#coordinated colors found in each of their outfits

[cleoluvrr]

strawberry shortcake (rafe cameron x reader)

got sent home to change 'cause my skirt is too short.

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, non!con, dub!con, spanking, use of belt, victim-blaming, manipulation, degradation, explicit language, depiction of explicit sexual acts

word count: 9.1k

masterlist

you and rafe were…complicated. you’d known him just as long as you’ve known his sister, and yet, you’d never had a particularly great relationship.

your father worked closely with the cameron family. he and ward met each other in college, but went their separate ways after graduation. ward returned to the outer banks after a few years of living on the mainland, slowly making a name for himself as a real estate developer. your own parents moved back to charlotte after graduating, meeting at school and getting married in their hometown. raised in the city, all of your family was there, and all your friends were there. 

one fated day, your parents decided that your entire family was going to pack up and move to the outer banks. you were eight years old at the time, so of course it felt like your entire life was falling apart. everything you ever knew was going to be miles and miles away just because your parents said so. 

it felt so sudden, so unexpected. as far as you were aware, there was no one you knew in the outer banks. your family had a beach house there that you would visit every other summer, but that was all. to you, they might as well have said that you were moving to a deserted island with zero human interaction.

the moment you arrived the summer before you started third grade, it was a complete culture shock. you were used to living in the city; busy streets, skyscrapers that kissed the clouds and lit up with the colors of the rainbow, and so many people that you’d never see them more than twice. kildare was the complete opposite. you could drive across the entire town and back in under two hours and the tallest building in town was a church. everybody knew everybody, and every person had their place.

you only found that after your parents were pulled over by a police officer while driving around figure-eight. it wasn’t too often people that looked like you drove around the “nice” side of town in a shiny, new car. not that they’d never seen it, but they knew all the people that did, and nobody in your family was one of them. you couldn’t count the number of times someone had asked if you were lost or ‘supposed to be here’ when playing around your front yard, taking a walk, or existing in any public place on figure-eight.

your parents allowed you a week to adjust before they threw you into the merciless waters of small town social politics. 

the first time you were properly introduced to the cameron family was during sunday service. you didn’t grow up going to church despite being from the bible belt, mostly because big city life didn’t revolve around it as much as it did in kildare. your parents forced you out of bed early in the morning to get ready, your mother all but stuffing you into the best sunday dress you owned. like any eight-year-old, you complained about it. you hated blue, but your parents insisted on all of your outfits being color-coordinated. the mary janes and frilly socks made you feel like a little kid, but your mom wouldn’t budge on it.

begrudgingly, you sat through an hour long sermon in a church filled with flamboyantly dressed rich people. and then you sat through another hour of brunch with the camerons and their friends, even more annoyed than you were sitting through service in the hot, old chapel.

ward and your father had kept in contact over the years, and it was a couple years before the move that the two of them became business partners. your dad became the cameron family’s lawyer, and it was easier to actually be in the same place as them rather than hundreds of miles away. your mother didn’t mind the move; in fact, she was excited. she worked as an oncologist back home, and the lack of them on the island meant there was great demand for her work.

it was there where you met sarah cameron, the girl that became your friend at first sight. she was younger than you, but at that age it really made no difference. the little blonde girl was excited to meet someone new and declared that you two would be ‘best friends forever just like your dads. though it took some warming up on your part, ever since that day, the pair of you have been attached by the hip.

rafe, however, not so much. 

“hey, sarah?” you called out to the girl standing across from you, her surprised eyes wide as they snapped towards yours after being pulled out of the conversation with her boyfriend. 

“yeah?”

“could you tell your brother to fuck off?” a smile lit up your face as the question slipped from your gloss-covered lips. “please?”

you had come over to sarah’s house a few hours ago, the girl inviting you to attend a large party that her parents planned every summer for the fourth of july. at first, you weren’t too keen on coming, but the two of you hadn’t spent much time together this summer and you felt too guilty to turn her down. this was the summer before you left her for nine months to attend college, and  even though you didn’t want to come, you did it to make her happy.

the moment you stepped foot onto the property, rafe buzzed around your ear like a common house fly with comment after comment on your appearance. 

“what’s the matter, princess?” rafe speaks up from his spot just a few feet away. his head quirks to the side, a look of faux-concern covering his face. “stick up your ass a little too big today?”

topper and kelce chuckle at the comment, attempting to hide the sound by clearing their throats when they catch the dangerous cut of your eyes. your gaze meet rafe’s again and you watch as he raises the whiteclaw to his lips, the white can covering the smirk on his face as he takes a sip.

when you first met rafe, he was nice enough–very cordial. the boy was only older than you by a a year, but he acted as if the difference was so significant that he couldn’t be seen around you. he wasn’t necessarily shy, but every boy that age was concerned with catching cooties. it was impossible to keep his distance, though, especially since your dads worked together and you were constantly over their house. you and rafe maintained a somewhat friendly relationship with each other for years–never getting as close as you and sarah, but it was amiable. 

that all changed when you got to the eighth grade.

the older boy had started his first year of high school, while you and sarah were still in middle school together. 

the difference in maturity was beginning to have an affect on your relationship with both of them. you were turning fourteen and sarah was turning twelve; it felt like you were in totally different worlds. she was starting to become more of a little sister to you than a friend, but you loved her no less than before.

rafe was only fifteen, but he was in high school now. he hung out with guys older than him, and that meant doing whatever to impress them. he had completely brushed you off as a ‘little girl,’ and acted like you were a burden to have around if you were at tannyhill while his friends were there. 

it hurt you at first. you knew the two of you weren’t close, but to be completely disregarded for people he barely knew didn’t make you feel great about yourself. 

you were naive to believe it’d be any other way.

when it was your turn to enter high school, you felt alone. sarah was still in middle school, and rafe treated you like dirt on the bottom of his shoe. it was like you had to start all over now that you didn’t have either of them to cling onto. it wasn’t hard for you to make friends, but you still felt alone without your best friend–and betrayed by her brother.

“rafe, stop! you’re being an ass.” sarah shoves her brother, eyebrows furrowed as she scolds her older silbing.

“what? it’s a joke, chill out.” rafe barely stumbles from the shove. his eyes remain on you, not even sparing his sister more than a second of a glance. “she can take a joke. right, y/n?”

“of course i can take a joke, rafe!” you tilted your head in the same manner as he did just a few moments ago. “remember that time you asked me out senior year? that was really funny.” 

a smile grazed your lips softly as you watched him freeze in place for the briefest second before regaining composure. both his friends and sarah snorted at the quip, catching onto the implication. nobody noticed the look shared between you and the oldest cameron, nor the rise in tension.

it was the summer before your junior year and rafe’s senior–two weeks before midsummers, to be exact. rafe hadn’t let up on what was the borderline bullying he’d been subjecting you to since you started high school; in fact, it had only increased that summer. you were at the cameron’s house almost everyday with sarah, and her brother didn’t spare you a moment of peace when you happened to come across each other on the property–or off of it.

rafe spotted you alone by the dock, tossing rocks into the water as you stared into the dimming light of the july sky. you knew it was him approaching because his feet were heavy against the twigs lining the ground, not light and nimble like sarah’s. 

“y/n,” he called out from behind you, towering presence warm at your back. he sounded nervous, which struck you as odd. when he spoke to you, his voice carried the weight of condescension or irritation–never the champagne bubbles of anxiety. it was obvious he was trying to disguise it, but you knew him too well for it to work. “can we talk?” 

you responded with a disinterested hum, throwing the last rock into the water before turning to face him. you expected him to say something stupid, the sole purpose of him catching you there alone to bother you until you went back to your own house.

what you were not expecting, however, was for him to confess his feelings–feelings for you. you could hear your ears ringing when he asked if you would go with him to midsummers, brain sparking up with disbelief and agitation at the sound of the words leaving his mouth.

there were no second thoughts when he was met with firm rejection. 

you weren’t sure why it caught him by surprise considering he’d been treating you like shit for three years, but he acted as if you shot him at point blank. though you never told anyone, you had a crush on him at one point as well. it began to feel more like hopeless pining after he began to treat you like an incessant fruit fly, which is why you got over it–for the most part, at least.

that’s when the mistreatment from him became a feud on both ends. you felt justified in your feelings towards him, and rafe having the audacity to be mad at you for turning him down only fueled the fire. 

the oldest cameron sibling had his own issues, ones that made him quick to anger towards everything and everyone for no reason, especially you.

“you think you’re funny, huh?” the blonde looks displeased by his friends’ reactions, jaw clenching in annoyance. he could dish it, but he couldn’t take it.

“as if you know what that is.” you raised your brows at him, a smile still covering your face. you reached out a hand towards him, palm landing gently on his broad chest in a false gesture of comfort. “its okay, rafey, not everyone is made for being funny. stick to being useless, okay? you’re amazing at that!”

shoving past the blonde, you walked in the direction of the house after telling sarah you were going to sit inside for a moment to hide from the heat. the coastal carolina humidity was taking a toll on you, and rafe’s presence was only adding to the irritation. 

you took your time walking around the house, the massive interior surrounding you on all sides. the sound of your shoes softly tapping against the ground was the only sound filling the air, the commotion of the party outside left behind the further you ventured. your feet carried you up the grand staircase gracefully, hips swaying with each step until you reached the top.

the mansion was not unfamiliar. you and sarah had run these halls together countless times over the years, no room left unexplored by the two of you–including rafe’s. 

out of curiosity, your eyes drifted in the direction of the boy’s bedroom. the door had been left wide open for anyone to walk in, and there was an invisible force pushing you to enter. it’s been years since you’ve explored it, the last time resulting in being caught by its inhabitant. memories of you and sarah snooping around his drawers flashed through your mind, rafe coming in and cursing the two of you with colorful words you’d never heard in-person before.

this time, rafe wasn’t here to stop you. he was far too occupied outside with his friends to interrupt your impulsive decision to explore his room once more.

you shuffled towards the open door of his room, head peeking into the empty space before stepping inside. the room hadn’t changed much from the last time you saw it; it was still reminiscent of a teenage boy, just much cleaner. your feet softly padded across the floor to the window on the opposite side, staring out of the window at the crowd below. 

the music was just barely audible through the thick glass, the little ants of people wandering around with cups in hand as they interacted with each other. eyes scanning the crowd, your brows furrowed together in confusion. kelce, sarah, and topper were right where you left them, but rafe was nowhere to be found the longer you searched over the attendees.

“maybe he left…” you said to yourself, shoulders raising in a weak shrugging motion.

“who?”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of the voice appearing in the background so suddenly, a scream bubbling in your throat before you turned around to meet it’s owner. the sight of rafe cameron standing in the doorway barely did anything to calm your nerves, his stern face and crossed arms only making you anxious.

“y’know–i could’ve sworn i told you to stay out of my room?” his blue eyes bored into yours, gaze unrelenting and intense as they awaited an answer for your presence. 

“what are you doing in here?” you were tempted to pinch yourself as the question slipped from between your lips. 

“this is my room,” he said pointedly. “what are you doing in here?”

you shrugged again, the nervousness that filled you moments ago dissipating the longer you faced him. the worst thing he could do is tell you to get out, there was no reason to feel anxious about his appearance. you pushed yourself off the window frame you were resting against to walk towards the door, ready to make your exit now that you’ve been caught.

“not going through your shit, if that’s what you’re worried about. i was bored–now i’m leaving.” you were at the halfway point of his room, eyes rolling nonchalantly as you brushed him off. “what are you doing?”

rafe entered the room fully, a look of mischief shining brightly from behind his eyes as your own flickered to the door that shut behind him with a soft ‘thud’. you could feel your brows pinch together ever so slightly at the sight before you met his face again.

you didn’t flinch when he began to approach you with slow, rhythmic steps. his legs were long and he could have easily made it to you in just a few but he deliberately took his time walking in your direction, each soft noise of his shoe hitting the ground spaced a second apart. 

“what for? not like you have anywhere to be,” his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his shorts and his head tilted to the side in a feigned curiosity that was clearly heard through his voice. “actually–i think we need to talk…”

the blonde stopped barely a foot in front of you. he wasn’t quite invading your personal space, just pushing against the boundary lines of it. your eye twitches involuntarily, but you say nothing.

pushing the boundaries was something rafe had been doing for a while. mentally and physically. it was part of what further pulled the string of tension between you two.

maybe it’s because he’s a guy, but there wasn’t a day you could go seeing rafe without him making comments on your body or touching you without permission. your chest, your backside, your lips, your eyes–there was nothing spared from his overtly sexual thoughts. you weren’t sure if he was doing it solely to piss you off or make you uncomfortable, but being either one did nothing to discourage him. 

in fact, it only served as motivation for him to continue.

it had been more times than you could count that rafe had groped you and claimed that his hand slipped–that you were overreacting. sometimes he wouldn’t even deny it; he’d blame you for wearing a too-short skirt or a top so small that ‘you had to have been wanting the attention or you wouldn’t have left the house like that.’ he had a habit of standing uncomfortably close to you, so close that you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back or the hair on his arms tickling your own.

you just brushed it off as him being obnoxious, slapping away wandering hands and giving quick-witted responses to the suggestive remarks. guys his age were assholes and because of how long you’d known him, you never let it bother you too much. or at least, you refused to let him know that it bothered you.

“i don’t think so, rafe.“ you eyed him suspiciously. “what could we possibly have to talk about?” your arms raised to fold across your chest, fingertips cold from the air-conditioning as they rested against your bare skin. 

if it weren’t so hot and sticky outside you would have worn pants, but the frilly, pink skirt adorning your bottom half was far too tempting to pass up in this weather. you could feel the goosebumps rising over your entire body from the coolness of the house.

rafe just stared for a moment. you could see the synapses firing behind the blue of his irises, and the sight unsettled you. the feeling of his eyes raking over your frame did nothing to shake the discomfort either.

“your attention-seeking behavior. your disrespectful attitude.” his gaze flittered back up to meet yours and you could make out the ghost of a smirk wash over his features. “it's becoming a problem, don’t ya’ think?”

“what?” that was not on the list of things you were expecting him to say. you couldn’t help the amused laugh that escaped your lips in a breath. “what the fuck are you talking about right now?” 

“what am i talking about?” his dark blonde brows come together in an expression of concern–one you were sure he was faking.

rafe’s tanned arm reached out towards you, long fingers grabbing a braid from your head and twirling the end around the digits. not abnormal behavior, but you still squinted at him anyway.

“you must be the stupid one if you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

a scoff left your mouth and your hand lifted to smack his away from your hair. your eyes nearly strained out of their sockets from the amount of restraint it took not to roll them, lids blinking away the urge that fought against them.

“bye, rafe.” your path was blocked when you tried to move around him, the tall man following your step before you could even finish making it. “move!”

he caught the hand raised to push him out of the way with ease, the strength in his grip restrained but still felt as it surrounded your wrist. every attempt to take it back into your possession failed, your opponent unrelenting.

startled, a gasp left your mouth when you were pulled forward roughly, rafe’s body pressed tightly against yours as he brought his free hand to rest on your lower back. the ghost on his face was now living, a grin widespread over his lips that showed off the whites of his teeth as he stared down at you. 

“stop touching me, you’re being a creep.” you didn’t raise your voice at him, but you were firm in your demand.

“oh, please,” he rolled his eyes at you, as if you were the one acting out of line. “i think you want me to touch you.”

the hand that rested on your back fell even lower, the entirety of his hand capturing your ass in its grasp. you inhale sharply, the roughness of his fingers squeezing down causing you to jerk forward in an attempt to escape. you were met with rafe’s warm chest trapping you between him and the hand gripping your backside through the fabric of the skirt keeping it covered.

“rafe!” you said loudly. “what the fuck is your problem?”

it’s not like he hadn’t touched you there before; he’d done it plenty. but those were only light brushes in passing or pinching you when you weren’t paying attention. things that he could pretend never happened, things that you could brush off as him being annoying.

this was not that.

“you walk around town in these itty, bitty skirts,” rafe’s smile was gone now, the mischief behind his eyes remained but it was mixed with something else–something you didn’t feel too keen about. “like you own the place–walking around my house like it’s yours. always acting like you’re better than everyone. like–like you’re above all of us. do you think you’re better than everyone, y/n?”

you shook your head at him, doing the best job you could muster at remaining calm despite the alarm bells ringing in your head. the free hand you were using to push his hand away from your ass was useless; he wasn’t budging. however, even with the little voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, you couldn’t help but to give a smart-assed reply.

“i don’t think i’m above everyone, rafe,” the corner of your lips twitched as you fought back the smile that wanted to appear. “just you.”

he chuckled at that, but not because he found it funny. it was obvious by the way his face darkened, which is what queued you into thinking that you should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

relief filled you when he released the clothed flesh of your behind from his vices, but only momentarily. your feet stumbled over each other clumsily as rafe walked forward with purpose, forcing you backwards until your the crease of your knees hit the bed. you remained standing, but if he were to push you again you’d certainly lose your balance.

the oldest cameron sibling was much…larger than you remembered. you saw him practically every day, but you couldn’t recall his biceps ever being this big as your hands held onto them to stabilize yourself. you’ve never felt intimidated when standing near him, but as you craned your neck upward, all you could feel was the fear bubbling in your stomach. faced with his towering height, he could easily overpower you if that’s what he wanted to do–and you had a feeling he did.

a chill ran down your spine.

