#bc that’s the one that did it this time

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could���ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[coffee-and-geto]

LET ME WARM YOU UP

summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?

cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).

wc: 721

When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.

Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.

“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”

Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?

Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.

The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.

“Will that be all, young man?”

Satoru nods.

“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”

A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”

Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.

He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.

With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.

“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.

You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.

“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.

“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”

He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.

Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.

Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.

“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.

“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”

“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”

Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.

a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

[lizardsfromspace]

I've looped around from finding the belief that The Wizard of Oz was "the first color film" or "first technicolor film" understandable if wrong to finding it deeply annoying

Like. I get how it feels true - how the transition from sepia to technicolor in the film feels epochal, and how it's a springboard to people imagining how AMAZING and how AWESTRUCK audiences must've been at the time, but it just isn't the case, and no one in 1939 would've thought it was the first color film.

I mean, you've probably seen Snow White (1937) and Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). At the time color features were becoming more common, and they had been common in cartoons and shorts for years.

On a base level, if The Wizard of Oz was such a monumental moment in film history, giving people something they've never seen before, why did it only break even at the box office? By all accounts while not a flop it did decently but not great, and it only became a Cherished Classic thanks to TV airings later on. I mean, 1939 saw what is still, if adjusted for inflation, the highest grossing film ever made, and it wasn't The Wizard of Oz

Here is the actual history of color: most silent films were tinted, most commonly with different scenes being all tinted different colors, but more rarely hand-coloring. But back then people started experimenting with many different "true" color film systems, most of which failed for one reason or another, and there were a couple silent features made in two-strip technicolor, which had a more limited palette. At the start of the sound era, some black & white scenes would have color segments; this stage has been largely forgotten bc in many cases, the color segments don't survive & we only have them in black and white. Then three-strip technicolor began and became the dominant form of color until the late 1950s, with the first full-length three-strip technicolor film being 1935's classic...Becky Sharp. Which did decently, and got one Oscar nom for Best Actress, but didn't really become a classic. And then color films became more common until they became the norm in the 1960s

But it has to be a classic, right? It can't just be some random movie that ushered in technicolor. It has to be a famous movie everyone's heard of. It can't have been a gradual process touched by many individual artists, it has to be something one Great Man ushered in overnight, and the crowds were amazed, bc they had just been waiting for someone to Do Color Film so they could ditch black & white forever. It couldn't have been the case that they rejected many previous attempts at color film bc they sucked. Nothing can ever be the result of many people making many choices in many works of art, it has to be the work of one Great Work of Art that Changed Everything Instantly, and all the little people and failed experiments and less-enduring ones just have to be erased to make way

But it isn't. The transition from sepia to color in The Wizard of Oz did dazzle audiences, and still does, but that's because it's a incredibly well-done visual effect and a creative choice within the story to show the change from Kansas to Oz. We don't have to say it was important bc it was the first to do something technologically; it can be important for just being a really good movie

[ultraericthered]

#i got to screen Wish before it released during a school trip and let me tell you something #even though we noticed the glaring problems with that movie immediately #i also noticed something i dont think many others did at that time #there was so much talent and potential being held back. if you read closely you can pick up on a cry for help from the creatives behind it #i want to elaborate but i think if you know. you know #and if you don't.. this post does a good job of shining a light on a small part of that cry for you #despite its many issues i think i still liked Wish. Not because i think it was a good movie but bc i think it could have been a great one had circumstances been different. #my heart goes out to those who put their souls and everything they had into that movie and others in similar situations #some of the creators had given a small talk before the screening and to me they seemed very emotional about it #i think what many people forget is that nobody can see a project's flaws better than the people who worked on it #but what they also see and you can't is everything more it was meant to be #please remember that the core of many issues in any project is that the people with the talent often do not have power to call the shots

Yes, all of that. And I find it ironic that the gifed scene is the one that got people saying "Hey, King Magnifico's not really much of a villain, he's got a good point! He's just upholding his part of a social contract with his citizenry and doing what he, as king, needs to do to protect their wishes but also protect Rosas by ruling out granting any wishes that might backfire and have dangerous repercussions for the kingdom and the lives of the people! Asha's just an ignorant spoiled brat for demanding anything more of him! Magnifico Did Nothing Wrong!" So when you take that position on what you're being shown by the story and not scratching the surface to look at what Magnifico is doing in-universe by not giving back the wishes he knows he will not grant and knows the people who gave them to him cannot remember and what the out-of-universe subtext of this is, you're siding with the Disney Corporate Executive Overlords. You're siding with Bob Iger's "they're not being realistic with their expectations" argument. You're siding with Chapek and Iger's practices done under excuses like "It doesn't fit the Disney brand", "mass appeal stories over personal ones", "people don't want to go and pay to see movies with girly princess titles", etc. You're siding with their practices of dumping content straight to streaming (or onto Disney+ not too long after they've hit theaters or TV) even when that actually limits profits that the actual creative teams can make from their own work, of tampering with the artists visions and how the finished product turns out and then punishing those artists if it doesn't turn out well, and of ignoring ideas for original creations in favor of contiunally milking their popular (and profitable) existing IPs. You're siding with people who make up an entire entity that say loudly to the faces of all those who put in the work, the skills, the talent, the passion and dedication to create art and content they feel people deserve to enjoy, in the forms they deserve to enjoy them "I decide what everyone deserves!"

Capitalism errodes into a force for human evil when the people at the top prove susceptible to three things in excess beyond mere greed and self-interest: unchecked power, irresponsibility, and indecency. King Magnifico is allegorical for that evil, with a bit of a communist dictator angle to him too since that's the end point of those exact same excesses and extremes for socialism. He's a major problematic fave for all kinds of reasons, but anyone who wants to tell me he's a good guy can kindly GTFO.

Wish (2023) dir. Fawn Veerasunthorn, Chris Buck

hey do you think the overworked creatives about to go on strike are trying to tell us something

article sources under the cut

Mattson, Kelcie. "How Disney Almost Killed 'Nimona.'" Collider, January 2 2024.

Earl, William. "Shelving Batgirl Was the Right Decision, Says New DC Studios Head Peter Safran: 'It Would Have Hurt DC.'" Variety, January 31 2023

Couch, Aaron. "Warner Bros. Reverses Course on 'Coyote vs. Acme' After Filmmakers Rebel." The Hollywood Reporter, November 13 2023.

Ridgely, Charlie. "Scoob! Sequel Director Revealed Film Was 'Very Close' to Completion Before HBO Max Cancellation." comicbook.com, August 2 2022.

