#( like girl if you would have just? chilled? )

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (07)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 8.1k

Aliyah's Notes: the way i wanted this chapter to be around 5k... but anyw, the ending to that chapter is pretty good so y'all can rest in peace lmaoo but problems are coming hehehehehe

The sound of her heels clicking on the pavement cut through the evening air, each step echoing louder than the last. You barely registered the chill of the evening as her figure came into view—Chiara Romano, arms folded over her chest, her expression a delicate balance of innocence and something unmistakably venomous. A small, mocking smile played at the corners of her lips, her gaze roaming over you with the kind of appraisal that felt like a slap.

Beside you, Rafe tensed, his gaze hardening as he straightened, clearly prepared for whatever barbs she had in store. You forced yourself to stand taller, meeting her gaze with a coolness you could barely muster.

“Chiara,” you said, injecting a polite edge into your voice that you knew was as fake as her smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, I just felt like things ended a bit... strange at the party,” she replied, her tone sugary sweet yet laced with something bitter. “Especially after seeing the headlines about you.” She let out a small sigh, as though feigning concern. “I couldn’t help but worry.”

A sharp laugh almost slipped from your lips. The headlines. She was talking about the recent media talking about your “potential” relapse… which were true. News of your recent struggles had been going viral, and she was here to dangle them in front of you. The reality of your relapse was raw, but admitting it—especially to Chiara—was out of the question.

“Did you, now?” You kept your voice light, your smile tight as you watched her closely.

“Of course,” she nodded, her eyes darting pointedly between you and Rafe, her expression softening with feigned empathy. “Us girls have to look out for each other,” she added, a hint of mock sincerity weaving through her words. “I just hope Rafe’s taking excellent care of you. I mean, if he’s able to.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes or worse—to let your anger slip through. Instead, you returned her smile with a casual shrug. “He is, thank you,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral. “And I’m doing just fine. I haven’t relapsed—.”

“You sure?” she pressed, her voice a touch too innocent. “You look... thinner than I remember.”

You felt a twisted sort of satisfaction creeping in, an internal smile that you kept hidden. It was strange—almost absurd—but her attempt to make you feel small, to jab at your insecurities, did the opposite. She said it to be cruel; she thought her words would cut you deeply. But instead, they landed somewhere softer, failing to sting the way she intended.

Rafe’s voice cut through the tension, his tone sharp and commanding, filled with an authority that even you hadn’t heard from him before. “Alright, that’s enough,” he warned, his words laced with a chill that could silence a room. “Keep talking like that, and you’ll be the one making headlines.”

Chiara’s gaze flicked to Rafe, her lips curling into a sly smile, undeterred by his warning. “Oh, Rafe, always so protective,” she cooed, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “I thought we were past all that. After all, we did come here together.”

You blinked, the words sinking in like a stone dropping into still water, each ripple spreading through you. “You… came here with him?” you asked, keeping your voice steady, though your heart was pounding.

Chiara’s smile widened, a hint of triumph in her expression. “Of course. We just thought it’d be convenient, didn’t we, Rafe?”

Your eyes shifted to him, searching his face for any denial, some sign that this was just another one of her games. But Rafe stayed silent, his expression tinged with guilt, lips pressed together as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.

He had, in fact, come with her.

The air thick, with Chiara’s truth and Rafe’s guilty silence. Every moment he said nothing, the disappointment pooled deeper in your chest, twisting painfully.

You crossed your arms, your gaze hardening as you looked at him. “Convenient?” The word slipped from your mouth, laced with bitter disbelief. “Convenient for who, exactly?”

Rafe opened his mouth, struggling to find the right words, but nothing came out. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might deny it, try to explain. But his shoulders sagged slightly, defeated, as he glanced away.

Chiara’s voice broke the silence, her tone feigning sympathy. “Oh, don’t be upset. It’s not like you’re the only woman in his life, right?” She leaned back with a satisfied smile, clearly relishing the wedge she’d managed to drive between you.

“Alright, you know what?” you said, forcing a calm into your voice that belied the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t really care what arrangement you two have. But what I’d like to know, Chiara, is why you’re actually here. What do you want?”

Chiara’s smile faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before she recovered, her expression shifting to a mischievous glint. “I’m here to support my father’s event, naturally,” she replied smoothly. “But I couldn’t resist the chance to catch up with Rafe and see how… everything’s going with you two.”

You felt the anger begin to surge again, but you reined it in, straightening and lifting your chin. “Then let’s hope tonight’s as memorable as you’re expecting.” You threw a final look at Rafe, disappointment flickering in your gaze.

With that, you walked toward the car and sat in the passenger seat, forcing yourself to ignore the ache in your chest as you disappeared into the throng of people.

From the corner of your eye, you watched Rafe and Chiara exchange a few heated words. His jaw clenched as he spoke, his eyes narrowed in a way that told you he was holding back the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Chiara, on the other hand, looked anything but apologetic, her expression smug as she responded with an air of indifference. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but every movement, every flash of irritation in Rafe’s eyes only deepened the tight knot of frustration in your chest.

Before long, they finally turned, heading toward the car, and you forced yourself to look away and just focus on the city lights ahead of you. The silence that filled the car was thick, unbearably tense. The engine hummed beneath you, but the weight of everything unsaid made each passing second feel longer. You kept your eyes on the window, refusing to break the silence, even as your exhaustion began to creep in, your eyelids growing heavy.

Just as you started to drift, you felt him lean forward, his breath warm against your ear as he broke the silence, his voice low and soft. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, the apology laced with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

You exhaled sharply, holding back the initial pang of anger. “You’re sorry?” you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you finally turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. “For what, exactly? For keeping me in the dark? For thinking I wouldn’t notice you driving here with her?”

Rafe’s expression softened, his guilt evident as he held your gaze, searching for the right words. “It wasn’t like that. She… she just showed up. I didn’t think—”

You scoffed, cutting him off. “That’s the problem. You didn’t think. Or maybe you did, and just didn’t care to clue me in.” As his apology hung in the air, you couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, refusing to look at him. “So what, Cameron? You thought I’d just sit there and take it?”

He shifted closer, his voice strained. “I told you, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t invite her. She just… she knew I was coming here, and it felt easier to—”

“Easier?” You turned in your seat to face him, disbelief and frustration clear in your eyes. “Easier for who, exactly? Because it sure as hell wasn’t easier for me.”

Rafe’s gaze dropped, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. “Look, I know how it looks, but… she was already in the car before I could even think about it. I didn’t want to make a scene.”

You narrowed your eyes, unimpressed. “So, you thought the best plan was to just go along with her? To let her be seen with you, knowing exactly how that would make me look?”

“Y/N, I know I messed up, okay?” He leaned closer, the regret in his eyes almost palpable. “I was just trying to keep things calm. I didn’t want it to turn into something it didn’t have to be.”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to ‘make a scene’ with her, but now you’re perfectly fine with making me feel like an idiot?” you shot back, folding your arms. “How considerate of you.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Can’t you just trust that I was doing what I thought was right?”

You rolled your eyes, the bitterness evident in your tone. “I don’t trust you.” You turned away, staring at the passing lights outside. "And you’re only apologizing now because you got caught."

He was silent for a moment, the weight of your words settling in. “I don’t want to keep doing this, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to feel like this… like I don’t care.”

You laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Then stop giving me reasons to feel this way.”

You leaned against the window, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the passing city lights. During the car ride, Chiara, for once, seemed to get the hint and kept her mouth shut, though every so often you caught her glancing at Rafe through the rearview mirror. Rafe, on the other hand, drove with a steady determination, occasionally glancing at you as though he was waiting for you to say something—anything—that might break the unbearable quiet. But you refused to give him that satisfaction, and instead, kept your focus outward, on anything but the two people in the car with you.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the charity venue, Chiara was quick to jump out, immediately making a beeline for her father, who was waiting near the entrance. The flash of photographers’ cameras lit up the scene, and she threw a gleeful smile their way, basking in the attention as she reached her father’s side.

You took a steady breath and turned to Rafe, letting out a sigh that seemed to carry every ounce of frustration you’d been holding onto. He was watching you, his expression caught somewhere between apology and uncertainty.

“Alright, Cameron,” you began, forcing a professional tone. “Let’s get this over with. We need a story to tell about how we met, so listen to me; we met through a mutual friend at some rooftop party in the city. You were immediately smitten.”

“Smitten?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow. His mouth curved into a playful grin. “Strong word there. Don’t know if I’ve ever been ‘smitten.’”

“Well, you have now,” you said without missing a beat. “We sat at the same table, and you told me some fake, but charming story about how you don’t like crowds and would rather be anywhere else.”

“So, I’m just a liar?” he said with a grin.

“Yes, apparently,” you said, your voice flat as you rolled your eyes.

“That’s deserved, alright,” he shrugged, and leaned closer. “But, let’s make this fun. How about we tweak the story a bit? Let’s say you chased me down after that rooftop party, practically begging for my number.”

“You must be high,” you scoffed, looking at him like he’d just suggested the earth was flat. “No one would believe I’d chase after you. Besides, I’d rather walk across hot coals than let people think I was desperate for you.”

Rafe gave a lighthearted shrug, clearly entertained by your reaction. “Alright, but if anyone asks, I’ll just say I was the reluctant charmer who had to be convinced.”

You couldn’t help the sarcastic laugh that slipped out. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘charm’ like ghosting someone for two weeks.”

He winced but quickly recovered, that easy smirk slipping back into place. “Ouch. Alright, I deserved that one too. But admit it, you’d be impressed if I played hard-to-get. It’d add some mystery to our ‘relationship.’”

You deadpanned, “It’d add some credibility if you remembered the actual story. Try to keep up with the backstory, Cameron. We’re supposed to be in love, remember?”

Rafe placed a hand on his heart, feigning a wounded expression. “So cruel. Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you’re just brushing me off like I’m nothing.”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “How does that feel, huh? To be brushed off?”

His smile dropped immediately. “I’ll stick to the script. Mutual friends, a little bit of rooftop magic, and me falling head over heels. Got it.”

“Good. And try to remember: we’ve been dating long enough that you’d know basic things, like my favorite color and the fact that I don’t like seafood.”

“Got it,” he said with a nod, giving you a mock salute. Then, with a sly grin, he added, “Anything else I should know? Like, if you’ve got a celebrity crush, maybe?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smile despite yourself. “This is a charity event, Cameron, not a middle school dance. Stick to the basics, and we’ll be fine.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, boss. Just wanted to know if I’ve got any competition out there.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Trust me, you’d know if there was competition.”

The banter fell into a comfortable silence, the tension lifting slightly as you both prepared for the performance ahead. But as you glanced out the window, watching Chiara drape herself over her father’s arm like she owned the place, the humor faded, and a steely resolve settled over you.

Rafe must have noticed, because he leaned forward, his expression growing more serious. “Hey, I know tonight’s going to be… less than ideal,” he said, his tone softening. “But we’ve got this. Just follow my lead if things get tricky, alright?”

You looked at him, skepticism still lingering, but his sincerity caught you off guard. “Let’s just keep this professional,” you replied, but your tone was gentler, almost reluctant.

“Deal,” he said, giving you a small, genuine smile. “Let’s make ‘em believe it.”

With that, he opened his door and walked around to your side, offering you his hand as you stepped out. You hesitated, then took it, maintaining a cool composure as camera flashes went off around you. The crowd erupted in a flurry of clicks and flashes, and you could already hear the low hum of voices speculating about the two of you.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his hand resting lightly on your back as he guided you forward. “Smile like you’re the happiest you’ve ever been,” he whispered, his tone playful but warm. “And maybe… just pretend you don’t want to strangle me for a few minutes.”

You tilted your head, flashing him a fake, overly-sweet smile. “Oh, trust me, that’ll be the hardest part.”

He chuckled, giving the reporters a charming wave as he leaned in, whispering back, “Keep smiling like that, and people might actually believe you like me.”

You leaned in closer, maintaining the smile for the cameras. “Don’t get too comfortable. This is just for show.”

“Right,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eye. “But if we happen to have a little fun, is that so bad?”

Before you could answer, Chiara’s voice rang out over the crowd, all fake sweetness as she greeted her father, loudly proclaiming her excitement for the event. You caught Rafe’s eye, sharing a look of silent exasperation.

“Stick to the story. Don’t slip up.”

“Got it, boss,” he whispered back, his tone lighthearted as he gave you a quick wink. “Let’s go give them a show.”

You sipped your champagne, feigning interest in the event as your gaze flickered over the crowd, hoping to find something—anything—to break up the monotony. Conversations about Rafe’s latest matches, your recent shoot for Vogue, and even the upcoming Chanel campaign rolled through the evening like clockwork, the same pleasantries exchanged over and over. Rafe played his part perfectly, always flashing that magnetic smile, leaning in as if every word you said was his world. You kept a poised expression, smiling when necessary, but each compliment and question blended into the next, leaving you restless.

Just as you managed to suppress a yawn, a commanding voice sounded from behind. “Y/N Y/L/N, the woman of the hour.” You turned, and there stood Charles Kensington, a CEO of one of the event’s largest sponsors, known as much for his relentless pursuit of younger models as for his cutthroat business strategies. He extended a hand with a smirk that was more predatory than friendly, his gaze sweeping over you with an appreciation that lingered far too long. “I’m Charles Kesington. It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” you replied politely, giving him a polite smile as you shook his hand. “And congratulations on your company’s recent acquisition. Impressive move.”

Charles smiled, clearly pleased. “Ah, you’ve been keeping up, I see. You’re as sharp as they say.” His gaze lingered, a touch too intense, and his hand remained over yours a second longer than necessary. “And I must say, even more beautiful in person. Your upcoming campaign with Chanel is already causing quite a buzz.”

Rafe’s arm tightened around your waist as he turned to face Charles, his smile polite but lacking warmth. “Nice to see you, Charles.”

Charles nodded at Rafe, though his attention stayed firmly on you. “I’ve seen your work everywhere recently,” he said, his voice dropping into an intimate tone. “Chanel made a wise choice—although I’d argue that any brand would be lucky to have you representing them.”

