#exploring the language was so fun

[huffle-dork]

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 13: Fantasy Masks

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix 

Read Swapboys | Read Fantasy Masks | AO3 Link

Prologue | Switch | Stitched | PNPT | Septicheroes Taglist: @brokentimewatch @di-diwata  

Bro is used to falling by now, and used to landing in strange places. But this is the strangest yet. It's a wide open room, filled with boxes and trunks and racks of medieval-looking clothes. The roof above is canvas, stretched over large white support beams that curve gently. This room must be large, but his vision of it is obscured because of all the stuff around. It's cool, but not winter-cold like that world with the kids.

"Hwaet!"

That's... a word? Definitely a voice. Where did it come from?

Bro pushes himself up and looks around in confusion. The fuck is he now? ... a theater maybe? Cuz those look like costumes....

"umm.. hello??" He calls out.

As Bro stands up, one of the racks of clothing is pushed to the side and he is immediately confronted with the tip of a sword. Not a fake plastic sword. Not a metal replica found at a fair or convention. This is a heavy-looking, razor-sharp, thirty-five-inch-long knightly sword.

Bro pushes back as much as he can to get away from the- sword?? A FUCKING SWORD?? "H-Holy shit-"

It's being wielded by a man wearing a waist-length red cloak and a wolf mask... and the rest of the man's clothes are similarly medieval.

"Tshais?" the man says, eyes widening behind the mask. Then he shakes his head. "Ní he, ní é thusa é."

"Dyaki?" Another voice calls, and someone else appears. A man wearing a white tunic-thing and--and the first man covers the other's face before Bro can get a good look. "Gah! Dyaki, cadé aan saolile?!"

"Caor uir tho aghaidh," the first man says. "Níl sé dó Tshais."

The second man quickly pulls on a mask shaped like an owl. "Cadatá aer sil?"

"Níl a fhiasagim! Dheial raigh sé!"

...What the fuck is going on?

Bro can barely tell what's going on as he looks between the two men, "f-fuck I... I can't tell what you're saying- ummm hi? I.. I'm Chase! can you not... point that very sharp and real sword at me please?"

The two men blink in almost comical unison. It's hard to tell what their expressions are under the masks, but it's clear they're just as confused as he is. They look at each other.

"A bhfuil an fies agatcén te anga a bían?" asks the wolf-masked one.

The owl-masked one shakes his head. "Ní aith ním aer shor aer bithé."

The wolf-masked man stares at Bro for a moment more. Then lowers the sword, but does not sheathe it.

"Tá brón yom," he says.

"Dyaki, cén f--"

"Is léir ghaer de mhuentor ann FhaoNaigh é," the wolf insists. "Caith fimid bhaifh measeil. Agus gan ainmneasha, ceimhni?"

The owl winced. "Diar mé oer ash 'Dyaki.'"

"...Foc."

Bro backs up more and keeping ping-ponging between the two men talking, though he doesn't understand anything. It kinda sounds like when his aunts would curse in irish but- also way different. It feels... older. God he wished Alt was here... maybe he knew a translation spell or something.

The wolf-masked one notices his growing confusion. "Tá brón yom," he repeats. He leans closer to the owl and murmurs something that Bro can't hear, then looks back at him. "Iss féid irlaet 'Dyaki' a laoch yom." The man gestured at himself. "'Dyaki.'"

He points at the owl-masked man. "Iss féid irlaet 'Henrik' a thabh aetaer. 'Henrik." The owl inclines his head.

"Cad Iss féid irlinn laoch oer?" The wolf points at Bro.

"Dyaki..." Bro repeats with a slow nod. Then, his eyes light up, "Oh! Henrik!" He smiles, relived. At least they found someone who he... sort of recognized.

The owl--Henrik's eyes widen.

Dyaki looks at him. "A bhfuil aithme oer? Cén shoi a bhfuil aithme aer FhaoNaigh?!"

"Níl aithme!" Henrik protests.

Oh- maybe they know sign? ... it could be worth a try.

Bro tries to sign I'm sorry, I can't understand you. Do you know sign? even if he's a bit clumsy with it.

Then Henrik’s eyes widen further as he sees Bro sign. "An labh raíon sé i láemhi?"

"Ní labh raíon i láemhi é sin a aithmím." Dyaki shakes his head. He finally sheaths his sword... and begins making gestures. It's clearly sing language of some sort, but it's not BSL.

Bro grins bashfully and holds up his hands, "ah okay.... that doesn't work either... shit- ...doesn't my phone have real time translation?” He pulls out his phone and tries to see if it even works.

Bro's phone does indeed work. But in the upper left corner where it usually provides cell bars and WiFi, it simply says No Service.

Bro tsks under his breath, "Of fucking course.. just my luck..."

"Cadé aan saolile?" Henrik steps forward, right up to Bro, and stares at his phone. He reaches out. "An féidi lom yeamháil...?"

"Henrik!" Dyaki looks stunned at the fact that Henrik is reaching for Bro's phone, as if he's committed some social faux pas.

"Féash aer," Henrik says quietly. "Táse shomh ai teash, caithfi mé iarash."

Bro looks at Henrik reaching for the phone and he looks confused but he offers it to him. "Uh- maybe you know where to get some service? Are we just in a bad spot? ... im realizing you can't understand me either but talking gives me comfort-"

Henrik takes the phone gently, like it's made of porcelain, and turns it over in his hands. He seems interested in the buttons and charging port at first, but then notices that the screen responds to touch and eagerly begins swiping back and forth between the home screens.

"Dyaki, féash aer!" he says excitedly. "Is motael aus gloena a lashonn! Aus frea raíonn sé, féash! Ní fhaka mé draíosht marse riam."

"Isé draíosht aan FhaoNaigh," Dyaki mutters. "Tabhair aisdó é."

"Tá, tá." Henrik nods and gives the phone back to Bro. "Rai moith a ghat."

Bro watches them look at his phone with increasing confusion. It’s like… they’ve never seen one before. That’s… really weird. But- technically with the kids they went into the past… What if they went even further?

Bro panics a bit at this thought and stumbles to stand up. “Uh- you all keep saying… FhaoNaigh- I don’t think.., I’m that? I- where is this?” He tries to look around more to see if he can get more hints, taking off his mask and shoving it in his pocket in the meantime. His hair fades back to his regular brown. “I’m not a FhaoNaigh- my name is Chase! I need to- god where’s alt??”

The two men step back, looking surprised and worried at Bro's distress. "FhaoNaigh?" Dyaki repeats, pointing at Bro with confusion.

Bro shakes his head at being called that again.

"Fuaimean séosil o bhfuil sé ará 'Tshais,'" Henrik mutters.

"Is cumalei ndáiríre," Dyaki emphasizes. "Ommm... Lasmuigh?" He points to the side and starts walking in that direction. "Téi lasmuigh?" He gestures for Bro to follow him.

As Dyaki points and directs Bro to follow, he slowly does, really trying to look at everything as they walk.

Henrik and Dyaki murmur to each other as they walk, allowing Bro ample time to look at the stuff. All these trunks and boxes and various containers... he doesn't see anything made of cardboard or plastic. These clothes... they're more than medieval-looking, the stitches look hand-done. And sometimes they come across weapons. They all look real. And there is not a firearm in sight.

“What the fuck….” Bro breathes, “please tell me this is just some really convincing re-enactors… or a ren faire… those are fun I like those-“

"Hwaet!"

They've reached the edge of the room. It looks like this place is a massive... dome? The white stone rafters curve down to meet the floor. Dyaki pushes aside a flap in the canvas and again gestures for Bro to follow.

Bro looks around at the dome and squints at it before following after Dyaki again.

Outside is a camp, pitched of tents. Not colorful tents with mesh and fabric. Strong, sturdy tents made of canvas. The sky above is bright blue, and the air is somehow crisper, fresher than Bro has ever breathed before. People wander past, wearing the same medieval clothing and masks as Henrik and Dyaki. There is a rising smoke from a fire in the distance. And surrounding all this are massive white stones. ... No, not stones. Bones. This camp is surrounded by the skeleton of some massive creature.

Bro’s jaw drops as he sees the camp- breathes the crisp air. Okay… this might actually be real. As soon as he registers the camp is surrounded by bones- Bro can’t take it anymore. He has to see. He leaps into the air and flies above the camp to see the skeleton in full. Not even considering what he could have done would backfire on him or scare anyone. The adhd has taken hold and he’s definitely off his medicine by now with how many jumps they’ve done.

"CADE AAN SAOLILE?!" he hears someone shout from below, followed by various cries of panic and awe.

As he goes up, up, up, the skeleton comes into view. First, the reptilian head, topped with horns. Then the extending lines of wingbones confirm it. This is a creature that does not exist in his world. A dragon.

Bro feels his breath puff out of his mouth as it falls open in awe. “That’s… that’s a fucking dragon-“ He laughs breathlessly and pushes back his hair. “Holy fucking shit…! This is the craziest place yet! What the fuck!”

By now he’s registering the sounds of panic/awe below and he curses. “Ah fuck… right- Jesus okay-“ he quickly zooms back down and makes sure he finds where Dyaki and Henrik are. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “S-Sorry! I got curious!”

The two of them are staring at him in utter shock. "Aan... bhfuil tú... Sinse?" Dyaki asks slowly.

Henrik shakes his head. "Fiú tá a fhies ayam go bhfuil mísheart." He takes a step forward. "...Tshais? Aan tufuil Tshais?"

"Níl sé Tshais!" Dyaki shouts. "Tshais ní fédie lais eithil!" Oh. 'Tshais.' It's the name Chase but spoken with slightly softer sounds.

“Tshais-“ Bro starts trying to say and then brightens as he realizes. “Oh Chase! That’s me, yes! I’m Chase! Chase Brody!” He points to himself and nods eagerly. As if he just forgotten that he just blew these guys’ minds.

This does not help with the blown minds. If anything, it looks like Dyaki's brain is melting. He takes a deep breath, turns to the side... and shouts, "Foc! Foc foc foc foc foc!" The meaning of that seems pretty clear.

Bro points at Jackie having a meltdown, “…well I know that word for sure-“

Henrik laughs.

He then looks at Bro thoughtfully. "Tshais mak Brodi." And he nods. "Credine thú. Ash cén... tshai?"

Bro blinks at Henrik attempting to talk to him and just politely nods.

Dyaki rejoins the other two. "Aan bhfuil a fies cá bhfuil Maerfin?" he asks Henrik.

"Aran mbhea lach." Henrik starts walking through the camp. Dyaki follows, and gestures for Bro to follow to.

Once Bro’s led to follow he does. “Man… this is really really weird…”

The three of them head through camp, the other people parting around them, not even bothering to disguise their stares.

Bro waves at some of the people before he thinks better of it and just follows behind Dyaki and Henrik.

-----------

Alt appears in a forest. It's a very lovely forest, the trees taller, wider, and bigger than he's ever seen before. The branches above are thick, and the only reason there's sunlight is because it's autumn and the vibrant leaves are thinning. Bushes and other undergrowth practically hide the forest floor beneath him. He barely has the chance to notice all this when--

Something goes whizzing right by him. If he turns around, he sees an arrow embedded in a tree, shaft and fletching vibrating.

Alt breathes for a second, confused by the air and trees when- He yelps in surprise and glitches away.

He then glitches back and pulls it out of the tree with wide confused eyes. “…a fucking arrow?? Who shot an arrow at me?!”

The forest is quiet except for the rustling of leaves. And then there is a louder rustling coming from a bush on the opposite direction of the arrow. And then there is a thunk, the sound of someone falling, and a hissed voice that says, "Dyamison!" Whatever that means.

Alt crouches down into a defensive stance, building up electricity in his hand. He carefully walks forward and then tries to glitch to where he heard the sound- hoping to get the upper hand.

The glitch is successful. He pushes aside a bush to see--a rabbit? No, it's someone wearing a rabbit mask, staring up with him with wide eyes...eyes that immediately shoot to the lingering glitch effects around him.

"Dyamison!" Suddenly another bush gets pushed aside and a man stands up, wearing a hat, a deer mask--and armed with a bow and a quiver by his side. His eyes also shoot to the lingering glitches.

"Tá brón yom, tá brón yom!" The man says, raising his hands. "Shílmé fur fiana thú, mé mionn é! Rinne mé! Dhírash--dhírash a fhákáil leis éin!" He sounds... panicked.

Alt backs up with his hands up and feels himself panicking too. “W-woah hey! You’re- you’re speaking a whole other language what the fuck…”

Strangely enough, Alt's panic seems to calm the man down slightly. He lowers his own hands, now simply wary instead of afraid. "Tá brón yom, níl a fhies aya cadatá thú ag rá."

The man in the rabbit mask stands up and steps backwards, almost tripping over some hidden roots. He looks at the other and raises his hands and--that's a sign language of some kind, definitely. But Alt doesn't recognize it.

"Cadatá igh seis aya?" The first man asks.

More sign language.

"Cén fáth nachrai tú dhírash taréis sin a rá?" The man sounds exasperated. He looks at Alt, and gives an awkward little bow. "Aan duine de FhaoNaigh thú?" he asks slowly, as if the speed was the issue and not the whole other language.

Alt looks between the two with widening eyes.

This- this was insane. God- didn’t Blaise give him a translation spell? …oh oh yes! Okay he knows this- he’s used it on Henny when he’s been really sick!

He breathes and closes his eyes. He places a hand on his temple, “thuiscint” then he places a hand on his throat, “labhairt nua.” When he’s done he opens his eyes back up and they’re glowing blue green. But- he should be able to understand them now…? Hopefully.

“Ah sorry… I didn’t understand before, could you say that again?”

Both of the men look impressed--but honestly, not as impressed as most everyday people would be when seeing magic.

"Are duine of FhaoNaigh you?" the man in the deer mask says. That makes no sense. The spell is struggling with this language. But thankfully, the man realizes something is up. "Om... say I aríse. Are being of FhaoNaigh you? Are you one of the FhaoNaigh?"

Alt knits his eyebrows together. Huh- this must be a tricky language… could it be old? Judging by these guys outfits and the fact that they tried to shoot him with a bow is very much convincing him of that.

“One of the… FhaoNaigh? Uhhh who are those?” Alt asks delicately.

"You don't know who the Fair Folk are?" the man in the deer mask says, sounding shocked. "Well, I guess that shows that you're not one of them. Where are you from, then? Why are you..." He pauses, searching for the words. "...made of... harsh light? And smell like... lightning?"

The man in the rabbit mask rolls his eyes and signs something.

"You describe it, then, Jameson!" the first man says, annoyed.

Alt’s eyebrows rise. Jameson. Okay that,.. that explains the sign. God he wished he could understand that too… feels rude to not know his side of things.

“Fair Folk… no can’t say I have… unless you’re talking about my complexion.” Alt tries to laugh. “I’m from- …really far away I’m guessing. A city called Brighton. And uh- I’m not… made of light- it’s just my magic. I can… hm- just sort of move around really fast. But with my whole body.” He glitches back and forth across the clearing before settling back in front of them. “We call it ‘glitching’ but if I’m right about this.. you wouldn’t know what that was.”

"Braiton?" The man in the deer mask shakes his head. "I've never heard of it. But I haven't traveled much. Jameson?"

Jameson shakes his head. He signs something else.

"Oh, Jameson thinks your magic is fascinating," the man in the deer mask says. "And I do too. You're right, I've never heard of... ghlishing." He pauses. "What are you doing out here, then? You appeared out of nowhere, i-it startled me. Sorry about the arrow, I thought you were a deer, I swear it."

Alt shakes his head, “it’s okay! I’m sure it was scary seeing someone appear out of nowhere. As for why I’m here… that’s a really long story I’m not sure you’d believe…”

Alt laughs, “And, uh, thanks. You guys are the ones who are fascinating to me… uh- where is this exactly?”

Strangely, the men hesitate when he asks where this is. "You're in the Dragon's Greatwoods," the man in the deer mask says slowly. "And you may as well tell us. I wouldn't believe that you showed up out of thin air if we hadn't seen it ourselves. Oh, I should introduce myself to you first. Call me Chase, son of Brody. And call him Jameson... Jameson, do you want me to...?" He waits for him to nod. "Okay. Jameson Jairsolas. What are you called?"

“Um…” Both of his names are out of place here. Guess it can’t be helped. “I’m Alt. Alt… Brody.”

He studies Chase closely. This is this world's version of his brother… he guesses he could see it? Weird to see Chase not in bright almost blinding colors.

“Okay well… I’m from- another world. One that’s like this one, but different. It’s Another world that is… probably in the future? If not just… something different entirely… not sure yet… but something feels distinctly more magical here…”

"Another world?" Chase repeats. "Oh. Okay. Nice to meet you, Alt Brody." He pauses. "That would explain the harsh light--the ghlishing. Strange to think of a world with less magic, though. You must be even more out of place at home. Sorry about that."

Alt blinks. Wow he accepted that a lot faster then he thought he would. Alt stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “It’s alright. I got my brother- he’s …magic too. Somewhat.”

Jameson signs something.

"Really?"

He repeats it insistently.

"...Fine, I guess." Chase sighs. "Jameson wants to take you back to our camp. He insists that nothing bad will happen, which--I suppose I'm more inclined to believe coming from him, but I'm still not entirely sure." Another pause. "If you're from another world, why did you come here?"

Alt tilts his head at this and then nods, “your camp… yeah that’s probably a good idea.” The glitch laughs at Chase’s last question. “We can’t really… control it at this point I guess. We’re trying to get home but… we keep picking the wrong places. We’re uh- kinda hunting down a dangerous person too.”

“Hmm.” Chase hums. “Well maybe we could help with that search. We’re very prepared to… protect people from dangerous people. I could’ve said that better, but you get what I mean.” He looks at Jameson. “If this turns out to be a bad idea you’re taking the blame.”

Jameson nods, as if he expected that.