Clark, Travis. "Staffers at the animation studio Blue Sky say it's 'heartbreaking' that Disney canceled its final movie, 'Nimona.'" Business Insider, February 18, 2021.

Harrison, Mark. "Why was the Batgirl movie cancelled?" Yahoo! Entertainment, January 31 2024.

Amidi, Amid. "Warner Bros. Shelves Fully-Completed 'Coyote Vs. Acme' For Tax Write-Off." Cartoon Brew, November 9 2023.

Lee, Alex. "Why Netflix keeps cancelling your favourite shows after two seasons." Wired UK, September 28 2020.

Tyrrell, Gary. "We All Knew It Was Coming." fleen.com, February 10 2021.

"Warner Bros. Reverses Course on ‘Coyote vs. Acme’ After Filmmakers Rebel." see: 3.

Bergeson, Samantha. "Warner Bros. Will Let 'Coyote Vs. Acme' Filmmakers Shop Movie to Other Distributors." IndieWire, November 13 2023.

Strapagiel, Lauren. "Disney's First Feature Animated Movie With Queer Leads May Never Be Released." BuzzfeedNews, February 24 2021.

"We All Knew It Was Coming." see: 9

@/scottderrickson. "I think it’s absolute bullshit that a studio can and does shelve the creative work of hundreds of people for a fucking tax break." Twitter, 10 Nov. 2023, 4:52 p.m..

[fkapommel]

I love seeing tlt fanart where gideon and Harrow have piercings bc its begs the q - how did they get them? We know harrow has some in her ears that she jams bones into (aka bone gauges). I dont think she would let ANYONE touch her intimately enough to give her piercings as a kid, except maybe her father or mother, esp if it was ritual. Baby nunlet couldve sat in front of a cloudy mirror and done it herself. Gideon, on the other hand?? That bitch is soo touch starved. I can see them as little kids where Gideon asks Harrow to pierce her ears like her parents did hers, one because itd look cool and two bc she'd have Harrows full attention. Getting Harrow excited and disgusted at the same time - being so close to Gideon, touching her, being the source of her pain, exacting pain on a subordinate that she herself suffered. The only real question is: how did their piercings not infect?? Those bitches DO NOT care about germ theory

[sukibenders]

Hear me out: you can ship JayVik without falling into or using rhetoric that fits the disposable black girlfriend trope. You can ship JayVik without using Mel as some conceived ploy or antagonistic plot device that makes her out of character. You can ship JayVik without falling into misogynistic rhetoric (eg. viewing female characters as disposable or stepping tools, amongst other things). You can ship JayVik without erasing the impact Mel has had on Jayce and their relationship because, whether you shipped it or not or even gave it the time of day, Mel and Jayce did care for each other, and to deny that or say Viktor held more importance/impact than her in Jayce's life to where she's viewed as "unnecessary" just to further your ship is so wrong and, whether you intended for it or not, does carry undertones where black characters, especially black female characters, emotional impact on others is ignored or downplayed even though there's context to support just how important it is/they are. Lastly, you can ship JayVik without using anti-black and misogynoir type rhetoric because the amount that has flooded this fandom, but especially from some fans of this ship, is atrocious. Ship what you like, but be respectful and careful with certain things you say, is all I'm saying.

[shouyuus]

okay so what about vi as a parent…

send me vi thirsts and i'll give u my hand in marriage

OKAYYYYYYYY LOOK. we are tryna hURT today huh. no alright tho like it would depend on the kid. i deeply believe that vi as a girl!mom vs a boy!mom would be SO dif. (girl!mom vi under the cut)

bc like consider. boy!mom vi - always down to toss a ball around, always down to play wrestle and get down and dirty, gets too carried away playing all the time, youve DEF come home to the house just like an absolute WRECK of feathers and cut up paper and like the bedsheets stripped and flung over the dining chairs, ur son standing on top of the dining table as vi pretends to be "breaching the fortress" and they both freeze when you clear ur throat like "uhm... what's this now?"

vi looks at you with those big athena eyes of hers like "oH! welcome back baby! uh this is --" and ur son leaps down and throws himself at ur waist like, "momma said that if we take the bedsheets we can make a castle and a mote!" and vi glares but withers a little when you hitch an eyebrow in her direction "she DID, did she?"

"she also said that REAL knights definitely use rolling pins as -"

"OKAY kiddo -- ahaha, what did i say about spilling national secrets hm?"

ur son just looks confused for a second, swinging off your arm, "but -- but you said mummy's the princess and all this is for her!"

vi sputters for a solid three seconds before sighing and you laugh, picking up your son and pressing a kiss to his cheek, "aww, so this is all for me?" he giggles, nodding, throwing his arms around your neck.

vi chuckles, looking sheepish and rubbing the back of her neck.

"yep!" your son pulls back with a bright grin, "momma said that because we both love you most, we have to protect you with all our mights!"

you laugh, softening as you put your son down. "she said that, did she?" he nods fervently even as vi groans, running a hand over her face, her cheeks a deep maroon.

"well, since you both love me so much -- you wouldn't mind helping clean up the castle before the evening feast, would you?"

"feast?" they both look up, eyes bright.

you hold up the large bag of takeout and they both whoop, vi tugging you in for a long kiss, laughing when she pulls away.

"y'know. you really are... everything."

---

BUT NOW CONSIDER. girl!mom vi. who would be sweetest, most protective, bc you've seen her as a big sister to basically all the kids in zaun, and her own daughter???? she'd do anything for her. to the point where you sometimes have to remind her not to be too much, to let your daughter stumble sometimes, to make mistakes bc that's how you learn.

"but -- god. i'm just so terrified --"

"yeah, welcome to being a parent," you say, nosing into her cheek one night as you watch your daughter sleep, curled up on the bed between the pair of you, snoring slightly as she sleeps.

vi reaches down to run a hand through her hair, curling a strand around a finger, her eyes so soft it almost breaks your heart.

"yeah i know but..." vi's voice is tender, " thought having a little sister was bad..."

you laugh softly, pressing a kiss to vi's cheek.

"let's not jinx this."

vi's lips twitch, but her gaze stays warm. she pulls you into her side.

"you're gonna have to tie me up in the basement once she starts dating."

you snort, "tie you up? please. i'll have to call in favors with both jayce and mel -- maybe they've got something stocked up that'll keep you restrained but i know ropes aren't gonna do jack shit."

vi chuckles before her expression changes.

"promise me... things will be okay."

"hey -- look at me." you cup her cheek; she turns, her eyes a thunder-struck sea, the edge of the world on a rainy day.

"it'll be okay," you say, pressing your foreheads.

"thanks, cupcake. i love you."

you smile, tugging vi in for a kiss.