“you come over here every day wearing practically nothing, swinging that pretty ass in my face like a fucking tease, and then treat me like you don’t know who you’re talking to.” he shakes his head in faux-disappointment, the sound of his tongue tutting against his teeth filling your ears. “i told you to stop doing it, but you refuse. if you weren’t begging for attention, you wouldn’t act like that.”

“are you being serious right now?” you were in complete disbelief. the fear in your stomach remained, but a pang of vexation was thrown into the mix. “the last thing i want is your attention, rafe. i already turned you down once–stop being weird about it. just ‘cause you can’t keep your dick in your pants doesn’t make me the problem.”

the tall blond’s eye twitched, lips raising like hackles as he all but snarled at you. 

both of his hands dropped suddenly, giving you zero time to react as he gripped the bottom of your skirt in his hands and yanked it upwards. a sound of surprise rolled out of your mouth and rafe took advantage of your shock to spin you around and push you face down onto the bed. your body barely bounced once before rafe was seated on the mattress next to you, strong arms reaching over to grab your legs and throw them over his lap haphazardly as he pinned your arms behind your back.

you felt him lean his upper body against you and apply force, preventing you from lifting yourself up off the bed and leaving you completely at his mercy. 

“rafe!” you scolded as he hiked up your skirt even higher and exposed you further. his position under you left you unable to lie flat, back arched uncomfortably with your pelvis resting on his muscled thighs. panic was beginning to fill you. “rafe, stop! what are you doing?”

he doesn’t respond, a bump silence filling the tense air. you could feel the heat of his scrutinizing gaze, unable to control your squirming as the warmth of his hand palmed at your barely covered skin. he massaged at the soft flesh, squeezing it between his fingers like he was being entertained by putty.

“you look so pretty in pink.”

a yelp escaped your lips when he brought his hand down against your ass with a resounding smack. he repeated the action on the other side with the same amount of force before half-assing an attempt at massaging away the sting. you hissed from the pain, his rough groping doing nothing to ease the feeling.

he hums to himself, hand pulling away to deliver another blow. you cursed at him, leg kicking up out of anger but able to do any real damage.

“y’know,” rafe says and you couldn’t help but huff in anger. “you brought this on yourself. we wouldn’t have to do this if you were just a nice girl.” you could hear the disappointment dripping from his voice and it enraged you.

“maybe i’m not nice to you because you’re a fucking dick.” he smacked you again. “fuck! stop, rafe!”

“and you’re a loud-mouthed bitch who needs to learn that actions have consequences.” 

if you thought he wasn’t holding back before, you were proven wrong. 

he spared you no second to recover from the barrage of smacks that he bestowed upon you. each time his hand raised, it reconnected just as mercilessly as it did before. all you could hear was the sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the bedroom, mind completely encompassed by the fiery heat produced by his palm against your ass. 

you wanted to scream out, cry for help from anyone that happened to be wandering the halls of the old manor. you didn’t though. not because you couldn’t, but because you were scared. scared that if someone did come to help, they would see you bent over rafe’s lap like a misbehaving child. scared that the someone who came to your rescue would be sarah–or ward.

the humiliation would kill you.

instead, you settled on continuing with your demands to stop. you swore at him, threatened him, kicked at him as hard as you could. you tried everything to get him to let up, but he refused. the sound of your voice was nearly drowned out by the deafening sound of your backside being brutalized.

you were sure if someone were to walk past, it could be heard on the other side.

“i’m going to fucking kill you, rafe!” you gritted out through teeth clenched so tight that you could pop a blood vessel. “you’re disgusting!”

the blue-eyed man tutted from above you, abruptly pausing his assault. unexpectedly he pushed your legs off his lap and rose to his feet, leaving you in a heap on the bed. you almost sung out a praise to whatever angel had been keeping an eye on you, finally taking pity on your bruised behind. it felt like you were on fire; face hot, skin sticky with the sweat from putting up a fight, and the site of rafe’s abuse burning from the phantom of his hand.

your eyes snapped in rafe’s direction, pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of metal. he’d taken off his expensive leather belt when he stood up, the accessory folded in half between his hands as his hardened, amused eyes stared down at you. your eyes flitted between his face and the belt in his hand nervously, throat bobbing as you swallowed dryly.

he predicted your movement before you could even make it, moving so fast that you thought he was transported to you. rafe caught your legs as you attempted to crawl away and pulled you back over the edge. your feet landed on the floor but your top half remained pinned to the mattress, a strong hand keeping you in place as you struggled against it.

“change of plans,” he whispered against your ear. you were sure he felt you shiver against his hold from the breath on your skin. “i tried being gentle–well, as gentle as i can be with you. clearly, that’s not teaching you anything. “

“haven’t you heard? corporal punishment is outdated and ineffective.” it was in your nature to argue with him, even when he had you pinned beneath him like a wolf would a rabbit. “i’m not learning anything except for how much of a pervert you really are–not that i didn't already know.”

rafe chuckled at this, very darkly. he pulled away from your ear and positioned himself behind you, the heat of his presence radiating in a way that was almost suffocating. the silence was so loud that you could barely hear the sound of the party outside, blood rushing past your ears thunderously.

you braced yourself, unsure of what his next move would be. however, he made no moves. the blond just stood there behind you ominously, keeping your hands pinned to your back as he watched you noiselessly. the temptation to look behind you was overwhelming, and it was then when he decided to act.

the belt made fierce contact with your sensitive skin the moment your head twitched, the stillness between you no longer. 

it took all of your strength to contain the scream that itched to leave your throat, a pained groan coming out from your gritted teeth. this was worse than his bare hand by miles, the fury of the leather leaving you thrashing with a single lick.

“i think,” he landed another strike to your ass after he spoke. “corporal punishment is very effective. it just takes a little…more to break through girls like you. it’s okay, though, you’ll learn.”

the belt comes down again and you couldn’t hold back the scream this time. 

he gave no time for you to recover, the viciousness of each swat intensifying each time it landed. it was loud, much louder than his hands and in your foggy mind you worried endlessly about what would happen if someone else were to hear.

you don’t move when he lets go of your wrists, body paralyzed from pain and fear. rafe takes hold of your barely there underwear and yanks them down, the fabric pooling around your ankles leaving you fully exposed and hot with embarrassment. he takes no time to look between your legs and quickly returns to delivering your punishment.

the comforter beneath you fell victim to the deathly grip of your now free hands, talon-like fingers digging into the fabric as you used it to brace yourself. tears ran down your face uncontrollably and every muscle in your body was tense from the torment.

“rafe, please!” you cried out, hardly able to form a complete sentence. “ow! stop, stop! i’m sorry!”

you weren’t even sure what you were apologizing for, but you couldn’t take the torture for much longer. you’d fix your mouth to say whatever it takes to get him off of you.

“how many times have i told you to stop dressing like a slut? huh?” you responded with a pained screech. he paired the question with another lashing, your cries for mercy doing nothing to garner any of his sympathy. “and yet, you still do what you please. so i’m going to do what ever the fuck pleases me.”

it felt like you’d been here for an eternity, but it’d probably been maybe twenty minutes. twenty minutes since you walked into his room like a dumbass instead of going to sarah’s like you planned on doing in the first place. twenty minutes wasn’t a long time, and nobody would come looking for you any time soon.

a sob racked through your body at that. your hands reached back to grab at his weapon of choice in a desperate effort to stop the battery, and in response rafe put them right back where they were against your spine.

“you want everyone to see your ass so badly,” the leather slashed through the air and landed on you with a crack. “so i’m gonna give you something to show ‘em.” 

you had been reduced to a pile of tears and tender flesh. rafe’s hands holding you down against the bed were hardly necessary; the both of you knew that you didn’t have the energy to fight back anymore. all you could do was scream, cry, and beg for him to end the attack against your poor ass. the welts on your flesh were beginning to form, you could feel it.

“stop crying.” he says from above you. you could practically hear the sound of his eyes rolling, but he paused the lashings anyways. “begging me to stop but–” he cuts himself off, his silence falling loudly on your ears.

the sound of the belt falling to the floor as he threw it into a random corner didn’t even register to you, the metal buckle thumping against the wall. all you could focus on was the hand between your quivering legs, and the throbbing sensation that you hadn’t noticed before. rafe’s fingers gliding against the wetness of your core made you flinch from being unprepared for his touch.

“you're leaking all over yourself…” shame washed over you in a tsunami-like wave, the feeling amplified by the wet sounds coming from where rafe’s hand meets the junction of your thighs. “i don’t think you want me to stop.”

“no!” you shouted. rafe let out a breathy chuckle as he watched you shake your head desperately against the mattress. “no more! please, i don’t want it...”

he hummed in response, fingers still toying with your dripping heat. they were just barely brushing over your clit, the bud swollen with need and twitching with every ghost-like touch. if you could scream, you would, but all you had the energy to do was whimper pathetically as he held you in place.

“hm, alright.” rafe’s agreeance made you release a shaky breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. “i know what you do want, though.”

you felt his thick fingers grazing your entrance; just the pads of them. he was being a tease, letting you soak in the humiliation of being so adamant on him leaving you alone but having your body betray you. 

he leaned down once again, the softness of his lips tickling the shell of your ear. you swallowed dryly as you struggled to focus on anything other than his torturous fingers sitting idly between your puffy lips. 

“you want me to fuck this little hole open with my fingers,” he hummed again, the vibration of it sending a shockwave through your body. “wanna drool all over my hand with that messy cunt.”

you shook your head, squirming against his hold once again in an attempt to escape his curious fingers. 

“no?” he asked and you shook your head again. “i don’t believe that.”

he only removed his hand from your long enough to flip you onto your back, barely exerting any strength to do so. instead of holding you down by your wrists, you were planted against the mattress by your neck with a firm hand. your own fingers moved to wrap around his arm while his returned to the heat building between your legs. 

you gasped at the feeling of a long, thick digit pushing against the tight resistance as it coaxed you open enough to slip inside. with him between your legs you couldn’t close them–all you could do was lie there pathetically as he did what he wanted. 

“aw, you feel that?” he cooed at you, eyes flickering up at your face briefly before dropping back to his hand. “it slipped right in…i think you can take two, don’t you?”

a whine slipped out at the feeling of a second finger slipping past the barrier of your hole to join the first one. his fingers were way bigger than yours, fitting inside of you more snugly than you were used to. he pulled them out at a snail’s pace, purposefully dragging against your spasming walls before pushing them right back in.

“yeah, you take it real good.” he grinned smugly, clearly enjoying the juxtaposition of the pained look on your face and the way you desperately latched onto his two fingers. “don’t want it, but your pussy’s sucking me in…why’s that?”

you couldn’t answer–not when you were panting like a bitch in heat, trying and failing at catching your breath as rafe stole it away from you. your arousal leaked out over his fingers and there was nothing you could do to stop it. his fingers felt too good, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

he continued with the bare minimum for what felt like forever, probably waiting on you to give in and beg him to fuck you. unfortunately for him, you would never do that. your will was much too strong to do something as desperate as that, and you were basking in enough humiliation as is; you’d never give up the single sliver of pride you had left.

it was rafe who broke first. he said nothing as the speed of his fingers increased, eyes focused on every scrunch of your nose and the whines that forced their way past your bitten lips. the heel of his hand kept making contact with your clit and it made you want to start crying again.

“such a pretty girl,” his eyes raked over your clothed body in satisfaction. something about you having to walk around in the same clothes that he turned you out in got him off, while it made you think about throwing them into a bonfire or burying them in the deepest part of your closet. “getting so wet and needy from me welting up her ass. i think you’re the pervert here, not me.”

“uh-uhn.” you protested the accusation immediately, reaching down the push rafe’s hand away weakly. he looked amused. 

“you’re not?” the blonde moved back to stare at your cunt grooling all over his hand, fingers fucking the mess back inside over and over. “why are you so wet then?”

you didn’t have an answer to that. his fingers pulled out of you completely, using the wetness as more lubrication to spread over your swollen clit. the bucket of sparks in your stomach had long turned into a bubbling cauldron, and the attention to the needy button did nothing but make it burn hotter.

his fingers dipped back inside with much ease this time and you nearly died from the embarrassment. your brain was foggy yet defiant, but your body worked against you by welcoming everything rafe had to offer. 

“no normal girl would get wet from shit like that. screaming and crying, beggin’ me to stop–but look,” rafe shook his head at you, eyes hot as he watched your frame twitch beneath his hands. “you’re squeezing down on my fingers like you want ‘em in there forever.“

he was right. you were screaming, you were crying, you were begging him to stop. now you’re letting him spread you open and getting wet when you should be screaming for him to get off of you. 

what was wrong with you?

you had no time to think about that, not when he added a third finger without warning. a cry filled the air–yours–from the stretch. you were so full. he sped up again, too, treating you with little compassion as he watched ruined your sopping pussy with the thick appendages.

“so pathetic to be this wet for me,” he shook his head at you, lips pulled together in a pout. “you know it too. you should be ashamed.”

you were.

“you’re not even gonna stop me, look at your legs shaking.” he pointed out the way you couldn’t keep still.

he was right; you weren’t gonna stop him. you couldn’t.

the veins in his arms strained with each pump of his fingers, biceps bulging against the tight sleeves of his shirt. you could feel your juices dripping down your ass, your other hole fluttering in sync with the one being stuffed with three fingers. every part of your body was tingling and desperate to be touched, and you were rapidly losing control of yourself the closer rafe brought you to the edge.

he noticed it, too. the way you couldn’t stop clamping down around him, how you unconsciously ground into his palm, the dazed look in your eyes and the desperation in your voice as you lost the ability to hold back.

“look at you,” he said. his eyes were filled with lust, dark and glossed over as he observed your behavior. “ready to cum after putting up all that fight. dressed up in this tiny, little skirt; you were practically asking for this. so disgusting.”

your breath was uneven and you felt like you were going to pass out, mind dizzy and drunk with the forced pleasure. he showed no signs of letting up, digging you out with a fervor that you’d never experienced. the sound of your whining became higher pitched, tears pouring from your eyes as you tip-toed the cliff ahead of you. 

“you’re about to cum, huh?” you nodded your head at him, eyes wide and wet with the lubrication. “yeah? you wanna cum?”

you screamed, but not for the reason you wanted to. 

“no.” rafe pulled his fingers away right before you fell off the edge, leaving your hips bucking against the air as you were denied the release he was forcing upon you in the first place. “you’re not gonna cum unless i tell you to.”

you would have rolled your eyes and protested, but the feeling of his hand coming down against your bare pussy made you yelp. your clit jumped and your nipples were begging to be released from the constraints of your shirt, the pain giving you a kind of pleasure that you weren’t equipped to handle. he did it again, and again. he did it until you were fighting to push him away and close your legs.

“aw, does that hurt?” he pouted at you when you whimpered out some semblance of a ‘yes,’ which was rewarded with another slap. “good.”

it was agonizing; how deliciously painful it was. it was so much–too much. you were becoming dumb, all brain function replaced with the pulsing of your abused cunt. he continued to slap your clit, entranced by the way it twitched and your hole clenched around nothing.

“you want me to stop?” you couldn’t answer; you were too stunned to form a coherent sentence and it made you feel like an idiot. rafe took pleasure in that. “stupid girl, you can’t even say anything. so fucked out and easy for me.” 

you were tempted to push him away and get yourself off, but even through your foggy brain you knew he’d never let you get the chance.

“need to taste this pussy…” he mumbled to himself, not caring if you heard or not.

he dropped to his knees with eyes still focused on you as he blew against your exposed clit, both thumbs spreading your lips open. he wasn’t worried about you trying to escape anymore; not really. it was clear you were too dazed to do much of anything but pant like a dog and take his abuse. 

he finally gave you his tongue after waiting for you to whine for it, the wet muscle flattening against the whole of your sensitive core. the texture of the appendage on your clit had you writhing, legs trapped in his hold and prevented from clamping down around his head.

you trembled as he lapped up your wetness, grinding against his face as he buried himself deep into your wetness. he was like a man starved, licking up your arousal as it spilled out of you in an endless fountain. the plush pillows of his lips encapsulated your clit, sucking on it roughly as he brought his fingers back down to fuck you open. 

your head fell back from the intensity, cries tumbling out of your mouth clumsily as he laved against your rosy bud.

everything was so wet.

“don’t you dare fucking cum.” rafe growled, pulling away from your pussy. his fingers kept going, but he kept his eyes on you now. it was impossible to ignore the way you pulsed around him. “i’m not gonna stop, so you better hold it.”

a broken wail left you and you wanted to curl into a ball. this was just as much of a punishment as being beaten with the belt in the corner, you were now discovering.

“please…” the rope in your stomach was being sawed in half by the second and you weren’t going to last much longer. “i can’t…”

he rose to his full height, staring down at your messy for; thighs covered in sticky precum with your skirt crumpled up at your waist. your skin was hot to the touch and covered in a thin layer of sweat, face wet with tears stains and eyes filled with lust fueled desperation. his fingers worked purposefully in the deepest parts of your pussy that you’d never been able to explore yourself. 

“taking me so fuckin’ deep, princess.” he teased you with his words, his voice only adding difficulty to holding back from cumming all over his merciless fingers.

