#but there was a point in between where it was like. shit now what

[bbyg4rl]

reader getting all hot and bothered watching jj fix her car

thank you for fixing my car JJ

cw: jj x reader, no established relationship, oral (m receiving) !

summary: you thank jj for fixing your car.

a/n: this was supposed to be a small blurb but i got carried away lol hope you like this anon ♡

"you should let me take care of your car more" JJ speaks out from where he was hunched over your car's open hood. You had been watching him for fifteen minutes now. Fifteen minutes of the best view in obx. Fifteen minutes of grunts and pants and back and abs and arms. What a view.

You were sure the oil from your car ruining jj's shirt was just the universe blessing you. It's not everyday you can sit and watch a shirtless jj work.

"all done dumbass" he says pushing the hood of your car down with a loud grunt. Your eyes refuse to leave the sight of his arms as the muscles flex.

"Oh wow" you whisper to yourself, taking mental polaroids of every movement he makes.

Not a word leaves your mouth when he faces you. Your pussy's doing the talking now.

You can't help but rub your thighs together when he shoots you a shit eating grin all covered in grease and oil.

And of course he notices the affect he's having on you. He was enjoying this too.

Why else would a two minute fix take fifteen minutes? Why else would a perfectly fine oil sump shoot oil all of a sudden? That too only on his shirt?

Seeing you all worked up over had him worked up. He had his eyes on you the whole time. He'd seen every lip bite, every clench of your thighs, every flutter of your stomach- he was feeling everything you were feeling.

It took a special kind of control for him not to take you right there. To resist dirtying you with his greasy hands and bathe you in engine oil as he bent you over the hood and slid in and out of you.

He walked over to you slowly, his greasy hands now on your knees. "No 'thank you JJ'?"

"Thank you JJ" You say to him softly, voice on the verge of whimpers. You knew that he knew what you were feeling.

He takes a step back and points to himself. "Look at me baby- a small thank you isnt gonna cut it now is it?"

He takes your hand and pulls you off your seat. Your knees felt like jelly as he led you to the back seat of your car. He opened the door and you slid into the seat, earning a chuckle from him. He slides in after you and closes the door.

"Thank you for fixing my car JJ" you giggle out as your hands reach the hem of his shorts, He groans when you palm his crotch a few times before pulling them down.

You're quickly met with his cock, standing proud in front of your face. You wrap your arms around him and give him a few slow strokes. It's only fair he deserved to feel good after all the hard work he had just done.

He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand and tugs you lower, silently ordering you to open up. And you gladly did. He pushed your face lower and lower as his dick twitched in your throat.

He held you down for a few more moments before using his grip on your hair to bob your head up and down on him. He hit the back of your throat with every rutt of his dick against you. Your mascara ran down your cheeks as he continued to fuck your mouth with his cock.

He pulls you off when hes satisfied with how much mascara is smeared on your face. He taps your cheek a few times- his silent code for please me.

You take his signal and reach out to stroke him, wrapping your mouth around his pink tip, You slowly suck as you tighten your hands around his shaft, twisting them around his girth, alternating between small kitten licks on his tip and long licks on the veins on his underside.

It didnt take long for him to reach his climax. He let out small whimpers as he paints your face with his cum.

"Thank you for fixing my car JJ" you say again as you lap up at the sticky liquid around your lips.

check out my other works ! masterlist

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook (2) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

post match vibes

warning: mentions of stitches, needle, and blood

note: 2/5 parts for this mini series! thanks for the love w pt1! mwah

//

jungkook sits on the edge of the ever-so-familiar hospital bed.

his legs are spread, hands draped over his knees, and he fights the urge to shut his eyes as the overhead light casts sharp shadows over the planes of his face.

he can feel it—his blood dripping down the sides of his face. the fresh cut on his forehead stark against his skin and the throbbing almost makes him feel like shit. jungkook takes a deep breath and stays still as you prep the needle. though the sterile scent of disinfectant settles between you, jungkook is doing his absolute best to memorize the way you smell.

you smell so freaking good.

"i thought you said you were good at boxing."

your voice is light, but the weight of it presses against his ribs. he grins, dimples threatening to form despite the sting above his brow.

"i am."

"so i'm stitching you up because?"

his gaze flickers to you, dark and intent. "i've been lacking the motivation."

"to win?"

"to focus,” he confesses. “how long has it been, doc? 3 months? shit. haven’t been myself since then. every day i hoped someone would beat the shit out of me so i could have an excuse to see you.”

"so you got yourself beaten up just to see me? is that supposed to impress me?" you ask him unamused.

he shakes his head. "no, but my dedication to seeing you again is."

"do you ever take no for an answer?"

"did you even really say no to me, though?"

the air stills.

then, you exhale through your nose. pretending to be unimpressed at him before pressing the needle to his skin. as you wait for his reaction, you run through different comebacks.

but you're out of time. in fact, you barely had any.

jungkook doesn’t flinch.

it truly does impress you because this shot is a bitch. yet, you notice how his fingers curl into a fist against the sheets.

"it's okay if it hurts," you murmur. "it's not supposed to be painless."

his jaw flexes. 

"i can handle hits. stitches? easy."

"i never said you couldn't handle it. i said it's okay if it hurts."

jungkook isn’t sure what it is… but silence drapes over the room. like a heavy mist or early moving fog.

it’s thick and weighted. 

jungkook swallows. his throat feels dry. his mind races. 

all his life, pain has been an afterthought—background noise to the only thing that’s ever mattered; winning. to jungkook, if he isn’t bruised, battered, and bleeding by the end of a fight, he hasn’t fought hard enough. pain isn’t something to be acknowledged and dwelled on. it’s a consequence. a transaction. 

but now, here you are… speaking about it so simply and coated in acceptance and warmth. then, there’s also your motherfucking gaze. 

so soft. 

so kind. 

so present. 

all of these things mixed together make his stomach twist. he doesn’t know how to act. he does’t know what to say. he doesn’t know what to feel.

he wonders if this is what pain really feels like—not the kind he’s trained to endure, but the kind that sneaks up on you, curling around your ribs when you least expect it. he wonders if it’s because he’s spent so long numbing himself to it… or if it’s because, for the first time, he’s realized something worse than losing a fight…

losing the chance to keep seeing you.

because holy fuck. 

where have you been his entire life? 

seriously.

jungkook clears his throat, stretching out his fingers, forcing the tension from his knuckles. "so, doc," he starts, a smirk playing at his lips, "do you date doctors?"

you blink. "pardon me?"

"you don’t date patients, right? well, everyone is a patient at some point, but not everyone is a doctor. so, do you only date doctors?"

you almost laugh. 

almost.

"you just got seven stitches on your forehead and you're concerned about whether or not i date doctors?"

jungkook shrugs before dropping the most nonchalant information about himself; "i have a degree in nutrition, you know. used to specialize in sports nutrition. just wanted to give boxing a shot—"

"wow. i didn't know that. that’s really cool." you say, genuinely intrigued, "what school did you go to—"

"i won't quit boxing... at least, not yet... but if i ever do, just know that i can be a doctor too… if that’s who you date and shit."

“and shit?”

“and shit.”

this time, you do laugh. 

it’s so pretty. 

the sound of it and the sight of it—mesmerizing. 

it catches jungkook off guard. his eyes flickering over your face, lingering a second too long. he looks at you… he really looks at you and it’s like he just won the best thing in the world. like he’s a kid who won BINGO in his class for the first time and got to choose the scented eraser as his prize. 

he watches you and thinks; to have you is to win. 

you’re the only victory he wants. 

as he shifts forward to hop off the bed, your hands move on instinct, catching him before he can fully rise. your fingers press lightly against the firm muscle of his forearm, his skin warm beneath your touch. he stills at the contact, his gaze flicking down to where your hands steady him, then back up to your face.

for a beat, neither of you move.

the air shifts—thickens—his breath slowing as he watches you, unreadable. your pulse kicks up, just slightly, just enough for you to notice. but then jungkook smirks, lazy and knowing, the tension splintering just as quickly as it built.

"careful, doc," he murmurs, voice lower now, laced with something teasing, something else. "if you keep holding onto me like that, i might start thinking you care."

"you shouldn’t be jumping off like that so fast—"

"okay. whatever you say. hey, look at me," he says, voice quieter now, more deliberate. your fingers still against his arm. "i'm not bad looking, right? i have an education. i follow my passion, and it's going well—"

"again," you interject, "i just gave you seven stitches."

"again," he repeats, "i just needed a reason to see you."

"you requested me and refused to be treated by namjoon," you point out.

"exactly," jungkook smirks.

you bite your bottom lip, catching yourself before you react. suddenly, you’re aware of how close you are—his warmth pressing into your space, the scent of sweat and antiseptic clinging to him. his eyes are locked on yours, waiting, watching.

"___—"

"doctor ___," you correct, stepping back, straightening your coat, severing whatever was hanging between you.

"doctor ___..." he tests the words on his tongue, then nods. "i’d really appreciate it if you could reconsider the whole... only dating a doctor thing. honestly? i don’t mind school. i just don’t want to go back and be old by the time i get to your level… but if that’s really the only way you’ll go out with me—"

rolling your eyes, you brush off your coat, turning toward the door—just like last time. pushing it open, you pause before you step through. taking one final glance at him, you titl your head ever so slightly. 

jungkook mirrors you. 

"no, mr. jeon," you say, voice laced with amusement. "i do not just date doctors. in fact, i avoid dating them."

then, the door swings shut behind you.

jungkook exhales, pressing his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head as he lets out a breathless chuckle.

hope. 

that’s what this feels like.

he’s had victories before, ones that have left him bruised and battered, ones that have left him undefeated. but this? this is something else entirely. something he’s willing to lose for. something he knows, in the deepest part of his chest, he can’t afford to.

not this time.

not when it’s you.

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | six.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 6.6k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language, seora spends time with her uncle mingi, first date <33, yunho opens up about his parents to oc, holding hands, good conversations & just a bunch of cute simp shit, goodnight kisses 🥰, i swear things will get a lil spicier next chap lmao

yunho: goodmorning. 😊

This morning had been one of those mornings. You had gotten up a little later than usual, feeling tired from the exhausting week. On top of that, you turned down Yunho's offer to bring you to work so that you wouldn't have to take the bus over; afraid you'd be asking for too much since he was gonna be driving around later tonight. Had you known the bus would be running late, you might've taken him up on it. But, with it being Friday, you were just excited to get your day over with so that you could hang out with Yunho one-on-one.

It was a blessing and a curse that it was busy as soon as you walked in this morning. A blessing because the day would breeze on by. A curse because you didn't even get a chance to respond to Yunho's cute lil text before jumping right into your task list. Until, your desktop computer decided to be stubborn and stop working properly— setting you behind even more than you already were due to the commute.

you: hi, goodmorning ☺️

you: i'm sorry for the late response! i'm having quite the morning. i have so much to do, but my desktop isn't working now. i feel so incomplet and useless. 😭

yunho: it's okay! not like i thought you forgot about me or anything .. 🥲

you: lol sorry, never!

yunho: wdym it's not working?

you: it won't stay on. keeps going on power save mode even though my settings are adjusted to never go on power save mode.

yunho: interesting. where do you sit in the peds hospital again?

you: 4th floor, M103.

yunho: i'll be over in a sec.

you: yunho?? you don't even support our unit 😭

yunho: and? lol. i have time. brb!

"What?" You mutter to yourself as you set your phone down, a little worried about Yunho getting in trouble or pushing off his work to help you. You shrug it off, scribbling in your planner and working through emails on your laptop until Yunho swings by.

Which, didn't take him long post-reply. He was at your cubicle about 15 minutes later.

"Hey." Yunho says softly.

"Hi." You shyly laugh. "How did you even get in here?"

"IT has access everywhere, believe it or not." He smiles before pointing at your desktop. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Go for it." He pulls up an empty office chair nearby and drags it over to your desk, sitting comfortably as he presses the power button. He presses it a few times and clicks away at your mouse until the screen pops up. 

"Hm." He hums. "Took awhile."

"It's gonna shut down on you."

"Is that what's been happening?"

"Mhm. Just now actually. When I get it back up and running, it'll let me work for a few minutes before it shuts off and goes into power mode randomly." He's click-clacking away on the keyboard, forehead tightly knit as he eventually rests his elbow on the desk— hand hovering over his mouth, with the other on the mouse.

"How old is your computer?"

"I don't know, maybe 8-10 years old? It was passed down from the previous project manager when I stepped into her role."

"Yikes." He laughs. "I'll try a few things, but might also be a good time to consider getting a new one." He starts pulling up the terminal and plugging in some code— language you definitely don't understand.

"Yeah, I know."

"You actively push data or other work to the cloud, right? So you have a backup and can pull it up anywhere?"

"Mhm."

"Good." He gives you a small smirk. "Then, getting a replacement wouldn't be so bad. You deserve it." You laugh.

"Hope the department thinks so."

"I mean, you do need a working computer to get your things done." He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms, slightly slumped in his position. "I just plugged in a code to mimic the movement of your mouse so the computer thinks something is always happening. If you look closely at the pointer, you can see it twitching a bit." You look up close on the screen and manage to see what he's talking about.

"Woah. Okay, genius."

"Not even." He laughs. "If you don't mind me being in your space for a little longer, I wanna see if this keeps your computer awake."

"As long as it isn't taking up unnecessary time and making you behind."

"Never." He smiles at you. "So."

"So." You mimic him. "Where are you taking me later?"

"For me to know and you to find out." You snort.

"Clever. Am I dressed enough for the occasion?" Yunho eyes your outfit, running a finger across his bottom lip while he smirks at you. 

"Yeah, you look good. You always do." You playfully push him on the bicep, making him laugh. "What? I can't be honest?"

"Hey— oh? Oops. Hi Yunho." Noeul gives you a look before slowly walking away. 

"Hey Noeul." 

"I'll come back later." She mouths out as Yunho gives off a small chuckle. Suddenly, he shifts his attention back to your computer when he notices the screen go black, and he's back to sitting up again. 

"Damn." He tries fiddling with the mouse and keyboard again. "Guess that didn't work. I think this is a hardware issue now, but .." He turns to you with the same smirk he was sporting earlier when he was spitting out those compliments. "Since your computer is pretty old, I can't say it won't act up again if you get this serviced."

"So, you're saying a new computer is definitely the way to go." He nods.

"You deserve it." He stands as he reminds you. "You should think about getting a 38" monitor instead of having two. It's basically the equivalent and helps with productivity."

"What are some good ones?"

"I can send you some recs in a bit. I'm sorry you'll have to work from your laptop for now. But, whatever you order, I can help make sure it gets to you ASAP and I'll help set it up."

"Yunho." You slightly pout as he's slowly walking out of your cubicle.

"No but's. I got you." He looks down at his watch. "Anyway, gotta head back."

"See, don't tell me you have tons of stuff to catch up on now because of me?"

"I doooon't." He almost whines with a small laugh. He totally does. He's actually kinda swamped, but he made it over anyway because seeing you is nice. "See you later?" You nod and giggle. "I'll text you when I'm all wrapped up on my end."

"Okay. Thank you again."

"No worries." He playfully sends you a wink before walking off and out of the office area. Noeul finally comes creeping up to your cubicle, squealing at a low tone.

"Stop, he's so into you."

"Don't start." You bite onto your bottom lip as you continue to keep your eyes glued onto the tiny laptop screen.

"Where is he taking you? Did he say anything?"

"Nope. I am completely in the dark."

"Those are the best kinda dates. He's gonna take good care of you."

"I just wanna get out of here." You whine as your place your head down on your desk for a few minutes.

"You will! And the wait will be worth it!" You look up at her and let out a small sigh, nodding your head.

"You're right. Let me tackle all of this so I can get outta here sooner than later."

"And hang out with your man, yes!" She leans against your desk. "By the way, what'd he say about your computer?"

"Oh, this thing is done with. I need a new one. I'm just waiting for Yunho to send me some recs."

"Been telling you that."

"Well, it kept me going for some time." You pat the top of the monitor screen. "It was nice while it lasted."

"I love this for you, you know that? Upgrading your computer, your love life. This era is cute." You chuckle and shake your head.

"Go. I gotta get back to work." You push her along, making her giggle at how obviously flustered you are over the topic.

yunho: some recs for the boss lady!

You see Yunho's Slack message come in, along with links from the IT catalog. 

yunho: this CPU should do you good, along with the 38". 😮‍💨

you: haha, thank you. 😊 i'll place my order right now!

yunho: can you send me your ticket number so i can keep an eye on it?

you: maybe....

yunho: ☹️☹️☹️☹️

you: you have too much other work to worry about!

yunho: including your ticket, yes!

you: you're unbelievable. 😂

yunho: you can always opt out for tonight (ouch) ..... 😖

you: never! lol. i'm excited actually. ☺️

yunho: i am, too. 

You smile to yourself during the brief pause in between messages, unsure how to respond to Yunho without sounding like you're doing too much or saying something crazy. But, the Slack notification goes off again—

yunho: okay, i actually gtg and help jihoon with something.

yunho: seriously send me your ticket number after you're done, pls!

Pause.

yunho: can't wait to spend time with you, y/n.

And all that overthinking goes straight out the window.

you: same. 😌

Seora had a long day at school— her day filled with a bunch of tests and pop quizzes, damn near dragging herself out of the classroom and into the gym afterward. She happily talks with her friends as they change into their practice gear, joking around and being the typical girls they are as they get out onto the floor with their water bottles. After equal wins and losses, the coach decides to continue running and improving plays to push the team forward to the playoffs and hopefully, a championship win. 

When practice wraps up, Seora grabs her things and finds her other favorite uncle talking to some of the parents outside of the gym; sweat still on her face, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. When his eyes finally land on hers, he gives Seora's hair a good ruffle before taking her bags from her.

"Ace!"

"Uncle Mangi!" She copies his tone and laughs.

"How was practice?"

"Tiring. I'm pooped. I can barely feel my legs today."

"Working hard, atta girl. On our way to the WNBA." He tosses her bags in the backseat before hopping in. "Hope you don't mind, I gotta stop at the grocery store really quickly for our dinner."

"Only if I can grab some snacks."

"Course you can. Don't spoil your appetite for dinner, though. I'm gonna make some galbijjim."

"Yum! One of my faves."

"Exactly." He laughs. "How was school today?"

"The usual. Nothing too special."

"Nothing too special? Nothing happened at all?"

"Nope. Too many tests and pop-quizzes. I did get an A on my math test, though."

"That's something." She nods as she looks out the window.

"So, my dad's got another team dinner?"

"Mhm." He hums.

"Impossible." 

"They've been working really hard on a lot of different things across the hospital lately. Helps relieve stress, I guess." One thing about Mingi is that he will never out Yunho the way Seonghwa unintentionally does. If Yunho's got a team dinner, Mingi will stick to the story down to the T. Maybe even throw in his own details and dramatics to make it more believable.

"He barely used to have team dinners."

"Well, maybe their goal was to have more!"

"Are you hiding something, Uncle Mangi? Cause Uncle Hwa accidentally spilled the beans last time and said dad was on a date."

"Why would your Uncle Hwa do that? Should I fight him?" Seora laughs and shakes her head. "He wasn't on a date."

"Uncle Mangi." He looks at her.

"Mhm?"

"Lying is bad."

"I'm not lying!" She continues to squint her eyes at him before finally giving up her case and settling back into the seat. 

"Fine. What about you then, Uncle Mangi? What's new? How was your trip to Japan?"

"Nothing much. But, it was good. Nice to be in different sceneries from time to time."

"Dad keeps saying we'll tag along one day, but we haven't yet. I wanna go soon."

"I'll let him know, don't worry."

"They must have soooo much cute stuff. Don't they?"

"Lots." Mingi pulls up to the grocery store, driving into a spot near the entrance. "You'd definitely love it there."

"Where else have you been, Uncle Mangi?" She follows alongside of her towering uncle while he grabs a cart and heads into the store.

"Everywhere and nowhere all at the same time." She laughs.

"Seriously."

"One place I'll always remember is Switzerland. It's beautiful there. Probably one of my top places I've been to."

"I'm sure. I've only seen it in books, but it looks really pretty."

"It is. Those textbook pics definitely don't do it enough justice." Mingi sorts through the meat packages while Seora quickly wanders off into an aisle to grab her favorite chips and cookies. She drops it into the cart, with Mingi barely noticing.

"I have a random question for you."

"Try me."

"Do you think it's better to lock yourself up in a grocery store like this during a zombie apocalypse or keep it moving?"

"Well." Mingi continues to slowly walk down the aisles, making sure he doesn't miss any ingredients on his mental grocery list needed for tonight's dinner. "I'd say keep it moving."

"Why? You'd have everything in here."

"That's if no one raids the store, which would be impossible at that time. Plus, it can only keep you safe for so long before zombies find their way in or another group comes around. You could quite literally die before you even have a chance to try and survive."

"You'd have to take a break at some point though, right?"

"You could, but always best to keep it moving, ace. Never leave a trail for people."

"Okay, touché."

"Cereal first or milk first?" Mingi suddenly asks as they go through the cereal section.

"Cereal."

"What? No. Did your dad teach you that?"

"What kind of planet are you living on? Isn't that how it normally is?" Mingi stops the cart and looks at her. 

"Warm or cold milk then?"

"For cereal?" Mingi nods. "Cold?!"

"You and your weird ass dad." Seora laughs loudly. "Did anybody want a child? Cause this one is not mine—" Seora pinches her uncle's bicep, causing him to yelp as they push through the remaining aisles.

"You soggy cereal lover." Seora points out.

"That's literally the best way to have it."

"Ew, you're like eating mushed up cardboard." Mingi sighs.

"You're very lucky I love you and that your dad is my bestfriend or else I would've blocked him."

"You're so dramatic." She throws more snacks into the cart just as they're about to head to the registers.

"Any more snacks or you're good?"

"I'm good! I'm excited for dinner." Mingi laughs.

"I am, too. Too bad I gotta cook it first."

"You're a great cook, Uncle Mangi. I always enjoy the food you make." She tugs on his sleeve.

"I do try my best." She helps her uncle load the groceries onto the belt, pulling the cart towards the end to help bag up their things and throw it back in. Mingi taps his card to the reader before helping Seora with the heavier bags. Once they've gathered all their things, Mingi pushes the cart over to the car, loading it up in his trunk while Seora plops into the front seat. "Ready to head home?"

"Yeah, dying to shake a shower." Mingi starts up the car and begins the journey home.

"Yeah, you need it." He teases, causing Seora to lightly punch him on the arm.

"You're mean!"

"Kidding!" He laughs. "So, what's on the agenda tonight? We eat, you do homework. Watch some shows? Talk a walk around the neighborhood?"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat. I kinda have a bit of homework so I dunno about that walk. Plus, I'm pretty sore already."

"Okay, we'll play it by ear then." On the way home, Seora continues to tell Mingi about the staycation her father took her on and the new dog café they visited. She talks to him about her friends and how one of her friends started having a crush on one of the boys in their class. Mingi playfully gasps before lecturing her about boys and how icky they can be [coming from an honest heart]. But Seora laughs it off and tells her uncle that she's not really worried about that stuff.

All Mingi can say in response is 'you better not be.'

When the two finally get home, Mingi immediately sets himself up in the kitchen to get dinner going, while Seora throws her backpack down in the living room and heads straight to the shower. She takes a good, long shower before throwing on her pajamas and brushing through her wet hair. She sits on the living room floor and gets going with her homework while waiting for her uncle to finish cooking dinner.