"yeah. i know. i love you too."

[menofprogress]

Jayvik things that make me insane:

The fact that viktor kept the blanket until the end. Buddy. Idk what you think getting rid of your emotions looks like, but it sure as hell isnt THAT. What an insane character design decision

Like oh my god, he NEVER took it off. Platonic my entire ass.

Viktor is wearing a shirt directly after the explosion, but hes only wearing his brace when jayce is carrying him to the lab. Did jayce try to perform cpr? Did he try to look for injuries? Is viktor even ALIVE when hes carrying him?

During one if the hexcore "x ray shots" you can see that viktor's spine was fully severed. He got HIT.

How long did he try cpr before he realised he needed a miracle for Viktor to survive?

Why wasnt Viktor taken to a hospital? Maybe Jayce didnt trust anyone else to touch him or maybe they didnt bother taking him to the hospital bc he was too far gone already?

The decision to parallel the meljay love scene with viktor rejecting a potential love interest and then nearly dying is WILD. Showing that Mel woke up alone bc jayce rushed to Viktor's side is WILD.

The show constantly making it clear how important viktor is to jayce, like not even as a dig towards mel or anything, but viktor is his BEST FRIEND. Where did all that fanon about jayce abandoning viktor come from bc it sure as hell didnt come from canon.

Literally viktor can do no wrong in jayces eyes, blud starts a mindcontrolling cult and jayce is like "i still love you baby". Viktor pouting to get his way and jayce folding every time is canon to me.

He made sure to include viktor and he would be so mad that the hexgates are only credited to him after their deaths

Viktor put on a brave and reserved face, but he was so insecure about his place in the world and next to jayce, maybe because of his disabilities, maybe because hes from zaun, but it never, never mattered to jayce and he takes such care to reassure viktor, remind him of his place by his side and hes fully aware of the difficulties viktor faces. Aside from the one dumbass slip up on the bridge ofc lol

Viktor may be insecure about his body and his standing, but that doesnt stop him from being a catty bitch tho lol

The fact that jayce knows viktors 'oasis' hideout. Did viktor tell him, did he follow him once? And he can apparently immediately deduce 'oh, something upsetting happened to viktor, im gonna need to check up on him'

During the forehead touching, disintegration scene you can see that jayce is visibly straining, either terrified or in pain, but he refuses to let go of viktor. And when we finally see viktor reciprocating touch its to comfort jayce by stroking his arm

[ddejavvu]

venom and eddie trying to surprise reader with a present/party but it goes to shit bc venom cant keep a secret from the reader <33 🧸

A sticky black tendril holding the door shut would have sufficed, but Venom decides to accompany that with a startling roar of, 'No!' that effectively stops you from trying to grab the vaccuum.

"Venom..." You stand in front of the closet, though your head is turned now to face the symbiote desperately trying to shrink back into Eddie's flesh as if you'll forget he existed, "What's in the closet?"

"Nothing's in the closet," Eddie hums casually, still stationed at the stove like the windows hadn't just rattled with venom's shout, "Just the vacuum, but it's broken so don't bother trying to use it."

"Well maybe I can fix it," You start for the closet again, only to be stopped again, this time restrained by venom's tentacle.

"Hey! Get off of me," You struggle against the symbiote to no avail, and before long he has you completely bound in a blanketing of stickiness. It clings to your skin and makes it crawl, but no matter how hard you fight, you can't free yourself.

"Venom- Venom! Let me go," You cry, "I just want to vacuum!"

"I cannot let you in the closet." Venom soothes you, his voice pitched low and smooth because he knows it helps you calm down, "There is something in there that you cannot see."

"Please don't tell me it's a dead body," You've given up your fight now, going limp in Venom's tight grip. One of the tendrils he's captured you with smooths a stray chunk of hair out of your face where you'd struggled it free.

"It is not a dead body. It is a-"

"Venom! Venom, do not tell her what it is." Eddie breaks his casual facade now, pointing the spatula in his hands aggressively at the symbiote, "I was not kidding. If you spoil this, I'm forcing you out of my body and throwing you to the streets."

"You tried that once," Venom sneers, "It did not work. Y/N, we are not hiding a dead body in the closet. It is your birthday present."

"Shut up! Shut up, stop talking right now," Eddie urges, "Venom, I mean it. Stop talking or I'll kill Sonny and Cher."

Venom's wide, milky, blinking eyes swivel towards his prized pet chickens, and he goes limp around you, releasing his tight grip on your limbs and allowing you the freedom of movement once again. He shrinks back into Eddie, effectively chastised, but before he disappears completely, he grumbles, "Don't worry, Y/N. You will find out that it is an ice cream maker soon."

[rainbowberriesandcookies]

"Orihime being afraid of Ichigo's hollow power shows she doesn't fully accept him."

I see this take and similar ones pop up from anti fans of Ichigo and Orihime and try to say that Orihime is bad, in the wrong, etc. for being afraid of his hollowfication powers when her first encounter with a hollow was her brother Sora.

I know the anime did a lot of damage to Orihime's character - especially by taking these scenes out and altering them compared to the manga - but when Ichigo begins to undergo the same process as Sora, it only makes sense that she's afraid.

Not because she's afraid of Ichigo but because what he can become.

And just like Sora said, "It would be [her] fault"

Also - this is to counter the whole "Ichigo and Orihime were never close/barely friends/just acquaintances" that I see floating around often too.

But all in all - Orihime was never afraid of Ichigo. She was afraid of what he could have become.

As Acidwire, Sora targeted Orihime because of her growing bonds with Tatsuki and Ichigo. He even says that he attacked them because they tried to tear him and Orihime apart and that she already knew why.

For clarity - what I'm about to say isn't me saying that Sora was abusive in life and I'm going to specifically try to use his name as a hollow "Acidwire" as much as possible to express the slight separation between Sora as he was while he was alive and Sora as he was when he became Acidwire.

Especially since early on, it established that hollows - while they were once former humans - often end up being twisted versions of the people they once were.

Now onto the point -

The "You already know why" isn't dissimilar from how abusers, manipulators, etc. often talk to their victims when they're angry or upset. It's similar to the silent treatment in a way where it implies that the victim intentionally made the abuser upset.

He references her prayers for him every day helped ease his own suffering before she became friends with Tatsuki and entered high school before she stopped praying for him altogether. He then says how it hurt him that when she got home, all she would talk about was Ichigo.

For one - the fact that Acidwire knows this proves that Ichigo and Orihime were at least already friends by the time the manga started. In contrast to the anime where Ichigo outright says to Rukia that they've "never had a real conversation"

Anyways - this here in and of itself proves Ichigo and Orihime at least knew each other beyond just acquaintances - because they were close enough for Acidwire to notice and be hurt by it.

