#every song is like being punched in the gut but in a good way for when you need to let your feelings out in a guarded way

[angeltannis]

I found a copy of one of my favorite albums of all time at the thrift store today!! I never owned this one physically, and now for $2 I do 😤

[vapekingg]

You and Eddie have this running joke.

Or at least it started as a joke.

Once Corroded Coffin started to take off, it was hard to not get jealous. All those pretty girls throwing themselves at him at every show. They'd wait at the merch table or near the back door where the band smokes their cigarettes. Even with you hanging off of his arm, they were relentless.

So Eddie started finding you before they could find him.

You liked being in the crowd during their sets. Some of the guys' girlfriends would sit sidestage, some of them would stay in the green room, but you preferred the energy of the show. Eddie always made sure you were front row, center stage. That way he could always find you.

He made a big deal out of it, too. Pointing you out every night during their last song and handing you a VIP laminate that would get you backstage. To all of these new faces, you were just another face in the crowd. It became a thing amongst their fans. Who would be the lucky girl tonight?

But it was always you.

Because you're his favorite groupie, aren't you?

That's what Corroded Coffin's security team started calling you. Jokingly, of course. But it's carried over.

"You know why you're my favorite fucking groupie?" Eddie hisses close to your face.

You can't respond. He knows you can't respond. If it weren't for both of his hands wrapped around your throat, then because he's got your legs folded up against your chest with your ankles next to his ears. Eddie's thrusts are relentless, his cock punching into your guts with brutality, and you can't make a fucking sound.

"Because you can fucking take it," he continues, punctuating the last two words with particularly rough assaults.

Your face is getting warm from the blood pooling in your head. Your brain is pounding in your temples with each stroke of his thick cock against your slick inner walls. You need to scream, but the wail trapped in your lungs sits right below Eddie's fists at the base of your throat.

"Oh, you have something to say? Didn't lose your voice screaming my name all night?" His voice is beginning to sound far off beneath the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears. "Fuck, you feel good. Squeezing my cock, baby. Don't worry, I'm gonna let you sing."

Your throat is released and Eddie's fingers slide beneath your head, weaving into your hair. A rush of air enters your lungs, and then you hear your own foul sounds.

The sound of begging, of pleading, of crying for him to never stop, to give you more.

"Please, Eddie. Please, harder, harder, harder!" Are the only words you can remember.

And you expect Eddie to mock you. He usually does, and it's usually the final nail in your coffin. What you don't expect is the tightening of his ringed fingers against your roots. He holds your head in place and spits on your face, silencing you for only a moment.

"You know this is when you're the prettiest?" Eddie says between gritted teeth.

With the blood flowing back to your brain, you begin to hear everything again. His little grunts and moans hidden by heavy breathing, the slapping of his sweat slick skin against yours, the creaking of his tour bus bunk bed. It all comes together like some sort of symphony of filth.

"When you're all fucked out. Makeup fucked, sweaty, my spit dripping down your face. You'll be even prettier with my cum leaking out of this pussy."

Your back arches into him at the mention of Eddie filling you up. He doesn't do it often. You're careful most of the time. But on special occasions... the risk is worth it.

Eddie laughs at your response, his cock pumping into your cunt faster.

"That what you want? Me to fill you up?" He asks mockingly.

That knot in your abdomen begins to tighten. Eddie's hips rut against your sensitive clit, stroking it in time with each thrust.

"Then everyone will know you're my favorite groupie, huh?"

Eddie's hips hit your core, his cock buried to the hilt, and he grinds his waist against your clit. Stars dot your vision. Every atom in your body shivers on the edge of oblivion.

"Won't they?"

[paddockletters]

one last chance | jude bellingham

second part of echoes of him pairing: jude bellingham x reader summary: After a twist of fate reunites y/n with Jude, she finds herself torn between old feelings and new challenges as they attempt to rebuild their once fragile bond.

I found myself drawn back to the park—the place Jude and I had always gone when life felt too overwhelming. The place where we’d laughed, fought, made up, and broken down. Every corner held a memory, every bench a moment we couldn’t forget. Today, it felt like a place I came to confront myself. I needed clarity, but all I had was a heavy heart and a million questions.

The days after that night at Toby’s had been a blur. I went through the motions, met Jake for lunch, and responded to his texts, but my mind was elsewhere. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jude—his face, his words, the tension crackling between us. No matter how hard I tried to shake it, it lingered, like an unfinished song stuck on repeat.

Jake, in his usual caring way, hadn’t noticed my distraction. Or if he had, he wasn’t saying anything. It made the guilt even worse. He didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark, but how could I tell him the truth when I wasn’t even sure what it was?

I sat there, staring blankly at the ground when I heard footsteps approaching. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. There was something about Jude’s presence—he always seemed to fill the space around him, making it impossible to ignore him even when I wanted to.

“You keep running here when things get tough, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a seriousness behind his words that I couldn’t miss.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “Maybe I just like the quiet.”

Jude sat beside me on the bench, his usual confidence replaced by something more hesitant.

“Is that why you’re here, y/n? For the quiet? Or are you here because of me?”

I closed my eyes, the weight of his question pressing down on me. I didn’t want to admit the truth, didn’t want to say aloud what I’d been avoiding since the night at Toby’s. But Jude wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his hand reaching for mine. His touch was warm, familiar, and it made my heart ache in ways I hadn’t expected. “You know we’ve never been good at hiding from each other.”

“Why are you doing this, Jude? Why now?” I sighed, my voice barely a whisper.

“Because I can’t stand seeing you with him,” Jude admitted, his voice raw. “I can’t stand knowing that I let you slip away when I never stopped loving you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I pulled my hand away, standing up abruptly.

“This isn’t fair! You don’t get to just come back into my life and say things like that!”

Jude stood too, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I know it’s not fair, but when has anything between us ever been fair? We’re a mess, y/n, but we’re our mess. And I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with you being with someone else when I’m not.”

I turned away, wiping the tears that had started to fall.

“What am I supposed to do, Jude? You left. You were the one who walked away.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I hate myself for it. But I’m here now. I’m trying to fix it.”

“Fix it?” I laughed bitterly. “You can’t just show up and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

“I don’t expect that,” Jude replied quickly. “But I also know that what we had was real. It still is. And I think you know that too.”

“You can’t just come back into my life, drop that on me, and expect me to just—what? Choose you? After everything?” I turned to face him, anger and hurt swirling inside me.

“Why not?” he asked, stepping closer, his eyes dark with emotion. “Why not choose me?”

“Because it’s not that simple!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “I’m with Jake now. He’s good for me. He’s—” I stopped, my words faltering. He’s safe. He’s steady. He’s not you.

“Jake’s not the problem, y/n. He’s a good guy, I’m sure. But you’re with him because it’s easy. Because it’s not complicated. But does he make you feel alive?” Jude’s jaw tightened.

I hated him for asking that. I hated him because he was right. Jake was safe, but Jude—Jude made my heart race, made me feel things I wasn’t ready to confront. It wasn’t fair, not to Jake, not to anyone, but the truth was there, undeniable.

“What do you want from me, Jude?” Tears blurred my vision as I whispered.

He reached out, gently cupping my face in his hands, his touch soft but full of urgency.

“I want you to stop lying to yourself. I want you to admit that you’re still in love with me.”

“Jude…” I shook my head, my tears spilling over.

Before I could finish, he kissed me—soft at first, then deeper, more intense, as if he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into that one kiss. And damn it, I kissed him back. For a moment, everything else fell away. The confusion, the guilt, the fear—it all disappeared, leaving only the two of us and the undeniable connection that had always been there.

When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless, my heart racing. I stared at him, my mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered, stepping back, my head spinning. “This isn’t fair to Jake.”

“I know,” Jude said softly, his voice full of regret. “But it’s not fair to either of us if we keep pretending.”

I turned away, my chest heaving with sobs I was trying to hold back.

“What do you want me to do, Jude? Just break his heart? Leave him?”

“If you’re not in love with him, then yes,” Jude said, his voice steady but full of pain. “Because staying with him when your heart isn’t his—that’s not fair to him either.”

I knew he was right. Deep down, I knew. But it didn’t make it any easier.

That night, I made the hardest decision of my life. Breaking things off with Jake was brutal. He didn’t understand, and how could he? I barely understood it myself. The look of hurt in his eyes when I told him I wasn’t in love with him was something I’d never forget.

“I thought we were good together,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought you were happy.”

“I was,” I admitted, tears streaming down my face. “But it’s not enough, Jake. You deserve someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded, his face a mixture of sadness and confusion. It was the right thing to do, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

After the call, I felt hollow. I’d hurt someone I cared about deeply, and the weight of that guilt was crushing. But beneath it all, there was also a strange sense of relief. Like a burden I didn’t even know I was carrying had finally been lifted.

When I turned to find Jude waiting outside my apartment, his expression was a mixture of hope and apprehension. He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand, silencing him.

“Just… hold me,” I whispered.

And without another word, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as the weight of everything settled around us. It wasn’t going to be easy—nothing about us ever was—but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t running anymore.

We stood there, in the quiet of the night, and I knew. I’d chosen Jude—chaos and all—because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how messy things got, he was the one person who made me feel alive.

And that was something I couldn’t escape, even if I tried.

[crossfandomslut]

At Peace in your Fire (Pt 4)

part 1 part 2 part 3

Summary: the after math of the meeting in Hewn City

Pairing: Eris x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: out of character Feyre (Keeping secrets from Rhys) slight angst, fluff 😊

Notes: Ahhhhhhhh !! Thank you everyone who is reading, liking, commenting, reblogging and asking to be on the taglist I love each and every one of you ! This chapter is a little short, but I really hope you like it ! I wanted to get something out this weekend, and cant wait to work on the next part this week !

Eris’ POV

Eris has experienced a lot of fear in his life. Plenty of terrifying moments to plague his nightmares every century of his life. But this- Y/n falling unconscious before them, crying out in agony before the darkness took her- he thought he had suffered all his worst fears by now. He was so devastatingly wrong.

He moved so fast he didn’t have time to think about what he was doing. He was to her before her head could hit the ground. But before he could pull her into his arms, Cassian grabbed her and Azriel yanked Eris back.

“Don’t you touch her.” Azriel growled.

“You’re lucky I moved as quickly as I did! None of you sprang to action and a head wound is the last thing she needs in this state!” Eris defended.

“Why do you even care?” Mor snapped.

“Okay, that’s enough. We need to get Y/n to Madja. This meeting is over.” Rhys started to walk toward Cassian where he still held Y/n’s unconscious figure.

All Eris could do was stand there dumbly and watch as they all prepared to winnow her away, and he would have no way to know how she was or what was wrong. He hadn’t felt so helpless in so long and it felt like a punch to the gut. Only Nesta threw him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher, but it wasn’t nearly as cold as she had looked at him before.

And then they were gone. And Eris had to sit down, or he may have thrown up. He was shaking with pent up energy and emotions. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her at all during the meeting, not when she has been looking at him with soft eyes that expected a good male to be standing before her. He was not good. He was tortured and twisted and wrong. He knew if he had looked into her eyes he would have fallen apart and gotten to his knees before her to ask for her forgiveness for what had happened with Mor, and even with Lucien. He usually brushed off the comments about those events, any event where his morals are questioned. But with Y/n standing there he felt such a need to defend himself- to explain. But he couldn’t. Not fully. And now Y/n will know he is a monster, and she will never again touch his hands with softness, never again look into his eyes with hopeful caution. Gods. All it took was one damn dance and Eris was a fool for her.

He had to see her again. Had to know if she was okay. For now, though, all he can do is go home to the Autumn Court, and pray his father remained unaware of his absence.

Y/n’s POV

Amber eyes, freckled skin, sharp cheekbones, and the softest red hair. Y/n had been dreaming of this face for weeks, but now, instead of a frozen lake with pain and fear in his eyes, they were on the dancefloor. He still looked at her with fear in those beautiful eyes, but this was a much more vulnerable kind of fear. Not fear of her power, but fear of her looking too closely at him. Fear of being seen. In this dream, he doesn’t turn and run away. In this dream he stays, and they stare into each other’s souls for a long while. Then, she leans into him and rests her head on his chest, and he continues to sway her back and forth until the song comes to an end.

When she looks back up at him, his face is cold. His gaze harsh and unforgiving as he pushes her away. She stumbles, but her family rushes in behind her. Eris, who was soft and warm moments ago, was now distant and cruel as he sneers and looks you up and down before exiting the dancehall.

Y/n jolted awake gasping for air. Feyre was immediately by her side, holding her hand. When Y/n catches her breath, Feyre cups her cheek and wipes away the stray tears that Y/n hadn’t noticed falling. Feyre climbs into the bed next to her. The small bed was set up right next to the fireplace, and Y/n crooned toward the heat and golden glow on her face. It was nighttime, or maybe the early hours of the morning. Feyre laid on the side furthest from the fire, her head propped up on her hand and reached the other out to comb Y/n’s hair with her fingers.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre whispered.

Y/n motioned to her throat in a request for water and Feyre jumped up to get it for her. After a few large, unladylike gulps, she set the glass down on her bedside table. “Thank you. I’m okay. What happened?”

“We were in the meeting with Eris,” Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name and tried to not make it obvious she had just been dreaming about him, “when all of a sudden you cried out in pain and fell unconscious.” Feyre finished.

“My head had been hurting throughout the meeting. I don’t know what was wrong, I’m sorry. That must have been so embarrassing and unprofessional. Is Rhys upset?”

“Rhys? Oh Y/n, of course not! He’s been worried sick about you. Like a mother hen. He’s terrible, honestly,” Feyre chuckled softly. It made Y/n feel more at ease.

“But we didn’t get the information from Eris about the Spring Court. I messed up the whole meeting because of a silly headache- “

“Y/n, stop, it’s really okay. Eris was being an ass anyway and- “ Feyre halted as Y/n groaned and held her head in her hands. “Y/n? Y/n what can I do?” Feyre sat helpless as her twin’s face contorted in pain. Y/n swung her legs over the side of the bed to fully face the fire raging in the hearth and she felt the pressure in her head lighten.

Feyre came to sit beside her again, and when she could think again, Y/n started to remember what happened at the meeting. She remembered being confused the whole meeting. By Eris refusing to look at her, by the history with Mor and with his brother, and the rising tension in the room and the distain that her family held for Eris. She remembered the pain in Eris’ voice that no one else could bother to hear, when he said, “not all of us were as lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.” And that was when the pain in her head escalated to a point that she could not handle. Then she comes to now, when Feyre started to insult him, and the pain came back. The only to help, being the fire… Her twin wasn’t stupid. Y/n knew she had pieced it together too before even looking at her. And it wasn’t her daemati power. Y/n had worked tirelessly on her mental shield.

Y/n slowly turned to lock eyes with Feyre and was met with a knowing but weary gaze. “So… Eris, huh?”

“Ugh, Feyre!” Y/n groaned and threw her pillow at her head. Easily grabbing the pillow, Feyre and Y/n burst out into laughter. They hadn’t laughed like this together in so long. They had been so close until Feyre came to Prythian, and Y/n hadn’t noticed how much she had been missing her sister.

When their breathing slowed and they could once again keep a straight face, Y/n looked back to her sister. “I don’t know. I feel this pull to him, but I also know how much everyone hates him. I mean her tried to take you from us on that damned lake, he apparently has hurt Mor, and I don’t even know what to think about what happened to poor Lucien. And at the same time, I think I see him in a way that not even he can. He is the embodiment of fire, Fey. How could I not be drawn to him like a moth to a flame? I think… I think he might be a good male deep down. But I’m so confused.” Y/n sighed and put her head in her hands again.