“Thank you,” you replied coolly, catching the faint annoyance in Rafe’s jaw as it clenched. But Charles either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Kensington,” you replied, ignoring the way his eyes drifted over you. “And thank you. I’m honored to be working with such a renowned brand.”

“Oh, please,” he said, dismissing the formality with a wave of his hand. “Call me Charles. You know, I’d love to see you star in one of our campaigns someday. I’d love to discuss a potential collaboration over dinner,” he added, his voice lowering just enough to feel like a private invitation, despite Rafe’s presence.

You forced a polite laugh, though you felt Rafe’s grip tighten again. “Thank you, Charles. That’s very generous but—”

Rafe cleared his throat, the sound deliberate. “Actually, Y/N’s schedule is pretty packed for the next few months,” he said, his tone friendly but laced with an unmistakable edge. “With the Chanel campaign, her other upcoming works, and our time together, I’m not sure there’s room for much else.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, glancing at Rafe with an amused smile, as if he’d only just noticed him standing there. “Ah, Mr. Cameron. Quite a lucky man, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he managed a tight smile. “I’d say so.”

Charles leaned a bit closer, his attention fixed back on you. “Well, if you ever find a free moment, I’d be more than happy to take you on a tour of our headquarters. You know, just to chat about future opportunities.”

The thinly veiled invitation hung in the air, and you felt a slight discomfort, but you kept your smile in place. “Thank you for the offer, Charles. But as my boyfriend mentioned, I’m quite busy these days.”

Charles’ gaze flicked between the two of you, his smile widening slightly, clearly enjoying the tension he’d stirred up. “Of course. I understand entirely,” he replied smoothly, offering you a final lingering look before excusing himself.

The moment he was out of earshot, Rafe turned to you, his expression thunderous. “What the hell was that?”

You blinked, feigning innocence. “What was what?”

“That guy was practically undressing you with his eyes,” he muttered, his tone low and irritated. “And you didn’t seem too bothered by it.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Maybe because I don’t see the point in making a scene over a harmless conversation.”

Rafe scoffed, his hand still firmly around your waist. “Harmless? That guy was two seconds away from asking for your number.”

You rolled your eyes, barely managing to hide your smirk. “Jealous, Cameron?”

Rafe’s gaze hardened, and he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you think I’m just going to stand there while some old fucker tries to flirt with you, you’re wrong.”

The intensity in his voice sent a flicker of satisfaction through you, though you kept your expression neutral. “Relax, Mike Tyson. It was just a conversation. It’s not like he’s the first man to ever show interest in me.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing, “he should know you’re off-limits.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, amused by his possessiveness. “Is that right? I don’t recall signing any contract that says I’m ‘off-limits.’”

His grip tightened, his face a mixture of frustration and something else—something deeper, something he was clearly trying to suppress. “You’re my girlfriend and about to become my wife, consider it an unspoken rule, then.”

You felt a thrill at his words, but you kept your tone casual. “If that’s the case, maybe you should make it more convincing.”

He leaned closer, his hand brushed against your cheek, fingers lingering just enough to send a spark through you. “Convincing?”

His eyes never left yours, flickering briefly to your lips, and you could feel the heat building between you, a tension that seemed to stretch out endlessly. The hum of the event around you began to fade, and suddenly, it was as if there was no one else in the room—just the two of you, drawn together by something that felt far more complicated than a simple arrangement.

His breath, warm and steady against your skin, made your pulse quicken. You found yourself instinctively closing your eyes as his face came even closer, the space between you narrowing with every passing second. The moment was electric, charged with an undeniable pull that you could no longer ignore.

For the briefest moment, you forgot all the reasons you’d been upset with him in the first place. His proximity, the way he looked at you, the way his lips seemed so close—it was almost impossible to think about anything else. You ached to feel him again, to taste his lips, to feel the weight of his body against yours. All that mattered was the way your skin burned for him, how every nerve in you seemed to come alive at the thought of him touching you again. You wanted him. 

Desperately.

But just before his lips touched yours, a familiar voice cut through the quiet intensity.

"Y/N! There you are!” Aisha’s voice was bright and unapologetic, carrying her trademark liveliness that filled any room. Startled, you and Rafe pulled apart just in time to see her approach, her arms outstretched and a radiant smile on her face.

You could only laugh as she practically tackled you with a hug, pulling you in tightly. Standing just a few inches taller than you, her warm brown skin glowed against the dark emerald of her satin dress, a color that complemented her deeply curly hair that cascaded freely around her shoulders. Her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes sparkled with joy, her makeup accentuating her features with a natural, dewy look and a bold cat-eye makeup.

"Oh my God!" you managed through your laughter. "I had no idea you’d arrived already."

She finally released you from the hug but kept her hands on your shoulders, looking you over with a proud, glowing smile. “As if I’d miss this! You look absolutely breathtaking, girl—that dress was made for you. No one else could do it justice.”

You spun around, letting the fabric fan out as you struck a playful pose. “You really like it?”

“Like it? I am in-freaking-love, are you serious?” she squealed, and the two of you burst into laughter, clapping your hands together with giddy excitement. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You pressed a hand to your forehead, sighing dramatically. “I’ve missed you way more—can you believe it’s only been a year and I’m already involved with a white man? Truly, how crazy is that?”

Aisha’s gaze snapped to Rafe, who stood a little behind you, clearly surprised to be noticed so suddenly. You stifled a laugh as he shifted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Aisha's eyes narrowed slightly as she took him in, her gaze appraising and unblinking, as if she was assessing him for every possible flaw.

“Rafe Cameron, meet Aisha Patel—my best friend,” you said, tugging Aisha closer. “Aisha, this is Rafe, my... boyfriend.”

She didn’t say a word, just let her eyes scan him from head to toe with a critical intensity. You recognized this familiar expression—it was her way of warning anyone interested in you that hurting you would come with consequences. She always put your partners through this silent scrutiny, hoping to rattle them and make it clear they had to earn her approval.

Rafe, though clearly aware of her intent, extended his hand, maintaining an uneasy but polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Aisha.”

For a split second, she didn’t budge, letting the moment stretch just long enough to make him shift uncomfortably. You quickly grabbed her hand, easing it into his before she could escalate the standoff. “She’s usually much friendlier, I swe—”

“My dad has a gun,” she said quietly, her tone so flat it made the tension in the air sharpen. “And he taught me how to use it.”

You laughed a little, trying to ease the weight of her words. “She’s just kidding… right?”

But she didn’t break. Her gaze stayed fixed on Rafe, unwavering. “Only one way to find out, Rafe Cameron,” she replied coldly.

Rafe’s eyes flickered, and after a long moment, he dropped his gaze with a tight nod. “Guess I know where Y/N got her threatening techniques from,” he said with a small grin, the usual smugness back in his voice.

His expression, so casual and light, cut deeper than you expected. It felt like he knew exactly what he was doing, toying with a conversation he’d read from a distance and kept deliberately unanswered. He’d seen your texts, read every one of them, and left them cold and untouched. You felt the hurt creeping up in a way that left you exposed, vulnerable in a way you swore you wouldn’t be around him.

You pulled in a slow breath, forcing your face back to neutral, hoping Aisha wouldn’t notice the flicker of pain in your eyes. She turned to say something to Rafe, and you straightened, pulling your walls up as fast as you could, sealing the hurt beneath a calm you’d mastered. Just one more second, and no one would ever know.

Aisha leaned forward, curious but amused. “So… how’d you two meet?”

You shot Rafe a quick look, and he gave a subtle nod, leaving you to tell the story. “We met a few months back at this party,” you started.

“Rooftop party,” Rafe corrected, unable to resist chiming in.

“Right, a rooftop party,” you agreed, giving him a playful look. “And the second he laid eyes on me, he was enchanted—absolutely down bad,” you teased, letting a smirk cross your face.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, giving a mock-serious nod. “Completely leveled me. Could barely walk straight after that.”

“Completely down bad,” you agreed, tilting your head with a smile. “Apparently, my beauty was just too blinding. He had no choice but to come talk to me, and once he did? Well, he realized I was so much more than a pretty face. He was hooked on how charming, funny, and—”

“And how sassy she was,” Rafe finished, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary.

Aisha looked between the two of you, raising an eyebrow. “Sassy with you? Really?”

Rafe laughed, running a hand through his hair. “That mouth of hers—I swear, there’s not a single day where she’s not giving me that attitude,” he added with a soft smile in your direction.

“Interesting… Very interesting.” Aisha looked between you two with a grin, shaking her head. “And, what happened after that?”

Rafe leaned back, crossing his arms as he tried to act casual. "Well, after that, I pretty much chased her down just to get a date," he said with a smirk. "The rest is history."

You rolled your eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, he’s underselling it. He spent weeks trying to get my number, asking me out every day on Instagram, but I wasn’t having it. I kept hearing all these things about him…"

"Like what?" Aisha leaned in, eyes widening in anticipation.

"That he was a total player," you said, pausing for effect, earning a gasp from Aisha that you matched with a knowing nod. Meanwhile, Rafe just chuckled, shaking his head at your theatrics. "I know, girl!" you went on, shooting Rafe a playful look. "But he finally convinced me to go on a date… and he actually wasn’t so bad. So I gave him another shot, and, well…" You shrugged, glancing over at him with a smile. "Here we are."

Aisha took it all in, folding her arms and tapping her fingers thoughtfully.

“Wow,” she said, eyeing him with newfound curiosity. “I didn’t peg you for the persistent type, Rafe. Especially not with someone like my girl.”

Rafe shot her a confident smile, though there was a quiet warmth in his expression that didn’t quite match the usual cocky bravado. “Yeah, she’s special. Knew it from the moment I saw her.”

You couldn’t help the warmth that rushed through you at his words, a sudden rush of affection you hadn’t expected, especially not in front of Aisha. There was something in the way he looked at you that made the air feel thicker, charged with something unspoken. It sent an unexpected flutter through your chest, a reminder that underneath all the tension, the public facade, and the expectations, there was still something raw between you—something that felt real in a way you hadn’t quite anticipated. 

“Smooth talker, huh?” you teased, nudging Rafe lightly with your elbow. “You’re really laying it on thick tonight, aren’t you?”

Aisha’s sharp eyes flicked between you both, her protective instincts clearly on high alert. “Yeah, I’m picking up on that. But just so you know, Rafe, I’ve got my eye on you. You hurt her, and you won’t just be dealing with me, you’ll be dealing with my dad, too.”

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile, but there was something more guarded behind his eyes now, as though he recognized the weight of her words. “I get it,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Aisha seemed to size him up for a moment longer, letting the silence stretch just enough to make the air thick with tension. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she gave a slow nod, her stance softening just a little. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” she said, her tone easing. “But I’m still watching.”

You felt a strange sense of pride at that. Aisha had always been fiercely protective of you, and while it sometimes grated on your nerves, you knew deep down it was just because she cared. No one had ever had your back the way she did. You weren’t sure if Rafe fully understood that yet, but from the way he glanced at her—slightly uncertain, but respectful—you could tell he was beginning to get the message.

“Enough of the heavy shit,” Aisha said, breaking the tension with a clap of her hands and a sudden bright smile. “This is supposed to be fun, right? I’m here to celebrate, and I’m done with the interrogation. So, let’s have some fucking fun!”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine as you clinked your glass with hers. The champagne sparkled in your hand, and for the first time that evening, you felt a sense of relief. The weight of the conversation had shifted from uncomfortable to just... amusing. Aisha was nothing if not relentless in her approach, but you appreciated the way she could lighten any situation, especially when it felt like the pressure of your fake engagement was hanging over your head like a storm cloud.

“To my best friend and her very determined boyfriend,” Aisha toasted, her grin widening. “May you both drive each other crazy for a long, long time!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Aish’. Really. A long, long time,” you echoed, sipping from your glass as she gave you a knowing look.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere began to shift. The crowd mingled, voices rose and fell in an endless tide of conversation, and the hum of background music seemed to fade into the distance. It felt like the world was in motion, but you and Rafe were standing still, caught in some kind of unspoken orbit that neither of you could quite navigate. 

People came and went, exchanging pleasantries, business deals, and compliments, but you and Rafe couldn’t seem to look away from each other. Even when he was speaking with someone else or laughing at a joke Aisha made, you felt his presence, heavy and undeniable.

You’d told yourself that tonight was about putting on a show for the cameras, about playing the part of the perfect couple, and you had every intention of sticking to the script. But as the night wore on, you realized how hard it was to keep pretending when Rafe’s touch lingered just a little longer than necessary, when his eyes followed you across the room with that possessive intensity you couldn’t quite ignore. There were moments when you caught him looking at you like no one else mattered, and for a brief second, the walls you’d so carefully constructed between the two of you threatened to crumble.

It wasn’t just the way he touched you when no one was looking, or the way he’d half-smiled at you in the middle of a crowd, as if sharing some private joke. It was the small things—the subtle ways he’d let you know he cared, even when he was keeping his distance. How his arm would brush against yours when you stood next to each other, how he’d glance at you in the middle of a conversation, as if checking to make sure you were still there, still paying attention. How he’d subtly reposition his hand on your waist, or how his thumb would brush against your back when you’d lean in close to hear something better.

And then, there were the moments when it seemed like neither of you knew how to deal with the chemistry that crackled between you. You’d both been avoiding it for so long, keeping your emotions buried under layers of professionalism and convenience, but tonight, it was becoming harder to ignore. The closer you got, the more the lines between what was real and what was fabricated began to blur.

A sudden vibration in your pocket startled you, pulling you out of your reverie. You slid your phone out, heart still racing from the interaction with Rafe, and your eyes immediately landed on the name that made your stomach drop: Mom.

Your heart skipped a beat as you unlocked the screen, only to see a simple message that made your blood run cold:

“Y/N, we’ve heard the news. This is a disgrace. This is not how we raised you. You’re nothing but a joke.”

You blinked at the message, trying to process it. News? What news? You hadn’t even talked to them in years. 

Before you could think further, the sickening feeling in your stomach intensified. Without even realizing it, you clicked over to the news app, and the headline that greeted you nearly stopped your heart:

“Rafe Cameron Engaged to Model Y/N Y/L/N: A Surprise Announcement”

Your pulse spiked, your fingers trembling as you scrolled down. The article was filled with blurry images from earlier in the evening, showing you and Rafe sharing moments too intimate for the cameras, your faces filled with a mix of affection and tension. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t supposed to be this fast.