She tries to defend herself but he cuts her off before attacking Ichigo again

Acidwire tells her to come with him back to when it was just the two of them. In the context of the story, this would basically be him killing her.

However, this is also a tactic abusers use known as isolation.

When she questions why she should go with him and why he'd hurt Ichigo and Tatsuki before saying that the brother she loved would have never done anything like this.

I feel like in the anime, it kinda breezed by these moments which are honestly heartbreaking in hindsight and key for the leadup to why Orihime was afraid when Ichigo would use his hollow mask.

but Acidwire's response to her refusal and saying that the brother she loved would never do this is to not just harm her, but blame her and say that he is going to kill her.

In the time that she's become friends with Ichigo and Tatsuki and slowly grew happier, Acidwire blamed her for his own despair and sadness.

The kind, loving older brother that she had always known became a monster that would kill her and everyone close to her, and it would be her fault that he did because she stopped praying for him.

Here, it shows how Acidwire views Orihime not as a person who should live her own fulfilling life, but as an object who should live for him because he gave up his entire life to raise and protect her.

Once again, not to say that Sora was an abuser or abusive person, but this line of logic is the same one that abusive and toxic parents often use when it comes to emotionally abusing their children. Saying how the sacrificed so much for their children to control how their children live their own lives when the child never asked to be born. Similarly, Orihime didn't ask to be born or ask for Sora to raise her.

Sora did because that's the kind of person that he is, but Acidwire turns these loving traits of Sora's into a manifestation of abuse.

And even though she has nothing to be sorry for... She apologizes to Acidwire because that's the kind of person she is.

It also shows how she puts on a smile so that way others don't have to worry about her. She didn't want Sora to think that she was sad and hurting, she didn't want him to worry about her so she buried and hid her own sadness.

She apologizes to Acidwire for making him sad and (in what she thinks are probably her last moments) says that she loves him and that she didn't mean to hurt him.

As he's slowly regaining himself, Sora admits that he already knew that Orihime was just trying to shield her sadness from him but still wanted her to pray for him because it was only in those moments that her heart was his.

Ichigo then tells him that it's the same, those who die and those who survive are just as sad as the other.

It's in this moment Sora had fully regained himself, enough to know that he couldn't stay in a form like this or else he'd come to hurt Orihime again. If he killed the little sister that he raised like a daughter over his own heartache, would he have been any better than their own abusive parents?

And finally, the two get to say goodbye properly.

Also - a side note - a lot of people criticize Orihime's passive nature and how she never seems to fight or argue with anyone but it's because the one time that she did have a fight with someone, they died and became a monster.

This entire sequence emphasizes why Orihime always tries to reach out to others in need and never argues or fights. She doesn't want her friends or even strangers, to become like how Sora became Acidwire.

Now, Rukia had changed/erased Orihime's memories following this event but it likely didn't work as intended since during the Rukia rescue arc, Orihime mentions that she's been able to see hollows and spirits ever since the encounter with Acidwire.

Now let's go ahead and jump ahead to VL Ichigo -

Going to Hueco Mundo - Ichigo already knew without having to be told or convinced by anyone that Orihime was in danger. Aizen did his best to make it look like Orihime was a traitor to the Soul Society and Ichigo never bought it

It's being put in plainer and plainer terms that Ichigo transformed as a response to Orihime's call for help.

Even if you want to argue that there was a mistranslation or that Ichigo doesn't directly reference Orihime, even if you remove all of the text the sequence of events goes

Orihime's cries

Ichigo began to move and get up - functionally coming back from being dead

Once again, even if you want to remove the text avoid arguing about whether or not it was properly translated - nevermind the fact that in Japanese pronouns are often omitted and there is a big assumption to just know who/what you are talking about -

Even without text, the images show Orihime crying, and Ichigo beginning to come back to life.

Both she and Ulquiorra question whether that is Ichigo

Now that said, I think that Ichigo vs Ulquiorra is one of the most brutal and best fights in the series. Both Uryu and Orihime know that this isn't Ichigo.

Yet remember how it is established that hollows often become twisted versions of the people they once were? This is a power that Ichigo can't control and yet uses it to protect the person who called out to him.

While I don't disagree with the notion that this is also White protecting Ichigo, it doesn't change the fact that Kubo intentionally drew Orihime and Ichigo rising side by side multiple times. Even without text, Kubo places emphasis on her and her cries for help against VL Ichigo - not White or Zangetsu.

And when Uryu tries to bring him back to his senses what does Ichigo do? Put a sword through him.

Once again, even if you want to remove any and all text, Kubo puts VL Ichigo paneled side by side with Orihime, and when Ichigo comes back to his senses

The first person that he sees is Orihime.

As much as I want, I'll save my yapping about Ulquiorra for a separate time.

But for a moment, even if only briefly, his desires to protect were twisted in a way that hurt those around him, and once again - Orihime was the catalyst.

Ichigo says that he didn't want to win like this - showing that he views fights as something more honorable than what White/VL Ichigo had done. His last memory being that he had a hole put in his chest, also shows that he more or less "blacked out" and had no control over his actions.

What is one of the things established when people become hollows?

That they lose control of themselves and their desires are twisted.

The difference between Ichigo and Acidwire is that Ichigo wants to protect Orihime while Acidwire wanted to own her - which is why Ichigo never directly harms Orihime even as he loses control of himself.

But - all of this yapping is to show how from Orihime's perspective, hollowfication and hollow powers aren't good. They turn people into monsters that hurt their friends and loved ones.

It's also established that Orihime is the type of person who will internalize her own thoughts and feelings (it isn't ""hubris"" as some people call it).

Whether or not you want to argue that it was an assumption that Ichigo became a VL because she cried for help, it doesn't change the fact that she still cried for help and that Ichigo became a hollow/VL.

From her own perspective, she blames herself regardless of whether or not you think that it is an assumption on her part that Ichigo became a VL to protect her.

And after all - why wouldn't she blame herself when her first encounter with a hollow - Acidwire - blamed her for the monster that he became?

I know I skipped over him using his mask in the fight with Grimmjow, but I already yap too much and wanted to try to keep an already long post short(er).

Anyway - all of this illustrates the trauma that Orihime has regarding hollows and hollowfication. It's not truly her fault - yet in both instances she blames herself.

And not just Kubo, but Ichigo himself is fully aware of this.

Which is why when he tells her not to worry and that he's still himself is so important - because it shows that Ichigo has learned to control that side of himself while at the same time, being aware that Orihime is someone who has been traumatized by hollows and hollowfication.