“Alright, Alt Brody, follow us.” Chase turns and starts heading through the trees. “Anything else we should know before we get there? Like about your brother? Where is he, if not with you?”

"Hopefully close by," Alt mutters, "If not just- if you see someone is a stupidly bright orange jacket, it's probably him. ... oh or if you see anyone in the sky." He walks after them, afraid of scaring them more with his glitches. Even if it pains him.

Chase momentarily stops walking. "...In the sky? Does he have wings?"

Alt laughs, "Uh- no. That would be sick, though. His powers means he can fly. Amongst other things. And... knowing Chase- he's gonna be zipping around without much thought."

"That must be strong magic," Chase whispers. He's so in awe that he almost misses Alt mentioning his brother's name. "Wait... oh! So your brother is also called Chase. Good to know, that'll be helpful if the flying and bright orange isn't. There aren't many people named that in Glasúil. That's... where you are by the way. I'm not sure if you'd know that."

"Oh- huh, that's weird. It's a common name where we're from." Alt comments. ".. Glasúil- ... I've never heard of that. So, i guess we're not in the past past... just- somewhere... fantasy, I guess?" he shakes this head muttering, "This is the weirdest place yet..."

"Fantisey? You mean like... a story?" Chase considers that. "I suppose if your world is different enough, this one would seem like a story." He laughs. "It gets stranger. Wait until we reach camp. Which won't take too long, don't worry. Only about ten minutes. Come on, we can hurry." He starts walking again, he and Jameson picking up the pace.

Alt laughs, “Yeah… this is one crazy story.” He tries to keep pace with the others, though he looks over his shoulder quite a bit. As if worried about what could be lurking in the shadows.

-----------

As expected, the string snap as soon as Magnificent leaves the last universe. He falls for a moment, then winds up on... a wooden surface, of some kind. Like a dock for boats. He hears voices. Though he can't recognize what they're saying, they sound alarmed. When he looks around he finds himself in some place very strange indeed. It's a town of some sort but... incredibly, the whole thing is floating on water. The buildings, the wooden street, the poles that hold lanterns. But if he looks in the distance, he can see stone buildings. They must not be too far from land.

This is the most crowded landing yet. People are staring at him, all wide-eyed shock. He popped out of nowhere in the middle of a street and now there are about... twenty, thirty people staring at him--though they aren't too keen to get close, so he has a wide circle of space around himself.

Magnificent is enraged as he lands, pushing himself up with anger and looking around to see where that annoying hero and his disobedient cub are. But he pauses as he realizes he’s surrounded. He backs up, eyes wide as he takes in the look of the people. …why do they look old-timey? And not even… Henrik old-timey… these people look medieval. And so does the buildings around him on this strange floating dock,

“What the fuck-“ he whispers. He then glares and disappears from in front of them and slinks into nearby shadow.

The crowd gasps and cries out in surprise as Magnificent disappears. They look around, as if expecting him to be nearby, but of course, he is not.

Mag should probably stay out of sight until he can glean where this is… maybe he should disguise himself to fit in. Though… it could be fun to show off his magic and let these simpletons heed him as a god. Hm… maybe later. Right now, he needs more information…

Magnificent has found himself in a vast city, all clearly medieval in setting and yet impossibly incredible. The city starts on an island, where there are narrow buildings and winding streets and fenced-off gardens, all surrounding an enormous walled castle. But the city expands beyond the island as well, floating out onto the lake that surrounds it. This is where the maze of wooden walkways and houses come in. You would think that houses floating on a lake would be dangerous, but everything is remarkably sturdy. And there is something... something in the air.

"Goddess Almighty..." Magnificent breathes out in wonder. When he was human- this kind of place would have been his fantasy. And... maybe it is, still. A fantasy... so fantastical in how its structured. And even more so- he can sense something in the air. Magic? By now, he's yearning for anything. The power of the last world wasn't nearly enough...

Yes, it is indeed magic. And there is so… so… much of it. When he reaches out to detect it, it’s as if everything gives off a faint glow. In fact, he can feel this magic already sustaining him, slowly, like rain dripping into a bucket. But when he tries to reach out to take more or make it go faster, he can’t. This film of magic feels strangely distant. It will not give him more than he can hold naturally, and he cannot make it go faster.

Magnificent feels magic already in his veins and its incredible. Oh he likes this very much... but as always- he needed more.

But if he seeks magic to take, he can find it easily. There are so many magicians here. Granted, many of them have weak signatures, but in this city of thousands there are a smattering of powerhouses. The strongest of which is located in the castle in the center of the city.

Weak signatures cloud his vision but he can feel the strongest near... oh- a castle. Perfect... The dark magician grins to himself and then shifts into his cat form, slithering across the shadows to make his way towards the castle.

There is, of course, a wall around the castle, and there are, of course, guards patrolling it. But the gaps in the main portcullis are wide enough that a cat, liquid as they are, can slip through easily. And once inside the castle grounds nobody pays attention to a cat. Strays are not uncommon here. The castle is a collection of buildings, but the magic signature is within the main palace. The doors and windows are closed, but that won’t be a problem, will it? Even if Magnificent was an ordinary cat, he would simply need to wait for an opportunity.

Magnificent takes his time to study the people and this place as best as he can. When he reaches the windows he plops himself down in a place to wait... he can't draw too much attention just yet. It was already well guarded here. He can't afford to get caught. So he waits... he can be patient.

It's not long before a woman with a broom comes walking down the hallway inside, sweeping dirt into the corners. Not bothering with a dustpan. Magnificent has seen many people wearinggreen tunics like hers, it must be a uniform. She notices the cat sitting outside and her eyes light up. Discreetly, she glances to either side and then hurries over and slides the window open. It's a good thing he chose this spot, not all the windows will slide like that.

"Nash bhfuil tú gleoti?" she coos. "Teash tar, teash tar." It's a language Magnificent doesn't recognize, sounding like bastardized Irish, but judging by her tone she wants him to get close. Probably for petting.

Magnificent is quick to jump on the windowsill, letting himself be pet. But, as the woman makes contact, he floods his power into her. Attempting to decipher and learn the language while searching through her mind. And make it malleable to him as well- Could be useful...

The woman gasps. Her mind is surprisingly weak already, like a piece of cloth worn thin. She does not even try to fight against him. Deciphering the language is tricky, since it's not one Magnificent is familiar with, but he gets there eventually. And learns some about this new world.

This city is Suilthair, the capital of the island kingdom Glasúil. Glasúil is ruled by "aan Rith"--the Royal, the King. This woman is convinced the King is a good man, a kind and just ruler. But Magnificent knows the signs of manipulation when he sees them.

Magnificent shakes himself out as the information comes flooding. Ah- interesting. His eyes glow as he looks at the woman and he asks in her head. {Fair Maiden, can you direct me to where the Royal is?}

The woman smiles faintly, flattered at being called fair. She says something that Magnificent understands to mean, “He’s in the Great Hall at this time of day. Follow me.” And she stands up straight and starts down the wide hallways.

He chuckles and follows right after her. He makes sure to study the castle as the walk- this almost feels too easy. Not that he's complaining...

The palace corridors are wide and grand, but feel somewhat empty and dark, even with the many windows. The woman leads him down hall after hall until they reach a set of grand wooden doors. There are two guards on either side, but one of the doors is propped open so that kind of defeats the purpose of them, really.

"Through there," the woman says. "I'm not allowed in."

Magnificent giggles and in a quick burst of static he returns to his proper form. He pats her shoulder and strides forward, grinning wide. "Thank you, my dear. Now- run along~, I have business to attend to."

The two guards cry out when Magnificent shifts form, grabbing their pole arms while the woman calmly walks away.

Mag meets the guards' eyes and cocks his head at them, sending out a mental blast of obedience. "Excuse me gentlemen~ Let me through."

He attacks, and at once—maybe even faster than normal—the guards relax. They lower their weapons and step aside, letting Mag access the open doorway.

Magnificent chuckles and dramatically flares his cape to walk by and into the room. "Much obliged!"

The Royal... must be the most powerful person in this realm. And if all these fools kept falling so easily... either the king would be easy prey. Or... a worthy opponent. Either option had the mad magician excited.

This was going to be so much fun~

The Great Hall is indeed great, a wide open space with a peaked roof above and old tapestries hanging on the walls. There is also a fireplace with a roaring fire on the other end of the room, but its warmth doesn't reach the door. A long wooden table takes up most of the space. There's room for many people to sit but there is only one. A man sitting at the head of the table by the fireplace, drinking from a goblet and staring at one of the tapestries thoughtfully. He wears a green cape, a golden circlet sitting on his brown hair. From this distance, he almost looks like Alt. But then he looks at Magnificent and he sees that his eyes are an unnatural emerald green color.

"You wasted no time," he says, putting the goblet down and standing up.

Magnificent can't help but smirk. Clever already... and so much like his cub. "Ah, you expected me, then?"

“I felt a stranger coming ever since you entered the castle grounds.” The King clasps his hands behind him. “I’ve never seen such strange garb. A mask, but you’re not one of those rebels. Where are you from?”

"mmm incredible reach~!" Magnificent's blood is roaring in his ears, hungry for the power just a few feet from him. He laughs a bit madly and repeats the king's gesture, but tilts his head like a curious cat. "From a world beyond your comprehension~ I'm merely... visiting. Trying to see what a world like this has to offer~"

“And you think you can take my power?” The King chuckles. “You can try. Perhaps this world will have things beyond your comprehension. Magic may exist on your Earth, but do you think the magic here will be so easily taken and converted to yours? You already had trouble in the last world, I see.”

Magnificent's confidence wavers and he stumbles back just slightly. He's- unnerved. He didn't even feel a presence inside his head at all. His eyes darken and spark with power as he growls. "How the fuck did you do that?"

The King grins. “Already surprised? You may not last long here, Marvin. Strange, I knew a man with close to that name once. He escaped his fate.”

Oh- now he's done it. Magnificent roars in anger and lashes out to attack the King with his claws.

The King reacts swiftly. Mag didn’t even notice the sheathe by his side. In the second before Mag reaches him he pulls out a large knife, and Magnificent’s claws glance off the coppery metal.

“Rashness will get you killed, magician,” the King says, spinning the large knife. Lightning traces the blade.

Magnificent's eyes glow with rage and he summons green fire in his hands, "How did you get in my mind?! I didn't even detect you! What are you?!" He spits.

“I am what you seek to become.” The King smiles. “And there can only be one of us in this world. I’ll offer you mercy. You have three days to leave this world.” He raises the blade, not pointing it at Magnificent, instead tracing an outline around him. Ozone fills the air. “If you don’t, I will kill you. If you cause too much trouble, this offer is forfeit and I will kill you. Do you understand?”

"Don't patronize me!" Magnificent shrieks, "I won't stoop so low to take pity from the likes of you!" He teleports to be right in front of the King and tries to grab him by his cloak.

But as Magnificent teleports in front of him, he feels a sharp pain in his gut and hears a hissing sound. That electrified blade went right into his stomach. And the King doesn't so much as flinch.

Magnificent cries out and then moves to try to shove himself away from the blade- but the shocks have his muscles trying to spasm.

"This is not condensation, Marvin," the King says. "Nor is it pity. It's a shame to end a life so ambitious. But your anger will leave me no choice." He smiles drily. "Learn to abandon it."

The mad magician grits his teeth in rage. "You're underestimating me too quickly, Your majesty." He spits the title out like its poison.

A spiral of green and purple magic blooms behind the magician, trying to ensnare the king's senses.

The King glances at it, and... and for a moment, it feels like Mag has control. His eyes even glaze over. But he doesn't respond to commands like he should.

"You are very powerful," the King says, tilting his head like he's admiring the spirals the way someone would a work of art. "But I think you're misunderstanding this situation. This sort of trick won't work." He grabs Magnificent by the shoulders and spins him around. When he traced an outline around him earlier, when the air had smelled of ozone, a doorway had opened up in the middle of the air, edges lined with snapping green power. On the other side is somewhere lined with trees. "See if you can make your way back here to try again," the King says, and pushes Mag forward.

Magnificent gasps as he's grabbed and tries to spin around to reach for the king as he's pushed through the doorway, spitting curses. "NO!"

The King is not expecting to be grabbed--in his experience, people are usually pretty weak after being stabbed with lightning. He cries out, surprised, and the two of them tumble forward through the doorway, which abruptly disappears.

"Ageless fucking Elders!" The King curses, scrambling to his feet. He spins around, clenching his fists in frustration, then forces himself to take some deep breaths. They're now outside of the city in a completely different location. A copse of autumn trees, surrounded by fields for as far as the eye can see.

"Congratulations, Marvin, you've managed to change my mind," the King mutters. "You get to live so it'll be easier to get back to somewhere with people instead of the middle of thrice-damned nowhere."

Magnificent spits dirt out of his mouth and pushes himself up, gripping at his wound. "Oh how generous of you, your kinglyness" He spits. He looks around the landscape and bares his teeth in a snarl. "... also stop calling me that, before I claw your innards out and frame it on a wolf."

"Very creative," the King mutters. "Fine, Magnificent. You are aware you're not bleeding, right? You know what sealing a wound is, right? Unfortunately I didn't think to bring medical supplies or health potions so you'll have to live with that."

Magnificent blinks and looks down at his hand, revealing that there is, in fact, no blood. He scowls and rubs at the area and mutters, "... still hurts like a bitch." He shakes himself off, much like a cat would and observes the woods. ...what can they do now? He hasn't felt any presence of his cub or his idiot brother...

"Right, those two who have been hunting you through your travels," the King says, picking up on Magnificent wondering about those two. "I suppose if they have the talisman that lets you travel you would've needed to find them. Hmm... and if they could be anywhere in the kingdom, you might not have found them within three days. My limit was perhaps a bit unfair."

Magnificent jumps at the king just casually saying his thoughts out loud. "Jesus christ! Can you like- not?? For a second?" He hisses, bristling like a startled cat.

The King looks at him, confused. “Jesus…? Oh, one of your world’s gods, I see.”

"what? oh yeah- uh... right. I suppose he is." Mag makes a face at this.

The King pauses. “I suppose if we are forced to work together for a time I could offer you that trust.” He is clearly reluctant. “I’ll swear on my family line to not hear your thoughts until we find our way out of the wild. Happy?”

Mag studies the king's expression and then sighs and slowly nods. "Alright. And I'll try not to do the same. I have... no idea how to navigate this so... I guess a truce is in order."

The King nods slowly. "A truce." He looks around and starts carefully walking deeper into the trees, away from the fields. "It's been a while since I walked in the wilds. Especially so unprepared. We'll have to use our magics to their fullest. The first order of business is food and water. I see no water, and only small animals will run across the fields. We must look elsewhere."

Magnificent makes a face, "Fuck... i haven't gone camping in the woods since I was a boy..." He mutters. "Jackie always loved this shit- fucking- god." He nods to the king and realizes his appearance will probably scare off anything coming towards them. He grunts and then changes his appearance to fit in. Getting rid of his mask and letting his hair get long and brown and curled up in a bun. His shirt changes to a billowy sleeved tunic with dark green patches and a small capelet over his shoulder. His classy dress shoes turn to hunting boots. It feels... strange. But at least they can keep a lower profile now. After much thought he puts back on his mask though. He needs to be able to... somewhat see. Or see the magic around them. Maybe he can sense some life around here... ugh. Hunting. All this is leaving a bad taste in his mouth, reminding him of days he long since wanted to forget.

The King watches as Magnificent uses magic to change his appearance. He raises an eyebrow. "Clever," he says quietly. "May I suggest the addition of some piece of jewelry? Wizards here need a focus to channel their magic, and as you are clearly magical, it would look strange to see you without one."

"Ah would I be considered a wizard here then?" Magnificent mused, "My father always called us sorcerers."

After a moment of thought, the King also reluctantly removes the circlet from his head, stringing it along his belt. "Be discreet about it, though, too much shine will attract magpies."

Mag shrugs and tries to think of an easy focus. He looks around then finds a rock on the ground, perfectly round. He pumps it full of black magic and its shape shifts into one of a simple gold focus with a black opal in the center, though it seems cracked with various colors underneath. He smirks and puts the trinket on, letting it dangle around his neck. "I'm fairly interested in how our magic systems may differ-" He pauses and then briefly glances at the King. "Though... you know my name, but I only know your title. What exactly should I call you? or do you prefer to only be referred to in royal terms."

The King grins, looking almost mischievous. "Aodhan will work, if you must. Though it is not... hmm... common to use a monarch's first name here.”

"Well, where I'm from the monarchy is nothing more than a figure head that distracts the populace with its extravagance." Magnificent replies with clear distain. "So, Aodhan will do fine until we're around others I suppose. I'm not referring to you by title if I can help it. Though... I guess you can refer to me as... that name- if you must... or the simpletons who stalk me call me ‘Mag’. That could work too."

“As for the matter of magic, yes, wizard would be the closest thing you are, though what you just did with that rock would be more akin to sorcery, which is the manipulation of the natural world. Wizardry is other flashy magic, such as summoning things or shapeshifting... but enchantment is the magic of the mind. Out of all the options, wizardy would best explain the variety of power you have." The King continues.

Mag chuckles at the explanation of magic and shakes his head. "So limiting... the divisions here. How quaint."

"Hmm... it is quite frustrating, isn't it?" the King agrees. "I know others who would say the division is the price to pay for the abundance of power in the land. But... well, it's as you said, rather limiting, isn't it? Luckily, we don't have to abide by those limits." He smiles darkly. "We have some walking to do yet. I hope you're prepared."

Magnificent chuckles and shares that dark smile with the King. "As I'll ever be."

[magnolia-sunrise]

my wisdom is you should always listen to the siren call of the "i haven't drawn my OCs kissing enough" urge. especially when its ockiss week 💘 based on prompts from @/hiveworks kiss challenge template

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

Hear me out: a fix-it fic where Emmrich is installing ghosties further south and stumbles onto Anders/Justice, he helps them heal and seperate, then they find new purpose in the Necropolis for a while.