How could this have leaked?

Your chest tightened as a suffocating wave of panic hit you. You could feel your breath quicken, the world around you suddenly feeling too small, too fast, and you couldn’t catch your breath. You looked around the room, your vision blurring as the walls seemed to close in. The voices around you grew muffled, the lights too bright, too harsh.

“Y/N?”

Rafe’s voice pulled you back to reality, but it was distant, like it came from a far-off place. You tried to focus on him, on his familiar blue eyes, but everything felt off, like you couldn’t quite make sense of what was happening.

The phone dropped from your hand, and before you knew it, your vision went dark. Your breath hitched in your chest as your body trembled with the onset of a panic attack. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

And then, in the midst of it all, you felt it—something slipping from your bag pocket, a small metallic sound against the floor. But you couldn’t focus on it. Not now. Not with everything else overwhelming you. Your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out the noise around you as you tried to steady yourself, hands trembling at your sides.

You heard the faint clink again, but you were too far gone, too panicked, to care.

Rafe’s arms were around you before you even realized he was there, his voice low and urgent. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” His hand was on your back, guiding you gently but firmly as he led you outside, away from the noise and chaos of the event.

“I—I—” Your words faltered, and you gasped for air, trying to calm your breathing, but it was like your lungs had stopped working.

“Shh, just breathe, baby, okay?” Rafe’s voice was steady, guiding you through it like he’d done this before. His hand was pressing into your back in rhythmic motions, trying to ground you. “You’re okay, I promise.”

You leaned against him, trying to steady your frantic breathing, but it was hard. Everything felt so chaotic, too fast. The news. The message from your parents. Rafe. Your relapse. The engagement. The shame. The eyes on you.

“I… I got a message from my parents,” you managed to gasp between breaths. “They already know... the news... I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready for any of this, Rafe.”

His face softened, but there was confusion in his eyes. He looked like he didn’t fully understand, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he just nodded and gave you a reassuring squeeze, his arms enveloping you in warmth. “Hey, it’s alright. We’ll figure this out. I’ve got you, okay?”

You buried your face in his chest, as if you’ve been doing forever, the tears finally coming, and you didn’t even try to hold them back. Your body shook as the sobs wracked through you. Everything felt like it was falling apart, all the control you’d tried so hard to maintain slipping through your fingers. The fake engagement, the pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, the constant balancing act—it was too much.

“Shhh,” Rafe murmured again, his voice a steady, comforting presence against the storm inside you. “You’re okay, baby. We’re gonna get through this.”

Still shaking, you pulled away slightly, wiping your face with the back of your hand as you tried to steady yourself. Rafe didn’t push you away. He just stayed close, his hands hovering near you, ready to catch you if you needed him.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. Not like this,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you spoke. “Everything’s happening too fast. I didn’t expect it to go like this, Rafe. I didn’t plan for my parents to know about this. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

He seemed to register the panic in your voice, though he still didn’t fully understand why it was affecting you like this. Still, he didn’t question you further. He just nodded again, that protective instinct rising in him. “Alright, we’ll get you home, okay?”

You nodded quietly as he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric warm against your skin. If you weren’t so caught up in your emotions, you might have found the gesture cute. “Yes, please…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Just relax, okay? I’m right here.”

Before you knew it, he was guiding you toward his car, his hand firmly but gently around your arm as he helped you get inside. The drive home was a blur, your mind a chaotic mess of racing thoughts. You tried to fight the exhaustion pulling at you, but it was useless. As soon as you buckled your seatbelt, your body seemed to give up the fight.

You curled up against the seat, closing your eyes, and within minutes, you were asleep. The quiet hum of the car as Rafe drove was the only thing that kept you tethered to reality.

Rafe glanced over at you every few moments as he drove, the concern never leaving his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you tonight, not since the moment the tension between you had grown so palpable. He could feel it in his chest—the fear that something would go wrong, that something would happen to make everything fall apart.

As he looked at you now, sleeping peacefully, he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him. He didn’t understand it—didn’t fully understand what was happening between the two of you—but the depth of concern he felt for you surprised him. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d wanted to protect you, how he’d wanted to be there for you when you needed it the most.

But now, as you slept, he realized something he hadn’t allowed himself to admit before: he didn’t want to lose you. The idea of seeing you hurt, seeing you break down, sent a pang of guilt through him. He hadn’t planned on this feeling, hadn’t planned on the way he’d come to care about you, but it was undeniable now.

Being away from you for two weeks made him come to a few undeniable realizations. He missed you—more than he’d like to admit. He missed the way your smile lit up the room whenever you looked at him, the playful roll of your eyes when you thought he was being ridiculous. He missed the banter, the little jabs you’d throw his way, always keeping him on his toes. Most of all, he missed hearing your voice, the way it grounded him in ways he never expected.

He regretted everything—the distance, the silence, the mess he’d made—and he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to make it right.

The car approached your apartment building, Rafe slowed down, glancing over at you one last time. You hadn’t stirred for a while, and he didn’t want to wake you up too abruptly, but he knew you needed to get out. He gently reached over and brushed your shoulder, speaking softly.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice careful as if not wanting to startle you. “We’re here.”

You blinked a few times, slowly coming to, the remnants of sleep fading from your face as you sat up straight. For a moment, you looked around, trying to get your bearings, and then your eyes landed on him. You offered him a small, grateful smile, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said softly, your voice still hoarse with exhaustion. “I really appreciate it.”

Rafe nodded, watching you with a mixture of concern and admiration. “No problem. You okay now?” His voice was gentle, but there was an undertone of worry that you couldn’t miss.

You gave a quiet sigh, nodding. “Yeah… I think I just needed some air.”

He stayed still for a second, waiting, as you unbuckled your seatbelt and started to gather your things. The quiet moment lingered before you stepped out of the car and made your way to the front door of your building. Rafe stayed in the car, just watching you, his gaze never leaving you. His chest felt tight again, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t fear of something going wrong—it was the simple concern of wanting you to be safe, wanting you to be okay.

As you reached the door, you fumbled through your bag, checking the contents. You muttered to yourself, growing more frantic as you checked again. A few seconds later, you pulled your head up in alarm.

“Shit…” you whispered under your breath.

Rafe’s gaze sharpened as he watched you struggle, a sense of urgency in your movements. He opened the car door slightly, ready to ask if something was wrong.

“Everything okay?” he called, his voice laced with concern.

You turned back, your eyes wide with panic. “I—I can’t find my keys.”

His brow furrowed. “You sure you didn’t leave them in the car?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “I’m sure I brought them with me. I always check for them before leaving... but I can’t find them. Oh god…” Your voice trailed off as the panic began to rise again, a wave of dread settling in your stomach.

Rafe’s gaze softened. He could see the distress building in you, and for a split second, he wished he could take that weight off your shoulders.

“Hey,” he called, getting out of the car now, taking a few steps toward you. “Maybe you dropped them inside, or—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice shaking. “I’m sure I had them when we left the event… Oh my god…” You froze, your hands hovering over your bag again as realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “I dropped them,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Rafe, but he heard you clearly. “When I… when I freaked out. I must’ve dropped them at the event. Damn it.”

You turned around, scanning the ground as if your keys might miraculously appear, but you knew deep down they were long gone. You quickly pivoted and rushed back toward Rafe’s car, your anxiety spiking with each step. Rafe watched you for a moment before following closely behind, his own mind racing as he processed the situation.

“Shit,” you muttered again, coming up to his car and looking inside like you could find your keys by some miracle. Rafe sat there, waiting for you to catch your breath before he spoke. “I’m sorry… I know this is a mess. I just—everything’s falling apart tonight. I didn’t expect any of this, and now… now I’ve lost my damn keys. I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe could see the exhaustion on your face, the mental and emotional toll of the evening weighing heavily on you. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel more alone in this.

“It’s alright,” he said, trying to calm you, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.” He thought for a second, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. “I can call a locksmith, or we can check inside the building for a spare key. Maybe someone can help.”

You were already shaking your head, your eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I… I don’t want to bother anyone. And I don’t want to stay out here all night.”

Rafe saw how visibly shaken you were, how overwhelmed you seemed by everything. The night had gone completely sideways for you, and he couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone, stuck in your apartment, still frazzled.

“You could stay at my place tonight…”

chapter eight

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[nubsdolls]

SYPNOSIS ; g/n reader x sparring partner! bakugou, fluff, not proofread .. matching bracelets , enjoy ! xoxo, jord .ᐟ

A/N; this was supposed to be a lil drabble but this came out longer than i intended .. anywaayss. I PROOOMISEEE im gonna start posting more i’ve disappeared for sosososso long.. in the meanwhile take this, luv u guys !!!!!

sparring partner! bakugou that swears he only bugs you 24/7 to “get your ass to training grounds” because you need to improve. no other reason because of course, he cant stand you.. or anything about you, for that matter.

so no, it doesnt “mean” anything when sparring partner! bakugou comes up from behind you to, “fix” your form. adjusting you by signaling you to rotate to the side by giving your hips a little push, nudging your elbows up so your face is protected by your hands.

sparring partner! bakugou who always insists to be near you, discreetly, if he can. because he obviously doesnt want it to seem like he cares, because he doesnt. even during training or maybe even an attack on the school? near you. covering you and making sure warn you of the sneak attacks from behind you.

and even though you practically hate sparring with him, because hes so damn ruthless, ensuring a trip to recovery girl by the end of it, its weirdly the highlight of your days. hearing the ding! of your phone, followed by the usual message from him.

: training grounds. 5 mins

even when its five in the goddamn morning. you never fail to meet him there.

and after a small while of this cycle, you make the (probably) safe assumption you guys are, friends? acquaintances?..hell, maybe you were even on kirishima’s level of ‘friend’. toleratable? at the least.

so while on one of your free days afterschool, youre shopping with the bakusquad. mina, jirou, denki, sero, kirishima, and obviously, bakugou. god knows how they convinced him to tag along.. you get lost in a cute little merch store, spotting matching all might bracelets. ew, corny. who would even get those?

ca—ching! “aaand heres your change, have a nice day!”

you would.

though, you probably shouldve thought this out.. who were you gonna match with? ofcourse, it could always be mina, but she also didnt absolutely fixate on all might. but, there was, one person you had in mind..

and sometime in the week after the hangout, at the end of your—no less than brutal, training session, you tiredly brought it up.

“the other day—while we were at the mall, i saw these matching all might bracelets—“ pant, “i kinda just bought on it on sight, annnd i didnt really think of who to give the other half to before i did.. but i know you like him, so..”

you trail off, simply suggesting it as you move over to sit down on a bench, taking a drink of water, while also, pulling out the bracelets from your pockets and reaching your free hand up to show him.

sparring partner! bakugou scoffs upon seeing the bracelets in your hand. golden age and bronze age all might bracelets.

“thats stupid. im not wearing that shit.” he growls, crossing his arms. his voice a little panted from training. you were getting better. not that he would tell you that directly, of course.

“chill, dynamight.” you roll your eyes playfully, emphasizing his hero name on your tongue. “i was just suggesting it, if you dont want it its fine.” you explain casually. even if, the sentence did hurt your feelings a little.

“ill just give it to izuku.” you shrug, you guys were friends, pretty close if you did say so.

and you almost swear you saw bakugou’s eye twitch. a glint of, jealousy? in his eyes as you bring up the green haired boy’s name.

he lets out an amused huff, rolling his eyes. “tch. whatever, give it to that nerd. not like i care.” before he reaches down next to you for your water bottle, taking a swing, airsip.

setting the bottle back down next to your thigh, he speaks up again. “‘aight, hurry, we arent done. round two.” he adds harshly, motioning with his hand for you to get back up.

“come on. please? one more minute. its so eaarlyyy.” you whine, almost pouty as you throw your head back. still exhausted from the sparring just a few minutes ago. 6am and hes annoyingly productive.

“hurry or i can blast your ass right here.” he glares down at you, grumbling through gritted teeth.

“im getting uupp, geeez.” you groan, lazily getting up from the bench and almost coming up to meet his full height.

later in the day, during class training, you figure you should probably find izuku to give him the other matching half, one already on your wrist.

you couldve sworn you remembered putting it back onto your other wrist so you wouldnt lose it. maybe it was in your dorm instead? whatever, youd just have to give it to him tomorrow.

today, you were working in partners, testing out new possible moves, strengths, weaknesses, and overall just trying to improve on any weak spots.

and like always, sparring partner! bakugou was next to you. basically having claimed you as his designated partner for anything by now, glaring at anyone who even suggested you work with them and not him.

and as your throwing hits at him, trying to catch him off base with your quirk, you notice a glint coming from under his gauntlet, you pause a moment.

its the matching half of your bracelet, all might’s golden age bracelet.

he notices this. feeling his ears dust the slightest pink from, embarrassment? and he uses this moment of weakness to gain the upper hand, pinning you down on the floor.

and youre completely shocked by the sudden move. somehow flipped on your chest to the ground, arms tucked behind your back with his knee holding you down.

“stay focused.” he hisses, reprimanding you for your bad habit.

“thought you said it was stupid?” you mutter. tilting your head to the side ever so slightly to look at him. a sly, cheeky smirk on your face.

“it is.”

maybe it wasnt so stupid after all.

[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[biancadoes1]

People constantly be like: „ohhh, they are platonic besties, haha!”

There is nothing platonic about these two. NOTHING. I have to give it to them, the beginning of the press tour and as a GA member you would think it's only showbiz.

Honest question, is it really possible for a man and a woman who have such an intimate connection and call each other best friends( not just a friend or close friend), to only be platonic? Maybe for sometime but eventually someone is gonna fall in love..

And good luck finding a partner who will be chill about it.

But as it went on you can not possible tell me that this is normal PLATONIC and PROFESSIONAL behavior. And when you begin to dig for background information and use your brain, you connect the freaking dots and you'll have an awakening!

Also, explain the professional jealousy, the innuendos, the pinching, the looks, the touches, acting and talking like they have been married for 100 years..guys feel free to add more stuff!!

Remember the Ireland stop? I was shaking my head because it was clear as day. Future vibes.