Ultimately - she doesn't want Ichigo to become a monster like Sora. For Ichigo, it's growth in his own ability while for Orihime it's comfort in knowing that Ichigo won't lose himself fighting to protect those he cares about.

In short, she isn't afraid of Ichigo - she was scared of him becoming a monster like Sora had.

[afrodeeziacc]

Lil mini rant.

Warning:

I'm about to use some really harsh language. If it don't apply let it fly bc the only dogs I know hollering are the hit ones.

Honestly and I mean this from the bottom of my heart,

Fuck each and everyone of you fake ass niggas who do this shit. You niggas that do this shit for likes. Fake mourning these entertainers when you were either just hating or just laughing at them like they're not people too. This man posted a video on promotion of a movie he was just in and ALL OF YOU laughed and was talking shit in the comments. It was only a serious handful of people that were honestly concerned. Everytime I see one of these i get pissed bc all i can think about is that moment. Most likely you were the same ones screaming don't recast him in black panther 2 only to get mad and say hell nah when you saw Shuri as the next black panther. Like got damn it don't cost you shit to stand on how you feel. I can respect if you grew up and now you feel remorse about it and it matured you as an adult but yall niggas still be doing the same shit yall did to him and countless others. Honestly fuck you with the dirtiest of dicks in all holes. I don't usually even be on that type of time but I really don't like that shit.

Crazy enough i ain't even the biggest fan of Chadwick. He's been a part of great movies and had always been an essential and memorable addition to whatever I've seen him in. He's never over played or under performed anything that I've seen. But with that said I'm not a guy who really idolized anyone regardless of if they're famous or not. I'm just saying i respect the man bc before he was famous he was A MAN!!! And I just can't sit her and continue on not saying shit while yall use these folks for likes shares and reblogs like they don't deserve this love when they're alive. Yall don't even understand how long love will keep a sick person alive as long as they can nor how bad it feels when you're mocked and made fun of and you can SEE IT EVERYDAY!! THAT MAN WAS DYING WHILE YALL WERE LAUGHING!!! I swear on bro this is why I stay tf to myself.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Sakumo being a super popular borderline sex symbol in his era will never stop being my favorite hc, I need to see more of it

All the people his age and younger had a crush on him. It was just a Thing(tm) where 9 times out of 10, a Konoha shinobi's first crush was probably Sakumo. Even other villages young shinobi hung up his bingo book picture above their bunk and dreamed of both killing him, being killed by him (in a hot way), having a battlefield fling with him, and more. There was blackmarket fanfiction. He was incredibly popular among civilians all over fire country. Some popular romance novels had love interests very blatantly based off him.

Even before they were on a team together, Obito and Rin both had a silly kid crush on Kakashi's dad (Obito more than Rin) and he was aware of it. This did not help make him like them any more. (By the time hearing smthn positive ab his dad would have made Kakashi softer, they'd both gotten better at hiding the crush, so to Kakashi it looked like they'd gotten over Sakumo.) Even Minato had a bit of a thing for him, not really but like— strong, popular, feard and very friendly ninja who is now paying him some attention (bc hes his kids teacher) he's not immune. Kushina understands, she is also not immune. (Kakashi is going to throw a fucking fit)

Even after his failed mission, when his reputation crashes and burns within the village, he still can't completely shake his admirers— they possibly just get more disrespectful ab the attraction when it mixes with the hate. (Which tbh could make for an interesting discussion all on its own)

Kakashi is haunted by his father's insane popularity for decades after his death. He does his very best to ignore the lingering evidence of people being insane ab his father.

One day he realizes one of his favorite romance novels has a romance interest based off Sakumo and has a break down ab it and can never read the series again.

When raiding an old abandoned enemy camp w Team Ro, he finds an old, autographed photo of his dad covered in lipstick marks in the communal bathroom. He chooses to ignore it but it's quickly spotted by his teammates, who do not know who Sakumk is, and v quickly begin to remark on the poster, who this mysterious Konoha nin is, and ahaha damn he is kinda good looking, huh? (Kakashi wants to DIE)

Shisui ends up taking the poster back to Konoha with them and hangs it up in the ANBU communal quarters where it is VERY quickly recognized. And also some of the people in that room recognize it so quick bc they also used to own a similar poster. (Kakashi wants to DIE someone PLEASE kill him now)

Its only when he's given team 7 that he finally thinks he's escaped the legacy of his father as Konoha's Most Sexiest Shinobi. Only for Naruto, when being trained by Jiriyah, to find his drafts for Icha Icha very clearly inspired by his dad. Which he can never publish for multiple reasons (lingering respect for Sakumo. Also for Kakashi, who is his biggest fan and would probably never look at him again.)

Naruto somehow accidentally brings this up with Kakashi who like. Has war flashbacks and immediatley stands up and walks away as Jiryah scrambles to try to explain himself and Tsunade looks on in scorn (she will approach him later to carefully ask for the drafts while trying to seem like she's not really asking for them bc she's too proud to admit it)

Naruto and Sakura discover Kakashi-sensei's dad was a sex symbol. I don't even know how they'd react but like. Oh my god. Oh my god you guys.

Funniest option would be they accidentally revive his popularity a little bit by being so loud ab it they like, remind people ab him. + introduce another generation to the idea of him

Kakashi is crouched on the floor with his face in his hands. When will he be freed from this hell.

Sasuke does not escape tho, he goes to sound and finds a picture of Sensei's dad in Orochimaru's office (???????)

This is such a shitty sketch but the vision:

Itachi, who learned who Sakumo was from that poster thing, goes on to find a photo of him in ""Madara's"" belongings and gets super weirded out but ultimately doesn't. Super care. But also. Like. What. What.

After Itachi finds the photo, which Obito genuinley forgot he fucking had and keeps in part just bc its like one of the only belongings that remained from his Konoha days, he shoves it somewhere in Kamui to forget about.

But then in the Obito vs Kakashi Kamui fight, it fucking flutters down in the middle of the fight and Obito fucking dies of humiliation as Kakashi realizes he will truly Never Escape and that this reality is his own personal hell

Uhh endgame Kakashi becomes Hokage and accidentally retreads his father's path in becoming the new Konoha Sexy Man. Which simultaneously crushes him (he will never escape) and fills him with delight (he will now be able to impart the pain of having your father figure be lusted after by all ur friends and acquaintances onto his students)

[86espresso]

dancing is a dangerous game ⋆.˚ ★—ONE

(au masterlist)

SUM ; he did not 🙅‍♀️ wrap it before he tapped it

WARNINGS ; finding out that you’re pregnant, whole lot of awkward talking bc that’s what I’m best at 👍, mostly humor, zegras is jobless, fluff, oc character (readers bsf), kissing? allusions to sex, drinking, anxiety

NOTES ; first fic we ball 🙂‍↕️

WC ; 2.3k

“Your place, or mine?”

