For me it's Hades from Hercules.

Now before you come at me — I am NOT saying what he did was okay. Trying to take over Olympus and using a literal child as a pawn is not exactly a great resume. We can agree on that.

BUT.

Can you imagine your job being listening to dead people scream for eternity? Living in a place where the worst souls in existence end up?

And while you're stuck down there doing that, Zeus is up there on his cloud having the time of his life with all the other gods like nothing is happening.

I get it Hades. I genuinely get it. My man just wanted out.

And honestly? For a Greek god his plan wasn't even that extreme.

He did not off the baby, he just turned him into a "normal" kid. I mean, it's not that bad. Right?

So who is yours? Which villain did you grow up hating but now you're like "okay… I kind of see it"?

For me it has to be Death from Puss in Boots: The Last Wish.

Hear me out. Yes, he's terrifying. Yes, he's hunting Puss down. But his whole point is actually valid? Like, you have one life left and you've been wasting all of them without a second thought. Death isn't even being cruel, he's literally just doing his job AND giving Puss a wake up call at the same time.

His motive makes complete sense — if you don't value your own life, I'm going to make you understand what it means to lose it. And honestly? That's kind of a life lesson wrapped in a villain.

Plus he's just an absolutely iconic character. The whistling alone lives in my head rent free.

So which villain do YOU actually agree with or understand when you really think about it?

Sometimes I just watch a movie and I see one actor than I have seen in multiple other movies and I’m like why didn’t they blow up because they are good like very good !

The one that comes to mind right away is Maia Reficco from Kylie mashups that’s where I discovered her but people saw her in pretty little liars the original sin , and it’s just that I feel like her talent in acting and especially in singing is very much ignored .

So I was wondering if anyone else has examples of actors or actresses that should have had more recognisation of their talent , and why ?

So often when I'm obsessed with a show, I needed to get it out of my system, and my way to cooperate with Off Campus was to make a video on "TheLadyBotShow"

Chapter 2

The week crawled by like something wounded.

Allie went to class. Took notes. Turned in assignments. Smiled when Hannah made jokes. Laughed at the right moments. Functioned like a normal person.

But her phone stayed face-up on her desk. On the kitchen counter. On her nightstand. Always within reach. Always visible.

She checked it between classes. During lunch. In the middle of conversations. Her thumb would swipe up automatically, muscle memory taking over before her brain could stop it. The screen would light up with notifications from group chats, emails, and Instagram, but never the name she was looking for.

Never Maverick.

On Tuesday, she saw him across the quad. He was walking with Beau and Tucker, backpack slung over one shoulder, head down. Her feet stopped moving before she could think about it. She stood there, frozen on the pathway, watching him. Waiting for him to look up. To see her.

He didn't.

They walked past the library, turned the corner, and disappeared.

Allie's chest ached. She forced herself to keep walking.

Wednesday, she tried a different approach. She knew his schedule and had memorized it without meaning to during those weeks when things between them had been easy and light. When he'd text her after his afternoon class and they'd meet up at her apartment, and he'd kiss her before she'd even closed the door.

She positioned herself outside the economics building at 2:45 PM. Leaned against the brick wall, pretending to scroll through her phone. Students poured out of the double doors in waves. She watched each face.

Then she saw him.

Dean emerged with a group of guys from the hockey team. Logan was there. So was Garrett. They were talking about something, practice, probably, or the upcoming game. Dean's expression was neutral and closed off.

Allie straightened, took a breath, and started walking toward them.

Dean's eyes found hers across the distance.

For half a second, something flickered in his expression. Recognition. Maybe something else.

Then he looked away, said something to Logan, turned in the opposite direction, and walked off, leaving the group behind.

Logan called after him. "Dean, where are you—"

"Gotta make a call," Dean said without turning around. His voice carried across the quad, flat and dismissive.

Allie stood there, watching him disappear around the side of the building. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Logan noticed her then. His eyebrows pulled together, confused. He opened his mouth like he might say something.

Allie turned and walked away before he could.