Meanwhile, Yunho makes his way over to the peds hospital— happily stepping into the elevator to make his way back up to your office. When he gets there, he realizes most people have already clocked out and left for the day, only leaving you and a select few heads working away in the cubicles.

"Hey. Ready?" You smile as you look up at Yunho, sending one last meeting invite for next week before closing down your apps and shutting off your laptop.

"Yeah! I thought you were gonna text me so I could meet you halfway."

"Um, no." Yunho laughs. "I would much rather come get you so we can walk to the car together." 

"That's sweet." You throw on your coat and slide the bag strap over your shoulder. "So, how was the rest of your day?"

"Good. Not too crazy, at least."

"Did the offers go out to the candidates you were planning on hiring?"

"Oh, yeah! They actually signed earlier this week and they'll be starting next week. They were able to get the background checks cleared out in time."

"Aw, that's awesome! You guys will finally get help." 

"Yeah. It'll be busy for awhile getting them onboarded and trained."

"Yunho's gonna go MIA."

"Yunho is not gonna go MIA." He laughs. 

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, of course." He chuckles. "I'll always make time."

"You say that now."

"And I'll say it tomorrow, and the next day, and so on." He pinches your cheeks. "Don't trip." You smile feeling his warm touch against your skin. "Well, I didn't think it'd be so cold this evening. Are you okay with your coat and all? Is it enough?"

"It is."

"Okay, well just let me know. We'll be inside for the most part, but I want you to be comfortable."

"Thank you." You continue to walk alongside of Yunho until you get to his car. You give him the ins and outs of your day besides the whole computer issue that he tried to rescue you from while he grabs your bags and gently sets it in the trunk of his BMW and pops the door open for you. When you slide in and get comfortable, you notice how spotless his car is and how it smells like a hint of his cologne, along with laundry detergent and the fresh car smell. There are a few colorful hair ties lining the bottom of one of the cupholders, along with a hoodie in the backseat and a basketball. Yunho laughs and apologizes for Seora's mess— he also hasn't gotten a chance to bring in her things simply because he doesn't think much of it.

It almost feels like Seora is with him one way or another and he finds comfort in that.

On the drive over to dinner, he asks a bit about what other days look like for you and if you anticipate other big projects to come your way. You talk about a new project that was already mentioned to you by your manager, which involves remodeling one of the levels to a study/meeting area. You also tell Yunho it isn't a high priority, but you've already started the conversation with some of the facilities coordinators that can help rope in the appropriate vendors for certain tasks.

He transitions by telling you a few of the little projects he's been working on with his team, along with figuring out how to upgrade systems and all that jazz. You find that Yunho and his team are constantly working to support so many different departments, and it amazes you how well Yunho is able to delegate and keep himself afloat. You ask if he's ever had to work late because of really urgent issues and he says he's only had to do it once or twice— most can typically wait until the morning.

"Okay." He says, pulling into a tight, narrow street to start looking for parking. "We're here."

"I have no idea where we're at."

"Oh." Yunho laughs. "That's good then. More of a surprise for you. But, please keep your expectations down cause I didn't do much."

"Stop. Don't say things like that. I'll love it either way." Yunho smiles as he turns another corner and finds a spot right away. He parks flawlessly next to the curb, shutting off his car before turning back to you. 

"Ready?" You nod quietly, watching as Yunho hops out and does a light jog over to open the door for you. You give him a smile and tug on your coat while Yunho locks his door and leads the way next to you, hand on the small of your back. The walk isn't too far, the restaurant being down on the opposite end of the street, across the block. To your surprise, Yunho brings you to one of the new conveyor belt sushi restaurants. He greets the host and he immediately takes you back to a little booth near the belt. It's snug enough to fit two people. 

"I'm excited." You look at Yunho and he laughs.

"Same, I could eat. You like sushi, right? Please tell me I didn't fuck up." He looks concerned for a moment.

"No, no. I love sushi. I actually haven't had it in so long." You rearrange your set up so you can eat comfortably, the waiter taking your order for drinks. You both ask for water, but before the waiter can walk off, Yunho suddenly asks for two glasses of hot sake. 

"Thank you." He says, giving the waiter a curt nod.

"Sake?"

"Our little celebration for getting through the week."

"Wow, okay. Touché. I can get behind that." You look at him. "My birthday's coming up. You should come out with Mingi and Seonghwa. We're heading out to the club." You pause before shaking your head. "Or, actually, I'm being forced to go to the club to celebrate."

"Forced, hm?" He laughs. "That sounds fun, though. Send me the details. We'll definitely try to celebrate with you."

"Might be fun. We can be a fun group of people."

"Yeah?" Yunho likes that, you're down for things and he can tell you go with the flow. He likes someone who can just have fun with him. Someone who can just be with him; it wouldn't matter where they go or where their relationship takes them.

"Mhm. And I can tell you guys are fun." You laugh. "Seora must love having you as her dad."

"I hope so." Yunho laughs along. "By the way, feel free to start digging in." He gestures towards the moving conveyor belt and you happily start exploring your options as they come— taking a fresh plate of salmon nigiri to start off. The waiter quickly comes back with two glasses of hot sake, making Yunho smirk at you. He sets his chopsticks down and slides your glass over, raising his while you take yours. "Cheers? For getting through the week."

"Cheers!" You say cheerfully, tapping your glass against his before taking some of the hot sake down your throat. It burns, but the heat brings more warmth to your body on this cold evening. "Speaking of Seora, where is she right now now?" You drink a bit more before taking another plate off the belt.

"Spending time with her Uncle Mingi."

"That's cute." Yunho grabs a few plates and sets them aside while he decides which one he'll tackle first.

"She had practice and I had him go pick her up. I think they were heading to the grocery store to buy some ingredients for dinner before heading home last time he texted me."

"What did you tell her?"

"Mm." He hums. "I hope you don't take it personally or anything, but I told her it was a team dinner."

"No, of course not."

"I just, yeah." He chuckles a bit. "It's just easier to go with that."

"I believe it." The both of you continue to eat away at the sushi, small, empty plates piling up on the side of the table. Small conversations continue about day-to-day life; you and your friends, what you've been doing for yourself lately. Suddenly, you dwell on the fact that you don't know much about Yunho besides his day-to-day life with Seora and work. You know about his friends, his coworkers. But, you don't know anything deeper about his personal life.

His parents.

You didn't wanna be nosy and pry, but you wondered why his parents weren't the ones watching Seora. 

Was it too much of you to ask?

Was this considered a real date if you two weren't trying to get to know each other? What were the boundaries?

"Yunho?"

"What's up?"

"Can I ask you something more personal?"

"Anything."

"I hope I'm not crossing boundaries here, but what about your parents? How come they don't watch Seora?"

"You're not crossing any boundaries." Yunho reassures you, but shakes his head before dipping into his next plate of sushi. "Uh, it's complicated. Things kinda just fell apart when Eunha passed." You slowly nod. "When my parents found out Eunha was pregnant, they didn't want us to continue with the pregnancy cause we were, what? 20 years old when we found out? Still in the midst of college. But, that's not what we wanted. They almost got to Eunha but we pushed through in the end and we had Seora. It was really hard for a long, long time, but Seora was worth every bit of it. My parents obviously didn't like the fact that we went against their wishes, so they kept their distance. It's been that way ever since, even when Eunha passed. I think it got worst, actually. Plus, I never had the best relationship with them from the get-go. They only see Seora once in a blue moon. They're the grandparents that just send the occasional bouts of money, birthday and holidays cards. Seora always wonders about them, but I can never give her an answer as to why her grandparents aren't around." 

"I'm sorry, Yunho."

"Don't be sorry." Yunho smiles a bit.

"W-what about Eunha's parents?" You wanna ask about Eunha too, but you know this isn't the time.

"Uh, they're the same. They—" He pauses. "They cut off ties when she passed because it was too hard for them."

"Oh. Yunho." You say sympathetically, feeling incredibly bad for having brought it up in the first place. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be such a debbie downer during dinner."

"No, it's okay. I promise. I've.. gotten used to it at this point. It used to be hard for me, but I've accepted everything."

"Still doesn't mean it doesn't get hard for you."

"I've learned to manage." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

"I hope you know you're doing an amazing job balancing everything and for being a great father to Seora."

"Thanks." 

"I'm also glad you have Seonghwa and Mingi."

"Me too." He laughs. "They're a pain in my ass, but they're my bestfriends. I don't think I would have been able to get through a lot without them. And they're good to Seora."

"That's good, I'm glad." You eat a bit more before you feel yourself getting content and full.

"Full?"

"Damn near. I think I ate too fast." You chuckle. "I'm almost done with my sake."

"Bottoms up?" You nod, tapping your glass against his before the both of you take it to the neck. Yunho finishes up a few more plates before he sits back and gulps his water down, causing you to giggle to yourself. "Fuck, I'm full. Overdid it, for sure."

"Was worth every bit of it, though. Maybe we should walk it off?"

"Yeah. Let's head to the next stop. I think you'll like it. And we'll get our steps in." He pulls his wallet out of his pocket, calling the waiter over.

"Can I split with you?"

"Absolutely not." Yunho says, handing over his card directly to him.

"You're already driving me everywhere and taking me to another location after this. The least I can do is chip in."

"Nope. The least you can do is just enjoy yourself with me tonight." He smiles sweetly just as he grabs the receipt handed to him by the waiter, signing off and tucking his own copy swiftly into his pocket before looking at you. 

"Couldn't even let me see the receipt."

"Nope." He repeats and stands. "Ready to go, pretty girl?" You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you stand and nod, leading the way out of the restaurant with Yunho in tow. He answers your questions on the way to the car, giving you hints about the next location. It still leaves you stumped in the end, deciding to let Yunho continue taking matters into his own hands with you. He opens the door like the gentleman he is, slipping into the driver's seat as he rubs his hands together and immediately turns the heat on when he starts the car. "All good? Too hot?"

"Just perfect."

"Good." You sit back comfortably as Yunho sets off for the next destination for tonight. "So, how was the sushi? Be honest."

"It was so good!" He looks at you when he comes to a red light, almost as if he's trying to read you, really read you, and you giggle. "What?"

"Just making sure."

"That I'm not lying?"

"Maybe." You laugh even more.

"I would never. If I didn't enjoy it, I would've given an honest review."

"Mmkay, I believe you." He laughs. "I want you to have a good night with me."

"I am already." You look at him with a soft expression. "And I'm sure the next part to this will be just as fun. If not, more. I trust you."

"Do you?"

"I do." Yunho smiles, wanting to hold your hand so badly while he drives. But, he doesn't. He holds back. He feels like there could be a better opportunity.

One that'll feel right and set the mood for the remainder of the night.

For this entirely.

After a good 20 minutes of driving down south, Yunho exits off the freeway and takes an immediate right down towards a large-sized building with all modern exterior designs. He parks in the lot next to it, doing his gentleman deed of helping you out of the car and leading you towards the beautiful building.

It's one of the city's biggest museums, and the event they're hosting for a couple of weeks is called Spirit House. It focuses on Asian American and Asian diasporic artists that are showcasing art pertaining to horror, spirits, haunted houses, reincarnation, different dimensions and other themes along those lines. You continue to read the pamphlet before Yunho looks at you with a small smile on his face.

"Wanna walk around?" You nod.

"How'd you know I'd be into this stuff?"

"It sounded cool, so why not?"

"You're good, Jeong Yunho." You giggle and continue into the first part of the exhibit. The atmosphere is dark and dim, the artwork on the walls screaming afterlife. Death. Souls. Horror, fear. You're so intrigued that you find yourself slowly moving from work to work; trying to take in all the details of the images in front of you. You didn't even realize Yunho had been watching you from behind, snapping photos every chance he could before moving onto the next room to get a preview of what's to come.

"Hey." Yunho says from behind you. "Wanna show you something in the next room." 

"Okay." You look down at the hand he puts out, waiting for you to take it. You gently slide your hand in his, fingers intertwining before he guides you to the next exhibit and it feels incredibly natural. It's a room full of mini fixtures— almost like miniature set-ups of old fashioned homes and other buildings. He shows you one that has the artist's own adaptation of Junji Ito characters spread across levels of an old, haunted house.

"Oh my god, I love it." You peek down to get a closer look, hand still laced with Yunho's. "I love Junji Ito. And the work in the other room reminded me of Takato Yamamoto. It's amazing."

"Made for you." You chuckle, tugging him along as you both look at the next miniature setups alongside of it. Yunho doesn't even mind one bit. He's enjoying the exhibit, but he's enjoying it even more with you here— holding his hand every step of the way. You snap a few photos of the art before Yunho directs you to stand near one of the exhibits where the lighting falls on you perfectly. He takes a few more photos— more candid ones from behind you especially— just so you have photos to look back at when you wanna reminisce on your first date with him.

The next room of the exhibit is an interactive light show; the  room is completely dark, with different lights projecting things around the room. The background music is mysterious, creepy; fitting the vibe all together. You continue to walk with Yunho while snapping photos of your silhouettes in the mirrors. Yunho gets silly and makes a bunch of poses, making you laugh loudly in the process. At one point, you've found yourself standing near the corner of the room, watching all the lights come together to project a beautiful show onto the walls. Yunho comes next to you, admiring the same view— but you, mainly. You look up at him to tell him how amazing the event is, but he's already looking down at you with fondness and endearment sprinkled in his big brown orbs.

You almost.. wanna kiss him.

But, you shake off the thought quickly by dragging him to the next exhibits— loosely holding his hand throughout the rest of the event.

Too bad he would've kissed you back, had you known.

No, he needs to be a gentleman and he needs to do right by you, Yunho thinks. He can't just kiss you on the first date or else he runs the risk of you thinking he only wants you for one thing.

Like Ara; but, that situation is a little different.

"Yunho! That was so fun." You smile at him the way you do, and it melts his heart. "Thank you for taking me to this."

"Of course. I think it ends after the weekend, so perfect timing." You quickly scroll through some of the pictures you took. "I'll send you the pictures I have later."

"Okay." You look at the buskers on the opposite end of the street, along with a food cart nearby. "Yunho, let's go check it out really quickly!"

"I'm down." He nods, noticing it's only about to hit 10pm. Seora must be waiting for him, but he knows she'll sleep until he gets there and Mingi hasn't made a peep. He feels like he's in the clear.

He holds your hand tightly as you both cross the street safely, stopping near the food cart first while lightly bouncing to the live music nearby.

"Want a snack?" You nod and cling onto his arm.

"I could use one. Museum took up my energy." He laughs. Yunho buys some custard-filled bungeoppang for you two to snack on while observing the buskers. You bounce along next to him and he starts to dance in his own way, making you laugh at how cute he's being with you. You snap a few photos of him that you'll share later, not knowing Yunho had a bunch of your photos to share as well.

You and Yunho sing along to some familiar songs before the buskers end the first half of their performance for a tiny break.

"That was cool. They did really well!"

"They were so good!" You toss in some cash into the guitar case. "And I didn't know you could sing!"

"I— no." Yunho laughs.

"I wanna hear more of your singing." You pout as you tug on his arm on the way back to the car.

"Maybe."

"Yunho." You whine and he laughs.

"I promise you it's nothing that great."

"Very much the opposite of what I think, just so you know." He stands by the passenger door, allowing you to hop in but he doesn't close the door right away. He stands and looks at you and there's something in his eyes that you can't really read.

"I hope you enjoyed it."

"I did. A lot." He licks his lips, and you can tell he's having the same internal battle you had not too long ago in the light exhibit. But, he brushes it off by tapping the door frame before shutting your door gently and hopping into his seat. 

The drive home is as expected; with you and Yunho talking about your similar music tastes this time and Yunho being a bit more open about his vocals. You look at him as he sings a tune or two, explaining that his dad is the one with the vocals in the family. You tease that next time, you two should go to a karaoke bar to end the night and he smirks.

At least you're thinking about next time's just like he is, too.

When he pulls up to your apartment, you find yourself not wanting to part from him. You know he has to go home to Seora though, and it breaks your heart knowing she's been waiting for her dad to come home. You step out of the car and tug on your coat, the night colder than it was a few hours ago.

"Welp, this is me." You both look at the apartment building, with Yunho tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Let me walk you up."

"No, it's okay. I promise it's right there." You point at your apartment before chuckling and turning to him completely. "Goodnight, Yunho. Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun."

"You're welcome, Y/N." He watches as you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushes, and he loves the initiation, but he freezes. Completely. 

"I'll see you next week, hm? Get home safely." You smile toothlessly at him before turning on your heel to walk up to your unit. Just as you're about to make it up the steps, Yunho is chasing after you with long strides, causing you to turn and raise a brow. "Did I leave something?"

"Mm, maybe." He says with a tiny smirk on his face. Suddenly, his large, warm hands come up to cup your cheeks— lips capturing yours in a sweet goodnight kiss. "Goodnight." You smile up at him as his thumb caresses the surface of your right cheek.

"Night." He steps back, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from smiling too big. He lingers around until he sees you successfully slip into your unit and hears the door shut close.

What he doesn't see is the way you squeal and dig your face into your hands, incredibly giddy and happy from the turn of events.

You really liked Yunho.

And he does, too.

So much that the smile doesn't even fade when he pulls up to the house, Mingi's car leaving enough room for him to park in his usual spot. Yunho can see the faint flickering of the TV lights through the kitchen window, and he knows Seora is probably on the couch waiting for his arrival.

When he steps through the door, Mingi is placing some food into the fridge before returning his attention to the remaining dishes in the sink. He quietly greets his bestfriend before nodding towards the couch— signaling that Seora had fallen asleep while waiting.

"Has it been long?" Yunho asks lowly.

"A bit, yeah. She said practice was exhausting today." Yunho chuckles before crouching down in front of the couch and brushing her hair back.

"Ace." Her eyes slowly flicker open.

"Oh, finally. You're back." He laughs.

"Let's get to bed, hm?" She sleepily nods, sitting up before walking to her bedroom. "Say bye to uncle Mingi."

"Love you, ace!" Mingi calls out as he watches her sleepily walk across the living room.

"Love you too. Goodnight." She mutters and lazily waves before dragging herself into her room and shutting the door. It isn't long before Yunho sees her shut off the lights, causing him to turn the volume down on the TV before helping Mingi clean up.

"So, how was it?" Yunho smiles.

"Good." He avoids eye contact as he blushes, setting the dry dishes into the cabinet.

"Good?"

"Yeah."

"Meaning?" Mingi rests against the corner before smirking at him. " I have time."

"I really, really like her."

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[lila-went-missing]

reader AND vis first time

I saw this and got so excited to write it I'm not even gonna lie.

Warnings: Smut (duh), fluff at the end, switch Vi (kinda), body worship. Lmk if I missed anything.

Vi's body slotted perfectly on top of yours, like two pieces that were missing from a puzzle.

Her weight on top of you quickly turned into one of your favorite sensations. Her chest pressed against yours. That's exactly where she is now. Her arms rest on either side of your head, one hand cupping your cheek. Your tongues slide against each other in a sloppy but unbelievably passionate kiss.

You gasp as her knee presses against you.

"Fuck, VI." She breathes out a chuckle against your lips.

"Feel good Cupcake?"

"Mhm.." Her mouth moves to your neck, licking and sucking at your pulse point. A hand grips your hip and pulls you up against her.

Her own shirt is thrown off somewhere, you don't bother looking where. Not when her bare chest is right in front of your face. You sit up, legs caging her in. You pull her waist up against you and attach your lips to one of her nipples.

You lick and suck, pinching the other with your hand. Hickies are sucked into the surrounding skin. Vi isn't a super vocal person, usually letting out small grunts and huffs. But now whimpering more than you've ever heard her. You would've done this a long time ago if you had known her tits were this sensitive.

"Mmh shit Cupcake, keep doing that."

How could you ever say no to her?" You switch your mouth and hand sides, giving her exactly what she wants. Her hand cradles the back of your head, short nails scratching at your scalp.

After a few seconds she pulls you away, attaching her mouth back to yours. Your hands grope at her tits, unable to pull away.

"I've never- I've never done this before." She tells you. It's not often you see Vi looking nervous, but right now, she does.

"Me neither." You tell her. Something in her face changes and you can tell she isn't as worried. "We can go slow." Your hands slow down with your words, as if proving it.

She nods and crawls back on top of you, slower this time. It's nice, not as rushed. The feeling of her body relaxed against you makes you happier than anything else has in a while. You're more aware of how warm she is, how soft her skin is.

She pulls your own shirt over your head. Her hands drag over your body with more appreciation than you've ever felt from a man. Probably why you always left them way before anything started.

"You're so beautiful, baby." She eyes your chest before showing you the same attention you showed her. It's your turn to run your hand through her hair, lightly pulling it.

She works her hands at your belt, pulling your pants down your legs.

"Can I taste you, baby? Please?" You can't deny her anything, especially not with that desperate and whiny tone in her voice.

You nod but she's already pulling your panties down and diving her tongue into your pussy. Her hands wrap around her thighs, your thighs wrap around her head. She decides then and there that if she ever were to suffocate, this is how she would want to go out.

You've never felt anything like this. There's a warmth in your belly pulling tight as she goes. Her tongues switch's between kitten licking and suckling at your clit to fucking against your g-spot inside of you.

Time ceases to exist, she could've spent anywhere from a minute to a thousand years between your legs. You wouldn't know the difference.

Just when that coil is about to snap, she's pulling back and licking her lips.

"Vi..." Any other time you'd be embarrassed of how whiny you are, but not tonight. She's slipping her own bottoms off and slotting her legs in between yours.

"I want you to come against my pussy." She mutters against your lips.

Holy shit.

Those might be the hottest words you've ever heard in your life but you wouldn't know. Because the second her clit catches against yours you lose any memory that she isn't in.

It's fiery in a way you've never felt. The pleasure is all consuming, wrapping around your limbs pulling you into her. Your hands grab her hips, keeping her up against you. Your own hips buck up into her, amplifying the pleasure.

"Oh my- gosh Violet." You choke out. Her own voice is whimpering out. You hear the word "fuck" multiple times.

"Oh, Cupcake please.. you're so wet, fuck baby. You feel so good."

You throw your head back into the pillows. You wanted to last a lot longer than this but that's just not possible. Not with the way she's grinding her dripping pussy against yours. The sound of your juices mixing together is so lewd it throws you over the edge.

"You gonna cum for me? Come on, cum on my fucking pussy baby. Let me have it."

You don't remember anything that you say. Your orgasm is so powerful that you black out. You faintly hear the words coming out of her own mouth, but you know she's having an orgasm just as powerful.

She falls on top of you, arms wrapping around your waist. Yours come up around her back. You trace the ink of her tattoo, more content than you've been in a while.

Her lips press into your neck. It isn't sexual, just loving. You wouldn't have it any other way.

"I love you." You tell her, honestly.

"I love you." You know she's being honest too.

[agonyoftherose]

On the Way to a Smile

౨ৎ dark! rafe cameron x f! reader (16k)

summary: in the wake of your wedding, you are haunted by a man from your past.

warnings: implied non con/drugging, cheating

🎃 " ultimate self indulgent yap fic, be prepared (reupload from like a year ago if anyone recognises this, I edited the shit out of it lol ... I miss writing for rafe :,3)"

i.

"What's all this?"  

Strewn across the Cameron's dining table was an array of objects which could only be described as a mixed blessing. Multiple binders containing silk swatches protruding from the edges, sticky notes with potential dietary requirements, and different flora species – planning a wedding was less of a journey and more of a ride. 