Your place or mine?

Your place or mine.

Jack Hughes wishes he was cool enough to say it the way his older brother did, but unfortunately, he was not that gifted. Matter of Quinn being more articulate and approachable.

The only times Jack actually got some was when a girl approached him, or when they were done with the whole third date thing.

Tonight, he decided he would telepathically flirt with you by staring across the room. To him, this is the most effective form of flirting. You’d have to catch his eyes eventually.

Your hair was wild, eyeliner smudged and lipstick blotted, the thrill and the alcohol had you dancing and singing and acting lively, he immediately needed to know you better.

Judging by your energy and the way you sang along to every single song made him believe you might be a fun person to hang out with outside of having you in his bed.

God, he’s already formed a false version of you in his head.

Jack winced, feeling Trevor’s razor of an elbow poking at his rib.

“Literally just talk to her, bro.”

Jack stood there blinking and watched as Trevor switched out their drinks, giving him the stronger one out of the two. He covered his rib before Trevor could bruise it again.

“Christ, don’t do that. I can’t just go up to her and talk. Look at her.”

Trevor looked. He didn’t really see much besides a pretty girl getting shitfaced. He just shrugged and made Jack chug the strong drink, ordering two more for him to push him further.

The rest of was bits and pieces in Jack’s memory. He did, indeed, get as shitfaced as you. He remembers you coming over after noticing his gaze, resting your head on his shoulder (he nearly shat his pants), taking a sip out of his shot glass boldly and telling him that you liked it. That may have been a life altering experience for him; he thanked whichever god he pleased enough to deserve this.

The alcohol messed up his memory a bit; but he remembers your lips on his neck in the cab, his lips on your hipbones, and the warmth of your body close to his right before he drifted to sleep.

And now, it’s morning. He’s cold, alone, heavily disoriented, and doesn’t know his own name.

He realized he doesn’t know your name either, and came to the disappointing realization that you hadn’t even left a note with your number before making your departure. With a frown, he realized he would probably never see you again.

[•••]

“There again? I thought you’d give up by now, buddy.”

Jack knew that Trevor knew that he was borderline desperate to meet you again, but it still made him indignant; he did not need to call him out.

“I just think it’s a fun place, Z. Doesn’t mean I’m going there for someone specifically.” He busied himself with the chips aisle, looking for the one weird flavor he’d been wanting. He could feel Trevor’s eye roll at the back of his head.

Yes, it’s been two goddamn months since that night.

Yes, he’s been suspiciously frequenting the bar since then.

No, there is no correlation between those events and you.

Trevor opened his mouth again, but that’s when they heard two voices arguing in the aisle next to him. Jack turned around and raised a brow at Trevor, a silent invitation to eavesdrop. He, of course, took the bait.

Now, when Trevor and Jack say they hate drama, they mean they hate being involved in it. Other people’s drama, however? They’re watching like hawks.

“Winnie, I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Female. Familiar.

“But it’s only fair.” Female. Unfamiliar. “It’s that man’s fault his condom was too big either way! Plus, if he’s the fath—”

“The condom was too small of anything—”

At that moment, Jack moved a little too close to the rack of salsa dip, and rattled it hard, loudly enough for the ladies to pause their conversation. He cussed under his breath, hoping they would assume he just got there. He tried to ignore Trevor’s attempt at stifling his laugh.

“Excuse me? Are you alright?” You turn around the corner, and of course: It’s you, and Jack is elated.

He looks genuinely happy. You look like you just watched someone get skinned alive.

You immediately turn around, trying (and failing) to pretend like you didn’t see him. “Oh my god—Winnie, this is the guy. Save me.” You whisper desperately, watching Jack quickly fix the salsa dips in the corner of your eye before he turns to you fully.

“You—uh.” The words just won’t come out.

Trevor tried to save him. “Hi, im Trevor.” He sticks out his hand which you take. “You must be my one night stand-in law.” He grins.

Your eyes shift between him and Jack. “You’ve slept with him too?”

His hand goes limp in yours as Winnie graciously snorts with laughter. Luckily, that catches Trevor’s attention and he moves to greet her.

Jack decided, in that moment, that he just short circuited seeing you in sweatpants and a hood covering your head with strands of hair peeking out to frame your bare face. A contrast to when he first saw.

“Well, h-how have you been?” You ask awkwardly, wishing you could drop dead right about now.

“Pretty good. Yourself?” He leans gently against the shelf and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Oh, I’ve been alright.” You laugh weekly and bring your hand up to rub your tired eyes; sleep was a privilege nowadays. You were about to indicate that you had to leave before stopping short at Winnie glaring holes in the side your face, knowing that your chances of escaping were gone and she wouldn’t let down until you told him. Winnie smiled warmly and turned to Jack, sticking her hand out.

“You must be Drew.”

“Jack.” He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking her hand. “That actually sounds nothing like Drew—”

“Oh, fuck, don’t worry about it, it was just a random name we ran with.” You laugh again, fiddling with the boxes in your hands.

Jack desperately wanted to say something like ‘you’ve talked about me?’ but it was clear that you were trying to avoid him like the plague, so he refrained from ruining his chances to talk to you any further.

Winnie whispered something to Trevor which made his eyes comically widen, then they pretended to busy themselves with the shelves of chocolates.

“You look nice.” Jack smiled, you really did look pretty. Tired, probably a little sick, but pretty. “Like, glowing-”

“Jesus, please, not a glow.” You groan, putting your face in your hands. Jack’s gaze drops to the boxes you were holding.

“What are those?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Him noticing was the final nail to the coffin. It made your situation real-er than ever.

With a supportive glance from Winnie, and a deep inhale, you look at Jack again. Into those pretty, azure eyes that drew you to him in the first place.

“Pregnancy tests?” You say meekly, though it sounded more like you were asking. You hated how weak it sounded. “Look I don’t even know if I even am pregnant—”

The salsa dip rack shook again as Jack held on to it. “Oh—”

“Listen, look,” you move closer to him, “you can literally never see me or the kid, if it exists, ever again. I’m financially stable and I have lots of friends here that support me, so—”

“Wait, you’re sure it’s mine?” His voice felt like an echo to himself.

“Uh—yeah. That’s part of the reason I left, I’ve never exactly done one-time things. And I only knew you for that one night, so I kind of panicked. Being with a stranger.” You fumble with the boxes again, your anxiety peeking because even though you shouldn’t care, his lack of response was stressful.