“rafe…” you couldn’t tell him off; not when you were getting so close, so fast.

“‘rafe…’” he mocked the pleading tone in your voice. ocean blue eyes flickered up towards your own, dark with arousal as he watched you squirm. “you sound so pathetic.”

you could feel your thighs tensing as you tried your best to hold back. you didn’t know what he would do if you came without permission, but it was getting hard to care. his fingers were hitting repeatedly against a spot that had you seeing white and holding your breath. 

rafe let you stay like that for a while, desperately hanging on by a thread as he watched. 

“okay,“ he said, head tilted to the side. “you can cum–but i’m not gonna give it to you.”

“rafe!” you yelped. he pulled his fingers out and delivered a final smack to your already abused clit, smirking at your reaction. 

reaching up towards your face, rafe squished your cheeks together until your mouth was forced open. you audibly protested when he brought his wet fingers to your lips, the smell of your arousal invading all of your senses. your noises of defiance were ignored as he shoved the digits into your mouth. he coated your tongue with the wetness covering his fingers, fucking your mouth in the same way he used your other hole.

you couldn’t stop the saliva that fell from your mouth; it leaked down the sides of your face uncomfortably and you wanted to wipe it away. 

“you can go home later, and rub that dirty little cunt to the memory of this.” you stared up at him wide-eyed, mouth stuffed and clit pulsating at the wanton actions being performed on you. “every time you pick out a skirt to wear, you’re gonna sit on that welted up ass and you’re gonna think about how wet you got from my belt tearing you up.”

he watched you shift uncomfortably on your bare, bruised behind, but showed you no pity. 

the sting of it brought you back to reality, the weight of what just occurred finally coming to your clearer mind. rafe’s hand gripped your jaw and tilted it upwards to bring your attention back to him. the fear that you felt earlier bubbled back up. 

your mouth was relieved from the violating digits grazing the back of your throat. wet fingers slapped against your cheek twice, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make you wince from the sting.

“still think you’re above me?” rafe asked, face lowering to just mere inches away from yours. you shook your head the best you could, jaw still under the steel grip of his hand. “you–you should be thanking me, really…i’m older than you, remember? your job is to respect your elders, and my job is to correct you.”

you say nothing; not that you could anyway. he lowered his hand, pulling it away from your jaw and resting it on the circumference of your exposed neck. the tall man hummed at you, head tilting to the side like a puppy as he observed your disheveled form beneath him.

“i did it so that nobody else has to, y/n. jus’ looking out for you like i’m supposed to–even though you don’t deserve it.“ you blinked at him, prompting the fingers lying limply at your neck to squeeze as a warning. “say ‘thank you, rafe.’ you can do that right? ‘thank you for looking out for stupid little girls like me.’” 

you gulped away the part of you that wanted to spit out a curse at rafe, resistance vibrating deep in your bones. this had to be more humiliating than being spread out over his fingers, you thought.

“thank you, rafe.” the voice that came out sounded pained, and rafe could tell. he tutted at you, clearly dissatisfied.

“i don’t think you mean that…do you want the belt on your pussy this time?” his eyebrow quirked up at you, amused clear in his eyes as he watched your own widen in panic.

“no! no, i really mean it!”

his free hand landed between your legs again as it delivered the stinging punishment of his palm once more. 

“then fucking act like it.” rafe snarled at you, the heat of your center against his taunting hand. “‘thank you for looking out for me, rafe. you’re so good to me.’ and you better fucking mean it.” 

“thank you for looking out for me, rafe. you’re s’good to me!” you cried out weakly. rafe continued to slap at your achy clit with his flattened fingers, wordlessly telling you he wasn’t satisfied with your response. “i’m stupid ‘nd i don’t deserve–ah! i don’t deserve it. i’ll be nice, i promise!”

happy enough with your gratitude, he relented. he pulled his hand away from your quivering lower lips and stepped back, allowing your legs to fall shut and guard your crying, battered cunt from the cool air blowing against it from the ac.

“you’re welcome.”

you watch from your spot on the bed as rafe picks up your discarded underwear from the floor. he shoves the item in his pocket, leaving you bare with nothing to protect yourself. standing from your position on the mattress, your legs wobbled like a young doe before straightening themselves to their full length. 

you’d never felt so violated, so defeated. what made it even worse was the way your body still tingled with need. the feeling was deep inside you, walls clamping down on the phantom of rafe’s manly fingers. he was right, and it brought a cloud of shame that rained down on you. the first thing you’d do when you got home is stuff yourself with your own and pretend they were his. every time you sat down and felt the sting of his punishment, you knew you’d leak just like you were right now.

how could you call him a creep, a pervert? how could you call him disgusting when you were the one making a mess all over him after being held down and beaten?

feelings of guilt weighed heavy on your chest. you could pretend that none of this ever happened, but rafe would never let you forget; there’s no way he’d ever let it go.

shaking away the thoughts plaguing your mind, you pulled yourself together the best you could. a hiss sounded out through the room as you pulled the skirt down from around your waist.

the last thing you wanted to know was how bad your ass and thighs looked, the raised skin evidence enough as it painfully rubbed against the fabric of your skirt. rafe opened the door of his bedroom in a swift motion to reveal an empty hallway, eyes staring pointedly at you. the sound of your swift feet echoed off the floor, legs carrying you the fastest that they possibly could without tripping over each other.

before you made it past the threshold, rafe snatched your arm up into his grip. he leaned down to meet you at eye level, closely examining the way your breathing hitched.

“and stay the fuck out of my room."

[the-ace-with-spades]

Ice and Mav are one of those annoyingly cute old married couples that wear matching outfits every chance they have. It only started later in life because they kept on the down low for most of the time they've been together, but then it spiraled out of control.

Mav bought Ice a matching leather jacket for the motorcycle rides. Then he was shopping and saw a shirt in a style he liked but in that one specific powder blue color that looked really good on Ice - so he bought two, in different sizes. Then sometime later he found checkered shirts in blue and red, but in the negative of each other - red with a blue pattern (for Mav) and blue with a red pattern (for Ice). Obviously, it continued - even if they wore something vastly different, like a simple top for Mav and a tailored shirt for Ice, they'd be wearing the same color - and suddenly they had a whole wardrobe that was coordinated, two sizes of various jean and leather jackets, same basic tops, matching shirts, ties, socks. Whoever woke up first on the days they were spending together, had the right to choose what they were wearing.

When Ice starts wearing bandanas and scarves to cover the cancer scars, Mav almost always wears a top in the same color.

(also gonna sprinkle here that Ice is for sure color-blind)

Bonus:

The first time Hangman sees them like that and realizes it's on purpose, he feels absolutely stupid because he wants, craves that too but his man likes to wear one type of jeans (Levis 501s, the vintage cut) with white tops and some kind of patterned shirt, buttons wide open. And he's not wearing that.

Eventually, though, opportunity arises because they need suits for something and Bradley says he's not choosing so Jake makes the decision and buys them suits in the same colors but inverted - Jake is wearing a mint green shirt with a cream jacket and darker shades of green for the tie and trousers, and Bradley is wearing a cream shirt and trousers with a green jacket and tie.

Bradley doesn't comment on it. It's like he hasn't even noticed.

So then Jake starts wearing tops in the same shades as Bradley's patterned shirts, just without the patterns (with some exceptions, he is not wearing burnt orange). Bradley still doesn't comment on it so Jake feels accomplished - he pulled it off despite Bradley's lack of fashion sense and without any teasing involved. Or so he thought.

Bradley buys a new hawaiian shirt - just a green one with leaves and pink flowers on it -- and brings a second one with him, in the same shade of green but completely plain.

For Jake.

He doesn't say anything. It just one day shows on Jake's side of the wardrobe and Jake connects the dots when he sees Bradley making breakfast in the new hawaiian shirt that matches the shade exactly.

[balkanradfem]

I know I just made a serious post and I'm about to post something silly but stay with me here. I've had an experience that was deeply unsettling and horrifying to me and my mental health, and now you have to hear about it.

So I was reading fanfiction, and you can judge me, it's fine, I don't feel guilty for my little thought crimes, but it was a m/m fanfiction of two fictional blorbos I will not name in this instance. And this fanfiction was absolutely beautifully written, the prose had me in the first sentence; it was sophisticated, detailed, words so unusual and interesting I had to consult a dictionary. It started off wonderfully too, my characters were bantering, they were having issues, then had to work together and be civil to each other, it's what puts a smile on my face.

However, one of these characters had been changed in the fanfiction, in a way that felt unsettling to me. First the author changed his hair to long – and it happens sometimes, I'm okay with it, why not, make him look like an elf. Then his outfits were color-coordinated, and described in detail (it was like reading my immortal). Then he started wearing his hair in a long braid, which is normal, but, then he changed it to two braids, which I felt, was taking it too far, like this would happen only if he lost a bet and was being made fun of. Then he lost all of his desire for banter and started acting very dainty and vulnerable. I was having a bad feeling about it, but I still hoped it would get better. Maybe they would still fight.

The fanfiction had some very detailed and unusual descriptions of food, and it was food I've never heard about, red onion marmelade? I had to stop reading to consider if that was real. The food was a big issue and every meal had several courses and multiple fancy deserts and we were getting information about ingredients and freshness level. Then the characters started a discussion about the food, and the character I'm describing understood in detail how food is made, from what ingredients, in what manner, and I've felt suspicious about that, how would he know about cooking. Unreasonable.

I've still been hanging onto hope until finally, I got to the part where this character was in the hospital, and here I found out that the author erased all of the scars on his body. Not only that, but the character was obsessed with having skin free of blemishes and flaws and from what I was seeing, probably had a skin care routine. This was deeply unsettling because the scars have been vital to the plot, a proof of what had happened to him, and to just erase all this to make him blemish free? There was no hope. I knew it then for sure. I understood what was happening. They had turned him into a tradwife.

The outfits, the braids, the blemish-free skin, the extensive cooking knowledge, the lack of banter, the dainty behaviour... they did that to a fanfiction character. A male character. Nobody is freaking safe. The trend is so strong it bled into my emotional-support fanfiction. I am stripped of one thing that usually comforts me, two fictional males having a female-written relationship.

And the other character, who was supposed to be pursuing him, was written like a sexual predator. Consistently turned on by all of the tradwife elements and pretty much only by that. I generally love this character but in this fanfic I hoped someone would kill him. It was disgusting and disturbing. By the time the characters got to intimacy I was grossed out and skipped it entirely because I was about to throw up.

This is a common issue for me, a big bulk of fanfiction has already been ruined by rape fantasies, by bdsm, ddlg, fetishes, pedophilia, power imbalances, and all other influences of patriarchal society but I can usually FILTER THOSE OUT. Nobody will tag a fic 'tradwife' after they do this to a character. I've never seen a fic ruined in this particular way before.

This is mormon church's fault. They did this to me. They need to be taken down for this bs. This is taking it too far. Give me my adorable fanfictions back.

[blu3-ja3]

Civilian clothing? Absolutely and a little Treat as well! Enjoy Lovelies!

O'Connor: Long sleeves and covered neck always, even when hot. Shes insecure about her burn scar and has enough people staring at her for a lifetime. On a very rare occasion does she wear short sleeves and it's ONLY with the 141 around. She likes rich jewel tones and soft fabrics, if it's textured it feels horrible on her skin or it's too tight on her skin, she hates how it makes her scar feels when rubbing against it. She likes silver jewelry and simple makeup, a bit of gloss and her eyes (shadow, liner, cute wing, and mascara) her nails are always painted whatever colors the sergeants pick. A skirt with nice tights or leggings and a cute boot? Yes. A nice pair of jeans with a cute belt and her old black combat boots, classic. Her hair is up, braided, ponytail, bun or beanie. It's only when she goes somewhere nice does she have it down. Her bag always has her knife, a bandana, and a hair tie along with her phone and wallet.

Price: Lumberjack, lots of well fitting flannels and cable knit short sleeve polos. Nice slacks or jeans with nice combat boots and a well kept leather belt. Nice wrist watch that was a gift from Ghost. Bucket hat that matches his flannels color, he originally only had two but Gaz found a color matched bucket hat for each shirt the man had. He didn't wear them at first but eventually indulged his partner. His beard is always well manicured and trimmed.

Ghost: Mans is unironically fashionable and only wears black. Wears long and short sleeve button ups they're all perfectly tight and hugs his chest and arms well. Soap makes sure of that. Nice jeans or slacks with a black and silver belt and his well worn combat boots. Silver wrist watch, chain necklace, and rings, with black nails. He keeps a face mask on and most times wears a beanie so his eyes and the makeup on them are the only thing seen. There's a difference between Ghost doing his eyes and Soap doing his eyes. Ghost's makeup is what he always does, smeared black nothing fancy. Soap's is intricate with liner and designs, it's still chaotic but in a beautiful way, it's perfect for Ghost.

Gaz: Fashion king, everything he wears is color coordinated with Price. Sweaters with knitted designs or embroidery over a white or black collared shirt. Well tailored black or brown slacks or jeans with a belt to match the sweater main color. Nice pair of chucks customized for Gaz by Soap as a birthday present. Lots of silver jewelry and accessories out the ass.

Roach: Nice acid washed jeans and graphic tees under an unbuttoned flannel. Nice pair of vans and goofy mismatched socks. Patterned belts, multi colored beanies, and chipped nail polish. He keeps his skateboard on him and walks around with his dog Ripley.

Soap: Punk Soap? Punk Soap... Why else the goofy hair cut? He's got a custom leather jacket with hand made patches, studs, and spikes. Graphic or band tees with ripped jeans or colored checkered pants. Well worn black combat boots with custom design embroidery. Chocker with a little ghost charm, rings and layered necklace and bracelets, as well as tongue and ear piercings. Will sometimes wears fake nose and lip piercing jewelry. Nail polish and eye makeup that matches his outfit, wears black lipstick sometimes it drives Ghost crazy.

Lil Treat height and ethnicity ( I think that what its called but idk I'm not smart)

THEY'RE ALL BRITISH ARMY!

Ghost: 6'7" (British Dad/German Mom)

O'Connor: 6'5" (Irish Mom/Scottish Dad)

Price: 6'4" (Both British Parents)

Gaz: 6'2" (Swahili Mom/British Dad)

Roach: 5'9" (British Mom/Jewish Brit Dad)

Soap: 5'7" (Both Scottish Parents)

COD Master List

[minnlahzz]

pokespe characters with a s/o that wears lolita fashion.

requested.

too lazy to color the pictures blue, but they look good either way so!! I chose my favorite characters, because I'm biased, but if you want to see more then give me another ask! again I'm biased, you'll see why I'm repeating this when seeing the length of each person

characters — platinum, y, silver and gold (I love him)

— PLATINUM

platinum is a pretty classy gal. she's a big fan of victorian and rococo fashion, because they show formality and royalty. (in some way)

when she saw you dress in this style, her eyes widened as if she saw the prettiest thing ever! (she did) she likes knowing more about your style, and would definitely wear it with you. platinum notices the details most people overlook, like the embroidery on the frills of the skirt or the colors of each piece of clothing you wear.

please do her makeup, it's a dream! she won't wash off her face at all, you'd have to tell her to take it off. if not platinum will watch you do your make up for hours.

platinum's born to a wealthy family, so she is STACKED. platinum pays for everything you buy, if you buy her one she'll melt like a vanillish on a summer day. (positive) she goes shopping alot, so she is more than happy to show you around the malls and the hidden treasures she's found in there. if the items you're looking for aren't there she commissions people to make them for you!

she is a ball of positivity, she'll encourage you to get out of your comfort zone and wear your style in public (if you dont already). if you're a coordinator she'll encourage you to wear your lolita outfits in performances, and will even help you plan them out as a person whose won 2 ribbons.

— Yvonne

she really didn't care much, if you like what you're wearing then she has no room to talk with what you like.

yvonne values individuality and wouldn't see you any different if you didnt wear your style, she genuinely admires what you do! she's pretty good with fashion, so if you want a critique with kind of broken ratings get yourself your own yvonne! "needs to be more boom–shakalaka", "more fluffy!", "that color doesn't match the top." okay maybe the last one was helpful, but everything else is just her talking without thinking.

she's definitely the best person on this list to shop with, she'll pick out outfits she thinks will look good on you. it's just that she rarely goes shopping, because she rarely needs new clothes or accessories.

yvonne sees this style all the time in the kalos region, and yet she knows little about lolita fashion. if you want, you can tell her terms, types of lolitas, she'll appreciate it even if it's not her really her thing. she appreciates the dedication you people do for your style.

she naturally has a chivalrous side to her, so she'll always offer to help you whenever you're struggling. yvonne is quick on her feet, when you're stepping out of vehicles, walking up or down stairs, walking on rocky ground she'll always offer a hand!

— SILVER

he's familiar with this fashion, having seen it in magazines, posters, and occasionally in the streets of the johto region. nothing too special in his eyes, he's been to alot of places, but he says you pull it off better than most. (he's totally unbiased)

silver has basic knowledge about this. lolita fashion aims to show elegance, so whenever he sees something that would fit your style he'd buy it or point it out if you're near him.