And last but not least, I don't have a relationship with anyone like I have with Luke. Yeah. No shit girl because he's your man!

I swear there is some insane history between these two, I just can't prove it.

#only speculations#my thoughts#but I see you NC and LN👀

👏👏👏👏👏

[thedevilrisen]

Concrete Impressions

Quinn x Reader!oc

Word Count: 1.3

Authorial Note: I hope you like it! This is basically the precursor fic to Cradle Me! I am making this an au, this is a little bit on how Quinn and Cookie meet! I will be making a part two to this fic!

TW: Not edited, swearing.

The day Quinn encountered you was the day he knew there was no one else for him. It was a warm autumn day on campus, though there was a significant breezing blowing with a spiteful chill. Your brown hair was tucked away in a neat plait down your back, a brown wide- ribbed sweater overlapping your dark patterned jeans which were rolled up over the top of your sneakers. You were waiting at the coffee cart, behind half-a-dozen people in line for their daily sustenance as well. Quinn watched from a table where he was placed, surrounded by a large group of his friends... well of some them were, other acquaintances, such as the sophomore girl who was trying desperately to giggle her way under his skin formed the majority of the numbers in the group. As you inched closer to the little counter at the front of the cart a blonde man, clearly impatient bumped into you. Quinn watched with wide eyes as you toppled over, books in hand spilling onto the dirty brick footpath.

Quinn had watched the young man who, essentially bumped you from your place in the line, stepped up to the vendor and ordered his drink. It troubled Quinn deeply that this young man had little to no regard for what he had done, or who he had done it too. At this point in time you didn't even know Quinn existed, or that he had singlehandedly decided that he need to know you, know if you could be the one. Because as he watched you part your hair from you face, tucking the unruly strands behind your ears as you pulled yourself and your books up from the ground, brushing the debris off your knees, Quinn knew that he needed to be the prince in your fairytale.

"Quinny! Where are you going!" the blonde girl, previously wrapping herself around his arm, nuzzling into his shoulder whined. This drew some attention from other members of the group, the watched as Quinn peeled the girl from his arm and quickly half walked, half jogged to where you were still trying to fix yourself up.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Quinn crouched down next to you, when you looked up at him, wide caramel eyes and a charismatic smile on your face he swear he almost melted.

"Oh! Yeah.. yes." you puffed out with a small laugh, "Just a bit of a topsy terby morning!"

Quinn was amazed at your optimism, it seemed like you were going to let the little situation upset the rest of your day. "Could I buy you a coffee?"

"Oh! You do not have to do that, I was purely just trying to get a small caffeine hit before my next class." you spoke, slinging your bag onto your shoulder, "Maybe even one of their amazing double fudge brownie cookies."

Quinn's lips tipped up in a small smile, "Don't ya think all of that chocolate is a-"

"Bit sweet?" you cut him off and Quinn nodded, letting out a breathy laugh, "I know. I love it though, especially when they heat it so the inside is all gooey!"

"I take it you like sweet things?" Quinn asked.

"You could say that!" you giggled back at him in response, stepping forward in line to the front, Quinn following beside you as you turned to the barista who was holding a cup and nico pen ready to take your order. "Could I please have.. a dirty chai on almond? Would you like anything?"

Quinn was surprised when she turned and asked if he wanted something, he stumbled out, “I’ll have a flat white.. two shots, two sugars please.”

Quinn smiles to himself airily, ‘she’s as gracious she is courteous.’ After shaking off his daze he spoke, “Didn’t you also want one of those… death by chocolate cookies?”

“Oh yes! Could I please have one of your double chocolate brownie cookies?” you asked, “Could you heat it up too please?”

The barista nodded and turned away to make your coffees and to retrieve the fabled cookie. Standing there Quinn realised he didn’t actually know your name, nor what you were studying. Just that you liked cookies and had a killer sweet tooth.

“So Cookie, do you have a name or am I gonna have to call ya that?” Quinn stated, breaking the ice.

“My name is Y/N, but you can call me Cookie if you would like stranger.” Y/N smiled back, eyes gleaming with humour.

“My name is Quinn.” He corrected. “You mentioned having class soon? Can I ask what you have?”

“Well Quinn.. I have modern history next.” You spoke, quietly thanking the barista as she passed over the two coffees and the box holding chocolate lava-y goodness. Together the both of you gravitated away from the cart, moving back in the direction of where Quinn was originally sitting. The group still crowding the tables.

“With Professor Ryan?” Quinn questioned hopefully, he had modern history next as well, was this his lucky day?

“Yeah! In the Carsledine building!” You took a sip of the steaming beverage in your hand, the other still holding the cookie box to your chest.

”I have MH too! Would you want to sit together in his lecture?” Quinn leaned over and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, exchanging a Quick handshake with a mate of his.

“Sure! I don’t normally sit with anyone but.. I guess things can change.” Y/N smiled, walking alongside with Quinn through the campus courtyard, taking note of the amount of female attention he received.

Quinn let Cookie slide in the door before he did, holding it open for her as she stepped into the expansive lecture hall. He followed her small frame as she nimbly weaved her way through the rows of fold up chairs. Cookie approached the the left side of the lecture hall, the wall was interrupted by a humongous window, offering an extensive view over the rest of the campus. Rain clouds hung low today, dew covered the bare branches of the deciduous trees. Quinn sat down next to her, he admired her gorgeous face as she pulled her iPad out of her bag. Quinn noted the way she meticulously set up her note taking page with her screen pen, placing in all the text boxes and writing headings out. She pulled a keyboard attachment out of her bag, navy coloured too. Being around you Quinn's gaze sharpened and his body longed to know every detail he could, like the fact that navy appeared to be a favoured colour. The glasses that you had delicately slid onto the bridge of your nose were a deep shade of navy blue with gold arms. The scrunchie you were tucking your long shimmering hair into a ponytail with. Your phone case, iPad case and keyboard as well as the colour of the ink she wrote onto the digital page with were all the same blue.

"Do you like sports?" Quinn had one channel of small talk he could always revert back too, and he was damned sure he was going to use it.

"I don't mind sports!" Cookie replied, looking up from the screen she was writing on, "I like skiing, cross country specifically none of that moguls business. I also run too, cross country as well!"

"Are you on the track and field team?" he asked, curious.

"I am! I captain the track team!" Cookie looked over at Quinn again, waving silently to the professor who had walked in. "What about you?"

"I play Ice Hockey." Quinn spoke, he wished to play his cards right. If he did so, maybe he could get her to a game. "I'm projected to draft in the first round of the NHL entry. I fly out to Dallas with my family in about a month and a half for it."

Cookie smiled, a little bewildered, "That is seriously awesome! Congratulations!"

For the first time Quinn didn't get that rolling feeling in his gut after telling someone where he was projected to go. Y/N took it with so much grace, she didn't pester him about it, she didn't instantly try to suck up and seduce him. She just accepted it. Congratulated him and seemed like she genuinely cared.

Holy fuck. Is this what being in love feels like?

[sharkgirldick]

A knight and a squire

Duty and loyalty are everything to a knight. I am sworn to no lord, no kingdom, only the people. Where the evil prey upon those who cannot defend themselves, I arrive with sword in hand. I am no legend, nor even a local hero. I would prefer if the lands never learn my name, no stories or songs written of my battles. I do what must be done, because it must be done.

Yet, still, I find myself with a squire. She is like I am, resolute in her desire to fulfil her duty. She is much like I was as well, unsure of her place in the world and just what justice and honor mean to her. She had come of age only the year before I came to her village to kill a beast that was plaguing their livestock. In the months since then, she had become a welcome companion on the lonely roads of the kingdom.

The night was cold, a perfect chill, our breath steaming away from us as we sparred. Her form had improved immensely in the last few weeks, though her footwork was still stiff. To punctuate that, I went in for a simple overhead swing, stepping slightly to the side to indicate what I planned to do. She brought her blade up to block, but stood in place. I weaved to the side, twisting my blade past her simple guard, baring the tip against her throat.

"Pay attention to more than just an enemy's blade. Watch where they move, and move with them." She looked at me for a moment, then I pulled my sword away from her. Cold steel no longer near her flushed skin, she nodded.

Later, our daily drills and sparring complete, we stat by the fire, a simply stew cooking over a pot.

"Sir?"

"We aren't strangers any longer, Grace. Just call me Valeria."

"M-Miss Valeria?" It would have to do. She was much too formal, even when we spoke in private like this.

"Yes?"

"Were you a knight of the Order?"

"No. I trained under a paladin for a time, but I was to be sworn to the realm when my training was complete."

"But you have told me you did not take an oath."

"In a way. On the day I was to be sworn, I instead made my own vow, and became an Errant. That has been my life for the past six years."

"So…" She hesitated, and I watched her from the corner of my eyes as I stirred the stew. "So you are allowed to take a spouse?"

I had to stifle a laugh. "Afraid you will never lay with someone, is that it?"

"No! I, just… I was curious if you had ever thought of marrying and starting a family."

"I have had my share of bed companions, especially on cold nights like we find ourselves in. I don't think I'll ever settle down anywhere, and a spouse… Maybe if they were also a knight and took to traveling with me. But many knights also dream of retirement." She lingered on that for a moment. "Allow me to respond in kind with my own question." She looked a bit startled, but nodded. "When you dream of someone in bed with you, do you think of a man or a woman? Or perhaps someone who is neither?"

Her cheeks, already red from the cold, turned even more crimson.

Looking away into the dark of the woods, she said "A woman."

"How many young ladies did you get the chance to romance before you left your village? I believe the innkeeper's girl seemed somewhat keen on you. At least, she was rather disappointed when you left with me."

She worked her mouth a bit, face still incredibly flushed, then, in a small voice. "No one. You are the only woman I have spent any time alone with." She looked up at me, and I turned my attention from the pot to her. In the moment that our eyes locked, I understood.

A little mischief crept into me, alongside a sly grin creeping onto my face. I moved the pot from the fire, satisfied with it. It wouldn't take too long to cool in this weather.

I moved closer to Grace, watching her intently now. "You are my student." I said, plainly. A nod from her. "Then… Would you like me to instruct you in love as well?"

"I…"

I pushed on before she could protest. "It wouldn't sit well with me if you didn't have the skills to woo a woman who catches your eye, even more so if you were completely in the dark once you could lay with her. In a way I've taken the opportunity for you to learn that on your own." I leaned in closer to her, the pale fog of our breath mingling together now.

"Sir, I wouldn't be-"

"Valeria."

"V-Valeria…" The little bit of confidence she had to properly argue withered away as she said my name. "Miss Valeria, I couldn't. You are… We are… I."

Slowly, gently, I cupped her face with my hand, and her words completely petered out. "Grace. The food will get too cold, soon. We only have a few moments. Would you like to kiss me?"

Her eyes went wide, her cheek as warm as the fire beside us against my hand. Taking a steadying breath, she nodded.

I leaned in, eyes closing, and I stole away my squire's first kiss. She was awkward, both from lack of experience and nerves, but she was warm, and I can't deny that I could feel my body react from almost a full year without this kind of intimacy.

I broke the kiss and leaned back, my hand sliding away from her face. She simply sat there, swaying, with her eyes closed. Unceremoniously, I stood and gathered our bowls and spoons, giving both of us a generous portion of our dinner, then set the pot aside to clean. I handed her our meal, then sat. We ate in a comfortable silence.

I promised her I would add romance and intimacy to her lessons, much to her embarrassment. I would have to cultivate her even more, my burden to my squire only growing.

Of course, all I could do was fulfil that obligation. After all, duty and loyalty are everything to a knight.

[sakashq]

Miedica. 𐙚 lamine yamal x black!reader

🤍 summary. Lamine is taking you on your first date together and he teases you for how awkward you are.

🤍 warnings. just fluff and banter i fear! also y/n usage 😒😒

🤍 wc. 600+

🤍 yap! i love lamine yamal nasraoui ebana with my heart. my starboy, golden boy, and my favorite boy. i fear no one loves him like i love him no beyoncé/yeah yeah yeahs. extra special dedication to myself because lamine is the loml!!

🤍 my girls <3. @ar4ujos @halfwayhearted @hrts4havertz @iovepoem @planetpedri !!

Now playing … While We’re Young by Jhene Aiko.

Baby while we’re young, I think we should do something crazy. Like say, “fuck everyone” and just run away from the daily routine. Yeah you know what I mean.

You were terrified. This was your first date with Lamine and your first date, well… ever. You had never been asked on one by a guy in a romantic way, not that it bothered you. It was just nerve-wracking that the guy you ended up liking the most would be the one. You didn’t know what to do, how to dress, or what to expect.

This was all new to you—and unfortunately, Lamine wasn’t going to let you live it down.

You arrived at the agreed place (the local fair), looking anxiously around for him. Maybe it would have been smarter to go together, but you weren’t ready for an awkward car ride quite yet.

“Y/n!” You heard a familiar voice call out to you. That same voice that melted cooly into your ears whenever you heard it, whether it was in person or his interviews.

You turned around, face to face with Lamine. “Hi Lamine.” You smiled, hoping your fear wasn’t displayed on your face for him to see.

“You look… amazing,” he returned the smile. “Is that the bracelet I got you?” He lifted your arm so he could see it more clearly. One thing about Lamine was that he had no sense of boundaries when it came to his friends. He was just a touchy person, growing up with the trait. You loved it about him.

“Yeah, it is,” you responded, feeling your face heat up with embarrassment. You hadn’t expected him to notice, certainly not this fast. Pulling your arm back, you asked, “Ready to go inside?”

Lamine tried to cover up his frown, masking it with his same award-winning smile. “Yeah.” He grabbed your hand, leading you in.

You passed a few rides and games before your eyes landed on the cutest plush tiger. “Oh my gosh, I need that tiger.”

“Which one?” He asked, standing next to you as you both looked at the vendor. You pointed to it and he nodded firmly. “Watch me work.” He held your hand, waving you through the sea of people. It sent a jolt through your body, his constant touchyness bringing you butterflies.

“Lamine, you’re insane,” you giggled as he handed the vendor his tickets.

“Oh, I’m insane for wanting to make you happy, okay,” he sarcastically responded, a sly smirk on his face. “I’m gonna win this tiger for you, miedica.”