Thursday night, the group met at someone's apartment for pizza and a movie. Hannah had texted Allie three times insisting she come. You've been weird all week. You need to get out of your head.

Allie went. Sat on the couch between Hannah and some girl from their sociology class. Ate pizza she couldn't taste. Laughed when everyone else laughed.

Dean sat across the room in an armchair, as far from her as physically possible. He didn't look at her once. Not when she walked in. Not when she sat down. Not when Hannah made a joke and everyone turned to see Allie's reaction.

He stared at the TV screen like it was the most fantastic thing he'd ever seen.

At one point, Tucker asked him to grab more drinks from the kitchen. Dean stood, walked past the couch, past her, without a glance. His shoulder was close enough that she could have reached out and touched him.

She didn't.

When he came back with the drinks, he handed them out to everyone. Garrett. Beau. Logan. Tucker. Hannah.

He skipped Allie entirely, sat back down in the armchair.

Hannah noticed. Allie saw her friend's eyes narrow, flicking between Dean and Allie with growing suspicion.

Allie excused herself to the bathroom, locked the door, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

What did I do?

She knew what she'd done. She'd slept with Hunter. Before she and Dean were anything. Before they'd even started whatever this was. But Dean knew that. He knew they hadn't been together.

So why did it feel like he hated her for it anyway?

Friday afternoon, she broke.

She pulled out her phone. Opened their text thread. The last message was from over a week ago, before the fight, before everything fell apart. A stupid joke she'd sent him about something that had happened in class. He'd responded with a laughing emoji and you're ridiculous.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Then she started typing.

J-Lo:
Are you okay?

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. Watched the message turn from Delivered to Read almost immediately.

The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Maverick:
Fine.

Allie stared at the single word. One syllable. Four letters. The most emotionally empty response possible.

She typed again.

J-Lo:
Can we talk?

Delivered.
Read.
No response.

She waited. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

Nothing.

Her jaw clenched. She typed again, faster this time.

J-Lo:
Dean.

Read.
Still nothing.

J-Lo:
You're seriously acting like a child right now.

Read.

The silence stretched out. Allie sat on her bed, phone clutched in both hands, staring at the screen until her eyes burned.

Finally, she typed out a longer message. Let all the frustration pour out through her fingers.

J-Lo:
I know you're angry at me. I get it. But ignoring me completely isn't—

The three dots appeared before she could finish.

Maverick:
I'm not angry at you.

Allie's breath caught. She typed back immediately.

J-Lo:
Then what is this? Why won't you talk to me?

Maverick:
Not a good time.

J-Lo:
It's NEVER a good time with you lately.

Read.
No response.

Allie threw her phone across the bed. It bounced off the pillow and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

She pressed her palms against her eyes. Took a shaky breath.

I'm not angry at you.

If he wasn't angry, then what was he? Why was he doing this? Why was he pushing her away like she was nothing? Like she didn't matter?

She picked up her phone. No new messages.

She wanted to scream.

Dean

Dean stared at his phone screen. At the unanswered message from Allie. At the words It's NEVER a good time with you lately glowing up at him like an accusation.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He could respond. Could try to explain. Could tell her the truth, that he wasn't angry at her, that he'd never been angry at her, that the problem was him and his inability to handle his own emotions like a functional human being.

But what would he even say?

Sorry I beat the shit out of your one night stand and got arrested. Sorry I can't look at you without remembering that he touched you. Sorry I'm a jealous asshole who can't control his temper.

Sorry I'm terrified you think I'm violent. Unstable. Dangerous.

He locked his phone. Tossed it onto his desk.

Beau was saying something from across the room. Dean hadn't been listening. He forced himself to tune back in.

"Practice tomorrow at six. You going?"

"Yeah." Dean's voice came out flat.

Beau studied him from the doorway. "You've been weird all week."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You've barely said ten words to anyone since—" Beau stopped. Didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.

Since the fight. Since the arrest. Since everything went to hell.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "I'm dealing with it."

"By avoiding everyone?"