"hey, this looks fitting, do you want it?" he asked grabbing something from the shelf.

while he may not be overly expressive, silver is supportive in subtle ways. he'd buy you surprise gifts, (with the help of green) and would walk around the shops with you if you were looking for something to buy. another way he'd do this is by listening to you yap and yap without ever getting sleepy. he's an attentive listener, but he wouldn't talk over you during your yapping sessions unless you asked him something.

speaking of not being overly expressive he has his own way of complimenting you, silvers smooth with it and he doesn't even notice.

"this fashion style is about elegance and beauty right? you sure make it look effortless."

I think out of all of them, he'd give actual good (average) fashion advice if you asked him directly, despite him wearing literally all black. silver is pretty straightforward and blunt with his opinions, not outright mean though. "I think this looks better" and "maybe try this one?" the fits always turn out really neat!

— GOLD

the second he spots you he's instantly curious, he's seen this style before in johto but never really understood why they wore this stuff. he'll ask some pretty weird questions, or give backhanded compliments, but he's not insulting you in anyway! he finds it pretty cool.

"are you dressing up for a tea party"

"execuse me?" you answered, making him even more confused.

he's interested in the fashion, tell him the difference between the blouses, petticoats, either way it won't matter because he'll forget it and you'll have to remind him. sometimes he's probably just pretending to forget it, so that he can see you get irritated.

drowns you in compliments and words you didn't even know existed, he's just a boy inlove. gold will be your personal photographer! he's surprisingly good at taking pictures, and he'll show you the pictures afterwards gushing out about how cool you looked

like everyone else he's supportive of how you dress! he'll always reassure you that he and everyone else love your style. he's pretty laid–back and kind of mean sometimes, but he knows when to draw the line.

"do i look weird?" you asked him randomly as you guys took a walk, gold stops in his tracks, raises an eyebrow, and crosses his arms.

“weird? you kidding?” he takes a moment to look you over, and then grins. “nah, not weird at all—you look awesome! like, actually way cooler than half the people here.”

sometimes gold will stare at you doing your makeup like a lovestruck fool, just thinking to himself "a person like them is interested in a person like me? woah, jirachi has blessed me yet again" he's lucky to have you.

shameless, he's not scared to tell people "you see that? that's my s/o!" because he's proud, but if you don't like it don't worry he'll shut up.

[edupunkn00b]

On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 5: Balancing the Scales

Graphical representation of the Lorenz Attractor.

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Logan Sanders, Remus' Logan Sanders wakes up to nightmare in which he never left Kelly. -

💔 Friday, May 9, 2025

Logan woke to darkness, the bedding smooth and silky and cold to the touch. He shivered, blinking and willing his eyes to adjust. It was dark outside, the windows black. The nightlights didn't shine and were for the glow of some tiny LED in the bathroom—the waterpik, maybe—Logan would have assumed the power had gone out in the night.

His watch buzzed on his wrist, an insistent tap-tap-tap-tap. He'd slept with it. Why wasn’t it charging?

Groaning, he squinted at the tiny screen.

Fuzzy white characters flashed at him and he tapped the screen until it stopped. He reached toward his nightstand for his eyeglasses but his fingers only found a water cup—blessedly empty—that he promptly knocked over. It rolled onto the floor with a dull thud and Remus shifted in the bed next to him. His phone, his entire charging station was missing from the nightstand. Had he knocked it over in the night?

Logan's pocket buzzed next and he reached inside. His hand closed on both his phone and his eyeglasses.

He’d sworn Remus had taken off his glasses last night. Laughing, he’d plucked them off and set them on his own nightstand before they… How had he ended up sleeping with them?

Logan pushed the frames onto his face and turned off the silent alarm on his phone before staring at the screen. 5:40? Why was it set so damn early? He frowned down at the text on the screen. The alarm was labeled ‘Last Chance’, set to go off every day. “Meus? This isn't funny," he groaned. "Okay, maybe a lit—" he chuckled, rolling back into bed.

He rolled face to face with Kelly’s old body pillow.

With his glasses on, he slowly recognized the dim room around him. The heavy blackout curtains, no night lights, flat, grey walls—“The color’s called Sleigh Bells, Logan, and it’s classy.”—Heart stuck in his throat, Logan slowly peered over the pillow next to him.

Blonde curls splayed out on the pillows on the other side of the bed.

Hand clapped over his mouth, Logan pulled back until he’d wiggled completely out of the bed. As his eyes grew more adjusted to the dark, he picked out additional details. Kelly’s dressing table, her valet stand adorned with that morning’s outfit. Face cream, oil diffuser, ibuprofen, her alarm clock… and an empty wine bottle crowded her nightstand. The coordinating nightstand on his side of the bed was bare save for a small reading light drilled into the wall above it.

He pulled open the nightstand drawer. Inside lay the Chaos book next to an empty eyeglass case.

His watch buzzed again, and nightmare logic snapped into place. Nodding to himself, he fell right back into his old morning pattern. Get ready. Get downstairs. Get Patton to school before she woke.

Then he could wake up and this would all be over.

Hands shaking, he pulled out a dress shirt and slacks, fumbling in the dark for a tie rack that wasn’t there. Right. Ties were at the office.

He dressed in the dark, struggling with the buttons on his shirt, the fingers in his right hand stiff, a deep ache spidering out with each movement. Finally done, he slipped out of the door and right into Patton.

“Oh!” he started, taking a beat to quietly close the door behind himself. “Sorry, Pat, I—”

“It’s okay,” Patton whispered, leaning in for a hug. “I didn’t see you downstairs so I came up to check on you.” He looked up at him, bright blue eyes large with concern. “Are you okay? Oh, good! You found your glasses!” Tapping the frames, a quick grin melted the wrinkle between his eyebrows before it quickly returned. “You…” He bit his lip, head cocked to one side like he was figuring out how to ask for something he thought Logan might say no to. “Are you okay, Dad?”

Even in a dream, he couldn’t stand to see the return of that worried look on Patton’s face and Logan pushed on a smile. “I’m perfectly fine, Pat,” he nodded, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Just a little fuzzy this morning. Breakfast will help.”

Stifling a laugh, Patton nodded. “Everything’s better with a little breakfast. There’s some of those waffles left in the freezer and those egg wraps you tucked away. I can make those for us while you get your bag.”

Logan turned back toward the bedroom. His bag hadn’t been in its usual spot by the closet. He shook his head. “I—”

Wide-eyed again, Patton took his arm, leading him toward the staircase. “It’s downstairs by the door, right?”

Nodding dumbly, Logan followed, years-old memory clicking into the gaps of his dream. “Right. Downstairs.”

They passed Remy’s room, the door cracked open. Logan slowed, peering inside. Gone were his eldest’s old posters and Lego models. A large glass-topped desk sat in one corner, a plush loveseat in the other. “Did…” Patton hesitated. “Did you need something in Mom’s office?”

Shaking his head, Logan backed away. “No, um…” He shook his head again and squared his shoulders. It was like one of Remus' video games. Finish the level and the dream would be over. “No, thought I saw something. Let’s get you breakfast.”

~

Logan fumbled through the haze of his nightmare, time stretching until he swore he experienced every minute of his old life.

But worse.

Almost a year ago, their therapist had tasked him with writing out his wants, his dreams and aspirations for the future, both for him and for what he envisioned his and Remus’ life might become. The rocky path they’d stumbled along to get to where they were demonstrated how decades of ignoring his own heart had made it far too easy for Logan to plow ahead blindly. To rip up the roots of all the good things in his life even as he fought to salvage them. Slowing down, listening for what he really wanted served not just him, but everyone who loved him, too.

This nightmarish world took Logan's dreams and ripped away all the good. Everything was wrong. It was as though he’d taken his own vision of the future and burned it, regressing, going back to a world he never wanted to know again. Even work was no solace in this world. He didn’t even see Jan, instead was haunted by the echoing laughter of that prick Devin around every corner.

The worst part, though, was how quickly he fell right back into the his old patterns. Like nothing had changed. Patton was at a sleepover at Jax’s house and after a dinner with Kelly spent bowing his head, swallowing back his words, and counting every glass of wine she drank, he cleaned up and retreated to their grey-walled bedroom. He readied for bed and pretended he couldn't her flirt and laugh with her 'business partners' on the phone from Remy's old room.

Close to midnight, she came to bed, muttered something foul about a Q-Law case that had popped up in her news feed, then fell asleep.

Blanket pulled up to his chin, Logan squeezed his eyes shut and counted by sevens until he finally, finally, finally broke free from the nightmare.

Logan opened his eyes in own room, in his and Remus’ room. The deep blue walls, the sheer curtains letting in the streetlights from outside, a bundle of Remus’ clothes on the floor in the corner. He tried to sit up, a near-impossible feat with Remus curled over his belly.

“Meus!” he cried before slapping a hand over his mouth. Patton was just down the hall. He should be asleep but the last thing he needed was to hear his father crying in the middle of the night.

His other arm curled tight around Remus’ back, hand buried in his hair. He was heavy and warm and real. “Oh, Meus,” he whispered, choking back a sob.

“Lo?” Rough with sleep, Remus’ voice was the final balm his heart needed and Logan clung to him. “Lo, what's happened?”

“I’m sorry… I…" Once the tears started, they wouldn't stop. "I'm so sorry to wake you… I…”

Remus shifted then, scooting up higher and rolling to his side. Bright green eyes looked back into his.

"Meus, I had the most horrible nightmare… I… I was…” Remus pulled him close, warm, strong arms wrapped tightly over his back, hand stroking his hair. Logan melted into his embrace. “I was… was back at… at the old house… with… with her, but…” Trembling, he forced himself to pull back enough to see Remus’ eyes. He had to know he was really there. “It wasn’t a memory… It was… it was like I’d never… never left.” He shook his head. Remy’s room turned into an office. The fresh scar along his shoulder, sleeping with his eyeglasses in his pajama pocket. Sweet Patton’s worried eyes, the tiptoeing around the house.  “And I couldn’t wake up.” He shuddered, another sob pushed its way past his lips and he smashed his mouth against Remus' shoulder, shaking his head.

Remus held him until his tremors stopped. “Shhh, you’re safe, Love… You’re safe,” he whispered, rocking him gently. He pulled back and nodded, biting his lip until blood welled. “See?" he huffed out a shaky laugh, licking at the pinprick of blood. "You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” Logan repeated, a promise to each of them. “I’m here.” He tapped the sharp indentations in Remus’ lip and brushed a gentle kiss against them. “It was… it was just a bad dream." Remus nodded, watching him carefully. "A terrible dream.”

[ealvara7]

I was inspired by frog-scream's crayon art of Beetlejuice, that I decided to pick up my own crayons and try coloring again! 🖍️

I honestly forgot how much of a hassle they are... blending is just not as easy as it is with my Prismacolors and I'm now only realizing I have a shocking lack of red... but I made do with what I have, since I have a plethora of crayons just lying at my house at this point-

I took a couple of liberties with each outfit, designing them a bit more to my liking, but all of them are pretty much based on the stage versions of the musical. A couple of these changes/additions include:

Adding a shit ton more bows onto Lydia's dinner party outfit. I saw an opportunity to add more cute things on her dress, and I took it.

Redesigning and simplifying Lydia's funeral outfit. I found a dress that I really liked while looking into a couple of other funeral outfits, and used that as the reference.

Redesigning certain elements of Beetlejuice's cowboy outfit. I wanted the general shape of this design to be more based on Toonjuice's cowboy outfit, because I love that design very much... Also, as much as I love the hat in the stage version, the perfectionist side of me said that it needed to coordinate with the rest of outfit's colors.

I've also added a couple of figure/anatomy drawings which I've made for practice! These are basically my guidelines for Lydia and Beetlejuice's shapes, alongside another height comparison.

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Lex! I loved your boyfriend hcs, I'd love to hear your headcanons on the guys as fathers 👀

omg Joz yes!! This is such a cute idea, thank you 🥰 ✨ The ST boys as fathers ✨

💕STEVE HARRINGTON is a superdad. He loves friendly competition with his (many - five, to be exact) children to see who can throw something the farthest, who can get to the car the fastest, and who can finish their desert first. - Bedtime stories are crowded with all of them on the same bed, huddled around Steve as he does voices for all of the characters. - Food is always creative and messy, and Steve encourages curiosity in every way. "Don't play with your food" is not a rule to be found in the Harrington household. - The rowdy bunch attends each other sporting events, band concerts, and school plays in a pack which is forever recognizable because of course their outfits are color coordinated.

💕BILLY HARGROVE loves his little girl more than anything else in this world. He is very protective, letting her roam at a safe distance, and worries more than he lets on about her safety and emotional wellbeing, and whatever she wants, he teaches her how to earn. - His little angel is a superfan of his metal music, so of course he picks up an extra shift every other weekend to pay for her drumming lessons. Every time a friend comes to the house while she's practicing, they comment on the noise, and all Billy says is, "I know. She's gonna be a star someday," with the proudest smile on his face. - Every time something comes up while Billy is spending time with his daughter, he tells whoever he's talking to, "Hang on. I have to ask the boss," and turns to his daughter and whispers in her ear, her face becoming very serious before she gives a quiet answer back to him. - He teaches her how to fix her own things -- the car, the toilet, the legos she knocked over on accident. He never wants her to have to rely on anyone else to solve her problems, and he teaches her to be self sufficient along with his support.

💕ARGYLE is full of childlike wonder at all times, so it's no surprise that he is the fun dad. He takes his twin boys on adventures every chance they get, and he encourages their creativity every step of the way. One of his boys is an avid painter while the other is a violinist. The walls inside their home are adorned with murals always being worked on inspired by ambient strings in the background. - Argyle's kids are homeschooled because their family prefers to hit the road for the sunny months of the year, and he figures they learn more from seeing the world than they ever could stuck inside a classroom. - He makes up stories on the fly to tell his kids, and he's always forgetting the characters names, but they don't seem to mind. The stories involve silly but useful life lessons that he wished someone would've told him when he was their age instead of having to figure them out on his own. They'll thank him someday. - The fashion sense in their family is absolutely wild. Argyle wants his kids to be able to express themselves freely with their style choices just like he does, and the result is a colorful array of garments always strewn about the home, lots of them covered in paint, and sometimes on purpose to add a little flavor.

💕JONATHAN BYERS is your average, working class father, but he is adamant about making time to spend with his family. His two daughters starting high school has been the biggest challenge for him so far, but he never misses a dance recital or a soccer game, and he's always home in time to have dinner with everyone so he can hear about their days. - The Byers family is big on gifts from the heart, so for every birthday, Jonathan makes his girls their own mixtapes complete with songs they already know and love combined with songs he thinks they should hear. It warms his heart when he hears the tracks blaring from their respective bedrooms while they get ready for school each morning. - Being an equal caretaker has always been important to him, so Jonathan took it upon himself to learn to braid. When his girls were little, he used to braid their hair before bed. Now, even though they can do it themselves, they still seek him out at least once a week or so for the perfect plait. - He is the chauffeur for his girls and all of their friends regularly. He'll take them to the mall, the arcade, to school, wherever is needed, and he never complains about it. He feels like it's a gift to be able to spend that time together while they can.

💕EDDIE MUNSON is a single dad whose son is an absolute carbon copy of him. The little guy is never sitting still, his long wild curls billowing behind him as he darts around the house with his plastic sword saving the day. Eddie is pretty sure his first words were "stick it to the man," and he smiles with pride when his son says some off the wall thing because the Munsons wear their weird like a crown. - Above everything, Eddie teaches his son to be kind. Be kind to people, be kind to animals, be kind to places, and be kind to things because the world needs more of it, and it all comes back to you. He teaches him how to put spiders outside instead of kill them and to invite the kid sitting alone on the playground to play pirates with him. Always be kind. - Corroded Coffin has a new stand in drummer while Gareth is away at school. Eddie's son is still fairly young, but he has great rhythm, and playing an instrument proves to be a great way to channel his energy. There is a new house rule that says sticks are for smacking drums only, and you can probably guess why. - Eddie plans small DnD oneshots for he and his son to play through together, and he loves it. The adventures, the battles, and the roleplaying are great for the imagination, and it's their favorite bonding time. Last year's Christmas present to his son was a custom set of abalone shell dice, and he treasures nothing more.

These were so fun to do!! Thank you for getting me thinking outside of my usual box :3 ❤️‍🔥 Requests are open!