“Disculpe? Miedica who?” You acted fake-offended, gasping and putting your hand on your chest.

He roller his eyes jokingly saying, “Forgot Héctor was teaching you Spanish. I need to tell him to stop.”

You giggled in response, watching him as he attempted to win your tiger. He did just that, handing the plush to you once won.

“Thank you, Lamine,” you smiled, holding the tiger close to you.

“Of course, miedica.”

Telling everybody your mine, and I like it. And I really hope you don’t mind, I can’t fight it. No, you know I cannot hide it ‘cause I’m so excited that I finally decided on you.

As the date went on, you realized maybe this wasn’t so bad. Until you got to the ferris wheel.

It was going so well, but he just had to recommend the most intimate ride of them all. Okay, fine. You were going to be super calm and chill about this.

Except your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest and you thought you were going to drown in sweat. Could you really do this? Was this going to be too much?

“Are you okay?” He broke you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking,” you responded. Half-truth, half-lie.

He nodded, grabbing your hand again and guiding you to your spot. You two were way too close together on this ferris wheel. Your shoulders were touching and you kept ‘accidentally’ brushing hands.

Lamine looked over at you and said playfully, “Hey, miedica. Are you scared of me or something? You act like this is your first date.”

You didn’t respond, just giving him a blank look.

His eyes slightly widened before saying, “Wait, it is?” When your nod gave him conformation, he continued teasingly, “I’m honored to be your first.”

“You’re saying it like it’s a kiss,” you scoffed with an eyeroll.

“Were we not going to do that?” He asked. When he saw your fear he followed up with, “Just joking. But if you’re offering…”

“Lamine!” You playfully hit him on his arm as if you were reprimanding a toddler for their wrongdoing. “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked me on a one-on-one date before.”

“Strange. So that’s why you’ve been such a scaredy cat all night.”

You glared at him saying, “Scaredy cat?”

He put his hands up as if he was surrendering. “No, I just mean whenever I grabbed your hand you’d flinch. I was starting to think you didn’t like me.”

Your face softened, a smile growing. “The problem is I like you a lot. I don’t know how to show that.”

Lamine smiled, saying, “Well, we can start with this.” He grabbed your hand, your fingers lacing inbetween his.

[yandereheathen]

The Cost of Protection [Yandere elf guard x Fem Reader] 18+ Chapter #2

Hoi! Hasn't it been forever? I got the bug again for this boy, and I think maybe Korm :> a little part #2, and I have #3 in the making for later this week! Thank you for all the asks. You are the people I wanted to make this for! approx 1,570 words Warnings: Non-con/kissing/ some violence, obsessive treatment, death threats. As always, I do not endorse relationships like this. It is just for fun! Please do not read in a rough state of mind.

A bitter chill clung to Barovia as you stepped out from your tavern, coin pouch clasped tightly in hand. Hope was scarce in these lands, but you held onto the thought of escaping Maverick’s grasp, even if it was just for a few hours of peace. The market streets were eerie in the early morning light, deserted but for a few drifting souls, hollow-eyed and battered by the bleakness of life under Strahd’s rule. You made your way to the stalls, intending to pick up a few supplies, something fresh and maybe something to brighten up the tavern. Your hand was already reaching for the vendor’s apples when you felt a rough tug at your waist, and before you could react, your coin pouch was gone. You spun around, catching sight of the thief’s shadow darting around a corner. “Stop! Come back here!” you yelled, but your voice barely echoed in the empty streets, swallowed by the mist and despair that never lifted in Barovia. Swallowing your pride, you made your way to the nearest guard post. Two Barovian guards lounged by the door, their eyes cold and bored as they watched your approach. You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves before speaking.

“Please, I need help,” you began, voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it louder would make the shame sting more. One guard sneered, his gaze sliding over you with disdain and dark interest. He stepped closer, grabbing the fabric of your shirt between his rough fingers and pulling you nearer, his breath hot against your cheek. “I can think of a way you might earn some help, sweetheart,” he murmured, his grin twisting with something sinister. Before you could protest, the second guard nudged him with a sigh. “Nah, she’s Maverick’s girl,” he muttered, giving you an appraising look. “He’ll be pissed if we touch her. Go crawl back to him if you want help so bad.” They shoved you off, sending you stumbling back a step as they laughed, their voices fading into the mist. Gritting your teeth, you stomped your foot in frustration. “Bastards,” you spat under your breath. Straightening your shirt, you tried to collect yourself, brushing off their words as you turned back toward your tavern. Back inside, you searched through your small collection of trinkets, fingers grazing over rings and pendants, hoping you’d stashed away enough to sell and make up for the lost coins. But just as you reached into the drawer, you felt a cold sensation on your thigh—the hilt of a sword lifting the edge of your skirt. “Hmm… black today,” a familiar, chilling voice purred from behind. “Trying to shut someone out?” You jumped, spinning around, pressing yourself against the wall as your heart hammered in your chest. There he was, Maverick, still in his guard uniform, looking every bit the devil with that smirk across his face. “I heard you had some trouble today, little bunny.” His voice was low, dripping with mock sympathy, as he set down a small pouch on the table beside you. Your pouch—the one that had been stolen. But now, it was splattered with minor, fresh stains of blood. “A gift,” he purred, drawing closer, his golden eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction. Before you could respond, his arms closed around you, trapping you in an iron embrace. You tried to twist away, hands pushing at his chest, but his grip was unyielding. “Please… let go,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your neck. “No,” he replied, voice heavy with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. His teeth sank into your shoulder, the sharp pain blossoming as you felt his teeth break the skin. You screamed, the sound filling the small room as blood seeped from the wound, trailing down your chest in warm rivulets. He groaned, his breath hitching with sick satisfaction as he licked the blood from your skin, his hold tightening, crushing you against him. You struggled, pushing, desperate to escape, but his grip grew firmer, his amusement rumbling against your skin. He pulled back, his face inches from yours, a twisted smile playing on his bloodstained lips. “Remember this, little bunny,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost affectionate. “You’re mine. No one else is allowed to touch you, help you, or save you. You belong to me.”

Maverick’s fingers grazed over your collarbone, the roughness of his touch stark against the soft skin he’d just marred. His gaze bore into yours, a wicked satisfaction glinting in those golden eyes, watching for every hint of your reaction. You held your breath, your pulse racing as he drew closer, his lips brushing your jawline, his voice a low whisper. “Do you understand, little bunny?” he murmured, his tone carrying an unsettling gentleness that only heightened your discomfort. You clenched your fists, refusing to give in to the sway of his words. Your body tensed as you pushed against him, struggling to twist out of his grasp. But he didn’t budge, his hand pressing against the small of your back, holding you in place with an ease that both frustrated and frightened you. “Stop fighting me,” he purred, his voice soft but commanding, his hand slipping from your back to trace the curve of your hip. You squirmed under his grip, a fierce glare on your face as you met his eyes. “Let go of me,” you hissed, anger masking the flickers of betrayal that your body was beginning to reveal. Heat rose to your skin as his touch lingered, his fingers pressing into you with a possessive intensity that sent unwanted shivers down your spine. You fought the reaction, the betrayal of your body, the way your skin seemed to tingle under his touch despite every protest in your mind. “Why must you resist?” he murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of hesitation and rebellion in your stance. His hands traced down, capturing your wrists, pinning them against the wall beside your head, his face mere inches from yours. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it,” he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. His grip tightened, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. Every inch of your body seemed to betray you, the warmth of his touch igniting sensations you’d instead have denied, your pulse quickening even as you struggled to pull away. He leaned in, his mouth ghosting over your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers along your skin. “You’re mine,” he said again, his voice soft but unyielding. His hand moved, tracing the lines of your body with a dark reverence, savoring the tension, the resistance, the way your breath caught with every touch. You fought the sensations, the rebellion in your mind conflicting with the stir of warmth spreading through you, your body’s involuntary response only fueling the twisted satisfaction in his gaze. He leaned closer, his hands trailing down your sides, his touch both rough and reverent, as if claiming each part of you with a dark insistence. “See, even your body understands,” he murmured, his fingers pressing into you with deliberate slowness, his gaze never leaving yours. Despite every struggle and protest, you couldn’t deny how your pulse raced under his touch, the heat rising against your will. He grinned, having enough, and pushed you down, falling to your ass when he had you mesmerized. “Now. Show me how thankful you are, bunny, for me helping you.” the fabric on his pants was rough and slightly dirty from the mud as your cheek was rubbed with this clothed cock. He lets out a shivering moan. “so soft…but I want to feel something softer.”

You start shaking and crying as you feel his veins and skin sliding in and out of your mouth, young and then lips in a popping noise. He is not as gentle as when he first started clear. A need inside him was burning, screaming to get out, and your mouth would take the punishment of it. Every thrust of your head bounced painfully at the wall, you let out a cry, and he gets rougher now, grabbing your hair and dragging you back and forth. The worst part is. Not that you can’t breathe. Not the pain in your head. But the warm, dizzy feeling in your head and the…warmth dripping on your legs. The room spun, fear blurring your vision as his words sank in, the weight of your captivity closing in, suffocating and inescapable as you felt his cum down your throat. "Mine"

[enbysiriusblack]

rereading lily's letter to sirius:

starting off strong with 'dear', very formal letter writing but also kinda endearing depends how you look at it. BUT she follows with his 'padfoot' soo it's def endearing. it already shows just how close the two are from those two words.

ofc harry's favourite present was the one sirius got him (#bestdogfather)

ofc sirius gets a 1yr old a toy broom (#funnestdogfather)

i love how chill lily is about harry almost killing the cat and smashing a vase. she's so the fun mum. also petunia and lily still sending each other christmas presents, like why do i find that so sad/sweet?? idk. i love their relationship sm it's so interesting. and ik some people are gonna be thinking 'oh petunia probably regifted the ugly vase' but no. i think she went shopping specifically for lily and picked it out thinking it looked great (she's got horrible taste)

lily saying james found it funny as if she didn't also. girl please, you know you found it so fucking funny. also james already planning out harry's quidditch career. the man is obsessed. (no war au hari def would've became a professional qudditch player i fear)

btw if you're not british, "we've had a very quiet birthday tea", basically means like an afternoon tea. they're not just drinking tea, they do have tea but also some food (like lunchy food, sandwiches and cakes) and sit down at a table and chat basically. and harry will likely also be opening presents during it too

harry kinda having a doting grandma with bathilda>>>

lily prioritising the order !! she's so responsible, smart, dedicated i love her. plus she's being so real about babies. like. yeah he ain't gonna remember it anyway (also i'm guessing this means like. sirius had an order mission so couldn't come to harry's birthday? but does this mean peter and remus did too? or was only sirius invited??)

james having trouble with just staying at home constantly <33 and trying to hide it so lily doesn't worry <333 cutest husband ever.

fuck dumbledoreeeee. i don't mind him sometimes, but how dare he take james' cloak (his family heirloom) so james and lily and harry can't go on secret outing together??? they are NOT made for staying inside. james needs his runs and flying and fresh air and chats to strangers and lily needs her woods and nature and hiking and camping.

"if you could visit, it'd cheer him up so much" SHE GETS THEM.. SHE GETS THEM

lily also calling peter "wormy", they're so also her best friends and not just james', do NOT even argue.

ik people argue this bit about the mckinnons as a proof lily was never close to marlene, but it so is proof of the opposite to me!! maybe i'm coldhearted, but i would NOT be crying all fucking evening just cause a family that i kinda know and am colleagues with one or a few of them got killed.. all evening??? ALL EVENING?? yeah, they were def close friends for sure. (and she's not just gonna single out marlene because it was ALL her family, it'd be a bit weird and disrespectful to only say marlene. especially if you, as a lot of people do, hc lily and marlene as roommates and close friends all throughout school. like lily would've visited marlene's family quite a few times. she'd know them fairly well)

lily getting ALL the gossip about dumbledore from bathilda. love that for her. also her not believing dumbledore was friends with grindelwald i'm giggling. she would've lost her mind at the idea of them as exes fr (also lily building up the suspense about dumbledore being friends with grindelwald by putting the "friends with grindelwald" part on the next page so he'd have to read the next page.. she totally didn't just run out of room. that was on purpose)

"lots of love" SCREAMING. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SM. lilypad ily. lilypad ily. bestfriends fr!!!!!!!

also not related to the text itself, but severus taking the page where lily says "lots of love" and cutting lily out of the photo of harry on his broomstick like... FUCKING MAN.. that was for SIRIUS. that's lily's love for SIRIUS. don't take her love, she didn't fucking mean it for you, don't try to pretend it was you, you absolute wanker.. anyway

[popjunkie42]

Hungry Thirsty Roots - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Chapter Two:

“We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?”

Christina Rosetti Goblin Market

Feyre faces the consequences of her poorly-worded wish as she returns to a mate enchanted to give her all of her desires.

Tags: just so much smut, mild magical dubcon, UTM stuff, light bondage

Thank you to my loves @climbthemountain2020 and @witch-and-her-witcher for the beta read!

I don't know, I just wrote you so many words of smut. I also don't want to let go of October. Don't look too closely at the plot or anything here. Please enjoy!

Read on AO3 and a snippet under the cut:

Feyre’s bare feet knocked uselessly against the wall, her hands pinned above her, firm pressure on her neck robbing her lungs of air.

In the darkness, all she could see was the flash of violet eyes, the bright glint of teeth.

Just as quickly as it came, the magic grip released around her neck and she coughed, still dangled off the wall, the tang of magic in the air.

“Rhys - what -”

“I believe I asked you a question, human.”

The High Lord hovered in the sharp silver light of the moon. His eyes - his eyes were swallowed up with deep swirling violet, not stars but whole galaxies rippling in them, undulating like waves on the sea. Not a black pupil in sight.

Feyre froze.

She could still feel the path the peach pit took down her throat, thick and rugged.

I wish for one night with my mate where things are back as they were, in the beginning between us.

Breaths came out of her in heavy pants. In the beginning between us. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Before she could sift through the enchantment at work on her mate, the cool tickle of smoky midnight tendrils caressed her bruised throat again. A reminder, laced with threat.