[garvalhaminho]

this is a very quick post before bed but sometimes i like to wonder about ty forgetting some traits of livvy's (i do love sibling angst lol). specifically her eye colour (also also unintentional tessa/will parallel of mine!!). i may be using the wrong language, so correct me, please, if i am, but a very common trait associated w autism is the avoidance of eye contact, so imagine if ty rarely ever looked livvy in the eye. years after her death, she is a ghost, she is colourless, and ty has forgotten the precise shade of her eyes and feels guilty for doing so, especially in the environment he was raised in, w lack of knowledge/acceptance of his disability. and so mix in the ableism w the grief (or lack thereof?) of livvy's death and tiberius becomes even more miserable

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

i finished strange the dreamer so now i am wondering if minya is not villainized in the second part bc that child had to do shit that would be hard for an adult let alone a six year old and the fact that she kept all of them alive by her sheer will and spite i mean-

[rosaisla]

While it's true that you do have to read stuff made for adults in mind in order to be able to understand a certain level of complexity, you are giving entirely too much credit to adult books and too little to children's. Anything written for adults has more complex themes? Really, anything? Even the worst of romance novels? I seriously doubt you would think that. If you do then you're worse than the people who insist that children's books are so superior to adult ones.

(Here's an example: The Underland Chronicles, fantasy books written by Suzanne Collins for kids ages 9 to 12 vs anything Colleen Hoover has written)

No babe it’s so cool and hot that you always insist that fantasy books written to meet a 4th graders’ comprehension skills have more complex themes and a greater sense of praxis than anything written for adults

[gender-euphowrya]

brother a tale of two sons was such a nothingburger game i can't believe it got a remake

[dakusan]

BDSM Profiles

stray kids ot8 x reader | eight men. one mission: ruin you beautifully.

🖤 synopsis: Eight profiles. Eight archetypes. One shared goal: your complete, consensual destruction. What began as a playful exploration of kinks spiraled into a curated BDSM character study of Stray Kids—each rendered with precision, filth, and psychological flair. You’re not just being fucked. You’re being understood.

💌a/n: you all already knew i was going to hell. this is just the velvet rope section. so… this spiraled. violently. what started as “hahaha chan’s kink profile” turned into a full BDSM dossier series featuring eight men who are clearly out to ruin us delicately. inspired by this post I wrote , i decided to make it worse. better? worse. let’s say both. i hope you enjoy this descent into the beautiful, depraved psyches of these chaotic domcore men. i wrote it so you’d feel ruined and cherished. just like they’d want. p.s. if you see this on your dash at 2am, drink water. and stretch. they'd want you hydrated. p.p.s. if you send me your bias... i might tell you how he’d destroy you personally. for science. 🕯️ p.p.p.s. reblogs = aftercare. likes are foreplay. do the right thing.

⚠️warnings: 18+ ONLY (MDNI) — explicit BDSM themes, kink content (degradation, overstimulation, bondage, sadism, praise, fear kink, aftercare, etc.), dom/sub dynamics, filthy language, emotional intensity, and possessive behavior — all fictional and consensual.

🎶now playing: "Criminal" – Taemin

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

Bang Chan // 방찬

Dominant | Caregiver | Primal (Dom) Core Archetype: Daddy Dom ⟡ Soft Dom ⟡ Service Top Vibe: “You’re mine, and I’ll prove it slowly.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Daddy kink — You don’t call him Daddy for fun. You do it because his voice drops an octave and your legs give out when you do. Rules. Rewards. Discipline that sounds like worship.

Overstimulation — He’ll edge you until you’re sobbing. Then make you cum until you’re begging him to stop. And he still won’t.

Praise + Degradation — “Such a good girl… even when you’re dripping all over Daddy’s cock like a filthy little thing.”

Mirror play — Makes you watch. Makes you see what you do to him. “Look at yourself, baby. Look how desperate you get for me.”

Bondage — Silk ties. Leather cuffs. His belt. His fucking voice is a restraint.

Obsession kink — He won’t admit it out loud. But the way he tracks your every breath? You’re not just his. You’re his religion.

🔗 DOM STYLE

Emotional dominance — He reads you like a book mid-scene. “You’re not saying anything, angel. Color?”

Controlled cruelty — He’ll ruin you so slowly it feels like mercy. Then smile when you break.

Service-focused — Yes, he’s in charge. But your pleasure is the mission. Even when he’s wrecking you, he’s cataloguing what makes you melt.

Off-scene control — He won’t let you text your ex. He will pick your dress. He does feed you aftercare snacks like you’re his beloved brat.

💦 FILTHY FAVOURITES

Positions: Bent over the studio desk. Knees on the mirror floor. Legs over his shoulders while he praises you through tears.

Dirty talk level: 8/10 – Degrading Devotion

“That’s it, sweetheart. Take Daddy’s cock like a good little mess.” “You said ruin you. So don’t cry now.” “Look at you. Fucked dumb and still begging. Say thank you.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Gold-standard. Warm towels. Gentle hands. Voice dipped in honey.

“You did so well for me, baby. Let me hold you.”

Lee Know // 리노

Sadist | Brat Tamer | Primal (Dom) | Owner Core Archetype: Elegant Sadist ⟡ Possessive Dom ⟡ Pet Play Daddy Vibe: “You're mine. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Brat taming — He lives for the defiance in your eyes right before he breaks you. You roll your eyes? You’re face-down, ass up, and not walking tomorrow.

Impact play — Leather belt. Open palm. Riding crop. He doesn’t just leave marks—he signs his name in bruises.

Orgasm denial — “Did I say you could cum?” / “Cry about it, kitten.”

Pet play (dom side) — You’re his kitten. He’ll collar you. Make you beg prettily or not at all.

Sadism + precision — Pain with a purpose. Every slap, choke, bite is calculated. He’s not cruel by accident—he’s an artist.

Choking kink — One hand wrapped tight around your throat, the other tracing your trembling lips. “Breathe, baby. You’ll need it.”

🔗 DOM STYLE

Quiet, unshakable authority — No raised voice. Just narrowed eyes, calm hands, and complete ruin.

Owner dynamic — He owns your time, your pleasure, your body. You misbehave? He retrains you. You obey? He rewards filthily.

Degrading praise — “Such a pathetic little slut for me, huh? But mine.”

Control freak, but make it sexy — His rules apply outside the bedroom. That outfit? Approved by him. Your leash? In his coat pocket.

💦 FILTHY FAVOURITES

Positions: Collared and kneeling. Bent over with your leash tugged. Pinned against the mirror as he marks your throat with his teeth.

Dirty talk level: 9/10 – Velvet Ruin

“Keep crying. It makes your moans sound prettier.” “Say you’re mine. Say it while I ruin you.” “You’re my good little toy, even when you’re being bad.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Subtle but intentional. He won’t coo—he’ll clean you up, kiss your bruises, and tuck you into his hoodie with a quiet, “Told you not to act up, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t talk about how much he cares. He just shows it—in the way he pulls you into his lap, or brushes your hair off your sweat-damp forehead like it’s sacred.

Changbin // 창빈

Soft Dom | Primal (Dom) | Caregiver | Service Top Core Archetype: Devoted Dominant ⟡ Power Top with a Heart ⟡ Strength-as-Love Dom Vibe: “I’ll ruin you gently. But you’ll never forget how safe it felt.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Strength kink — Tosses you like you weigh nothing. Pins you down, holds your wrists with one hand, fucks you deep while moaning like you’re the one in control.

Praise kink (extreme) — You’ll cum from his words alone. “So good for me, baby. Look at you. Look how well you take me.”

Overstimulation + tears kink — You cry? He twitches. You sob? He praises harder. You break? He holds you.

Body worship — He kisses every inch of you like he’s memorizing your skin. Like you’re the altar, and he’s kneeling to serve.

Breath play + control — Gentle but firm. His hand on your throat doesn’t scare—it steadies.

Whimper kink — Your little sounds make him feral. He’ll go slower just to hear more. Then ruin you harder when you beg.

🔗 DOM STYLE

Service Dom disguised as a primal top — He’s giving "Yes, I’m pounding you into the mattress, but I’m doing it for you, angel."

Emotionally invested dominance — The eye contact? The moaned affirmations? He means every word.

Possessive but soft — He doesn’t growl unless someone touches what’s his. Otherwise, he’s wrecking you while telling you how proud he is.

💦 FILTHY FAVOURITES

Positions: Against the wall. Held in his lap. Pinned with both legs over his shoulders as he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

Dirty talk level: 8/10 – Degrading Devotion

“That’s it, baby. Cry for me. So good… so fucking perfect.” “You were made for me, weren’t you? Look at this. You’re trembling, but you’re still taking all of me.” “Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of it—all of you.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Warm. Heavy. Gentle. He’ll carry you to bed, run you a bath if your legs can’t work, then pull you into his chest and kiss your hair like he didn’t just make you forget your name.

He whispers:

“You did so well, angel. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

Hyunjin // 현진

Soft Dom | Rope Top | Primal (Sensual) | Caregiver Core Archetype: Artistic Dominant ⟡ Poetic Power Exchange ⟡ Shibari Siren Vibe: “Let me ruin you slowly—beautifully—and then kiss every broken piece.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Shibari-adjacent bondage — He doesn’t just tie you up. He laces meaning into every knot. His silk scarf is a ribbon, a weapon, a promise.

Sensory play — Blindfolds. Tracing fingertips. Whispered filth so low it makes your spine arch. He builds tension like he’s painting with it.

Praise + degradation blend — “You’re such a desperate little thing… but so good for me, angel.” His voice never raises—but your pulse does.

Power exchange (calm control) — You obey not from fear, but from awe. His command is velvet-gloved and irresistible.

Oral fixation — Your mouth, your whimpers, your moans—he worships them all. But he’ll also fill that mouth when he wants you silent.

Marking kink — He paints your body in bruises and kisses both before and after. Art doesn’t just hang—it stains.

🔗 DOM STYLE

Slow, immersive dominance — His pace is agony. He draws it out until you ache for him. “You’ll thank me later,” he murmurs as you beg.

Silent control — One glance. One breathy command. You’re on your knees before you realize you moved.

Worship-as-destruction — He praises your pain. He kisses through your tears. He breaks you with devotion.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: Tied and kneeling. Bound on the bed, legs parted, arms laced above you as he teases every inch. Back arched over a pillow as he takes his time.

Dirty talk level: 9/10 – Velvet Ruin

“You look divine like this—ruined, tied up, crying for me.” “So messy… so mine.” “Give yourself to me, sweetheart. All of you. I’ll handle the rest.” “Such a beautiful little slut.”

💌 AFTERCARE

A ritual. He unties every knot with purpose. Massages every mark he left. Cleans you slowly, lovingly. Holds your face in his palms like it’s priceless.

“You did so well. Still so beautiful. Let me take care of you now.”

He doesn’t detach after scenes—he sinks deeper into you. His care is soft, sensual, and sacred.

Han // 한

Switchy Dom | Brat | Exhibitionist | Degrader with a Praise Problem Core Archetype: Chaos Dom ⟡ Hyperverbal Power Bottom Energy ⟡ Clingy Corruptor Vibe: “You’re my dumb little slut… and my favorite person in the world.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Degradation kink — “Say it. Say what you are. Louder.” He calls you a cumslut while moaning like it’s a compliment.

Praise kink (panic edition) — Five seconds later: “Wait no you’re literally perfect and I love you.” The filth is real. The feelings? Also real.

Exhibitionism / public risk — Fingers under the table. Whispering filth in your ear during dinner. Gets hard watching you squirm in public.

Mutual corruption kink — He wants you just as desperate as him. Wants to make you a mess, and get ruined by you. You fall together.

Spit kink / facefucking — Obscene. Unhinged. Will make you gag and then kiss your forehead.

Hand-over-mouth kink — To tease you. To control you. To hear your muffled whimpers while he whispers: “Shhh… someone might hear.”

🔗 DOM STYLE

Filthy, clingy, unpredictable — He doms with both chaos and heart. You might get ruined with words, then cuddled like he missed you all day.

Talks. So. Much. — Teases, degrades, praises, begs while inside you. His voice is constant—like a vibrator in word form.

Emotionally devastating possession — He’ll say, “You’re mine,” like a command—then nuzzle into your neck like a lost puppy.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: Face down, ass up, his hand over your mouth while he moans how tight you are. On his lap, while he whispers filth into your ear in public. Spread out on his bed while he talks you through your own breakdown.

Dirty talk level: 10/10 – Unholy Scriptures

“You like being my little fucktoy, huh? Can’t even think straight without me.” “So messy, so needy—god, I love you like this.” “You wanna be my dumb little slut forever? I’ll keep you right here. Ruined and dripping.” “Mine. All mine. Say it again.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Clingy. Emotional. Sticky with love. He wraps around you like a koala, kisses your cheeks, and mumbles shit like, “You still like me, right?” while brushing your hair back.

“You were so good. So, so good. Still want me to hold you?”

And he will. For hours.

Felix // 필릭스

Soft Dom | Caregiver | Sensual Primal (Dom) | Service Top Core Archetype: Angelic Dominant ⟡ Velvet Daddy ⟡ Praise-Filled Overstimulation Addict Vibe: “You’re so good for me, baby. Let me ruin you gently.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Praise kink (religious tier) — “You’re perfect, baby. So good. So beautiful.” He says it like he means it. Because he does.

Overstimulation kink — He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking. Then he kisses you and coos, “One more for me, sweetheart.”

Breeding kink (lowkey feral) — You think he’s soft until he growls, “Gotta fill you up, yeah? Want it dripping out of you.” Cue the whiplash.

Sensory control — Blindfolds, cockwarming, silk ribbons. He knows what your body responds to—and he uses it until you’re sobbing.

Touch obsession — Always holding you. Always. Hand on your waist, fingers on your neck, lips on your shoulder. Even when he’s pounding you? He’s still gentle with his hands.

Cockwarming + thigh riding — Wants to feel you constantly. Will murmur, “Just sit on it, love. Stay still. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

🔗 DOM STYLE

Soft-spoken, full control — He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. His words go straight to your core.

Emotional domming — You cry? He gets harder. Not from your tears—but from how much trust it takes to let him see them.

Velvet-daddy energy™ — He might not say it—but you feel it when he calls you his, edges you for hours, and kisses your forehead after he ruins you.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: Riding his thigh while he whispers, “You can cum just like this, can’t you, love?” / On your back, blindfolded, arms tied in silk, as he fucks you slow and praises every sound you make.

Dirty talk level: 8.5/10 – Degrading Devotion with Angelic Edge

“So good for me, baby. Look how beautiful you are like this.” “You can take more, can’t you? Just one more. Be good for me.” “Mine. Every part of you. Say it.” “Want me to fill you up? Hm? That’s it, pretty thing—beg for it.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Unmatched. Cuddles you into his chest, wraps you in his hoodie, brushes the hair off your damp face, and murmurs endless praise into your skin.

“You did so well. So, so well for me.” “I’ve got you now, angel. Just breathe.”

He makes you feel not just safe—but wanted, in every possible way.

Seungmin // 승민

Hard Dom | Degrader | Master/Mistress | Brat Punisher | Emotional Sadist Core Archetype: Calculated Cold Dom ⟡ Verbal Sadist ⟡ Reluctant Caregiver with Control Issues Vibe: “You wanted this. Don’t start crying now.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Verbal humiliation — “Pathetic.” / “You think you deserve to be touched?” / “Keep moaning like that and maybe I’ll consider letting you cum.” He speaks like a knife. And he means it.

Orgasm denial + punishment — You came without permission? He edges you until you're begging, shaking, sobbing—and still doesn’t touch you.

Face slapping (light but sharp) — Not about pain—about control. “Focus. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Degradation kink — He’ll call you a toy. A whore. A mess. And he’ll say it like it’s your title.

Control kink (extreme) — You don’t get to speak unless he says. You don’t get to breathe fast unless he allows it. This isn’t just domination—it’s discipline.

Emotional sadism — He wants you ruined and grateful for it. “Say thank you,” he’ll mutter after he breaks you. And you will.

🔗 DOM STYLE

Cold and calculated — He’s not chaotic. He’s methodical. He watches your reactions like data and uses them to push you further.

Power-obsessed — Not for ego—for structure. He needs to control the scene, your pleasure, your thoughts. It’s how he stays sane.

Emotionally detached… until he’s not — He acts like it’s just sex. Just dominance. But his hands never falter during aftercare, and the look in his eyes when you're falling asleep? That’s not nothing.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: Forced to kneel. Bent over with your hands tied behind your back. Restrained and denied until you sob.

Dirty talk level: 10/10 – Unholy Scriptures (Ice Edition)

“You’re lucky I even want you like this.” “Keep whining. That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” “Say you’re my toy. Say it, or you don’t get to cum.” “Beg properly. Or we start over.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Soft. Devastatingly so. He doesn’t speak much—just pulls you into his chest, covers you with the blanket (burrito style), and holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He’ll clean you up with quiet, precise movements, kiss the inside of your wrist like it’s instinct, and whisper only when he thinks you’re asleep:

“You did well. I’m proud of you.” And if you stir? He clears his throat and says, “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.” Because he will. He always is.

I.n // 아이엔

Soft-Spoken Power Dom | Sadistic Tease | Brat Tamer | Control Obsessed Core Archetype: Gentleman Sadist ⟡ Corruptor-in-Chief ⟡ Angel-Faced Devil Dom Vibe: “You can’t handle me. But I’m going to give it to you anyway.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Corruption kink — He lives for your firsts. First moan, first sob, first orgasm wrecked by him. “You’ve never done this before? Good. I’ll ruin you nicely.”

Brat taming (quiet but lethal) — You mouth off? He just smirks. Next thing you know, you’re tied down and begging. He doesn’t yell—he calculates.