"I'm not avoiding anyone."

"You literally walked away from Logan mid-conversation yesterday."

"I had to make a call."

"Bullshit." Beau crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "You've been dodging him all week. And Allie. Especially Allie."

Dean's jaw tightened. "I'm not talking about this."

"Why not?"

"Because there's nothing to talk about."

"Dean—"

"Drop it, Beau."

Beau held his gaze for a long moment. Then he shook his head, pushed off the doorframe, and walked away. "Whatever, man. Your funeral."

Dean waited until he heard Beau's bedroom door close. Then he picked up his phone again.

Allie's message was still there. Still unanswered.

He should respond. Should say something. Anything.

But every time he tried to type, his mind went back to that night. To the look on her face when the cops put the handcuffs on him. To the way she'd tried to talk to him in the car and he'd shut her down. To the words he'd said, especially not you, and the way her expression had crumbled.

He'd seen himself through her eyes in that moment. Seen what she must have seen: a guy who'd lost control. Who'd beaten someone bloody in a bar. Who'd let his jealousy and rage take over until the cops had to pull him off.

She probably thought he was exactly like Hunter. Violent. Unpredictable. Someone who solved problems with his fists.

The thought made him sick.

He locked his phone again. Shoved it in his pocket.

He couldn't talk to her. Not yet. Not until he figured out how to explain that he wasn't angry at her, he was ashamed of himself. Ashamed that she'd seen him like that. Ashamed that he'd let his feelings for her become so obvious, so public, so out of control.

Ashamed that he'd probably ruined whatever chance they might have had.

Allie

"Okay, what's going on with you?"

Allie looked up from her coffee. Hannah was staring at her across the table at their usual café, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb. You've been weird all week. Distracted. Sad. You keep checking your phone every five seconds." Hannah leaned forward. "And you've been watching Dean."

Allie's stomach dropped. "I haven't—"

"Yes, you have. At the movie night. You kept looking at him when you thought no one was paying attention." Hannah's eyes narrowed. "What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing."

"Allie."

"There's nothing going on, Hannah. I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying." Hannah's voice wasn't accusatory, just matter of fact. Like she was stating an obvious truth. "You're a terrible liar, by the way. Always have been."

Allie wrapped both hands around her coffee cup. The ceramic was warm against her palms. "Can we not do this right now?"

"Do what? Ask why my best friend has been miserable all week?"

"I'm not miserable."

"You cried during a car commercial yesterday."

"It was a sad commercial."

"It was about tire sales, Allie."

Allie looked away.

Hannah's voice softened. "Look, I'm not trying to push. But something is clearly wrong. And it has something to do with Dean. I'm not stupid, I saw the way you reacted when he got arrested. The way you looked at him." She paused. "Are you guys friends? Is there something I don't know about?"

Friends. The word felt wrong. Too simple. Too inadequate for whatever she and Dean are... Were.

"We're not anything," Allie said quietly.

"But you were?"

Allie didn't answer.

Hannah sat back in her chair. "Okay. You don't have to tell me. But for what it's worth, he's been weird too. Avoiding everyone. Especially you." She tilted her head. "Which is interesting, don't you think? If you were nothing, why would he be going out of his way to avoid you?"

"I don't know, Hannah."

"Maybe you should ask him."

"I tried. He won't talk to me."

The words slipped out before Allie could stop them. She pressed her lips together, but it was too late. Hannah's expression shifted, understanding dawning.

"Oh," Hannah said softly. "Oh."

Allie stared down at her coffee. "Can we please talk about something else?"

Hannah reached across the table. Squeezed Allie's hand. "Yeah. Okay. We can talk about something else."

But Allie could feel her friend's eyes on her for the rest of their conversation. Could feel Hannah putting pieces together. Drawing conclusions.

She didn't have the energy to deny it anymore.

Saturday night, everyone met at Malone's.

Allie almost didn't go. Spent twenty minutes staring at her closet, trying to decide if she could handle another night of Dean pretending she didn't exist.