Sometimes she forgot what he had been like Under the Mountain. Something sickly churned in her stomach and she wondered if the enchantment would end if she threw the whole pit up.

“It isn’t wise to keep a High Lord waiting, darling. Or do you simply have no good explanation, and are attempting to save a shred of your dignity?”

Feyre blinked, the oxygen finally flooding back into her brain.

She had forgotten this too - how he could be such an insufferable ass.

Dressed as casually as he was, with a fine embroidered dressing robe over his bare chest and soft sleep pants, one might think he would be slightly less menacing. But even as his bare feet sunk into the carpet of their bedroom, Feyre couldn’t help the chills that erupted over her flesh. He cocked his head, all observant predator, and desire started to grow unbidden, a heat deep in her gut.

Surprising, and annoying, that he could always affect her so. Even this vulnerable to him - her body exposed for the taking.

Or perhaps because of it?

He clicked his tongue, disappointed. “So, I’ve caught the stubborn, vicious human girl sticking her pretty nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. The guards once told you I’d pull your skin from your body, strip by strip. A little messy for me, truth be told. Tell me Feyre, how would you like to be punished for invading a High Lord’s room without an invitation?”

The chill of fear turned into the crackling fire of anger - sparks that started to catch in her chest.

The joints of her shoulders burned, blood rushed from her fingertips, but she readjusted to straighten her body, lifted her chin.

First she was going to deal with her mate, and then she was going to hunt Mother Enfys down and repay her hospitality in kind.

His mind was trapped in an earlier time - her mate and his mask Under the Mountain. But it was fine. She knew him there, as well.

“I’m not afraid of you, Rhysand.”

He stopped his pacing, facing her fully. Dark features highlighted in the moonlight, haughty and beautiful.

“Stubborn, vicious…and foolish too.”

Feyre bared her teeth. Leave it to her mate to make her want to slap him and eat him whole.

And he stood so far away she couldn’t even feel the heat of his body, could barely catch his scent.

Unacceptable.

“Is part of my punishment being tied up and forced to listen to you talk to yourself?” Feyre asked.

The High Lord quirked an impatient eyebrow, flicked a piece of lint off of his shoulder.

She wanted him so much, annoyed as she was, it made her feel light headed again. The lack of his touch - his careful distance - was primed to drive her mad. Combined with the insistent thrum of the mating bond in her chest, to protect, protect - any distance from him was somewhat unbearable. And any panic and fear were eaten up into something else, stoked inside her belly - a thrill, a need, to break through his walls.

What do you dream of? Mother Enfys had asked.

“You haven’t answered my question yet, of what you’re doing here. And dressed so deliciously.”

A little scoff escaped her mouth. He might be enchanted, but he was still her mate.

Her eyes roamed over his form as he regarded her, haughty and bored. Besides the enchantment in his eyes, he seemed…fine. Body whole and unharmed, at least. Personality matched to his dark mask.

But would he remember this in the morning? Would he be angry with her? If the roles were reversed, would he have locked her in a closet, kept safe and alone until morning broke the enchantment cast over them both?

Guilt welled up under her racing mind, under her desire. This was her fault, her foolish bargain.

Feyre took a breath, trying to calm her thoughts.

Whatever might happen, he was hers and she was his. He could trust her, always. She wouldn’t let any harm befall him.

And maybe, just maybe, he could be convinced to let something like this go, in light of his past transgressions.

He stared at her, still waiting for an answer, his annoyed menace filling the room like smoke.

“What if I’m here for you?” Feyre spoke aloud into the cold.

Rhysand smiled, incisors flashed. “Now you want me to believe you enjoy my company? Tell the truth now. I can read your mind, you know.”

She licked her lips, plotting, weighing what she knew of her mate - “You’ll laugh.”

“The alternative is you’re punished for lying.”

“Oh.”

Feyre wondered if he had noticed her scent changing, the way she watched his powerful thighs as he paced. The way her mouth was parted, tasting the air for his scent.

Speak your desire, and it will be fulfilled.

She breathed deeply, wet her lips. Spoke, voice a quiet whisper:

“How would you punish me?”

Rhysand went still.

The air between them charged, like crackling lightning. She shivered, muscles taut.

Ribbons of darkness slowly unfurled against her skin as she was released, and she dropped her arms with a sigh, blood rushing back to her fingertips.

Frowning, the High Lord strode towards her. A voice in her whispered: finally.

He towered over her, standing above her like a looming shadow.

Feyre let herself feel the thrill of fear again. If this was her role, then she would play it, and well - the human plaything of the dark High Lord.

“What are you scheming, Feyre?” he asked, his voice low between them. “You know how dangerous it is when you get silly ideas in your head.”

Prick prick prick. “I think they’ve gotten me this far.”

He snorted, very un-High Lord-like. “Not without ample amounts of my assistance, if you’ll recall.”

Oh, he was infuriating, and oh, how she loved him. Warmth spread in her chest as she remembered his assistance. The knife’s edge they walked underground. The way he loved her, even now…how even now he was protecting her. Even from himself.

Feyre didn’t know how much he remembered, perceived about their changed circumstances under the enchantment. Perhaps she was glamoured in his eyes - rounded ears, shorter limbs, that hungry, fierce human look. But she would play her part - and she thought she could lead him to what they both wanted.

“Why did you come to my room, Feyre?”

She was silent a moment, and she pressed her wrists together in front of her, as if she longed to be bound again. “I got lost looking for the kitchens,” she lied.

He stepped closer, his breath brushing her hair. “Stop playing games. You’re terrible at them.”

In her mind, Feyre carved out a small room, right at the surface, for him. Filled it with her feelings, her desires, her needs. Shielding over all the memories, her amusement, her plots barreling towards seduction.

“I’m not playing games.” Wasn’t she? What might one call a drunken bargain in a magic market, a fumbling and inelegant wish spoken into the air? If not a game then a foolish mistake - but one she had to see through to the end now.

She had to be bold - be brave. “I wanted -” the faltering of her voice was not an act. “Just one night. Just for one night, I want you to help me feel something different. Something…” she stuttered, grown shy again, missing the words to what she wanted. Rhys’s jaw was clenched tight in front of her. She tried to capture her feelings, send them down the bond.

Something to banish away the memories of Under the Mountain, of her bleeding to death in a bed. But also something controlled, something that might be frightening but where her life wouldn’t be at risk…flesh she would trust under his hands.

Rhysand’s eyes flickered back and forth across her face, unsettling under the enchantment. “You believe you can trust me enough for that?”

“Can I?”

His eyes shuttered. Then closed.

“You’re a fool to trust anyone down here, any of us at all,” he said, his voice quiet, opening his eyes again to see her face.

“No, I’m not. Not with you.”

He was so close to her now, his scent in her nose. The darkness poured from him like water.

Feyre leaned up on her toes to kiss him, but he twisted his face away from her. Still uncertain.

“Please,” she whispered against his cheek. That hammering need inside of her roared to life, overcome with wanting him - his skin, his heat, his body - as much as air, as water.

He growled, and for a moment she was afraid he was angry. He swooped down so his teeth were next to her neck, her pulse thrumming in her veins.

His breath was warm and wet on her skin, and she shivered.

“I like it when you beg.”

Feyre couldn’t help her grin.

“I know.”

Halting, testing, Rhys placed a gentle kiss on her hammering pulse, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin, and she whimpered.

She could feel his smile against the skin of her neck, the pleased hum from his chest.

“Now darling, how do you think a High Lord should punish you for lying?”

[constantfragmentation]

It's bugging me...

The inconsistencies and a lack of detail and continuity in S2. S1 was all about the tiniest details.

Don't get me wrong, the animation is gorgeous, BUT --

The underwater scene is where Jinx lets Silco go.

He was RIDDLED with bullets. Yet, not a mark on him?

Why is his damaged eye closed? I thought he didn't have an eyelid. Artistically, I think having his lifeless eyes glazed over would have been more dramatic, considering it's Silco. Nah, he just sinks like Jack to the depths of the Titanic.

How deep IS the Pilt River?? I'm assuming that's where she 'buried' him.

The whole first act is so damn rushed.

No one seems to wonder what happened to Silco? He was only the main person holding the Underground together by the strands of his pomade hair. His death is a BIG deal, yet it's glossed over. No one questioned any of it???

Sevika is just, okay, let's move on like it's another day (granted, Zaunites are probably predisposed to be like that, but that doesn't make for good storytelling if you're not letting the audience in on anything), and chatting it up with Jinx as if they just bonded. I didn't feel that happen. I like that they low-key ripped into him post mortem, because that feels natural but what got them in that room together DOESN'T.

I want to know how these characters FEEL. You got that in spades during S1. But S2 is just expecting you to assume or they would attempt to take the time to use what would be great writing and evolving these characters.

Caitlin is hurting, I get it. But she went full Commando Psycho mode. Girl, everyone has lost parents, siblings, etc... She doesn't even flinch when Vi tells her Enforcers killed BOTH her parents. She's lost a beloved sister... but Cait is affronted when Vi shirks from becoming an Enforcer. Let's just forget what PIltover did to Zaun for generations and to LOADS of people.

Vi? Oh girl. What happened to you?

Jinx is a bit better but not much. I don't buy Silco's death was a zap to the brain to chill her out a bit. She's still my Chaos Queen but unless there is something to explain some shit in the following episodes, I'm going to be really ticked at the lack of care in characterizations with who are the supposed leads in this story.

Jesus Viktor. That's it. That's all I got.

Well, I did LOL when he woke up and gave Jayce the "bye Felicia" in 2.2 seconds.

We don't get to know what Ekko is thinking since all this shit went down? As far as he knows, Jinx is dead and to learn to she bombed Piltover?

The music videos substituting for the plot are REALLY bugging me. It's lazy writing. The music was used well in S1 to ENHANCE the scene (well, except for giving Imagine Dragons an animated cameo). Here, it's used as exposition, but it's not nearly good enough.

Useless characters and side-characters. Poorly executed plot devices. Uninteresting plot devices and trying to use the S1 parallels for characterizations.

S1 took time to introduce and flesh out these characters, even the side-characters.

We only had Vander for 3 episodes but he was a HUGE character. Marcus, Mylo, Claggor, Benzo, Grayson, Finn.... all were interesting and played an important part.

Jayce continues to be blah. So I'm not bothered.

Ambessa looks to be the new villain but it's not hitting with me. Plus, there's zero foreshadowing on some stuff in her arc that would have been useful last season.

I like Mel but I'm waiting to see what happens with her.

Hermydingding going all Mission Impossible. Just stop. Does he not give two furry fucks about what happened to his fellow councilmembers and Piltover?

I feel like RIot is trying to shove way too much into one season and sacrificing good story-telling to do it.

I miss the details.

So far, I'm really underwhelmed with this season.

[kaliforniahigh]

Hi! Hope everythings good w you!

Can we have boyfriend Noah w bisexual reader? 😊

Idk maybe something like, thirsting over the same girl... idk idk do your magic!

Thanks!

I desperatly wanted to write a fxfxm threesome, but as a bi girl, I don't know how other people would feel about this, since it's a pretty big stereotype. If anyone is ever interested in something like this, let me know!

I wrote Noah as reader's friend in this!

You would like to say you and Noah had different types in women, but that would be a lie. It wasn't uncommon for you both to find out you've hookep up with the same girl once or twice.

He loved to boast about the fact that he pleased women so much better than you, and you loved to tell him that wasn't possible, because you're a woman yourself, and you knew exactly what they liked, and that was an advantage in itself.

He was way more straightforward that you were, you would give that to him, But that was only because it was hard to tell if the girl you had your eyes on also liked girls when you went out to bars with the boys.

So usually, you would find him chatting up the girl you just told him 10 minutes ago you found attractive. He would give you a wink from the bar and you would just roll your eyes at him.

Right now, you were at a house party, observing Ava, a friend of Nicholas. He gave you all the info on her beforehand, telling you that he was inviting her to the party, the she liked girls and that she was single. It was time to make your move and maybe end the night with a nice girl beside you.

Right as you were about to start walking towards her to strike up a conversation, you saw Noah start making his way over to her. You picked up your pace and caught up to him, getting in front of him and making him stop in his tracks.

"You're not doing this tonight", you told him, your finger probing his chest. Your voice was resolute.

"Doing what?", he had a smug look on his face that told you he knew exactly what you were talking about.

"That girl over there? I'm gonna go out there and flirt with her, you can stay on the sidelines and watch", you raised your eyebrows at him.

"Ok, ok", he put his hands up as in surrender.

"Maybe you can watch and write down a thing or two about how to charm a woman", you teased him, not missing the opportunity.

"Maybe I will. There's this girl I've been trying to charm, but she's pretty hard to win over", he looked at you up and down, and you felt a chill run down your spine. You had a feeling he could talking about you, but you shrugged it off.

"Maybe it's just you who isn't all that interesting", you held a challenge in your eyes, and he took a step closer to you, lips going to whisper something in your ear.

"I'll ask Nicholas to invite his friend over to hang out with us next weekend. Maybe I'll take her up to my bedroom and then she can decide who's more interesting"

And with that, he made his way past you, shoulder slightly brushing yours. And you were left there, mouth a little agape at his insinuation.

But he would learn you're not the one to back down from a challenge.

[jbaileyfansite]

Vanity Fair Interview for the Hollywood Issue (2024)

In the last 13 months or so, Jonathan Bailey has carried on a secret gay love affair in McCarthy-era Washington, performed cunnilingus in a Regency England manor, rendered teenage boys speechless with a pop-philosophy lecture, and danced through life in a prince’s bedazzled breeches. This coming summer, he’s fleeing dinosaurs.

That would be in, respectively: Fellow Travelers, Bridgerton, Heartstopper, Wicked, and Jurassic World Rebirth. But even if he’s just pretended to do all those things, it’s understandable why Bailey is, right now, pinking his nose at a villa in Puglia.

“It is just so dreamy to be able to chill out,” he says via Zoom. “The cortisol levels have depleted.”

Playing Fiyero in Wicked was a dream come true for Bailey, who at one point in our conversation fantasizes about going to a Broadway rave with his castmates—he refers to Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo as simply “the girls”—and dancing to techno remixes of Wicked tracks, like “Defying Gravity,” under pulsating green lasers.