[johnnycagestrophy]

I HEARD YOU WRITE JONSHI? CAN YOU MAKE SOME JONSHI HEAD CANONS PLS :)

OF COURSE I DO! also yes jonshi has been melting my brain recently.. i love them dearly, jonshi>>air. - (I SAW THIS ONE SOMEWHERE) Johnny WOULD color coordinate their outfits and make sure Kenshi would never find out he does it. If Kenshi found out from someone else, (becasue he cant see color), he'd question Johnny about it. Johnny would most definitely lie until Kenshi can make him tell the truth (which is very easy for him to do). Johnny would make sure his blindfolds match too. - Johnny would ask really random questions when he's alone with Kenshi. Example; "Would you still love me if i was a worm?". Which, would earn a sigh from Kenshi (he secretly likes answering his random questions). His answers vary though, they could be a simple no or he'd sigh and ignore him. - This is based off of that one intro they have, but they would get into small bets like who the best cook is, and they would bet random things on it. Johnny constantly would try and get Kenshi to bet sento on their little bets (he never does). - Johnny have a 100 step skin care routine while Kenshi just uses water and calls it a day. This shocks Johnny to his core after finding out his boyfriend just uses water on his face. - Johnny is the talker of the relationship, while Kenshi is more talker and listens to him talk and ramble. Kenshi would add little inputs into Johnny's rants. Also, while Johnny is ranting he would hold onto Kenshi's hand as he talks so he doesn't get carried away. He also talks about movie idea's with Kenshi, he really likes Kenshi's input on his ideas. - If Johnny get's drunk, he get's clingy to Kenshi. It's not like him laying ontop of Kenhsi, it's more of him holding onto his hand and sitting near him. - If Kenshi forgets to tell Johnny goodnight or give him his goodnight kiss when they go to bed he refuses to sleep. He will fall asleep at some point but he makes sure he gets his kiss. When they go to bed they usually fall asleep in a sweetheart cuddle position, they take turns with whos laying on each other. - I feel like Johnny would buy Kenshi mass amounts of blindfolds that match his sunglasses because of how much he buys sunglasses for himself. Everytime Johnny buys a pair of sunglasses he has to get Kenshi a blindfold that matches. If Kenshi needed to wash any of his blindfolds Johnny would give him a pair of his sunglasses so he would feel comfortable. - They always try to have dinner together if they can. It's comforting routine for them both, it grounds them to have something 'normal' they can do together. - They would reassure each other about what happened when Kenshi lost his eyes. Like Kenshi telling Johnny it wasn't his fault and that he did it to save him. And Johnny telling Kenshi no matter what he looks like he's still handsome to him. LIVE LAUGH JONSHI

[biffhofosho]

Hot Girls _____ | Chapter Two

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: I've had this done for days. Life is so mean not to give me the time to publish. :( Please enjoy!

Cvr | 01 | 02

It was late afternoon by the time the pair arrived at Gossamer, a boutique store in Gastown that Vi had found online. It was far hipper than any place she had ever shopped, and she would have found it too intimidating to enter if her best friend hadn’t been at her side, hands in his pockets and shrewd eyebrows up.

Everything inside was pink or black—pink walls, black racks, pink chandeliers, black couches. One wall was studded with pink neon signs with sassy sayings like “Bad Bitch” and “Flex on Your Ex” and, below them, they featured full-length mirrors and sample outfits. The racks were color-coordinated and tarted up with nothing but dresses and bodysuits, each one chicer and more daring than the last.

It was exactly the right vibe. Unfortunately, Vi brought the world’s pickiest critic.

“I know it's your personality,” grumbled Changkyun from his chair across from her dressing stall, “but would you please quit trying to floor it? Go the speed limit for once.”

Vi scowled, knuckles whitening as she gripped the hem of the current dress’s miniskirt. “What’s wrong with this one now?”

He tilted his head, his temple resting on his fist as he propped up his arm on the bolster. His tongue raced over his teeth behind his lips before he let out a slow breath. “You don’t have to show a ton of skin to be hot, Viola. I mean, okay, sure, it doesn’t hurt, but what you really have to show is confidence. I need you to start thinking about this like a fisherman.”

“Like a fisherman! What the hell does that mean? You want me in a slicker and boots?”

After twenty minutes of shooting down every damn look, Changkyun rose from his chair and approached her. Vi got the uneasy feeling that she wasn’t a fisherman at all but the bait for the sharks as he circled her, hands in his jean pockets. He sized up the gaudy royal blue chainmail fabric, the too-low cowl neck, mirrored thigh slits, and, finally, her exposed back, but his face revealed nothing as usual.

“Think about it,” he said in his low gravel. “You need the right gear for your intended catch, but you have to know what you're fishing for. This dress is a net, Viola. It's going to pull in everything, including the stuff nobody wants.”

Her best friend’s aura was always intense, but right now, his condescension took over. Viola’s bare back bristled. “What are you talking about? I saw this exact dress on a girl you took home.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay, maybe, but the one thing she had that you lack is experience.”

“Low blow, man,” Vi pouted and stacked her arms across her chest.

“I'm not talking about sex even though you're the one who said as much the other night,” he pointed out. “I'm talking about one-night stands. She knew how to pick out the bites she'd like best and throw back the ones that would disappoint or, more importantly, be dangerous. You haven’t learned those things yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like you’re just giving yourself a backhanded compliment.”

“Viola.”

Changkyun’s stern voice penetrated the quiet salon’s air. Her hands fell limply to her side at once.

He narrowed his eyes. “You get my meaning now?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Look, we can work our way up to this. Remember what I said. Baby steps. You don't think this was the dress that girl chose for the first time out, do you?”

“How should I know?”

“Exactly,” he said with a pleased smile. Suddenly, Changkyun turned and as he walked back to his chair, he said, “Don't get me wrong, you look incredibly hot in it.”

“Really?”

He smiled at her again, but this time, there was something different in it, and once again, Vi was reminded of that shark. “Absolutely, and if you weren't my best friend, I would one-million-percent approach you in the club, but I would be one of a hundred guys, and most of them won't see you in the dress. They'll see an opportunity—a checkbox. So until you learn how to spot the users, we’ll find you something that will make you feel hot and secure. Besides, a little mystery is good.”

“Hasn’t worked for me the last 25 years,” she quipped.

“No offense, Viola, but you are charmingly easy to read.”

“Well, I don’t like keeping secrets…”

Changkyun pressed his lips together. After a moment, he nodded. “I know. I know. But I’m not talking about keeping secrets. We’re just talking about one-night stands, right?”

“Right.”

“So you don’t need to know everything about each other. Maybe you won’t even know each other’s names. Does that bother you?”

“N-no.”

“You don’t like secrets, remember, and I won’t let you have them with me for this to work. You know that.”

Changkyun was right—this dress exposed far too much, but Vi had nowhere to retreat except behind her crossed arms. She chewed her bottom lip before she answered again, “Yeah, I know. I’m really fine with it. I guess it just hits different when you say it.”

“Okay,” he said. “Just know you can back out at any time if you need to.”

She huffed. “Is that what this is? Are you trying to make me back out of this?”

“As if I could.”

“Good,” she said, her arms at last dropping to her sides, her chest thrust out as proudly as her chin. “Because I’m not going to back down. I’m going to take this all the way.”

“Then I’ll stay by your side like I promised.”

Something about the way his chocolate eyes met hers made Vi’s heart shift in her chest. She glanced at her sandaled feet as she replied, “I know. Thanks, Kyun.”

Changkyun sighed and rubbed his palms along the armrests. “Okay, then let’s get you into something else. You need something that makes you feel hot while looking mysterious.”

She scoffed. “This is way more strategy than I thought. Fine. You pick something out for me.”

Her friend nearly did a double-take. “What?”

“You don't like anything that I've picked, so why don't you pick something? Just remember what I'm going for here. Not something I might have worn before but something I need to wear now.”

“Viola—”

“We’ll be here for another three hours if you don’t,” she warned.

With a sigh, he stood up and paced the racks, his calm eyes scanning a rainbow of mini dresses. After several minutes, he came back to the dressing room, a perfectly blank expression on his face.

“One dress? Really?” she said with an eyebrow popped.

“The dress,” he corrected.

“Cocky.” Vi was about to head into the room when she furrowed her brow. “Kyun, this is something my grandmother would wear.”

“You know I know Grandma Viv, and I love her, but nobody wants to see her in this dress.”

“Hey!” Changkyun stared at her and, finally, Vi relented. “Fine, maybe not, but come on, this is like a parka compared to what I picked.”

“And your point?”

She scowled. “I’m trying to get laid, remember? I’d wear something like this to a wedding.”

“First of all, you would not. I’ve been your date to a dozen weddings by now, and I’ve never seen you wear something like this. Second, this dress will one hundred percent get you laid. I guarantee it.”

Vi turned her gaze back down to the tangerine number in her hands. It was the same stretchy bodycon material as many of the things she’d tried on, but apart from a halter neck and some satiny ribbons at the back tie, it looked about as plain as something in this store could get. She looked back at her friend dubiously, but Changkyun was unrepentant as he returned to his chair and sat down for what he clearly considered the last outfit of their fashion show.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” she said.

“I am. Look, the color will make your skin tone shine, and the cut will flaunt your assets.”

“Which are?” she prodded with a cheeky smile.

“Your assets, Viola,” he repeated stubbornly, but his eyes slid to her curvaceous hips and thighs, and she grinned, victorious.

“Fine, I’ll take your word for it, but I still think it’s a little boring. There’s no cleavage at all, and there’s a freaking bow at the back. I’m trying to get away from cutesy, remember?”

Changkyun folded his arms in a way that smacked all too hard of an unswerving CEO. “I promise you, you will look anything but cute in it.”

“I’d better.”

“Put it on, Viola,” he ordered, and it made her mouth go dry.

She retreated behind the saloon door and reluctantly swapped her “open 24/7” dress for what she was convinced would be more “help wanted”, but after she’d shimmied the vibrant fabric over her full thighs and fuller hips and then tied the bow behind her neck, she turned toward the mirror and her jaw dropped.

Damnit. He was right.

She looked hot. She looked damn hot.

The orange did amplify the exotic warmth of her skin and, like a buttercup beneath the chin, reflected attention to her face. A little notch on the skirt she hadn’t noticed before gave a sultry window to more thigh, and though there wasn’t cleavage on display, the snug of the dress across the curves of her chest was just as provocative.

She pivoted and glanced over her shoulder to find her ass looked just as round as a tangerine itself, and her back was far more exposed than she expected, allowing the halter ribbons to sway tantalizingly against the bare flesh there.

Vi smiled at herself, once in triumph before she tested out a few other versions that ran the gamut between coy, seductive, and hungry—or perhaps they all looked the same. She’d have to practice a bit more before she was confident she was nailing the hot girl vibe.

Finally ready, she swung open the door.

“That’s the one,” her best friend said, those cat-like eyes thin and stealthy as he regarded her from his seat.

“You think?”

Before Vi could step out of the changing room, Changkyun was out of his seat and in the dressing room beside her, the door swinging shut behind him. Trapped in such a small space with her best friend made things… weird. Through the thin fabric, should could feel his body heat, and it carried with it notes of leather and vanilla. She had spent much of her life by his side, but she swore she’d never smelled his skin so clearly.

“Do you love it?” he asked.

Vi bit her lip and nodded sheepishly. “I love it.”

“Mm.”

He surprised her by grabbing her bare shoulders and whirling her around so she faced the mirror, him behind her. His sharp chin hovered near the crook of her neck as Changkyun continued, “Do me a favor.”

“Uh, okay?” she hedged.

“Close your eyes and picture the man you want to fuck.”

Her head whipped back as she readied to argue with him, and she realized too late that it all nearly ended in disaster. With his face so close, only a piece of paper could have fit in the space between their lips. Vi recoiled. He did not.

“Im Changkyun!” she scolded as she hurried to return her attention to the mirror.

“You said you’d listen to me,” he reminded matter-of-factly, and her temper evened out.

“Yeah, okay, fine.” She was all too happy to close her eyes now anyway.

“Picture him,” he said lowly. “Everything about him. Not just his looks but the kind of lover you need him to be.”

Resentfully, Vi squeezed her eyes shut. It took much longer than she expected considering she’d been fantasizing about this exact thing night after night for months, but she blamed it on Changkyun’s use of the word “lover.” Finally, though, the haze of her mind began to solidify into a silhouette. The shadow man moved closer, and though she couldn’t make out any of his features, his body began to take shape. Lean, defined, strong. There were tattoos there, though nothing specific besides the fact that there was a sheen of sweat glazing all of them from the hard work he’d been putting in to please her. His movements were confident and intentional from plenty of expertise.

A sliver of light illuminated a pair of lips. Soft. Delicious. The bow just a bit sharp to hint at how wicked they could be but the bottom fuller and smoother with the promise of the sweetest finish.

Vi licked her own lips.

“Good,” hummed Changkyun, and the ice water of reality washed away her fantasy.

“What’s the point of all this, Kyun?” she said both exasperated and desperately eager to move on.

“I want you to see how a dress like this will do more for you than those other ones from before.”

“Okay, but why?”

“When you know what you want and how to get it, you won’t settle for less. Dress for the fuck you want.”

Vi scrunched her nose. “You wouldn’t think it to look at you, but you also go from zero to eleven real quick, man.”

“You have no idea.”

Now she was scrunching her eyebrows.

“See,” Changkyun continued, directing her gaze back to herself in the mirror, “no man’s going to miss this dress even in a crowded club. Everyone knows how sweet a tangerine is, and they’re going to want a piece.”

“Man, you silver-tongued—” Vi cut herself off with a shake of her head. “Okay, yeah. Fine. I’m feeling you now.”

“Good because that dream man you just pictured? This is how you reel him in. There’s no shortage of selfish, lazy fucks out there, but you need a man who understands and appreciates a woman’s body. A dress like this will make him appreciate it. It’s a tease. He’ll have that sweet first taste, and he’ll find himself imagining what more is waiting for him. See the way it cinches your waist? It’s inviting hands to grab right here.”

His hands hovered at the first swell of her hips. Through the fabric, Vi could feel his residual heat like a steam from a mug, but Changkyun kept his distance, and after a moment, they fell back to his side.

“So, you’ve changed your mind about this dress?” he said with a smirk.

“You were right,” she admitted sulkily.

“Mm. And you were worried you’d only be cute… See, with the bow, now you’re something special to unwrap,” he said as he swung her around again, back to the mirror, his fingertips glancing across the tails of the ribbons and, inadvertently, her spine, “but if he’s too desperate to manage that, it’s a short detour to pleasure no matter where you end up.”

Vi imagined for a split second that her best friend’s fingertip had grazed the back of her thigh where the hem hugged beneath her ass, but she knew that had to be a byproduct of the image he’d painted. After all, Changkyun had always been good with words, especially for the kind of sultry music he wrote.

“So we’re done here?” he prompted.

“Yeah, teach.”

“Perfect. Now, take it off.”

It wasn't like the order he had given her to put it on. This—this was quiet… breathy…

Eager.

But when he spoke again, he added flippantly, “I want to get going.”

Vi crashed back down to earth like a payload of bricks. “Fine, then get out.”

She shoved her friend bodily through the door and let out a heavy breath the second she had the space back to herself. She hadn’t realized how heavy and close the air was until she was alone again.

Fast as she could, Vi dressed back in her shorts and oversized hoodie and returned with the orange dress on her arm.

“Okay, okay, we’re done,” she said.

“Actually, not just yet,” corrected Changkyun.

She popped a lush eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t even want to do this part. What else is there?”

He hummed. “I want you to start thinking 4D.”

“As in ‘four dicks’?”

“Jesus, Viola. I mean dimensions. Four dimensions.”

“Well, I don’t know! After all that ‘dream lover’ talk or whatever, I wasn’t sure what channel we were on.”

“Your dream fuckboy has four dicks?” Changkyun asked with a smirk.

“Oh, shut up. I’m eager, but I’m not that greedy. What the hell does four dimensions mean anyway?”

“There's a beauty store around the corner. I'll show you.”

Vi bought the dress, both associates eyeing her and her friend suspiciously, and the realization that they assumed something had happened in the changing room made her wince, but if Changkyun noticed, he didn't acknowledge it.

He took her bag and headed out the front door with her in tow. Her best friend was rarely chatty—usually he left the course of conversation up to her—but Vi had run out of things to talk about. Though it had always been the point of this mission, her mind was fixed on the fantasy Changkyun had ruthlessly conjured, and she couldn't unstick it.

She was so busy riding that sweaty, shadowy tattooed man that she ran right into her best friend's back as he stopped.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Sorry. Daydreaming.”

He studied her for a second before he shifted his attention to the sleek display featuring a rainbow of bottles in the window. “We're here.”

“Hey, this place is fancy,” Vi observed as she looked up at the black-and-white Parisian awning over a gilded double door. “How did you know about it?”

“I buy my cologne here. Here's your next lesson: if you want to be a lure, make yourself a sensory experience.”

“A sensory experience? And you call me a nerd.”

“That means it’s not just visuals, Viola. Your smell, your skin, your—” Changkyun stopped. His lips mashed together as he considered, but after a rough swallow, he continued, “—your taste… this is what will ensure you have the best time because he’ll work harder for you because he’ll want to.”

Vi quirked a brow. “Damn, Kyun. Sometimes it sucks that you're my best friend.”

“It does?”

“Hell yeah. Otherwise, I’d be all over you.”

While Vi fiddled with a few bottles, Changkyun watched her. After a minute, he blurted, “Viola—”

“Can I help you two find anything?” An elegant blonde woman sidled up behind them with a polished smile that twisted into something much more seductive when her eyes caught Changkyun’s face. “Oh, it’s you. Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. How are you?”

He nodded and gave the other woman a polite smile. “Good, thanks. We’re all good.”

The associate’s smile faltered as she glanced to his companion before she echoed his polite nod and retreated behind the register.

Vi leaned up to her friend's ear and whispered, “Do I spy the next Mrs. One-night-only? Am I going to get to study the master in the wild up close? Ooh, I feel like Steve Irwin.”

“You know my rules,” he replied as he picked up a bottle and idly sniffed it.

Oh yeah, she thought. No familiar faces. No sleepovers. No repeats. How could she forget, especially after her disastrous go at Henry?