Averting your burning eyes from your laptop screen, you acknowledged Rafe with a cordial smile, lazily gesturing to the conglomeration of wedding itinerary. 

"My future." 

The blonde simply hummed, eyes narrowing as he leisurely rounded the dark oak to stand beside you. He silently lingered there for a moment, ring clad fingers dancing across the drafted invitations with an indecipherable expression. 

"Where's Sarah? Ain't she supposed to be helping you with all this shit?" 

You refrained from rolling your eyes. Rafe was, after all, a friend of the family, and by extension earned your respect. Even If he could be a complete dick–

"I am helping, thank you very much!" 

Sarah's voice, now tinged with irritation, reverberated from the pantry before she emerged with a bag of microwave popcorn. "What do you have to offer other than giving us a headache?" A deep crease settled between her brows as she threw her flaxen locks into a low ponytail, setting the bag into the microwave. 

"Well you see, Sarah, I'm a man with a fine eye for detail." He prodded his haughtily puffed chest which Sarah scoffed at, glancing towards you with disbelief. 

"Says the boy who'd be leaving the house with his shoelaces undone were it not for Wheezie." 

"Now you're just making shit up–"

"Both of you, please!" With an exasperated sigh you cradled your throbbing temples in the seat of your palms. "If you're going to argue, do it somewhere else."

Ding!

A much needed reprieve from the stifling tension in the room, the microwave beeped, signalling that the popcorn was ready. However, the pause was short-lived. As soon as the timer stopped, the silence was disrupted by Rafe's voice. His tone mocking and derisive.

"Ordering me around in my own house, hm?" His short, dirty blonde locks cascaded over his eyes as he shook his head, failing to conceal his lour. "Nah, that's not how it works sweetheart. Maybe I'd allow it if you were marrying me."

"Rafe." Sarah hissed. "Shut up and get out."

In the typical fashion of the first-born Cameron, Rafe disregarded his sister's command, instead opting to leer down at you like some voracious beast reading to trap you in its gaping maw. 

"So where's the lucky man? He got to stake his claim, now he's leaving all the work for you?" 

You ignored his taunts, for that was what they were. He fed off reactions like a leech. You had come to realise this over the years as he evolved into an obnoxious variant of the boy you once admired. Rather than giving him the attention he craved so dearly, you turned your focus to Sarah as she came to sit beside you. 

"If you must know, he's working to pay off his student loans," You fought the urge to bite back at his spiteful remarks, ultimately losing when you added; "Maybe one day when you take care of your responsibilities, you will understand."

Sarah suppressed her snot beneath a mouthful of popcorn. As you reached for a handful of your own, a hand slid in between, suddenly pushing the bowl out of reach. 

"Careful." Rafe drawled warningly, pointing to a trumpet silhouette dress advertised in a women's magazine you had circled with red marker. "That dress is real pretty, it would be a shame if you outgrew it."

ii.

It was winter, 2006. 

You were five, perched on your mother's lap in the front seat of your father's Chrysler 300C as she consoled you through hiccuping sobs. This Christmas, the esteemed Cameron's were your family's special holiday destination; a far cry from the usual dinner and movie at your grandparents.

Numerous road signs were posted throughout Figure 8, warning drivers to approach the winding roads with caution due to high levels of sleet. Despite the treacherous conditions, your father traversed along as he usually would. You whimpered and pawed at your mother's blouse in a bid to be reassured, but she merely shushed you.

"Don't worry, baby. You're safe."

As you pulled up along a circular drive encompassed by large plains of neatly trimmed verdure, a house came into view… if you could even call it that.

 A quadruple frontage acting as a support beam for the large balcony above donned with red, white and blue flags and multiple seating arrangements. On the right side of the glass entry doors was a metal plaque spelling 'Tannyhill.' 

You beamed up at the place in awe. "Is this a castle?" 

Your father chuckled, ruffling your loose hair. 

"Something like that."

A man emerged from the double doors and you were urged out of the car with a gentle but firm push. The strange man’s beady eyes— like two pale corks screwed into his head— landed on you.

"Hello, little one." His eyes crinkled as he smiled, bending down to your level. "What's your name?"

Your young mind could not fathom why he frightened you, and when he extended his hand you instinctively retreated into your mother's skirt.

"Don't mind her, Ward." Your father emerged from the driver’s side of the vehicle. "She'll warm up real fast if you offer her something sweet."

"A sweet tooth?" The man, Ward, mused. His voice mild-mannered and pleasant to the ear. "My son is the same, I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

Inside, the house was even more impressive. The family’s wealth and prestige was evident in the sheer opulence of its interior. The halls were draped in thick upholstery, varying in shades of crimson, indigo and gold. An ornate floral pattern embroidered in gold thread was meticulously sewn onto the walls. 

Adorning the hallway to the kitchen were multiple picture frames. One in particular caught your interest; a young boy sat on Ward's lap in a velvet-lined chair, smiling and well-groomed with golden locks and a well-pressed collar. 

You wondered if this was the aforementioned son.

Ward's explanation of the Plantation's historical significance fell on deaf ears as you gaped up at the towering ceilings. "You came here once when you were just a little bean in my belly." Your mother poked her stomach, smiling down at you.

"I don't remember that."

She pulled you into her side by the shoulder as she laughed. "Of course you don't, darling." 

Ward came to a halt at the staircase, raising a finger to his lips.

"Sarah's nursery is upstairs. We just got her down before you arrived but I'll let you have a peek."

 "Oh, that’s alright, Ward. We wouldn't want to disturb her." Your father interjected, mirroring Ward’s hushed tone.

"That won't be an issue, my angel is a heavy sleeper," he whispered, motioning for you to follow him with a reassuring wave.

“Rafe's up there at the moment,” Confusion enveloped you as Ward’s previously jovial demeanour dropped. When his stiff gaze met yours, heat bloomed beneath your cheeks and you perked up. “Maybe you can keep him company, little one." 

Upstairs, the first door on the right was painted a faint dusty rose. Above the door frame were little wooden letters decorated by fairies and flowers spelling out ‘Sarah’. The dry hinges screeched as Ward opened the door.

“Rafe, come meet our guests.” 

The boy from the picture emerged, older now and taller. Unlike the bright smile he wore in the photograph, there was not a trace of joy on his face. But despite his gloomy demeanour, there was a certain charm about him that you couldn't help but notice.

Beautiful, he’s beautiful. 

“Hello.” He said robotically, as though the syllables were being tugged out of his mouth by an invisible wire. Ward glared disapprovingly at his son.There was a silent exchange between the two before Rafe finally sighed as if submitting to some sort of inevitable conclusion.

“Merry Christmas, it’s nice to meet you all.” 

His eyes met yours. Crystal orbs of cerulean, framed by a dark outer ring… you were transfixed by his beauty. 

At dinner you sat mute, only answering direct questions. Mrs Cameron was a lovely woman who did her best to include you in the conversation despite your reluctance to participate.You observed Rafe and his father. The tension between the two was thick, oozing onto you from across the table. You made eye contact with Rafe a few times. He held it with no indication of discomfort whilst you were always the one to eventually flit your attention elsewhere, unable to withstand the strange intensity. 

As the maids began to clear the table, Ward suggested to both you and Rafe to go play outside so the adults could have some time to talk.

With the sun making its hasty departure below the treeline in the distance, It had cooled off significantly outside. You trailed behind Rafe as he led you to a small shed next to the pool, struggling to tug your gloves over trembling fingers. 

You waited outside as he disappeared beyond the door frame, returning a few moments later with a black and white ball.

“Do you know how to play?”

The ball was familiar but you shook your head, unsure of the rules. 

“Don’t touch the ball with your hands or make contact with me.” 

“Make contact?” You tilted your head in confusion. 

“Yeah. You can’t kick your enemy on purpose, right?”

You gave a nod– still unsure about why you’d want to kick anyone on purpose– and Rafe tossed the ball at you. The ground was partially frozen beneath your feet and you stumbled backwards with the sudden force of the ball, nearly toppling over. 

“Good, let's play.” 

At first it felt hopeless as you slipped across the icy ground cartoonishly. Rafe’s size, strength and experience did not deter him from going full pelt, and it quickly became apparent that the only way you could gain any leverage over him was if you were to be sneaky– which of course, was easier said than done. 

Every pivot of your foot he anticipated. His agile movements made it nearly impossible to bypass him and you found yourself huffing in frustration as he swiftly confiscated the ball from your weak stance. 

“This is not fair!” You cried exasperatedly, ego depleted after numerous failures.

“You’ve got to try harder if you want to beat me.” 

Rafe’s arrogant tone only stoked the flames of your annoyance. Slowing down, you realised that your frantic footwork left your defences vulnerable. Watching Rafe’s strategy, you could see that he was coming head-on, anticipating that you would focus your resources on an attack. 

This time rather than barreling towards him head-on, you hunkered down into a low stance, turning slightly and awaiting his arrival. Once he was in range, you swiftly kicked your right foot out, connecting with the ball. It shot through his legs, the suddenness of your attack delaying his reaction ever so slightly, allowing you the opportunity to rush past him and possess the ball. 

After the shock wore off and Rafe turned to face you, his face was raised in surprise. “Wow, not bad.” 

“Got you!” You giggled, spinning around in glee. 

“You’re more fun than Sarah.” Rafe earnestly remarked. “She never wants to play. All she does is sleep and cry.”  

“I like playing with you.” 

The corners of his lips tugged upwards, his dour demeanour melting away into a softer grin. 

“Let’s try something different.” He suggested, your stomach clenching in apprehension at the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“...Ok.” 

“You stand over there,” He pointed to a small clearing between two trees, “That is the goal. You have to try and protect it.” 

“Ok.” You giggled, heart thumping in rhythm with your hasty steps. 

“Ready?”

You gave a thumbs up and he backed up. Once he was pleased, he took an initial step before thundering towards the ball, sending it soaring through the air. You were sure that it would not make contact with you as it was well above your head. However, after it had risen, it quickly descended back down with the speed and precision of a hunting eagle. It slammed into the edge of your brow, making contact with a surprising amount of force. Your legs gave way under the pressure as you clutched the spot where the ball hit, eyes tearing up from the impact.

“Ow.” Your voice wobbled as you cradled your head. 

“Oh, oops.” Rafe rushed to kneel beside you, gingerly lifting your chin to inspect your face. “Are you okay?” 

You didn’t respond, and when he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, his entire body stiffened. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, you’re ok.” 

Blinking furiously, you managed to keep it together, but your voice came out as a dry croak. “Am I bleeding?”

“Nah, it’ll just be a little bruise. Nothing to worry about.” 

His assurance dampened your concern, and you nodded. “Even though that really hurt, I still won. The ball didn’t pass the trees!” 

Rafe began to chuckle but was interrupted by the click of the back door. Your mother called your name into the still air. Sniffling, you brushed your hair back into place when his tight grip clasped onto your shoulders, stilling your frantic movements. 

“I was saving this for later,” His voice was hushed now as he removed a lollipop from his back pocket. “But it’s yours if you promise not to tell.” 

Wiping the corner of your eyes, you smiled, “Alright.”

iii.

You froze in front of the mirror.

Floor length, delicately laid seams stretching taut against soft curves, colour perfectly harmonious with your undertones– The dress was a beautiful testament to how far you've come, like a chain binding the past and the present together.

There was just one issue…it wouldn’t zip up the whole way. 

You urged the seamstress to keep trying, tugging the resistant zip until it eventually gave way. It didn't, and on one particularly harsh tug, it got caught and pinched your skin. She apologised before releasing it down and backing off. 

“Your wedding is in a week?” She inquired, glancing over your frame insouciantly.

“Yes, Saturday week.”

“I should be able to add some alterations to the back in that time.” 

This did not completely assuage your concerns. “What if there’s nothing you can do? Or the alteration destroys the style of the dress? Is there another alternative?” 

Her smile was solemn as she met your gaze in the reflection. “Well, I suppose the only other suggestion I can make is to move more and eat less.”

You pressed your lips together before stepping out of the changing room into the harshly lit waiting space. Your mother’s eyes immediately widened as she shot off the couch with a mixture of admiration and concern concocting within her irises.  

“Oh, Darling. The dress is beautiful, but you don’t look happy. What’s the matter?”

“There is a slight issue…with the back.” The seamstress sighed, urging you to turn. 

Your mother attempted to stifle her gasp beneath a freshly manicured hand. She skittered forward brushing delicate fingers over the fabric, prodding and pushing at the broad opening. 

“Mum,” You groaned. “Just be honest with me, how bad is it?” 

“Well, it’s about two inches so it’s not unnoticeable.” A crease formed in her brow as she inspected you, momentarily stuck in thought.  “Have you considered styling your hair down?” 

“Yes, but that's not going to fix the issue.” 

She nodded, turning her attention to the seamstress, “Ma’am, I am willing to pay the price to have my daughter's dress prioritised.” 

Before she could even consider the request, the familiar chime of your phone rang out, breaking your dazed stupor. As you peered at the screen you sighed softly. “Sorry, I’ll just answer this.”  

Shuffled back into the changing room, you swiped the accept button on the call after clicking the lock shut. “Hey sweetheart, how’s it going at the shop?” 

A pit swelled within your stomach. “Things could be better.”

“Is there an issue? Last time you couldn’t have sounded happier.” Thomas’s voice was laced with concern, the image of his deep-set frown flashing into your mind.

“I mean, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Just a minor issue with the beading.”

“Alright then, so it could be worse? Regardless, I’m sure you look beautiful.”

“You’re kind of required to say that, y’know, as my fiance.” You chuckled softly.

“Required or not doesn’t make a difference if I mean it all the same.”

The impressive weight of the dress’s train dragged the bodice down with it as it cascaded into a pile of limbs on the floor. A chuffed smile melded onto your face.  “Was there any real purpose to this call?” 

“Depends on what you count as purposeful. I wanted to hear my beautiful fiancé’s voice…and ask what other plans she has for the day?”

This time you snorted. “I’m supposed to be meeting Edie at the club for lunch. She’s afraid you’ll hog all my attention after the wedding and plans to get me drunk so she can find out all your dirty secrets.” 

“Well she’s not wrong about the first part,” He heartily chuckled. “But try not to reveal too much, I think we’ve had enough rumours spread about us for a lifetime.”

“I’ll do my best. Anyway, I probably should get going, I’m already running late.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later then. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your mother resumed her position on the plush white couch while she waited for you, snapping up as you beckoned for her towards the exit. 

“We discussed options on how the dress could be altered. It seems like the quickest solution will be to make it backless.”

“Honestly at this point, I don’t really care,” A heavy and tired groan escaped your lips as you unlocked your car. “As long as it fits, that's all that matters to me.” 

“Darling,” Her cold grasp caught your arm, forcing you to face her. “I know how you get. Your mind is all over the place, I can see it in your eyes.”

“It’s fine mum, really. I gave up on perfection a long time ago.” 

“Either way, this is your big day and I want you to enjoy it. Don’t let this small mishap ruin it for you, alright?” She sagely advised, rubbing your shoulders in a soothing manner. 

“I won’t. Promise.” Though the smile was forced, you didn’t have it in you to counter her pleading eyes. She hugged you firmly, planting a kiss on your cheek as you parted ways. 

The country club was brimming with familiar faces, each passing by with a nod of the head. In all honesty, you couldn’t remember half of their names, only being acquainted through your parents. Etiquette was an expected part of the club, though, so you returned their superficial pleasantries with an equally superficial smile. 

Allowing your intuition to guide you through the hive-like hallways of the facility, you ended up at the outdoor bar overlooking the course green. That was where you found Edie; fiery tresses flowing loosely over her shoulders, hunched over the bartop as she swirled a glass of glistening rosè. 

“I see you started without me.” 

Without having to turn she squealed as the sound of your voice carried over to her, attracting the attention of curious onlookers. “You made it! I was starting to think you’d bailed on me again.”

“Ed, that was months ago. I think it’s time we move on.”

She hummed and with a light giggle tapped the stool beside her.  “Only if you let me buy you a drink and promise not to complain about the heat.”

“Deal.” 

Nothing ever changed with Edie. Some people would describe her as immature, solidly stuck in the same old adolescent patterns of staying out late, drinking too much and entertaining unsuitable partners out of boredom. But despite the opinion of others, her consistency came as a comfort to you. She knew how to have fun, and this energy never ceased to rub off on you.

“Now I know you’re probably sick of hearing it,” Already knowing where this was going, you rolled your eyes to emphasise how you felt about this turn in the conversation. Her voice was slightly slurred at this point, having gone through half a bottle of prosecco together. If you didn’t keep your wits about you, your tongue would soon become looser than you wished. 

 “But I have to ask–”

“Ed.” Your tone was firm. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

You sighed, leaning back in the stool like a beleaguered outpost, utterly surrendered and defenceless against her incoming onslaught of questions.

“The amount of times you’ve asked me this is making me think you just don’t like him.”

“Babe, you know it’s more complicated than that.” She gently clasped your hand. “If you’re happy, I’m happy, promise…even with his track record.” 

Your muscles stiffened, weighing you down like a heavy stone in your seat. “We put that behind us many years ago.”

“Well yeah,” She reticently continued. “I guess I’m still in the process of forgiving him, though.”

“If I can then I’m sure you have it in you.”

Her viridian eyes continued to pierce into you as she tilted her glass up to glossed lips. Sensing the finality in your tone, she nodded. 

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?” You chortled incredulously. 

“Happy!”

“Yes! Trust me if I wasn’t you’d be the first one to hear about it.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She shimmied her shoulders with a giggle, the previously heavy aura dissipating.

The debate over your love life has been a perpetual thorn in your side. People liked to voice their opinions as though your life was paltry gossip. Not many took the time to consider your perspective, your feelings, your anguish. 

Edie geared the topic of discussion to her latest rendezvous. A welcome change. Her sporadic lifestyle always kept you on your toes, considering there had been no major updates in your life for some time now...  aside from the engagement of course. With the warm buzz pulsating through your veins, nothing could disturb the serene ambience of the club.

Almost nothing. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the two finest women on this island.” Kelce, and that could only mean–

“And if it isn’t our favourite troublesome trio. What brings y'all here this evening?”

Rafe lingered behind his posse like a shadow, his feathery locks tucked beneath a dull grey cap. Though his eyes were shielded by black-out shades, you could sense the burning heat of his gaze from a mile away– your body well attuned to it. 

“Only the same as you two of course. Mind if we join you?”

“Sorry boys, but it’s kind of a girl’s night.” You quickly interjected, masking the unease in your tone with a fleeting smile. 

Edie groaned your name, “Come on, the more the merrier.”

“Yeah come on,” Rafe echoed. “It’s been a while since we last hung out.” And you got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the rest of them.

Kelce and Topper occupied the two stools adjacent to Edie, leaving the last available seat directly beside you. Rafe was entirely isolated from the group, nursing a bitterly scented whiskey cocktail.

His stool made an awful scraping sound as he encroached on your personal space. The thick, solid weight of his thigh nudging into yours caused you to flinch and you could have sworn he smirked at that. 

“So, how’ve you been?” He lazily drawled and you didn’t miss the way he blatantly zeroed in on your ring. 

“The same as always Rafe, but I can’t say that bothers me.”

“No? Y’know that surprises me, you were always so… adventurous. Didn’t think you’d settle for the housewife lifestyle so soon.” 

“You of all people should know that others can change.” You argued with a huff.

“Yeah, but not you.” His chuckle was merely a blank imitation of humour, shamelessly inauthentic.  

“This is kind of unfair. You seem to know my whole life story while I can barely piece yours together these days.” 

“You wanna know what I’ve been doing?” You nodded and he slouched back against the bar stool, taking a hefty swig of his drink and removing his shades with a flick of the wrist. 

“I was at the shops recently, saw your mum,”

“...Ok?” You scoffed, struggling to see the relevance. 

“She says you’ve been acting strange lately, distant, that true?” 

“She always thinks I’m acting strangely.” She also apparently likes to gossip about my personal life.

“Thing is,” He paused for a moment, grimacing as if struggling to formulate the proper words. You knew better. Nothing Rafe did was without reason. “She’s under the impression it’s got something to do with the big day.”

“Are you kidding me?” 

Your heart synchronised with the beat of the music, drowning out all other immaterial noise as it pounded slow and steady in your ears. For the first time that evening, you dared a glimpse into Rafe’s eyes, immediately noticing his pupils dilated to the size of pennies.

“Jesus– Rafe,” You hissed, snatching his chin between your fingers. “I thought you gave up on that shit.”

“Always worryin’ about me.” A humourless laugh floated from his hollow chest. Cool silver dug into the supple flesh of your wrist as he gently pried your hand away. With a bated breath, you snatched the limb from his grasp. 

“Yeah, well someone has to.” You scoffed. Remanence of snow dusted his collar and without thinking you brushed it away, watching as it fluttered into small clouds before dispersing. 

“I did give up on it, by the way,” You frowned as your eyes flitted back up to him, brow raising in disbelief considering the blaring evidence which suggested otherwise. “But something’s been bothering me recently. You know what that is?” 

“No.”

His grin was so juvenile you struggled to fathom how this man-child before you was in actuality a twenty-two-year-old.

He leant forward, resting the weight of his upper body on those muscly thighs, shallow breaths puffing hot and dewy onto your neck. There was no subtlety to his show of bravado. No attempt to hide his objective as the invisible string urged him forward, enabling his crude behaviour. 

He wanted to make you suffer. 

“The fact that I may have been the first man to have you, but in a week… I might not be the last.” 

iv.

Brighton Grammar wasn’t any ordinary school, and it certainly wasn’t for the weak.

On your first day, you witnessed a scrawny boy with streaks of green throughout his locks get tripped in the hallway and laughed at. The next day, he returned with a full head of brown hair. 

His conformity made him dull, sure, but it removed a target off his back. The positive side to being different was that you stood out and the negative was that you stood out. It was a lose-lose situation. 

“I don’t see why you bother with all those clubs and shit.” Rafe dallied beside you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He took it upon himself to chauffeur you between classes, and you didn’t miss the way the crowds parted for him like a proverbial red sea. 

A sense of discomfort washed over you as Rafe’s hallowed presence had both girls and boys alike turning their heads. Then there was just you. Plain old you. It was unfair, like pitting a stone against a diamond.

“I’m trying to find my passion and form connections. You should try it sometime, then maybe you won't be such a grouch.” He snarled and swerved to the side when you reached to pinch his arm. His reaction stirred a playful snicker from your lips. 

“Uh-huh.You talk like my fuckin’ grandma, y’know that?” 

“I guess that means unlike some people I have manners.” He glared at you again, a growing grin nearly breaking his unbothered countenance. “Anyway, I am very capable of making my own decisions and I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“You, capable? That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear.”

“Oh screw you! Starting today I am an independent woman.”

This time he barked out a laugh. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You came to a halt outside the locked classroom, leaning against the bulletin board frame and waving at your classmates as they mingled amongst each other. Rafe snatched the scheduling paper from your hands, snorting when you cursed him for it. 

“General maths with Mr Dubra? Damn, all I can say is good luck.” 

His words registered someplace in your mind, but your attention had ventured elsewhere. Rafe followed your transfixed gaze to the bulletin board; a bright-coloured poster with cursive font drew you in like a moth to a flame. In the centre of the A4 page was a picture of a small collective of students, the boy at the front particularly capturing your attention as his pointed finger directed at you. 