Feyre rubbed her sister’s back in an attempt to soothe her. It makes sense, she thinks, for her sister to be intrigued by Eris. But she was in the same boat with their family’s animosity toward the male, it would be difficult to work around centuries of hurt, even if they were misunderstandings. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

When Y/n woke the next morning, it was close to noon and Feyre was gone. Likely off performing her duties as High Lady to get ready for the High Lords meeting, they were planning. As she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, she noticed a quill and parchment sat out on her desk across the room. Having learned how to read and write not long ago, she thought it might be a sign to practice. She had already missed her usual lesson with Rhys or Amren, so this would have to do.

She wrapped the plush green robe tighter around her shivering frame and sat in the large desk chair with her knees to her chest, her head resting atop them. The desk was a beautiful cherry oak wood, stained to deepen the natural red tint of the wood. The complexity of the color and the grain of the wood had Y/n’s mind wandering to a certain male who was just as complex and had hair a similar shade of red. Thinking of the way his hand felt on her waist as they danced, how warm he was, and the moment of vulnerability he showed during the meeting. She felt her heart crack slightly as she recounted the look on his face and the way his voice broke imperceptibly when he said, “not all of us were as lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”

The memories had her picking up the quill, dipping it into some ink, and pressing to the page.

She folded the parchment into a triangle shape that could be carried by the wind, and with all her power, willed the wind to carry it to the Autumn Court. Hoping and praying to whatever gods may listen, that no one else finds it.

Eris’ POV

The minute he arrived back in the Autumn Court, Eris was so exhausted that he could have wept when he saw his horse standing there waiting for him. The chestnut stallion was a clear mirror of himself. Tall, deceivingly strong with his lean frame, and a coat the color red that could only be found in his home court. A striking white blaze ran down his long face onto his soft muzzle. As Eris approached him, Ignatius lifted his head in greeting and let out a low nicker. Eris approached him with tired eyes and a small, fond smile. “Hello, friend. Let’s go home, shall we?” Stroking his neck in a few long, slow movements, Eris mounted his steed and they started on their way back to the Forest House.

When they made it back to the stable, Eris took Ignatius’ saddle and bridle off, put him in his stall and made sure he had extra gain for the night. Giving his friend a final brushing, Eris bid him goodnight- although it was likely closer to morning by now.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep embraced him in a tight hold and dragged him to a land of dreams. Dreams of Y/n and her shining y/h/c hair, her soft but calloused hands in his, and her stunning y/e/c eyes staring straight into his soul. He could stay in this dream forever he thinks. Hearing her soft voice say far too kind things to him.

Eris finally awoke when a maid opened his door and startled him from sleep. She squealed and jumped when Eris shot up from his bed, and profusely apologized as she scurries away, closing the door behind her. He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed, making his way over to his balcony where the first maid must have come in and set out his tea for the morning. The pot was cold by now, but that was no issue for a fire wielder. Quickly, his tea was hot once again as he sat and looked out upon the grounds of his house. House, not home. As he sat and breathed in the early afternoon air, something caught his attention. It looked like a piece of parchment floating on the breeze. It couldn’t be- but it kept getting closer to him and suddenly in was within his reach. He snatched the paper from the sky and looked at it with wide eyes. He could smell her. Y/n’s scent of cashmere and cinnamon, all things warm and comforting. He closed his eyes for a long moment, just breathing her in. when he regained his composure, he sat down and unfolded the letter.

Dear Eris,

I am fine, in case you were wondering. Truthfully… I’ve been wondering about you. Maybe that isn’t appropriate to say, but I’ve already written it and I simply can’t waste good parchment to not say what I mean and what I feel. I’m confused and I want to talk to you. I don’t believe there is ever only one side to a story and I’d very much like to hear yours.

Y/n

Eris choked out a laugh and had to cover his mouth with a hand to keep himself from breaking out into a fit. He knew she was bold, but this was something he could not have anticipated. She was thinking about him. Eris shook his head to clear his thoughts and rushed back inside to his large mahogany desk. The drawers painted the shade of green of the forest after a heavy rain. After he thought through what he wanted to say, he put ink to paper and wrote out his response. He hoped he didn’t seem desperate by responding with such haste, but he too was wondering about her and wanted to know her. So, he held the letter in the palm of his hand and set it alight.

Y/n’s POV

Despite the late start to her day, she tried to regain some sense of control by tracking down Cassian for a training session, eating lunch and doing some studying that Amren assigned her in the library. By the time she got back to her room, the sun was setting, and she asked the house to bring her dinner to her room.

With her eyes half closed from exhaustion, she plopped down on her couch in front of the already lit fire. When she peeled her eyes open, she noticed a small, folded paper sitting in front of the hearth. She felt her heart jump to her throat as she scrambled to reach for it on the ground. Holding her breath, she unfolded the paper delicately. As if it might turn to ash in her hands.

Dearest Y/n,

I am glad to know you are alright. I was… worried. About you. I am also happy to see your boldness knows no bounds. You fascinate me and I find myself wanting to know you. But it seems you have questions for me too, so let us make a deal. A question for a question. What do you say, little dove?

I eagerly await your response,

Eris

Taglist: @abysshaven @myromanempiree @lilah-asteria @96jnie

@ivy-34 @minaethrym @nebarious @anxious-study @slytherintaco @talesofadragon @paleidiot @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @tenebrisirae

[wallowslistener]

is it casual now? ೨ৎ e. x reader

𐙚˚ elliot x fem!reader. light angst. 1.4k words.

✦ it’s midnight, and the glow from the streetlights seeps through the blinds of elliot’s bedroom. you’re both sprawled out on his bed, your legs tangled together under the sheets. 

his guitar rests in the corner, a reminder of the songs he played earlier—songs that always seemed to say more than his words ever did.

the room is quiet now, except for the occasional rustle of the sheets and the soft sounds of your breathing. you lie on your back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the unspoken thoughts pressing down on you. 

elliot’s beside you, his arm draped lazily across his eyes, as if he’s trying to block out the world—or maybe just the things he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

you glance over at him, studying the familiar lines of his face, the way his hair falls messily across his forehead, the hint of a smirk that always seems to linger on his lips. it’s a face you’ve come to know so well, and yet, there’s always a part of him that feels just out of reach.

“elliot,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

he hums in response, not moving, but you know he’s listening.

“do you ever think about… us?” the question hangs in the air, vulnerable and loaded with all the emotions you’ve been trying to keep at bay.

elliot sighs, finally moving his arm to look at you. his expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that makes your heart ache. “what do you mean?”

you turn on your side to face him fully, propping yourself up on one elbow. “i mean… is this all we are? just… casual?”

he doesn’t answer right away, and that silence is all the confirmation you need. you feel a pang of disappointment, but you’ve come this far, and you need to hear him say it.

“i like what we have,” he finally says, his voice careful, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “it’s easy, you know? no pressure, no expectations… just us, having a good time.”

you bite your lip, trying to keep the frustration and sadness from spilling over. “but what if i want more? what if i need more than just… casual?”

elliot’s eyes flicker with something—regret, maybe, or guilt—but he doesn’t reach out for you. instead, he looks away, his fingers picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “i don’t know if i can give you that,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you feel the tears welling up despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. “why not?”

he shrugs, and there’s a sadness in his eyes now, a vulnerability that he rarely lets you see. “i guess i'm just… not good at that kind of thing. relationships, commitments… they scare me. i don’t want to hurt you.”

“but you already are,” you say, your voice trembling. “by not being honest with me, by keeping things… casual when you know i want more.”

elliot closes his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of your words is too much to bear. when he opens them again, they’re full of regret. “i'm sorry,” he says, and you can tell he means it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

you sit up, pulling the sheets closer around you, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. “i don’t think i can do this anymore, elliot. i can’t keep pretending that this is enough for me.”

he looks up at you, his expression pained. “i don’t want to lose you.”

“but you don’t want to keep me either,” you say softly, the realization cutting deep.

elliot doesn’t argue, and that’s how you know this is it. you nod, more to yourself than to him, as you slip out of bed and start gathering your things. the room feels colder now, the distance between you two growing with every second.

as you head for the door,elliot finally moves, sitting up in bed. “wait,” he says, his voice desperate, but you can’t look at him, not now.

“i need more than what you’re willing to give,” you say, your hand on the doorknob. “and i deserve that.”

with that, you leave, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoes in your chest. you walk out into the night, the cool air stinging your skin, but you keep going. it hurts, but you know this is what you need to do—for yourself.

as you leave elliot's place, the cool night air feels both refreshing and harsh against your skin. the ache in your chest is almost unbearable, but you keep walking, forcing yourself to focus on each step rather than the pain. you know you made the right decision, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

a few days pass, and you don’t hear from elliot. it’s agonizing, waiting for him to reach out, wondering if he’ll ever realize what he lost. you go about your days in a haze, trying to distract yourself with friends, work, anything that will keep your mind off him. but every time your phone buzzes, you can’t help but hope it’s him.

then, late one night, as you’re lying in bed, your phone lights up with a message. it's from elliot. your heart races as you open it, not sure what to expect.

“i can't stop thinking about u,” the message reads. “i know i messed up. can we talk?”

you stare at the screen, torn between hope and fear. you want to believe he’s ready to give you more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again. after a long moment, you decide to meet with him. if nothing else, you need closure.

the next evening, you meet at a small diner, one of the few places open late. elliot is already there when you arrive, sitting in a corner booth. he looks nervous, fidgeting with his cup, and the sight of him tugs at your heartstrings.

you slide into the seat across from him, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. the silence between you is heavy, filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that have been building up for days.

finally, elliot breaks the silence. “i’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft but earnest. “i was scared of losing you, so i thought keeping things casual would protect me from that. but all it did was push you away.”

you look at him, searching his eyes for the truth. “i can’t keep doing this, elliot. i need more than what you giving me.”

“i know,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “and i want to try. i don’t want to lose you, and if that means facing my fears and trying to be the person you need, then i'll do it. i care about you more than i realized, and it took almost losing you to see that.”

his words are sincere, and for the first time, you see the vulnerability he’s been hiding behind his usual laid back demeanor. he’s scared, but he’s trying. and that means something.

you take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. “i need you to be honest with me, elliot. i need to know that you’re willing to give this a real chance.”

he reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. “i am. i want to be with you, not just casually, but really with you. i’m not perfect, and i know i’ll probably mess up sometimes, but i’m willing to try. i don’t want to lose you.”

the sincerity in his voice and the way he’s looking at you make your heart swell. you can see that he’s scared, but he’s also willing to face those fears for you. and that’s all you needed to hear.

you squeeze his hand, a small smile playing on your lips. “okay,” you say softly. “let’s try.”

elliot smiles, a genuine, relieved smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “thank you,” he says, his voice full of emotion. “i won’t let you down.”

as you sit there, holding hands across the table, you feel a sense of hope that you haven’t felt in a long time. It won’t be easy, but you’re both willing to give it a real shot. and for the first time, that feels like enough.

[northsoulss]

breakaway - leah williamson

(a/n: im so sad about jen leaving arsenal, but shes in bay fc now so i hope we get news about her soon :”). also i LOVED leah’s cover of breakaway by kelly clarkson and it inspired me to to write this lol. also i’ve just been sad and stressed sooo. part 2?)

it was a gloomy day in your apartment, your clothes strewn all over the floor, dishes pilling up in the kitchen. you laid in bed, unable to move, absolutely heart broken. leah and you had parted ways not too long ago, the memory of her telling you she couldn’t do this anymore fresh in your mind.

you remember seeing leah hunched over at the dining table, phone in hand, not even acknowledging your presence. you could feel her pulling away from you, spending almost all her days outside and away from you. you really wanted to ask her what was wrong now that you’ve caught her at home. you’re sick of her silence and you want an answer.

“leah, what’s wrong?” your voice small, afraid to provoke her.

“nothing’s wrong, __. i’m fine.” she says in a deadpan voice, a slight bite to it.

“no leah! we aren’t fine! you don’t even call me baby, and you won’t even look at me anymore.” you lose it, your voice booming.

“yeah, i’ve had alot on my plate lately okay?!” she snaps back, and you finally see her face. her hair unkempt, eyes full of tears, her signature frown on her face. oh how you wanted to reach out to smooth her brows, your hand coming up to cup her face, but her hand pushes you away.

“well that doesn’t mean you get to just keep me out of it! i’m your girlfriend for goodness sakes. i want to be there for you.” your voice breaks, and you feel that familiar fear creeping back into your body.

she’s going to break up with you.

“look, __. i just can’t anymore.” leah says exasperated, hand pulling back her hair. you search her eyes, trying to find any ounce of love left, but all you saw was coldness.

there it is. that dreaded feeling.

“that’s it? you’re just going to give up?” you had more anger in your voice than you expected, the tone making leah flinch.

“i just can’t. you keep pestering me and i’m sick of it. i’m sorry.” and like that, she left your apartment, leaving you standing in your hallway, the extra set of keys to your house clutched in your fist. you sunk to the floor the moment she slams the door shut, your knees hitting the ground with a loud thud. a part of you felt empty, a vacant spot left in your heart. you spoke a language only she understood, and now that she was gone, no one will be able to understand you.

it stung, knowing that you didn’t know the reason why she left, but you couldn’t take it anymore. you couldn’t just sit in your apartment all day, not moving while the world keeps spinning. you sit up, and immediately get hit with a memory of leah. you see your guitar collecting dust in the corner of your room. you haven’t played since ever since leah left, for it was too painful to have to relive every waking memory of her each time.

one of your favourite memories of leah was singing with her. you were classically trained in guitar, always pestering her to be your singer while you played. eventually when she relented, you would always beeline to your guitar, whipping it out from its case and taking it to where she sat.

one of your favourite songs to play was “break away” by kelly clarkson, it being the first song leah sang with you. you remembered the first time she did, her voice sounded like warm honey to your ears. your ears flushed and face warm as she sang, her eyes trained on you, watching your agile fingers strum the strings. from then onwards, you always asked her to sing while you played, wanting to only hear her angelic voice.

that memory was like a punch to the gut, knowing you can no longer hear her voice other than on the arsenal women’s Instagram which you still followed. you shook away the thoughts, a long sigh escaping your lips as you massaged your temples. you look around your house, and immediately start to clean up, slowly putting things away.

after a few hours of cleaning up, you collapse on your couch, completely exhausted. you open your tiktok, planning to doom scroll till midnight when a video of jen beattie and leah pops up. you forgot you were still following jen, becoming good friends with the older woman the moment leah brought you onto the pitch two years ago.

you instantly sat up straighter, eyes fixated on leah who sat next to jen, hoodie over her head with a smile. jen held her guitar, and the moment her fingers started to strum, your heart wanted to jump out of your chest. leah’s voice, oh how you missed it. she’s singing it again.

“shes singing our song.” you mumbled to yourself as you watched, a small smile growing on your face. you read through the comments, some of them mentioning you. you were a public figure as well after all, known for playing finger style covers of different songs. when leah and you started going out, you started posting videos of you two singing and playing, the very first video being that song.