He seemed to notice that, because next thing he was putting both of his hands on your shoulders. It was weird but made you feel a little calmer.

“Hey—it’s not like I’m upset with you or anything, okay? I—uh, think you—we should first make sure you are pregnant.” He loosens his hold a bit and steps closer. “And if you plan on keeping it, I want to be there. For you and the kid, I mean. Stick around, y’know? I can’t imagine life without my dad.”

His sentiment made you heavily emotional; this was kind of intimate for people who barely knew each other, but intimacy is how you ended up here anyway.

You sniffle, nodding. You weren’t exactly sick, but you weren’t feeling your best.

Jack felt his heart go soft and he hugged you, enveloping you in much needed warmth. When you wrapped your arms around him, you caught Winnie’s eye over his shoulder and were sure of a few things;

One, If you were having a baby, you’re keeping it. You’re still young, but you’ve always wanted to be a young mother, even if it was with a father you knew better. Your support system was very fortunately intact, even without Jack.

And two, you were sure that Jack would keep his promise of ‘sticking around’.

[•••]

“So, like, what do you do?” Jack’s head snapped up to meet Winnie’s sharp gaze.

The four of them had just walked into your apartment and you locked yourself in the bathroom with the tests. Winnie and Trevor hit it off immediately but she was still skeptic of Jack.

“Hm?”

“Your job? Wait, don’t tell me you don’t—”

“I have a job.” Jack rolled his eyes “I play.” He replied shortly, his head still spinning.

“Play? Fuck does that mean? Like poker, the guitar, or what?” Winnie squinted her eyes. “If I catch anything weird about you, you’re out.” Jack didn’t miss the way Trevor grinned stupidly at her.

“I play hockey. Professionally. Just 20 minutes away, in Jersey.” Jack huffed, he didn’t like the added stress of appealing to your best friend.

“Hm. Interesting, can’t say I’ve ever heard of you, Drew—”

“Jack—”

“Hold on.” She typed something on her phone and turned it to him. “Is this you?” It is Jack’s instagram profile, so he nods. She scrolls through his following and quirks a brow, “your following looks like you just graduated from a private, all-girls high school.”

Jack doesn’t even know what to say to that, much less what it means, so he just stays quiet before the bathroom door unlocks.

“Winnie, 3 minute timer, please,” you say, drying your hands on a towel, eyeing the five tests lined up on the counter face down. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the anxiety crawl back up your spine.

You let yourself relax at Jack’s soothing back rubs, and observe quietly for a moment while he scowled at whatever Winnie and Trevor were making fun of him for. His jawline is just barely peppered with stubble and he smells really nice. You can see why he was the choice that night.

Jack is quick to look back at you, having to tilt his head slightly downwards as he catches the expression on your face.

“It’s going to okay,” he mouths.

And when you flipped over every test to see that you had a real life shit-machine growing inside of you, you believed him.

[•••]

Jack got off the phone with his mother with a small breath of relief. The hundreds of insecurities that initially made their way through his head were overshadowed by a feeling of happiness; his mother was quick to assure him that it won’t be that difficult to figure it out.

Winnie was kneeling in front of you on the couch, trying to be comforting. Or something like that.

“Kill that thing.”

“Winnie, what the hell?”

“Babe, you have work! You have other things to do! And—” she lowered her voice, “—Drew might not be around that much to help.” She straightened again. “If you really want to keep it then it’s up to you, though.” She added softly.

You appreciated Winnie’s outlook on your situation, but that wasn’t what you needed because you were really, genuinely, sure you were keeping the kid.

“For the third time, it’s Jack. Why—?”

“I’m sorry, she’s just like that.” You speak up, finding the small frown on Jack’s face rather endearing. “What—uh, what did your mom say?”

“She wants to meet you. She’s happy.”

“That’s really sweet.” You say with a yawn, exhausted from the days events. Jack’s mother seems nice, but you were too tired to feel scared of her at the moment.

Jack notices that you were tired and nudged Trevor so they leave, but not before everyone exchanged numbers.

[•••]

The next available weekend Jack’s mom could come over was in two weeks. Which meant he had to keep the little secret from everyone around him. Well, except Trevor.

Jack could feel himself already growing protective of his..son? daughter? Still, it was just insane to him that he was going to have a child. His own child.

He can handle the scrutiny, but he was afraid for you and how you would have to deal with all of the outside pressure.

He shrugged off the thoughts, chugged the rest of his beer, and decided to just sleep on it.

Waking up after a good rest, Jack realized he was more excited than anything. Who cares what people say? He’s always wanted kids and off the top of his head, he doesn’t know anyone better than you that he would have them with.

He’ll just have to be really impressive and devoted to gain your trust.

And that’s what he was going to do.

[abluebirdsseaview]

All New part 3

-----------------

Part 1

Part 2

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A/n: sorry for the wait, and I hope everyone has had a amazing Thanksgiving (if you celebrate)

This is a longer chapter to make up for the wait

Please reblog, like, comment

-----------------

Text messages

You

Heyyyy

I had a really good time tonight

Would love to go out again

But like only if you want to

Drew

I would want nothing more

You looked beautiful tonight

You

Awww thank youuuu

You clean up nice

Drew

You got me blushing

Can't wait to see you again

Text messages with Mads

You

MADELINEEEE

The night was perfect and so is he

Mads

Awwww that's so sweet

My two favs are going to fall in loveee

You

Don't jinx it

I'm just scared about going out

I don't want any drama bc most of my fans are really defensive of tom

And like if I move on fast, people are going to be pissed

Mads

I know you love being chronically online

But you have healed and like the people in your life knows what Tom did to you

You deserve to be happy and not fearful of the public

You

True

I'm still going to try to keep drew and I private especially since this was only a first date

Okay I gtg but ilyyyyy

Mads

Love you more

-----------------

A couple days later

Instagram

tomblyth

Liked by 327,918 users

tomblyth loml

12k comments

User1 well this is certainly a development !

User2 they way I thought I had a chance after the y/n breakup 😔

User3 I just know y/n's gc is going crazy

hole4drewstarkey

Liked by yourinstagram, drewstarkey, and 5,279 other users

hole4drewstarkey drew was asked on the Jimmy Kimmel show if he was open to dating and he blushed and answered definitely WHO IS THE GJRL DREWWWW WHO IS SHEE AND WHY NOT MEEEEEEEEE PLEASEES PLEAK

159 comments

User1 it's me, sorry guys

>user2 me when I'm manifesting

User2 DREW LIKED

>user3 so did y/n.... hmmm

User4 he is so sexyyyy

Instagram DM's

Yourinstagram sent hole4drewstarkey's post

Hmmm open to dating...