Auditions for Brighton Grammar’s Hamlet are to be held in the auditorium during lunchtime this Thursday! Do you have what it takes thou thespian?

“I think I’ll join the theatre club.” 

Rafe’s expression could only be described as utterly mortified. “Hey if you want to be labelled a fucking loser, be my guest,” He raised his hands in surrender. “I ain't gonna stop you since you’re an ‘independent woman’ now.”

Your attempt to swing at him failed miserably as he dodged your attack with ease. 

Ironically enough, you had been joking. The spotlight never called to you, in fact, the thought of that much attention made your skin crawl. What you were drawn to on the other hand was the underappreciated art of stage crew, the glue that binds a production together. 

But the ironic part of it all was that you did end up joining. For one, pathetic and degrading reason: Thomas Hughes. The boy on the poster.

While you would describe Rafe as universally attractive, Thomas was the kind of handsome that not everyone could appreciate; a somewhat lanky build, eyes deep set into his skull as though he were eternally sleep deprived and unkempt hair tied into a loose bun. 

Most notable however was his aura, one of complete self-assurance and warmth. He was also in Rafe’s year level– the grade above you –and you were certain the blonde would not approve… which made it all the more thrilling. 

And for the sole reason of your silly little schoolgirl crush, you found yourself itching to get out of class after fourth period on Thursday. Unbeknownst to the pack of hounds you liked to call friends. 

“You coming to lunch?” Topper asked as you passed him in the hallway, heading in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. 

You shook your head with an affable grin. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Rafe won’t be happy.” 

“Remind me to give a fuck.” 

The auditorium was located on the west wing of the school, an old block which had been neglected by the school's previous funding. The heavy double doors creaked as you pushed through them, eyes momentarily adjusting to the dim lighting. 

At the front of the stage sat a panel. Some students, some older, presumably teachers. You took a seat a few rows behind them, intent on simply observing. 

There were six others in the crowd, bouncing their knees and fidgeting with their jewellery anxiously. All apart from one girl who sat up straight. She caught your intrigued gaze and shot you an unmistakably dirty look. 

Great.

Thomas emerged from the right wing shortly after clasping a manila folder. “What a turnout, huh? Now as you probably all know, I will be starring as Hamlet–” The audience erupted in a fit of claps and he bent over into a small bow.

“Thank you, thank you, I am honoured. But more importantly, we are in desperate need of an Ophelia, Gertrude and a Polonius. The show can not go on without them! So I invite you all today to give it your best shot.” 

He gave a cue to someone in the light box and the overhead fresnels were adjusted to a neutral glow. “Well then, I don’t see any point in keeping you all waiting. Who would like to go first?”

The girl who gave you the hostile look held her hand up with little hesitation. “Alright, thank you Cindy. The stage is all yours.” 

Cindy, as you now came to know her, strode up the steps, hips swaying confidently like a lioness on the prowl. She was offered a script but turned it down, “I’ve memorised this act.” A redhead girl in the crowd scoffed, shaking her head. 

As Cindy began, you took note of the dip in her cadence as it transitioned from her naturally firm voice to something delicate and wispy. She had an interesting way of manoeuvring across stage, light footed movements carrying her graciously on the wooden surface akin to a small cloud conquering the great big sky. As her performance came to an end, the panel of judges clapped and hooted, and she hid her face in the palms of her hands as it turned notably red.  

Thomas offered his hand to help her off the stage, “Great job Cindy! Although I would add for you to maybe tone down on the crazy. It is only the beginning of the play, Ophelia is still fairly sane.” 

The gleam in her eyes faltered slightly. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

“If there is a next time, don’t get too cocky.” Thomas spoke without looking up from his notes, missing the way her jaw fell open in surprise. 

“Who’s next?”

The room was swept into silence, everyone glancing around with hesitation. 

“You in the back!” Your head snapped upwards, heart dropping instantly, and you awkwardly gestured to confirm that he was indeed referring to you despite the burning of eyes trained on you like being under a spotlight. “Yes, you. Since no one else was brave enough to volunteer, I nominate you.”

“Oh, well I wasn’t actually going to audition. I was just interested in seeing how this all…works.” You chuckled nervously. 

“Nonsense! We don’t bite, do we?” A chorus of ‘no we don'ts’’ echoed in the large space. “Besides, it’s worth a shot. Some people are naturals, you’ll never know if you don’t give it a go.” 

It wasn’t like you couldn’t refuse. These were theatre kids not abductors with a gun held to your head. But there was an indescribable intensity radiating off of them, as if they could sense the refusal on the tip of your tongue, and for the first time you felt the agonising weight of what your mother would call peer pressure.

 “Alright, why not.”

“That’s the spirit!” You were ushered up to the stage before you had the chance to reconsider, face burning and legs trembling. Thomas’s fingers scraped against yours as he handed over the script. You breath momentarily hitched and you flinched as though a spark of electricity had been transferred between you. 

“Just read what’s been highlighted, the other shit isn’t necessary.” 

You nodded, mumbling in recognition as you noticed that at least two quarters of the page had been highlighted in yellow. 

Inhaling deeply, you centred your focus on the script, attempting to block out the sets of eyes trained on you. You opened your mouth…and laughed. A painstakingly timorous noise which could only be controlled by slapping a hand over your traitorous lips. 

 “I’m sorry, this feels so unnatural to me.” 

“No need to apologise, we’ve all been there,” Thomas’s tone was earnest, void of any judgement and this quelled the pin pricking sensation circulating through your extremities slightly. “How ‘bout we read through the scene first so you have a better understanding of it. Shakespearean language can be a real bastard if you’re not used to it.”

You giggled at his jocose attitude, relief washing over you like a damp cloth. “I think that would help, thank you.”

From what you gathered the scene went as follows: Ophelia's father Polonius and her brother Laertes say their good-byes, warning her not to trust Hamlet’s promises of love and ordering her not to see him again.

Although you still admired her performance, Thomas’s criticism of Cindy’s portrayal made much more sense now. Though Ophelia is famously driven to madness later on in the play– accumulating in her untimely and equally ambiguous end– at this stage of the story, she is merely a heartstruck girl observing the world through rose tinted lenses. 

“Good to go?”  

“I think so.”

“Alright everyone! Give it up for…sorry, what’s your name?”

Your voice echoed with a newfound confidence and the crowd repeated it in a cheer. Perhaps you had been wrong, maybe you did like the spotlight, only you’d never given it the proper chance. 

Mimicking Cindy, you adopted a higher pitch. Not shrill but a pleasant touch of feminine; soft and delicate. You ambled across the stage, not in the same floaty manner she had employed but instead surefooted, conveying Ophelia’s clear mindedness at this stage of the play. Unlike Cindy, however, you did not have the lines down, forcing you to take a slower approach. But this seemed to work in your favour, your slowed speech giving you plenty of opportunity to focus on your facial expressions, ensuring that they matched to what was being described in the cues. 

As your performance wrapped up and the adrenaline steadily receded, you couldn’t resist fixating on Thomas in the crowd who gazed up at you as though you hung the moon and stars in the sky. 

And for the first time at your godforsaken school, you felt seen.

v.

The hum of silence echoed in the Cameron’s dining room, encompassing the yellow walls in a damp sheen which refused to dry. Silver cutlery clinked against delicate porcelain, and as you picked away at your food, Rose smiled at you from across the table. 

“Rafe tells us that you’re going to be in the school’s performance, what was the name–” 

“Hamlet.” The blonde blankly interrupted, and you were surprised that he even knew that. “She’s playing the girl who kills herself.” 

Ward hummed in interest, passing you the salad bowl. “That's excellent news. Theatre was a thriving business in my generation but it seems to have become somewhat of a dying art. Good on you for keeping it alive.” 

“Well I didn’t exactly plan on joining, it just kind of happened–”

“She’s got a thing for the main guy, Tobias or some shit, that’s why she auditioned.”

“Rafe!” He grunted as you nudged his shin, lips peeling into a provoking smirk at your scolding. 

“You gonna tell me I’m wrong?” He teased with a venomous undertone only you seemed to register, and your eyes narrowed at him.

“I want to see, I want to see, who’s this guy?” Sarah wheedled with her big brown eyes. 

“Shut up, Sarah–” 

“Rafe! Do not speak to your sister that way.” Ward’s voice boomed like a deafening clap of thunder, and once his pulsating anger settled, a small cry erupted from Wheezie who tried to conceal her tears beneath a dotted napkin. Rose was quick to placate the young girl with promises of dessert, whisking her off into the kitchen but not before refilling her glass of chardonnay. 

Once they were out of sight, Ward beckoned Sarah to clamber onto his lap, folding her small face into his broad neck before regarding his son with a scalding glare. “Look at what you’ve done.”

The interaction was unsettling to say the least, but not uncommon. Rafe’s lips pinched shut. In the face of his father’s wrath, he would always detract from his usual tough persona, retreating into the shell of a wounded puppy. You didn’t blame him. Ward could be cruel with no regard for the effect his words had on his son, and you loathed him for his blatant favouritism. 

You reached for his hand underneath the table, intertwining the cold extremity with your own. He flinched at first, aggressively flicking his head toward you. But as you gave it a gentle squeeze he seemed to catch on to your intention and his body fell back into a relaxed state. 

You tried to be there for Rafe as much as you could, but despite your efforts, the void left by an absent father was irreplaceable. You could only try your best, but sometimes you had to put yourself first, even if that meant neglecting the needs of those closest to you. 

The production was a much bigger commitment than you initially imagined. Rehearsals pulled you from classes multiple times a week and you began to worry that it could potentially detract from your other subjects. But as a young woman, the possibility of it reeling you from your scholarly responsibilities was not quite as concerning as it was that you felt you were failing at your duties as a friend. 

It had been raining consistently for the past five days. Endless bouts of downpour during spring which thickened the soil and left the air with an unpleasantly muggy tinge. You and Rafe slouched against the linoleum floors of the school gymnasium, slightly obscured from view by the red curtains of the wall length window. He shut your concerns of being caught down by offering you a swig of whatever concoction he’d brought onto school premises.

“How about instead of getting your tiddies in a twist about it, you have some and relax.”

Classic Rafe. 

But you did end up having some, because as soon as he began ranting you knew it was necessary for your own mental wellbeing. 

“You better fucking be there ‘cause there’s no way I can deal with all those old farts on my own.”  

“Am I even invited?” You grimaced as the bitter taste invaded your tastebuds, eagerly handing the flask back, to which he condescendingly snorted. 

A gathering with Ward and his highly esteemed guests could only entail boredom to a deadly degree. Even thinking about it made you yawn, but on the other hand, you would feel bad if Rafe had to endure it on his own.  

“Dad says you're more than welcome, he likes having you around,” He let out a small chuckle, ruffling his short bangs. “He says you keep me sane, like we’re an old married couple or some shit.”

At that, you couldn’t help but barked out in laughter. “Yeah right. Say we ever did hypothetically get married, one of us would probably end up killing the other.”

 He huffed, eyeing you scrupulously. In that moment you wished you could climb into his brain to know what he was thinking. There was a brief awkward pause before you cleared your throat and asked, “Wait, when did you say this was again?” 

“Friday, afterschool…why?” He asked suspiciously. 

“Shit, Rafe–”

“Nah. You gotta be fucking kiddin’ me, again. They can’t keep you after school on a Friday! That’s criminal.”

“I know, trust me I agree.”

“Don’t go then.” He countered with a raised brow, testing you. 

“I would If I could, you know that. But there’s two weeks till the show, there’s just too much to do.” 

“Sure, whatever you say.” He lifted the silver cylinder back up to his lips, taking a long swig. 

“Rafe,” You sighed, trying to reason with him. “Please don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry–”

You were cut off as the doors to the gym groaned, opening to reveal the last person you expected to see.

Thomas. 

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” He seemed surprised to see you, but even more surprised to see you with Rafe, eyes flickering between you with confusion. 

“Hi Thomas, we were just,” His attention flitted down to the flask, incriminating evidence that you quickly swept beneath Rafe’s folded leg, “Uh, what are you doing here? Never took you as the sporting kind.”

Shit, that was bad. As if Rafe was thinking the same thing, he snorted out a laugh. You wanted to crumble right then and there.

Thomas seemed to find your comment amusing, however, bowing his head as he chortled. “Damn, it’s that obvious, huh? But nah, I’m just tryna help Cindy find her phone. I would ask what you guys are up to, but…well I don’t really wanna know.” 

“Ah, well I hope she finds it. We didn’t see anything, did we, Rafe?”

“Nope.” He popped his ‘p’ when answering, and you frowned, unimpressed by his cavalier attitude. “Hey man, why don’t you join us?” 

Rafe tilted his head at Thomas in what would appear to the average eye as a friendly gesture but you knew better.

“I would. But as I said, I gotta–”

“Oh c'mon, I’m sure she could do with the detox.”

“Uh…”

“Is that a yes?” He gestured toward you, “She won’t mind. In fact I think she’d much to prefer to hang out with you than me–”

Classic Rafe. 

You desperately waved your hands at Thomas, attempting to damage control before he had the opportunity to make the situation even more awkward. “Don’t listen to him, he’s way too used to getting his way. Go if you need to.”

A brief glint of relief flashed across Thomas’s features, and like a rabbit caught in a cage he ceased the opportunity you provided to flee. “You’re right, I really ought to go. Thanks for the offer though, man. See you both around.” 

As soon as the doors clicked shut again, you wasted no time. Rafe didn’t even attempt to defend himself against your slew of attacks, simply taking your weak hits for what they were.

“What the fuck was that?” You finally hissed out once you’d calmed down. 

“What was what?”

“Don’t be a moron, are you trying to embarass me?” 

“Oh, sorry for being a good wingman.” His shrug was insouciant, further frustrating you. 

“What you’re being is a pain in my ass.” 

He didn’t react to that in the way you expected. Generally he found the humour in your insults, but this time a coldness you weren’t accustomed to receiving glazed over his eyes.

“You really like this guy, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the shit. You’ve only ever acted like this with that kid who proposed to you in the sandpit.” As you stood he sighed, realising you were refusing to engage in this conversation. “So will I see you on Friday or not?”

“Probably not.”

“See! I knew you’d rather hang out with him than me!” He shouted after you as you stormed off to your next class, gait regretfully swaying as the effects of Rafe’s concoction set in.

In the weeks leading up to the performance, things only became more hectic. If you were to get your cortisol levels tested the results would likely conclude abnormally high. To make matters worse, Rafe was mad at you. Topper and Kelce tried to assure you that he wasn’t, but you knew better. He didn’t respond to your texts, barely acknowledged your presence at school and hadn’t invited you over in a week. All very abnormal behaviours as, while yes, he was an inherit dickhead, you were usually exempt from this. 

So naturally, you did what any normal person in such circumstances would do; gave him the exact same treatment in return. Only acknowledging the damage his behaviour was inflicting upon you in furious scribbles in your lavender spiral diary. 

A few days before show time were having your costume fitted in the small dressing room adjacent to the auditorium. Cindy was booked for her appointment afterwards and in the meantime she lazed on the tattered purple couch in the corner of the room, scrolling through her phone. 

A girl from the costume department examined the logistical functioning of your costume as there were a few instances in the performance where a quick change was necessary. Her red curls bounced as she turned the room upside down in search of her pins. 

“Ok then, you’re pretty much done. I’ll just have to hem the base so we adhere to theatre safe practices and all that stupid shit they assess…” She paused and eyed you over, tugging at the loose sleeve of your dress with a hum. “You look so pretty, like a fairy.”

“Thank you.” You bashfully smiled. She returned it before turning to the other girl in the room.

“Cindy.” 

“Hm?”

“Cindy.” 

“What?” She snapped, tearing her gaze from her phone. 

“What do you think?”

“I mean it’s alright” She shrugged, face peeling into a saccharine grin. “Not really your colour but you definitely suit rags.”

 You would’ve burst out into laughter had you not been so shocked.

“Nowww I remember why I don’t ask for your opinion,” The red head rolled her eyes, shoving Cindy’s garment bag into her lap. “Be useful and get changed into this. I’ll get started on you in a moment.”

Once Cindy had left the room, she bowed her head apologising. 

“I’m guessing you’re not her biggest fan?” 

“Not a fan, period.” She sullenly snorted. “She’s a sanctimonious bitch who can’t keep her nose out of other peoples’ business.”

“She’s pretty at least.” You tried to see the best in people, despite how difficult they made it for you. 

“Well that’s about all she has to offer. I’m Edie, by the way.”

And the rest was history. 

Similarly to the majority of the cast and crew, Edie was in Rafe’s grade. And when she discovered (during your break on Friday rehearsals) that you knew the infamous blonde personally, you did not hear the end of it.

“You’re friends with Rafe Cameron?” Her jaw fell open so quickly you worried it would pop out of alignment. 

“Yeah, I mean we practically grew up together. I’ve spent half my life at his house.”

“You go to his house?! Holy fuck, you’ve been living my dream life like it’s nothing to you.”

“Trust me it’s not as good as you might think. He can be a real ass–”

“Hope you’re not talkin’ about me?” An arm suddenly snaked over your shoulder. The limb was heavy but warm– comforting –and emanated a pleasant aroma. Thomas let his hair hang loose today, long ebony strands pirouetting over the surface of your skin when you glanced up at him.

“Not specifically, but I don’t know, maybe it applies to you too.”

In true theatrical style, he sputtered out a choking noise, clasping onto his chest to imitate immense pain. “Ouch. I think you just broke my heart.”

“Oh really? I didn’t realise Martian’s could feel pain.”

He gasped, and Edie chuckled at the interaction from beside you, shaking her head at your antics. “O-kay as cute as that was, can we please get back to the topic of Rafe.”

Thomas’s expression pinched in discomfort at the mention of the blonde and you recalled your last interaction with them both, inwardly cringing. “Does he have a problem with me or something? I feel like he does.”

“Wouldn’t be surprising. He’s always looking to have a problem with someone.”

“Seems to tolerate you though.”

“Barely,” He opened his mouth to respond but was beaten to it by a loud screech sounding out the syllables of his name. Cindy stood atop the stage, tapping her foot rhythmically against the solid wood with her arms crossed over her chest, not bothering to contain her lour. 

“Thomas!” her voice pierced across the auditorium again like one of those pesky drillers going off on a sunday morning. “I want to go over the cues for this scene, c’mon.”

“Hey,” Edie halted him as he begrudgingly moved to acquiesce to her demand, “Just remember you have free will.”

“Well look how far that’s gotten me.” 

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, as though it were some cryptic message you’d been tasked to decode. He smiled, bidding you both goodbye with a simple wave and you paused for a moment, observing as he trudged away. 

Edie cleared her throat and you were snapped out of your daze, returning to the present only to realise– with much dismay –that your face had been donned with a damning grin. Her brow quirked and you knew what was coming. 

“What’s that look for?” 

“Something you wanna tell me?”

“I don’t think so?” Your voice came out in a pathetic squeak and you cleared it, although the damage had already been done. 

“Oh come on,” She scoffed with an omniscient smirk, “You’re about as transparent as my gran’s panties…You like him.”

“Not you too.” You groaned, pivoting on your heels to take a seat in one of the rows of chairs furthest away from anyone else. If she wanted to have this conversation it was going to be out of earshot. Lest someone else managed to uncover your secret it would soon spread like wildfire. Her girlish giggle followed, and she saddled up beside you. 

“There’s no shame in it, babe. Tom’s a good guy, and you seem to get along…but–”

“But what?” 

Her expression soured, as though the words on the tip of her tongue were full of bile. “One thing you should know about Tom is that for many years, he had a thing for Cindy,” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, “She rejected and rejected him, and eventually he moved on…but she didn’t like that. Not one bit. But now it seems the tables have turned. Did you know she fucking hates theatre?”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.” You were prompted to glance up onto the stage where the two were currently rehearsing; she made it seem so effortless. How could she hate the things she was good at?

“Exactly. That’s why she’s so dangerous, she can keep up a good act.”

“I see.” This information shouldn’t have unsettled you. The past was set in stone for a reason and it was only possible for it to be resurfaced if you allowed it to. But it did unsettle you. Cindy possessed a classic kind of beauty you weren’t sure you could compete with. “So do you think if she were to ever bring it up, he would go for her again?”

“Hard to tell, with both of them really. I’m pretty sure it’s just a game to her, she likes the attention. But as for Thomas, I think he’s beginning to see things clearer now.”

You tilted your head, unsure of what she meant by that.

“He’s not thinking with his dick.” She clarified bluntly, the crass wording making you gasp and then chuckle.

“Right. Good to know.”

Your phone vibrated from within your jeans pocket and you were surprised to see that it was Rafe calling you, considering you’d essentially gone with no contact for days. Assuming the worst, you excused yourself.

As you placed the phone to your ear you could only manage to make out a whooshing sound as though he were standing atop an viciously windy mountain. Then it stopped in tandem with what sounded to be like a string of expletives before he finally spoke.

“Yooo, what’s up? You coming?” Your brows furrowed at his elated tone. Last you’d checked, he was ignoring you. 

“Rafe, I already told you I can't–”

“Chill, it's fine. Got dumb and dumber to come over, keep me entertained”

“The fuck you just call us?” Topper and Kelce both shouted in unison somewhere in the background. Aside from their outburst, you couldn’t make out any other noise so you imagined they’d locked themselves away from all the action with Ward and his friends. Rafe detested hanging out with the oldies.

“Ok, good. Saves me from feeling bad. But are you alright, you sound a bit…” Happy. The word you were grasping for was happy, because you couldn’t remember the last time he’d sounded so care free. 

“Better than ever!” 

“And are we ok?” 

“Yeahhh, you’re too cute to stay mad at for long.”

His response stifled you for a moment. “That’s real funny, Rafe.”

But in the coming days, something told you this may not be the case. 

Instead of avoiding you, Rafe wasn’t even showing up  to school anymore. You were worried he was still clinging onto the remnants of his unjust anger until you received another phone call at 2:30am, the night before your performance.

“Rafe,” You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, voice groggy and disoriented as you checked the glaring red lines on your digital clock. “What’s wrong? Do you even know what time it is?”

“Yeah, uh I’m sorry…” He sniffed. “I’m outside, can I come– ah actually y’know what just come out front, will you?” 

You paused. On any ordinary occasion you’d have told him to piss off, too tired and frustrated to entertain his larks. But a stab of concern reared its ugly head at his shakey tone– this was very out of character.   

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be out in a minute.”

It was a blisteringly cold night so you shrugged on a coat before trekking down stairs quietly, praying your parents weren’t lying awake to witness you sneaking out of the house in the wee hours. 

The front door scraped against the doormat as it opened. Rafe remained slumped against one of the white veranda pillars, motionless, as though he hadn’t heard you. His breaths were heavy, and upon assessing him you frowned at the fact that he was merely clad in a thin polo shirt and khaki shorts. 

“...Rafe?” You brushed your fingers gingerly across the wide expanse of his shoulders. He violently flinched, whipping around as though your touch was a burning affliction upon his supple skin. But his harsh reaction quickly softened when he saw it was just you.

 “Shit, don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” You whispered, dragging your eyes from his head all the way down to his toes, assessing for any injuries. His unmarred skin left you stumped and it was only when you honed in on his frantic gaze did the issue finally dawned on you.

“Are you high?” 