Control kink (total) — He doesn’t just dominate—you become his choreography. Every angle, every movement, his choice.

Mocking degradation + obsession — “Look at you. Trying so hard to be good. It’s cute.” All said while kissing the tears off your cheeks.

Fear kink (light) — Not true fear—just that breath-catching, wide-eyed, holy-shit-what-did-he-just-say look he gets off on.

Chin-gripping + eye contact — He forces you to meet his eyes. "Don’t look away. I want to see every second of you breaking."

🔗 DOM STYLE

Silk-gloved sadism — He speaks soft. Touches slow. But everything he does is designed to destroy you. And you let him.

Emotionally loaded power play — He doesn’t say he loves you during scenes—but he looks at you like you’re sacred. And wrecks you like he can’t stand how much he cares.

Master of pacing — He can stretch one orgasm over an hour. And make you thank him for it.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: On your knees, chin tipped up by his fingers. Tied open on the bed as he circles like a predator. Bent over while he whispers filth directly into your ear.

Dirty talk level: 9.5/10 – Velvet Ruin with Sadistic Edge

“What’s wrong? You were so confident earlier.” “Keep shaking. It makes you feel tighter.” “You look beautiful like this—ruined, teary, mine.” “I don’t care if you beg. You don’t cum until I say.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Gentle. Reverent. Almost too tender—like he’s trying to make up for what he did to you. He wraps you in his arms, brushes your hair from your face, presses soft kisses to your skin. But he never apologizes.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you now.” His voice is the same one that destroyed you—except now it soothes. And somehow, that makes it even more dangerous.

[reimenaashelyee]

The Creator's Guide to Comics Devices is OPEN!!! comicsdevices.com

An online library of visual-narrative devices that are used in the medium of comics and other sequential art.

Happy Halloween! I'm really excited to be finally launching* what is maybe one of my most ambitious, largest work yet. This online library is the next phase of a research project that began in May 2020, when I first mused on how comics as a field doesn't have a resource that catalogues devices used in the medium. Like, theatre has devices, so does literature, and film! So why shouldn't comics? I always had an interest in comics studies and analysis. I love reading, making and thinking comics. However most of my knowledge was intuitive - I learned comics from osmosis and experience. This is true for many of my peers. Speaking about comics as a creator is hard, because we don't have a robust system of language. When we had to speak, many of us tend to reach for the language developed for film by film practitioners. If there is language specific to comics, it's either scattered in multiple blogs or hidden away in academic journals. The Comics Devices library is meant to aggregate everything and everybody into a single hub! After exploring some multiple resources, alongside some original, independent research, here is the first edition! * The Comics Devices project is still a work-in-progress! It's not final, nor will it ever be. This is why I am seeking contributors to help build this library. Translations, comics examples, etc. There is a lot of work to do! If you are interested, reply to this post or submit an expression of interest on this page.  Have fun everyone!! (Now time for me to melt x_x)

[withluvkay]

Your Life’s Not Boring—You’re Just on Your Phone Too Much

If you’ve been feeling glued to your phone—especially apps like TikTok and Instagram—you’re not alone. So many of us are stuck in this loop, and it can seriously mess with our energy, motivation, and overall health.

One thing I’ve struggled most with lately is comparison. Feeling like what I do just isn’t... enough. If you’ve felt that too, this post is for us both. A little reminder that:

✨ You are enough, just as you are. ✨ You’ve survived every hard day, and your inner child and I are so proud of you. Don't ever forget how far you've come as a person! If all you did was make your bed and hydrate today, that's a win worth celebrating. You're doing just fine, and you'll do all that you wish to on your own divine timing.

And yes, your life isn’t boring. You might just be too distracted to see how beautiful it really is. So instead of escaping it, let’s try to romanticize it!

10 Ways to Romanticize Your Life & Be More Present

Wake up a little earlier. It doesn’t have to be 5 AM (unless that’s your thing). Even an hour earlier can give you quiet time to get things done without distractions.

Take an "everything shower." These are pretty meditative for me in a way. I like to imagine the water washing off all my stress and stagnant energy I may have accumulated throughout the day. Like a reset button!

Make a breakfast you’d actually get out of bed early for. Pancakes? Fruit? Whatever makes your inner child happy.

Play jazz or soft instrumentals while doing everyday activities. Instant cozy vibes.

Read outside. Sitting on your porch or even by a window gives you that vitamin D and a fresh perspective.

Find a screen-less hobby you enjoy. Try crochet, painting, poetry, LEGO kits, pottery, etc. Block-building kits are my fave—they’re so fun and satisfying. Just remember to take breaks and stretch!

Re-watch something comforting or start something new. That show you keep skipping past might become your next obsession.

Connect. If you’ve been stuck in your room all day, talk to someone. Call a friend, hug your pet, or chat with family. A quick convo with my mom always boosts my mood!

Learn something new! When was the last time you went out of your way to explore something you didn’t already know? (and nope, school doesn’t count.) Take a moment to find a subject you’ve never looked into or dive deeper into one you already know a little about. Pick up on a new language, study an unfamiliar culture, or even try learning a random skill just for fun. Expanding your mind keeps life feeling fresh and exciting.

Travel (if you can). I can't stress this one enough!! Even just getting out of town for a single 24 hours can give you a whole new perspective. A change of scenery does wonders, especially when life feels repetitive. It doesn't have to be far, either. You can travel to the next city over and explore what it's like there!

Remember: Social media is NOT real life. That influencer who’s always partying in Miami with a closet full of designer bags? You’re seeing their highlight reel, not the full picture. Some even goes as far as faking luxury lifestyles for the views. Don’t compare your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s curated feed. At the end of the day, it's all for the aesthetics/entertainment.

Be gentle with yourself. You're doing better than you think, angel. xo, Kay 🪽

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSTAY WITH ME WHILE I SHOWER? * MATT STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N can't take a shower alone after watching supernatural videos, and now Matt has to stay with her in the bathroom.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　No.

WARNINGS　::　Mentions of supernatural.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I had this idea yesterday after spending the whole day listening to supernatural stories and making my best friend stay on FaceTime with me while I showered 😭

The bathroom was filled with the sound of rushing water, steam curling against the mirror, making everything look hazy and soft. Y/N stood beneath the shower, arms wrapped around herself, shampoo barely lathered in her hair. Her heart pounded just a little too fast, and her mind raced with the worst possible scenarios.

She knew - knew - this was her own fault. Matt had told her so many times that watching scary videos late at night, alone, with the lights off, would mess with her head. But did she listen?

No.

Because she loved that eerie, spine-tingling feeling. The adrenaline rush. The way she’d clutch her blanket and gasp when Sam and Colby on YouTube suddenly heard something, or the guys who explored abandoned places on TikTok suddenly saw something.

It was all fun and games until she was here, alone in the shower, vulnerable, eyes closed, and suddenly convinced that if she dared to tilt her head back and rinse the shampoo out, she’d open her eyes to see something - someone - standing in the corner of the bathroom.

Her stomach dropped.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

She blinked, body rigid, the water running down her back, making her shiver despite the heat. Her mind was running wild. What if she wasn't alone in here? What if something was watching her right now, peeking from behind the steam in her shower door like in those cursed Reddit stories?

Nope.

Panic bubbled up in her chest. And before she could second-guess herself, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled.

"MATT!"

In the living room, Matt was sprawled on the middle of the couch, manspreading, one arm slung over his stomach. Nick sat beside him while Chris was practically hanging off the side of the couch, eyes glued to the TV. They were watching some random movie chosen by Nick, and Matt was only half paying attention.

At least, until Y/N’s scream ripped through the house.

His whole body jolted.

"What the-"

Nick and Chris both turned their heads toward the hall that led to Matt's bathroom.

Chris smirked, looking at Nick.

"Bet you fifty bucks she forgot her towel again."

Nick huffed out a laugh.

"Easiest money of my life."

"MATT!"

Matt was already getting up.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm coming!"

Chris called after him.

"If it’s the towel, tell her she owes me fifty bucks!"

Matt ignored him, crossing the small space between the living room and their bathroom in a couple of steps. The door was shut, steam curling out from the crack beneath it.

Matt pushed it open a little, peeking his head inside while keeping his body outside.

The steam made his hair frizz slightly as he squinted through the haze, his eyes finding Y/N standing under the shower, arms hugging herself.

His brows furrowed.

"Babe? You good? You need a towel or something?"

Y/N’s eyes darted to him, and her voice came through, desperate.

"Can you come in here?"

Matt frowned deeper.

"What?"

"Matt, please."

With a sigh, he finally pushed the door open fully, stepping inside and closing it behind him.

The heat hit him immediately, steam wrapping around his body as he turned to face the shower properly.

And there she was.

Standing directly under the water, arms still clutching herself, her hair up, full of white bubbles from her shampoo, looking at him like he was her last hope for survival.

Matt blinked.

"Angel, what the hell are you doing?"

Y/N let out a frustrated whine.

"I’m scared!"

Matt squinted.

"Scared? Of what?"

"Something is watching me!"

A beat of silence.

Then, he snorted.

"Oh my God."

Y/N groaned, stomping one foot on the shower floor.

"Matt, I’m serious! I can’t even close my eyes to rinse my hair! I swear there's eyes everywhere."

Matt was grinning now, crossing his arms as he leaned against the marble sink, watching her like she was the most ridiculous person he’d ever seen.

"I told you not to watch that shit."

Y/N pouted.

"I know."

Matt’s grin widened.

"But you just had to, huh?"

She huffed, turning away from him dramatically.

"Shut up."

Matt shook his head, still very much amused, before sighing and plopping down on the closed toilet seat.

"Alright, go on. Shower. I’ll sit here so the demons don’t get you."

Y/N’s whole body relaxed instantly, turning the front of her body to face him again, smiling softly.

"Thank you."

Matt leaned forward, elbows on his knees, still grinning like an idiot.

"Can't believe you're literally scared of shampooing your hair. This is crazy."

She shot him a glare, grabbing her vanilla-scented shampoo bottle and squirting some more into her palm.

"I hate you."

Matt chuckled.

"No, you don't."

She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I really do."

"Mhm."

She rubbed her palms to spread the product, finally closing her eyes, but before she could reach for her hair again, she peeked at Matt one last time. Just to make sure he was still there.

And he was.

Sitting on the toilet seat, arms crossed, bright blue eyes eyeing her like she was the most ridiculous, adorable, overdramatic person in the world.

And maybe she was.

But at least now, she could wash her hair in peace.

© vanteguccir

[jayparked]

miscommunication - heeseung's version

PAIRING: best friend heeseung x female reader WORD COUNT: 2.1k GENRE: crack, smut ; mdni AU: best friends to lovers(finally) WARNINGS: unprotected sex, dirty talk, strong language, nipple play, creampie SNAIL TRAIL: i decided to go about this different than how i originally planned so here is all of heeseung's texts AND his written part! thank you to @sungbeams and @dazzlingjaeyun for looking over this and thank you to all my tickets in the jayparked's garage discord server💛 to get updates and previews on my work before they get posted, join here(18+)

♡ ot7 texts part one ; part two ; part three ; part four ; part five ; part six ; part seven; part eight ♡ ♡ heeseung ; jay ; jake ; sunghoon ; sunoo ; jungwon ; riki ���

You hear a rapid thundering of feet coming up the stairs towards your bedroom, but the sound stops right at the top. It’s hard not to laugh to yourself when you hear a soft knock on your door, picturing Heeseung collecting himself to not appear as eager as he probably is.

You sit up on your bed, still completely naked, and walk towards the door. It’s hard not to feel nervous, self doubt running rampant throughout your mind. You and Heeseung have been friends for such a long time, but you’ve been denying your feelings for him for just as long. It was hard to deny your crush for so long, but what kept you strong was the thought that someone like Lee Heeseung could never like someone average like you. So you were comfortable with just being his friend, doing everything you could to shove those feelings deep down. Years went by and the two of you became closer than ever. So close, in fact, that he was your emergency contact at work. And then you sent that stupid text that changed everything.

You thought he was just joking around at first, making fun of you even. But as more typos arose (some mistakes and some intentional), it was hard to convince yourself that he was merely messing around.

The doorknob is cold against your palm when you turn it.

You brace yourself to greet your friend, but before you can fully open your mouth, Heeseung’s large hands are cupping your face, his quivering lips inches from yours.

“Please tell me you meant it,” he whispers, thumbs brushing against your cheeks lightly, “please tell me you’re sure.”

Mouth dropping open slightly, the words don’t seem to want to come out. Seeing Heeseung’s hooded gaze and feeling the warmth of his hands against your skin is overwhelming. You used to dream of this, used to spend countless hours during the days and nights wondering what it would be like to be in a moment with him such as this.

Even though you’re naked in front of him, Heeseung’s eyes never leave yours and that small detail has your entire body feeling warm, a sense of comfort blooming in your chest. It’s enough for your voice to finally come back to you.

“Yes-” You don’t even get a chance to say ‘please’ like you were planning. Heeseung’s lips are against yours in a deep, passionate kiss. It’s slow and deliberate at first, the two of you finally exploring one another. Heeseung is savoring the feeling, getting lost in the way you sigh against his mouth. One of his hands pushes back into your hair, tugging slightly while the other moves down to your waist, pulling you closer. 

Despite the urgency between you two, Heeseung’s touch remains gentle, cherishing how it feels to have your bare skin in his grasp. With a groan, Heeseung pulls away from you and finally allows his eyes to wander over your body. 

“Wow,” he exhales, taking one of your hands and holding it above your head and spinning you around. Your eyes widen, suddenly feeling very aware of how clothed he is versus yourself. Plus, you’ve never had someone spin you around to gawk at you like this before. You feel the heat rise to your face so you quickly fold into yourself, covering your embarrassment with your hands. 

“Hey,” Heeseung places his hand under your chin to lift your gaze back on him, “there’s no need to be shy. You look amazing — even better than I ever imagined. You’re so beautiful.” He leans forward and leaves a soft trail of kisses from your jawline to your nose, pulling you closer to him again. The scent of his citrusy cologne makes you sigh, gripping his shirt sleeves as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Heeseung continues to kiss your skin, now on your shoulders and it feels so good. Your mind can’t process anything else other than how hot his lips feel against your body and how every cell within you seems to be dancing. This must be what TV static feels like and oh, is it addicting. Yet, at the same time, it feels like you’re starting to drown.

“Heeseung,” you moan, pushing him away gently to catch your breath. His eyes are hooded and dark with lust, his fingers still gripping your waist desperately. He nods his head at you, urging you to continue your sentence. But his eye contact is so intense you lose your thoughts completely. So, instead of attempting to fumble over some improved words, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him with you back towards your bed.

Heeseung chuckles lowly under his breath, letting you lead him as you please. He bites his bottom lip and just when the back of your legs are about to hit your bed, Heeseung hoists you up and throws you onto the bed, a soft gasp leaving your lips. Before your body can even settle into your comforter, Heeseung is leaning over you with one knee in between your legs.

“Did you ever say if you prepped yourself or not?” Heeseung licks his lips again, his gaze roaming over your body. You shake your head no, making Heeseung tsk. “And I was so ready to just eat you up. I guess I’ll play with you for a bit.”

You hiss as you feel Heeseung’s fingers slip between your folds, gathering your slick in a circular motion before inserting a digit into your hole. His mouth falls open in pleasurable surprise as you open your own to moan, arching your back as he pistons his finger in and out of you. “Oh, look at you, wow.” Heeseung takes his free hand and places it onto one of your knees to spread your legs further apart, cooing at you in awe at the sounds your body is making in response to his touch. 

You’re grasping onto Heeseung’s biceps for dear life, not yet completely taken over by bliss. Because at this moment you’re really irritated that he’s still fully clothed. 

Seeing your furrowed brows and pout, Heeseung frowns and slows his movement. “Am I not doing this right?”

Panicking, you reach up and cusp his face, “No, no! I just-”

“You just what?”

“You’re not naked.”

A devilish smirk blooms on Heeseung’s face as he stops his movements completely, sitting upright. He massages his hands against your knees and although he appears confident and in control, you don’t miss the blush freckling his cheeks. 

“You want me naked?” He moves his hands to grasp the end of his shirt, looking like he’s about to take it off but holds his stance instead. One eyebrow raises up at you, waiting for your response before moving forward.

“Yes,” you huff, “please.”

“Saying please,” Heeseung continues his smirk, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes, “you’re already so good to me.” In one fluid motion Heeseung removes his shirt and tosses it to the side, moving quickly to unbutton his pants. If it were any other moment, Heeseung would have probably teased you more, taking his time to remove his pants and maybe just leave his pants on and unbuttoned while he plays with your pussy some more. But he can’t deny it, his patience is thin and he’s been waiting for this moment for far too long to put it off any longer.

A slight gasp leaves your lips as Heeseung pushes his pants and boxers down his legs, his cock springing out. He’s already painfully hard, a bead of precum visible on his tip. Kicking his pants to the side, Heeseung palms at himself, moving back to his spot between your legs. “This what you want?” Heeseung grunts with satisfaction at your nodding head, mouth open and eyes wide as you shamelessly stare at his body.

Your heart is racing unbelievably fast and you can’t help but feel like this might be some twistedly realistic dream your brain has concocted. But when you feel the tip of Heeseung cock slide up and down your folds, bumping against your clit before he pushes his length inside you, you know that there’s no way your brain could come up with a feeling quite like this on its own. 

You sigh when Heeseung bottoms out, his own breathing haggard. Taking a moment, Heeseung adjusts your legs so that they’re hooked around his waist, kissing one of your knees briefly as he sets it in place.

“God,” he hisses, “you’re so tight. You needed this? Needed to be fucked by me?” He starts to move his hips, slightly pulling himself out before slamming back in. All you can muster is a weak whimper, but Heeseung isn’t happy with that.