But Hannah had texted. You're coming. No excuses. I'll drag you there myself if I have to.

So Allie went.

The bar was packed. Music pounded from the speakers, bass vibrating through the floor. The air smelled like beer and sweat and too many people in too small a space. Allie pushed through the crowd, following Hannah toward their usual table in the back.

The group was already there. Garrett. Tucker. Beau. Logan.

And Dean.

He sat at the far end of the table, nursing a beer, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. He didn't look up when Allie and Hannah approached.

"Finally!" Tucker called out. "We've been here for like twenty minutes. What took you so long?"

"Allie couldn't decide what to wear," Hannah said, sliding into the booth.

Allie sat down next to her. Directly across from Dean.

He still didn't look at her.

Garrett was in the middle of telling some story about practice. Something about Logan falling on his ass during drills. Everyone laughed. Allie forced herself to smile.

Dean's expression didn't change.

The conversation flowed around them. Allie participated when she had to. Laughed when it was expected. Sipped her drink. Tried not to stare at Dean.

Failed.

He looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes. Jaw tight. Shoulders tense. Like he hadn't slept properly in days.

She wondered if he'd been thinking about her. If he'd been replaying that night in the car the way she had. If he regretted what he'd said.

Probably not.

"I'll grab the next round," Beau said, standing up. "Anyone want anything specific?"

Orders were called out. Beau headed toward the bar.

That's when Allie saw him.

Hunter.

He was leaning against the bar, talking to some girl Allie didn't recognize. His face was still bruised, yellowing now, fading but visible. He caught Allie's eye across the room and smiled.

Her stomach turned.

He said something to the girl. Then he started walking toward their table.

No. No no no.

"Hey, Allie." Hunter's voice was smooth. Casual. Like they were old friends. Like he hadn't been beaten bloody in an alley a week ago. "Long time no see."

Allie's hands tightened around her glass. "Hunter."

"Mind if I sit?" He didn't wait for an answer. Just slid into the booth next to her, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers.

She shifted away. "Actually, we're kind of in the middle of—"

"Just wanted to say hi. See how you've been." His smile widened. "You look good."

Across the table, Dean's knuckles went white around his beer bottle.

Allie forced herself to stay calm. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Haven't seen you around much lately." Hunter leaned in slightly. Close enough that she could smell his cologne. "We should catch up sometime. Grab coffee or something."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? We're adults. We can be civil." His hand landed on the table near hers. Not touching, but close. "Unless there's a reason you're avoiding me?"

Hannah was watching them now. So was Garrett. Tucker looked confused. Logan's expression had gone carefully neutral.

Dean stood up.

The movement was abrupt. Sudden. His chair scraped against the floor.

"I'm out," he said. His voice was flat. Empty.

"Dean—" Garrett started.

But Dean was already walking away. Pushing through the crowd toward the exit.

Allie watched him go. Watched his back disappear through the door.

Something inside her snapped.

"Excuse me," she said, sliding out of the booth. She didn't look at Hunter. Didn't look at anyone.

She followed Dean outside.

The night air was cool against her flushed skin. The street was half-empty. Allie spotted Dean immediately, walking toward his truck, keys already in his hand.

"Dean!"

He didn't stop. Didn't turn around.

"Dean, wait!"

She ran to catch up. Grabbed his arm.

He stopped. Stood there with his back to her, shoulders rigid.

"What?" His voice was cold. Distant.

"Are you seriously just going to leave?"

"Yeah. I am."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be here."

"That's not an answer."

Dean turned around then. Finally looked at her. His expression was hard. Closed off. "What do you want from me, Allie?"

"I want you to talk to me!"

"About what?"

"About everything! About why you've been avoiding me all week. About why you won't even look at me. About why you're acting like I don't exist!" Her voice rose, frustration bleeding through. "I don't understand what I did wrong!"

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because—" He stopped. Jaw clenched. Looked away.

"Because what?" Allie stepped closer. "Because I slept with Hunter? Is that it? Because we weren't together, Dean. You know that. We weren't anything."