Changkyun had a lot of rules for his personal life and perfectly logical reasons for most of them. He wasn't shy about sharing them either. In fact, he laid them out for every woman he'd been with so there were fewer misunderstandings when their time was up. The only thing he refused to explain was why Vi had never seen him with a girlfriend—their entire lives. She had probed plenty of times, but the only thing he'd ever said on the matter was “There's no point.”

Unsatisfied, Vi said, “What if you ran into her at a club first and then saw her here?”

“If I did, you know I’d have to stop using this store.”

“Man, Kyun, I forget how strict you can be sometimes. Am I expected to do that, too?”

“These my rules, Viola. I don’t expect you to follow them the way I do, but you should consider some of your own. If you want to stay unattached, you need rules and the determination to stick to them.”

“You’re right. But I’m not letting some guy run me out of a store I like.”

Changkyun hummed. “That’s my girl.”

Vi returned her attention to the shelves and, more specifically, the price tags underneath. “Oh, man, these are expensive.”

“Real perfumes are,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it just yet, okay?”

“Guess my Vicki Secrets Honeysuckle Apricot body mist isn't cutting it anymore. What's wrong with my signature scent?”

“Nothing,” he assured. “It's perfect for making a man fall in love with you, but that's not what we're going for, is it?”

“Falling in love? Hell no.”

Changkyun smiled that special tight smile, the one that always told her he was holding something back, but it also meant that even if Vi asked, he wasn't going to tell her what it was.

Instead, she directed her attention to the array of glass bottles spaced far enough apart that it drew the eye one by one. Each bottle was an experience, though she expected that came with the price tag. Some were faceted like jewels and others were shaped elaborately like high heels or hearts or even hot air balloons. “Okay, so what is my cheap ass looking at here?”

“Think of the bottles the same way you thought of your clothing,” said Changkyun. “They give you a hint of what’s inside. Dark and seductive. Bright and lively. Deep and powerful. Let your eyes guide you the same as they will in a club.”

Vi looked up and down the rows where four bottles caught her attention. She wanted to grab the quirkier sculpture bottles, but she remembered her best friend’s lessons from the dress shop, and she decided she needed to think more sophisticated. She went for bottles of ruby and sapphire, black and gold, and she lined them up in front of her.

“Okay, now what?” she asked.

Changkyun appraised her choices, though his face didn’t reveal whether she’d done a good job or not. He reached down the line to little cotton strips propped up in a dish and grabbed several. He chose the ruby bottle first and brought the nozzle close to the strip as he said, “We'll spray them on some paper first to see if you like them.”

A quick spritz and then a brief fan of the paper in the air, and he offered it to Vi. Before it even got to her nose, she scowled.

“I don’t like it,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Ugh, it stinks?”

Changkyun shook his head. “No, what’s the note that you don’t like?”

“Kyun, I live my life in fruity body sprays. What do I know about this?”

He glowered at her. “Too flowery? Too powdery? Too masculine?”

“No. It smells like an old lady.”

Changkyun brought the paper to his nose now and breathed. His eyes rolled back as he considered before he said, “Mm, hints of iris and amber and definitely some rose. You’re right, it’s not the scent for you.”

It was Vi’s turn to glower at her friend. “You know, you really know how to flex without looking like it.”

They tried the sapphire bottle next, but this time Vi was clear on why she didn’t like it.

“Too flowery,” she blurted as she recoiled and rubbed her nose.

Changkyun smiled. “You’re a quick learner.”

Unfortunately, neither of the next two bottles were a fit either, and Vi was startling to feel a little defeated. If the goal was for her to be able to make the right picks to reel in the right guys, she was failing miserably, first at the clothing and now at the scents. All her planning showed how little she really knew about the waters into which she was trying to dip a toe.

“You’re doing fine, Viola,” Kyun said, reading her instantly. “It’s not a test. It’s a new experience. You can’t get it wrong. You can just learn from it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Her best friend studied her furrowed brow and, when she didn’t shake herself out of her funk, he suggested, “How about this? I’ll pick three scents that I think might suit you, and you tell me what you think.”

At this, Vi perked up. Curiosity overwhelmed her as she wondered how Changkyun could possibly sum her up in a fragrance. Only he would propose such a thing.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “Bring it on.”

He nodded and headed down the row and then another and, in a blink, came back with three bottles as though he knew exactly which ones to grab.

She squinted at him. “That didn’t take very long.”

“Just try them,” he said dismissively.

Vi stared at him a minute longer, but he wasn’t budging and her curiosity was only increasing. She crinkled her broad nose and relented.

The first bottle was shaped like a poison apple, and after a quick spritz, her eyebrows raised. “Okay… Yeah, I actually like this one. It’s got some fruity notes. You know I like those.”

“I do,” Changkyun said with a smile.

“What is that I’m smelling? It’s sweet.”

“Vanilla. That’s a favorite scent for a lot of men.”

Vi bit her lip. “Tasty. I dig that.”

“Leave the paper there for a minute while you try the next. It’ll give the scent a little time to unfold. A good perfume changes over time.”

“Damn, okay, Mr. Nose. I’ll come back. Now, what’s this one?” She picked up a much less dramatic rectangular bottle in a translucent cherry red. It wasn’t one she would have picked up herself, but on first spray, the burst of cherry and almond hit her immediately, and she hurried for a second whiff. “Oh, this one smells delicious! But it’s not like my usual fruity stuff.”

Changkyun nodded. “This one’s darker. That’s the liquor in it.”

“Ooh, yeah? I like that. The guys will want to take a bite.”

Her friend didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Another whiff of the paper, and this one had definitely moved to the top of the list for now.

“Give it another minute,” he said and reached for a bowl of coffee beans sitting nearby. “Smell this.”

Vi popped an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It resets the nose. It’s easy to get the smells confused after a while.”

She shrugged and huffed the beans only to find it didn’t smell nearly as strong as she expected, but on second sniff, the coffee scent came through clearer.

“Ready?” Changkyun asked, and she nodded.

The last bottle he’d chosen was shaped like a diamond laying on its side. The black bow and smoky liquid inside gave Vi speakeasy vibes, and something about her drew her in from first sight. She sprayed a fresh paper strip, but she could smell it before she even brought it to her nose.

“Wow. Okay, wow.”

In a rare flash of brightness, Changkyun leaned forward and beamed from ear to ear. “You like it?”

“A lot! Definitely feels like nighttime. Maybe it’s ‘cause of the coffee beans, but I smell coffee in there somewhere. And there’s lots of fruits, too. And flower? Rose maybe? Okay, I don’t know what I’m talking about, but it’s super sexy.”

“Mm. If you want to know if it's a good match, you have to apply it to your skin though,” he said. “Fragrances wear differently on skin. It may smell good on paper, but there’s only one way to know if it will smell the same on you.”

Her friend grabbed her wrist and lifted it up, turning it over in his hand so the back of hers rested in the palm of his, his tan fingers curling around her toffee skin. Changkyun grabbed the bottle, the sultry liquid sloshing inside the glass facets, and he spritzed briefly across her pulse point.

“Give it a minute to dry down,” he instructed.

The first few seconds ticked by quickly, but somehow the next ticked by slower and slower, as though time itself had been trapped in molasses. Maybe it was because she was eager to smell her skin. Maybe it was because Changkyun was still cradling her hand and he’d never done such a thing before, and it was new.

In fact, today, things just felt a little weird between them. Most likely, it was the strain of their mentor/mentee relationship. They’d never had a dynamic like that before; not to mention, Vi had been out of school for several years now, so she hadn’t really planned for assignments and exams and, well, obvious failures of both this late in her life. It was more stress than she’d anticipated, even if her mentor was the person she trusted most.

But Changkyun remained just as unbothered as he usually looked. When he judged the time right, he raised her wrist to his nose and inhaled. Vi waited for him to comment, but he said nothing. Instead, he pushed her hand back toward her and said, “Here. What do you think?”

He guided her wrist to her nose this time, and she breathed in deeply, once, then twice. She closed her eyes and breathed in a third time.

Suddenly, she wasn’t in a store at all, but a crowded club. Strobe lights winked, skirts rolled up thighs, steam wafted off rolling bodies. It was intense, warm, and incredibly intimate all at once.

“Mm,” she murmured, “there’s the fruit and the rose again, but there’s something deeper. Reminds me of something from college. Incense, maybe?”

He hummed. “Patchouli I’d guess, yeah. I’m getting a lot of creamy caramel, too.”

Something about the way he said it made Vi’s brain flatline same as it had in the changing room when he was coaching her. This was the hardest she’d worked on anything since college. No wonder she was stressed out.

She sniffed her skin again and scowled. “You think it's a little strong for me?”

Changkyun stared at her. “Viola, you can pull off anything you want to. You just have to want to. A fragrance like this will give you that aura of confidence that you want.”

“You think?”

“If you let it,” he insisted. “Do you like it?”

“I do.” She paused. “Do you think guys will like it?”

“Without a doubt, but it’s important you love it, too. Just make sure it doesn’t give you a headache. You come first, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Changkyun narrowed his eyes. “I mean it, Viola. Deep-ending things can drown you.”

“I know, Kyun.”

Vi sniffed her wrist again and smiled. She smelled powerful and alluring, and she felt it, too. Her best friend was right. At the end of the day, this was about her and the woman she wanted to be, and she’d never been more grateful to have a man like Changkyun in her corner to remind her of that.

“But it's only for night time, okay?” he said abruptly, and it jerked her out of her thoughts. His back was to her as he returned the other bottles to their sections, though he said over his shoulder, “Don't go wearing that to work.”

Vi laughed. “Why not?”

“Just… don't.”

“Okay fine, man of mystery,” she agreed with a smile.

“Again with the sass,” he scolded. “I’m not trying to be mysterious, you know. I thought I was being pretty transparent.”

“Nothing about you is transparent, Kyun.”

He returned his attention to her long enough to study her face, and then he let out a sigh. He held the bottle in his hand, his thumb polishing one of the facets as he said, “This perfume? It's a love spell. Cast it wisely.”

“I thought we were avoiding love?”

“Different kind of love,” he clarified. “This kind only lasts as long as this scent does.”

“Sounds like you've got a new song in the making,” she teased.

But he remained serious as said, “Don’t waste it on your coworkers.”

With that, Changkyun turned toward the register and the lengthy blonde waiting behind it, who perked the second he headed toward her. Vi hurried to catch up, and when she got there, the associate was already in the back fetching a fresh bottle.

His card was already out of his wallet as he said, “I’ll buy it for you.”

“No, Kyun,” she said waving her hands, “you don’t need to—”

“You weren't expecting to buy it, so I'm not going to make you.”

“But I already owed you dinner to thank you for today.”

“You can take me out another night this week.”

Vi’s eyebrows scrunched. “What about band practice?”

“It’s not every night. Besides, I have to eat, right? You could just swing by one of the nights. The guys would like to see you, too.”

“Okay, fine. I can bring Chicken Box for them,” she suggested.

“And what about for me?” he said with an uncharacteristic pout.

Vi laughed. “All these years, and I’ve rarely seen you jealous. It looks cute on you.”

“I wasn’t going for cute,” he retorted. “I was going for hot.”

She snarled and gave her best friend a shove to his shoulders. “You ass. Maybe I’ll just feed your friends, and I won’t bring you anything at all now.”

“Fine,” he said, hands on his hips as he leaned in with a smug smile. “Then you’ll owe me a private dinner later.”

“Fine,” she responded just as childishly.

For a minute, they stared each other down like it was high noon in the Old West, but Vi broke first, the corner of her lips twitching, and then her best friend followed until they were both laughing as the saleswoman returned.

As soon Vi’s perfume was bagged, Changkyun paid the bill and nodded toward the door. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Kyun, no more, okay? I don’t know how other people do this much shopping. I’m exhausted.”

“So am I. Now, I’m just hungry.”

At this, Vi perked. “Good. What do you want to eat? The ramen shop Hoseok’s always rambling about is a couple blocks down if you want, or we can get some Vietnamese or Indian. It’s my thanks to you, so it’s your call, but nothing too greasy if you don’t want me falling asleep at the table.”

“Ramen’s good.”

Though Vi was decidedly more extroverted than Changkyun, she loved their easy silences, especially ones like this one. They strolled down the sidewalk under breeze-shaken maples, cars ebbing and flowing like the English Bay. The sun was warm between the skyscrapers, and nearby, silverware clinked in cafes. Sometimes, she would randomly lose her walking partner only to find him stopped somewhere behind her, squinting through storefront displays at Balenciaga or Burberry. Changkyun never said why, but she like to imagine he was dreaming about what he would buy if he made it big with his music someday. He'd always had expensive taste though he rarely splurged.

They stopped at an intersection a block away from the restaurant when a car pulled to a stop at the light, blasting some club pop remix as the driver and passenger scream-sang the lyrics, and a light bulb lit in Vi’s head.

“Hey, that reminds me,” she blurted as she swiveled to face her friend. “What’s the timeline on this mentorship because Tara texted me this flyer that on Wednesday, there’s this DJ—”

Her friend shook his head swiftly. “Wednesday? Viola, no. You’re not ready. You’re nowhere near ready.”

“Not ready? Kyun, we’ve got the bait,” she said as she waggled both handfuls of bags. “Now, we just need a fishing hole.”

“Look, do you just want sex or do you want good sex?”

“Obviously the good stuff…”

“Then pump the brakes,” he said, exasperated. “I feel like you’re not listening to a word I say.”

“That’s not true. I’ve listened to at least five of them,” she replied with a smirk, and Changkyun rolled his eyes.

Just then, her phone rang, and she groped through her hoodie pockets for it. She didn’t have the number in her contacts, but she could have sworn she’d seen it before, so she answered.

“Hello, is this Viola Flowers?” said a rich baritone on the other end.

“Yeah, this is. Who’s this?”

“Oh, hello. This is Son Hyunwoo, from your room. Oh, apologies,” he said immediately. “I mean, I’m the one who looked at renting your spare room.”

Vi pulled to a stop, a big smile on her face. Changkyun stopped, too, watching her with squinted eyes.

“Oh, hey, yeah! I was just talking about you last night,” she said, and her friend tipped his head like a cat unraveling a curious sound. “I’m glad you called. I thought it over, and, yeah, the room’s yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Hyunwoo asked.

“I mean, Minhyuk tried his best to ruin it for you, but if you help me keep his unannounced visits to a minimum, we’re on.”

“I think I can manage that. That’s exactly why I need to move out of his townhome actually. He thinks he’s the lord of the land. I have no room in my life for it.”

Hyunwoo’s tone was so even and serious, it took Vi a lot longer to process his words, and when she did, she brightened. “Was that—was that a pun?”

“I just mean some time apart is meant to be,” Hyunwoo continued unflinchingly. “I need a new sublease on life.”

“I guess it’s not normal wear and tear on your nerves, huh?” Vi prompted, and she could hear the man on the other of the line let out a short, friendly laugh, which made her burst out laughing. She bit her lip to temper her laughter before she trumpeted, “I knew it! It was a terrible pun! And then another? And another? Wow. Just wow. Bad puns are my life blood, but some people don’t really appreciate them.”

She cast a pointed side-eye to her friend, though Changkyun was decidedly unamused. In fact, something about his naturally sharp body lines looked cold and wicked as the steel of a blade.

Vi forced her attention back to her caller and said, “It’s nice to meet another aficionado for the craft of world play. So, you still want to rent the room, right?”

“I do,” Hyunwoo said. “My lease goes through the end of the month here, and I know last time we talked, I said I wouldn’t know if I could even move to the end of the month, but now I’d need to be out by then. Is that okay if it’s a month sooner than I expected?”

“Sooner’s better for me anyway,” she replied.

“Good then. If you have a sublease, can you email it to me so I can review it?”

And he’s responsible to boot? Vi thought to herself, relieved. This was a huge step up from her last disaster of a roomie.

“I’ll send it over when I get home,” she said, and her eyes narrowed. Changkyun had out-paced her now by half a block, hands in his pockets, iris tattoo flexing restlessly. “Hey, Hyunwoo, I’m out right now, so I’ll message you later once I’ve sent the lease, okay?”

“Sounds good. Have a nice day,” said the older man. He had a way of saying things as though he were twenty years older than she was instead of just five.

They said their goodbyes, and Vi jogged lightly to catch up with her best friend, who had already pulled up at the entrance to the noodle shop.

“Okay,” Changkyun said when she got there.

Her brows pinched. “Okay what?”

“Okay, let’s go to this thing on Wednesday.”

Vi dropped her bags to hug her best friend. “Really? Hell yes! Thanks, Kyun.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he mumbled as she crushed him in her embrace. “We're going to have to work through a lot between now and then to get you ready for the real thing, and I’m warning you upfront that you will not be ready by Wednesday, but we'll go and at least practice.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good,” she said as she let him go.

“But we're only doing it if you commit to it this week. We've got a lot to cover, so we'll have to meet up most nights.”

“I can do that, but can you? What about your practices?”

“We can work around them.”

“Yay!” Vi squeaked and then quickly tempered when she remembered the whole purpose of today. “I mean, yeah, sure, sounds good.”

Her friend popped one cool eyebrow.

“We can use my place while it’s still just mine,” she suggested as breezed by him into the restaurant. “Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Hyunwoo said he'd take the room. Sounds like he’ll actually start moving stuff in toward the end of the month.”