“Use your words, let me hear your pretty voice.” Heeseung flicks a thumb over your nipple before grasping your tits in his hands, squeezing as he pounds into you. The dual stimulation has your eyes rolling back; how can he expect you to make complete sentences when it feels like your body is levitating in pleasure?

Still, you try.

“Y-ye-yes! Ne-eeded you so baaaad.” You moan loudly when he adjusts his hips slightly, rolling your nipple between two fingers as he quickens his pace. He moans with you, eyes focused on the way your mouth falls open with his name spilling past your lips in a fervent cry.

“You must have thought it was so funny to mess with me for so long, huh? Thought it was funny to get me all riled up? You like messing with my head? Fuck, keep clenching me like that it feels so good when you do that.” Heeseung is rambling, speaking unbelievably fast the more he thrusts into you. The knot in your stomach tightens and you can feel the brink of your orgasm about to snap. 

Heeseung is still muttering about all the typos you’ve sent him and what it did to him, but all you can focus on is the way his hips start to stutter, his pace faltering, so you interrupt him with one last request.

“Come inside me,” you gasp out quickly.

“W-what?” Heeseung’s thrusts stutter, his brain dizzy with your words. 

“I’m about to come, please come inside me.” Your head falls back, it’s getting more difficult to hang onto your sanity when your body desperately wants to release.

“Fuck. You can’t say shit like that, Y/n.” Heeseung flicks at your nipples again, his thrusts gaining new momentum as he chases his high. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Heeseung moans out with one final hard thrust, spilling into you just as your orgasm hits.

A few more languid pumps is all Heeseung can muster before pulling out of you, moving his body down so he can watch his seed spill from your hole. You can feel his heavy breath against your skin, making your shudders feel more violent as you come down from your high. 

Chuckling, Heeseung spreads your legs wider, watching his cum spill down onto the bedding. “Wow. That was a lot.” He looks up at you finally and sees the way your chest is still heaving as you try to catch your breath. Quickly moving back up the bed, Heeseung turns your body so your back is flushed against his chest, pulling you closer to him in a tight embrace. Gentle kisses flutter across your skin as Heeseung murmurs soft praises to you, holding you close enough that you can feel his heartbeat against your back. 

“You’re mine now,” Heeseung grumbles into your neck, nuzzling against your hair and letting out a soft sigh of relief. 

Smacking his arm lightly without turning to look at him, you giggle at him, “You can’t say stuff like that!”

“But you are,” Heeseung pouts, his grip on you tightening, “‘m not letting you go now.”

Turning to face him, you can’t help but smile at his sleepy face, nudging your nose against his. “I guess I can be okay with that.”

With his eyes closed, Heeseung kisses your forehead, rubbing his hand lazily up and down your back. “Good. Cause I’ve wanted this for a while now.”

You smile to yourself, placing a hand against Heeseung’s warm cheek. You watch as he drifts to sleep, his eyelashes fluttering slightly with each exhale. A part of you wants to wake him up and finally tell him just how much you’ve been wanting this too. But, for now, you’ll savor this moment being in his arms, thankful for every stupid text you accidentally sent him.

♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 03/23/25 do not copy, repost, or translate. if you're inspired to create something similar to my work, please credit me

[allfearstofallto]

Can you imagine Sylus, who I consider to be the one who's love language is physical touch, with someone who just isn't physically affectionate?

Not that you don't like him, you're just not as touchy feely as he is. Maybe you grew up in environment that was more reserved, one where every touch had to have meaning. So you never did anything as rash as hug or kiss someone without a reason.

Sylus respects this. He respects everything about you. He understands why you are the way you are and knows that you can't help it, but he's growing desperate. He'll never force anything onto you that you don't want. He approaches you the way he would an actual kitten, starting with the tips of his fingers and seeing if you allow it before sinking into the feeling of you.

You don't touch without reason, Sylus remembers that. So he makes sure there's a reason for everything that he does. When he holds your hands, squeezing them in his larger ones, he brings them up to his chest, letting you feel the way his heart beats for you. When he peppers your face in soft passionate kisses, his lips will find your ear, where he'll whisper affectionate words of love, yearning, and adoration. His hands only touch your hips when he wants to pick you up. He plays with strands of your hair before styling it. All this because he respects your wishes.

Touch him of your own volition and he's over the moon, but he won't show such a thing on his face. Maybe a little smirk, but nothing more. And he'll never rush you, never make you touch him in the way he desperately desires to be touched. He lets you explore and discover his body, let's you find the places where your hands fit best. Anywhere your fingers graze him is good enough for him anyways.

"Having fun down there?" He'll ask, voice low and rich, but trembling with a bit of excitement.

"Hm?" You look up from your phone, only to notice you've rested your head against his shoulder. "I guess," you say, rather nonchalantly with a shrug, and your eyes are back on your screen.

He adjusts so that your head is against his chest, instead of his shoulder. His arm snakes around your waist, it's for your comfort, he tells himself, that's the reason for this action, but he can't deny the fact that his fingers are just mindlessly trailing up and down his hip. And your hand, you've rested it against his sternum, it a warm touch to his heart.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, a soft sound that you barely notice. You're both touching without a reason.

[seven-gill]

In the process of cementing my Tsunami design. She’s fun to draw, but I am ✨ struggling ✨to nail it down.

Here are some early concepts. One exploring colors, and the other facial features. I want her to be a deep blue, paired with hints of aquamarine, but these colors weren’t dark enough for me.

These colors are closer to what I have in mind, but are a bit washed out. I also like her face in this one.

The other thing I wanted to get right were her shape language and specific bodily features. The left image was an attempt to sketch out her full body. She’s described as sleek, so I wanted to incorporate smooth flowing shapes, while also giving her an athletic body. She’s big and strong, but not as burly as Clay. Tsunami is also described as having a long neck, but that part keeps kicking me in the shin because I can’t make it look right. I think the rightmost image is closer to what I envision for her: a longish neck, and a sleek and sturdy body. I’m also struggling to find the right balance with her face. I want her to have a large snout, a square jawline, and large round eyes, but sometimes the snout looks a little too big for my liking, or the proportions are off and she ends up looking younger than I want her to be.

These two images were meant to explore some of her whorl/wave patterns. They have been the hardest thing to figure out, and I still haven’t settled on anything,

Here’s to hoping I can figure it out. I think it’ll come down to mishmashing my favorite sketches together.

(Can you tell that I keep drawing over the same sketch tee hee)

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 18

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, hints at jjpope, cursed chat pics, mention of abusive household (aka rafe's), hints at reader getting turned on lmao, gentleman!rafe, reader one sec away from hyperventilating, slightly jealous!reader, awkward!rafe (um.. you'll see why), also FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ after rafe dropped you off at the beach, cara dragged you to meet sarah, kiara and cleo. everyone was nice, though kiara questioned what was going on with you and rafe. in the restroom of bob's iceshack, cara admitted she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hook up with jj. your conclusion: she was torn between him and topper. later, rafe texted saying he saw sarah’s story and wanted to pick you up an hour later. after some back and forth, you agreed on 7:30pm. still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was suddenly so eager. after hanging out with the pogues for a while, you dipped. john b offered a ride for tomorrow’s open air movie night. back in rafe’s car, he called them losers but backed off when you questioned it. after some pushing, he finally admitted he felt like everyone was choosing sarah over him. you tried to reassure him and concluded (internally) that ward cameron was the root for his issues. during your late night drive you got mcdonald’s, and finally, he dropped you off with a surprise: a my little pony bracelet from a gas station to prove he wasn’t playing you. in bed, you showed the bracelet to the girls in the new group chat. last surprise of the day: the mirror selfie from rafe aka the same one you’d stared at earlier.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 13.5k+ (longest chapter yet help + max use of chat screenshots so prepare for a LONG reading session)

✿ A / N ✿ GUYS I TRIED WITH THIS ONE BUT i kinda feel like the second half sucks, and also it feels extremely rushed if we take the pace of the other days of the week into consideration but well guess it wouldn't have made sense to drag out sunday for no reason. i also feel like i fucked up the ending by the direction i've chosen but i kinda gave up lmao. i probably could've explored the full potential of this setting and, IDK AHHHH. dw there's gonna be a part 2 of the event. anyway, have fun reading and PLEASE lmk what you think, this chapter gave me sm anxiety <3

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a little warning: avoid the comment section bc of spoilers 🤣

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W E E K O N E // S U N D A Y 1 1 : 1 7 A M

"Okay, where did we leave off again?" you asked Cara as you made yourself comfortable in your little windowsill nook. "My brain is so full, I can’t keep track of anything anymore."

Cara chuckled. "Oh, I know exactly what it’s full of. Mr. ‘Let me give the girl I like a friendship bracelet so it’s not too obvious that I’m completely down bad for her.’"

A giggle slipped out and your cheeks instantly flushed. "You're gonna lose it when I tell you this next part."

“She’s already losing it,” came a voice, and your heart dropped to your stomach.

OH MY GOD, now that you saw the wall behind Cara… NO WAY. GIRL ACTUALLY SPENT THE NIGHT IN JJS WONDERLAND OMGGGG.

Cara scoffed, amused, and turned her phone to show JJ pulling a shirt over his very bare chest. You were so glad he at least had boxers on.

“Say hi and get out,” she said.

JJ looked up with a “Hey, my room,” and winked into the camera with a big-ass grin when he spotted you. “She’s even louder in bed.”

Too. Much. Information.

You just stared, stunned, and gave him an awkward little smile.

Cara rolled her eyes and turned the phone back to her face. “Chop chop, Dig’s waiting for his morning walk.”

“Not sure the leash’s even usable anymore.”

GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Cara stared flatly into the camera. “He's joking.”

OKAY THEN.

“Okay, okay. The leash only almost came into play,” JJ called out, followed by a loud “Hey!” as Cara threw a pillow at him.

“Out. Now. This is a girl-to-girl talk,” she said. “Village idiots not allowed.”

JJ chuckled. “More of a jester anyway.”

Then came a soft thud, which you took as him finally leaving the room.

“Okay, where were we?” Cara looked into the camera with a blinking smile.

You blinked back. “So, I guess, you don’t wanna—”

“Nope.”

“Aight.”

Cara cleared her throat. “Sooo, the last update I got from you and Loverboy is basically just what you'd said in your voice memo last night. He brought your bag back, then you guys spent the afternoon together. He dropped you off, picked you back up later, and by the end of the night practically proposed, right?”

Um… something like that.

You’d obviously left out a lot in that memo. As sweet and welcoming as the Pogue girls were, you’d literally only known them for a day, and you didn’t exactly feel comfy going full overshare just yet. And considering one of them was Rafe’s sister, you weren’t gonna bring up his little hate-rant about her or start gossiping about him behind his back.

But Cara was different. She was your best friend. You could tell her everything.

And you did. You told her about lunch with your parents, your trip to Bulk & Bloom and Barry’s pawn shop, your full-on spiral that you and Rafe had talked through in the car, and of course your evening trip to McDonald's and how he'd walked you to the front door like a freaking gentleman.

You did leave out his angsty little moment in the car, though. He’d opened up to you so honestly, you didn’t want to betray that trust. Plus, it felt… special. Like something just for the two of you.

But the important stuff? Oh, you shared that.

Your parents basically already adopting him, Barry’s well-meant warning, OH and obviously the insanely awkward moment when Rafe had caught you scrolling through his chat with Kelce.

AND OF COURSE, the most insane, messed-up, crazy thing he’d said: that you were a cute chick and he’d (quote) bend you over in the backseat of his car if you said the word.

“WHAT!?”

Your phone speaker peaked just a little.

You chuckled, cheeks flushed. “Well, yeah, he—”

“WHAT?”

Another laugh escaped your mouth. Cara stared at you, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you’d just told her Harry Styles invited you to his private villa.

“GIRL, I—” She exhaled like she’d just sprinted a marathon. “I don’t even… holy fucking shit, like, oh my Jesus Christ, good Lord and all the heavens above.”

When Cara started praying, you knew shit was actually insane.

You giggled. “Now imagine what was going on in my head. The fact I managed to function after that is honestly one of the seven wonders of the world.”

"The fact that you didn’t immediately jump him and rip his clothes off—that is the miracle," she shot back, still staring at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. "I MEAN WHAT? Like, my kitty would’ve gone straight to—"

“OKAY!”

Cara shook her head like a madwoman. “Y/N! That boy is so down bad for you, how do you not see it?” She sighed, shaking her phone. “Like HELLO? Rafe Cameron said out loud that he’s into you.”

"Sexual attraction and having a crush are two completely different things," you argued.

Cara frowned dramatically. “How oblivious do you wanna be? Yes.” You heard frantic tapping sounds as she smashed at her screen. “He gifted you a fucking bracelet. Rafe Cameron. The guy who’s known for doing absolutely nothing for any girl, like, ever. What more do you need? He said you’re cute. He said he likes you. He said he ENJOYS spending time with you. And what else? OH RIGHT, that he wants to hang out even after your little project dates are over AND THAT HE WANTS TO CLAP YOUR CHEEKS.” She shook her head like she was malfunctioning. “THIS SCREAMS GET READY TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND.”

Did it?

UM, YEAH, KINDA DID.

Fucking hell, Cara could really make even the most chaotic shit sound like it followed cold, hard logic.

But here's the thing: Rafe was a direct guy. If he had no problem saying he’d sleep with you, surely he wouldn’t have a problem saying he was into you like that (hypothetically speaking, of course).

Which kind of threw her whole argument out the window again.

You shook your head. “This sounds more like, ‘I’ve never had a female friend before, and now that I do, guess I’m gonna keep her around.’”

“So you do realize he wants you,” Cara replied.

You let out a tired sigh. “Yeah, I guess, but not like that. I don’t know how to explain it… I just think he likes the idea of having a girl around.” You tilted your head. “Like with Topper and Kelce, he’s this kinda toxic-bro-masculine-alpha type. And I guess he misses the fun flirty energy." Then you remembered his emotional outburst last night. “And I feel like with me, he also doesn’t put on a front. I don’t know.”

Cara stared you down, deadpan. “That is literally the ideal foundation for a relationship.”

“Or for a really good friendship,” you countered.

How were you supposed to explain to her that this poor boy probably just wanted someone to see him for who he really was? Like, the frustration he let out last night—the way he basically admitted, without saying it directly, that he was scared of being abandoned.

And that could always happen in a relationship. In a short-term hookup? Inevitable. But a good friend? Ideally, that was someone you could have for life. And the fact you were a girl—just a side note in the whole equation.

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.” Cara rolled her eyes. “So what you’re telling me is, he puts in all this effort just so he can call you his friend and still flirt for fun? Make it make sense.”

"Yeah, but, C," you said with a chuckle. "That's literally how our friendship works too. We both put effort into each other, that’s what friends do, and don’t even get me started on the flirting. Like according to your logic, I should question your intentions as well."

Cara curled her lips. "... okay, you kinda have a point there."

You nodded with a See? look on your face.

"But," she continued, "we’re girl best friends. You and him? That’s a whole different thing."

You raised an amused brow. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that a guy and a girl can’t have a platonic relationship?"

Cara scowled. "No, of course not, but—"

"But I’m okay with the way it is," you said with a soft smile. "I have no problem with just being friends with Rafe. Honestly, it might even be better this way. I don’t have to worry about screwing it up, or God," you chuckled nervously, "all my other insecurities."

Cara let out a sigh. “You really are the biggest mystery to me, girl. You’ve been crushing on this guy since fifth grade. And now, when you finally have the chance to actually make something happen, like, he’s literally offering you the perfect foundation, you just settle for the easiest option.”

Less risk of being disappointed. Less chance of embarrassing yourself. Less chance to lose whatever it was you two had built in just a few days. Accepting Rafe as a friend was the easy choice, yeah, but it was also the safest.

But you knew exactly what Cara would say to that: she’d start pushing you to take a chance, make a move, break out of your shell for once.

"Okay, look at it this way," you said with a playful eye roll. "A relationship can always grow from a friendship. Does that help?"

You doubted that would actually happen, but at least it would shut Cara up for now.

She chuckled and wiggled her shoulders. "Friends to lovers? Uhh, now you got me." She raised her eyebrows with a lopsided grin. "So… does that also apply to us, orrrr…?"

You quickly steered the conversation back to her. More specifically her evening with the Pogues, dinner at the Chateau later on, and eventually the magical night she had with JJ. Kiara, Pope, and Cleo had left at some point, leaving just Cara, John B, Sarah, and JJ behind.

The exact details and noises from that night, however, Cara could gladly keep to herself.

Anyway, her dad called a little later to tell her to come home—her grandparents were visiting to celebrate her mom’s birthday belatedly. With a quick "Oh shit, we’ll text later", your little call came to an end.

You’d barely touched the ground with your feet, just getting off your windowsill corner and ready to change out of your sleepwear into something actually wearable, when your phone buzzed again.

And what greeted you? Yeah…

Geez, it wasn’t even noon and your pulse was already at 180.

First Cara fueling your delusions, then Rafe and his newfound hobby (or more like obsession) with your reaction pics (UM THE FACT THAT HE'D DOWNLOADED PINTEREST FOR IT???) and how he instantly went into full-attack mode just at the mention of you being in the girlies’ group chat, like bro, we get it, you’re terrified of abandonment but PLEASE CALM DOWN I AIN'T GOING NOWHERE. And then back to Cara, aka the fact that you’d now have to endure the drive to the open air event without her.

Honestly, that last part was the least of your worries because if you'd managed to survive half of Kelce’s party solo (okay, with Topper, Molly, and Rob), then you could totally handle a short car ride.

No, what really had you spiraling was how comfortable Rafe had gotten with you in just one day. Like, hello? First the mirror selfie last night, and then those reaction pics this morning (okay, more like noon, oops), AND THEN THE FACT THAT HE STRAIGHT UP ADMITTED (or hopefully joked) that he'd had a little private session this morning, DUDE COME ON.