“is it true? did they really break up?” “i miss your videos with __ leah!!” comments like this made your heart ache. you went MIA the moment you two split, not posting videos for over two months now. you really missed her, so much. after watching the video, you decide, fuck it. leah doesn’t get to ruin your love for guitar, and you sure as hell are not going to step playing just because she’s not here.

deciding to finally play again, you felt a sense of relief wash over you as you strummed, a sigh escaping your lips. propping up your phone, you record yourself, you play the introduction to breakaway, singing softly. you weren’t used to singing, only ever playing with an accompaniment. certain parts of the song hit harder than the rest, you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

trying hard to reach out

but when I tried to speak out

felt like no one could hear me

wanted to belong here

but something felt so wrong here

so I pray

i could breakaway

when you finished, you look up to the camera and stared wordlessly. this was the first time you truly saw yourself post breakup, and goodness. you looked terrible. hair in a disheveled bun, eye bags big enough to fit your dog in, bloodshot eyes. you’ve definitely had better days, and this is just the start.

“i’m sorry i’ve been gone for so long. i’m currently going through one of the toughest periods of my life, so have this song for old times sake.” you say with a smile, and stop recording, posting it without any second thought. you fall back onto your bed, ignoring the ringing of your phone. things are going to become better, you thought, yet another heavy sigh escaping you.

leah’s cover: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFLBWYhs/

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 8

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

The seat you've picked for their second practise runthrough is one of the best in the house, you think quietly as the music kicks in. 

The one that you'd picked for the first practise was middling, upon review, too far back to really appreciate every silly antic on stage, and the seat you'll be hiding in on the night of the show won't be anything as special as front row, but this one...this one is good. Front and centre, no one in the seats in front of you and not so close that you have to crick your neck to look up at Changbin waving to you as he wanders along the edge of the stage - but still close enough to spot that smile and the amusement that glimmers in his eyes as he passes. 

It's nice to see the show from a place like this just once, even if the choreography isn't all out and the boys wander about rather than playing up the energy for the crowd, when there will be so much time for that tomorrow. It's even better to observe how they work in an environment you've never experienced despite so many years as a trainee.

Not that you will experience any of this yet, not really. You're not sure if the way your gut clenches is out of disappointment or relief. You've waited to headline a concert like this your entire life, but to have to start your career here, instead of something smaller like the TV stages...

The start of God's Menu blares through the small arena, every beat a gut-punch with the volume of the speakers. Your feet move with the music, dragging you up out of your seat and into the clear space of the aisle nearby. For once, the choreography feels easy; whether it is because Lee Know isn't watching your back like a hawk, or because you stop for a moment whenever you run out of room, or because the way Chan points at you and smiles makes your heart rise in your chest...

Easy plays next, subtler in sound and much sharper in movement, each move sliding seamlessly from smooth to snapping and back again. You don't dance that one half as well, you're sure - just keeping up isn't good enough, when they are so perfectly in sync, so absolutely sure of themselves after just a week of practising.

You sit down again after that one, face flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly. At least you've gotten in some practise for today.

They go for a full three hours, just like they will tomorrow. Just like it's another day for them, like it hasn't taken weeks of planning and choreography and a whole team of people to put together - and for them, you suppose, it hasn't. It's been kind of scary, actually, how easy it's been for them to come into practise and pick up choreography for one song or another, clean and go. It's taken you so long just to prepare one and a half songs; even as a trainee, you couldn't imagine being that confident after just one day.

The practise ends with an imaginary fanfare, the boys cheering themselves on through microphones before scattering to all  corners of the stage so that the band can adjust what they want to. You wander up to the stage in no real hurry, just as you had at the end of the session yesterday, hoisting yourself up onto its eddge between two lights and climbing to your feet, turning to look out at the empty auditorium.

You'd never admit it, but the sight takes your breath away. The stretch of the seats, climbing up the walls into the shadows, the shine of the lights in your eyes - and this is only a small venue. Dones and arenas stretch even further into the distance, the sea of lights infinite - if you couldn't even stand on this stage and imagine it full-

"No audience members on stage, please," Minho says behind you, wandering his way across the stage with Han trailing in his wake. "Where's security?"

He's so straightfaced that for a moment, even though you know he's joking, you wonder if he's being serious. In the next moment, Han cracks a laugh, his elbow catching MInho in his side. "What?" he says like he can't believe what he's hearing.

"What?" Minho replies, his lips curving into a smile.

"Don't be mean," Han whines, though the effect is lost in the laugh that bubbles from his mouth. It's the most relaxed you've seen him since your first week, when Felix had leaned over and said he's just shy.

"Don't worry," you say kindly, trying your best to tread carefully in this new terrain. "He does this to me all the time now."

"Ah, you know how it is then," Han sighs in agreement.

"Do you like the stage?" Minho asks, if only to draw the conversation away from his bad habits.

You nod, your eyes turning outwards again. "It's big," you comment, scanning row upon row of empty seats, all the way to the back wall. "I've never actually been on a stage in a venue like this."

Minho looks out too, eyes searching the place while he thinks of something clever to say. "It's okay," he says lightly after a moment, the tone of his voice clearly giving away that he is playing with you. "It's not that big."

"Okay, sure," you snort, and then you catch the funny, surprised look Han gives you and remember that you're still a junior here. You've begun to forget, with some of them, that they are afforded due respect as seniors, the chasm between you starting to feel smaller...but not Han, yet. Not Seungmin, or Hyunjin, or sometimes even Chan, despite how friendly he tries to be.

"Wait until award season," Minho says, patting you on the shoulder. "If we perform at those shows..."

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of it - packed arenas, audiences of other idols, international broadcasts with all kinds of eyes on them. And you weren't even playing this stage-

Sixteen weeks. And another sixteen to award season, the year over in the blink of an eye. You know by now how quickly time could disappear if you weren't careful, how six months could whittle to three and then none in the blink of an eye.

"Don't scare her, Lee Know," Chan says, pausing on his way past. A mic dangles from his hand too, flipping back and forth idly in a way that catches your eye simply for how close it seems to come each time to being dropped.

"Why would I do that?" Minho replies innocently, stepping casually out of their leader's reach. Clever, really, when he shifts just a moment before Chan can throw an arm around his shoulders to match the silly grin that's dawning on his face. "I just spent all of this time making her dance."

"Because you would," Chan says, in a voice that gets more indulgent with every syllable. "Evil rabbit."

Minho makes a noise of disgust and shuffles away two steps, nose scrunched in distaste. Across the stage, the band picks up the thread of Slump, somewhere in the verse. The lyrics spring to mind several bars later, your mind automatically catching up to them.

"Everyone's gonna be watching," Han sings casually, mic dangling by his side and his head swivelling to track the movement of the others across the stage. "I gotta show them all of me." His voice is lovely, steady and clear as a bell even at the end of their runthrough. Without a mic, he is still loud enough to be heard across the room; from several feet away, Felix lets out a loud whoop, hand up in the air as he laughs at himself.

Minho picks up where Han leaves off, pulling a face as he reaches up into the higher range of his voice once more to catch the notes. Han joins him for the final line in lieu of I.N, lost somewhere across the stage, threading in a higher harmony as the drum kicks up towards the chorus.

"Now I'm walking on my way," you sing under your breath as their voices both rise, not wanting to disturb their fun but unable to resist the rise of the music when you know the melody and you love the song. Han doesn't hear you, his back turned to look at something Felix is doing over in the corner; neither does Minho, wandering restless circles in orbit around your group as he sings. That's okay though. You didn't really want to be heard anyway, not when you aren't-

Something hard taps you on the shoulder. 

You turn, looking down; a microphone awaits, held out expectantly for you to take. Chan looks at you expectantly, the offer never wavering even though it takes you several seconds of indecision to decide what it is you're going to do about it. He waves it at you again when you don't move, insistent.

Slowly, you take it from his hand, and watch the smile that lights up across his face.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna be left stranded by myself." The sound of your voice reverberating in the rafters, filling every corner of the room, sends a shiver down your spine, a shock of lightning that winds itself into the notes that you sing, electrifying the air. To your left, Han stops singing, turning around to watch you; from the far end of the stage, Hyunjin looks up too, sharp eyes landing on you. You turn away before fear can falter in your voice, looking out to the empty crowd instead, the wide space that waits for an audience to fill it.

Imagining them there, singing along as your voice rises above them, is giddying; but why wouldn't it be, when this has been the dream all along? And now it is so close, right here within your reach and in front of your eyes, and if it runs away from you once more-

The song ends, one final note from the very back of the stage ringing out. Your voice dies in your throat, the microphone falling away - for a moment, you wish that they would start up again so that you could have four lines more, or eight, or a whole song. You could live in this feeling forever, standing here on this stage, right up until the hour of the show when people would start to fill those seats and you would have to hide away again.

In the next moment, you become distinctly aware of all the eyes that are trained on your back, and you remember that this is not where you belong.

You turn sharply on your heel to face Chan, your heart in your throat. "Thankyou," you say, in a voice that is a little too stiff to be usual, and hold out the mic for him to take.

"Hey, no worries," he replies in English as he takes it, the warm metal slipping from your grip. "Sounds good, by the way. I like your voice."

"Oh." The compliment catches you off-guard, your fingers curling around themselves in the absence of the mic. "Thanks. I've been working on the songs."

"Have you ever sung on a big stage like this?" he asks.

You shake your head, your heart jumping again at the thought of it - blinding lights and screaming crowds and the music down in your bones. "I did a survival show before I came to JYP," you say, "but the stages there were only a hundred or so people, not...thousands."

Chan's face changes, from that usual, polite warmness he puts on to a confusion that tugs at his brow. "I didn't know you were on a show," he says, in a voice that says he is dying to ask more questions.

"It wasn't very popular," you offer freely, something between a smile and a grimace turning the corners of your mouth. "It was so much work, and then they dropped two of us in the predebut stage, and disbanded six months later. I shouldn't have ever done it."

"And then JYP dropped you from Midnight as well," he adds, and then blanches at the grimace that comes across your face, rocking back on his heels. "Sorry. I didn't mean that in a bad way."

"I don't think there's any good way to say it, is there?" you reply, trying to wipe that expression off your face and slow the jump of your heart in your chest. Tension tightens in the air like a wire, expanding to fill the whole stage before it snaps. "Six years in training, three debuts lined up, and-" You stop as short as Chan did before you finish that sentence, looking at your feet to avoid looking at him. "I'm trying really hard this time, I promise. Not that I didn't try the last two times, it just didn't-"

"Hey," he says, cutting through the babble that your sentence has descended into. "I know what you mean; I was here for seven years before Stray Kids, so...I know where you're at. And you can tell me whatever you want, yeah? I'm not that scary. Ask any of them."

You lift your eyes, following the line of his finger to the seven boys he is pointing to at the back of the stage. The sharp eye of Lee Know catches yours from within the crowd, eyebrow raising as if to ask what you need; you glance away as if you hadn't noticed, eyes sliding across to the empty side of the stage. 

What are you supposed to say? I don't know if we can talk casually without it being rude, or you hold my entire life in your hands and I don't know what to do about that? If I relax before debut I'll get dropped, or I think I'm cursed? None of those things seem right to say, and when you look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to pretend like you aren't looking at all, you realise that you're still not sure you trust him, even though it's been over a month and he's given no indication that he wants you gone bad enough to undermine you.

But he never wanted you here in the first place.

"I'm not scared of you," you say, and force yourself to look him in the eye. Your mouth is set in a grim line, your jaw clenched; you know immediately by the way the corners of his eyes crinkle that he can see through the lie, but he doesn't say anything. "I'm just really focused on making it to debut. I want to be one of you, not just...the trainee on the side."

He reaches out, hesitant as his hand lands on your shoulder. Giving you time to move away, you realise, but you don't. It's grounding, in a way, even if the proximity of him and the stretch of the stadium out around you makes you want to curl up and hide away. "You already are one of us," he insists.

But when you look into his eyes, you can tell that he doesn't really believe it - and you know that he can see that you don't really believe it either.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969

[nessinborderland]

V-E-N-U-S (01)

Pairing: Rafe x plus size!Reader

Genre: smut, dark-ish fic

Word Count: 6 ,7k

Warnings ⚠️ Mildly Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, more like Enemies to Enemies That Fuck tbh, Rafe Cameron Being an Asshole, mentions of bullying, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Rough Sex, Mentions of death of a parent, Drinking, Drug Use, Rafe needs therapy asap, fatphobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: The nickname he had given you in 8th grade was supposed to be ironic. In Rafe’s defense, he used to be a pretty stupid and cruel fourteen-year-old, as most kids that age are. So yeah, nicknaming the fat and nerdy chick Venus – like the goddess of sex and beauty – had been pretty hilarious in young Rafe's opinion.

What he would've never guessed was how much that name would fit you now as a grown woman.

Notes: this is - hopefully - the first of more OBX fics written by yours truly. A joy to write really because Rafe/Drew are turning me into a mad woman and I desperately needed something to quench the thirst. So here, enjoy 💖

AO3 | Masterlist

Rafe was pretty sure he was about to do something he was going to regret. That, or go insane with desire. He could feel something sizzling in his chest the longer he stared at you, hyper-aware of the attention you were attracting. Attention that did not come from him and him alone.

"Wow," Kelce whistled beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts, "Venus looking thick as hell, man, look at that ass."

Rafe had been looking. Hard not to, when the red bikini you were wearing hugged your body like a second skin, showing off your curves in ways that made him wonder how nice it would feel to trace your soft-looking skin with his palms.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t the only one with his eyes on you.

He gulped and took another sip of his beer – jaw clenching as he tried to not let his temper get the best of him over Kelce’s words. He couldn’t blame the other guy for staring when you looked that good, but goddamit, did Rafe feel the urge to punch him and every other ogler that dared to eye-fuck you.

His eyes never left your figure as you danced by the pool with the confidence of a young woman that had outgrown her teenage insecurities, a faint smile on your lips as you swayed your hips to the beat of the Latino song playing.

It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen, and – if you had been anyone else – he wouldn't have hesitated to approach you and charm you into his bed.

But he knew it would never work. Not on you.

It was the worst-kept secret that you disliked Rafe Cameron. No, not dislike; you hated his guts; you couldn’t even stand the mere sight of him, a scowl twisting your features every time you were forced to interact with him at the country club where you waited tables. He couldn’t really blame you for that though; not after the things he had done and said to you in high school.

Even Rafe himself was aware of how much of a nasty teenager he used to be; especially to you.

You just so happened to be his favorite plaything. Why, he had no idea, but young Rafe lived for the moments where you would avoid him like the plague during recess, just so he could hunt you down to bully you in the meanest way he could think of.

You had a crush on someone, and he happened to find out? He made sure to personally break your heart. You tried to develop a friendship? There he was to break it even before it started. You dared to tell on him to a teacher? He would harass you at your own home and bombard your phone with nasty texts until you dropped it.

He was king and you were his favorite court jester.

Not that you didn't put up a fight.

More than once you had punched and screamed at him, tears in your eyes as you pinned him down under your fiery gaze. He loved it. In a way, he wondered if that was what made him sink his claws into you in the first place. You scratched that urge in him for confrontation, for a good fight.

He still remembered that altercation between you that had turned into a slapping contest in the hallways, everyone around you urging you on until a teacher came to stop it. He could still feel the sting in his cheek, remember the way your hard gaze never left his even when his palm met your skin. That was one of the reasons why he couldn't stop bullying you, even when that inevitably got him in trouble.

Rafe knew that he used to be your worst nightmare, and, at the time, he hadn’t cared how it make you feel. Looking back, he regretted it.