“That’s faster than you thought,” said Changkyun. “Didn’t you say he wouldn’t even know if he could move before the end of the month, and now, he’s already moving in?”

“Yeah, but at least that means I won’t have to pay the full rent again next month. My bank account will be happy.”

He hummed and returned his attention to the menu.

After they’d ordered, Vi asked, “So what do you want to cover this week?”

“Priority is safety. It always is,” Changkyun replied immediately.

“Of course,” she said though her annoyance was clear in her voice.

Her friend watched her carefully. “I know that's not the fun stuff, but we have to do it, Viola.”

“You sound like my dad,” she pouted. “But there's lots of other fun stuff on my list.”

“I know, and I'm sure you have it all organized in order of importance.”

Vi squinted at him. “Sass is my thing, not yours.”

“Is it sass if it’s factual? I’ll bet you have it typed up in your phone notepad, too.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. How’s that for mystery?” she said coyly. Changkyun raised a brow, and she sighed as she pulled out her phone again. It only took her a second to pull up her “hot girl” list, and she read, “We’ve covered the clothes and accessories. I won’t need you for the other day-of prep, so I guess what’s left is logistics and technique.”

“Technique?” he asked through a slurp of noodles.

“You know, the sexy eyes and dancing and dirty talk stuff.”

Changkyun choked and thumped his chest with his fist before he gulped down some water. After he recovered from his cough, he said, “You expect me to teach you how to dirty talk?”

“I didn’t say that. You asked what’s left. I’m telling you. I’m not going to make this weird for you. I’ll just learn some lines from porn.”

Thankfully, this time, his chopsticks were halfway to his mouth, and he was spared a second round of choking.

“Please don’t,” he said. “I don’t want you picking up insane or bad habits.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? You know this is not my wheelhouse, and I want to learn. I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Changkyun smiled at her in his gentle way, his soft parentheses dimples bracketing it. “I understand, but what’s wrong with just trying a few new things at a time? If it’s a little awkward, so what? It happens. Sex isn’t perfect, Viola. Embarrassing stuff happens. Bad dirty talk isn’t a big deal compared to some of the stuff I’ve seen.”

At this prompt, Vi propped both elbows up on the table and set her chin on her fists. With big eyes, she asked, “Really? Like what?”

He frowned lightly and looked down at their food. “I don’t know if this is—”

“Come on, man, you can’t start a thought like that and not finish it. Make me feel better.”

“Fine,” he relented but lowered his voice. “One girl sneezed right into my mouth when she was riding me.”

Vi reeled back, barely missing knocking over her bowl as she cringed. “Oh my god!”

“And another was deepthroating me, gagged herself, and threw up on me.”

“That’s possible?” she squealed.

“Shit happens,” he said with a shrug.

“New fear unlocked, holy shit.”

Changkyun shook his head. “It was messy, yeah, and kind of gross, sure, but I still got them off before they went home.”

“Are you serious?” she gaped. “How are you so calm about that? I’d die. I’d probably never attempt sex again.”

“Like I said, shit happens. They were working hard for me. I had to make them feel better.”

“I swear to god, Kyun, there’s no other man like you.”

“You’d be surprised what a guy can forgive for the sake of sex.”

Vi deflated. “If there’s anything to make me want to stick to your code to the letter, it’s this. I could never see a guy again if I threw up on him. Catch me under a river rock, bye.”

Changkyun resumed his soup slurping as though he hadn’t just traumatized his best friend for life, leaving her to gnaw on the edge of her lip.

“Food’s getting cold,” he nudged as he took another drink.

“I’ll never eat again,” she swore.

“Hot girls eat well, come on.”

“I can’t stand you and your cool guy schtick. Okay, fine,” she said twirling some noodles into a bite. “So this week, I guess I’ll let you be safety officer first, and then maybe you can point out some hot girl dances moves at the DJ thing? You can be my living mirror.”

“Living mirror?” he echoed.

“Yeah, you know. You can reflect my successes and failures. Point out stuff other girls are doing and then give me tips when I try.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Vi nodded as she gulped down a bite.

“And what about the dirty talk lessons?” he asked.

At this, she pursed her lips. “I’m really not trying to overstep your good will, man. There’s, like, Cosmo articles and shit, I’m sure.”

Changkyun laid his chopsticks across his bowl and narrowed his eyes at her. “No, Viola, I know you. If I don't help you, you'll help yourself, and I don't need you shouting ‘Choke me, daddy’ to a stranger.”

It was Vi’s turn to choke. She banged her fist against her collar bone and downed her entire glass of water.

“Shut up,” she hissed, eyes scouring the restaurant. It wasn’t too busy, but that only made it feel that much louder. “I’m not trying to ruin everyone’s meals.”

“Then I suggest you accept my help.”

Vi glowered at him. “All this time, I didn’t realize you were a blackmailer at heart.”

“Comes in handy in the bedroom, too,” he added.

“I have so much to learn, sempai.”

Changkyun smiled that secretive smile once more. His voice dropped in octave as he promised, “Good because there’s so much I want to teach you.”

[aroceu]

patpran's matching outfits

this was originally part of a thread on twitter but i figured i should stick it here too!

over the course of bbs patpran wear some...interesting outfits, but as they get together their wardrobe is a lot more coordinated and matchy 🥰 in particular, i think brown/orange seems to be associated with their happiness and comfort; red/blue symbolizes them together; and black/white i think is a little bit more of a pat motif but in the same way that stripes are pran's—black and white stripes show up quite often for both of them.

episode 2

blue is pat's color and red is pran's; however, as soon as episode 2 we see that their night clothes have swapped this:

episode 4 & episode 7 & episode 12

their most iconic redgreen moments—without a doubt i know this was intentional. (and also with pran's stripe motif weaved in all of them too!):

yes, in the last pic pat is wearing matching socks to pran's sweater. can you believe it. UGH.

episode 5

i'm sure everyone and their (baseball) mom has pointed it out, but their color swap at the top of the roof—pran in pat's blue, pat in pran's red—remains to be iconic of them. chef's kiss:

episode 6

patpran in blue and orange, which incidentally are ohm/nanon's colors (except ohm is orange and nanon is blue) in reverse! idk if this counts as matching but i wanted to point it out:

episode 7

this is when we start to see both of them mingle the red and blues together equally/in the same scenes, which of course indicates that their feelings are starting to become knowingly mutual 🥰 also special note that pat's shirt does covertly make it look like it reads "your man," while he's talking to pran

episode 7 & our skyy

this one is less matchy but instead evidence that they share clothes—because yes, the sweater pat wears at the end of ep 7 is the same one pran wears at the end of our skyy 2, which is only fitting as the scenes are parallel (patpran (almost) kissing over food and getting interrupted by pa):

episode 8 & episode 12

the black/white/orange-brown motifs my beloveds!! it's so basic at first in episode 8—indicating the start and novelty of their relationship—but is very, very obvious in the episode 12 scenes if you look for it:

episode 8

and of course we can't forget their iconic matching orange shirts in episode 8 too—this is what made me feel like orange in particular is supposed to indicate their comfort with each other:

episode 10

we start really early on with patpran both in red and blue together—really symbolic in how easily they've adapted into their relationship and each other:

i also found this really interesting—pat's shirt says "SUN SUN SUN" while pran's shirt has a rainbow on it (with "radiate positivity," lol) both of which definitely go together, however subtle this matching is!

and then of course when they go to the high school. this is definitely one of the most visually standing out matching outfits between pat and pran, the red and blue and pran's tote bag and the necklace bag all blending beautifully together. pran carrying his necklace bag, a gift from pat, while pat carries pran's tote. pat in the blue and light red, and while pran is mostly wearing his red and white stripes, you can really notice in this shot how many things he has are shades of blue—shades of pat:

not sure if i can draw a matching set from these two outfits but i still love them so i'm putting them here anyway:

episode 12

we see pran in pink a lot even when pat is donning pink/red himself—so of course it makes sense for pran, in the last scene, to don some blue. also, together comes the return of the black/white/orange-brown color palette! and of course pat wearing the smiley face shirt we saw from a brief pan over in episode 1, which we know makes pat think of pran (that shot led right into the pond flashback)—it's also the same type of smiley face that was on pran's bag when he was in high school, and fits in with the rest of the smiley faces in pran's room, symbolizing that this is where pat has always belonged: with pran.

special mention to:

pat at the beginning of episode 8! we can agree this is pran's shirt, right? pran's the one with the striped shirts with collars—pat definitely decided to wear his boyfriend's shirt after a very long night:

[leviathanlazarus]

Reaching for Stardust - Part XVI

Read Looking for Space here / Playlists / Read RFS on wattpad

Word Count: ~2800

Warnings: none:)

A/N: Thank you everyone for being patient with my posting! I'm normally very punctual but I also like to make sure I have enough future chapters written ahead of time. It's also just been a tough time lately. But I plan on getting back to more timely uploads. Hope you're enjoying <3

---

It really hit me just how big my family had become once Christmas came around, which came unbelievably quickly after Danny’s birthday passed. My own blood-family, the Kiszkas and the Wagners all blended together, crowding the Kiszkas house which was the biggest but still noticeably too small for three families bundled together. We weren’t little kids anymore–we were all adults with our own big, adult identities and voices to match, a big bunch of personality crammed into a childhood home that was beginning to feel further and further away.

I got drunk enough to not be bothered by the perpetual strangeness of my parents mingling with Josh’s–it’s not like that was an entirely novel experience, but each time the interactions began I felt the same trepidation and edginess, like my nervous system was preparing for something awful that, thankfully, never came. Everyone got one so well, so much so that I had to question if I was far drunker than I thought and seeing the world through rose colored glasses, a pair of which actually existed in Sam’s old bedroom. 

But the champagne and cocktails kept flowing, leaving me basking in a warm glow with my sweetheart. We’d all gone the silly sweater route this year, parents included, and when Josh had topped off his outfit with that adorable little penguin hat from that first Christmas we shared, my heart felt like it was going to burst and break with love. Beyond that, we were all coordinated in our itchy, glittery, ridiculous sweaters–Josh and Jake were matching in their midnight blue and silver bells, Sam and Danny in red and gold, Kirsti and I in white and green. Everyone was festive and everyone brought something to the table–literally–beginning with Jake spearheading the appetizers once again. Once I thought I couldn’t stuff myself with any more toasted bread and rich, buttery cheeses, the Kiszka parents brought out a succulent ham in tandem with my parent’s traditional roast turkey, both completed by a myriad of Wagner-made side dishes. So, by the time dessert rolled around, I felt like I really had, in Josh’s words, expanded too much to fit into my wedding dress.

But, keeping Josh’s eternal wisdom in mind, I didn’t worry. Christmas eve was easy and fun, all of us soaking in the new bonds we were forging and the old ones too. Us “kids” stole away time in the garage to smoke a bowl between meals and pound cheap beers Sam had found in the basement and I was laughing so much, enjoying myself so much, that I felt like I was in one of those cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies. Except maybe the most unorthodox one you could think of, where everyone was getting drunk and high, three of the main characters were in a band and the other two were getting married in a way that Hallmark would never capture. Our wedding would be even better than anything that had ever been on TV, I drunkenly concluded to myself. 

Still, the romance that was laden in those cheesy movies held true to my reality. Each time I passed the bowl around, lifted my drink or fork or moved in front of the fireplace made me look at my ring. Whenever I moved my hands as we sat at the table, the candlelight making the diamond and the tiny sapphires shimmer and gleam like the snow outside, and each time I looked at it, I looked at Josh next. He caught my eyes each time, face so serene and soft, and I couldn’t believe how lucky I’d gotten after all those years. Not that I was ever unlucky, but that life often felt monotonous. Never all that special. But when Josh had entered my life, it shifted entirely and suddenly “too blessed to be stressed” felt about right. My concerns about the wedding, even though it was right around the corner, were gone, at least during Christmas eve and Christmas day, when Josh and I hopped back to our blood family’s homes then back to our apartment for our own quiet time.

“For fucks’s sake,” Josh said with a laugh, gently nudging a gift bag away from the front door with his foot while we shrugged our coats off. “Our little home is just bursting with presents. What are we going to do with all of these?”

“Buy a house,” I said with a sigh, bending over to grab two more bags and move them into the living room. “Someday. Hopefully someday soon.”

“It’ll happen when it happens,” Josh assured me, helping to carry in another couple of bags. “The right one will appear before our very eyes when the time is right. Trust in the universe.”

“I always do,” I told him with a wink, then gave him a gentle jab of my elbow. “I trust you more though.” 

To be fair to all our family members, most of the gifts were totally practical and wouldn’t take up a whole lot of extra space–a new scarf for each of us, a new ugly Christmas sweater for Josh courtesy of his brothers, slippers, towels, a new set of sheets. Then there were smaller, more sentimental things, like the handwritten card Danny had given me that I immediately sat upright on top of our bedroom dresser and my favorite lighter that Sam had finally returned to me after he accidentally stole it, i.e, forgot he took it. But I knew the best gifts were being saved for last and upon returning to the living room in my comfiest pajamas, Josh was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, two mugs of hot chocolate sitting atop that.

I sat down beside him, immediately resting my head on his shoulder. “Don’t you wanna get into sweatpants or something?” 

“Good idea. I got distracted preparing the cocoa” Josh nudged a red envelope across the coffee table toward me as he stood up. “Open your present now, darling.”

“No, no,” I said, though I was already grabbing it and re-crossing my legs, excited–we’d agreed no “real” gifts, but anything Josh ever gave me was so real that I always felt it pierce my heart. “I’ll wait.”

“No, no, seriously,” he insisted, bending down to kiss the top of my head. “It’s sort of embarrassing to me but I know you’ll get a kick out of it.”

I watched his backside as he left. “Embarrassing? Really?” He half-turned his head to reaffirm my question and, curiosity and intrigue peaking, I decided to open the envelope. There was no card but there was one folded up piece of notebook paper, which I flattened on top of my knee and began to silently read:

Confirm ring size

Figure out proposal–where? SHE SAID YES! 

Engagement photos 

Confirm lodging

Suits

Call caterer

Cake flavor? FROSTING? what is a compote anyway...

Decide on cake design, find someone to bake the fucking thing

Work on vows–those words are just for her

Ring

Thank you cards

Reading each little line made me smile bigger and bigger. When Josh came back to the living room, I felt like my jaw was going to fall right out of my skull, I was so delirious. He looked just as happy when he met my excited gaze; he laughed and plopped down next to me, curling into my side. 

“What is this?” I asked, laughing, though it needed no explanation.

“It’s the undeniable proof of my own neuroses,” Josh told me, stealing the list back to review himself. “Tangible evidence that I worry about the same things you do.”

“You’ve never been a list man,” I noted. “This is surprising.”

“Yeah, well, I think we both know how many things go into a wedding now. It turned me into a list man.”

I held the piece of paper up into the blue and white glow of our Christmas tree lights–we never had enough space for a full tree, but we made do with a miniature one tucked into the corner of the living room. “I love it so much. I’m inclined to frame it,” I told him, and Josh laughed. I reached behind myself for the envelope I’d prepared, still waiting on the end table by the couch, and placed it in his lap. “Now yours. I gotta warn you though–it’s cheesy.”

“I like cheesy,” Josh assured me with an eager smile, tearing it open. It was the cheesiest yet one of the most important gifts I could think of, and the look on his face when he saw the picture affirmed that. “Wow. Yes! Our initials as the centerpiece in our wedding, inlaid in the same wood we fell in love around–of course!”

It was just that. Well, not a centerpiece–more like an entry piece, if there was such a term. Most of the wedding lingo still went in one ear and out the other. Whatever the proper word for the item, I’d custom ordered our initials–the exact way we’d carved them into the barn–to be engraved in a raw cut piece of wood and propped up just inside the lodge. It had ended up being just about the last wedding detail I needed to sign off on and it was the one I was most proud of. 

“The real thing is just for us,” I said, finally reaching for my hot chocolate. “You know, I’ve never told anyone else where our barn is. It really is our secret place.”

“Me either. It really is the place we fell in love too,” Josh said, tucking the photo back into the envelope. “It feels like just yesterday you texted me asking me to come look for constellations with you. I finally cracked you.”

I chuckled, licking foam from my upper lip. “The fact that you brought gummies helped.” 

“I know you sometimes, or rather, you often, worry that things won’t always be like this. You worry things won’t always be good,” Josh began, inching closer, his body warm and comforting. “And I know sometimes how I move so fast all the time makes you worry more. But things can always be like this, you know.”

There were so many ways that could be interpreted. “Like how?”

“Easy. Happy. Whole.”

“Goddamn,” I muttered, smiling just the same. “We really are in a Hallmark movie now.”

“I’m fucking serious, doll,” Josh insisted, quick hands assaulting my sides until I nearly toppled over with laughter. “We have everything we need! The last thing to make our lives complete is happening very soon.”

“I know. I’m excited. But isn’t that sort of daunting? If getting married is the final thing we need for our lives to be complete, won’t the rest of it be super boring?”

“There’s no such thing as ‘boring’ when it comes to you and me.”

I smiled again, bringing the hot chocolate back up to my lips. “Fair enough.” 

“It’s no secret that I worry too. You know why I meditate so frequently.”