"I know that."

"Then what is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem."

"You're lying." She was close enough now to see the tension in his jaw. The way his hands kept curling into fists at his sides. "You've been lying all week. Avoiding me. Ignoring my texts. Pretending I don't exist. And I'm done. I'm done waiting for you to explain. I'm done trying to figure out what I did to make you hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"Then what do you feel?" Her voice cracked. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like you can't stand to be in the same room as me."

Dean's eyes finally met hers. Something flickered in his expression, pain, maybe, or frustration. "That's not—"

"Then tell me what it is! Just talk to me!"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because—" His voice rose, matching hers. "Because I don't know what to say! Because every time I look at you, I remember that night. I remember losing control. I remember the way you looked at me when the cops put those handcuffs on. Like you were scared of me."

Allie's breath caught. "I wasn't—"

"You were. And you should be." He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture sharp and frustrated. "I beat the shit out of someone in front of you, Allie. I got arrested. I let my jealousy and my anger take over until I couldn't think straight. And you saw all of it."

"Dean—"

"You saw what I'm capable of. You saw me at my worst. And I—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "I can't stand the thought of you thinking I'm like him. Like Hunter. Violent. Unstable. Someone who solves problems with his fists."

"I don't think that."

"You should."

"Well, I don't!" She stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "I was scared for you, not of you. I was scared they were going to hurt you. Scared you were going to get in more trouble. Scared you were going to—" Her voice broke. "I wasn't scared of you, Dean. I was scared of losing you."

He stared at her. Something in his expression shifted, surprise, maybe, or disbelief.

"You don't get it," he said quietly. "You don't understand what it's like to—" He stopped. Shook his head. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what?"

"This. Us. Whatever this is." He gestured between them. "I can't be around you and pretend everything is fine. I can't look at you without thinking about him. About the fact that he—" His jaw clenched. "I know we weren't together. I know you didn't do anything wrong. But it doesn't change the fact that every time I see you, I think about him touching you. And it makes me want to—"

He cut himself off. Turned away.

Allie's chest ached. "So that's it? You're just going to avoid me forever?"

"I don't know."

"That's not good enough."

"It's all I have right now."

"Dean—"

"Please." His voice was rough. Strained. "Please just let me go."

"No." She grabbed his arm again. Forced him to turn back around. "No, I'm not letting you walk away. Not again. Not without—"

She didn't finish the sentence.

Dean moved first.

One second they were standing apart, arguing, both of them frustrated and hurt and angry. The next, he'd closed the distance between them. His hands came up to frame her face, and then his mouth was on hers.

The kiss was desperate. Urgent. Nothing like the careful, tentative kisses they'd shared before. This was raw and unfiltered, all the frustration and longing and confusion of the past week poured into a single moment.

Allie froze. Her brain short-circircited, unable to process what was happening.

Then she kissed him back.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. A week of missing him, of worrying about him, of being pushed away, all of it came rushing to the surface. She kissed him like she was drowning and he was air.

For a moment, everything else fell away. The fight. Hunter. The arrest. The week of silence. None of it mattered. There was just this, his mouth on hers, his hands in her hair, the solid warmth of him pressed against her.

Then Dean pulled back.

Abruptly. Like he'd been burned.

He stared at her, eyes wide, expression horrified.

"I—" He took a step back. Then another. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Dean—"

"I'm sorry."

He turned and walked away. Got in his truck. Started the engine.

Allie stood there in the parking lot, watching his taillights disappear into the night.

Her lips still tingled. Her heart was racing. Her mind was spinning.

What just happened?

She pressed her fingers to her mouth. Could still feel the ghost of his kiss.

He'd looked horrified. Disgusted with himself.

He regrets it.

The thought hit her like a punch to the gut.

He'd kissed her, and then immediately regretted it. Apologized for it. Walked away like it was a mistake.

Like she was a mistake.

Allie's eyes burned. She blinked rapidly, trying to force back the tears.

A week of silence. A week of being ignored. And then this, a kiss that meant nothing. A kiss he regretted the second it happened.