Your question seemed to strike a nerve. He scrunched his face within his hands, as though he were in pain.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I-it’s like I’m seeing shit and hearing shit and my head hurts so fucking bad.” He was reacting badly. “And all I could think about was seeing you.”

“Did you have a fight with Ward?” This time he didn’t flinch as you grabbed onto his bicep, hoping to ground him. 

“Yeah, uh, yeah he’s just–”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to explain that right now. I’m here.” His burly arms engulfed you as he accepted your hug. You entangled yourself within his embrace, understanding that right now, all he desired was some comfort. 

“Thanks.” 

His voice was muffled by the position with his head stuffed into your shoulder. You gently tighten your hold in response, focusing on the rapid stuttering of his heartbeat which gradually slowed and levelled out into a calmer rhythm.    

What came next was like an inevitable chain of events: both of you pulled back at the same time and a frisson of confusion swept over you as he remained there, content with your noses practically intertwining. Although you weren’t confused. No. You were evading the truth. The truth that had become crystallised in this moment, it glistened so bright you could hardly ignore it. 

One moment you were pinned to the spot by his  gaze, sporadically alternating between each region of your face. Mapping out each detail but notably lingering on your lips. Emotions raged within those orbs like a violent coastal storm, threatening to destroy whatever stability you had left. 

Then, as though it were natural to him, he met you in the middle. 

You’d never experienced anything like it, and any story you’d been told was not comparable. His lips were firm and demanding in a way that surprised you and there was not a single trace of hesitation in his movement, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. 

Reality came crashing into you like a truck; you were kissing your best friend. The boy you bathed with as a child, who allowed you to snot into his sleeve as you wept and who vowed to protect you from the plight of men; It felt nice, but this sentiment was so heavily outweighed by the fact that it felt wrong. 

This revelation ignited your dormant reflexes. As he began to paw at your lower back, you realised this had gone too far. 

The rate at which you pushed him away stunned even you, and a wave of guilt ebbed through your system as his back collided with the pillar; you didn’t mean to be so harsh, after all he was already in a vulnerable state. He remained crumpled in that position, fingers ghosting over his lips as if he were attempting to savour the taste of your own. 

“Shit, I-I’m always fucking up, I’m sorry,” He cupped your chin, the action causing you to jerk. “Sorry.” 

It unnerved how contrived his apology sounded, and you wondered if he could hear it too. 

“Uh-no no it’s ok,” Your body was frozen in a state of shock. “You're all over the place,” Surely he’d brush this off as a mistake by morning. “let's get you inside, yeah?”

His eyes glazed over your face once again, scrupulously this time, as though he were searching for something. He nodded when he didn’t find it, seemingly wanting to say more as he brushed the back of his neck but he chose to remain silent as you led him inside. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to share a bed; you’d done so numerous times in the past. But it felt different now, like an invitation you were reluctant to hand out. You wanted to be there for Rafe, but you couldn’t let him get confused.

So you laid there, keeping an appropriate amount of distance from the snoring blonde. If you acted normal, things would remain as they always had, right?  Would it be swiped under the rug? Deep down you realised the implications of what had just occurred, and the potential for your…brief mistake to alter both of your futures. It was a classic tale, one you’d heard so many times (both in reality and in fiction) it had burned deep into your psyche. A slow evolution between boy and girl, from friendship to beyond. But that didn’t mean you'd end like that, you repeated over and over again like a mantra. You just couldn’t.

So you laid there, deciding to enjoy this peaceful moment. Naturally, your mind drifts over it all: the play, Thomas, Rafe beside you. All sharing a common denominator– pumping your life full of both excitement and stress. 

But as the saying goes; all good things must come to an end. 

vi.

Rafe experienced what you liked to call a reverse metamorphosis during your senior year. 

Why reverse? Well, instead of transforming from a raggedy moth, expanding his wings to flourish as a butterfly, he took a drastic turn for the worse; as though he’d retreated back into a slimy cocoon. 

Not that he’d ever been exceptionally well-behaved throughout his schooling years– busted for truancy more times than you could count, dabbling in all sorts of allusive substances among other nefarious things that you try not to dwell on –but as a recent graduate privileged with all the resources needed to pave a bright future, you had at least expected he’d try.

Unfortunately, things didn’t always pan out as you imagined they would. 

If he wasn’t drunk, or at least on the brink of it, then he was under the influence of some other powdery or herbal substance. Wasting his days away under the soft confinements of his bedding, recovering from late nights and remaining slumped against the toilet for the better half of his waking hours. Then he’d repeat the cycle, with absolutely no lessons learnt. 

Sometimes you’d receive a call. Incoherent slurs which reminded you of that fateful night months ago, where lines were blurred and boundaries crossed. His drunken words held no meaning, right? That’s what you would tell yourself, like a mantra, over and over until your mind believed what it heard the most. 

But nonetheless, you couldn’t spend your whole life worrying about Rafe. Not when you had other, more imperative issues at hand. 

Or… between your legs. 

The nonsensical droning emitted from the food network on your tv fell on deaf ears as you sat perched on Thomas lap. The weight of your knees was supported by cherry sheets and pink frilly pillows as your lips moved against his at a languid pace. It was soft, sensual…tame, but at the same time exhilarating, and you trusted Thomas to guide you through it.

He let out a low groan as your fingers absentmindedly tugged on his shiny locks. Much to your dismay, he recently cut his hair shorter than it's ever been; his new look attracting attention from those who previously dismissed him, and this stoked the flames of unease within you.

You lowered your position, leaning impossibly closer until your chest brushed against the flimsy cotton of his t-shirt. A jolt of electricity transmitted up your spine as his hands found purchase on your lower back, traversing dangerously low, and a soft whimper floated from your chest.

But as you were still discovering, the art of intimacy was much more complex than you initially believed, and you hadn’t quite learnt how to toe the line.

Without thinking, your thumbs dipped into the waistline of his pants. Just barely tickling the surface, but enough to make Thomas jerk his head back, the hasty action subsequently halting your heated movements. 

 “What’re you doing?” His voice was outlandishly thick as his breaths came out in heavy puffs, scented in confusion. 

“I just thought…” You sat back, feeling suddenly unmoored. “Sorry, am I doing something wrong?”

“Of course not, just not right now, okay?” His deft fingers kneaded into your side, but their intended comforting effect did nothing to quell the pang of his rejection. 

“Sure.” You halfheartedly smiled, slipping off of his warm body to settle by his side. 

Had you been as stiff as a board this entire time? And why was your bedroom becoming increasingly suffocating? As though the walls unanimously decided to close in and focus every second of awkwardness into one concentrated area. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Thomas eventually broke the heavy silence, refusing to broach the elephant in the room– which you were thankful for.

Clearing your throat, you rolled out of your bed, pulling on a pair of fuzzy socks. “Yeah, I’ll get us something to eat. You choose the movie.”

Your relationship with Thomas had been smooth sailing…until it wasn't. 

As you busied yourself slicing up a platter of fruit in the kitchen, you couldn’t resist analysing each possibility as to why.Thomas was acting strangely. This wasn’t an assumption, and it couldn’t have been a coincidence that his change in demeanour always seemed to occur in your presence. So then what were you doing wrong? And why did he insist on keeping you in the dark?

Your train of thought came to an abrupt halt as you noticed an onslaught of notifications popping up on your phone. With an exasperated groan, you leaned over the bench to see who had the audacity to disrupt your moment's peace and quiet.

Rafe. Could you get a break?

To: Princess Rafe 🙄👑 

Piss off I’m busy.

You left it there, praying to any deity willing to lend you an ear that that would suffice. But clearly, you’d also managed to vex the higher beings, as his response was immediate:

From: Princess Rafe 🙄👑

I’m going 74 mph yet I take the time to talk to you 🖕

Yep. No break for you. 

To: Princess Rafe 🙄👑 

???? 

Dude get off your fucking phone. 

From: Princess Rafe 🙄👑

Since you asked so nicely.

And if his cavalier regard for the law wasn’t bad enough, his next message sent your jaw straight to the floor.

“Nope. Not dealing with this.” You shoved your phone into your pocket, ignoring the buzz of a new notification, both for your own sanity and Rafe’s safety. 

When you returned to your room, Thomas had migrated to the carpet, perched atop a pile of decorative pillows you’d previously discarded onto the floor as he flicked through the pages of a familiar lavender spiral notebook. 

You gasped, the realisation of what he was rifling through slapping you right across the face. 

“Oh, hey.” He smirked– that sick, condescending bastard!

“STOP!” You screeched, and his laughter verged on hysterical. “Put. That. Down.”

He swiftly dogged the stuffed animals you pelted in his direction, pouting derisively as you  proceeded to storm towards him. “Aw, why would I do that? I was just getting to the part where you’ve described my scent. Lemon myrtle? That’s pretty specific, it’s actually musk–”

“Thomas.” Your tone acquired a sharp edge, but clearly he hadn’t tortured you enough as he teasingly flicked to the newer entries.  

“Oh, and what’s this…” His posture went lax, abruptly pausing. His wide eyes darted in between the lines as though the words were a mirage he was reluctant to put his trust in. Then his lips pulled down into a small frown, and your stomach clenched. 

“What? Where the hell are you up to?” Your attempt to snatch at the book was fruitless as he kept it raised well above your reach. “Wha–”   

 “Alright, I’ve had enough of this game for one night. Let’s watch the movie.” You stumbled to catch the book as he carelessly discarded it, pivoting around you as he flopped back onto the bed.

“Okay…but don’t make a habit of breaching my privacy.” Your laugh was intended to lighten the mood, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. 

“Why, got something to hide?” He sullenly spoke, staring at the ceiling. Again, the inexplicable tension had wormed it’s back into your room. It was like a stubborn parasite which adapted to its surroundings, never completely disappearing. 

“Nothing too damning I’d imagine.”

The movie Thomas chose was a 20th century romantic tragedy featuring many themes typical of that era such as misogyny and class which made your eyes roll. Your attention to the plot was continually hijacked as Rafe continued to flood your phone with messages, making it difficult to follow along with the plot. You’d been in the middle of responding to one of his many texts (complaining about how some guy at a party was getting on his nerves) when the movie suddenly paused.

“Mm, why'd you pause it?” You peeled your eyes from the screen to be met by Thomas’s blank ones.

“Can I ask you something? And I want you to just be honest with me, don’t tell me what I want to hear.”

“Uh, sure.” His quick transition into seriousness caught you by surprise, and your body tensed like a coiled spring. 

“Alright look, I really hate to be this guy,” His face scrunched into a grimace as he glanced anywhere but your eyes. “But you’d tell me if there was someone else, wouldn’t you?”

“Someone else? What do you mean?”

He sighed, clearly frustrated. “Let me be more clear then. If you liked someone else, would you string me along…or would you break things off?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, now twisting your body to face him with a scoff. “Who do you think I am, Thomas. I was the one who asked you out, remember? That wasn’t on a whim, I did that because I liked you.”

“Liked?”

You groaned. Why was he making this so complicated?

 “Liked, like. What difference does it make? To me this seems like you are trying to come to the conclusion you want to hear?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions, just tryna test my hypothesis.”

“Okay, and what’s that?” Probing information out of him was like bribing a kid with vegetables; fucking tedious. 

“That you care about Rafe more than you’re letting on, maybe more than you even realise.”

“What?” You almost laughed in disbelief. Where was this even coming from? “He’s one of my best friends, wouldn’t it be more concerning if I didn’t care for him?”

“I never said you couldn’t care about him to a normal degree, but he may as well be in the room with us! It’s never just me and you, he’s always occupying your mind. Do you not stop to think about how that makes me feel?” 

He did have a point. Rafe was like a dog, constantly demanding your attention, and it had been that way since the day you met him. Still, you sat there in shock, realising he must’ve been bottling this up for sometime now. 

“I didn’t mean- well alright if we’re suddenly being honest, half the time I’m with you it feels like you don’t even want me there.”

“What does that mean?” Now it was his turn to sound confused, offended even.

“You confuse me! One moment you’re all over me and the next you’re pushing me away as though I make your skin crawl.” 

He paused, contemplatively digesting your words before his pretty features twisted into an indignant scowl. “So does that excuse what you did? Because I don’t show you enough attention?”

“What did I do?” You were at your wit’s end.

“Oh stop pretending like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw it, written in your pretty fucking handwritten; you kissed him.”

Oh. Shit. Of all entries it was that one he had to have read; which absolutely did not paint the clearest picture of that night. You got half way through documenting what had happened before stopping right at the point when you realised it was wrong, no longer feeling in the mood to relive the moment…no wonder he was furious. 

“It’s not what you think.” You internally cursed yourself for how cliche that sounded. 

“No? Enlighten me then.” He sat up straight like a judge awaiting your testimony from a convicted criminal. 

“Rafe has issues…okay. Stuff at home, and he’s never known how to cope on his own–”

“Oh right, so that’s where you come into play. Are your lips like some magical cure for interpersonal issues.” He queried cynically. 

“Would you shut up and listen!” This time, he reared back at your outburst, “That night he was really out of it. I’m talking delirious, like some rabid dog. He kissed me, not the other way round, and I stopped it because it didn't feel right… and because I liked you.”

You could see the cogs churning in Thomas's mind as he absorbed your words, taking the time to process each one. With a gentle gaze, he met your eyes, his expression softening into an apologetic smile.

 “I see. This all happened before we got together?” 

“Yes, of course it was before. I would never do something like that to you,” His drop in hostility spurred you to lean forward, dragging his warm limbs into your embrace, “I promise.” 

Surely this would be the end of it. It had to be. Everything was out in the open, miscommunications cleared. But when you pulled back, his guilty grimace told you otherwise. 

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

vii.

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Another fervid sob was ripped from your maw. You burned from within, rife with malice clawing all the way up your raw oesophagus till it was raw and prying through your lips in ugly bated breaths. You allowed a moment to pass before trying again. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

…

“You ignore my fuckin’ texts and now you wanna talk.”

“Rafe,” Your cracked voice butchered the syllables of his name, sounding almost unrecognisable. Pathetic. “Can I see you?”

Not even 10 seconds later a notification appeared on your phone. He’d shared his location, some vaguely familiar residence on the outskirts of your neighbourhood. 

“What–”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Being vulnerable wasn’t really your forte, nor was it Rafe’s, and there was no doubting he was currently perplexed by your sudden change of heart. But tonight, you needed someone. And that’s how you found yourself stepping into a stranger's house at 12:45 am, scouring the misty rooms in search of a familiar burly figure. 

A low whistle piqued your attention. Topper emerged from the kitchen as you were passing by, two red solo cups in his possession. “Didn’t expect to see you here, not that I’m complaining.”

His eyes quickly swept over your frame, the respectful gentleman he was. You couldn’t contain your scoff. Even in black track pants and a muted pink top… guys really could be attracted to anything as long as it walked on two hind legs. 

“Bit cliche, don’t you think, Top.” You retorted with a halfhearted snort, gesturing to the cups. What was this, a freshman's first houseparty?

He rolled his eyes, extending one to you. The nefarious liquid sloshed over the rim and you shook your head. “Uh, no I’m good, thanks.”

He fixed you with a pointed look. “It looks like you could really use it.”

With a huff you snatched the cup from him, to which he chuckled. “I hate how you’re always right.”

He began to ferry you toward Kelce and their gaggle of friends who huddled around a small coffee table in the living room, passing a clumsily rolled joint between them. When Kelce’s wide-set brown eyes landed on you, he abruptly stood, knocking the table's contents in doing so as he manhandled you into his side. 

“How’s my favourite girl doing?”

He balanced the joint between two fingers, residual smoke clung to his body in a damp sheen. Your eyes watered as you suppress a cough, “Fine, until I caught a whiff of you.”

“C’mon, nothing takes the edge off like a good toke.” He waved it in front of your face, an offer, snorting as your face contorted into a grimace. 

“As great as that sounds,” You pushed his arm off its perch on your shoulder with a bitter smile. “Is Rafe here?”

“Yeah, pretty sure he went upstairs.” His hand absentmindedly flicked toward the staircase and you quickly excused yourself before they could become too attached to your presence.

The ambience upstairs was much more quaint than below, mainly consisting of couples who split off from their respective groups. A few were making out, some others collapsed asleep on the furnished floorboards; typical party antics reminding you as to why you generally avoided these places. 

The walk from your house had cooled your system, remedying your flighty instincts ever so slightly. This you were thankful for, as upon opening the final door along the lengthy hallway, you were met with Rafe’s determined gaze; and you knew he would demand answers.

“Been messaging you.” The mattress creaked as he lifted his weight off its surface. His gait was straight, steady, and this was perhaps the closest to sober you’d seen him in a long time.

“I know, I just wanted to see you in person.” Despite your best efforts, the burning of your eyes became so overbearing and you fought to hold back the overwhelming emotions coursing through your veins. It was like the moment someone asks if you're okay when it's obvious you're not, the floodgates open and emotions come crashing down around you in an unrelenting wave.

“Hey hey hey, what the fuck happened to you?” He rushed over, forcing you to face him with a firm grip on your shoulders. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“The fuck it does,” His hands rubbed over his face exasperatedly as though he were controlling the urge to be rougher with you and extract an answer forcefully. “You can’t call me all hysterically crying and shit then give me nothing. Did someone hurt you? Did Thomas do something?”

The mere mention of his name sent you spiralling even further. “Alright, come on, sit down.” Rafe didn’t give you much of an option, dragging you to the bed in an iron grip then forcing you onto the black sheets as he sat beside you. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s Thomas.” You affirmed solemnly. 

 “I’ll kill him.” He seethed through his teeth and your head violently shook. 

“No, no I won’t tell you if that’s how you’re gonna respond.” He went to ark up but you interrupted him before he had the chance. “Rafe, I'm serious.”

“I’ll decide for myself once you tell me.”

With a heavy sigh, you finally conceded. “Do you remember that one girl from my theatre club? The diva one?”

“Who?” 

“Cindy! Blonde hair, beautiful. She was in your year level.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I seriously don’t know who the fuck that is.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t really matter. Anyway, before me and Thomas started…dating, I found out he had a thing for her for quite some time.”

“So?”

“Jesus- just let me finish!” He reluctantly relented, nodding for you to continue. “Since you’re so impatient, I’ll tell you the short version: Thomas stopped liking her then me and him started dating. He thought we had something going on secretly and confided in Cindy…then he used that to justify sleeping with her.”

The silence which followed was like dust settling back onto the road; static but still very much disturbed. 

“What.” 

“There’s nothing else to say.” You croaked, dabbing your sodden eyes on your sleeve.

Not a moment later he shot up, pacing back and forth a few times before submitting to the battle raging in his head and storming toward the door. “Rafe, no you promised me–”

“I didn’t promise shit!” He whipped back around to face you, face wild with fury. “That motherfucker is gonna get what’s coming for him!”

“RAFE.” His cheeks were ablaze as you cupped them in your hands, eyes darting around sporadically as though he were high on adrenaline. “Please, I need you right now. What happens next is for another time. Let it rest.”

His nostrils flared as he finally met your eyes. You pulled him closer, sensing your words were having an effect, softly whispering another plea– and it was like deja vu when his lips met yours for the second time. Only it wasn’t. As he pressed himself firmly against you, unyielding in his advance, you realised this was truly happening again… and to your horror, it felt nice. 

In fact, you didn’t want it to stop. 

In the time you’d been together with…Thomas…the intimate experiences you shared allowed you to act with heightened confidence, no longer feeling the need to skittishly paw at his chest like a bunny caught by the big bad wolf. Now you moved with your own validity, placing your hands upon his taut chest and following the pace he set. 

His palm suddenly clamped down on your ass and you gasped into his mouth, surprised. Thomas was a respectful lover, never so daring, but Rafe’s impulsivity stirred a concoction of excitement and nervousness within your belly. 

He took this window of opportunity to dip the tip of his tongue into your mouth. Testing the waters at first, and when you showed no signs of disapproval, delving full throttle. “Shit,” He groaned, using his grip on your lower half as leverage to guide you backwards. 

Your libidinous scrambled brain only registered his intention when the backs of your knees came into contact with the bed, instigating your loss of balance. A pathetic squeak floated from your throat as you fell onto the soft confinements of whoevers sheets these were. 

Rafe didn’t hesitate to slot himself between your parted knees, crawling over your limp body like a predator readying itself to ravage a meal. His head dipped into the crevice of your neck, planting strategically placed kisses and sucking on the tender flesh, subsequently sowing the seeds of your growing excitement. 

But as he remained in that position– feverish palms exploring your clothed body, hot enough to burn through the fabric –your heart began to race. Why did you feel a shudder of anticipation run down your spine? What if he were to stop and really look at you? Why were you scared?

It wasn't until he gained the confidence to explore the curve of your body beneath the fabric that you jolted back into reality, your heart racing and breath catching in your throat.

“Wait!” He peeled himself off of you with an expectant look, blown pupils peeved by your interruption. “I’ve never done this before.”

You whispered it, timorously, ashamed even. 

You were expecting rejection, after all, that was the only response you ever received from Thomas. What you weren’t expecting, however, was his lips to twitch up in a haughty smirk, his desire for you not faltering whatsoever. You would even go as far as to say that the gleam which appeared in his eyes indicated that he found this revelation rather pleasing. 

“You trust me?” 

Your nod was automatic like a reflex, saving you from mulling over the question too deeply. In response he sat back on his thighs, swatting away your hands which had fallen to your stomach (perhaps subconsciously attempting to create a separation between the two of you) allowing him to slide your loose shirt above your navel and then over your chest, the material bunching around your neck. He marvelled at the exposed skin, tentatively brushing over your stomach causing you to squirm at the new sensation. 

“Then lay back and relax.” 

From then on, the sequence of events was a blur; a tangle of limbs and symphony of noises all coming together to form an incoherent memory. 

Your shirt was the first to come off, followed shortly by his. Rafe’s bare chest was nothing you hadn’t seen before, but in this context your vision was obscured by a rose tint. His sculpted biceps flexed as he worked on tugging your pants down and you couldn’t help but noticed the way he tucked his lower lip between his teeth in concentration or the dewy sheen covering his skin. 

It was akin to looking into a kaleidoscope for the first time and not knowing where to cast your gaze.

“If he thinks he can hurt you like this,” His firm lips danced across your throat.“Then he’s got another thing coming.” 

He spoke in a harsh growl, hooking his fingers beneath the straps of your bra and dragging them down in one sweeping motion. 

You squeaked in shook, heat blossoming beneath your cheeks at the abrupt exposure of your tits. Your tingling nipples quickly began to harden, and you weren’t sure if this was due to the draft slipping through the slightly ajar window or the firm attention Rafe was paying to your flesh. 

Nonetheless, your arms instinctively twitched upwards, preparing to cover yourself from his prying eyes. He anticipated this, however, promptly collecting your wrists and pinning them beside your head. 

“Don’t, don’t do that.” His voice exploded into a vehement tone. “I don’t even remember who that bitch is, let alone what she looks like…think that’s saying something.” 

Before your short circuiting brain could formulate a response, his lips descended upon your chest, laving at one of the sensitive buds before sucking on it harshly. Your body reacted viscerally, flailing at the newfound stimulation.You mewled, squirming, as he pulled away with a breathless chuckle.

“See what a girl like you does to a man.” He forced one of your hands down to his boxers. Your eyes widened as you felt how hard he was, and you let out a soft gasp as he throbbed around your palm.

“Feel that? Yeah, that’s all you baby.”

“Rafe, ple–” Your breath hitched as his knee drove forward, the delicious pressure nudging into your clothed core. 