He really had no idea how he had once thought of you as ugly. If he was being honest with himself, had he ever? Or had he just been a horny teenager with no idea of what to do with his feelings toward the ostracized fat girl? He couldn’t be sure. To be fair, you had been awkward in high school, always dressed in baggy clothes and worn-out shoes, with your glasses at the tip of your nose, which was almost always stuck in the pages of some thick fantasy novel.

But now? The only thing he could say was that you had finally learned how to dress and flaunt every piece of your body in the best way possible.

You had the body of a fucking goddess, an hourglass figure he could get lost in, all curves and wide hips and tits that he could bet even his large hands weren’t big enough to contain. More than once he had imagined your thick thighs wrapped around his hips as he thrust into you, your soft body pressed against his.

Ironically enough, you reminded him of the artwork ‘Venus and Adonis’, which he had seen during a visit to the Met as a kid.

But it wasn’t just your body that made his dick twitch with desire.

Your eyes still had that fire from when you were kids, and your gaze could smolder him on the spot if he locked eyes with you for too long. Your lips alone were enough to make him fantasize about you on your knees with your mouth stuffed with his cock, moaning around him as he came down your throat.

Fuck, did he want you. He was getting hard just imagining all the ways he could bend you over and fuck you until you were an incoherent mess.

A hand on his shoulder followed by his name snapped him out of his thoughts, and he changed his focus to the petite redhead staring up at him with a coy smile on her face.

“Hey, Rafe.”

“Hey, Amber, what’s up?” he greeted distractingly before redirecting his gaze back to you.

His brow furrowed as he noticed a guy approach you and start to dance right behind you, a hand going on your hip as he said something in your ear. Rafe could almost hear his jaw unclench as he saw you shake your head and bat the dude’s hand away, successfully making him leave you alone after that.

“What?” he asked, focusing again on the redhead that had said something to him.

“Was wondering if you have some of the… you know…” she shrugged and leaned against him before whispering, “The white stuff.”

“Got money to pay for it?” he asked straight, taking another sip of his beer as his gaze involuntary moved back to you, still dancing by the pool and thankfully on your own.

“No,” said Amber, her hand tracing patterns on his chest, “but I’m sure we can get to some kind of agreement…”

Rafe scoffed, her double meaning clear to him. It was not the first time she offered him a fuck or a blowjob in exchange for some grams of coke, and it wouldn’t be the last. Hell, any other night and he wouldn’t have hesitated to lock himself with her in the nearest room and let her ride his dick until he came.

But not tonight. She was not who he wanted.

“Sorry, Amber, no money no coke. That shit’s expensive.”

“Oh, c’mon, Rafe–”

“Just fuck off, will you?” he snapped, shaking her hand off of him. “Not in the mood tonight.”

He heard her gasp and curse at him before storming out, but he couldn’t care less if he had offended her.

Right now, you were walking towards him.

He took another gulp of his beer as he tried to act nonchalant; the last thing he needed was for you to notice his constant stare.

But then it happened. Just as you passed by him, so close he could see the beauty marks on your neck, you looked up at him and your lips twitched before you calmy broke eye contact and walked inside the house.

Rafe took a deep breath as he considered following you. You were trying to drive him insane on purpose, it was the only explanation. Why, though? That was a question he was dying to know the answer to. It didn’t even make sense, given your history.

But things had been… off for a while now. He hadn’t even thought much about it until you had smiled at him during one of your shifts at the country club, gaze bearing into his as you refilled his glass. You never smiled at him. Never. And you had definitely never looked at him with anything other than annoyance and contempt in your eyes. That look you had sent him though (so similar to the look you sent him just now), whatever it meant – and he was sure it meant something – that shifted something in him.

After that, it was like he was seeing you everywhere.

He was at the country club; there you were, catching his eye as you served drinks and took orders. He was at the beach with his friends; oh, there you were hanging around your pogue cousin and his pogue friends. But seeing you at a party? A party thrown by kooks, of all people? That was when he started paying attention.

Fuck it, he whispered to himself before downing the rest of his beer.

His feet were dragging him inside the house before he could register the decision to follow you, and Rafe passed by the other partygoers as he looked around for you. He ended up finding you in the kitchen, leaning against the marble counter as you sipped on a glass of water and checked your phone.

He hesitated for a second by the threshold, unsure of what to say, but it didn’t last when you finally noticed him, brows raising as he approached you with a smirk.

You were going to fucking end him.

“V-E-N-U-S,” he spelled as a way of greeting, “long time no see.”

“R-A-F-E,” you imitated in a mocking tone, looking at him with a raised brow. “You know your friends are doing coke in the living room, right? Not here.”

Your expression – together with the mocking movement of you wiping your nose – wiped the smirk off his face, making him bite the inside of his cheek as he tried not to let his temper get the better of him. He wasn’t expecting a conversation with you to go smoothly, but he wasn’t expecting such clear animosity.

He let out a fake laugh and tilted his head to the side as he took a step further into your personal space, suddenly wanting to make you as uncomfortable as you were making him.

“Ha ha ha, aren’t you hilarious. Nah, I was just wondering what a pogue like you does at a party like this…” he said, bite clear in his tone. “Your cousin doesn’t let you hang out with him and his loser friends anymore, is that it?”

Rafe grinned at the glint of growing fury in your eyes.

Let it all out, baby.

“Not that is any of your business, but this pogue is a big girl,” you said with a fake smile, hands on your waist as you stared up at him. “I can go to whatever party I want and, also, I’m not always around John B.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, biting his bottom lip as he looked down at your tits, “you’re a big girl, all right.”

Your eyes grew wide at his words, and you scoffed before crossing your arms over your chest, only giving him a bigger eyeful of your breasts. Fuck, he had to get his mouth on those.

“Fat jokes, Rafe? Really?” you said, raising a brow as he sent you a sneer. “How pubescent of you. You really haven’t changed, huh? Just the same mean rich kid.”

“Oh, c’mon Venus, are you still upset over high school? We’re adults now, can’t we put that shit behind us?” He offered you his hand in a clear peace offering and you scoffed, looking down at it like it had personally offended you. “Look, I’m sorry okay, for everything. Can you forgive me?”

He actually meant it, as odd as it was; especially if he got something else out of it. Rafe would apologize a thousand times if it assured him he would get a taste of you.

“Hmm...” you patted your lower lip in pretend contemplation, and Rafe had to control himself not to replace your finger with his. “Let’s see… besides all the things you said and did to me when we were teenagers – which, I confess, I’m still not over – you have tried to hurt my cousin one too many times for me to even consider forgiving you so… how about – no.”

Rafe dropped his hand with a sigh and an eye roll.

“Really mature of you.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause you’re one to talk,” you scoffed as you purposely bumped against his side as you walked past him in direction of the sink to refill your glass. “Leave me alone and stop being a fucking creep, I know you and your friends have been staring at my ass all night.”

Rafe didn’t mean for the next words to leave his lips.

“Then maybe stop fucking walking around like you want me to spank it.”

A few seconds went by where neither of you said a word, your back still turned to him as you refilled your glass. He heard as you turned the faucet off, another moment passing before you slowly turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“What did you say?”

“What, is that not what you want when you lean over right in front of me at the country club?”

You snorted before taking a sip of your water and spilling the rest in the sink, setting the now-empty glass on the counter before sending him a very familiar look of disdain.

“You’re honest to god disgusting.”

“Okay, listen…” He took a deep breath as he chose the right words, seeing his efforts to get on your good side going down the drain. “I know that you hate me given our history, but–”

“Whatever you’re gonna say – don’t,” you stated, pushing him aside as you left the kitchen.

Rafe watched with mouth agape, brows furrowing and hands closing to fists as you pushed him aside and left the kitchen.

“You know what? Fucking fine!” he snapped at your back as he controlled himself not to go after you. “Be a bitch about it If you want, why do I care!”

Fuck you for being such a stuck-up and disrespectful bitch. No piece of ass was worth the way you backtalked. Screw apologizing, and screw you. You should be thankful he even looked at you in any way that wasn’t revulsion.

With a frustrated slap against the countertop and a growing need to punch someone, Rafe left the kitchen after you, set on making you regret your attitude by the end of the night.

«»«»«»«»«»

“Hey, bro, you all right?” Topper asked from his seat next to Rafe.

“Yeah, why?” the blond answered as he took a drag of the cigarette in between his fingers.

The party was still ongoing, with people dancing and getting drunker by the hour, including Rafe. His temper had subsided somewhat after another beer and some lines of coke, but the cogs in his brain were still turning as he concocted a plan that would make you swallow your words (and something else, if he was lucky).

He still hadn’t been able to stop himself from staring at you, but drinking was helping him not give a shit about it. He could look at whatever and whomever he pleased, and it was no one’s business – including yours. If you didn’t like it, you were more than welcome to leave his vicinity.

Rafe knew you knew he was watching you. You glanced at him from time to time, never giving him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm under his gaze. That was making his temper rise but, more than that, was seeing you sitting by the pool with some guy chatting you up (with his hand dangerously close to your thigh, he couldn’t help but note with a tick of his jaw).

“Just noticed you’ve been… distracted all night.”

“And? That a problem?”

“Not at all…” Topper answered nonchalantly, pausing for a moment before adding, “Venus looks pretty hot, doesn’t she?”

That made Rafe break his intense stare on you to focus on Topper, the other blond raising his hands at the confrontation in his eyes.

“Wow, man, easy,” he chuckled. “Can’t blame you for staring at her all night.”

“I haven’t been staring at her all night.”

“Sure, you haven’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rafe asked, starting to get particularly annoyed by the tone in his friend’s voice. “Just say whatever you wanna say, Topper.”

“Chill, bro, just noticed you seem pretty interested in her, that’s all,” he explained with a nod in your direction. “You guys made amends or something?”

“Nah, she still hates my guts and she’s still a major bitch.”

“Well, can’t blame her…”

“You’re one to talk, Top. As far as I remember, you were there too.”

“Yeah, but I’ve actually apologized for it like ages ago. She has been pretty friendly lately, that’s why I asked. Plus,” Topper paused to take a sip of his drink, “she has been staring at you a lot too.”

Rafe had nothing to say to that, just grunting in acknowledgment as he finished his beer in one swift gulp before standing up and stretching his arms above his head, sighing as his joints popped.

“Gonna take a leak, be right back.”

This time, he didn’t go back to his friends. No, he wanted to look at you closer, make sure you knew he wasn’t one to be played with. You weren’t kids anymore, but he could still make your life hell if he felt like it. If you wanted to be a bitch, then he would be a bitch back.

And that’s why he sat right beside you by the pool, so close he noticed you flinching when he sat down and his hip bumped yours, his foot also lightly touching yours as he submerged his legs in the heated pool water. You gave him no reaction besides that, your tone of voice unchanged as you kept talking and laughing as if he wasn’t even there.

“I actually don’t have the game, but I love watching playthroughs on Youtube,” he heard you say in an enthusiastic tone. “Would love to play it someday though, I have the books and they’re pretty great.”

Rafe leaned back on his hand and watched you both, a new cigarette in between his lips, chuckling as he noticed the little shimmy you did as you tried to move as far away from him as you could without sitting on the other guy’s lap.

“No way you haven’t played them!” the dude exclaimed, leaning closer to you. “I have them all on PS5. You know what, why don’t you come by my house someday, we can play together.”

“I would–”

Rafe snorted, followed by a laugh as you stopped whatever you were going to say. He tried to just sit there and breathe down your neck. He really did. But he couldn’t stand listening to that fucking guy anymore.

“Of for fuck’s sake, dude, will you shut the fuck up with that nerdy shit?”

He watched as both you and your friend finally shut up, the easy smile on your face being replaced by a scowl as you turned to him, mouth open to no doubt tell him to go fuck himself.

“Rafe, c’mon man, what’s your problem?”

Ryan. Or was it Brian? Rafe didn’t care what the dude’s name was, but he was pretty close to just giving it a go and trying to drown the guy for even daring to talk back at him. His dad was some distinguished surgeon or some shit, so Rafe knew that if he got into a fight with him consequences would inevitably come in the form of Ward, but honestly? He couldn’t care less right now.

“Me?” he asked in mock surprise, pointing at himself with a scoff before throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “Oh, I got no problem. But I would really appreciate it if you would just fuck off so I could talk with my girl here. You know, I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to fuck her right anyway. She’s, well, she’s not a small girl and I don’t see a lot of muscle on you so–”

Your elbow hitting his side was enough for him to let you go with a huff. Rafe just stared as you stood up in a hurry, the eyes of the people that had noticed the altercation following you as you stormed off.

He watched you go, content with himself, eyes darkening as he focused on the other guy again.

“Lucky for you,” he started, threat clear in his voice as he stood up, “I got more important shit to do right now.”

With that, he stormed off after you.

He found you by the front lawn, where you now stood in a pair of shorts and a fine jacket, your phone in hand as you no doubt called someone to come get you. Rafe didn’t even hesitate before snatching the phone from your hand, putting it against his own ear as the familiar voice of John B called your name.

“Yeah, sorry, she’s busy right now,” he said, not waiting to hear the response as he disconnected the call.

“Hey, are you fucking insane?” you exclaimed as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Nah, just drunk,” Rafe laughed as he held the phone above his head and out of your reach, watching you jump and press yourself against him in your sad attempts at getting the device back.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you said with a swat at his chest before taking a step back and extending him your hand. “Give me back my phone, you asshole!”

“What’s in it for me?” he dared with a smirk.

“Not getting kicked in the dick, for starters,” you replied, still demanding your phone. “Also, can you tell me why the fuck did you act like a complete idiot back there? First, you insult me, then you keep staring at me like some perv, and now you just tried to… what, exactly? Embarrass me in front of everyone by causing a scene?”

“You should thank me, that dude had bad intentions.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause your intentions towards me are so pure.”

He paused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not some naïve little girl, Rafe. What, think I wouldn’t know why you’ve been staring at me like I’m the last cookie in the jar?”

“Okay, listen, whatever you think you saw–”

“What, embarrassed to admit you wanna fuck the fat girl?”

“Be careful, Venus,” he warned, eyes slanting as he took a step towards you. “Sometimes words backfire.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to fuck me?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to?”

You did nothing but stare into each other’s eyes for what to Rafe felt like an eternity. He could see the fire in your gaze, feel the desire burning inside him as his dick hardened under his shorts at the sight of your chest right in his face and your lips so close to his. All he had to do was to grab you by the back of your neck and press his lips against yours. Just a simple move and he would know what your lips tasted like.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me even if I let you,” you broke the spell, fingers touching his chest as you pushed him away, challenge in your eyes.

A moment passed. Then Rafe smirked.

“Bet.”

You shrieked as he picked you up and over his shoulder, and he huffed out a laugh as you screamed his name and thrashed against his hold. Sure, you were heavier than any other girl he had done this to, but you were nothing he couldn’t handle. With a slap to your ass and a hand on your shorts to stabilize you, he returned inside the house like a man who had just hunted down the big prize.

He ignored your screams of his name and your fists against his back, barely noticing everyone’s eyes on him as he took the stairs one by one.

He opened an unlocked door, commanding the half-naked couple in there to leave before throwing you on the bed without ceremony.

“Oh, I’m gonna make you regret this!” you shouted as he locked the door. “You can bet I’m gonna spit on every single one of your drinks from now–”

He shut you up by cradling your face and pulling you up into a deep kiss, tongue swiftly passing by your parted lips as you weakly tried to push him off. A bite on his tongue made him grunt and pull away, only to see you staring at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest, a small stain of his blood on your lips.