She wrapped her arms around herself. The night air felt colder now.

Behind her, the door to Malone's opened. Music spilled out into the parking lot.

"Allie?"

She turned. Beau stood in the doorway, backlit by the bar's interior lights. He was looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"You okay?" he asked.

No. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Beau's eyes flicked to where Dean's truck had been. Then back to her. "Did something happen?"

"No. Nothing happened."

He didn't look convinced. But he didn't push. Just nodded slowly. "Okay. You coming back inside?"

"In a minute."

Beau hesitated. Then he stepped back inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Allie stood alone in the parking lot. Stared at the empty space where Dean's truck had been.

He regrets it.

The words echoed in her head, over and over.

She'd finally gotten what she wanted, contact, acknowledgment, something, and it had only made everything worse.

Dean

Dean drove.

He didn't know where he was going. Didn't care. Just drove through the empty streets, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles ached.

What the hell did I just do?

He'd kissed her. In the parking lot. In front of anyone who might have been watching. He'd kissed her like he had any right to. Like he hadn't spent the past week avoiding her specifically to prevent something like this from happening.

And she'd kissed him back.

For a moment, one perfect, terrible moment, she'd kissed him back. Her hands had fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he'd felt like maybe, maybe, he hadn't completely ruined everything.

Then reality had crashed down.

He'd remembered the fight. The arrest. The way he'd lost control. The way she'd looked at him in that alley, worried, scared, confused.

He'd remembered that he was exactly the kind of guy she should stay away from. The kind who solved problems with violence. Who let jealousy and rage dictate his actions. Who couldn't be trusted to keep his emotions in check.

So he'd pulled away. Apologized. Run.

Like a coward.

Dean pulled into an empty parking lot. Killed the engine. Sat there in the darkness, staring at nothing.

His phone buzzed. He ignored it.

Buzzed again.

He pulled it out. Two texts from Beau.

Beau:
Where'd you go?

Beau:
We need to talk.

Dean locked his phone. Tossed it onto the passenger seat.

He didn't want to talk. Didn't want to explain. Didn't want to face the fact that he'd just made everything infinitely worse.

She'd kissed him back.

The thought kept circling through his mind. She'd kissed him back. Which meant, what? That she didn't hate him? That she didn't think he was a violent asshole?

Or that she'd just been caught off guard and responded on instinct?

Probably the latter.

She'd probably realized what was happening and kissed him back out of shock. Or confusion. Or some misguided sense of obligation.

And then he'd pulled away and apologized, and now she probably thought he regretted it.

Which he did. Sort of. Not the kiss itself, that had been the best and worst moment of his entire week, but the timing. The circumstances. The fact that he'd done it at all when he was supposed to be staying away from her.

His phone buzzed again.

Beau:
I saw you leave with Allie. I saw you in the parking lot.

Dean's stomach dropped.

Beau:
I'm coming over. Be there in 10.

Shit.

Beau showed up in exactly ten minutes.

Dean heard the knock on the apartment door. Considered not answering. But Beau had a key, and he'd just let himself in anyway.

Dean opened the door.

Beau walked in without waiting for an invitation. Closed the door behind him. Crossed his arms and stared at Dean with an expression that was equal parts concerned and exasperated.

"Alright," Beau said. "Talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Bullshit. I saw you kiss her."

Dean's jaw tightened. "It was a mistake."

"Was it?"

"Yes."

"Didn't look like a mistake from where I was standing."

"Well, it was." Dean moved past him, heading toward the kitchen. He needed water. Or a drink. Or something to do with his hands. "I shouldn't have done it."

"Why not?"

"Because—" Dean grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Filled it with water from the tap. "Because we're not together. Because I've been avoiding her all week. Because she probably thinks I'm insane."

"Do you want to be together?"

Dean didn't answer. Just drank his water.

Beau leaned against the counter. "Dean. Come on. I'm not stupid. I've known something was going on between you two for weeks. And after what happened with Hunter—"

"Don't." Dean's voice came out sharp. "Don't bring him up."