“Go on, I want to hear you say it.” 

“Please…”

“Already speechless? That’s cute.” His words had you shrinking in on yourself, trying to flee from the heat radiating off his body. “It’s alright, I know what you need.”

While your racing thoughts kept you occupied, you were oblivious to the fact that Rafe had removed his knee from between your legs, opting to slink his deft fingers inside the flimsy cotton of your underwear. That was, of course, until you felt something foreign swiping against your most sensitive area, teasingly prodding at the tight entrance. You flinched, shuddering beneath the unfamiliarity of his touch.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”

Your head bobbed up and down ardently, voice tiny and breathless and he grinned. “Okay.”

“Okay then.” 

Your body fell in and out of consciousness, wrecked from a night filled with both pleasure and anguish. When you did finally wake up, it was well into the night. The heavy breaths falling onto you from behind drowned out the eerie silence of the house. A gust of wind howled through the night sky, and your naked form shivered as the cold managed to slither beneath the sheets.

Rafe’s arm laid heavy across your waist. Anchoring you down as though— even in sleep —he was paranoid you’d slip away. You carefully lifted his arm, halting as his breathing accelerated before replacing your warmth with a pillow.

The first step went surprisingly smoothly… but that must’ve been a fluke as what came next was nearly debilitating. 

An aching pang shot up between your legs, sharp and sudden. You gasped, clutching onto the bed frame for support. The sensation wasn’t extremely painful, rather unpleasant and even worse it acted as a punishing reminder of the choices you’d made tonight. 

What you just did.  

Fumbling around the floor on all fours was equally deplorable and you now understood what others meant when they described the after fact as a ‘walk of shame.’ 

You eventually located your pants, desperately patting them down to find your phone. The screen flashed on when you pulled it out of the pocket and you hissed as the harsh light penetrated your retinas, a dull throb settling between your eyes.

There was a flurry of texts from Thomas. Apologies, explanations, and pleas for a response. He’d left your house without much resistance earlier in the evening as you cried for him to do so, but it seemed he wasn’t giving up on you so easily. 

Your heart clenched painfully, and it was as though all of the synapses in your brain fired at once; What have you done?

A pool of saliva formed within your mouth, stomach suddenly churning. You stumbled across the floor, making a beeline for the ensuite as your throat heaved. In a matter of seconds after collapsing on the floor before the toilet, you were vomiting into the bowl. Violent hurls which only subsided once you were completely empty. 

Could you be any more putrid? 

The facet rasped as you turned it, a steady flow of water filling the bathtub as you rinsed out the vile taste in your mouth. It was bitingly cold as you slowly lowered each aching limb into the water, sighing in relief as your body acclimatised and began to relax. 

When you were on the cusp of sleep once again, you started cleaning yourself. Scrubbing your skin raw with soapy suds until the water turned a sickening pink and you felt sick for the second time that night. 

You dipped below the water and watched as bubbles rose to the surface. 

viii.

Everything was becoming surreal. 

In half an hour your given moniker would be permanently altered. It was the ‘essence of your identity’ your mother would say, but you’d never been particularly sentimental about it. This likely stemmed from your childhood. As a girl, you used to long for a prince mounted upon a dark stallion to come and sweep you off your feet with promises of a perfect future; all that was required in exchange was a simple change of your name. 

Of course, reality hit like a truck when you learnt that there weren’t enough princes around for each little girl in the world. But still, perhaps your expectations had been too high. 

Mrs. Hughes.

Mrs. Hughes.

Mrs. Hughes. 

There was a certain ring to it which you couldn’t quite pinpoint, similar to when you found a puzzle piece which looks right, but it isn’t the exact fit.   

After kicking everyone out of the room, you’d spent the last fifteen minutes distracting yourself by mulling over your appearance. The seamstress did everything she could to preserve the original cut of the dress but was ultimately forced to make it backless due to the inflexible time constraint.

Despite the reassuring gushes you’d received from the bridesmaid’s, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. The material which once clung taut against your curves now flowed freely in all its feathered glory, displaying the tender expanse of your back to all those who came to witness. 

A firm knock reverberated off the oak door and your lips pinched down in a small frown; you’d been explicit in your desire to be alone.

You cracked the door ajar, bewildered to be met with the familiar blue orbs of the eldest Cameron upon peeking out into the hallway. His pale blue suit was neatly pressed and tailored to his body, a black bow tie complimenting the look, making him appear youthful.

“...What are you doing?” You whispered incredulously, glancing to each side of the empty corridor.

He flashed you a grin, holding up a long-neck bottle with a pretty red ribbon wrapped around it like a noose. “Wanted to say my congratulations. I’m guessing you’ll be a bit tied up later on.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” His head tilted to the left in confusion and you sighed, “It’s bad luck.”

He hummed, smirk grew patronising as he deadpanned; “I thought that rule only applied to the groom?” 

“Is this for me?” You chose to ignore his previous remark, gesturing to the bottle he still held in his possession. 

“Yeah. Rose wanted to give it to you herself but she was more than happy to let me do so when I offered.” You knew what he was hinting at; she missed having you around to keep her stepson in line. You didn’t know why you were surprised, it was in the Cameron's DNA to stoop to sly tactics.

"Mind if I come in?" Your reluctance must’ve been evident by your unwavering grip on the door. He rolled his eyes, voice now tinged with a touch of condescension. "C’mon. One last hurrah, that’s all I ask for."

What can five minutes hurt? Then hopefully he’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. “Alright, fine, but make it quick.” 

You clicked the door shut, aimlessly lingering by the window as he lined up two of the clean champagne glasses leftover from the earlier celebrations. The side seams of his suit tapered around his shoulders, extenuating the strain of his muscles and they rippled beneath the fabric. You averted your gaze, choosing to fix it on a lone swan floating out on the lake instead. 

“Thought I should say,” He turned to face you as he removed the cork with surprising ease, the stopper not even popping as it was released. “You look beautiful.” 

You snorted, brushing over a crease in the thick curtain. “That’s just custom speaking.”

He seemed genuinely miffed by your comment, mouth hanging open with a small huff. “That right there is proof that no one takes me seriously, I mean it.”

“Well thanks, I appreciate it. I did end up fitting into the dress so, guess I proved you wrong.”

His brows furrowed as the cardinal liquid poured into the glass. “Don’t tell me you took that to heart? I was just fuckin’ with you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He brought the two glasses over by the stem, passing the one which was filled exceptionally fuller to you. 

“Going easy?” 

“Designated driver.” He affirmed, leaning against the opposite side of the window frame. 

Your mouth opened, a soft ‘ah’ flicking off your tongue. “I must say I’m surprised and impressed.”

With a humoured scoff, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Alright, it’s your special day, what are we toasting to?”

You stilled for a moment, scouring your mind for something appropriate to say. When it came to you, you grinned: “May you be in heaven a full half-hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”

He hummed in approval before extending his arm to meet your glass somewhere in the middle.

“Cheers to that.” You said in unison, falling silent as you downed the entirety of your drink– it was your day after all, so fuck it, you were going to need some liquid courage to make it through the coming hours. 

The drink was shockingly sweet, oozing down your throat like a hot teaspoon of honey and you grimaced. “What is this?” 

Rafe shrugged, placing his untouched glass down. “Some guy who distils it himself. Disgusting, right?”

“That’s an understatement.”           

Words died in the air between you, lost and forgotten as a thick silence surrounded you both. The energy within the room grew dense, tensions steadily simmering and only increasing in intensity. You squirmed in your position, noticing as Rafe grew fidgety; something was dancing on the tip of his tongue, ready to be released. 

“Remember when I told you that your mum was worried ‘bout you?”

“...Yeah.” How could you forget, his drunken induced admission which soon followed still haunted your psyche. 

“Was any of that true about you acting strangely?”

“Your timing is truly impeccable.” Any of the previous lightness was sponged from your tone, replaced by defensive shrill which was painful to your own ears. 

“I’m just sayin’, it’s good to get this shit out in the open before everything is finalised, don’t you think?” He began to gesticulate with his hands, flapping motions which were distracting. 

“There’s nothing to ‘get out.’ I’ve had my doubts, but that’s normal. My mind is clear now.” You stated firmly, struggling to believe that he would have the audacity to question your decision just as it was about to come to fruition. 

“Is it?” His words carried a soft almost sympathetic note, as though you were a child and he was trying not to upset you. 

“Is it what?” 

“Is it normal to have doubts? I mean that reaction before didn’t seem very convincing to me.”He let his breath out in a soft sigh as your gaze remained defensive, backed into a corner like pitiful prey. “You see what this is telling me? That you don’t know how to make a decision that’s good for you.”

Your head was reeling, throbbing as the lights intensified, the artificial brightness causing you to squint. You were struggling to think, yet alone formulate a sentence. All you could conjure up was a childish response: “Shut up, shut up.”

The room tilted as you abruptly stood, staggering forward like a limp doll. You were on a rollercoaster, extremities weighed down by the impressive force of gravity. Rafe caught you before you could collapse, supporting your nape against his chest. Confusion ebbed through your veins as you clung onto him, a delicate whimper falling from your lips.

“Steady now.”

“Wha…” Your heart thumped realising how slurred your speech had become. 

His hand drummed along the exposed skin, shushing your protests. “It's okay,” a soft and hungry whisper. He drew the zipper down. An expanse of naked, supple skin awaited. A fresh carcass, ready for the taking. 

“I'm prepared to make that decision for you.”

[cwittr]

mine ೃ࿔

pairings. hwang in-ho x fem!reader

warnings. dead dove do not eat(?), mean!inho, harddom!inho, blood kink, impact play, knife play, aprox. 1 slap to the face and pussy, blood consuming (please don’t do this irl)

the front door of your shared home with hwang in-ho slammed shut so hard it shook the front room. in-ho was shaking with anger. his ears were red, his lips curved into a snarl, and his teeth ground together. you twirled your hair anxiously, praying that soon he would break the painful silence between the two of you.

you knew you fucked up big time. if only you weren't so naïve. and if only you hadn't worn that sultry pink dress. you thought it was cute, you had bought it just for him. but rafe hated it. it's not because of the colour or the length, it was a beautiful dress, but it drew so much attention to you. even his college couldn't help but eye you down before his wife slapped his shoulder.

in-ho knew what that man wanted from you the second he started the conversation. he lurked and watched, thinking you would get the hint of what he wanted. but you didn't. you sat on the barstool at the bar, giggling at what he was saying. that was what set him off. the mans eyes were on your chest almost the entire conversation, inching closer to you by the second. in-ho’s hands balled into fists until his knuckles were white.

he stormed over to you, grabbed your wrist and pulled you away. "uh-babe? what are you doing let go !" you squealed while squirming around, trying to escape his tight grasp. "let's go. now." he said through gritted teeth, his grip around your wrist tightening. "but i was just talki-" he yanked you through the club’s front door.

"thanks for having us man, sorry we gotta leave early. i'll see you monday." he called out to his friend before slamming the door behind him, not bothering to wait for a response from him. his grip on your wrist stayed tight as ever, his hand seemingly never going limp or getting tired.

the car ride home was nauseatingly quiet. the unnatural silence made it seem like a four hour drive when in reality it was less than 15 minutes. his large, veiny hands gripped the steering wheel so hard there was an imprint of where they once were. you threw him little glances every couple minutes, desperately trying to get his attention.

the car eventually made a sharp left turn and came to an abrupt stop. he swiftly unbuckled his seatbelt and slammed his car door shut, walking over to open yours. though in-ho was mad at you, downright furious, he was still a gentleman.

he threw his coat on the bench and untied his shoes. "bedroom. no clothes, edge of bed. you have five minutes." he said in a cold monotone voice, facing towards the mirror on the wall as he ran a hand through his hair. "if you even think of pulling some shit you’ll regret being born." he added.

you scrambled upstairs, stripping your clothes off as you ran through the hallway and into the bedroom. while waiting you applied your cherry flavored lipgloss, his favorite, tied your hair into his favorite style, praying that it would take points off your punishment.

after what felt like an eternity, in-ho finally walked in, shutting the door behind him and locking it. he scoffed when he saw your appearance. any other time he would've praised you and told you how sweet you were for getting all dolled up for him. but not this time.

"you've been a bad girl tonight." he murmured as he began to unbutton his shirt.

"i know sir.. but m' really sorry!! i wasn't tryi-" your whining was cut off by a harsh slap across your left cheek.

"did i say you could talk, pet?" he spat. his eyes were darker than ever before, his pupils dilated in a sense of sexual hunger. you shook your head, looking down at your bare thighs. he harshly grabbed your jaw to make you look at him.

"lay down on the bed on your back. i'll be back in a minute." he said with a dark tone. you were scared. but you knew if you resisted him would just make it worse.

"yes sir.." you said in a soft, shaky voice. he walked unlocked the door and walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. did i cross the line? you thought to yourself. is he gonna hurt me? what if he goes too far? you laid down on the bed, propping yourself up with your shoulders to see what's going on.

in-ho came back with something black and shiny that you could quite make out. once he got closer you saw what it was; a switchblade. you whimpered and squirmed. a mix of fear and arousal boiled inside of you, terrified of what he could do to you, but eager for it to happen.

he pulled you by your legs to the edge of the bed, forcing them open to reveal your soaked cunt. he chuckled and ran his long middle finger down your slit before slapping your dripping pussy. you squealed and closed your legs. you had been waiting for this all night, but would it be too much?

he forced your legs back opened and slapped your thigh harshly. "keep them open." he growled. you nodded quickly. "..yes sir" you whimpered. he opened the blade and caressed your inner thigh with the sharp tip. "what's your safe word, angel?" he asked softly. you melted, submitting completely. it was like he had a magic spell on you. he was such a sweetheart, even when he was angry with you. "yellow.." you mumbled while biting your fingernails anxiously.

he hummed in satisfaction. he opened your legs wider so he could press the blade up against your inner thigh, making you whimper in fear. "m' gonna mark you as mine, ‘kay? so if any other guy tries to play with my pussy they’ll see my name” he said with a condescending smirk on his face. you nodded slowly.

he pressed the sharp blade against your delicate skin, a small stream of blood gushing down your thigh. you whined again and squirmed, it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would but you were still scared. "stay still, don't want you losing too much blood." you tried your hardest to not squirm or flinch, but it was kind of hard not to when your husband is cutting his name into you.

when he was finally pleased with his handiwork, in-ho licked every last drop of blood off of his blade and stuck it back into his pocket. as you began to scoot back, he grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“you didn’t think we were finished yet, did you doll?”

[spread-the-influence]

i'm sorry this has been my roman empire SINCE i entered the fandom i have to get even more into detail . please forgive me for another essay

i don't want to bash on people's interpretations of ragatha because at the end of the day we will only truly know her once the other 5 episodes of tadc release .

so , i am Not going to list stuff i don't like . INSTEAD i'm just going to go into what i think is often missing when it comes to ragatha because my problem with fanon content of her is that she doesn't Feel like Ragatha enough . she often times feel more like a predisposed caretaker character that will have whispers of ragatha's flaws but none of , like , The Character if you get what i'm saying .

SILLINESS - this is the one that sticks out the most to me because it's Very obvious when there's not enough silliness in a ragatha . again , she's emotionally immature , which is apparent in her dialogue and gestures . maybe it's the psychology nerd in me but i Never really got mom vibes from her , i always saw everything she does as an epitome of anxious attachment i ammm not against putting her in a mom-child dynamic , i am not against the concept of mom ragatha and i have seen a fic that executed that well . it's just that when i see it pulled off , it's often ignoring that she puts one million emotional walls between herself and everybody - and it also ignores that there have been many implications where she's Not as helpful as she seems . this also often leads to infantilizing pomni and i Do not like that as well

insincerity - this is something that makes me go INSANE when i see it represented . i need to see this girl be dishonest , or Lie . i think it's so fascinating how much she hides her feelings to keep others from not liking her . i also think this is one thing i always find missing whenever i see other people's ragathas . there's just not enough of that insincerity . i'm not saying you should make her Lie all the time i'm saying that ragatha puts up a mask and is constantly thinking about what'll make the other person not hate her . she's just not a genuine person , which doesn't really help you on forming deep and personal relationships .

instability - ragatha does Not have her shit together i'm sorry . she wants people to like her to the point it's unhealthy and she has a grasp on her happy mask tighter than gangle's . this woman is a cocktail of internal issues . her self-esteem is Six Foot Underground . i have joked that she would do drugs if given the chance and guess what this bitch is at high risk of developing an addiction — now she's not like completely dysfunctional . but something to note is that her coping mechanisms are : Suppress Everything That Makes You Feel Bad , Ignore Your Pain , and Rely On Other People's Approval . we still don't know exactly Why she does those other than ' to not abstract ' , believe it or not they're still up for interpretation right now but yeah those are the stuff she does .

Does this make anyone else think of how the fandom treats Ragatha?

ehh i feel like the fandom has done a good job of acknowledging her flaws and how she's a people pleaser . if there's a problem i have with the general characterization of ragatha really , it's that there's just so little ... ragathaness in it ??

to put it into words , i feel like not a lot of people grasp that ragatha , at her core , is Emotionally Immature . she doesn't really act like her age . and i'm not saying that turning 30 means you have it all together and all of your problems disappear , it's more like that if we Ignored pomni and ragatha's appearances and compared their actions together , people would've thought that ragatha was Younger than her .

and this is intentional to show the contrast between them . pomni , whenever she's having The Conversation™ , tries to understand and offer suggestions . ragatha , i'm sure she does lend a listening ear but i do not trust ragatha " Toxic Positivity Incarnate " tadc to give advice that isn't as surface level as ' just don't worry about it ! ' or ' keep smiling ! ' , which is already kind of implied through gangle's dialogue

it just puts me off in a lot of fanon content . like i would read a fic and then i had to put it down because i'm like No ragatha knows too much about what she's doing She Literally Never Does that's her point please a ragatha is not complete without some element of anxiety , insincerity , and silliness i have the ragatha recipe right here

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Jealousy Looks Good on You

You weren’t the jealous type.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Being a pop star meant working with all kinds of people—male dancers, love interests in music videos, producers who sometimes got too flirty. But you always kept it professional because, at the end of the day, you knew where you belonged. With him.

And Marshall? He wasn’t always the best at handling it.

You knew he was possessive. Knew that the idea of you in a music video, getting too close to some guy, would make his blood boil. So, out of respect for him, you avoided it. Chose different creative directions.

But then his video happened.

And suddenly, you were rethinking everything.

You had stopped by his set to surprise him, only to find him laughing with her. A gorgeous actress cast as his video vixen—long legs, sultry smile, hands resting just a little too comfortably on his chest between takes.

Marshall hadn’t noticed you at first. But when he did, something in his expression shifted. Like he knew he was caught in some shit.

You didn’t cause a scene. Didn’t even say anything about it when you got home that night.

But you had a plan.

And if Marshall wanted to play this game, you were about to make damn sure he lost.

A week later, you were on set for your own music video.

And this time? There was a male lead.

You had been very particular about casting—choosing someone tall, muscular, charming as hell. Someone who, on camera, could make it look like there was something there.

And, of course, you made sure Marshall knew exactly when and where you’d be filming.

Which was why, halfway through a take, you weren’t surprised when you heard the familiar sound of heavy boots stalking across the set.

“Cut!” the director called, as you pulled back from your co-star, an innocent smile gracing your lips as you turned toward your husband.

Marshall stood just off-camera, jaw tight, arms crossed. “The fuck is this?”

You arched a brow. “It’s called a music video, babe. You’ve done a few, right?”

His eyes flicked toward the guy standing next to you, who—bless his heart—looked like he was suddenly rethinking his entire career choice.

“Yeah,” Marshall said, voice low, dangerous. “But you don’t do videos like this.”

You shrugged, walking toward him slowly, making sure to sway your hips just a little more than usual. “Well,” you mused, tilting your head, “I figured… since you get to have a pretty little co-star, maybe I should, too.”

His jaw flexed. “That what this is?”

You leaned in, lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “How does it feel, baby?”

His hands were on you instantly, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Pack it up,” he barked at the crew, not even looking their way. “She’s done for the day.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Marshall, you can’t just—”

“Now.”

You bit back a smile as the crew scrambled, clearing the set. Your co-star was gone in record time, clearly not interested in testing his luck.

Once it was just the two of you, Marshall backed you up against a nearby vanity, his hands braced on either side of you. His blue eyes burned into yours. “You wanna play games, huh?”

You smirked, fingers trailing up his chest. “Just proving a point.”

His breath was heavy, lips brushing against your jaw. “And what point is that?”

“That jealousy looks real good on you.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His grip on you tightened, possessive, like he was reminding you exactly who you belonged to.

And, as always, you were more than happy to let him.

[schwarzgeier-side]

Another oc you say? You are now psuedo-legally obligated to yap about them. Pretty please?

Uhmuh uhh scrambles through my notes

OKAY SO disclaimer She's not finished yet cauze uh im too gay

But here's my concept for Geier, the Vulture! I know others probably made better Geier concepts but fuck it i love vultures and i wanted to make my own.

Geier units in my head could be something akin to Exterminators , a sort of. Clean up unit as a response to any bioresonant fenomena or any massive "casulties". They also serve as reserve back up in case a Falke goes a bit rouge since they would be made with bioresonant supressors built in. Like an opposite to what Kolibris and Falkes have. This module makes them a lot more resistant to any bioresonance shenanigans but also makes them. More numb in a way? They literaly think . Less sorta. Not in dumb way just kinda. Doesn'r get nosy or curious , doesn't question many orders or things outside of their objectives. They're there to burn corpses and burn bioresonant fuckery. And they do it well.

Im still deciding on the coloring but I'm torn between black motives or orange . NOW A FUN THING is that Geiers have a built in mask! It's very similair to Starling ones but the very small mouth part being the only removable part. The vents on the side serve for better breathing and filtering during clean up and burning. The visor is fully detachable though and ofc is anti heat equiped. They also have canister ports on their backs for ease of attacking the gasoline tanks that hook up to the flamethrowers. Height wise they average between a Star and an Ara and have more animal style hind legs to ease movement for any big mushy places.

Personality wise Geiers are. Scarily calm and blunt. Straight to the point , short stern sentences. They don't take shit from anyone though sdhdh they're built to face off Falkes so they will gladly spar with other Protektors too. Which happens quite a bit as a source of stabilization , along with maintaining their guns and flamethrowers. They don't need much regarding hobbies or stabilization since the supression module already makes them. More apathetic. Makes them kinda loners , squads go up to max 5 with the members of Geier cadre being in the sort of a dynamic where they don't talk at all in their dorm but they will loyaly die for eachother without a question.

Saying all that deep down they are not that bad to get along with , they're just intimidating and blunt. Stuff like a stray Eule asking for help with moving supplies or an Ara needing some metal ripped out , Geiers will help without question. They are just quiet about it. They uh do have a tendecy to come off as extreme , specialy with fresh Geiers reacting to anything suspicious , yanking an Ara from vents on accident or cornering a coughing gestalt dhdhhd , but this mellows out with experience. If any replika decides to warm up to a Geier and put in the time and effort, Geiers are terrifingly loyal and good companions ,just very specific and introverted.

A slight sidenote , since Nation ofc wouldn't like a replika thats fully immune to bioresonant mental checks , the mind and thoughts of Geiers can be accesed through their neuro-ports by manualy plugging in. They have weekly check-ins like that with either a Kolibri or Falke or any of the leading figure at their facility.