I set my mug down and slid up to actually sit on the couch, reaching my hand down for Josh to follow. As he settled back next to me, leaning against my chest, I asked, “What are you most worried about now?”

“You know…” Josh said slowly, running his fingertips down my arm.

I nodded. “Yeah, same here. All of us being together throughout the holidays made me want it even more. Our family is supposed to stick together, but instead the boys are getting further and further away.” 

“They’ll always come back,” Josh mused. “That’s not the problem.”

“No. That’s reassuring. But where do we want to be, Josh? We still haven’t figured it out.”

“I’ve been waiting on the universe to guide me in that decision since I can’t decide.” He rubbed his cheek against my shoulder with a soft groan. “That’s okay, right? We’ve made so many decisions over these past few months–what’s wrong with putting aside this one for a while?”

“Nothing at all. I’m totally fine with that.”

Josh hummed and nuzzled my shoulder harder before he popped his head up and said, “24 more days.”

I blinked. “Seriously? It feels like it’s happening like, next week. January 18th sounds right around the corner from now.”

“Don’t wish all the time away. We need room to breathe.”

I laid my hand over Josh’s chest. “We really do. Speaking of–you’re still doing alright?” He’d recovered from his little bout of pneumonia nearly three weeks ago, but the worry of that, the memory of my own fear, still came back to bite at me every once in a while.

“Fit as a fiddle, my love,” Josh said, patting my hand over his heart. “Now should we watch one of those cheesy Hallmark movies that you think our lives are mirroring?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically, reaching for the remote. 

Twenty minutes into the movie, it was obvious that it didn’t quite mirror our lives–neither of us had some slightly obscure, ridiculously high-paying job that led us away from our hometown. We hadn’t had some random meet-cute in a snow-covered city square to bring us together. We certainly hadn’t said “I love you” after a week of knowing one another and we hadn’t gotten engaged that quickly either–not that those things already happened twenty minutes in, but I knew the play-by-play of these so-called films like the back of my hand.

“Another thing,” Josh chirped, stringing along the critique of the movie and the comparison of our lives to it. “We’re both better looking than these two leads. You know I don’t like to say anything negative about anyone, but they’re very average.” His head was in my lap and he looked pointedly up at me to add, “You’re a stunner.”

I tapped the tip of his nose. “You are, Joshua.”

“You are, mama.” He sat up and reached to the coffee table for the bowl of popcorn courtesy of both of our never-ending appetites. “I see why people like these movies so much despite all of their flaws. They’re whimsical. It’s the most cut and dry love story one can have, all nicely wrapped with a big bow.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” I agreed, stealing a handful of popcorn for myself. “You could make a really awesome love story into a film, Josh. I know you haven’t been working on anything like that lately but maybe someday–you know?”

“All of my films are love stories.”

“I know that. But like, you could do something like this but a thousand times better. A thousand times more real.”

Josh hummed softly, leaning against my shoulder. “I do want to create something big soon. I’ve been reading through all of our poetry for inspiration.”

“Really?” I asked brightly, flattered. 

“You know what I just thought of?” Josh asked, the words as bright as my own had been. “Our wedding vows are going to be like another collaborative poem. It’s like we’re going back to the beginning.” 

I smiled, chewing. “Oh my god,” I said after the mouthful of popcorn was gone. “You’re so right. I didn’t think of it that way but–yeah.” 

“Have you finished yours?”

“No,” I said shamelessly. I’d been keeping Josh fairly up to date on my vows, mostly about how nervous I was for them to be perfect and how scary it was to say them in front of other people, but the thought that it was just like another shared poem eased my mind. 

Josh chuckled, nuzzling his cheek against my shoulder. “Me either. But I’m so close. I wish I could have you proofread them for me but I think that would diminish the magic.”

“Have Jakey do it for you,” I encouraged, using my clean hand to fuss with Josh’s hair. “I bet he’d be happy to.”

“No. No one gets to see or hear it or see it before you do,” Josh said, so suddenly serious. That, too, was flattering. 

I stepped out onto the balcony for a brief look into the night sky before we went to bed. It was an exceptionally clear night despite the season and the lights of our complex and the town around us–above me was an endlessly deep ceiling of midnight blue, the color so rich and dark but not quite onyx yet. The moon was free of clouds, a startlingly bright white nearly full circle, the haze shimmering off its surface pink and blue, and the stars around it twinkled fiercely silver. It was perfect. 

Inspired, I had to look up what the moon phase would be on our wedding–a half-moon in Taurus. One side in shadow, the other in light, the whole celestial being radiating in Josh’s sun sign. That was even more perfect.

---

Tagging: @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @jjwasneverhere @gvfrry

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

[thehypotensivegrad]

The Adviser (25/45) | Bechloe Mafia AU

The Way of the Mafia (Chapter Preview - Read the rest at ao3)

The day for the seminar where Chicago was going to give a keynote address rolled in, with the days leading up to it going by relatively fast. Chloe and her friends have been hard at work in ensuring this was an afternoon to remember, and she was looking forward to how things would unfold.

She found a seat on the second level of the college auditorium where the seminar was going to be held, Aubrey right next to her. The two of them were mostly left alone on that seating level with only a scant few others scattered about in their level, and most of the audience sitting on the first level. Aubrey focused on her phone and coordinating with everyone else from the tower working with them on their "mission," leaving Chloe to her thoughts. She was a bit peeved that she didn't get the chance to see Beca earlier that day, as she claimed to be busy with a surprise, so she was looking forward to watching Chicago flail on stage when they enact their plan even more. She was, admittedly, also both curious and looking forward to the surprise Beca had promised her.

It was ridiculous. They see each other every day, but since she's moved back to her own place, she could feel the absence of Beca's presence grow intolerably more and more each day.

Chloe huffed when she saw Chicago walk in surrounded by her posse of the Kommissar, Pietro, and his bumbling brother, Theo. He was dressed in some chic business casual ensemble, a light gray coat looking suit paired with the same-colored pants, and a white shirt underneath matched with a pair of white sneakers. He was giving off a humble but wealthy aura, which was what he wanted his image to be in the first place.

Chloe sick to her stomach seeing him again in person now that the truth has become known to them. She's managed to avoid him for the last few weeks since he's been silent on his end from the moment Beca uncovered who he really was. She simply can't believe that she ever considered him a friend. Who would have thought he was someone so sinister underneath the charming and goofy persona he evoked.

It didn't help that his outfit looked so clean and pristine when she knows just how stained his hands were with the blood of the innocent people he had hurt. From RDU-90, to BLSD, and pretty much everything else Babel. It didn't sit well with her how easy he had washed his hands off of any responsibility for his actions and avoided – more like bought – his way through facing any semblance of justice as a consequence to his actions.

They were introducing Chicago when Beca arrived, dressed all suave in a blue suit and a black long-sleeved shirt underneath. She paired the suit with the pants, and shirt with her sneakers just like Chicago and Chloe couldn't help but think how they were such polar opposites of each other. Beca was a mafiosa who could rule the underworld if she wanted and Chicago a – wrongfully – celebrated CEO basking in the glory of living in the light, with a – false – reputation and image everyone would want to have. Yet here they were, the villain was fighting for the people, and the person one would think to be a white knight was the true evil master mind.

As Beca sat down, she offered Chloe some popcorn from a bucket she didn't realize Beca carried in one hand. Where she got the popcorn, Chloe wasn't so sure of. There weren't any outside.

"Is this your surprise?" Chloe asked and Beca quirked her eyebrow at her.

"This isn't even nowhere near it," Beca replied. "I'm hurt you think I'll disappoint you like this, Beale."

Aubrey cleared her throat before Chloe could even make any witty comebacks. "Am I invisible here or are you going to offer me some popcorn too?"

Beca chuckled and handed her the bucket. Aubrey grabbed a handful before passing it back to Chloe who did the same, all while Chicago started prattling on and on about leadership, innovation, and how Babel would like to save the world with its endeavors starting with their plans of developing new electric vehicles from renewable resources. He snapped his fingers at the projectionist in his own room a level above where Chloe, Beca, and Aubrey sat to start a recorded video promoting Babel Motors latest projects and showcasing their electric vehicles.

Beca smirked when the feed started rambling. Aubrey looked at a message on her phone and confirmed Chloe's suspicions on why.

It was showtime.

[grantaire-foudroye]

حببتي

give me love and araq and a bottle of wine

maybe paper or a phone

let me tell you of horrible things and of the wonder of

imagine self containedness and love

imagine finding yourself in the other

idfc who the other may be

jews and christians. a muslim woman

we’re sitting in a room really living really living

another room a different room. with my friend a hijabi a palestinian woman in a color coordinated outfit and khalid is in the back eating mehshi on his phone and hassan is smoking outside but alarabiyya news is on in the background or it’s that one sheikh with the volume

off and the two ouds in their bags above the mantel and the love of humans and the human generosity and i wanted to hug you and ask you to tell me of every loose pebble in the town where you grew up but i couldn’t and to my

friend the word home means ramallah at night when the lights are only ones left in 2008 and the houses become layl become night and dark and this rich thick waterthin darkness becomes all you are

i want you to tell me what that means to you

i want hou to tell me about each family you know abouthow my friend has relatives in my own home neighborhood about how if i go to the mosque (if i wear a hijab and follow through on what i told you, john, if i do what i should have done) and ask i will find her distant cousins and find her and help her create what home means for her (does home mean a small village left in 1927 does home mean thursday does home

mean a robins egg couch and all three major abrahamic religions and half the levant sitting in a room half crying half joyful about you and you and you and you and your found-out family? does home mean a place you can’t go to anymore?)

what about someone with a last name that doesnt exist that is immediately foreign depsite it whose mind is clogged abd fuzzy sentimental with araq whose hands are fat who needs people to feel real what will you do with her????????? god help me i want love not even like that i want things i know are impossible i want so badly want has become the foundation of my being please for the love of god cure me of thie eant and give me a good want a whole want a want for home a want for a name not this desperate want for self containment i cant do that anymore !!! give me a name god!!! give me a name that fits without a millimeter or atom or cell of strangeness

give me a bame that feeks right and send your righteous People to their home and give bring about peace because i cant take this anymore man thank you and hang tight and rock steady and surf well and ride the wave until it breaks thousand and tiny pieces stay safe and keep love and lose not hope friend for it is all we can have at the end and end and end of days now and forever may we not lose hope ameen

[homemade-clones]

Mist Squad | The Masterlist

Part of the 767th Battalion - a recon force specialized in locating, capturing targets and rescue allies -, the Mist Squad is an ARF unit focused on the capture side of things. Led by the experienced Sergeant Tooka, and aided by their highly trained massiffs, the squad has an excellent rate of successful missions.

Current members (click on their name to be taken to each individual masterlist!):

SERGEANT TOOKA | ARF | CT-8652 A seasoned trooper who has been at the lead of many successful operations before settling as the Sergeant of Mist Squad. His gruff exterior and tired eyes do well to convey the permanent "single, weary father of five" role he's been stuck in since taking over the squad. His daughter massiff is Socks, a large, scarred female who has been by his side since cadet days.

GAZE | Sniper | CT-4293 The most recent squad's addition, transferred after the loss of his sight and original squad during an infiltration mission gone horribly wrong. Voluntold to receive a pair of experimental, enhanced cybernetic prosthetics that restored his sight (at the cost of his health). Choosing to survive both out of spite and his unchecked, trauma-born emotional dependency towards anyone who talks to him for 0.5 seconds.

CHEESE | Medic | CT-2437 As fiery as the auburn locks on his head, the medic and second oldest is easily the heart of the Mist Squad. Cheese is intent on making sure his brothers are taken care of to the best of his abilities - both physically and emotionally - even if it means literally strong-arming them into self-care. Cheese's massiff is Aid, who bravely dives snout-first into the battlefield besides him, carrying the medical kits necessary to patch up the squad, even during active battle.

BEDBUG | ARF | Tracking Specialist | CT-2252 One of the best trackers of his squad (and the 767th as a whole). Fueled by a seemingly endless reserve of restless energy, Bedbug is always moving - be it exercising with his massiff Burr, be it fidgeting or taking apart whatever object is unlucky enough to end up in his hands during downtime. His eerie, nigh unbreakable focus during missions is balanced by a hair-graying lack of impulse control outside them. Despite the squad's eagle-eyed attempts at keeping Bedbug on their sights during leave, he's still managed to rack up a forked tongue and sharpened teeth, besides the too many piercings and tattoos scattered around his body.

CHARM | ARF | Infiltration Specialist | CT-2253 The team's best slicer and hacker, and indispensable asset during infiltration missions. Named after the feat he pulled during one of his first missions when he, somehow, charmed a meal (his vod, Cheese) out of a young Kryat's dragon mouth. His massiff, Dinui (mando'a for 'gift'), is not only a work partner but also son, pride, joy, and the reason Charm is always peniless despite often taking side jobs whenever the GAR isn't looking. He'll be damned if he'll let his boy have anything but the absolute best he's able to provide.

CAKE | ARF | Explosives Specialist | CT-2254 Youngest batchmate of Charm and Bedbug (by a mere ten seconds they won't ever let him forget), the squad's trap and explosives specialist is also an incurable trickster. Always down for shenanigans and seamlessly pinning the blame on his vode, pranking is his love language. The only who seems to be immune to his antics is Sugar, his massiff. She is not immune to Cake's 'fashion sense', tho, always found with armor (and scarves when off-duty) carefully color coordinated with his own outfits.

[probably more troopers will join the squad, but for now there's that!]

[koshurindia]

Luxurious Comfort: Embracing the Elegance of Premium Kashmiri Pashmina Sets

Winter fashion offers a unique opportunity to blend warmth and elegance, and nothing achieves this harmony better than premium Kashmiri Pashmina sets. Rooted in tradition and celebrated for their luxurious feel, these timeless ensembles are a must-have in every wardrobe. Whether it’s a cozy phiran kurta for women or exquisite Pakistani Pashmina suits, Kashmiri craftsmanship brings unparalleled sophistication and comfort to winter wear.

The Timeless Appeal of Kashmiri Pashmina

Kashmiri Pashmina is synonymous with luxury. Handcrafted from the fine undercoat of Changthangi goats found in the Himalayan region, this fabric is known for its exceptional warmth and softness. Unlike synthetic alternatives, authentic Pashmina not only insulates against the cold but also exudes an effortless elegance.

Pashmina sets often include beautifully embroidered shawls paired with coordinating kurtas and salwars or skirts, making them ideal for formal gatherings or festive celebrations. The intricate needlework, locally known as "Sozni" or "Aari" embroidery, enhances their visual appeal while showcasing the rich heritage of Kashmiri artistry.

Kashmiri Kurta Sets for Winter: A Must-Have Staple

A Kashmiri kurta set for winter offers a seamless blend of tradition and contemporary style. These sets, typically comprising a long kurta, trousers, and a matching or contrasting shawl, are perfect for both casual outings and elegant events. The kurta is often adorned with subtle yet captivating floral or paisley patterns that add a touch of sophistication.

Pairing a Pashmina shawl with a kurta set elevates your winter wardrobe effortlessly. Not only does it keep you warm, but it also transforms your look into one that exudes class and cultural richness. The versatility of these sets allows you to transition from day to evening with grace.

The Allure of Pakistani Pashmina Suits

Pakistani Pashmina suits are gaining popularity for their fusion of traditional charm and modern silhouettes. Renowned for their vibrant color palettes and intricate embroidery, these suits offer a regal appearance while providing unmatched warmth. The fabric’s lightweight yet insulating properties make it suitable for extended wear, ensuring you stay comfortable throughout the colder months.

Pakistani suits often feature a blend of bold designs and delicate embellishments, making them a preferred choice for weddings and festive occasions. From intricately detailed necklines to ornate borders, these suits highlight the craftsmanship that has been perfected over generations.

Phiran Kurta for Women: Embracing Comfort with Style

A quintessential piece of Kashmiri winter fashion, the phiran kurta for women combines traditional aesthetics with cozy comfort. Typically made from wool or Pashmina, the phiran is a loose-fitting garment that allows for layering while maintaining an elegant silhouette.

Modern interpretations of the phiran feature detailed embroidery and contemporary cuts, making them a fashionable choice for women seeking warmth without compromising on style. Pair a richly embroidered phiran with leggings or straight trousers and complete the look with a matching Pashmina shawl for a striking winter ensemble.

Why Invest in Premium Pashmina?

Investing in premium Pashmina sets goes beyond acquiring a stylish outfit—it’s about owning a piece of heritage. Authentic Pashmina products are known for their durability, retaining their softness and elegance for years when properly cared for. Each piece reflects the skill and dedication of artisans who have inherited the craft from generations before them.

Additionally, owning a Pashmina set supports sustainable and ethical fashion. Handmade using traditional methods, these garments provide livelihoods to skilled artisans and help preserve the cultural legacy of Kashmir.

Styling Tips for Pashmina Sets

Conclusion

Embracing the elegance of premium Kashmiri Pashmina sets transforms winter wear into a celebration of heritage and luxury. Whether opting for a chic Kashmiri kurta set, a stunning Pakistani Pashmina suit, or a cozy phiran kurta for women, these timeless pieces offer unmatched warmth, comfort, and sophistication. Investing in Pashmina is an ode to craftsmanship, sustainability, and the enduring allure of traditional fashion—a choice that never goes out of style.