"Why not? He's part of this, isn't he?"

"He's not part of anything."

"She's the reason you beat the shit out of him in an alley."

"He hit my sister."

"Yeah. And you were also pissed that he slept with Allie."

Dean's hand tightened around the glass. "That's not—"

"It is. Don't lie to me." Beau's voice was calm. Matter of fact. "You were angry about your sister. But you were also angry about Allie. And now you're avoiding her because you think she's going to judge you for it."

Dean set the glass down. Hard. "I'm avoiding her because I don't want her to see me as some violent asshole who can't control his temper."

"Is that what you think she sees?"

"That's what I am."

"No, it's not."

"I got arrested, Beau. I beat someone in a BAR. I let my jealousy take over until I couldn't think straight." Dean's voice rose. "That's exactly what I am."

"You were defending your sister."

"I was also defending my ego. My pride. My—" He stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. "It wasn't just about my sister. It was about him. About the fact that he touched her. That he was connected to her in a way I'm not. That he—"

He cut himself off. Couldn't finish the sentence.

Beau was quiet for a moment. Then: "You know they weren't together, right? When she slept with him?"

"I know."

"And you know she didn't do anything wrong?"

"I know that too."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is who it was." Dean's voice came out strained. Rough. "The problem is that every time I look at her, I think about him. About the fact that he hurt my sister and then—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "I can't stand the thought of him being connected to her. In any way."

Beau studied him. "So this was never about her sleeping with someone ?"

"No. It was never about that."

"Then what's it about?"

Dean leaned against the counter. Stared down at his hands. At the faint bruises still visible on his knuckles from the fight.

"It's about me," he said quietly. "It's about the fact that I'm disappointed in myself. That I'm not proud of how I acted. That I lost control and let my jealousy dictate my actions." He looked up. Met Beau's eyes. "I'm terrified she sees me differently now. That she thinks I'm violent. Unstable. That I ruined whatever chance we might have had."

"Have you asked her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a coward." Dean's laugh was bitter. Humorless. "Because it's easier to avoid her than to face the possibility that she actually does think I'm a violent asshole."

"Dean—"

"I kissed her tonight. And then I pulled away and apologized and left. Like it was a mistake. Like she was a mistake." He pressed his palms against his eyes. "She probably thinks I regret it."

"Do you?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." Dean dropped his hands. "I regret the timing. The circumstances. The fact that I did it at all when I'm supposed to be staying away from her. But the kiss itself?" He shook his head. "That's the only thing I've done right all week."

Beau was quiet for a long moment. Then he pushed off the counter. Clapped Dean on the shoulder.

"You need to talk to her," he said. "For real this time. No avoiding. No running away. Just talk."

"I don't know what to say."

"Start with the truth. Tell her what you just told me." Beau headed toward the door. Paused with his hand on the handle. "And for what it's worth? I don't think she sees you as violent. I think she sees you as someone who cares too much. Someone who's scared of screwing things up."

He left before Dean could respond.

Dean stood alone in the kitchen. Stared at his phone on the counter.

He should text her. Should explain. Should do something other than stand here feeling sorry for himself.

But every time he tried to think of what to say, his mind went blank.

I'm sorry I kissed you.
I'm sorry I pulled away.
I'm sorry I've been avoiding you.
I'm sorry I'm a mess.

None of it felt like enough.

Allie

Allie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

It was past midnight. Hannah had texted an hour ago asking if she was okay. Allie had responded with a thumbs-up emoji and nothing else.

She wasn't okay.

She kept replaying the kiss. The way Dean had grabbed her face. The desperation in the way he'd kissed her. The way she'd kissed him back without thinking.

And then the way he'd pulled away. The horror in his expression. The apology.

I'm sorry.

Two words. That's all it had taken to shatter whatever fragile hope she'd been holding onto.

He regretted it. Regretted kissing her. Regretted letting his guard down for even a moment.

Which meant he didn't want her. Didn't want whatever this was between them.