After filming the two-part movie with the girls, he’s nabbed an Emmy nod for Fellow Travelers and started a charity, the Shameless Fund, to uplift the LGBTQ+ community he’s proud to be a part of.

We’re thrilled to have Bailey as part of our 2025 Hollywood Issue. Here, he shares his thoughts on being a change agent in Hollywood, how he chooses roles, and the secret talent that he wishes he’d kept a secret.

Vanity Fair: What a run! How are you feeling?

Jonathan Bailey: I’m very much enjoying my holiday. But the girls started rehearsing Wicked, what, two and a half years ago? I think people assume that I haven’t had any breaks, but I have. Also, we had the strike right in the middle. What was crazy is going from Fellow Travelers to Wicked, just insane.

The Wicked movie is so close to the stage show that if you’re a big fan, you’re not going to be like, “Well, I can’t believe they…” It hews so closely, how could you complain there? But that flip. Are you a secret tumbler?

I remember I’d flown back from Canada and then I was filming Bridgerton. I met the girls then, and they were well and truly underway. I remember going to the dressing rooms, and theirs were pink and green and were just spilling into the hallway. And mine was just an interrogation room with nothing.

But I did spend the whole day with [choreographer] Chris Scott and went from Chris Scott to see [musical writer] Stephen Schwartz, and it was just, for me, boot camp days. You just lean on the amazing choreographers and obviously [director] Jon M. Chu’s vision. So when it came to the beginning of “Dancing Through Life,” I felt like it had to be sort of a flair and sort of performative, but hopefully in a way that was just with abandon and not arrogance. I did gymnastics growing up and I did dancing. I was the only boy within a whatever-mile radius. And because I was a boy and I was dancing, whenever the Royal Shakespeare Company wanted to cast someone, they called. It was dancing that got me into acting. And in dance school—not school, but a hobby club—they had acrobatics, which I was obsessed with. So I had, and still do have, a very bendy back, as shown in Wicked.

I’m a big fan of Heartstopper, the books and then the show; I loved the comic. Was that something that you sought out, or they were like, “Hey, we need someone who’s so handsome that he sends multiple people into a crisis”?

I sort of wedged myself into that part. I was so moved by the series and also the graphic novel.

And, of course, doing Bridgerton—it’s funny what comes with doing a lot of press, and suddenly there’s a lot that people want to know about you, and there’s a lot that’s asked of you that, obviously, in any other industry, you wouldn’t have to talk about. So I was hyperaware of the complexities and nuances of how I felt about myself being a gay man, let alone a gay actor, and suddenly finding success in playing a straight part and talking about that. Heartstopper seems to allow people to feel catharsis and to feel a sort of melancholic sort of nostalgia for what could have been. I was feeling all of those things anyway. And [executive producer] Patrick Walters is really good friends with Josh Cole, who produced Crashing, so it is all a bit of a small world.

I love the cast. I think they’re brilliant. I remember seeing all of them speak to their own experiences and being like, My God, they’re so erudite and grounded and thoughtful and kind and compassionate in their answers. I would be really proud of myself if I could be a part of that as my younger self. Everyone above the age of 40 should be forced to watch it.

Do you think that Hollywood is more open to risk than it used to be? So many of these projects wouldn’t have existed 10 years ago.

Yeah. And with huge budgets and [the] trusting of Universal and Donna Langley and Peter Cramer, obviously they just got the right people, with Marc Platt, and they took their time. That’s the common denominator between these things: Fellow Travelers took 10 years to percolate and run its way in his genius, genial brain, and then four years to commission. Wicked, I think they’ve been trying to make a film of it for over 10 years. With Jurassic as well, this time they’re going back to David Koepp, the original writer of the original film, and Gareth [Edwards] is shooting on film.

I’m going to crack on with the work and I’m just incredibly excited for opportunities. I do think that as long as the work is good, anyone should be able to do the job. And I think that’s what���s changed. I obviously did not imagine myself in this sort of career, so that must be a sign of progress.

Do you get recognized out and about a lot? You’re in all these properties now that have such intense fan bases.

It’s funny—obviously, you do get recognized, but the Bridgerton of it all is really interesting, because it’s one thing to be on a show that is national, but I feel like I was more recognized outside of the UK than in the UK. It takes time to adjust to, it really does. It’s not an easy thing, but it also is amazing.

Do you have any secret talents? You already said that flipping is your party trick.

Yeah, I think that, and I was going to say dexterous toes…

What do you do with them?

…. but I would regret that, so I didn’t say it.

But then you did. What can you do with them that makes you so sure they’re dexterous?

Nothing about this goes well...I just remember entertaining my sisters by being able to pick things up with my toes, but like a monkey. But we probably don’t need to put that in writing.

Physical therapists, I’m sure, hail you.

I did ballet for ages, and I’ve only as an adult found out I’ve got very flat feet. Doing Fiyero, I learned that. And the physio one day walked in because my knees were twanging, and across the room he went, “You got flat feet.”

Your big secret: flat feet.

Yeah, that’s my party trick as well.

Revealed. Do you consider yourself to be a rule follower or a rule breaker? Are you afraid of getting in trouble?

I’m not a rule breaker, I just don’t really adhere. Do you know what I mean? If someone says, don’t do that, I won’t not do it. Probably people would always have said I was probably quite naughty.

You have a philanthropy, the Shameless Fund. Can you tell me about what inspired you to start that?

I’ve always found it is impossible to talk about this without sounding like an asshole, but it’s something that I do think about: opportunities for other people. And I also see where there’s an abundance of energy, whether that be money or creative, that could be siphoned off into other areas.

With the Shameless Fund particularly, there were certain commercial opportunities that were coming my way that I just wasn’t interested in because they just didn’t feel right, or I didn’t want to be stepping into [them]. I’m hoping next year we’re going to start giving out grants, in 2025.

Whom will the grants be going to?

Well, we’ve got three that we are certain on, nonprofits and charities that work internationally and locally in the UK for areas of the LGBT+ community, to educate and elevate. Hopefully, we’ll get to a point where we can offer smaller nonprofits a platform.

The three weeks after Bridgerton came out, there were so many requests from charities that I found it so upsetting and distressing because I wanted to do all of them. “Can you come to this thing, or can you speak, or can you send a shoe, or could you send a bag? Could you sign a script?” So this is also a way where you can work with multiple groups, become a bit of a patron.

Is there anyone who you feel reached back and helped you along in your career too?

Theater directors massively. Ian McKellen was wildly amazing, and I did King Lear with him. He was one of the first people to come to see me when I did Cock on the West End, and we went for a drink afterwards. He was so clear about how it might play out, and should it play out that way, what to be excited about and what to be aware of. I couldn’t wish for a better role model.

Source

[desmon1995]

After Dark: The Park, Power, and Abuse

Alright, let’s talk about The Warriors Album—specifically The Park at Night, which I’d argue is one of the most gut-wrenching songs in the entire album. If Sick of Running was a blazing, victorious high, then The Park at Night is its dark reprise, dragging the characters and us into a chilling, sobering low.

We just left off Sick of Running on a triumphant note. Ajax, fresh off advice from the Hurricanes, finally rallies the girls to fight back against the Furies, who’ve been pushing them to the brink. It’s this powerful, adrenaline-fueled moment that feels almost like a win. But just as we’re feeling that rush, The Park at Night drops us straight into a scene that feels like someone cut the lights in an alley.

The tone shifts immediately, with Mexican indie artist Elain’s haunting sample—“Folks go missin' in the park at night”—whispering through the track, setting an eerie, predatory vibe. It’s as if the girls are being watched, hunted, and in this fog of tension, we meet Barnes.

Barnes is played by James Rainer, the original Ajax from the 1979 Warriors film, and here’s where the casting choice really lands. The original Ajax was a vicious character, driven by toxic masculinity and a hunger for power. He’s homophobic, sexist, and would rather use strength to bully than find any real connection. Barnes inherits all of these traits. If you’ve never seen the original, you’d just think he’s a sleazy cop. But for those in the know, there’s a dark irony in Rainer’s casting, like Barnes is a shadow of his former self, or maybe an Ajax in a system that empowers his worst traits.

The timing couldn’t be worse. The Warriors have been through a nightmarish journey already, chased, ambushed, and betrayed by gangs across the city. They’ve likely lost Cleon, their leader, and with it, a sense of safety. So, when Barnes sees Ajax and reduces her to a “sex worker,” it’s not just creepy—it’s an abuse of power, this cop using his authority to exploit vulnerability. It’s heartbreaking.

And let’s talk about Ajax’s reaction. She’s not about to let this pervert slide. After everything she and her friends have endured, Ajax snaps and unleashes all her pent-up fury. This moment is raw and heartbreaking because it’s not just about Barnes; it’s about every man and gang that’s used and abused her and her friends. But Barnes, clutching his badge like a shield, retaliates by arresting her—not because she did anything illegal, but because he can. In this moment, Barnes embodies a brutal reality: men in power often get away with preying on those they deem “lesser.”

And, honestly, the symbolism here is haunting. Barnes calls in backup to hunt down the rest of the Warriors, making these taunting catcalls, even echoing the sound of a police siren. It’s both a literal threat and a grim commentary on how those in power dehumanize and hunt down anyone who doesn’t “belong.” It’s unsettling, especially when you consider that Ajax is a young woman—likely a teenager—which makes Barnes’ actions even creepier. He’s not just harassing her; he’s flaunting that no one will stop him.

As pointed out by @Genzwriter on The Warriors Album Reddit, this scene is a searing critique of how sex workers are brutalized by cops who see them as disposable. Barnes doesn’t see Ajax as a person or even a gang member; he sees a powerless girl he can intimidate. And Ajax? She’s rightfully enraged, and she’s finally done being quiet. But, of course, her fight back is met with punishment, as Barnes flexes his badge and power to silence her.

What’s amazing, though, is that Ajax gets the final word. Despite being overwhelmed, she declares herself a Warrior—a small act of defiance, but one that ripples out to inspire Fox later on in Reunion Square.

The Park at Night is a brilliant example of Lin-Manuel Miranda and Eisa Davis bringing their unique strengths together. Lin, with his deep love and understanding of The Warriors, uses the original Ajax’s character to reinforce this nightmarish descent for the group. It’s a painful homage, but one that works. And then Eisa’s contribution adds a whole new layer—the way she infuses this number with an authentic, powerful female perspective that wouldn’t have hit the same if this story was solely told by a man.

And then there’s the bleak reality of Barnes. He isn’t punished. There’s no justice served, no moment of reckoning. He walks away unscathed, and that’s so infuriating. The album doesn’t fault Ajax for her choice to lash out—she did what any of us would do after being pushed to the edge. But the reality remains: cops like Barnes are empowered to hurt the vulnerable without consequence, a message that lands painfully close to home.

The Park at Night is dark, relentless, and all the more powerful for it. It doesn’t pull punches, and it doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, it shows us the breaking point for Ajax and her friends, and while it’s a bitter scene, it’s one of the album’s strongest. This song hits hard because it shows that sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, the system will do everything in its power to break you down.

[mcleantriestowrite]

Bad Idea - Pt 2

Synopsis: Your step-brother is in debt to Rafe Cameron. Knowing he won’t be able to pay Rafe back, you step up. What a bad idea.

18+

Series content warning –  swearing, slow burn, depictions of aggression, jealousy, drug usage, violence, underage drinking, smut

Chapter content warning – mentions of drug usage, violence, aggression, underage drinking

pt 1

***

The Wreck was generally always slammed. It was reliable work and the owners were nice enough to guarantee you shifts when you were home from college. You never seemed to have a moment to relax on your shifts due to how busy it was.

Except for today.

Of all days, of course today was the one day it was slower than normal. Why wouldn’t it be? Obviously, life had it out for you. 

It was so slow that your friends were able to come visit you at work. Even crazier, you had time to actually sit down and talk to them.

“I say you shouldn’t bail Carson out.” Lacey shrugged. “He’s always pulling you into shit.”

“You didn’t see him.” You shook your head at her. “It was really bad. I think his nose might be broken.”

Caroline took another fry from their shared plate before saying, “I’m with Lacey. Remember when he threw that party in high school and was ‘too hung over’ to clean up? You spent, like, the whole day cleaning so that he wouldn’t get caught.”

Lacey snorted and dipped her fry in ketchup. “Which time?”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s family.”

“He’s your step-brother.” Lacey deadpanned.

Caroline lightly nudged her. “Chill.”

“I’m just saying.” Lacey held her hands up in defense. “You didn’t know him like 3 years ago.”

“I didn’t know you back then either.” You pointed out. “I would do this for you guys, too.”

Lacey and Caroline were among the first friends that you met when you transferred to the private school. Your friendship with them solidified when all three of you decided to go to the same college. Lacey and Caroline were roommates.

“Oh shit,” Lacey laughed. She looked past you towards the entrance then back at you. “Guess who just showed up.”

Your first instinct told you that it was Carson, but when you turned your head you were met with an intimidating set of blue eyes. You immediately slid down in the booth hoping that he wouldn’t notice you yet.

“Maybe he’s just here for food.” Caroline suggested.

“Yeah, for sure.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m sure him showing up to my place of work within the last hour of us being open has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I owe him money.”

“Sorry for being optimistic,” Caroline mumbled.

You groaned, bringing both hands up to rub your face. “I thought he was gonna show up to my house again after my shift. I didn’t think he’d come here.” Though, you had no idea why you never considered this possibility.

“Maybe he was excited to see you.” Lacey teased. She laughed a bit. “He just couldn’t wait.”

You couldn’t help but crack a grin at Lacey’s joke. “No one can resist my charm.”

You felt yourself tense up when you saw the host approaching you with an apologetic look on her face.

“Hey, sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but you just got seated.” She told you. 

You sighed and nodded your head. “Thanks, Elliot.” When the girl left, you turned to your friends. “I’m assuming he’s going to wait until the end of my shift when I get paid. You guys can go ahead and leave. I’ll meet y’all the Boneyard later.”

Caroline looked at you with a small frown on her face. “Are you sure? I wanted us all to ride together.”

You smiled at her. You appreciated that she was hesitant about going without you.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’d have to shower anyway. I don’t wanna make y’all wait on me.” You reassured her. “If you guys want, you can uber there and I can still DD on the way home.”