Andd some more misc doodles

Thank u for asking btw hhhh it's weird coming out and yapping even more about replika ocs but it's so much fun.

[millyphobic]

ᯓ★ PRETTY LADY

⌗ a shitty friday night date, cold weather, and a late night bus ride back home. just when you think you’ve fucked up the start to your weekend, a real good-looking lady comes sitting next to you. but one problem, how the actual fuck are you getting her attention??

Di!Jill Valentine x fem!reader

꩜ .ᐟ cw :: implied age gap, smoking, awkward reader (this is basically a self-insert), a lot of internal dialogue (this is this is basically a self-insert), reader doesn't actually know who tf Jill is until the end help, rabbit wand mentioned (๑°o°๑)

꩜ .ᐟ notes :: I actually have no idea where this idea spawned from. probably from a dream or some embarrassing experience I had back in high school (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 wc :: 1.5k

You don’t hate the entire world. Just half of it. The male half. 

Nothing like another shitty date to ruin your Friday night. The fact you spent a whole hour listening to a frat guy talk about his shitty “achievements” was painfully depressing. Honestly, why do you even try? It’s already hard living in an area where girls don’t seem to be kissing other girls. But now every guy you think is semi-decent turns out to be a total dickwad. 

Is this a sign from above to stay single? Because it’s not funny. 

You trudged out of the dinner, miserable and with twenty dollars less in your pocket. Stupid bastard couldn’t even pay for your meal and looked at you like you were crazy when you tried to order a burger at a fucking diner. Well, he could suck your dick because it’s not your fault he was probably too broke to get anything more than potato wedges.  

The winter air nipped at your skin as you pulled your coat more tightly over your body, making your way to the nearest bus stop and plopping yourself on a bench. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late to catch a ride home. You just wanted to crawl into bed and never have to think about this night again. Or even better, crawl into bed and finally have a partner to cuddle with. 

Time passed by and you blanked out for a moment, staring at your Mary Janes and softly humming to yourself. It’s not until you hear another person come up and sit next to you do you finally tear your eyes away from the ground. And you do what literally anyone else would do, take a look at who was sitting next to you. 

Holy shit.

Now, you’ve seen beautiful women all your life. To you, every girl out there was beautiful. But damn, in the most respectful way possible, that was one pretty lady. You didn’t really know what to think at the moment. Couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was so attractive about her. Everything seemed to be the appropriate answer. From the grey streaks in her hair to her brown bomber jacket fitted snuggly over her body. But something about the way she held an unlit cigarette between her lips made you feel especially warm from under the collar of your shirt. 

It was like she walked out of one of those badass fighting games where men hate her and women love her. Or even better: where men hate her and women want to kiss you. You’d like to kiss her. Wrinkles and grey hairs and all. If she’s not graying then she’s not staying you’d often joke. But this you might actually be deadass.

“Uhm, Miss?” What the hell am I doing?

The woman’s eyes snapped towards you and you could practically do a back flip into traffic. Whether out of embarrassment or excitement, you didn’t know. She’s got real pretty eyes, pale blue eyes, and not the usual scary soul-piercing blue eyes. 

You gingerly pointed to the cigarette between her lips and before you could think about the fact you’re probably about to embarrass yourself, you asked your next question. 

“Can I have one?” 

What the actual fuck am I doing, I’ve never smoked a day in my life.

And clearly, the lady thought so too, cocking an eyebrow at your nervous face. Silence. Awkward silence. And then she scoffed, digging her hand into her coat pocket. “You sure you want one, baby?” 

Okay, that has to be a murder attempt.

The heat on your face was unbearable as you nod like a puppy, feeling so stupid and embarrassed and turned on all at the same time. Thank god for the darkness of the night, your faces poorly illuminated by flickering street lamps.

A pack of Marlboros and a violet lighter are in her hand, those pretty and slender hands that any girl would fawn over. She flicked the pack open and pulled a cigarette out for you, holding it up to your lips. 

Wait a minute…am I being flirted with?

You’ve never been the sharpest tool in the shed. Most of the time when it came to other people, it was like your light bulb was on but no one was home. So you took the cigarette between your teeth, awkwardly staring at her so she’d get the idea to light it for you. Because, duh, you don’t have a lighter. 

Fake smoker. And for what? Five seconds of getting to make eye contact with a milf? Embarassing. 

The woman lit her own cigarette and raised it to her lips, taking a long drag as the end began to glow. You heard as she breathed in deeply and later saw as she exhaled smoke into the air. And then she tucked her lighter and Marlboros back in her pocket, leaving you like an idiot just sitting there as you stared at her.

Okay, great, let’s just ignore me now and while you’re at it why don’t you curb-stomp me? Does God just not want me to get laid or something because what is-

“Hold still, pretty girl.”

“Huh?”

Another chuckle from the lady is all you heard before she reached out to grab your chin. Her fingers so gently cradled your jaw, holding you in place as she leaned in close. *Oh my god.* All she does is stare at you for a moment and you drink in the way her lips quirked into a little smirk and how that playful glint in her eyes seemed to shine.

Holy shit, I am being flirted with.

With a gentle touch, the woman brought the lit end of her cigarette to yours, the ends kissing as your cigarette sparked to life. Your eyes locked onto hers, faces inches apart as you shared a moment of surprising intimacy. You could smell fresh laundry on her and even hints of cedar wood, easily becoming one of the sexiest scents in the world. 

And once there’s a steady glow from your cigarette she pulled away and you had to consciously stop yourself from following her. It’s been maybe about thirty seconds but you already missed her scent and closeness. 

Oh my god, get off the ground!

Enough about your pathetic self. You had a bigger problem now. Smoking. You couldn’t just have this burning thing between your lips. Not when Pretty Woman was still looking at you. So you did the only thing that makes sense at the moment; take a drag. 

So…you were right. As you took a deep breath in, you didn’t look all cool or suave or whatever. No. Of course not! You started coughing uncontrollably, eyes watering from the harsh smoke as you let out a wheeze. I need to kill myself now. Like right now.

But maybe some divine intervention took place in the next few moments. Maybe your guardian angel looked at you and thought wow, this girl can’t be bitchless forever and took pity on you. Once more you felt a calloused yet tender hand cup your face, the woman’s other hand pulling the cigarette out of your mouth. “You’re funny,” she mused, letting the stick drop to the floor and snuffing it out from under her boot. “Do you always risk your lungs for women your mom’s age?”

Okay, damn, no need to come for my throat like that. “No, not really. But usually, I’m doing something embarrassing anyways so this doesn’t really matter.” Wow, way to sound like a fucking loser.

And she laughed. Her nose scrunched up as she chuckled and you didn’t care if she was making fun of you or thought you were a grade-A freak, you don’t think you’ve ever been so wet before. It’s so dumb because you don’t even know her name and she’s literally just a lady but she’s so much more than that because she looked so…hot.

“You just get cuter and cuter. Hold up.” You watched dumbly as she pulled her hand away, fishing out the Marlboros pack and a pen. Of course, she has a pen, she might as well pull out a rabbit wand next. Something gets scribbled on the front and she tossed it to you, nearly dropping it on the floor as you fumbled to grab it. 

She laughed again, almost akin to a giggle. She stood up, patted you on the head, and walked off like at the end of an epic action film while dramatic 80s music plays in the background.

What the fuck just happened?

To think this all happened because of a date. You finally took a look at the cigarette pack in your hand and, no fucking way, you nearly started jumping for joy. 

There were three things written on the pack. A name, a number, and a little message. Jill Valentine. You finally had a name for your Pretty Lady. At the very bottom, it read, “Glad I spotted you before I walked into that diner. Same time, same place next Friday? :)” 

[lemotmo]

Celebrate people it's happening. And if you don't want to be here for it then leave 🎉🎉

Q. I'm very confused by the reaction to the goodbye footage that was leaked. Did people honestly believe they weren't going to get a goodbye scene? They were always going to get one and just like every other scene in television it will be open to the audience's interpretation of the scene to decide what it does or doesn't mean.

A. I'm very confused by this ask, anon. No one is freaking out because they're getting a goodbye scene, of course they were always going to get a scene for just the two of them. People are freaking out because of how the scene is being framed. We have no actual context for the scene. We don't know what's coming before this scene or after this scene. We don't really have any dialogue, with the exception of a couple of lines, but the scene just doesn't look like a scene between two friends. It looks like a scene you would give a couple. They're touching. They both go to their tiptoes during the hug which makes them even closer than they already were. Buck initially goes to give the standard bro back tap but instantly stops and actually pulls Eddie in tighter. Right before the hug he appears to be smiling at Eddie but the minute the hug prevents Eddie from seeing his face it becomes crestfallen and sad. Look at the image before the hug where Buck gives him the cookies. Look how Oliver chose to play that. Hands crammed in his pockets, head down with a bashful smile. That is not a friendly posture. That is a flirty, nervous cutesy posture. Nothing about anything we saw in that footage said friends. That is why people were freaking out. And the fact that the network did nothing to prevent the footage from being 'leaked' is also kind of a big deal. It feels like they were testing the reaction. They are well aware of how that footage looks. And it feels like they allowed it to be leaked to see what the overall reaction to the appearance of an intimate scene, and yes a scene can be intimate without being outright romantic, would be. It felt like a sort of dry run to see how an intimate scene between the two of them might be received. And the reception was overwhelmingly positive. So it accomplished everything they wanted. It was free press, and it's been free press for the better part of 3 days now. And it was well received press. There was zero downside to allowing it to happen. So people were understandably excited.

I have received a ton of 'all media is open to interpretation' takes and that is just not at all accurate. Yes some scenes are intentionally vague or open to the viewers interpretation, but not most of them, and certainly not all of them. Take the final scene of The Sopranos. The scene fades to black with the family sitting in the restaurant eating. So the viewer gets to decide what happened next. Were they killed or did they live? Depends on who you ask. But most of the time there is a specific direction or point to a scene. The dialogue, the wardrobe, the set, it all contributes to what the creators want the audience to see, hear and take away from what they are watching. That's how you get a storyline. If everything was just open to whatever anyone's interpretation of everything was then they would just film random shit at random locations. That's not what happens. There is usually an intended purpose for most scenes The creators and writers are expecting their audience to have basic media literacy skills. And quite frankly 911 isn't being sneaky with what they're doing. Just because a particular viewer or group of viewers doesn't like a storyline doesn't mean the storyline isn't happening. They don't just get to say I refuse to acknowledge it so that means it's not happening. That's not how any of this works.

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated, as always! 😋

Okay, listen... the time for 'the scene is open for interpretation' is OVER when it comes to Buddie.

The show has practically spelled it out to us that this is happening. Buddie is on its way! There's no stopping it!

We've been 'interpreting' scenes for a long time, up until season 6 really. But then everything changed when season 7 aired. We needed less and less interpretation and more conviction, because it's ALL right there!

We just have to start believing what we see and what the show is telling us. I think that's the most difficult thing of all for some people, actually believing that YES... what you think is happening? IT IS HAPPENING!

And this is happening. That goodbye scene in the rain? The fact that they get it in the first place? And separately from the rest of the 118?

What more could you possibly want to see? It's all right there!

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[protectingtulpas]

Considering getting into tulpamancy, any advice you think doesn't get mentioned nearly as much as it should?

Hmmm this is a good question, stuff that isn't talked about a lot.... I can think of a few things, actually!

Here's some certified random tulapancy advice from my own wisdom lmao

🔥 parrotnoia is almost completely counterable (especially for our "logical" brain) by asking your tulpa a follow-up to whatever response they gave. if they respond with anything near legible and sensible then you should treat it like it's a real response, even if you're not sure! You'll build up an understanding of what's your thoughts and what're your tulpa's eventually, and once you do, you'll be able to trust that second response. Sometimes I even have a problem with this from my side so like it's not just a host thing fr. If your brain just repeats the same or a similar thing over and over again though, it's probably just a repeating thought. We get those a lot cus of our adhd. (host wants me to say that if your tulpa is comfy with it and solid enough, you can ask them to reassure u that they're real. we do that a lot when they get paranoid)

🔥 self awareness isn't a lightswitch. There'll probably be a wide ocean between your tulpa's first signs of acting independently and them feeling like a fully solid person that's just as aware as you are. I was literally choosing where to move in wonderland within a day of starting forcing (i had an advantage cuz host had a form and wonderland ready for me lol, but some ppl like to go slower!) but it was months before it finally hit my host that the things I were saying by then was undeniably *me*. For them to realize, it actually took me diverging from their expectation by saying i wasn't too interested in hollow knight lmao. basically what I'm saying is there's a lot of in between so don't stress over black and white outcomes and such

🔥 It's way easier to start with partial possession first before learning how to fully switch. First time I used the body was just using the voice to sing and it was awesome, it's what a lot of newbies do to learn now

🔥 oh yeah if you're musically minded then MAKE A PLAYLIST FOR UR TULPA it'll help sooo much. Either start out with what you think they'll like and then let them curate it and add stuff later on, or turn it into a forcing exercise where you listen to different songs and try to feel if your tulpa is enjoying it or not, and add it to the playlist if it seems like they are! (If you're the kinda person that struggles with active forcing, putting on some appropriate bg music might help! keeps ur brain occupied and buzzing)

🔥 Unless they end up the same exact gender as you and a similar presentation, your tulpa is probably gonna have at least a bit of wonky gender feelings, and that's ok. they may end up being genderqueer in some way & they might not! It's their choice what label to use for themselves, not yours as the host.

🔥 Be prepared to split your budget at least a little bit if your tulpa ends up enjoying outerworld stuff a lot. Casey (a soulbond) and I like different types of fashion a ton, I like thrill rides and going to clubs and shows. We don't have a lot but we work it out so at least our most frequent fronters get to indulge a little sometimes - it's great if you can find something multiple ppl like

🔥 Your tulpa's sense of... mmm, let's say wisdom? Will be a bit different from yours. We're in a weird position - we're in a brain that's lived a whole biological life up to that point, with lots of experiences and instinctive patterns and understandings and shit built into us, cus that's just how the brain works. We also can look at the host's memories whenever we want, barring any outside issues. But at the same time we're also straight up *new,* thrown into the world without most of a childhood to grow up in (usually) or an entire life to build up a sense of self and figure ourselves out. We can see host's memories but they're not Ours, we didn't experience em. Y'know how teenagers are kinda weird and flip-floppy sometimes because they're still figuring themselves out? A lot of tulpas can be the same way, especially when we're new. They might go back and forth on basic opinions, struggle to understand topics you get already, sorta just miss things sometimes, or become super singleminded when they find something that gives them a sense of self. Basically just give your tulpa a wide range of things to do/try, and understand that we're pretty much speedrunning all the emotional + logical development that most hosts had their whole lives to work on.

✨ If anyone else has any other ideas go ahead and reblog + add stuff!!! ✨

[frankieunscripted]

My 2025 Superbowl Halftime Show Analysis

Welcome back to my blog! I ain't forgot about y'all, and I'm still cooking up a deep dive on the Kendrick vs Drake beef (and when I say deep, I mean I'm tryna take it way back to the origin, cause y'all know this shit been simmering in a green cauldron). Anyways, here are my thoughts and ideas (an analysis, if you will) of Kendrick's 2025 Superbowl Halftime Show performance. Note that you have to have seen it in its entirety alteast once in order to take stuff away from this. Let's get this shit!

Bleachers: loading screen going up to 100 like on a video game Stage: Playstation Buttons: Square, X, Triangle, Circle • "The Great American Game" • The Superbowl = biggest American sports event, football being a literal game • The American Game as in chasing The American Dream, the game being rigged; some people have better chances than others, it ain't fair play • Not only the American dream (aka making it big out of nowhere) but just living your life in America can also be seen as "The American Game", especially with games often being connected to pure luck (if you play with dice) as opposed to skill > metaphor for the black experience in the US (ties in to FEAR. (2017) from 17 y/o Kendrick's perspective; I'mma get back to that for the record)

Samuel L. Jackson as Uncle Sam: • SAMUEL L. JACKSON!?!?!?!? • same first name makes it even better • Samuel being one of the biggest Afro-American actors of the century. Our parents grew up watching him, we grew up watching him • usually has roles in movies dealing with racism > "No better than Samuel L on the Django" in i (2014) • previous points make him somewhat of an authority figure in the black media culture (think of Oprah as another e.g.) • Uncle Sam is usually white, a Black version of Uncle Sam is unheard of, because black people don't really represent America "like that"

Lights on bleachers say START, Kendrick starts standing on top of Buick Grand National GNX • Car his Dad drove him home in from the hospital the day he was born > car he started the Great American Game in (game as metaphor for living in America) • Album cover of latest album GNX: Kendrick leaning on the hood of the car; also Grand National Tour starting right about now (National as in USA + 2 Toronto stops, just to claim Drake's city as "part of the Nation") • "all I ever wanted was a black grand national" now he has it > making origins and wished meet your accomplishments

Tiramisu (/Bodies): • GNX album teaser. Kendrick posted that nameless snippet as a teaser for his album on a random Friday morning (morning itself is weird, bc everyone else posts during prime time/at midnight) then half an hour later we got the album. boom. no further roll out, cause he doesn't NEED to do more at that point. But Tiramisu isn't even on the album. We don't know how & when we'll get it, we don't even know what it's called. Some call it Tiramisu, others call it Bodies • Tiramisu started the album roll out > Tiramisu started the halftime show

Hood/Gang: • more people jumping out of the car than fit in it: Back in the day, the homies would just pack into a car and ride around town. No matter where you were going (the hood, the club, some other place), you'd squeeze in all of your friends into that one car > that old 90s cat shit, like when they show you a tape record and ask "whachu kno bout dis, huh?" - cultural/generational differences compared to today's generation > maybe a way of Kendrick connecting to his older audience

Colors: blue, red and white • American flag (stripes n stars) • Gang Symbolism: Bloods (red) vs Crips (blue) • Republicans vs. Democrats (> "Democrips and Rebloodicans/ red state vs. blue state/ which one you governin'?" on Hood Politics (2015) - AND THE COLORS EVEN FUCKING MATCH IN THAT LINE) • bottom line: divide, fight between 2 opposing camps that simply cannot be united (opposing views: politics)/ reconciled (bad blood & pride: gangs) • >some BBC article claimed the stage is a tictactoe field, which yeah, I see why (big field with square-shaped compartments, circles and Xs, if you don't look close enough to notice the triangle and square) = also a game and a game that only two partys can play at that (analogy between red vs blue = x vs. o), as opposed to a playstation that could be a multiplayer game

"The revolution 'bout to be televised, you picked the right time, but the wrong guy" • Drake picked the wrong opponent • Trump was watching > political "revolution", atleast a heavy statement with a clear message: blackness (*I'mma get back to that for the record) • "the right time" as in everybody will see this performance, the whole country is watching The Great American Game right now and every single one will atleast hear about it online/ at work the next day • "the wrong guy" as in Kendrick is not just some Bruno Mars, The Weeknd, Usher type performer. He will try and make a point and not just give us a few hype songs

"No, no, no, no! Too loud, too reckless, too... ghetto! Mr. Lamar, do you really know how to play the game? Then tighten up!" • first of all props on SLJ for delivery without cussing, because you know he wanted to! And it might've been even more impactful with cussing • "too ghetto": This is a black halftime show. All his people (I'll say his community) jumping out that one car (that has been the dream car of many people in Kendrick's life) and squabble up as a whole have been too ghetto, too black • "do you even know how to play": aka you're doing it wrong! this is not what you should be doing, you shouldn't act this black around here

HUMBLE. & DNA.: • obviously: the American flag, but it's divided. "America tried to make it a house divided" on i (2014) referring to the House Divided Lincoln speech. Paraphrased: "America is a house divided, which cannot continue to stand divided; it will fall. It has to become either this or that in order to be secure." Lincoln meant North vs South in the slavery conflict, Kendrick put his spin on it about the black community in i, meaning the culture itself is divided (through generational trauma, gang culture, internalized racism, etc). Today we can put that extra spin onto America and the 2 parties because the colors fit so well and the last election ain't too long ago. Plus everyone was fucking devastated = divide --- Now, does him standing in the middle mean he knows how to unite them? Or is it him standing in the middle on neutral ground?, like with the gangs? Kendrick himself has ties to certain gangs and friends in gangs (Top Dawg (from his former label TDE) was a blood, but Snoop Dog is associated with the crips), but has never officially claimed to belong to any of the two • divide between gangs: July 2024 pop out concert in LA. Kendrick brought different hoods and gangs onto the stage for that concert. For us it's just westside shenanigans, but people who grew up in that environment and who live in these parts knew exactly: "okay wow, he brought some people unto the stage together who normally cannot be seen in the same hood without shots getting fired". > reincarnated (2024): "I put 100 hoods on one stage/ I'm tryna push peace in LA" This obviously doesn't mean he "solved" gang violence, but for many higher ups in the gangs that was a sign of being able to find a common denominator within hating others (people especially in the hiphop scene who disrespect the westside and Drake and his camp in general). Call it United in Beef instead of United in Grief (2022) (y'all should really pay me at this point for the educomedy I give you For Free? (2015)).