Allie rolled onto her side. Pulled her blanket up to her chin.

Her phone sat on the nightstand, screen dark. No new messages.

She'd checked it approximately fifty times in the past hour. Each time, the result was the same.

Nothing.

He wasn't going to text. Wasn't going to explain. Wasn't going to do anything except continue avoiding her like he had been all week.

And she was supposed to just, what? Accept it? Move on? Pretend like that kiss hadn't happened?

Her chest ached.

She'd spent a week convincing herself that he hated her. That he was disgusted by her past with Hunter. That he couldn't stand to be around her because of it.

And then he'd kissed her.

For one perfect moment, she'd thought maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe he didn't hate her. Maybe there was still a chance.

But then he'd pulled away. Apologized. Left.

And now she was back where she started. Confused. Hurt. Alone.

Allie closed her eyes. Tried to sleep.

Tried ….

Dean

Dean sat on his couch in the dark.

His phone was in his hand. The screen glowed, illuminating his face.

He'd opened their text thread. Stared at it for the past twenty minutes.

The last message was still from Friday. Still unanswered.

J-Lo:
It's NEVER a good time with you lately.

He should respond. Should say something. Anything.

But what?

I kissed you because I couldn't help myself.
I pulled away because I'm terrified you regret it.
I'm avoiding you because I'm ashamed of myself, not you.
I think I'm falling for you and it scares the hell out of me.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Then he locked his phone. Set it down on the couch next to him.

He couldn't do this over text. Couldn't reduce everything he was feeling to a few typed words on a screen.

He needed to talk to her. Face to face. Needed to explain.

But not tonight. Not when he was still reeling from the kiss. Not when he couldn't think straight.

Tomorrow. He'd talk to her tomorrow.
Or the day after.
Or whenever he finally worked up the courage to face her.

Dean leaned back against the couch. Closed his eyes.

The taste of her lips still lingered. The feel of her hands fisted in his shirt. The way she'd kissed him back like she'd been waiting for it.

She kissed me back.

The thought should have made him feel better.

It didn't.

Because he'd ruined it. Pulled away. Apologized. Made her think he regretted it.

And now they were both miserable. 

Both confused.

I recently came across a TikTok edit of **Antonella and Nicolás from Patito Feo**, and it completely changed how I viewed them.

When I watched the show as a kid, I thought they were a cute couple. Looking back as an adult, though, I realized that Nicolás spent a significant part of the story pretending to be Antonella’s uncle before becoming her love interest. The show presented their relationship as romantic, and from what I remember, many viewers rooted for them.

It made me think about how some relationships in movies and TV were widely loved when they first aired but feel very different when viewed through a modern lens.

What are some TV or movie couples that everyone seemed to love at the time, but that now come across as toxic, manipulative, inappropriate, or just plain unsettling?

And did your opinion change when you rewatched the show/movie as an adult?

Hallo!!!

I just hit 300+ views on a short from my YouTube show. Obviously, it's not a huge or spectacular number, but it really gives me strength to keep making content. It feels like a little step forward, and I'm genuinely excited for what's coming next.

Thanks for being part of this journey — whether you've watched, shared, or just scrolled by, it all helps.

Let's keep going!

370 !!

Well, I've been obsessed with this new show, Off Campus, and I'm trying to do my new YouTube video about my opinion and all that I've felt about this show and all that I've learned with this show and stuff like that. But my biggest problem right now is that I don't know where to start, where to end, what do I include there, how do I do to not spoil people with being precise because there are precise scenes that I really want to talk about. I'm just so confused, but I'm also excited because I love this show. Weirdly, I'm not very romance, but this one has so much more than just romance. I'm so excited to do the video about that. See you in yt TheLadybotshow if you want to see the result.

Are you ready for a lot of nothing?

Because all I'm doing right now is just taking a piece from my long-form video since I work on my own and YouTube is not the only thing that I do.

Unfortunately, I do not have the time to only do YouTube, but I don't know how to choose like the best moments or what would push people to actually watch my videos.