“I couldn’t care less if you spit in my drinks,” he said as his thumb grazed your lip to collect his blood before pushing it in against your tongue. “Now be a good girl and suck on it.”

He couldn’t say he was surprised when you bit him instead, pushing him away as you crawled further to the other side of the bed, a look of unease and want mixing in your heated gaze.

That look was enough for him to decide how this night was going to go.

“Touch me again and I’ll bite your dick off.”

“Do you imagine my dick in your mouth that often?”

“Ugh, you’re such a pig!”

Rafe took off his shirt in one swift move, throwing it somewhere in the room before getting on his hands and knees on the mattress, eyes never leaving yours as he crawled closer.

“I can be worse if you let me.”

“Rafe–”

“What?” he asked as he successfully trapped you under his frame, lips brushing against your neck as he whispered in your ear. “Is the big bad girl scared?”

One of his hands found its way to one of your tits, palming the soft mound over your bikini. His dick jolted as you let out a soft moan, and he laughed at how well everything was going. He never thought of you as the kind of girl that would just lay there while he, Rafe Cameron of all people, touched you like this. If he knew this, he would’ve had his way with you years ago.

Years ago. He almost wanted to hit himself from how stupid younger Rafe had been.

He took your mouth in his, smiling into the kiss as you kissed him back, hands on his shoulders pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. Rafe took that opportunity to get himself comfortable in between your thighs, moaning as his erection grazed against your core.

He had to get you naked.

“No, Rafe, we can’t… we should stop,” you mumbled against his lips.

But the blond didn’t stop kissing you, going from your lips to sucking at the skin of your neck as his hand wandered past the waistline of your shorts. You smelled so fucking good, and your skin was so damn soft he wanted nothing more than press himself against you as he fucked you hard and deep.

“Give me a good reason to,” he drawled in your ear as his fingers found your hot core.

You gasped as he pressed against you, and he couldn’t help but notice how your nails gripped his shoulders and your back arched at his ministrations. He rolled his hips against yours, smiling at your sudden lack of words. You wanted this as much as he did, no point in hiding that from him now. Not when he could feel how wet you were under the fabric of your bikini, not when your thighs shook, and your chest heaved like you couldn’t wait to have him inside you.

In one swift move, he sat back with his legs folded under him, pulling you with him in the process. You gasped as he sat you in his lap, legs on either side of his hips.

Whatever you were about to say got lost when he kissed you with the ferocity of a man that wasn’t about to let anything stop him from getting what he wanted. Even if that someone was you. He was going to fuck you tonight; of that he was sure.

“Be a good girl for me and relax,” he said as he slid the straps of your bikini down your shoulders, finally exposing your breasts.

Rafe nearly groaned as he finally got sight of them, big and soft and warm under his palm. He wasted no time in popping a nipple into his mouth, moaning as the bud hardened under his tongue. You yelped and put your arms around his head, caging him against your chest as you arched it against his face.

Good, he thought with a nib to your flesh, I could suck on these for days.

The hand that wasn’t busy kneading your other breast curled around your waist, keeping you close to his body as you swayed in his hold, your soft moans filling his ears.

“Do you have any idea of what you’ve been doing to me?” he asked as he grazed his lips and tongue over both of your tits, hands going down your body to palm your ass over your shorts. “You’ve been driving me fucking insane...”

You didn’t bother acknowledging his words besides a soft hum. He glanced up at you, biting his lip at the sight of your heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips. Everything in you was screaming at him to take you, fuck you so hard everyone in this house would hear you scream his name, pump you so full of his cum that you would have to leave this room with it dripping down your thighs like the whore you were. His whore.

After tonight, you belonged to Rafe Cameron, whether you wanted it or not.

You yelped in surprise as he pushed you back on the mattress, staring at him like you had just woken up from a dream. Rafe admired your tits bounce for a moment before focusing on unzipping your shorts, pulling them down your legs with no hesitation before hooking his fingers on the elastic of your bottoms and giving it the same treatment.

He licked his lips at the sight of your pussy waiting for him in between your plush thighs, gaze darkening as he noticed how you were already glistening with arousal. His gaze went up and down your naked body several times, drinking in your curves and rolls, beyond turned on by the vision that was you naked and blushing under him.

“Soaking wet for me, aren’t you?”

He touched your clit then, smirking at the gasp you let out as his fingers went up and down your slit before pushing two digits inside. He groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. You were so wet he had no doubt he would be able to sink fully into you in one swift thrust.

With that in mind, he pushed away to get himself undressed, sighing in relief as his hard cock broke free from the confinements of his underwear. He was quick on going back to his place on top of you, spreading your legs open as he lined up with your core.

He was pressed against you – the tip of his cock wet with your arousal and lips on the curve of your neck as he readied himself to take you – when you slapped his shoulder hard enough to break him out of his lusty state.

“What?” he asked, starting to get annoyed by your constant interruption. “You’re regretting it now?”

“No,” you said before surprising him by pushing him onto the mattress and straddling his hips. “I just like to be on top.”

When you sank down onto him, your velvety walls squeezing his dick, he could swear he saw stars. Rafe gripped your hips as you started bouncing up and down his length, eyes locked on yours as he forced you down on him in sync with your movements.

“How many times have you touched yourself while thinking of me?” he asked, smirking at the look you sent him.

“I could ask you the same–”

You moaned as he slapped your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh only making you clench tighter around him. He was living the dream, buried deep inside you as your tits bounced in his face, your fucked up expression making something akin to male pride swell in his chest. You were enjoying having his dick inside you as much as he was.

His hands roamed your body as you fucked him, head thrown back in continuous moans and body shivering in pleasure as he started rubbing circles on your clit.

“Oh my god, don’t stop,” you moaned as you leaned over to support yourself on his chest.

Your moans and whimpers were like music to his ears, and he quickly realized he wouldn’t get tired of fucking you so soon; not when you looked and sounded like that while dripping down his cock.

He wanted more.

In one swift movement, he turned your body around, pushing you back on the mattress before grabbing your legs by the back of your knees and folding you in half. This was how he wanted you; on your back with your legs spread and ready to get fucked senseless.

“Oh fuck!” you moaned with a high-pitched scream as he sank back into you, filling you up to the brim.

The sound of his hips hitting the back of your thighs filled the room, mixing with your moans and whimpers as he fucked you at a ruthless pace, forcing your body up the mattress with every hard thrust. Your eyes were closed, and your head was thrown back, giving him full access to your neck as he lapped and nibbed all over your pulse and collarbone, enjoying your scent mixed with his.

“You take my dick so well,” he whispered in your ear, his words followed by a deep thrust that made you yelp his name. “Yeah, just like that, scream my name. Let everyone know who’s fucking you this good.”

He could feel your pussy clench around him like a vice at his words, sucking him in like you didn’t want to let him go.

“R-Rafe, don’t stop please, I’m so close.”

He obeyed your request, dying to see you unravel beneath him. Rafe didn’t stop fucking you even as you came, your legs shaking and pussy fluttering around him as you let out a muffled sob. It was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He wanted to make you come like that again.

You moaned when he pulled out, eyes opening to glance at him with a question on your lips before he surprised you by twisting your hips to the side.

“Get on all fours,” he ordered. “Ass up.”

“You’re way too bossy for your own good,” you mumbled, abiding by his order all the same.

He chuckled at your words with a loud slap to your ass, grabbing his glistening erection before pushing again inside your dripping folds. You both moaned in unison as he entered you, hands keeping your hips in place as he settled on a rhythm.

Fucking you in this position – ass jiggling as he filled you up and hand gripping your hair, completely at his mercy – made him almost slap himself from how stupid he had been in the past. He wasted all this time looking down on you only to now wish he had been fucking you from day one.

“I should’ve fucked you back in high school,” he growled in your ear as he pressed his chest to your back.

“Like I would’ve let you.”

“You’re letting me fuck you now, aren’t you? On all fours, taking my dick like the good little slut that you are.”

“Oh, shut up asshole. Just come already.”

Rafe chuckled at that, grabbing your chin and turning your face to him before giving you a rough kiss, teeth clashing and pulling at your lip before he promised you, “Keep talking like that and I might just put that smart mouth to good use.”

You laughed then, a moan quickly wiping the smirk off your face as Rafe started touching your clit again, fingers expertly touching you just as he figured out you liked it.

“Come around my cock one more time, baby,” he purred as he sped up his thrusts, his movements shallower as he felt himself near the edge. “Come around me before I stuff you full of my cum.”

“Come inside me and you’re dead.”

Rafe laughed, not at all threatened by your words. Nothing was stopping him from coming inside you, consequences be dammed. You would leave this room with something to remember him by.

He came undone as you orgasmed a second time, firmly holding you by the hips as he came inside you as deep as he could, set on riding both your orgasms for as long as he could.

You both lay on the bed when he was done, a mess of tangled and sweaty limbs as Rafe refused to pull out and drag himself away from you.

“Can you get off of me?” you mumbled after a moment of nothing but panting.

Rafe took a deep breath, not saying anything as he savored your body pressed comfortably against his, soft skin warm and damp like his own. He wanted to prolong the moment, knowing damn well that you would go back to despise him as soon as he pulled out of you. He didn’t want to admit it, but he would rather not go back to how things were, no matter how entertaining the beef you had going on was.

“Rafe…”

He sighed and pulled out without a word, sitting back against the headboard as he watched you stand up and start looking around for your clothes, giving him a nice view of your ass as you leaned over to grab your discarded bikini and shorts.

That familiar tension sat between you in the heavy air as you got dressed without any words shared between you. In the meanwhile, Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off of you, waiting for your next move.

No way he would let you leave as if nothing had happened.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked after he was fully dressed, watching as you texted someone on your phone.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because this was not supposed to happen,” you said with a shrug. “And it’s definitely not happening again.”

He held your gaze for a moment, taking a step in your direction as you made a move to leave.

“Oh yeah?” he said as he tilted your chin up. “Says who?”

“I do,” you said, batting his hand away before walking past him and opening the door. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

Rafe wasn’t an inflexible man; if you wanted to leave, he would let you. But if there was something he was, was stubborn. For tonight he would leave you be, but he couldn’t promise that tomorrow – or every day after that – would be met with the same leniency.

You would be his, and that wasn’t up for discussion.

«»«»«»«»

Part 2 ->

[eightlightstar]

Fortune

word count: 800 (exactly) warnings: corny, extreme attempts to mention every single svt title track genre: fluff, drunken confession (but by seungkwan), getting-together

"Good fortune", answered Mingyu, as he looked directly into your eyes. You flushed a deep red and were about to divert the attention away from you when a loud groan startled you.

"Isn't this as good as a confession?" slurred Seungkwan, clearly drunk and filter-less.

"Seungkwan-ah, shut up!" hissed Jeonghan, but he wouldn't relent.

"Y/n, I need to get this off my chest today or my head will explode!" he screamed into your face.

"Wh-what is this about?" you asked hesitantly.

"Y/n don't believe a word he says," pleaded Mingyu and made sure to include those puppy eyes, which were always like a sucker-punch to your gut.

"He loves you Y/n! Mingyu fucking adores you! He thinks you're the prettiest person he's ever seen and the first time you approached him, he did a wholeass cheerleading routine while screaming how happy he was!! It was all very nice but after befriending you, he was like "My heart goes boomboom as soon as I lay my eyes on her oh my what do I do!!" And he said this every single day!

Mingyu had leaped across the table in an attempt to cover Seungkwan's mouth, but you were quicker in getting both yourself and Seungkwan out of the way just in time.

"Y/n??" Mingyu asked in disbelief as he dusted himself off and got up from the ground.

"Nooo! I wanna hear moree!" you squeaked and Seungkwan launched into yet another monologue.

"When he heard you had a boyfriend, we asked him to cry it out and forget about you, but he was like "I don't wanna cry and I don't want to forget her!".

Seokmin chimed in this time, "You might remember this. That time your boyfriend didn't come to watch your solo dance performance and you were sad? And Mingyu had clapped and screamed the loudest despite it being a little too silent in the auditorium?"

"Oh yeah! I thanked him but then he froze up and ran away! I wondered if he had a fear of talking to girls or something lol", you supplied.

"Y/n…", Mingyu whined and weakly hit your shoulder. You flashed him a smile and gestured to Seungkwan and Seokmin to continue.

"And then when he scored that home run during the finals, he kept looking left and right to see if you were in the stands and watching him. But to his shock and surprise, there you were on the ground, head cheerleader and cheering for him the loudest! Boy was ready to love you from that moment!" said Seokmin while patting Mingyu's head.

"Oh! I have a confession about this", you said shyly. "I actually applied to be a cheerleader to cheer for Mingyu from the field rather than from the bleachers. It was a stroke of luck that I became head cheerleader and got to go onto the field with Mingyu, the baseball captain" you said and covered your face with your hands.

"F*ck my life why didn't I know this?" shrieked your friend Jennifer from the corner.

"Anyway, after that, he wrote a song called "Rock With You" and sang it at the college festival where he was sure you understood that the song was definitely for you. Had you?", asked Seungkwan accusatorily.

"Of course I did! I didn't know he could write songs and stuff and he looked so hot with that electric guitar so yeah, I got it, thank you very much", you claimed haughtily.

Mingyu snickered and came closer to you and casually put a hand around your shoulder.

"Even I didn't know I could do that until I decided it was about my feelings for you and it just flowed from there. I should really thank the god of music for putting that song into my brain and composing the melody through me like a super maestro", Mingyu said to you as your friends made gagging noises.

"Anyway," tried saying Seungkwan, when Mingyu interrupted him.

"I'll take it from here thanks," he said and turned to you.

"I really do adore you as you must already know from these anecdotes. And I want to show you exactly how much because I think of you as my whole world. I want my days to begin with you and my nights to end with you. So, will you please do me the honour of becoming my girlfriend Y/n?"

"I feel the same about you Mingyu. And I don't think I can speak beautiful words like you do so I hope this is enough to convey what I have to say", you say and move to kiss him.

As he reciprocates your loving kiss with a fervour he had never felt before, Mingyu muses to himself, 'Now this is what I call good fortune'.