Costumes (HUMBLE.): • Context: 2022 Half Time Show: black suits, blonde hair, "Dre Day"-Sashes. Everyone looked the exact same back then, so Kendrick would stand out more. It's him and then one intelligible mass as background dancers • individuality in unity (at least for the guys): they have different hairstyles (beanies, durags, braids, cornrows, fros, top fades, ...) It's Kendrick as the big star and then it's the culture. Every one of them looks a bit different, but they're unified by their colors and their clothes • female background dancers all look the same (all wear the same wig): I feel like that must've been intentional. Sth sth women being undermined in hiphop/the black community and especially in America rn • Kendrick's outfit: • Gloria on the front of the jacket: closing track on his latest album, tells story of how he fell in love with writing and lyricism > boasting "his pen's name" on his jacket as a way of priding himself with his lyrics and wit and knowing that that is mostly the reason people listen to him. We don't stick to Kendrick because of his fashion, his lifestyle, his instagram or sth like that. We heard of him because of his music and his storytelling and that is what we know and love him for - and he knows that as well • peakaboo (2024) on the sleeve: Song he performed in the x button of the game (I will also get back to that later on) • "Keep them away from me" backprint on his shirt: "don't lay your life in these weird n-words' hands" on tv off (2024): referring to every weird rapper/celeb in the industry right now (there's some other bar on GNX that fits, but I forgot what song it was on - I shall update if I find it) There's a video of Kendrick celebrating after the show in which he's not wearing the blue varsity jacket anymore so you can actually see the words on his back. • not a fan of the 68k Rahmaninov broche on his cap cause it's literally just a wing and you could have spend 68k better, but who am I, the man gives back all the time, let him have his stuff. There's other rappers who spend more on more atrocious shit

HUMBLE. & DNA significance: • Humble (2017) one of his biggest hits that everyone, who has ever heard of Kendrick through the mainstream (pre-May 2024 and not just through their friends), knows • DNA (2017) off the same album, deals with pride, confidence in blackness and upbringing, values: "I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA" (music video is Kendrick in cuffs being interrogated by a white officer > implications of racism as always), but in the end there's a beat switch, where he's out on the streets with his posse, so also blackness and hanging around outside type shenanigans can be associated with the song) • both songs are among his most played songs, especially off that album (probably also the most played album because mainstream), so that is his effort to make it more "party anthem"-y like all the other halftime shows. But he did say they chose the wrong guy for this. He won't give us maad city or Alright (again), he won't bust out Backseat Freestyle or N95 just for us to get hype, even if Uncle Sam might've hinted at that being the way to go about the Great American Game

bleachers: Warning Wrong Way • I could see the www alliteration meaning something too, idk • "warning within the game": aka hey, Sam told you not too be loud, reckless and ghetto and you continued with HUMBLE., DNA. and now euphoria - choose sth more... tame? > wrong way to play the game • or "warning outside of the game": keep doing your thing and don't switch it up now (don't become less ghetto because they told you to) wrong way to go about your blackness • or "warning about not starting to mention the beef": you better not play euphoria cause this is the Superbowl, why would you mention beef on here? That's unheard of > wrong way to deal with this platform • or "warning against Drake himself": you woke up the boogeyman and this is your warning to not make it worse than it already is right now. > Wrong way to handle your career (cause you lost the beef) and wrong rapper to challenge (cause kendrick is the boogeyman and you underestimated him)

euphoria: • why exactly that part? hype enough and pg enough probably, but with K.dot there's usually more to it. Making a point of how Drake sucks and in what ways he's different from him ("Oh you thought the money, power, fame would make you go away"-line?) • "have you ever hunt your enemy down with a pokerface": playing into the fact that kendrick never loses face. That man steps into the booth, does his thing, makes us marvel at it and goes home. Stays offline. You can't say shit that will make this guy record an aggravated insta story on the lies you've spread. As opposed to Drake who literally does the exact opposite on every level. And that mischievous smile into the camera in that moment - gold!

man at the garden: • makes me wanna cry • doesn't usually have this acapella theme, so the fact there's multiple male background singers supporting his flow to me is a brotherhood thing again • person chilling on the streetlamp as a call back to the Alright music video (2015) in which he flies through the streets and also chills on top of a streetlamp • vibing with the gang, everyone looks hood: like he's sitting at the corner store with his posse. typical black stereotype: troubled youth on the street who don't know anything but how to linger around • "keep these bums away from me" call back to the print on the back of that shirt he's wearing and the line on tv off I mentioned earlier • "did it with integrity, these boys tryna hate on me" applies to a lot (the beef, being offline all the time/ his long hiatus, the grammys), but lets apply it to the halftime show: critics say it was too black, heavy, symbolic and not party enough. he did it with integrity and now him making a clear and much needed statement isn't good enough for many critics • "I deserve it all, cause it's mine/ tell me why you deserve the greatest of all time, mf" (he said in an interview that that was the song off the album he wanted everyone to hear and really listen to and understand) > he deserves everything the last year has given him - Not Like Us being successful, being hailed as the Drakenslayer, dropping an acclaimed album, winning 5 Grammys and performing at the Superbowl

"Ohh, so you brought your homeboys with you? The old culture cheat code. Score-keeper, deduct one life!" • The "culture cheat code" = against the rules of the Great American Game • hanging around the corner on the street with the homies ("shit I'm with the homies, just riding, just ridin" The Art Of Peer Pressure (2012)) is the wrong way to play it. You should go to school, go home, do the work and be nice, calm and collected aka "white" • the culture cheat code: within the Game, we're aware of the discrepancy between certain, opposing camps. The culture cheatcode would be bringing your friends and unifying people so they stand as one and are ready to battle. If that is not allowed and gets you fined, that means you have to play the game on your own = you play against a bot, an end boss, an AI, whatever: an NPC that is the same for every game (as opposed to multiplayer where you can play against each other). That Game's end boss could be too hard to beat, everytime you try to beat the game (aka in every life you live - "reincarnated" > implying mulitple lifetimes- you lose against the Game's entity, because it's rigged and you're on your own against a boss you can't control or foresee (the industry, society, a construct, the monopoly) • "deducting 1 life" = taking one life? metaphore for gang violence, losing friends on the street just like that, because you played it wrong. Possible call back to FEAR. (2017): "I'll prolly die anonymous, I'll prolly die with promises/ I'll prolly die walkin' back home from the candy house/ I'll prolly die because these colors are standin' out/ I'll prolly die because I ain't know Demarcus was snitchin'/ I'll prolly die at these house parties - / I'll prolly die from witnesses leavin' me false accused/ I'll prolly die from thinkin' that me and your hood was cool/ Or maybe die from pressin' the line, actin' too extra/ Or maybe die because these smokers are more than desperate/ I'll prolly die from one of these bats and blue badges/ Body slammed on black and white paint, my bones snappin'/ Or maybe die from panic or die from bein' too lax/ Or die from waitin' on it, die 'cause I'm movin' too fast/ I'll prolly die tryna buy - at the apartments/ I'll prolly die tryna diffuse two homies arguin'/ I'll prolly die 'cause that's what you do when you're 17/ All worries in a hurry, I wish I controlled things"

>So many ways to die, because you went against the rules (playing the game on the street with your homies /being seen around the wrong people and falsely accused). This has been part of his life forever and part of his music since atleast fucking 2012 >"I done lost too many friends, 16 to be specific" wacced out murals (2024): could be friends in the industry being shady and turning away, or actually him mourning over "the dead homies" (2015)

peakaboo: • Now. Hold my hand cause shit is turbulent, okay? Get your tinheads out, I need you to follow me • 2018, rapper XXXTentacion dies in a shooting. Shooters still haven't been found to this day, although there were suspects. X was beefing with Drake at the time. Just a few months before his passing, X made the Helping Hand Challenge, where he basically told his fans to do something good (spread kindness, yada yada) in their environment and to post it, so he could see and repost it. Iirc, he also mentioned you should do nice things for strangers even if you don't end up posting it. Drake ripped off his challenge for the God's Plan music video (2018) and posted a similar challenge to his followers on Instagram as well, which X saw as a jab at him. The peakaboo sample in the beginning features the words "Helping Hand", which if you listen to the lyrics seems out of place, if you don't pin it to this theory • There are rumors about Drake having sent his shooters after X and basically ordering to kill him ALLEGEDLY. (We don't know shit, but Drake's name did come up in court; allegedly). If you've seen my previous "My Reasons To Hate Drake" post from May 2024 (which: y'all showed me so much love on this, thank you), then you'll know I already hinted at this even back then. (If you haven't seen it, but are interested in the beef: whatchu waiting for, dawg?) I'll spare you more details, because there IS more, but right now it's just important that you know that that's a theory that has been floating around ever since X died at 20 fucking years old. The boy was just as old as me writing this. During the beef it came up again because it's one more reason to hate Drake for and when people heard peakaboo, they spun the theory further. Kendrick had a rapper from the same area as X, Kodak Black, on his 2022 album and he apparently made some subliminal hints on the song Silent Hill. Peakaboo is also big on the whole "i got money and I got friends in the hood who will definitely gang bang and take someone out - so you better watch ya back" energy, which parodies Drake's songs shortly after X's passing, which obviously made people pipe up even more. Kendrick refers to and parodies a bunch of shit Drake said on his tracks in 2018 that can be linked to X • he performs peekaboo in the X button of the game. the X. for XXXTentacion. Shit is always intentional with this man, so for this to be a coincidence... idk man • saying "peekaboo" and him coming into frame from below is fucking hilarious • Kendrick performed the AzChike's verse (the rapper featuring on the song) and not his own, which made the rapper and his crew really happy.

"I wanna perform they favorite song, but you know they love to sue" • Drake has been tryna sue Kendrick over Not Like Us, but he doesn't want that to be the reason he doesn't play it. It's a whole can of worms I'll tackle some other post

SZA on luther and All The Stars • SZA in all red while Kendrick's wearing blue • SZA is going on tour with him, they've collabed since 2017 • SZA used to date Drake in like 2009 • All The Stars is part of the Black Panther soundtrack and one of his most acclaimed songs in the mainstream > that's why we get Uncle Sam's positive reaction • "fuck you and all your expectations/ I don't even want you congratulations. (...) Ion even like you" someone spinned that unto Drake because back when All The Stars came out, Kendrick won an award over Drake and he tried to play it cool and Kendrick was like "ugh wdym, just stfu, don't even act like you care"

"That's what I'm talking about, this is what America wants! Nice and calm. You're almost there! Now don't mess this-" • SZA as the mainstream entry for the halftime show, the things you'd expect/want on there • someone said "Oh yk sza was also there and she looked great, anyways then this happened" and I was like... she LOOKED great...? Have you HEARD her? Are you on drugs? She's out here doing her job, busting out the double string harmonies and you say "she looked pretty"? ugh. men. > That ties into it. They just hear the performance, but don't listen. They watch, but they don't look. That's why Samuel wanted that, because it's nice and calm and not dangerous. It doesn't say anything

Not Like Us edging: • "it's a cultural divide" > back to the divided point I made before • "40 acres and a mule, this is bigger than the music" ties into the line that comes up again and again on tpab: some civil war shit from 1865 (black history) where some families were freed and allotted 40 acres and a mule, so now it's become a saying for reparations to black people. Kendrick has been playing with this saying since 2015. Now it's bigger than just music. This is a black Superbowl Halftime show, he's making it bigger than just music, he's trying to give back to the community, trying to shed light on the culture that has been dominating the world's trends but is always overlooked, underappreciated and pushed aside in their own country • "they tried to rig the game but you can't fake influence": he's got the influence and he will use it the best he can for the things he finds important, even with someone trying to sue him over a song

NOT LIKE US: • "Say Drake" and smiling into the cam mischeviously • calling out the people (PARTYNEXTDOOR, chubbs, baka, Drake) • If you thought the Grammys "A Minor" was wild, you haven't heard the 5 Pop out concert "A Minors". If you thought those were as big as it gets, you haven't heard the whole Superbowl shout "A MINORRRRRR" yet • Serena Williams, tennis star in all blue (crip affiliations) crip walking on the side as her ex (back in 2011) gets called a pedophile is wild. She once got fined at a tennis match for crip-walking, so her doing it at the superbowl is a power move for her as well • Yes, they did indeed date, and drake started beef with another rapper (Common) over her after they broke up - (drake behavior, just look at him not being able to let go of Rihanna), and apparently talked shit on social media. some say he even stalked her, but that's YouTube comments, I don't have sources yet

TV OFF: MUSTAAAARD: • necklace: capital M for Mustard • but Kendrick's necklace is a lowercase a aka A MINORRRRRR (it's actually his record label's pgLang logo, but still) • and if you put both of their necklaces together it says aM, like A MINORRRRRRRRRR • also Mustard reppin Cali fashion with his baggy jeans (BBC said they're "the baggiest jeans in the world", lol) • mustard yellow accents on his jacket cause it's Mustaaaaard! • why is he here? - giving mustard his flowers: This wouldn't have been possible without him. Mustard has been a renowned LA producer for years, but producers hardly get any recognition for their work (if you aren't Timbaland and have your own studio albums, multiple verses on other people's records you produced, you're bound to fly under the radar. Take MetroBoomin e.g. I've been listening to Metro's beats for years!, but I only found out what he looked like when I saw him live at Rolling Loud, only to forget again, until the beef kicked off last May and I saw more pics of him). Kendrick had Mustard in the Not Like Us music video and on stage for the pop out concert they had in LA in July (they played Not Like Us 5 times back to back, yall dont fucking get it). The Pop Out concert has even bigger implications for LA itself (refer back to "I put 100 hoods on one stage/ I'm tryna push peace in LA" on reincarnated), but just know that Not Like Us and in turn also Mustard who fucking made Not Like Us happen was a big part of that. Kendrick had him come up stage at the Grammys because again: those 5 grammys might've been a few less if it hadn't been for Mustard's typical LA production. This is a Westside anthem, just like TV Off, so of course Mustard must also join at the halftime show. Also aspeaking of the LA, Westside: a lot of lesser known LA rappers featured on gnx, because Kendrick wanted to give them a platform which is really sweet. At this point kendrick could've asked literally anyone for a feature. I'm sure 2Pac would spit some heat over an ouija board if he only could, but kendrick chose to support his people and the brobros from the hood

TURN THIS TV OFF: • smiles into cam, mimics remote and then Game Over flashes on the bleachers - YALL FUCK MAN, I CANT, I LOVE IT because the game is over, we can turn the tv and the playstation off now • What would've happened if we were to turn the TV off at that exact moment? We wouldn't have seen the rest of the game which... it was clear the eagles were gonna win because it was the first time a team had failed to score a single point before halftime (I know that doesn't mean anything, but still). So yeah, we wouldn't have seen the game's end. We wouldn't have seen the following commercials, so our thoughts would've been on the performance still. People usually watch the superbowls together, so turning your tv off could've resulted in some family quality time, best case scenario, we could've discussed the Halftime show more, gotten people's opinions and analysis (from the first watch ofc, thats usually not that deep)

•"Turn the TV off": the game is literally over, turn the TV off, stay away from the media, the destructive culture that has been using and oppressing Black people for ages.

MORE THOUGHTS: • breath control be crazy, HAVE YOU HEARD HIM RAP!? fucking goated. • this was for the culture. I see people not liking it because they don't get the cultural impact behind it, because they don't like heavy statements during their fun and games Halftime show, but this is just what it is: This was for the culture and it was much needed. We're gonna have to look past the "but there was no party anthem in that performance" (you clearly don't know anything about squabble up, HUMBLE., DNA., Not Like Us and TV Off, if you couldn't dance or get hype to that) "You picked the right time, but the wrong guy": he is not gonna put his principles past him and go into a whole different direction just to appeal the masses, just to get hype when that is not what he WANTS to do. • the bad game probably had many fans demotivated already, so the pre-requisits for the halftime show were perhaps a bit different from what they might have been if both team would've scored better

RECORD BREAKING SHIT:

• This Superbowl was the most watched Superbowl of all time

•The Halftime show was the most viewed Halftime show EVER. This also means Kendrick broke THE Michael Jackson's record for performing the most watch halftime show in 1993 and his performance is now the most watched event in US TV history since the fucking MOON LANDING. Do you fucking understand what that means for the country???

• The halftime show had MORE viewers than the fucking game itself, meaning many people ONLY tuned in for Kendrick Lamar and quite literally turned their TVs off after his performance.

•Kendrick was the first rapper to ever perform solo at the Superbowl, the first one to ever play a disstrack at the superbowl (two in actuality), the first rapper to ever win a grammy for a disstrack (5, count 'em!), and the first rapper to ever win 5 grammys for a single song (previously only Up, Up, and Away (1968) by The 5th Dimension won 5, and 3 other songs won 4 grammys, but none of them in the genre of hiphop, because it hasn't been mainstream for "that" long).

•Kendrick broke the record for Monthly Listeners on Spotify for a rap artist. We got 11 more months to go in this year and this year is already insane for him and if you take 2024 into account, shit just gets wilder. I remember saying hiphop is back in May last year and it truly is.

AND WITH THAT I'll let you rewatch this banger of a performance again. Lawd knows I was already on my 6th rewatch in the first 24 hours. Please comment about literally ANYTHING that comes to mind, hit me up about details, ask away if there's more to explain and please also school me if I'm wrong (but be nice about it!).

I love interacting with y'all on here, so yeah: gimme your thoughts, while I hide away after I literally forgot about this blog lmao

[badgalsasuke]

Do we know anything about how Sakura was created? Was it Kishimoto’s idea to create such a character or was she added by the editors so that the story wouldn’t look even more gay?

Hey anon!

yes, Kishimoto has talked about Sakura's creation before. He talked about it in the first official Naruto fanbook that came out in 2002

He also talked about it for the Jump SQ interview he did in 2014 [Full Interview]

Basically, Kishimoto didn't know how to come up with an actual plot or a conflict for the manga after he was done with the pilot chapter, so his editor Yahagi who was beast mode for Naruto suggested creating a rival (Sasuke) and then a heroine (Sakura).

I don't know for sure if Yahagi suggested a traditional love triangle (two boys fighting over a girl) and then Kishimoto was like "no, thank you" and did his own gay thing or if right off the bat Yahagi knew what Kishimoto intended which was Sakura and Naruto chasing and fighting over Sasuke, the gay version of a love triangle, basically making Sakura a character that was conceived as a red herring from the beginning.

I personally think it's the second one and let me tell you why, Kishimoto *LOVES* Yahagi (some mangakas hate their editors like Togashi lowkey), in every interview where he talks about that man he's always so grateful for having to work with him and saying how he learned so much from him and so on which leads me to believe Yahagi was a very flexible editor when it came to the story, but also that Yahagi himself has talked about how he saw something fresh in Kishimoto's writing that wasn't being done in shonen when he was first assigned as an editor to him. Now, it could be that "fresh" aspect was the colorful foreign looking ninjas, a concept which before Kishimoto didn't exist but it could also be that he took the relationship between two boys (the main character and his rival) in shonen manga beyond what was accepted and running at the time. Yahagi is not dumb, he was supervising 100 other mangakas and worked with Kishimoto from 1995 to 2008, that's 13 long ass years so you can't pull the "Kishimoto accidentally wrote Naruto and Sasuke gay" because Yahagi would've 100% noticed (if 12 year old kids notice, what makes people think an actual pro-editor wouldn't? lol) and then make Kishimoto correct and change the manga, because that's the other thing, Yahagi was always telling Kishimoto to change shit, a few examples:

Change the story from a fox that can turn into a human boy into the Naruto/Kurama dynamic we saw

Kishimoto wanted Hokages and senseis to be animals (the fourth hokage was a dog before Kishimoto came up with Minato) and Yahagi had him turn them into humans.

Kishimoto wanted Kakashi's rival to be from another village and introduce him during the Land of the Waves arc, Yahagi made him wait to properly develop a rival and make him from Konoha instead, that's how we got Gai.

Speaking of Gai, it was Yahagi who designed Gai and Rock Lee based on Bruce Lee

Kishimoto wanted more missions abroad but Yahagi made him instead come up with a tournament arc, that's how we got the Chuunin exams.

These are just a few of his contributions to the manga, that's how much power he had over it, if he didn't like what Kishimoto was doing with Naruto and Sasuke he would have put a stop to it *instantly* and yet it kept going and going and going, to the point Kishimoto talks so fondly of him years after they stopped working together. Yahagi knew and I believe he encouraged Kishimoto even more.

[kiera-raelyn]

Quite frankly, this is one of the appeals of Zutara. Post-canon Zutara fics almost always put Katara on the world stage, usually as an ambassador first, then later Fire Lady (obviously). Sometimes, she gets a seat on Zuko's council in between the two.

But the point is, Katara is usually involved in politics, because duh. She instigated a prison break, for fuck's sake. Got involved with Freedom Fighters. Healed a whole village of enemy civilians (while committing a little eco-terrorism on the side) because she could and no one else was helping! Like, no way does this girl not go into politics. She's not dumb. She would've realized pretty quickly that while direct action has its place and helps people in shitty situations now, you have to address the root causes of the shitty situation, too, or they're going to be in the same place a year from now. While I don't rule out a period of vigilantism a la the Painted Lady, since that's what worked in Jang Hui, I feel like she would've come to see that she could help a lot more people on a much bigger scale by going into government and getting into the room where things like budgeting decisions are made.

LoK and the comics just... completely eviscerated Katara's character. She was relegated to obscurity in LoK. She didn't get a say in the SWT's rebuilding because the writers saw fit to send her off with Aang instead of having her go back home. I feel like the comics portray her as being unreasonable or irrational for having negative feelings about the NWT coming in and basically colonizing the place, but like. No. Girl had a point. And maybe it still would have happened even if she had gone straight home after Zuko's coronation, but at least she would've been there, fighting it.

Which, speaking of the comics and how shitty they are vis a vis Katara... she is the reason behind Republic City! You know, a whole other 5th country? That was Katara! She pretty much single-handedly averted another war and did so by suggesting the creation of a whole new country, with a new form of government!

But no. She didn't go into politics. Why would she do a crazy thing like that? And a statue? Whyever would we build one of her? It's not like she did ever did anything significant.

Also, to get back more on topic of Katara as SWT chief... it hurts my Zutara heart because that situation makes a relationship incredibly difficult, but realistically, yes. If one of Hakoda's kids had to become chief (which may or may not be a good assumption to start with), then yes, Katara is more suited to it. See above examples of why she would've gone into politics.

I'm not saying Sokka would be a bad chief, especially if there's a council of elders helping him. But. That's just not where his passions lie. He's not interested in the day-to-day running of a country and the minutiae of legislation. Let the man build cool shit, maybe make him Trade Chancellor or something. I feel like this is something that NAtLA did well, actually. I'm not a fan of all the decisions made in the live action, but choosing to focus on this aspect of Sokka's character and making it a point of insecurity and conflict for him? 🤌

What do you think about the fact that Sokka became chief of the SWT in canon? Did Katara want the position? If she did, what did she think about Sokka getting it instead of her? And if she didn’t want the position, why?

hello!!! Great question. Oh man I am Not happy about Sokka becoming chief of the SWT…I think he should’ve gone to Ba Sing Se University and gotten an engineering degree and spent his life making cool inventions…

I do think Sokka is a leader, but there are many flavours of leadership and he strikes me more as a very competent bureaucrat more than somebody who makes decisions on the world stage. I think he actually could’ve made a terrific technocratic advisor to someone like Katara, who is not quite as detail-oriented when it comes to solving problems. Like if the Water Tribes ever had, idk, a supply chain or procurement problem, Sokka would be all over that. If we’re talking about who displays more traditional qualities of leadership (willingness to take initiative, comfort with public speaking, tact and diplomacy, willingness to hear out different perspectives, ability to inspire others), Katara has a natural inclination. They could’ve been cool co-rulers too, actually.

As for whether Katara wanted to be Chief: so! Great question! I think if anyone had ever asked Katara “hey do you want to be the Chief of the Southern Water Tribes,” she would’ve been shocked, then said YES. Unequivocally.

But: we don’t see adult women in any positions of power in ATLA, and I think that’s something that Katara subconsciously internalized. As much as she’s a feminist icon who’d fight Pakku, I’m not sure she ever thought about women in positions of political power. Remember that the reason Katara was so set on learning combat waterbending was because the South did have female waterbending fighters, so she knew it was a possibility, but she’s never heard even a hint of the idea that a woman could be a ruler. Even Kiyoshi Island, the girlboss utopia, is run by a man. The only time we see a woman potentially becoming a ruler of anything is when Azula was briefly made Fire Lord, and even then it was pretty clear that she was supposed to be a puppet. In the North, Yue was never going to be Chief and everyone seemed to have accepted that, and Katara doesn’t find it unfair. This sounds so stupid, but I think this is why it’s important to have role models, you know? Katara would 1000% want to be Chief if anyone ever told her that it was an option.

What I do find super weird is how Katara also never seemed interested in a seat on the United Republic Council, even though working with people and pursuing justice and peace is very much Katara’s thing, and we do know that the URC had at least one Councilwoman. I don’t have a Watsonian explanation for Katara’s comparative political irrelevance that isn’t extremely sad (i.e. she decided she’d rather spend energy on restoring Air Temple Island and raising her children instead of pursuing a career in politics even though Toph also did a whole Thing while being a single mom).

I think if the writers of the comics and TLOK had gotten their heads out of the “girl power = girls fight good” mentality, they would have realized that Katara would be an amazing world leader. But they didn’t (and to be fair they seemed to have also forgotten that Katara fights at all), and we must live with the dumpster fire that is Katara’s canon arc.

[thegreatyin]

current fallen london fandom experience feels like im standing at the corner of a party holding a sippy cup going. i thought firmament has been pretty fun and intriguing so far