Good to know

drewstarkey

Yeah went on a date with a really cool girl last week

Yourinstagram

Lucky girl

drewstarkey

Hold up I just saw the user name and im dying

HOLE4DREWSTARKEY???? killer name

Yourinstagram

I love fan accounts

I started following this one #number1drewstarkeyfan

drewstarkey

Liked by 863,187

drewstarkey missing new york

9k comments

hole4drewstarkey who is behind the camera drew 🤬

>drewstarkey it's a secret

>hole4drewstarkey WTF YOU REPLIED

User1 I'm obsessed with the jacket

User2 thats bae

Madelinecline new york seems to be very popular...

Yourinstagram his favorite drink is a shirley temple btw

>drewstarkey this is confidential information and how dare you release it

Sabrinacarpenter

Liked by 1,278,492 users

sabrinacarpenter the girls are scheming @/yourinstagram

27k comments

Yourinstagram it's killing me to keep this a secret

User1 WHAT IS ITTT5

User2 these queens

Madelinecline the fur coats? I'm obsessed

Yourinstagram

Liked by 973,992 users

Yourinstagram in the city

8k comments

Madelinecline hmmm the fourth pic...

>user1 I feel like Madeline knows things we dont...

User1 the guy in the back of the fourth pic

User2 she's so hot omlllll

Sabrinacarpenter can we try some freaky positions

>yourinstagram how do you feel about wheelbarrow

>sabrinacarpenter yessss 😫

Drewstarkey fire caption

>yourinstagram a genius came up with it

-----------------

Hi friends! If you have any ideas for blurbs or even new concepts, send them in I would love to write them!

Don't forget to like AND reblog

Taglist:

@mads-writes-vibes @xcinnamonmalfoyx @frankoceanluvr11 @willowpains @rafecameronsfan @mytimeiswaiting @aariahnaa @girl-detective16 @mrsjamespotterr @thepopcultureaddict @purplerose291

[idkfrogs9876]

oh BOY do i have both sides of this - bio mom dumped all the problems on me - (yet i still somehow didn't manage to find out i was a rainbow baby until i was 17 years old) (i'm an only child btw) (found out because i eavesdropped on a convo of her talking to the next door neighbor) - grandma was pretty open with me, until she wasn't - it didn't dawn on me until i was a full legal adult that i had been on puberty blockers for two-and-a-half years as a child (ages 7-10), which i find hilarious because her transphobic ass is the one that put them on me - (maybe that's why my gender is a big ass question mark) - also dropped on me at the age of 20 that my grandpa has a really bad dependency on weed? or smth like that? and i'm like......... i know? i've seen him smoking? i smell the weed? it gives me a migraine? she acted like i didn't know something was up. honey. - dad was really reserved with me - we basically just exchange horror stories of my bio mom + he randomly drops the most sexual joke known to mankind - (also the mental whiplash i did when he mentioned going to jail and the restraining order my bio mom had on me???????? brother what i'm 19 years old) - stepmom is a wild, chronically high, nut case - she got high asf one night, come 1am and i'm just casually dropping "the gays are cool people" hints to see if i could come out to her, and she busts out the story of how her parents caught her at 15 losing her virginity to the female best friend i'd met last thankgiving - when i came out to her about a year later (in june) she said "honey you already told me? in october? i asked you if you liked guys or girls or what and you said, it's about the heart of the person, not the physical appearance?" to which i had to look her in the eye and say "you had a fucking weed hallucination of me coming out to you as pansexual bc i know damn well that didn't happen" - rip me tho bc her hallucination had the most pansexual statement of all time and all i did was bake a cake with the bi colors that said "don't PANic, i'm gay! (bi but with spice)" bc one i couldn't find yellow icing and two i wasn't sure if she knew/understood the difference (bonus three bc i claim both labels)

Yes it’s good for your parents to not dump all of their problems on you as a kid but the flip side of that is you get random terrifying lore about them at the most unexpected of times as an adult

[simpjaes]

do we think anyone in the hyung line would be into voyeurism whether it’s being the watcher or the performer 🤭

☆ jay:

Watcher but also down to be a performer, it's gotta be like, mutual tho. like mutual masturbation. He'd rather not be watched if he's the only doing anything. [unless he's being a cam boy, it would be different bc he wouldn't show his face and also strangers would be watching so....] anyway, i think he'd love to watch you tho, and even have you sit between his legs and touch yourself for his camera or in front of a mirror. if we are talking about watching other people have sex tho....listen. the man doesn't mind cucking. he also probably wouldn't mind sneaking a peek at his best friends when they're railing their girl either. definitely shamelessly gets off to it in the open, but prefers to not be caught if that's the case. if he gets caught, you'll never see him again. definitely sneaky w/ it.

★ jake:

performer 1000000%. given, if he's a performer it means he's probs into watching too but i think he prefers to be the center of attention. likes to have his hand down his pants in semi-public places if the mood is right too. Parties, in the library, at the dinner table, etc. something about the thrill of no one knowing what he's doing while looking him in the eye. I also do think he'd use it as a means to entice too, flashing his cock at pretty girls if they show an interest in him after a little while of flirting, def down to fuck them in his car with the windows down in broad daylight too.

☆ sunghoon:

watcher. prefers not to be seen jerking it or getting it on but looooves seeing other people do it. the type to seek it out from time to time. Accidentally walking into closed bedrooms at house parties just so he feels that warmth in his gut, closely watching how touchy his friends are with their gfs, has even asked once or twice if his bros would ever fuck their girl on cam for him to watch. maybe they did do that for him too, who knows? definitely a window peeper if we wanna go into criminal territory. the type to jerk off outside of windows and/or on someone's belongings just because he saw them with their legs spread around someone else lmfao. AND JUST TO ADD A LIL MORE SAUCE TO THIS ONE: i think he prefers thin walls bc if he can't watch, he at least gets to listen, right?

★ heeseung:

both. will force you to watch him fuck other people or jerk off just to get a reaction out of you, especially if you're just fuck buddies. Will also show up at your house when he knows you're with someone else, just because he knows you'll let him in, and he knows you can't stop him from watching. he'd definitely be a jealous type though, sitting there in your room watching some guy try to do what only he can do for you. Up until said guy is like " i didn't sign up for this" and leaves. thats when heeseung really would become a watcher, making you touch yourself and letting you feel empty and unsatisfied. would probably coo out at you when you finally have a shitty orgasm, like, "would've been better if you just called me in the first place, wouldn't it?"