[stanfordsweater]

what are your favorite wincest episodes

hehehe

in chronological order rather than in order of preference:

dead in the water -- i really latched on to this one as a kid and so it still holds a big piece of my heart. i love the slow aching reveal of how traumatized dean is, all with sam right there watching. i will always be preoccupied with the times where dean get peeled back and exposed all vulnerable

what is and what should never be -- another great vulnerable dean episode, i loved the insight we get into his thoughts on sam, more specifically how clear it is that his self-hatred clouds his understanding of sam's motivations and why he sticks around with dean beyond "the job." it helps that sam looks so unbearably sexy in dean's perfect world created from his most desperate desires and deepest insecurities. i want to connect this one with DSOTM, but that ep didn't make the list because season five is PAINFUL and i hate watching it 😭

metamorphosis -- kind of out of left field, but this episode is a great example of how their relationship is breaking down in season four. dean punching sam and sam just taking it and keeping his chin up is such a gut-punch + sam's reaction to the reveal that they angels are watching out for him, for all the worst reasons, while dean is getting closer to them himself... you also get sam's desperation to save dean, to be something good, and his despair and teeth-grinding resolve to stop using into his powers... which only lasts so long. TENSION. delicious.

swan song -- AGONY.

i love so much about carver era, but to whittle it down:

there's a lot of aspects i love about season 8 spread across a number of episodes, like the way dean is just freaking out and trying to protect sam in the great escapist, the tension cas and more immediately benny brings to their relationship, the attempts to reconnect and the feeling that they might actually work through it this time, even with all the jealousy, but every time you think they're about to work it out something else gets worse-- it's really fun. i don't think any individual episode makes this list but they all get honourable mention.

i think i'm gonna like it here & road trip -- double feature because of the way dean's decision comes home to roost. dean's absolute despair in 9x01, it's SO wild and hurts my heart, the way you can understand exactly how they've ended up here, the betrayal, dean's guilt but the lack of apologies, sam's righteous anger and his deep-down buried soul-rending shame... i want to drink it all up with a straw, i'm obsessed. sam is in fine fucking form in road trip. he's NOT BUDGING and it's so good. also he looks fine as fuck and you know dean is burning inside. all of it leading directly to my favourite death scene in the entire show at the end of season nine. fabulous.

safe house -- this one is just a fun reprieve from all the angst of the seasons before, where sam and dean are working a case and making fun of each other and spending hours across from each other in a motel room at a table too small for them and not getting sick of each other. there's also the end scene where sam is so pleased that dean was haunted by visions of him dead <3 affirmations with the winchester brothers!

carry on -- i know many finale haters and i understand their points, but i was so shocked that the show remembered what it was about and delivered us that beautiful monologue and the forehead touch and the heaven reunion, all wrapped up in sam finally having the life he had wanted in a way he would hate. it's poetic and it finally resolves that last lingering question that allows him to actually enjoy heaven, and the final piece dean needs to not feel like a monster for "failing" to provide sam with the apple-pie life. jared has this interview from season eight where he says that sam carries that resentment over being dragged back into hunting with him, and while it's not rational-- ultimately he was not dragged, he made his choice in an impossible situation, manipulated by outside forces-- i really loved that the finale actually gave us (and dean) absolution for this last desire of sam's. i don't know.

[looneyleyle]

the movie of us ~ t. owens

synopsis: as any good tragedy goes, the highs are high, and the lows are low. at least as a hopeless romantic, georgia can romanticize the gut-wrenching tragedy that is her rocky relationship with tornado wrangler tyler owens.

warnings: angsty, can you tell i've been hurt by a boy recently?, potentially toxic tyler depending on how you read it, me not being from the south so prolly not very accurate lingo and such, written in a two hour long spiral of sadness and romanticism (aka unedited)

word count: 1424 words

third person pov

hey darlin, looks like i'm not gonna be able to make it tonight :( big cell forming north of el reno

georgia stared down at her phone for a few minutes, disappointed but not surprised. the restaurant around her buzzed with life and excitement, but she was anything but that. the waitress had been checking in on her every fifteen or so minutes, her expression grimmer with each passing round.

on the waitress's fifth round of checking in on her tables, georgia waved her over, asking for the bill with a hollow smile. the waitress nodded, a sickly sympathetic look on her face. georgia all but rolled her eyes, not needing a stranger's pity. she paid the bill and left immediately, wanting to get away from all of the people and the waitress's prying eyes.

and funnily enough, georgia almost couldn't bring herself to feel sad. it was hard to even muster up a few tears, although not impossible. the only thing that could describe her feelings, plain and simply, was numbness. numb to the countless times she had been blown off by him, numb to the ever growing list of dates she had been stood up, numb to everything that had to do with that goddamn tornado chaser.

when she got home, she made her way towards the bay window in the living room, not wanting to go to bed just yet, unable to feel tired as her feelings sat heavy on her chest. her knees instinctively curled to her chest, imitating the pose she found herself in all too often since crossing paths with the handsome self-proclaimed tornado wrangler tyler no-good owens a year and a half ago. she turned on the stereo and set it to a low volume, not wanting to wake up her parents. rain pelted against the window in sporadic thunks, but the sounds were drowned out by a familiar song on the radio. her chest squeezed as she listened, humming along while watching the storm brew outside, a reflection of the anguish brewing inside of her.

the moment played out in her head like a movie, a bluish tint over the film to aid in setting the dreary mood, the camera of her mind focusing in on the few tears that managed to escape her eyes, her longing look out the window panning out and off into the world, transitioning into whatever tyler was doing. was he asleep? was he out and about with his crew? was he at some bar, not a thought of her in his head? the scene continued to change in her mind, each as unsettling as the previous thought, until she drifted into a restless sleep.

after a couple of days, georgia ignored tyler's texts, deciding that he had run out of second chances. she was done with him for good.

as she came home from grocery shopping one clear, sunny day, tyler was there, looking out at the garden her mother tended to, a few flowers of his own in his hands.

georgia tried to resist him, she really did. she wanted nothing more than to deliver a swift punch to his annoyingly perfect face.

"hey darlin, i missed you." he said, opening his arms wide. she fought every nerve, muscle, and whim in her body from running up and jumping into his strong arms. she had a point to prove to him.

but his eyes didn't hold even a hint of malice or manipulation in them. tyler was a simple guy, georgia could easily chalk up his flakiness and absence to his passion for his job. it was as if he didn't even realize that he had done something wrong, and how could she be mad at him for something he didn't even mean to do? it was as if they haven't been apart for the past two months, date upon date cancelled, with georgia spending her nights in bed, soundless sobs escaping her as she wondered what she could do to make it work, to make them work.

no, in that moment, it was as if it were only yesterday that he was there, in her house, having dinner with her parents, before sneaking out to go dance with her at the town bar into the late late hours of the night.

and so, that night, long after the plates have been washed, her parents already tucked away in bed, tyler whisked her away in his truck, heading towards an open field away from town, the sky clear as ever.

and in that moment, the wind whipping throughout his big red truck on that warm oklahoma night, georgia felt like she was floating through the air. because she was here, with tyler, the same gleeful look gracing both of their faces.

the movie pieced itself back together in her mind, an upbeat love song playing in the back as their laughs surpassed the roar of his truck. all previous transgressions against her on his behalf were forgotten in this moment of pure, unfiltered glee. a moment in which the actors went off script, genuinely happy and feeding on each others' energy.

he stopped the truck, jogging out of it and opening her door for her, leading her into his truck bed. he grabbed a few blankets from the backseat, putting them down to make it a bit more comfortable for them. he then hopped up next to her, wrapping the blanket and himself around her as they looked up at the clear night sky, talking about whatever popped up into their hyperactive minds. it was as if they were each other's own personal drug, dopey smiles never leaving their faces, hearts thumping rapidly together as one.

and the next day, she woke up at some ungodly hour to tyler hopping out of bed, putting on his clothes and gathering up his belongings.

"you're not leaving again, are you?" she asked, not able to mask the pain in her tone. he looked over at her and gave her what she assumed he thought was a sympathetic smile, reassuring her that he would be back by sundown, that boone had found the makings of a perfect storm about an hour west of them.

georgia pulled the covers closer to her bare body, chilled not by the air, but by the emptiness surrounding her as tyler pressed a chaste kiss to her head, already one foot out of the door.

as it approached dinner time, she made one of tyler's favorites, pouring out a glass of iced tea for everyone and setting the table.

the six o'clock hour passed, and she told her parents to go ahead and eat, not wanting them to get hungry.

the seven o'clock hour passed, and she covered up her and tyler's food, not wanting it to get cold.

the eight o'clock hour passed, and with it, the sun fell below the horizon. the ice in her iced tea was long melted, and tyler was, as always, nowhere to be seen.

the nine o'clock hour passed, and georgia found that she was no longer hungry. it was almost as if she could see the hours pass by in a movie montage, everything moving around her, but her staying perfectly still in her chair, waiting in sorrowful desperation for her absent love interest.

the ten o'clock hour passed, and she put everything away in the fridge and did the dishes, getting ready for bed.

only when the clock on her bedside reached 11:18 did tyler text her.

got caught up in the storm, it was perfect! twin ef3's, can you believe it?? the crew had to stop at a motel in weatherford, i'll head back tomorrow morning, sleep well darlin

and just like a fool, she believed him, falling asleep while making plans for what her and tyler would do the coming day.

and she waited and waited and waited, realization seeping in around mid afternoon that tyler wasn't coming. he never was.

and for once, she took a page out of tyler's book. she packed up her bags and followed the wind wherever it took her, not looking back once.

so after a week or so of no responses from georgia, tyler returned to georgia's house, only to find her truck gone and her mother in the doorway, a disapproving shake of her head as she headed back inside.

and with that, the movie of tyler and georgia ended, the final frame focused on tyler's fallen face, finally realizing, after all this time, that he fucked up irreparably.

[echo-bleu]

End of the Year Fic Recs

thank you @thescrapwitch and @sallysavestheday for tagging me!

This is a wonderful game, I love reccing fics and I should do it more. I'll keep it all Silmarillion for the recs, since that's the bulk of what I've read this year. I haven't had the spoon to leave proper comments on some of these, so hopefully reccing them can count too?

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

- The Harrowing by @chthonion. I am forever in awe of this whole series and of Chthonion's writing. Somehow every single sentence is relatable and at least half of them are a punch in the gut, but in a healing way. A delightful Frodo, Celebrimbor and Finrod working through their trauma and Annatar, remade as an elf, learning how to be a good person (and a person at all, really).

- we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin. Truly delightful 70s AU as narrated by 8 year old Elrond, who just makes my heart melt in every chapter. Maedhros and Maglor as traumatized foster parents doing their best, the twins with their antics and their fears and joys, it's such a breath of fresh air and I can't get enough of it.

- Hanged Man by @tethysresort. Second age fic about the fall of Eregion and the start of Imladris with so much interesting worldbuilding and plot, and characterization of Elrond and Glorfindel especially that I really loved.

- Everlasting Song by @amethysttribble. This is perhaps a little more niche, a crossover with A Song of Ice and Fire, but I'm not an ASOIAF fan at all and I have like two whole memories of the books and I'm still finding absolutely delightful. Top-notch characterization of the Fëanorians, and it really keeps you on your toes.

- Aurë entuluva by @theheirofashandfire. Just very recently caught up with it and I love it to bits! The time loop is all kinds of angsty and breathtaking, and I really love the world that is being constructed afterwards. Wonderful Russingon, and I'm also, especially, in love with her Curufin and Celegorm.

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

- Wayward Son by @thescrapwitch. Angst exactly like I like it. Fëanor and Maglor, and it will make you cry. @thescrapwitch writes Maglor just wonderfully and I really love this Fëanor that will do absolutely anything for his son.

- On the difference between hostages and sons by leodesic (and the rest of the series as well). Absolutely delightful Elrond and Elros, as seen by Gil-galad when they first come to his court. I love Elrond defying expectation, and this was such a wonderful read.

- the world to come by arriviste. Arda Remade, told through the shadows and the gaps of what's missing. It's eerie, and I love a well-written eerie fic that leaves you feeling a little off-balance. Wonderful reflection on the price of perfection.

- Sea-Bells and Sunlight by @actual-bill-potts. Finrod, Lúthien and Beren in Mandos. This broke my heart in the best way.

- in the breaking by @thelordofgifs. Short but terribly impactful study of Maedhros and Maglor before the end, one of the best I've read of them.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

- A Farewell to Arms by MorwenSteelsheen (LOTR, Farawyn). Such a wonderful characterization and development of Faramir and Éowyn's relationship in a slight canon divergence where Éowyn arrives in Gondor two years before the end of the war of the Ring.

- The Splintered Light by @thearrogantemu. The whole series. These Gifts That You Have Given Me (Silvergifting) is well-known in the fandom, I think, and I absolutely loved it, but the other fics set in the Fourth Age were among the first I read in this fandom that I just fell straight in love with.

- The Host of the West by @mynameisjessejk. Various fics of the Otter Mayhem and Otterless Mayhem series could have gone into every category here because I love them all, but this is the one I chose because I reread it yesterday for the fourth (fifth?) time and it still had me bawling my eyes out. Probably my favourite Finrod, and definitely an inspiration for my own writing. The whole series is about healing and redemption and elf therapy and all of it is delightful.

- The Peril (and Potential) of Unleashing Lightning in a Fishbowl by @dawnfelagund. This one took everything I thought I knew about Caranthir, threw it out the window and gave me a truly brilliant characterization I didn't know I needed in my life. The worldbuilding is also delightful, and so is Amarië.

- Aranya by SpaceWall. I read this recently and it's really staying with me. Some people in my asks have expressed interest in fics that take the Valar to account for their mistakes, and this is a wonderful one. With a bonus revolution. I really love the non-linear storytelling as well, a hard-to-use tool that is done wonderfully here. Plus the title is inspired.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

- your veins are empty of dust. Character study of Nerdanel as feels her family die across the sea, and she sculpts. This is also the fic for which I made the art I'm probably the proudest of to date.

- your smile tells me I'm safe. Modern AU with aro Maedhros and a Russingon QPR.

- silver. Míriel, Celegorm and Celebrimbor, and living with chronic illness.

- the light that you keep burning there. Part of a much larger AU where the second and third kinslayings don't happen, but this one is about Maedhros, Maglor and Fingon in the later years, as the world crumbles, trying to remember what (who) they're fighting for.

- if I am to braid my mystic crown. The Silmarillion retold through worldbuilding headcanons about braids.

Tagging @unforth @foodsies4me @wren-of-the-woods @camille-lachenille (I don't know who has already done it, so feel free to send me a link if you have!)

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Love Like Ghosts (Lord Huron)

I don't feel it till it hurts sometimes/Oh, go on baby, hurt me tonight/I want ours to be an endless song/Baby, in my eyes, you do no wrong/I don't feel it till it hurts sometimes/So go on, baby, hurt me tonight/All the spirits that I know I saw/Do you see no ghost in me at all?

"The use of ghosts as a metaphor for ghosts is just. so good. The idea of being haunted by your pasts love/seeing yourself as a ghost because of love is such a fascinating idea like?? Referring to the concept of love with "what ain't living can never really die" is really interesting because the love was "never living" meaning....that the love wasn't real? that the love was one sided? that they were never in love at all? it could mean a thousand different things and the entire song is skewed from the perspective of the narrator. The character narrator's of LH songs are....notoriously unreliable to put it lightly, and this one could be viewed in the same way. The narrator is adamant that the person they're singing to doesn't truly love them, but doesn't want them to leave her, but we have no way to know that for certain. She implies that the person is lying to her and doesn't truly want her with the line "You don't want me baby, please don't lie" but again, we don't know if thats true. It leaves this song is such a weird state of leaving the listener guessing and walking away with their own meaning of the song."

Against The Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)

And I swear! I will die trying!/I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress; I promise I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear!/I'm so fucking sorry! I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all!

Less rare than scarce, less diamond then rough/Unlikely to be more than just the coal you failed to crush

I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"/I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor/Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

The vertex of my redemption arc/I’m searching on that virgin heart

"The raw emotion! And I strongly relate to desperately wanting to improve for someone you love. I belt out this song when I feel really hopeless"

"my one OC. also me. also it's just a really good song. one of will's best imo. screaminbg"

"Literally hits almost all of my self-esteem issues. Feeling like people only care about you for your body? Check. Not understanding why anyone would want you? Check. Thinking that all you do is hurt people? Check. I don't cry very often but this song DEFINITELY made me teary"

"one of those if u aren’t paying attention to the lyrics ur like this is nice but once u hear them its an OW holy OW and guilt and I’m sorry feelings"

"Just. Loving someone but not feeling like you’re good enough and trying to improve."