HELP AND THE FACT THAT THAT SENT YOU INTO INSTANT BRAIN CINEMA MODE OF A HALF NAKED, HEAVY BREATHING RAFE, BOXERS AROUND HIS ANKLES, EYES CLOSED, HEAD PRESSED BACK INTO THE PILLOW OR DESK CHAIR (WHO KNEW), HAND AROUND HIS—NOPENOPENOPENOPEHELPPP

Jesus Christ, suddenly there was a tingling sensation in your lower body and the urgent need to open the windows to cool your body down because your cheeks? On fucking fire. Not even mentioning the heart rate and that warm, funny feeling between your—OKAY ENOUGH HOLY SHIT.

You gotta be ovulating or something because that? What the actual fuck.

HAHAHAHHAA ANYWAY.

Lunch.

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"How's Rafe?" That was one of the first questions your dad asked once you all sat down in the dining room.

Great. Not even here you could escape the topic.

To make things worse, both your mom and dad were giving you this smirky look that screamed You were out late last night: Should we be getting excited about our future son-in-law?

UGHHH. It was so awkward, and if you even dared to give a shy smile or deflect it, it would only make everything ten times worse.

So you just shrugged and poured yourself a glass of water. “He’s doing okay, I think.”

Your dad let out an amused breath. “And his cheek? That looked pretty nasty yesterday. He should’ve iced it right away, then it wouldn’t have swollen like that.”

Trust me, I told him.

“Yeah, it looks worse than it is,” you said, adding, “he popped an ibuprofen yesterday.”

He had, actually. Swallowed it right in the McDonald’s parking lot with a Coke Zero. Like seriously, how was this guy even still alive?

You half expected them to hit you with a “You two were gone a long time—what exactly were you doing?” or some other nosy questions. But instead, the energy at the table shifted.

Your mom raised her brows slightly, concern (???) flickering in her expression. “And… at home? Is everything okay there too?”

um… what.

Your dad seemed to catch the confusion on your face. “It’s just, we've been wondering...” he let out a dry chuckle, “I’ve seen bruises, cracked ribs, busted faces—pretty much everything—my whole career. And that bruise? If he’d actually been hit with a golf club, I probably would've been patching him up in the ER Friday night.”

Oh. So your dad had seen right through Rafe's lie.

Well, of course, he had. Taking care of people was his job. He had to know the difference between different kinds of wounds and bruises.

But from the way your parents were hinting at it… did they actually think Rafe was getting hit at home? That was… wow.

But telling them what really happened aka Rafe almost starting a fight—you really didn’t want to paint him in that light. Didn’t matter that he’d stood up for you.

“No idea,” you said, furrowing your brows as you poked around your plate. “I think things are fine at home too.”

Your mom tilted her head with a soft smile. “But you don’t know for sure?”

Your overthinking, spiraling, constantly-needing-answers issue? Mhm, yeah, you definitely got that from her.

“No, I mean, I barely know him,” you replied. “Are you seriously thinking he’s getting abused at home or something?”

Then again… okay, you didn’t know Ward personally, but something in your gut told you there was something off about him. Especially after the realization you'd had last night: Him probably being the root of Rafe’s issues.

Your dad leaned back. “Well, speaking as a dad, I’ve got a feeling there’s tension at home. I’m not accusing Ward of hitting his kids, I’m just guessing Rafe’s relationship with him is… strained.” He shifted in his seat. “And my gut? It’s never been wrong.”

O-kay. So apparently your parents had picked up on the same thing after interacting with Rafe once. Wow.

“Ward’s always been a difficult person,” your mom added. “Back in college, he was super ambitious, driven, competitive. Always pushing. Expecting the best results from himself and everyone around him. And anyone who held him back or got in his way? Didn’t stay in his way for long.”

Obviously he hadn’t killed anyone, so you just assumed he either threatened, manipulated, or schemed his way around people.

Your mom sighed. “And truth is, I know Rafe’s not exactly an easy kid. Rose told me he often takes off for hours and doesn’t come home until midnight. And school? Apparently not going so great either.”

Something about talking about Rafe behind his back like this… it just didn’t feel right.

“Rose isn’t his mother, though.” Shit. What a dumb thing to say.

Your mom furrowed her brows. “She tries to be. It’s not easy for someone like her to reach someone like Rafe.”

"Someone like him? "You raised your brows.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? And why were you suddenly feeling so defensive, HELP.

“Y/n,” your dad’s voice was gentle but firm. “Rafe seems like a good boy, I’m not doubting that. But it just feels like… something’s off. And the most likely explanation is that things at home aren’t exactly stable.”

He pressed his lips together, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “I’m not trying to accuse Ward of anything or scare you, but… when I wanted to check the skin on Rafe’s cheek, he flinched when I raised my hand to do so. Not a dramatic reaction, just this quick startled blink, but in my head, every alarm bell went off.”

And that made your heart clench in the worst, most painful way.

Sure, maybe your dad had misread a harmless blink or twitch but deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. And the thought that Rafe might actually be getting hit by his own dad… GOSH, THIS BOY.

Drug problems, anger issues, and a toxic household? This guy didn’t need a girlfriend, he needed a loving family.

No. He needed a real dad.

“That doesn’t mean the bruise had to have come from home,” your dad continued, and his tone softened a little. “Honestly, I just assume he got into some testosterone-fueled fight at whatever party you were at.” He chuckled. “Thinking back to the way I used to look after I boxed with the guys from the 44th… that bruise is practically a scratch.”

Not your dad just casually dropping new lore.

Your mom rolled her eyes, mock-annoyed, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile. “I was the one who had to play nurse back then.”

OKAY NOPE YOU DID NOT LIKE THAT SMILEY LOOK ON HER FACE. DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT.

Luckily, your dad circled back to the actual point: “We’re just concerned. We’re both parents—we notice when something’s off with a kid. As a doctor who’s seen lots of children with seemingly perfect parents, I can tell you: eyes never lie. And Ward may be a great family man, but that doesn’t automatically make him a great father.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Abuse can show up in so many ways, not just physically. So if you ever notice anything, please don’t hesitate to come to us, okay?”

Well, this sunny Sunday just got very not sunny, very fast. Like… how did we go from “How’s your hopefully-soon-to-be boyfriend?” to child abuse—HELLO??

You didn’t even know what to say.

You were touched by their concern, the way they weren’t judging Rafe in the slightest. But also overwhelmed by how heavy the topic had just gotten. Sure, your parents did always notice this kind of thing right away but now that your suspicions had basically been confirmed by them...

Yeah, that didn’t sit well with you at all.

Of course, none of you really knew what was going on in the Cameron household. But if all of you had arrived at roughly the same conclusion, then either you were all operating on the same overthinking, assume-the-worst type of brain…

Or something was actually going on.

Both, you thought bitterly.

So all you did was nod with a somewhat forced smile and said, “Okay.”

Your parents nodded, seemingly relieved. And of course, since you were already on the topic of Rafe, they circled back to yesterday. Asking questions like, “So where did you guys go afterward?”, “How’s your school project coming along?”, “Did Cara give you that cute bracelet?” and dropping comments like, “He seemed very smiley around you,” and “Feel free to invite him over for dinner again.”

And just when the conversation was dangerously close to veering into the Safe Sex territory, you excused yourself from the table, mentioned that you’d be going to the Open Air tonight, brought your plate to the kitchen, and thanked Mary for the food.

Back in your room, you exhaled.

Wow. Apparently, there was no such thing as a break this week. But the fact that your parents thought you and Rafe would look cute together? AKCKKANFALJKD.

Also, the whole thing about how you both apparently glowed around each other? If Cara had said that? Yeah well, no, delusional queen just back again with her delusions. But your parents? Who were basically professionals when it came to reading people—your dad being a literal doctor, and your mom a CEO in sales, aka someone who had to be good with people—If they said Rafe liked you?

Fuck, then it had to be true.

Okay okay, he had kinda already said it twice himself—once just yesterday in the car—but STILL OMGMGM.

Okay okay, calm the fuck down.

You just became friends, no need to start building your wedding Pinterest board.

You played with the bracelet around your wrist as you sat down at your desk, smiling to yourself like a damn idiot at the soft rustling sound.

The way it fit just right around your wrist and how FUCKING CUTE IT LOOKED. Gosh, the fact that Rafe had thought of you when he'd spotted it, and then actually bought it for you and gave it to you AHHHHHH. AND JESUS, THEN HE'D BEEN ALL CUTE AND AWKWARD AND NERVOUS WHEN HE'D HANDED IT TO YOU.

HELLO??? Rafe fucking Cameron being awkward AND nervous around you??? As much as that made the butterflies in your stomach go into full freak-out mode, more than anything, it made you feel like a total winner lol.

I’m fine. I’m cool. Completely chill.

SMNJXWNDVHSJDKMXOIASJCDAVLSAÖ.

You would never get over this.

Well, you had to at least try for the next few hours. Because more important than giggling to yourself in your room like some hopelessly lovesick little girl was actually getting ready for tonight.

Okay, it was barely past 1 PM, buuuut you’d gladly take all the time you could get.

Sooo, Cara was probably busy with family stuff right now—spending the day with her grandparents and parents and all—so yeah, no chance of calling her.

Molly maybe? You knew she was also coming tonight because you’d heard her talking about it at Kelce’s party. AND HOLY SHIT YOU DESPERATELY NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT WENT DOWN BETWEEN HER AND KELCE OGMGMGM.

Never mind. Her little Bitmoji was currently chilling at Kelce’s place on the map, so there was your answer.

So Molly was out too. Sure, she’d probably be happy to chat with you—hell, Kelce too probably—but you didn’t want to interrupt these lovebirds (hookup partners??? soon-to-be-married??? WHO KNEW).

Hm. Okay.

Six hours until the boys were picking you up.

Well, you could always sit out on your balcony and sketch a little. You hadn’t really had the chance lately. The past few days had kept you on your toes so much that you'd barely had the energy to sketch a stick figure. And on top of that, the art project with Rafe had kinda sucked most of your creative brain juice dry too.

Senior Year was already a lot and it had barely even started yet. And now The Gloaming was right around the corner—next Friday, to be exact—and well, you were really not looking forward to that.

Midsummers was at least really nice, casual and fun. Dressing up in cute summery dresses, getting tipsy on overpriced prosecco and wine, giggling over boys in suits, and it just had this soft, fairycore kind of vibe to it.

The Gloaming, on the other hand? A school event.

Unlike Midsummers, it wasn’t held at the Cameron Estate, but at a big event venue on the North Side near the beach. One the mayor himself dubbed “Garden Eden.”

It was purely a Kook event, which… yeah, made sense, since it was organized by the Kildare Academy, which was technically a Kook school. But like, couldn’t they have at least teamed up with the South Side High School?

Sure, some Pogues would show up but only as workers. Bartenders, cooks, waiters, janitors who had to clean up everyone’s mess the next morning.

Anyway, this whole class division thing was deeply rooted in the Outer Banks. No point in getting all worked up about it.

And the worst part about The Gloaming? The absolutely RIDICULOUS amount of GOSSIP surrounding it. Gossip at KA was always present, but for some reason, this event turned everyone into real-life Gossip Girl contestants or whatever.

Who went with whom, who cheated on who, who wore the cheapest dress, whose parents were getting divorced, which guy bagged the most girls, and a bunch of other completely braindead nonsense you honestly wanted to stay far, far, far away from.

Unfortunately, your parents loved going. Catching up with old classmates, schmoozing, socializing, and Cara did too. So yeah, they always dragged you along. Plus, it was basically an unofficially mandatory high school event. No way you were risking a dip in your GPA just because you skipped it.

SPEAKING OF GPA.

SHIT.

Shitshitshitshitshit. THE MATH TEST TOMORROW.

Fuck.

You’d completely forgotten. Mrs. Richman had even given your class a friendly reminder last Monday.

Shit.

Well yeah, of course you’d blocked it out. Right before that class, Mr. Smith had put you in a project group with Rafe, and that had basically hijacked your entire brain.

Okay, okay, okay. No panic.

You’d sit down now, study a bit for the next five hours and thirty minutes, and then you’d still have half an hour to get ready for the Open Air.

HAHAHAHAHA TOTALLY DOABLE.

That was, if Rafe wasn’t constantly sending you random reaction pics slash memes slash kinda very suggestive fairycore-slash-emo-wolf pics.

Apparently, Pinterest was his new hobby.

Good for him (and honestly, kinda cute), but not for you. You had a math test to prep for.

And as much as you wanted to send stuff back because RAFE USING THOSE PICS IN THE FIRST PLACE AHHHHHH, you really couldn’t afford to fail math.

So you decided it was time to shut down his spamming.

With a laugh, you switched your phone to airplane mode and set it on the edge of your desk. No reply, because this would go on forever if you didn’t put a stop to it yourself.

This seriously required your maximum amount of self-control not to keep texting him, because GOSH, this felt like some kind of cute little silly version of Rafe.

You basically had the privilege of witnessing firsthand how he discovered Pinterest for himself—or, well, the cursed side of it—and all that just because of you. It was kinda wholesome. Like a dumb little boy realizing for the first time that dinosaurs were cool.

GIRL, STOP DRIFTING OFF.

You seriously needed to focus now. (Well, not your fault Rafe kept spamming your phone hihihihi.)

So you kinda half-focused, somehow managed to study your math book, worked through a few exercises, and even half a practice test until you finally gave up around 5:30—because, in the back of your mind, Rafe and the Open Air event kept spinning in loops.

You’d totally have some more time to study later tonight or tomorrow morning.

Hahahaha. Yes. Definitely.

You turned the airplane mode off again and—Jesus Christ. 200+ messages from the girls' chat and 33 from Rafe.

You quickly skimmed through both.

The girls were just discussing plans, departure times, pre-drinks yes or no, who should be picked up first, some opinions on the movie choice for tonight (Barbie), and other stuff you kinda just skimmed past (sorry girlies, I'm in a rush).

And Rafe? A bunch of cursed and weird-ass pics that just got progressively worse, him complaining about not being able to get rid of them, plus some teasing about you being a nerd because you were studying on a Sunday, bla bla. You left those on read too. (Not sorry about it.)

You jumped in the shower, dried off fast, and dumped a whole load of clothes onto your bed. Because—

WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO WEAR TONIGHT AHHH.

Okay okay, the basic facts:

Occasion: Open Air Movie Festival When: Evening/night Movie: Barbie (main movie) and then Transformers Weather: Actually nice, sunny, warm, but a little breezy People: Both Kooks and Pogues, maybe even some Tourons

Conclusion: I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

Something casual and chill would be the smart move, considering you’d probably be sitting or lying most of the time. Best to throw on a jacket too, just in case. There’d probably be blankets, but still.

And of course, no sweatpants look.

You kinda wanted to dress up a bit, but still keep the vibe right. OKAY NO YOU JUST WANTED TO LOOK PRETTY. With Rafe being there and... yeah. Just Rafe.

Shit.

Now it’s official. You were picking your outfit based on a guy.

A guy you didn’t even need to impress, because, well, technically you were friends now. And you didn’t dress up for friends… right?

Okay, maybe you did it for special occasions. But you didn’t hope that said friend liked your outfit and maybe... MAYBE gave you a compliment.

NOOOOOO I’M FALLING BACK INTO MY DELUSION HOLE AHHHH.

HOW COULD YOU NOT? HIM SAYING HE’D BE DOWN TO BEND YOU OVER KIND OF IMPLIED HE’S ATTRACTED TO YOU AT LEAST A LITTLE SO…

…SO WHAT NOW?

Were you the one sending mixed signals now by dressing up a little even though you’d made it clear you weren’t into short-term hookups?

...maybe.

Anyway. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA (i’m going crazy.)

You tried on some different outfits, scattering your clothes all over the room, and in the end, narrowed it down to two options—both of which included a dress. Because YEAH WHY NOT.

One was more chill and the other a little cuter, but both showed some leg hihihi.

You took pics of both and were just about to send them to Cara for input when Sarah beat you to it:

These girls, dude. Feeding into your delusions without a single shred of shame.

Also, holy shit, they all looked so fucking gorgeous in the outfits they’d picked out. Now you had an even harder time choosing which one you should go with.

Okay, no time left. It was already almost 6:30.

So, a coin toss it would be.

You assigned each outfit to one side of the coin, then flicked that thing up into the air, nearly smacked yourself in the forehead trying to catch it, but managed to trap it between your hands and…

That should do.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Shiiii, look at you." Kelce was the first to speak as you opened the door of the white Range Rover parked outside your house.

Rafe had called you 10 minutes earlier to say they were on their way. You’d thrown your things together in a rush, said goodbye to your parents (who wished you a fun night), and waited in the driveway because no way were you risking one of them ringing the bell and getting wrapped into some awkward parent chat.

You smiled shyly and gave them a soft “Hey” as you slid into the seat behind Topper’s, next to Molly. Kelce was next to her, and Rafe sat in the passenger seat up front (of course, sitting in the back would’ve probably bruised his ego).

"That dress suits you so well," Molly said with a warm smile, and you chuckled.

She looked so unbelievably sweet herself. Her red curls hung wildly on her shoulders, and her red lipstick made the whole color pop even more. She was wearing the cutest pastel green skirt and a white corset blouse you'd ever seen and KELCE’S HAND WAS RESTING ON HER THIGH AJDNJKWNJDKW

And Kelce? Wearing a pink shirt, probably to match the Barbie movie but honestly, they looked like COSMO AND WANDA and it was just SO SWEET.

"Thank you," you said, unable to hide your grin. "I love your outfit too."

Kelce squeezed her thigh (AND SHE CHUCKLED) and added, "I deserve half the credit, I helped her pick it."