Lacey tapped her rings against the plastic cup. “Maybe Noah could take us.” She suggested. “That way we wouldn’t have to pay for an Uber.”

You stood up from the table, picking up your notepad and pen. “Sure, if you can convince him.” 

In the 8 months you had been dating Noah, he only attempted to DD once. That attempt ended in you forcing him to leave his truck at the bar due to the several beers he had ended up having.

Lacey smiled at you, “Great.”

As your friends left, you turned to where Rafe was sitting. You felt dread settling into the pit of you stomach. He hadn’t seen you yet, since he was on his phone. You tried to remind yourself of Caroline’s optimism. Maybe he did actually want to eat something. 

Doubtful. But it was a possibility.

You forced a polite smile on your face and walked to Rafe’s table.

“Hey, Rafe.” You greeted. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Rafe looked up at you, studying your face. You did your best not to let your smile falter. He watched you for an awkwardly long period of time. You began to shift uncomfortably on your feet.

“I can give you a minute if you want.” You offered.

“Do you honestly think I’m here for food?” Rafe asked.

You clicked your pen closed and dropped your arms in an exasperated manner. All pretenses of being polite were immediately dropped.

“I don’t know, Rafe.” You sighed. “I’m trying not to make any assumptions about your character.”

He slightly narrowed his eyes at you. “And what assumptions do you already have about ‘my character’?”

Jackass. Womanizer. Jerk. Spoiled. Dick–

“I try not to judge people before I know them.” You settled with.

He let out an amused chuckle. “Right.’

“If you’re here for my money you’re gonna have to wait.“ You told him. “I probably won’t be able to leave for another hour and a half. You might as well get something to eat before the kitchen closes.”

Rafe leaned his head back, scratching his neck like he was annoyed at the whole situation.

“I’ll just take some fries then.”

You blinked, not actually expecting him to get anything. You half expected him to make some comment about waiting for you at your house or outside or something.

“Oh. Sure.” You quickly scribbled it down to give to the kitchen.

“And I’m not tipping you.”

This time you did roll your eyes. “I assumed.” You clicked your pen closed and walked to the kitchen.

Fries were normally ready pretty much every moment of the day due to the popularity of it. You got them within 30 seconds of asking one of the line cooks. You could go back and give Rafe his fries quickly.

Or you could make him wait. 

You slowly smiled to yourself, thinking about it.

You weren’t going to make him wait too long in reality. The kitchen was hot and the cooks were cranky, so you didn’t want to be back there. You were also still a little scared of Rafe. Not a lot, but enough to where you didn’t want to piss him off too much. But the few extra minutes of defiance for some reason felt so good.

You came back out to Rafe, placing his plate and water on the table. He picked up a fry, inspecting it.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Making sure you didn’t spit in my food.”

You crossed your arms, offended. “I wouldn’t do that.” You scoffed, then added, “And that’d be obvious on fries. If I wanted my spit to go unnoticed then I would’ve done it in your water.” You tapped your temple a couple times. “You gotta think about these things.”

Rafe looked at you skeptically. “Did you spit in my water?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Rafe rolled his eyes in response before eating another fry. 

The rest of your shift dragged on. Eventually, Rafe moved to wait on the bench just outside the entrance. You were grateful that you didn’t have to delay any of your closing responsibilities for him. 

After tipping out the bar, the kitchen, and the host, you had nearly $250 that you were able to give Rafe in addition to the $350 you had from the day prior. There was a very small amount you were allowing to keep for yourself, but he didn’t need to know that.

You frowned as you looked around the restaurant, wishing there was something else you could do to stall the inevitable. Sighing, you told the bar a quick “goodnight” and went outside to meet Rafe.

Irritatingly, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. He continued to text on his phone. You held out the money in front of his screen wordlessly to get his attention. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Rafe drawled.

You opened your mouth to give a snarky reply, but you held back. You just wanted to be done for the day. Giving a tight lipped smile, you spun on your heel to leave.

“Hold up.” His words made you pause in step.

You shut your eyes in frustration when you heard him start counting the money to himself. You turned around to face him again.

“This isn’t even $600. Where’s the rest?”

“I’m working again Wednesday. I can pay you whatever’s left then.”

Rafe shook his head, laughing. “That wasn’t the deal.”

You crossed your arms, feeling anger bubble in your chest. Technically, you didn’t owe Rafe anything. This wasn’t your debt to pay. Rafe was only getting the money from you because obviously he wasn’t going to get it from your step-brother. 

There was an extra $20 you could give him, but it was the principle that made you not want to. You knew you should keep quiet, or maybe even apologize, but you always had a thing with anger. After all, you were your father’s daughter.

“We never had a deal. Maybe if you did something better with your life besides dealing drugs then you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.”

Rafe’s face went blank for a moment. It was a terrifying neutral that should’ve been your hint to start running, but you knew from experience that running from someone’s anger would only make it worse. You tried to keep your face passive, but you couldn’t help but to take a step back when Rafe stood up to tower over you. You stared at his chest not wanting to meet his eye.

“You wanna try saying some shit again?” He asked. You clenched your jaw and continued to stare straight at his chest. “Huh? You want me to get the rest from your brother?” Rafe pressed.

“I don’t have anything else. I can get you the rest Wednesday.”

“I’m not waiting until Wednesday.”

God, he was so impatient. You’d think someone like him would be fine waiting a few days for $150. It was almost like he actually needed the money.

You blinked, the sudden realization crashing down on you.

Did Rafe need the money?

If you basically shamed him for sounding desperate, would he back down? Your heart sped up as you contemplated trying out your theory. You swallowed nervously before speaking.

“I mean, if you really need the money, I can check my car to see if I have any extra lying around.” You tried your best to keep your tone as innocent as possible.

Rafe narrowed his eyes at you. “I don’t need anything, pogue.”

You felt a little more confident, feeling as if your plan was working. “Sorry,” you said. “Just trying to be nice.”

Rafe stared at you for a long, lingering moment. For a second, you were scared he would hear how loud your heart was beating. 

You began to wonder if you had pushed your luck too much tonight. What if he ended up taking his anger out on Carson?

The silence was loud, the way he was watching you was even louder. After those deafening few minutes, Rafe left without another word.

You let out a loud breath you didn’t realize had been holding.

***

“There she is!” Noah cheered with a slurred voiced.

The Boneyard was in full swing by the time you had showered, gotten dressed, and driven over. Carson was at the house and there was no sign that Rafe had been there to harass him, so you considered your earlier interaction with the kook king a small victory.

You laughed at the way Noah was swaying a bit. “Yeah – you’re welcome.” You joked. “The party can officially start now.”

“Noah–” Lacey stumbled up to you and your boyfriend with a wide grin. Her smile slightly faltered when she saw you. “Oh, you’re here! I was just about to ask Noah where you were.”

“I’m here.” You smiled. “I like your top.”

“Thanks.” Was all she said in return. You had expected her to start talking about where she had gotten it from. She loved talking about that kind of stuff. Instead, the three of you stood in silence. You weren’t sure why, but you began slowly nodding your head.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” You announced. “I’ll be right back.” You just wanted to rid yourself of the awkward atmosphere.

You greeted a few people on the way to the cooler you spotted upon arrival. You grabbed one of the water bottles for yourself since you knew you were going to be driving everyone home later.

“Hey, pogue!”

The familiar voice made you tense up, and you felt torn between rolling your eyes and shooting him your middle finger, or leaving the Boneyard all together to avoid confrontation. Unfortunately, your indecision gave Rafe enough time to catch up to you.

God, you just couldn’t get rid of this guy.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Big word,” You mumbled low enough so that he wouldn’t hear.

“You still owe me $150, yeah?”

You didn’t really want to answer him. He already knew this. You eyed him warily.

“You’ll get the rest on Wednesday–”

“Here’s the deal,” Rafe interrupted. “I’m not waiting that long.”

You crossed your arms, shrugging. “Well, I can’t get you any more money until then, and my brother definitely can’t. So…” You trailed off.

“So,” Rafe began. “That’s where my proposition comes in.”

You continued to eye him, hesitantly. You weren’t sure where he was going with this. 

Rafe continued, “There’s a party tomorrow night. If you show up and help promote the shit I’m selling, I won’t go after your brother for you not paying me the rest tonight.”

You stayed silent and tried your best to ignore the protest that was forming in your mouth.

This wasn’t fair. But he knew that. He knew it wasn’t fair — that this wasn’t even your debt to pay. Rafe just didn’t care.

“I don’t want to help you sell drugs–” You tried to say.

“You’re being dramatic.” He scoffed. “All you’d need to do is tell people where I am and what I have.”

“I really don’t want to be involved in that.”

“You’re already involved.”

“Rafe–”

“Everything good over here?”

Both you and Rafe turned your heads to see Noah quickly approaching. He had a hardened expression on his face. He made direct eye contact with you. “Is he bothering you?”

“None of your concern, Williams.” Rafe waved him off.

You eyes flickered between Noah and Rafe, concerned about where this was headed. Noah was obviously wasted already. He was always a tad on the aggressive side when drinking. Rafe was…Rafe. This could end very badly very fast.

“Nah, I think it is my concern, man.” Noah began to invade Rafe’s personal space. “Since I heard you’ve been harassing my girlfriend.”

Briefly, you wondered who had filled him in on the situation. You hadn’t told him about what happened the night prior.

“Noah, it’s fine.” You told him. “Let’s just go back to everyone else.” You lightly took hold of Noah’s arm to lead him away.

“Yeah, Noah.” Rafe grinned mockingly. “We’re good.”

You shut your eyes in annoyance. Rafe’s condescending attitude wasn’t helping anything. Without a second thought, Noah ripped his arm out of your grip.

“Oh, we’re good?” Noah stepped up to Rafe again.

“Noah–” You tried to protest.

“Yeah,” Rafe antagonized. He nodded over at you. “Your girlfriend thinks we’re good.” Noah clenched his jaw at the comment.

You rolled your eyes at the comment. “Stop trying to instigate. You’re really bad at it.” He was actually good at it, but you wanted to get under his skin. “Noah, let’s go.”

Noah continued to glare at Rafe, but when you tugged at his arm, Noah began to leave with you.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Rafe called out at the two of you. “Follow her like a bitch!”

Noah ripped away from you faster than you could process.

“Hey–”! You started to protest.

Your yell cut out with a startled gasp when Noah swung at Rafe. You stumbled back, not wanting to be in the area of impact.

A crowd started forming quickly from the commotion. Caroline caught up to you fast.

“What happened?” She rushed out.

An irritated expression formed on your face remembering the events leading up to this. You kissed your teeth. “Testosterone.” You tore your eyes away from the boys to look at your friend. “Where’s Lacey?”

“She went to get her sweatshirt out of Noah’s car.” Caroline told her. They both flinched when Rafe tackled Noah to the ground. Now on top of him, Rafe began punching Noah in the face with an open fist.

You looked around at everyone who was either egging on the fight or filming. Some were doing both.

“Is no one gonna do anything?” You asked, exasperated.

Caroline scoffed. “You mean, is anyone going to get involved in a fight with Rafe Cameron?” She threw back at you.

You grimaced as the fight moved towards the water. You began to take a step forward, but Caroline shot her hand out to stop you. “Terrible idea – truly.”

Noah suddenly broke himself free of Rafe’s hold. “What’s up, Cameron? Your daddy’s passing you over as president so now you’re acting out?” He taunted. “Is that it?”

Your eyes widened at Noah. He was definitely only making the situation worse.

Rafe lunged at Noah again, gripping his shirt in tight hold. He shoved Noah to the ground before slamming his fist in your boyfriend’s face over and over. Your breath hitched in your throat, you felt your nerves seeping into your lungs. This was going from bad to worse.

Lacey ran up to you and Caroline. “What happened?!” She exclaimed. “I left for literally five minutes!”

“What do we do?” Caroline panicked.

You brought both hands up to your face and ran them over the top of your head. You didn’t know what you were going to do. You had pulled Noah out of dumb bar fights before, but none of them were as bad as this one.

You tried your best to focus, but your head was going fuzzy. Noah’s movements became slower, filling you with dread. For a moment, you were legitimately worried that Rafe would kill him.

“Hey, Rafe! You did enough!” You recognized one of Rafe’s friends push forward from the crowd. “Hey – chill out!” His friend got a hold of Rafe. He must’ve been severely out of it. Rafe nearly swung at him.

“Stay out of this, Top!” He shoved his friend back.

Suddenly the sounds of the crowd were broken up by the louder sounds of sirens.

“The cops are here!” You heard someone yell. More people began to yell out the arrival the police.

You used the opportunity to rush over to your boyfriend.

“Noah?” You crouched to your knees so that you could get a better look at him. Noah slowly blinked his eyes, but didn’t address you. His face was nearly unrecognizable. Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Noah!” You raised your voice to get his attention. “Can you hear me?

He still wasn’t answering, no matter how much you pleaded. You cursed under your breath. You took his arm and slung it over your shoulder to try and pull him up, but he was too heavy for you.

“Hey, hey. Let me help.” You looked up to see a guy that you recognized from the private school. He got on the other side of Noah and helped you lift him up.

“Thank you,” You breathed out.

“Don’t mention it.” He grunted out.

“Lacey, do you still have his keys?” You asked as you approached your friends again.

“Yeah, I got ‘em.” Her voice was panicked. “Is he okay?”

“Can you unlock his car and push down the back seats? We’re gonna need to lay him down.”

Lacey shot you and Noah one more worried look before sprinting to where the car was parked.

You weren’t sure how long it took you to get Noah to his car, but you were scared out of your mind the whole time. Caroline opened the door to the backset and you laid him down with the help of the guy from high school.

You closed the door on him and ran to the drivers seat. You were going to have to leave your car here and hope for the best.

“I’m gonna have to take him back to mine.” You didn’t really say to anyone specific. You just felt like you needed to talk or you would start spiraling. “His parents can’t see him like this.”

“We can stay over, too.” Lacey offered.

You didn’t say anything in response, you only started the engine. You looked ahead down the street to see everyone running to their cars or into the nearby trees. You paused on the one person looking your way.

That pair of intimidating eyes you never could escape was holding you ransom.