"Not only does this song have lyrics that are deeply relatable to me, but this song also feels very deeply personal to the artist and I feel that anyone who listens to it for the first time has that same feeling of getting punched in the gut. Just the lyrics and the melody and Will Wood’s incredible vocals make this song an absolute masterpiece and I cry every time I hear it."

"One reason I'm attached to this song is because my friend sent it to me and said "I'm kin assigning you this song" and ruined my life (/j) It messed me up because I've always had a hard time in my life figuring myself out and dealing with my emotions, and for what feels like the first time, this song has been able to near perfectly describe how I feel about myself and my impact on other people, and it always just meant so much to me that my friend who sent it to me knows me better than I know myself and shared the song with me and I love them dearly."

Love Like Ghosts submitted by @danidoesathing

Against the Kitchen Floor submitted by @pixopolis + others

[stcrgazings]

like a tatoo pt2?

two ghosts ➳ (c.l)

like a tatto pt2, you can read part one here

note: hi girls it’s been a while, and this is long promised and so I decided to finish it finally today to celebrate p4 and p5 in Canada, truth to be told i struggled terribly with this one, because I didn’t really planned for like a tatto to have a pt2, i mean it was an idea but i thought people wouldn’t even like it but then everyone wanted it so yeah, I basically wrote and rewrote the whole thing about 7-8 times because I didn’t liked it, but after a thousand rewrites I’m finally happy with the outcome, i hope you enjoy it and leave it tons of notes, it doesn’t really have to do much with the song but I thought of it when writing so it only seemed fitting.

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

summary: Charles can’t stop thinking about a certain someone and manifesting without realizing it’s a powerful thing, but will he be able to fix what he broke?

warnings: angsts (lots of it) swearings, fighting, crying, two heartbroken people almost killing each other.

word count: 5.4K (longest yet in the blog)

He’s thinking of you again.

In his dying car in the middle of the track, he thinks thinks in those same red lips that flood his mind at any given minute and also that he must be the most unlucky person in the world, and that if you were here you’ll probably tell him that he’s just being his negative self and that that he’ll be alright.

But you’re not, thanks to no one but him, so he curses to himself and gets out of the car.

He thinks of you again, as he answers all types of questions to the hound of reporters that surrounds him, he imagines that it’s you that’s waiting for him in the garage, ready to hold him and kiss him and make him feel better but it’s the new girl that he’s seeing that wraps him in her arms, and he hates it because it doesn’t feel the same and her comfort isn’t half as good as yours and quite frankly just because she isn’t you.

But what he hates even more is the lonely road to the hotel, and the way your face is plastered in every single advertisement in that big city he’s in, just like in Monaco, and France and every single country in the globe, and the sour feeling that is to look at your beautiful face knowing that he’ll never have you again is as bad as getting a DNF in the first race of the season, if not worse.

The girl besides him talks and talks, hoping that maybe he’ll feel better, but he doesn’t because her long lashes look just like yours and that definitely doesn’t help him feel better at all, he feels more like being punch in the gut, repeatedly. But he doesn’t say anything and just remains kept to himself the whole ride, thinking about how you are or what you’ve been doing.

Maybe right now you’re thinking of him too.

Eventually he’s too in his head, thinking about what you would tell him in this situation he’s in, what you would do to make him feel better and forget the week if not months he’s had, he ends up sending the girl by his side away, repeating the words that once he said to you “you just wouldn’t understand baby” and watches her face drops, he feels his hearts sinks because your torturing sobs ring in his hears whilst the girl besides him leaves the room without saying goodbye.

(Just like you once did)

He knows that what he is doing is definitely not healthy at all, but he can’t really help himself, the memories of you being the only thing that keeps him a float, because he can’t really have you now, you’re no longer one call or one flight away, he’s by himself now, so reminiscing about you and your time together brings him some sense of peace.

He imagines that you would be waiting for him at his Monaco apartment, or at the airport, he wishes in silence to accidentally bump into you at the supermarket aisle once he gets back, fooling no one but himself, knowing none of those things will be happening when he gets home.

He used to think that racing with be enough, that if he just went day by day by the time season started he would be able to get ahold of himself, and then a competitive car would just do the rest but looking at the car he has right now that doesn’t even look like an option.

It’s like it was one step forward, thinking of last year, how he could’ve had it all, the championship and the girl and everything he could ever wanted, but now a long year later he knows its really three steps back, because he doesn’t have anything in the championship, as not one point adds up in his standings and he definitely doesn’t have the girl, doesn’t have you.

He opens his phone searching up your name, something he does religiously every night, to check on you without actually doing it, to tell himself that you’re okay, that you’re happy, and better off without him, the urge to text you or call you is always there, itching on the tip of his fingers, but it never wins, even though he truly does want it to, so he can tell you that he misses you, and that he’s sorry, and that he can’t live without even though he has tried with everything he has in him.

But he doesn’t, he never does, he just scrolls through his phone, reading about how you were in Italy a few days back, in Rome, for a fashion show or something liked that, and then feels his heart drop like he does every time he reads about you, this time he stares at the pictures of you exiting a club clearly wasted with an Argentinian soccer player, called Dybala or something liked that, by your side with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist and your face was deeply into his neck.

He sighs and throws his phone to the other side of the bed with something that feels like sadness, anger and jealousy all together and decides that’s enough you for the night.

He knows he has no right to feel anything involving you, because he was the one that screwed up, he was the one that had broken up with you and essentially ended things but he still did because he missed you and was still completely in love with you; He would even say haunted by you, his heart still skipping a beat every time someone mentioned you, his mind was constantly flooded with everything that involved you, he still thought about you when he saw tulips because they were your favorite flower, and every time he sees a sunset he can almost picture you with your phone in hand taking a picture and when he listens to Taylor Swift you’re all that comes to mind, even though he probably didn’t know what your favorite song was anymore since it was always changing from time to time.

He thought way too often about the fact that you probably didn’t think of him anymore when you heard lover and probably all too well was the one to go now that it came to him.

Everyone told him that it would get better eventually, but every day it felt like it was actually getting worse because in every living breathing moment of every hour of every day he just wanted to be with you, to be worthy of your love, to be like you both used to be before things had gotten bad, before he became a douche and didn’t realize it, before he pushed away and damaged things beyond repair.

Maybe in another universe he did everything right.

You’re both 20 years old and nothing bad has ever happened to you.

In another universe everything went well, and he won the championship with Ferrari, and you’re sitting on his lap giggling in his neck whilst in the beach in his yacht.

In another universe he’s the bigger person and doesn’t open your contact info just to see your profile picture.

In another universe he does get over you and everything gets better.

But there isn’t another universe so his fingers ghost over your phone number as he wants to call you, but then decides that a text wouldn’t hurt anyone since you probably have him blocked like in any other social media and wouldn’t get it anyway.

So he types an “i miss you” and then presses the send button, with his hands shaking and his heart in his throat, somehow the “I hope that you’re ok” that he types after hurts him even more as he sends it.

He knows he’ll get no answer, like he said before, you have him blocked everywhere, and he wants to say he wrote that just to vent all of the feelings from the past few weeks, but a teeny tiny part of him still wishes for you to read them, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re just as miserable as he is right now.

But that doesn’t change how mortified he becomes as the word delivered appeared on his screen, his heart dropping from his throat to his stomach.

Well fuck.

(…)

I miss you.

You’ve always been an glass half empty type of girl and you’ve never even know why, you’ve always been negative except with everything that involved Charles.

But that doesn’t change how decompose you are after getting that text, silent tears stream down your face as you made your way out of the busy club, feeling like the air inside it was being slowly stripped away from you, your lungs failing to do their job as you felt like breathing was to much of a task.

I hope that you’re ok.

It knocks the air out of you, and before you know it you’re emptying your insides in the sidewalk in the back of the club, and you’re sweating and you feel like you’re about to pass out.

I miss you.

Everything is a blur, you feel your own bodyguards hand around your arm as they get you in the car, your friend behind you.

“You’re okay miss?” The question rings in your ears and you want to answer no but your voice doesn’t seem to come out, so you just move your head from side to side signaling a clear “no.”

From then on the voices feel distorted, worrying looks surrounding you, you feel your friends hands all over your face, her left hand firm on your chin as she took one good look at you, staring deep into your very drunk and disoriented eyes.

“I think she’s intoxicated”

I hope that you’re ok.

You are basically pass out in the back seat of the black Range Rover in, head pressed in your friends lap as she blows air on your face, there’s discussion in the front seat, something about taking you to a hospital, they tell you not to fall asleep, but you can’t really help your closing eyes, and so as everything turns into black you think that this whole thing is unfair, and that he doesn’t have a right to miss you after every he did but a drunk mumble comes out of you anyways.

“He needs to know that I miss him too” is the last thing that leaves you in a dry and tired whisper as your consciousness is lost in the back seat of the car.

(…)

“I fucking hate Balmain” you muster as you fix your hair in the bathroom, still a little drunk, definitely a lot hangover, your head pounding so much it felt like it was going to burst.

You were currently in an event, a Balmain one in case it wasn’t clear, a tiny skirt adorned your legs with a white top from the brand that squeezed you in all the right places, your hair was curly and down, the high ponytail that you’ve worn for the past months gone, since just a few hour ago you told your stylist that anymore pressure in your head would make you puke.

To say that you would rather be anywhere else than in this 20ft yacht was an understatement

but your manager had almost dragged you here in an attempt to do some damage control because of the show you just pulled last night.

So you smile and nod and chat politely with everyone that comes close, and you giggle and flirt with the Argentinian soccer player in front of you, allowing his roaming hands just above of the curve of your ass and into the naked back of your dress, laughing playfully.

And when Paulo Dybala leaves you, you do tell him that you might be free later that night.

You take another sip of champagne when all of the sudden you feel a heavy stare just at the back of your neck, a shiver running down your spine and you would know that feeling everywhere because it’s what you’ve been missing all this time.

Charles fucking Leclerc, your ex, and the one you might consider the love of your life, it’s in the same enclosed space that you are right now, and not any enclosed space but in a stupid yacht that is kilometers away from mainland, kilometers away from any scape from him.

But of course that doesn’t stop you from finding the closest emergency exit from the room, and feeling him behind you before you even start running to the outside of the boat, the bow you think that it’s called, but it’s the last thing you think about as you basically jump stairs down.

“Y/n wait!” He calls out for you and your name from his mouth sounds just as you remember and it breaks you down almost completely.

“Get away from me Charles!” You shout at him, grabbing your dress and waking as fast as your heels allow you to, because you don’t want to see him and let alone hear whatever it is he has to say.

“y/n, please listen” he grabs you by the wrist before you can separate from him even further, you didn’t even know where you were going considering you were trap in a yacht in the middle of the sea but it was definitely away from him.

“There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear Charles, please let me go” you turn around to see him, to finally catch a glimpse of him, a good look into him at the person you used to love the most, and the moment you are met with does same eyes green you’ve thought about everyday since he left you, you feel yourself tremble because there’s begging in his eyes desperation even, and even though you want to look away from it, you can’t.

“I can’t— I can’t keep living like this, I need you to hear me out please” he looks at you too, and god me missed you, moon dancing over your good side making you look as beautiful as ever as he pulls you a little closer to him, because he needs you, like he never needed anything before, and it breaks him, it shatters his heart into a million peace the look that you give him, because it’s filled with hurt and pain, and your eyes looks glassy and broken and he knows that it’s all because of him.

“You need—! you need me to listen!” At this point you’re past hurt, now you’re livid because how dare he and he actually looks scared when you walk towards him and you thank God that all of the guests are inside having dinner because you now think that you might kill him.

“What about what I needed Charles!?” You push him away, freeing yourself from his grab on your wrist and decide that if he wants to talk then you’ll talk.

“I needed you! And you fucking left me, I held together our relationship for months Charles, I booked the flights, I killed myself going from New York to Monaco just to see for six or seven hours because you were busy and never had the time, I waited for you up every time you came back from a race just to see your face even though you never even spoke to me because you were sad, you pushed me away, you quite literally gave up on our relationship and I need to hear you out?. Fuck off Charles” you brush your hair out of your hair, tears staining your rosy cheeks, and you want to hate him you truly do, but as you look at him you simply can’t, and that makes you even more miserable.

The whole thing makes you want to jump from the boat and drown, your head pulsing from how bad it hurts and you don’t know if it is because the only thing you have eaten in the whole day were some olives or because of the hangover or because of how infuriated you are.

“Ange I…” the nickname sends chills down your spine, Charles simply stares at you and just wants to make it all better, wants to take these whole months back, wants to stop himself from treating you the way he did when you were still together but he knows he can’t.

“Don’t call me that” you spit before he can even continue but he walks towards you to grab you again, and you don’t stop him when his hands find your arms again. “Okay but please don’t cry, I can’t stand to see you cry”

“Baby I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for all of that, and If could take it back I would, in the split of a second, I didn’t know how to value you back then and I took you for granted when I shouldn’t have, and every day since we broke up I’ve lived to regret it, I’ve been miserable since the day you left” he says and it sounds truthful, but you can’t let yourself believe him. “You didn’t look miserable when you hooked up with every other girl in Monaco, including my best friend” you shoot back. Cleaning the tears from your cheeks before he can even dare to.

“Maybe I didn’t take the best choices, that I know, but they weren’t you!”

“It’s that supposed to make me feel better?” You mock him, because you are hurt and angry, and he can’t help but groan in frustration. “Yes—! No—! I mean that, I am trying to make it better, I love you, okay? Like I’ve never loved someone before that I know, and it’s killing me, I hate seeing you like this, every time I’ve been happy it’s because I thought of you, in my car it’s you who I want singing at the songs in the radio, it’s you who I want to wake up to, it’s you who I want to come home to, it’s you, everything I’ve ever wanted, every living day, every night baby, it’s you who I come to, checking to see if you are okay, wondering how you are, if you are okay”

“Well I’m not, I’ve been miserable, fucking going insane because of how badly I’ve missed you, getting drunk every fucking weekend trying to get you out of my mind, because you are all I can think about, wearing your shirts in the bathroom floor while I can’t stop crying because of badly I want you, despite of what you did to, because even after everything I wanted to call you, to hear your voice and to tell you that I loved you, isn’t it pathetic?” You asked, because that is exactly how you’ve felt, pathetic, even now hearing him out when you know that you know better than that.

“What? No you are not pathetic baby, you could never be and I am so sorry for making feel less than how wonderful and amazing you are, I wanted to call you too, you have no idea”

“Then why didn’t you?!” You asked and that is the only thing you actually want to hear from him, because for him to call you was everything you ever wanted, for the longest time it was. “Because I convinced myself that you were better off without me, I didn’t wanted to keep hurting you”

“It’s—it’s what you are doing right now!”

You want to say something, anything really but you can’t, because the whole thing it’s to much and before things can get even worse, your body fucking betrays you and your lungs stop doing what they are supposed.

“Stop” you speak, softly for the first time since the whole conversation started, and it’s quiet and you can’t stop crying, and you want to scream and disappear because you don’t want to keep having this conversation because it hurts, it hurts so much.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He asks. Eyes glistening, fighting back the tears seeing you like this, how did you both end up here?, “I can’t breath” you muster and it’s wheezy and you don’t want him to see you like this but you can’t really stop it.

“I just want to go home!” You sob lowering your head, giving up at the whole thing, feeling like a small child who just wants her mom, dropping to the floor, Charles joining you by your side.