You could practically feel how much Rafe wanted to gag. Also… you felt a little (a lot) disappointed that he'd only turned his head once to glance at you without saying a word, BUT NOT GONNA LET THAT RUIN YOUR MOOD RIGHT :))))))

"So, Cara’s already gotten a ride, I heard," Topper said, the bitterness in his voice slicing straight through the mood.

You fiddled with your bag strap and nodded. "Well, yeah, she’s..." Shit. You didn’t actually know what excuse she’d given Topper, considering she was riding with John B.

"She prefers hanging out with little Pogue rats now," Rafe finished for you, dry amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help but frown. If it was already starting like this…

"Ayo, bro," Kelce said with a chuckle, kicking Rafe’s seat. "You better behave tonight. Keep going like that and you’ll end up with a Dalmatian face full of bruises."

Wow, how was Kelce the voice of reason here? Internally, you were thankful because it meant you didn’t have to address it yourself.

Rafe scoffed and shook his head. "Not holding back if one of those fuckers starts provoking me."

Are we sure you’re not the one starting things, boy?

“Dude, don’t make me play peacemaker tonight,” Kelce shot back. “Gotta concentrate on my date.”

Molly chuckled, and you did too. THEY WERE SO CUTE.

Then your heart sank as Kelce leaned forward, pointing toward Rafe with his thumb while looking at you. "Your job tonight."

…What?

You blinked and smiled awkwardly.

“It’s not hard,” Kelce went on with a grin full of white teeth. “Keep him hydrated, stop him from talking to people, and bring up golf every now and then. That usually distracts him.”

Topper and Molly both laughed, and oh god, it was so hard not to laugh too as Rafe turned around with a scowl—first looking at you, then at Kelce.

"You’re gonna be the first fucker I beat up tonight," Rafe said, crooked grin on his lips.

Kinda cute how he always acted like Kelce pissed him off when in reality they had this weirdly wholesome friendship behind the scenes.

Kelce held up his hands as Rafe turned back around. "Ayy, thought you might appreciate the company of a pretty lady."

PLEASE.

Your cheeks heated up because that sounded dangerously like Kelce trying to play wingman or matchmaker, and somehow that made the whole situation SO FREAKING AWKWARD.

"I'd appreciate if you shut the fuck up," Rafe said, still frowning as he looked straight ahead.

This boy was so dramatic, holy shit.

THEN AGAIN, HE HADN’T DENIED WHAT KELCE HAD SAID, SO CLINGING TO THAT FACT HAHAHAAH #goingmoreinsanebytheday.

Topper cleared his throat. "So, uh, back to Cara..."

That earned a round of groans from everyone.

After some teasing of Kelce and Rafe, and some attempts at cheering Topper up by Molly and you, you all got tired of that topic (thank god because you just felt so bad for Topper), and a few minutes later you arrived at your destination anyway.

The huge gravel parking lot was already filled with cars. Some girl was directing Topper in and assigning him a spot for his big-ass Range Rover, which, as you’d found out, happened to be his mother’s.

As the engine shut off, everyone got out. Kelce helped Molly out of the car, and Topper held the door open for you while you struggled a little with your dress.

"Thanks," you said with a polite smile and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Topper looked like he was about to say something (judging by his expression, probably trying to get a moment alone with you to talk about Cara), but Rafe suddenly appeared at his side, grabbing his shoulder with a crooked grin.

"Aight, enough whining about Hall," he said, nodding toward the entrance. "Cheer the fuck up and go find another chick inside. Or go annoy Kelce and Molly, I don't give a shit, but stop dragging us into it."

Such tact. Truly award-worthy. Though, to be fair, that actually sounded like Rafe’s version of wanting his friend to feel better.

Topper pressed his lips together, clearly debating whether to argue, but in the end, he just sighed and nodded. "I'll go join the others."

With that, he walked off.

As much as you felt sorry for him, it wasn’t your place to speak for Cara’s feelings, so you were actually kinda thankful for Rafe’s little lifeline.

SPEAKING OF RAFE.

Dude was eyeing you with the smuggest grin ever, blue eyes locked on yours before letting his gaze drop down your outfit (and soul, the way his stares always felt so intense) for a second.

And the way he just nodded, his eyes landing back on yours, DUDE WHAT.

"What?" Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled sheepishly.

Rafe shook his head, lips tugging into a downward smile. "Nothing. Just curious who you dressed up for."

HUH. NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT LIKE THIS. THIS WAS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING BYE.

You let out a nervous chuckle and shook your head too. "Myself?"

Somehow, you both seemed to know that was bullshit, and now you just kinda wanted to curl up into fetal position and stay there for the next one billion years.

"Bold choice for a self-date," Rafe said with a shit-eating grin.

You couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or a smooth way of saying, “Next time, pick something else.”

Hey, I kinda wanna die right now.

"Shit, don’t look at me like that." Rafe chuckled boyishly. "You look good, alright? That dress suits you."

...

:)

EDNCSKJDXCHNFEWJSKLFCHNVDLAKGSNJVSÖKLFDHXUVWDIUEOPSAXM;POSWLSCKUCJGFKD

Cheeks hotter than the sun, but you didn’t care because OH MY GOD. You couldn’t even hide your smile, and you also didn’t care that you probably looked like some stupid fucking idiot while doing it, but WHO CARED.

"Thank you," you said, gripping the strap of your bag.

AND THEN you mustered up the courage to look him over as well. Not as obviously as he had, because that guy just seemed to have zero shame, but well, you did appreciate the view.

Even if he was wearing one of his probably thousand polo shirt variations again, it suited him just as well as the other 999. Paired with some more or less basic white shorts that really showed off the tan on his legs and some matching white Dior B57 sneakers.

Kinda low effort but that guy pulled it off like crazy. And him deciding to wear his hair as curtain bangs again BECAUSE OF YOU (yes, you'd never forget how he’d admitted that yesterday) kinda made your heart rate shoot up even higher.

Rafe raised his brows when you met his eyes again, and you felt caught and awkward, but still, you managed to say, "Looking fresh yourself."

That made the cutest laugh escape his lips, and you could literally feel the butterflies in your stomach dancing to that soft sound.

"I'm just gonna assume that’s a weirdly executed compliment and you're not just making fun of me," Rafe said with a lopsided smile.

You shrugged. "Maybe it’s both."

"Aight." Rafe then eyed your jacket. "Might wanna take that off though. They’ve got blankets and stuff in there, you know."

You let out a soft laugh, raising your brows. "And I’m just gonna assume this is your weird way of caring about me being comfortable and not just a way to get me undressed."

DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST SAY THAT OMMGMFMMF.

Rafe himself was the biggest confidence boost you could get, and his boldness kinda rubbed off on you.

He chuckled. "It’s both."

ALRIGHT, DUDE.

Okay, honestly, you were kinda starting to sweat under the jacket. First, it was still super warm despite the time, and second, Rafe’s flirty comments (yes, let’s just call them that) were turning your entire body into a heatwave.

With flushed cheeks, you let out a soft giggle and awkwardly tried to take off your jacket while still holding onto your purse without dropping both.

"Jesus, give that shit to me," Rafe said, grabbing your purse with one hand while helping you out of your jacket with the other.

"Ayo, you lovebirds coming?" Kelce’s voice boomed from a few steps ahead. "Seats are filling up, you’ll have to share one soon!"

UGHHH PLEASEEEE DON'T MAKE THIS EVEN MORE AWKWARD.

"Gonna kill that fucker someday," Rafe muttered as he handed you your purse back, eyeing the bracelet on your wrist with a silent smile.

You chuckled sheepishly and slung your bag back over your shoulder, blinking in confusion when he kept holding onto your jacket.

Rafe's gaze drifted over your now-exposed upper half for a second before he looked back at you with a smug grin, tilting his head toward the others. "Come on, before I lose interest in the movie altogether."

DUDE. You REALLY had to get used to this kind of apparently harmless flirting without immediately spiraling into that one very specific overthinking rabbit hole. Like—he couldn’t just make comments like that and then--

The sudden touch of his hand on your back yanked you out of your thoughts, a buzzing warmth settling over your whole body. He gave you a gentle nudge forward and you fell into step beside him, already missing the heat of his hand the second he let it fall away.

As soon as you reached the ticket booth, it found its place again as Rafe softly guided you past the grumpy-looking line toward Kelce, Topper, and Molly.

"Finally," Kelce said with a wide grin as he took two tickets. "Thought you—"

"Shut your ass and keep moving," Rafe cut in, softer than usual.

Topper was up next and followed the other two through the archway. Muffled voices and soft music already drifted from inside.

You reached for your wallet automatically, but Rafe had already stepped in front of you, placing your jacket on the counter. "Two tickets, and this to coat check."

You blinked. "You don't have to—"

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe said, eyes focused on his wallet as he handed the cashier forty dollars. "Keep the change."

No way. He was paying for you again AND tipping the kid behind the counter twenty-five dollars?? First the McDonald’s food and now this? What, why, how.

Plus, um ... you kinda needed that jacket later…

Rafe took two pink tickets and a tag with the number 69, grinning like a five-year-old (grow up please), and handed you one. "Just shut up and take it."

And you did (with a "Thank you" nonetheless) while your heart practically exploded in all directions. Then you followed him through the archway onto the event space.

Dozens of people were already scattered across the area—locals and even some tourons—chit-chatting, laughing, lounging in groups or pairs. Some had already claimed a spot in front of the massive screen on floor cushions or deck chairs. A few had even brought their own blankets and pillows.

To the side were the restrooms and food stalls selling popcorn, nachos, and other snacks, plus all kinds of drinks from water to vodka-energy, and a variety of rental blankets and pillows.

And strung up between trees and posts were dozens of fairy lights and pink paper lanterns (clearly Barbie was the more anticipated movie tonight). It looked gorgeous, and cozy, especially now with the sun halfway down the horizon.

Which, as a matter of fact, made the whole setting feel... a little too intimate.

The others were nowhere to be seen, and it was just you and Rafe now, standing near the entrance. And the fact that he'd been all gentlemanly earlier didn’t help—THIS ALMOST FELT LIKE A FUCKING DATE, JESUS CHRIST.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK CALM DOWN. JUST LOOK AROUND, MAYBE I CAN SPOT--

"I guess you'll want some snacks and shit like that."

Your head snapped back to him, suddenly very aware of how exposed you felt without your jacket, without Topper, Kelce, or Molly AROUND AND AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH.

The only thing grounding you was the bag on your shoulder, which you were now holding onto like your life depended on it.

"Um, yeah, sure," you said, internally begging your brain to chill the fuck out.

WHY DIDN’T HE CARE WHERE THE OTHERS WERE THOUGH??? HELLOOO YOUR FRIENDS ARE GONE, PLEASE LOOK FOR THEM.

With a simple "Aight, come on" from Rafe, you followed him toward one of the snack stands, trying to maintain a respectful distance.

This time, there was no one for Rafe to cut in front of, so the two of you just stood there AND YOUR BRAIN COMPLETELY BLANKED ON EVERY TOPIC KNOWN TO MAN.

How was he so chill while you almost debated asking him what brand of microwave he’d recommend because you LITERALLY had nothing else to think of HELP.

Nervously, you hugged yourself, trying to ground yourself by gently pinching the skin on your upper arm.

"You cold?"

You met his raised eyebrows and instinctively dropped your hands, giving him a small, smiley shake of your head. "Wh—no. No."

Rafe eyed you for a long second before saying, "You're being weird."

NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT OH MY GOD.

"You're always weird, but this is weird-weird," he added, dry amusement in his tone.

You let out a strained chuckle. "Okay, maybe I am kind of cold."

ughhhhhhhhhhhh. Please believe me, please believe me, please—

"Well, then we’ll buy a fucking blanket. Jesus Christ, you gotta chill."

oKAY.

WAIT—WE?!?!?!?!?!

You had zero time to spiral over that because suddenly, you two were up. WAIT—YOU TWO??? NO. RAFE. RAFE WAS NEXT. HELP. WHAT’S GOING ON.

He ordered some nachos with salsa dip and a large diet coke and then turned to you with an expectant expression.

WHAT. NO FUCKING WAY.

No no no no no no. Him paying AGAIN felt so insanely weird for no reason. You stepped forward and grabbed your wallet, and he looked at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

"That's some disrespect," he said, raising an eyebrow, though the amusement in his tone was undeniable.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "I just... you really don’t have to—"

"Shit, only thing I wanna hear right now is your order," he cut you off, and the cashier's barely hidden smile just made the whole thing ten times more awkward.

And because you really didn’t want to drag this painfully awkward situation out any longer, you just told her your snack and drink choice.

Rafe placed two twenty-dollar bills on the counter and added, "And a blanket. Large."

The pretty cashier girl glanced between the two of you, lifting a brow with clear amusement. "We only have small ones left."

YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

PLEASE ASK FOR TWO. PLEASE FUCKING ASK FOR TWO.

"Yeah, well, one of those then."

[Insert brain explosion sound here.]

You could literally feel the adrenaline flooding your body, nerves tingling and buzzing, butterflies flying around all confused and bumping into each other like WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONE.

You kinda felt like hyperventilating but all you did was smile with the most strained expression because what :) else :) were :) you :) supposed :) to :) do :)?????!?!??!!

Rafe took the change and shouldered the blanket bag over one strap, then reached for his snack order.

You grabbed yours too and followed him, your nerves shot to hell. You honestly felt like some helpless prey knowing it was about to get devoured but having no idea when.

Your cheeks burned hot and you were pretty sure your blood pressure was sky-high, except you had no idea why you were freaking out so much. All you could hear was your own heart pounding in your chest and ears.

You almost didn’t even notice that Rafe had stopped, or rather, that he’d been stopped.

Wait, no. Rafe had stopped because you’d been stopped.

Cara had grabbed your arm, halting you in your tracks, a huge grin on her face as she greeted you both.

Shit. And JJ was next to her, waving with a smile.

Your half-panic attack vanished instantly, now replaced with a new, different anxiety: Rafe freaking out, saying some dumb shit, or worse, starting actual shit with JJ. Or JJ not keeping his mouth shut. Or even worse, the other Pogues showing up.

But they didn’t. And all Rafe did was...stay quiet, other than giving Cara a casual "'Sup."

WHICH MADE YOU ALL THE MORE CONFUSED BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH HIM TODAY.

"Already said hi to Kelce and Molly," Cara said, eyeing you with a grin that basically screamed I-see-one-blanket-and-your-jacket’s-missing-soooo-wink-wink. "Also spotted Topper, but didn’t wanna interrupt his chit-chat with Ruthie."

RUTHIE’S HERE? OF COURSE SHE’S HERE.

Rafe scoffed. "He’s salty 'cause you turned him down."

Cara blinked, genuinely looking a little guilty. "I didn’t turn him down. I just already promised someone else I’d join their group. And last I checked, his car only has five seats anyway."

"Could’ve thrown Kelce in the trunk," Rafe shrugged.

Dude.

"Or someone could’ve gotten cozy on a lap," JJ added with a smirk. Directed at you.

DUDE.

Rafe finally tensed and you found yourself relaxing (girl, are you okay???) because that was a sign he wasn’t some polite and gentleman-programmed clone of himself.

But before he could snap at JJ, Cara stepped in. "Or Topper could stop acting like a drama queen just because I turned down his invite," she said with a frown, though you knew better. She felt bad.

Rafe tilted his head, and the air shifted in a way you did not like. Great. Now you had to de-escalate this?

"I’m sure he’d still appreciate it if you say hi later," you said with a smile that was clearly meant to signal pls-this-is-getting-weird-fast.

Cara, thank god, got the message and sighed dramatically. "Guess you’re right." Then she looked at her wrist like there was a watch. "Oh no, movie’s starting soon. Gotta grab our snacks before we miss out."

Oscar goes to her for sure.

You just nodded, smile still strained. "Right."

"Okay, see you two later!" she grinned at both of you, then grabbed JJ by the arm and dragged him off toward the food stalls.

Bomb successfully defused.

You turned back to Rafe and he looked at you with a boyish grin. "Didn’t know she had piercings."

Wh—OH. WHAT.

You stared at him blankly.

Had he seriously checked out her tits? Okay, no judgment, like Cara had gone braless today and her boobs looked legitimately perfect—like GODDESS-LEVEL—in that pink dress of hers, and even you couldn’t help but notice the second she'd walked up but...

You didn’t like that Rafe had.

Of course, of course he could look. He was a guy after all, and what else did they ever see beyond tits and ass, and yeah, Cara was an absolute bombshell, but…

Hm.

HM.

A weird feeling spread through your stomach and the butterflies just kinda sat there now, not sure what to do or how to feel.

"Well, yeah, I guess," you said, and it was so painfully obvious how the slight bitterness in your voice still came through. So you tried to compensate with a smile, but you probably looked like someone being held at gunpoint. "She got them a few weeks ago."

Rafe seemed way too entertained by that and just nodded with a wide grin. "Bet that hurt."

"It’s a sensitive area, so... yeah," you replied, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

An awkward silence started creeping in, adding to the sudden clenching in your chest, and you felt huge secondhand embarrassment for yourself. For being JEALOUS of your own best friend, especially when you and Rafe weren’t even a couple in ANY WAY and just UGHHHH.

Can I be normal for ONE FUCKING SECOND, please.

"Ayo, Rafe!" Kelce’s voice suddenly echoed from somewhere deeper inside the event space.

You and Rafe both looked up and spotted him somewhere between the seating area in front of the screen, waving with both arms.

Relief washed over you, and without waiting for any comment from Rafe, you started walking toward Kelce through the rows of bean bags, lounge chairs, and picnic blankets.

You found Kelce sitting on one of the lounge beds in the back rows… and Molly on a different one (?). A second later, you felt Rafe’s presence beside you.

Kelce patted the spot next to him, a huge grin on his face. "We saved you one of the best spots. Didn't want you sitting on some uncomfortable floor pillows. Bad for the spine, you know."

...no. Just. NO.

NONONONONONONONO.