And it’s quiet while you sob, and cry, hands on your face and he wants to hug you but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to, but he places a hand on your thigh, tracing it up and down and it’s gentle and completely innocent while he does it, eventually you place your head in his shoulder it’s almost natural like an instinct and you feel your heart flutter when he places a soft kiss in your temple, “I can’t let you hurt me again Charles, I won’t make it.”

“I won’t” he whispers in your head, and it’s a promise, grabbing and intertwining your hand with his leaves a kiss in your knuckles and stares deep into your eyes. “I love you baby, please give me another chance.” You cry again because you want to believe him but you can’t , falling apart completely into his arms allowing him to wrap you into his embrace, tears staining his shirt, soaking him completely, his hands meeting your neck, now combing your hair through his rings and fingers.

“I didn’t deserve what you did to me” you whisper, still buried deep in this chest while he stared at you and nodded, because he knows it’s true, that you didn’t deserve everything that he did to you, he knows that he did wrong.

“I know that you didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserved any of it, that’s why I’m apologizing because I treated you so badly when all you did was being there for me, and that’s why I’m also asking you to please give me another chance so that I can prove to you that I’ll make it better, and that I’ll make it up to you for the rest of our lives, if you let me”

Part of you wants to believes him and I’m fact a part of you does, and it’s that part that crawls deep in your chest when you finally look at him, at those green eyes that you used to call home, but now are filled with tears and despair, but even then Charles still tries and smiles at you, and you can almost feel yourself crumble, because you remember the first time you ever saw him smile and thought that, that smile was the one that you wanted to see for the rest of your days, and suddenly you aren’t in the boat heartbroken and crying in his arms, but in your apartment together sitting on the counter tasting the pancakes he just made for you. You are in Monza getting so wasted that you can’t even walk so he has your high heels in hand carrying you in a bridal style back to your hotel room, you are in a simulator in Maranello sitting on his lap while he teaches you how to use it, you are by his side blasting a Taylor Swift song telling him how much you love him, you are kissing goodbye before he goes to another continent to race, you are in bed wearing his t-shirt, hugging him, crying on his arms like you are doing right now but because you saw a movie where a dog died, and you know that despite that everything that he ever did to you, you still love him.

That’s why you pull closer, both of your breaths becoming just one because of the proximity, noses touching completely while breathing heavily because neither of you pull away, Charles tugging a strand of hair behind your ear while cupping your cheek and your heart is beating just as fast as the car he drives for a living, his pupils dilated and you shouldn’t, you can’t.

But of course that he kisses you, and there’s stillness and hesitation because for a second you don’t don’t kiss him back because you are better than this and just when Charles thinks everything is lost, you kiss him back.

And his lips against yours it’s just as good as you remembered to be, and it’s soft and slow but also desperate and needy your back arching against him because the closeness is not enough, both of his hands in your back while yours are cupping his cheeks and neither of you can’t tell if you’re actually pulling or pushing away, and it’s magical and soothing and just as stomach twisting as it always was, even with your own tears mixing in the kiss, and you don’t ever want it, it to end.

So you kiss him, with all that you have whispering a breathy, “fuck.” Throwing your legs over his lap, foreheads touching while he smiles at you and you smile at him too, and it’s the happiest you’ve been in months.

“I missed this” Charles mutters softly against your lips and all you can do is nod, enjoying the gentle strokes in the naked part of your lower back still drunk in the whole thing. “I missed this too” and you kiss him back because it’s true, and the first thing you think is how were you able to survive this long with out it, without him.

You both stay there for the longest time, giggling and kissing and making up for the time lost, and it feels like before everything went to shit and you would be lying if you said that didn’t give you a shrink of hope.

You tell him about modeling, and how everything in your life work wise seems to be working out smoothly, you tell him about all the places you’ve been, and all the countries you’ve visit since you left each other, you tell him about parties and how you are kinda still drunk from last night. “Is that my fault?”, He asks shyly making you laugh softly.

“Well not really, when I got your text I was almost already pass out in the back of the club, I was just thinking about you yesterday” you confess, back against his chest, you’re both standing now against the rail of the boat. “um, I saw the race.” You say, playing with the rings in his fingers, his arms around your waist and his chin in your shoulder and you feel him sigh against you.

“You saw that huh” he mumbles in the crook of your neck, feeling the disappointment in himself in the tone of voice because you know him that well, you always have. “You know it’s not your fault, right?” You tell him, because it truly isn’t, because every time that the team fails him Charles feels like he’s the one that did.

“Doesn’t feel like it” he says pain clear in his voice. “Listen to me, Charles”, you turn around to face him, cupping his face in between his face, “I’ve been your number one hater for these past months, but please believe me when I tell you that that wasn’t your fault, even I can’t deny your talent, and if you need to believe someone, it’s me, I know you, more than Carlos, and Fred, and those reporters and engineers, I know you, and I know for a fact that you are gifted and talented, and that what happened was most definitely not your fault, okay?”

You tell him, still with your hands in his face, shaking him playfully so it enters his stubborn head while smiling jokingly.

“I believe you” he tells you, because it’s you and if there’s someone that can make him believe something it’s you, so he kisses you again, lips crashing against yours once again, loving and hungry and he wants to have you for the rest of his life.

“Soooo…” he begins again, playing with the fabric of your dress at the end of your naked back and just above the curve of your ass.

“…does this mean you’ll give me another chance?”

He drops the one million dollar question, with both your hearts still beating the fastest they can, and you’ve pictured this very exact moment a thousands times in the past few months and you’re shaking because it’s all you’ve ever wanted but even better, and fuck you love him, and his green earthshaking eyes, and his smile that’s every dentist dream, and the way that his lips feel against yours and the way his hands fit perfectly in the curve of your waist and intertwined with your hand, and you love him even when you hate him even when you just were crying because of him not even a hour ago, and is breathtakingly frustrating in the best way possible.

And so you throw your hands behind his head playing with his hair just like you always used to do, “Baby…” and you know the answer even before it can even come out of your lips.

“When we get off this boat I don’t want to see or hear from you ever again.” And it hits Charles like a brick in the face, because yes you love him, with everything that you have in you, but sometimes love isn’t enough and you know that in this point of your lives he can’t give you what you want, what you deserve even, that in the long run it’ll never work out because how could you trust him? Trust that he won’t hurt you again? After it took him almost three months to figure out that he can’t live without you? Because you’ll never look at him with the same eyes again, because you’re not who you used to be, because you are just two ghosts standing in the graveyard of your relationship, mourning what what I’ll never be again.

After that everything it’s foggy, you don’t know if it is because of how hard you’re trying to hold off the tears, because he’s crying at your feet, and it aches you, because he’s begging at you face deep into you, holding you so tightly you don’t even know how to think straight.

“Baby please don’t do this to me, please” he sobs against you, tears sliding freely through wetting your clothes completely with his now red face and you wonder if he felt this awful when he left you just a few months ago.

“If you ever loved m—“ you sob inevitably without even looking at him because you don’t think you’ll be able to take it, “if you ever loved— me like you say you did, you’ll respect my decision, it’s the least you can do for me” you say between tears and sobs before walking away and you think that it might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life.

But letting go of you it’s actually the hardest thing Charles ever done too, but at the end of the day all he ever wanted was for you to be happy, even when if it’s not with him, even when he doesn’t know what he’ll do with his life now that the smallest bit of hope that he had, was just crush right in front of him.

He loves you and he thinks that it might kill him, he thinks it’s the biggest piece of karma he’s ever gotten, because even though he’s never loved you more, you don’t want to see him again and if it’s what you want, it’s what he’ll do, because part of loving it’s letting go, right?

When you get off the boat and into your car you cry like you’ve never done before, but you know that you’ll be okay, that you’ll do everything to be so.

That you’ll even do as if you never even met Charles Leclerc because it might have been better that way, and you’ll go day by day trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat without him in your life.

THE END.

————

TAGLIST (everyone who asked for a pt2) [@ushygushybaby @beesbadger @tempo-rary-fix @honethatty12 @jollysaladprunefriend @leclerc16s @haydee5010 @taurussbabe @nmw-am @mycenterfold]

[sunshinemayhem]

"the underworld" thoughts

i love every. single. song. in this saga. here's a play by play of me being stabbed by a dagger of sorrow with the first song.

"i no longer dream; only nightmares of those who died"

remember the last time he dreamt? there was penelope and telemachus? and then they opened the bag and everyone DIED? istg even the happy dreams have resulted in overwhelming sadness.

"558 men who died under your command"

the horror. all of his guilt and crimes and mistakes placed in front of him, surrounding him. he's forced to acknowledge the thoughts that have been consuming him, that he has buried deep inside as he compartmentalized throughout the circe saga.

"why would you let the cyclops live?"

my heart. (also the way they said that was so satisfying LOL.)

"when ruthlessness is mercy"

oh- that makes it so much worse. they quoted poseidon. the reason they're dead. no wait- odysseus caused this. the god out to kill him is not wrong. what is right anymore? (okay but i love odysseus going through an existential crisis)

"i keep thinking of the infant from the night, i keep thinking of the infant from the night"

jorge sounds so DISTRESSED. i love it. he's trying to grasp onto something, anything, to absolve his guilt.

"this life is amazing, when you greet it with open arms"

i love polites. so. much. thank you for him being here. Steven has such a hopeful voice. Open Arms is how i want to live my life. there is good in this world. even if it is dead. SOB.

"that voice? it can't be."

let me go cry in a corner for a sec. can i just say i love the lyrics here? he recognizes her voice IMMEDIATELY. he's surprised, then refuses to believe it for a while, then realises he doesn't have the time, then he's gutted.

"mom?"

this was such a good choice of words. or word. no way ancient greeks said "mom". but it captures so much the way it's said? the innocence of a child, the fear of the world --he's seeking protection and love in his mother, who has died. died before he came home.

"odysseus when you come home, i'll be waiting."

but she's NOT. he hasn't come home. also i love how it's "when" not "if". she has faith in her son. she trusts him to come home. like penelope, she doesn't think he's dead. they've waited so long, and they'll keep waiting, for this man they love.

"even if you're the last thing i see, i'll be waiting"

and she knows she's going to die soon, but she wants to see her son one final time. i love awesome portrayals of moms. she's there for you in whatever way she can be. let me go shower my mom with love rn.

"i'm right here, mom. can't you see?"

AHH. EVERY SINGLE LYRIC HERE IS SO GOOD. i love concise lyrics SO MUCH. every word packs a punch. this is why even if an album is only three songs, i will never, NEVER be angry or disappointed or SAD. because everything here is gorgeous.

also this is SO SAD. because he can see her but she can't. and that was her dying wish. so near, yet so far. he can't ever embrace her again. he let down someone he loves. again.

"i took too long."

aksdfhdaksdjss. that had NO RIGHT to be so devastating.

"i'll always love you"

AWW. let me go grab some onions. i also love how jorge's mom is singing. it's beautiful.

*swallows* "bye mom"

the voice crack. he swallows down a sob. JORGE YOU'RE SO GOOD AT THIS.

"the past is always close behind."

the underworld: a summary

[jack-kellys]

racetrack in uksies!!

well guys! i did it- i finally started paying attention to the newsie i was pretty sick of for a while! and i was generously rewarded. here is some stuff i observed from josh barnett's racetrack higgins:

disclaimer: racetrack, in the script, is quite literally only noted as "RACE, a little tough guy". there is no one way to characterize him, and no features about him are universal/should be universally accepted beside what he says.

that said. this mf is a damn little tough guy!!!

his place as one of jack's main two lieutenants (the other being crutchie) is a lot more solidified in how he acts around the other boys, he certainly comes off older and more in charge

king of new york has him singing out from downstage to the audience as all the chaos (swinging from lamps...tapping...spinning and shit...) he incited occurs behind him. like it is his song this time which is cool, and makes sense- he's the last "original" (sorry davey) leader left that the newsies can look to and it shows.

his trio consists of specs, albert, and himself it looked like. sometimes finch but that's for more lighthearted moments. they all have trousers and not knickers, signifying their older age, and they frequent the aisles together. also specs is definitely some kind of leader based off of what he does in the show and his demeanor.

race and al are like...the soakers. they are picking fights or mocking fights when they are together LMAO.. at the gate when the headline goes up albert is like Right Up At It to make the delanceys rattle the bars to make him step aside (no one else does this). race and al also imitate jack socking the delanceys with crutchie's crutch, al fake punching race in the gut and race making a face lmfao. they also together circle around the delanceys when they're shoving crutchie around.

^something i've noticed every time but only now clocked as intentional: race's cap is the only one, out of everyone's, that has a ripped seam at the brim. it's frayed, it's been there a while, it's intentional as hell. this kid's a fighter, and he's literally rough around the edges. love it SO much omfg

another fun thing about this race: he. fucking. does. not. like. davey. for the entirety of act 1.

"hoi poloi" is mean. he says it at davey instead of around him to the boys at the circulation center. tbh the newsies in general give davey a sort of sus once-over when he mentions having a mother, but race is leading that charge and like... not for laughs exactly?? idk it felt like more at davey's expense.

race gets fucking pissed at "well if you look, and see brooklyn, then they're with us!" he pushes davey's chest and says either "don't be smart with me/right now." I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS. it is everything to me– it shows how short race's temper can be when he's stressed, pushing it onto davey– because davey got them all into this, didn't he? so what right does he have to make jokes right now, especially about brooklyn, whose backing would ensure that davey's idea of the strike wouldn't get all of them beat into the ground? (because. let's face it. of course race is going to blame davey and not jack.)

while davey is singing his piece of seize the day, race confers with jack, and (this staging was sooo good for woodside last night) points at les, who is standing right in the window between where race and jack are standing a ways away from the kid. like a "why the fuck did he bring the kid here". race definitely thinks that davey doesn't understand who's really at stake here, which is so.. protective<3.

king of new york is like a mini arc for them. at the top of the song, daveys still at the center table, race is there too, and like. he punches davey's arm. of which davey is literally like "ow", and then rubs at it through... half the whole song. what's funny abt him getting hit then is that he sings his lyrics pretty soon after, so it's like a literal push from race to get more involved (since they're the only two leaders left). as davey does get more involved, messing around with les and involving him w/ the rest of the boys, race warms up to him a lot more and their last time near each other, race gives him a smile and ruffles davey's hat. atta boy, if u will.

i think race's general refusal to trust davey with his boys is just so. fucking sick. race can trust him with the strike inner workings if jack does, crutchie actually is shown talking to davey a lot more than race and trusts him via that, and jack trusts him because jack refuses to leave anyone even remotely like his boys behind (and he recognizes they need someone like him if they want to succeed). the four of them r so. intimate to me.

but. what is also quite fascinating to me.

is that everything i've said so far about the lack of trust, the hot-headed nature, the protectiveness... y'all know who we usually 'assign' those traits to, right?

spot. conlon.

like this race is like.. if 92sies spot was in the musical..mixed w/ 92sies race LMFAO!! and you fuckin know what? i loved him for it. i have always loved characters like that, i think they're fun, very... greaser vibed, hard-hitting, etc. this spot is almost more ready to hit than protect, and the holding out on the strike therefore seems like manhattan/jack needs to prove himself to brooklyn vs. spot having to look after their newsies first.

anyway yes congratulations to uksies racer for making me enjoy the character again!!!

FUN FACT: earlier this week, someone was. literally on their laptop during. the fucking show. in richmond, which is p close to the stage. so during one of his exits, he went up to the person and said like "close your laptop. that's fucking disgusting." josh>