There was no way you were gonna lie down on a damn shared lounge bed with RAFE, barely wide enough for two people. NOPE. NO. NO THANK YOU.

OKAY YES HOLY SHIT YES, BUT ALSO NO NO NO.

And Rafe—this NONCHALANT FUCKING GUY—didn’t give a single fuck. After Kelce had gotten up and moved over to sit with Molly, Rafe just dropped the blanket bag onto the bed and placed his nachos and Coke on the holder on the left side like this was the most normal thing ever.

You just stood there frozen, your heart SCREAMING AT YOU TO JUST SIT DOWN while your brain was spiraling, throwing thoughts and questions around, with the two big monsters called fear and anxiety looming over everything like a cold storm—

“Come on, Y/n.”

Molly. Her voice was soft and quiet next to you. “Enjoy yourself a little.”

She looked up at you with her sweet smile and kind eyes. There was a gentle understanding in her expression, and beneath it, this warm encouragement—like she got it. Like she really understood what was happening inside your head. The panic, the confusion, and mostly the sheer anxiety about this whole... situation.

And somehow, just that little sentence and her sweet smile were enough to bring a tiny bit of quiet to your brain.

YOU COMPLETELY UNDERSTOOD WHY KELCE HAD IMMEDIATELY FALLEN FOR HER BECAUSE DUDE.

“You waiting for an invitation or what?” And then there was Rafe with his passive-aggressive bullshit, already lying back with his legs up, shoes off, sipping his stupid Coke Zero.

Remember: he’s just a dumbass. Sure, he might be the biggest crush you've ever had, but deep down he's just a dumb little stupid boy. You had absolutely no reason to feel intimidated or nervous around him.

WELL YOU HADN’T—UNTIL HE'D DECIDED TO BE A GODDAMN GENTLEMAN TODAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Okokokok whatever, I’m gonna move now and just sit down. Yeah, yeah, a little smile, mm-hmm, that’s it. And now I’ll set my stuff down on my side. Okay, done. Oh shit, my drink nearly slipped hahah. Whatever, it’s fine. Now I’ll hang my bag on the hook at the side and then I'MGONNATAKEAPLACEJUSTINCHESAWAYFROMRAFEOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

DONE.

KJDEWFBGVJKWRBGFVWSJKBHFCSKWHBFESQHRL.

You smoothed out the fabric of your dress, let your hands fall into your lap, and leaned not at all tensely against the pillow backrest, staring straight ahead like a normal person because everything about this was completely normal.

:) yes, normal :)

Oh, wait. Your shoes.

You kicked them off and tossed them into the grass, and because you could feel Rafe’s burning gaze on you the whole time, you finally met his eyes—and he looked so fucking done with you it was almost hilarious.

He didn’t even look pissed. Just straight-up The-Office-style deadpan, like he was staring directly into some invisible camera, and that camera was your eyes.

"You know, at this point, you might as well just sit in the grass," he said, walking that fine line between annoyance and amusement.

And okay, he kind of had a point. You were sitting so far to the right your right leg was basically hanging off the edge of the bed.

I’m so fucking embarrassing holy shit.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and your heart sank when his brows furrowed.

"Are you seriously scared I might try some shit?" He actually sounded hurt beneath all that faux offense, and now you felt like the biggest idiot alive.

You shook your head instantly, heart racing. "No, no, of course not." An embarrassed smile crept onto your face. "I just—"

"Some minion fucker said shit to you," he stated, voice and expression softening just a little now.

Nodding at that painfully accurate guess felt humiliating. Sure, by now he knew your brain was a little fucked up, but not being able to just sit next to him? So fucking ridiculous.

You forced yourself to scoot a little closer, away from the edge, feeling like the most embarrassing human being on earth.

“Okay, stop,” he said, clearly trying to keep his frustration in check. He motioned to his chest. “I’m not gonna sit here with you acting like I’m holding you at gunpoint, alright? So if you’d rather go join Hall and her lapdog,” he made a shooing motion with his hand, “go for it.”

Your heart clenched at how disappointed and lowkey sad he sounded rather than mad or annoyed. And he’d been so nice today anyway, all smiley and chill, and now he looked like someone had popped his favorite balloon. Or, more accurately: like you had.

Of course you WEREN’T scared he’d try anything. Not in the slightest, oh my god, no, it was just…

NOTHING. There wasn’t a single damn problem except you and your own damn head.

Fuck that. Seriously, fuck your brain and every thought it ever created. Just—fuck it.

Shaking your head, you said, “What? No. No! I’m fine here. It’s… I’m just being stupid, okay?”

Rafe gave you a look like he was considering getting up and sitting somewhere else, but his gaze softened into a smile. He tapped his head. “Nah, it’s your fucking asshole brain feeding you stupid shit.” He sighed, then shook his head again. “Can’t believe I even have to say this shit, but if it helps you chill the fuck out: I’m gonna keep my hands to myself, alright?” He picked up the blanket bag and moved it toward you. “And this was meant for you anyway. I don’t need it.”

Okay no.

You did NOT want him feeling like he needed to explain himself just to not be seen as a creep because YOU KNEW DAMN WELL HE WASN’T.

JESUS CHRIST. You were the one putting people into shitty situations like this. And Rafe, of all people—this guy probably had to put up with your bullshit more than anyone else these past few days.

Furrowing your brows, you scooted closer and grabbed the blanket bag, opening it up and tossing that stupid thing to the side. You tried spreading the fluffy pink blanket across both your legs, but it was so awkwardly rolled together you kinda failed and a giant ball of fluff just landed squarely on both your laps.

“The fuck are you trying to achieve here?” Rafe said, half annoyed, half amused, watching you struggle with the small-ass blanket.

You leaned forward, trying to figure out which side was up. “Proving to you that I’m not uncomfortable around you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, letting out a strained breath as he gently slapped your hand away from awkwardly fumbling with the blanket. In one smooth motion, he spread it lengthwise across both your laps.

Then you realized—it was still too warm for a blanket, especially a fluffy one like this, and you could already feel sweat creeping onto your skin. Thank god, Rafe felt it too.

“Okay, point proven,” he said with a soft scoff. “Now can we ditch this thing before I get a fucking heatstroke?”

You let out a chuckle and nodded, pulling the blanket off and tossing it to the foot of your seat.

As you shifted positions, the background music faded and the sound of the movie started. Wait, no, just some commercials. The voices around you gradually died down anyway, and the last people were finding their seats.

The air between you and Rafe finally settled. Back to as normal as it could get. And so fast too, like, you never really had to be afraid of anything with him, because even if you got into a dumb little argument, you two always somehow figured it out right away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head toward you, hands resting on his stomach. “Have you seen the movie before?”

You tilted your head toward him too, adrenaline spiking the second you realized how close you were. Elbows just a few inches apart, his face still at a respectful formal distance but close enough for you to see the blue pattern in his stupidly pretty eyes.

And god, his cologne in the air between you.

You smiled and shook your head softly. “You?”

“Nah,” he said, and Jesus, his gaze was always so intense. “Didn’t even wanna see this crap, but Wheezie insisted I come.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “She seems more and more likeable every time you talk about her.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he scratched his jaw. “She says the same about you.”

OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD. HE TALKED TO HIS LITTLE SISTER ABOUT YOU???? AHUJCHDNSKCHNKEHVBSFD WHAT.

His gaze drifted back to the screen as the actual intro to the movie started playing. A woman’s voice narrated something over the scene of girls playing with dolls, but you weren’t really listening.

You were too aware of Rafe sitting right there, the scent of his cologne, how relaxed he seemed—and still thinking about that almost hurt expression he had earlier.

You stared blankly at the screen, biting the inside of your cheek. He’s actually trying to make me feel comfortable, and I made him feel like I was grossed out or scared of him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tilted your head toward him, eyeing his calm profile for a second. The softness of his skin, his cute little lashes, the focused look in his eyes—and the violet-tinted bruise on his cheek that almost looked like a blossom.

“Rafe,” you said quietly.

You almost melted at how soft he looked when he turned his head toward you. Big blue eyes staring at you, almost scared of what you were about to say.

"I’m sorry about earlier," you said with a soft look. "I acted like an idiot. Probably made you feel like one, too."

Rafe shook his head and waved it off. “Nah, it’s alright. I’m used to your shit by now.”

Nope. That didn’t sit right with you.

You pressed your lips together, turning your body to face him in a sideways position, legs pulled up toward you. His eyes flicked briefly to the curve of your hip before meeting your gaze again, clearly trying not to smile.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, but you kept your gaze steady, your expression serious. “Still. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to explain yourself.”

Rafe let out an amused breath. "Chill, okay? Seriously, I didn’t mind."

How was he sometimes so chill, and other times made a whole issue out of something that wasn’t even one?

"Or do you need me to shut up the asshole minion in your head?" he said, lips tugging into a downward smile.

You let out a quiet chuckle and fidgeted with the bracelet on your wrist. "I think I managed that myself, but thanks."

He pulled a mock-pained face. "Sucks. Would’ve loved to smash that guy’s face in."

Another soft giggle slipped from your lips, and with that conversation wrapped up, you turned back to your original position. The fabric of your dress had ridden up slightly, giving a peak at your thighs and you quickly tugged it back down with an awkward motion.

Barbieland was now being introduced on the screen, showcasing all the different Barbie variants.

And then it was Rafe who shifted, leaning forward to grab the blanket.

You eyed him with a confused smile as he pulled it back over both your legs. “So you are in fact cold” you said, amused, heart racing at the sweet gesture.

Rafe looked up, almost startled, as he pulled the blanket over his lap as well. “What? Yeah, no, just... feels more comfy.”

…

Oh.

You just stared at him in slight disbelief, then amusement, then full-on embarrassment, knowing exactly what the two of you were now sharing under that blanket.

"What," he said quietly, brows furrowed with an almost accusatory tone. “It’s not like I control that shit.”

You should probably be weirded out. No, actually—FREAK OUT, PANIC, stand up and leave. But instead, you just pressed your lips together, trying not to chuckle at how genuinely awkward he looked. And probably felt.

Shit, you actually felt sorry for him.

So, in a weak attempt to make him feel better, you mirrored his movement, pulling your side of the blanket over your lap too and quietly shifting your gaze back to the screen, where the stereotypical Barbie was just being introduced.

Your heart was racing nonetheless, because like... not Rafe getting hard at the most random-ass moment during a Barbie movie. And not you lying just a few inches away from him and OKAY MAYBE KINDA PANICKING A LITTLE.

nONONONONO. Stuff like that happens all the time. He probably felt just as embarrassed as you did. Honestly, maybe even more.

Okay. Just ignore it. It'll probably go away soon, right?

Keeping your focus on the movie was kinda hard though, with how uncomfortable you felt in your current position, neck all tense because you were lying too low, and being on your back felt awkward in general.

So now you had two options: either turn on your side, facing Rafe, or turn your back to him. And given his current…situation, you weren’t really sure which one was worse.

Shit, but you really couldn’t lie like that anymore, and you didn’t wanna risk a cramp or something just because you were too scared to move. So you decided to turn onto your side—facing him—because, well… you didn’t wanna make him feel bad by turning away.

Grabbing the pillow behind you, you slid one hand underneath it and rested the other next to your face. There. Much better.

"You doing that shit on purpose now?" Rafe asked, and your head snapped toward him, catching him glancing at the curve of your hip again, now hidden under the blanket.

You let out a baffled little laugh, shaking your head. "What? No. This is just more comfortable."

“Yeah, shit. Not for me,” he muttered, and poor boy actually looked like he was suffering.

Nerves buzzing, you just stared at him cluelessly, your heart racing at the possibility that you were the reason for his current situation. "I... what do you want me to do?"

"I don’t know, stop moving." He looked so genuinely embarrassed, wearing that little scowl, that somehow it didn’t feel that weird. Okay, it did, but not as much as you'd expected. And honestly, right now, you just wanted to make him feel a little less awkward.

"Well... maybe turning on your side might help," you said quietly, with a barely hidden smile. "Might ease the pressure, considering—"

"Please just shut the fuck up," Rafe muttered, his face contorted in the most dramatic frown possible. On screen, stereotypical Barbie was now getting ready for her day. Then, after a beat, he did in fact shift downward a bit and turned to face you, mirroring your position.

For a moment, you just stared at each other. A respectful distance between you, but still close enough to feel his breath on your hand. He looked at you like he might actually murder you if you dared open your mouth, and you tried your absolute best not to laugh.

“Did you know,” you whispered, trying to keep a straight face, “Mr. Martin’s buttcrack always peeks out when he tries to write on the upper half of the board.”

Rafe stared at you, deadpan, very obviously trying to suppress a smile. You decided to go one further: “Looks like a dark hairy caterpillar from afar.”

His features softened almost immediately as a baffled chuckle escaped him, the blanket on your side lifting a little as his body shifted onto his back. He dragged a hand over his face in annoyed amusement, letting out a quiet, "What the fuck."

You held back a smile, glancing up at him with raised brows, feeling a little proud for getting those soft chuckles out of him from time to time. “Did that help?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Shit, yeah, it did. I’ll probably never get hard again with that cursed image now burned into my brain."

“Imagine him in a tankini, that should do the trick,” you offered, and Rafe’s face twisted in disgust.

He tapped a finger against his temple. “That weird-ass minion in your head is worse than the shit-talking one.”

You let out a soft giggle, and your heart did a little jump when you saw him smiling along too.

Rafe then fully shifted onto his back again and tried adjusting the blanket higher up, but since it was stretched lengthwise over both of you, your feet ended up exposed. A soft breeze hit them, now that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon.

"Okay, you gotta scoot closer if we both wanna fit under here," he said, scoffing at your expression. "Shit, relax. Thanks to your overly detailed description of Martin’s wrinkly, hairy caterpillar buttcrack, I'm probably gonna be impotent for the next few weeks."

NOT RELAXING IN THE SLIGHTEST RIGHT NOW.

“But I can get up and grab my own blanket if you want,” he added more seriously, catching your baffled look.

WHY WAS HE SO SWEET TONIGHT OH MY GOD.

Okay. This is your chance for SOME CLOSENESS WITH HIM. He might’ve had a boner just now HAHAHAHAHA and you were still kind of shocked at yourself for how weirdly chill you'd reacted, BUT LET’S JUST IGNORE THAT AND USE THIS FUCKING CHANCE GIRLLLLL LET’S GOOOO.

Quietly, you shook your head with a nervous smile, grabbed your pillow, and scooted closer to him. While you kind of struggled to figure out how exactly you were supposed to lie next to him that close, Rafe grabbed the blanket and turned it so that the long side actually covered the length of your bodies.

Okay, lying on your side wasn’t really possible here, so you turned onto your back. But now your upper arms were awkwardly pressed together, both of you with your hands resting on your stomach, and your hips were touching, too, AND JESUS CHRIST HIS BODY FELT SO WARM.

But hey, at least you were both covered now, even if you were pretty sure he could hear your heartbeat, with how loud it was pounding in your chest.

Barbie was now at the beach with her friends, the Kens were doing some beach stuff or whatever BUT YOU COULDN’T REALLY FOCUS.

Also, his elbow was digging uncomfortably into yours, so you tried adjusting yours, which made him move again AND JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS AWKWARD.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe said with a quiet scoff and leaned forward. “This isn’t working.”

You just blinked at him, afraid he’d actually get up now to grab his own blanket.

Instead, he gently grabbed your shoulder, signaling you to lean forward for a second. Which you did—letting him take the lead because your brain had gone completely blank at THIS ABSURDLY CLOSE PROXIMITY.

Rafe grabbed your pillow, scooted into a more upright position, then leaned back again, his right arm now resting on the low backrest, his head supported by his hand. With the other, he placed the pillow in the now empty space, half on his shoulder and under his armpit, and gestured to it.

GUYS.

“There,” he said. “You okay with that?”

JUST SAY YES AND LIE DOWN, NO SECOND GUESSING.

So you did. Heart hammering so loud you didn’t even hear yourself speak. You smiled—half anxious, half excited—and leaned back again.

Since he was lying slightly elevated on his back, you had to scoot down a little, your head pressing against the pillow, your left shoulder half resting on his chest, and you folded your hands comfortably on your stomach. Your elbow ended up resting against the side of his hip because of that, and you expected him to shift away...but he didn’t. And NEITHER DID YOU because acknowledging it would just make it worse and—

GIRL. RELAX.

Your body was relaxed. Rafe’s warmth helped you ease into it, and the fact that he was so chill made it even easier. BUT YOUR MIND? YOUR MIND WAS SCREAMING, RUNNING IN CIRCLES, SETTING EVERYTHING ON FIRE BECAUSE YOU WERE BASICALLY HALF-CUDDLING WITH RAFE RIGHT NOW.

It’s fine. It’s cool.

Everything’s completely chill.

Actually, yeah, literally chill. Your skin had goosebumps, both from the situation and the drop in temperature over the past half hour.

And then a whole firework erupted on your upper right arm as you felt Rafe’s arm behind you shift, to pull up the blanket on your side and cover the rest of your upper body, AND HIS FINGERS BRUSHED YOUR SKIN AS HE DID SO AND—

You held your breath.

Because.

THIS FUCKER just left his arm there. Not back on the armrest, not casually elsewhere—no, right there, lightly resting on your right shoulder, his fingers playing with the sleeve of your dress.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood because WAS THIS EVEN REAL?! WAS THIS ON PURPOSE OR WAS HE JUST SO FOCUSED ON THE MOVIE HE DIDN’T NOTICE? AHHHHHHHHH

But you let him.

You let him because you wanted this. Being close to him, feeling the warmth of his body, all cozied up. Your heart was racing, fluttering like it didn’t know whether to panic or melt. Every brush of his arm sent little sparks down your spine, too much and not enough all at once.

Because, as a matter of fact, it wasn't enough. Now that you’d had a taste of this feeling—of how it felt being so close to him—it was like something inside you had been lit up. There was this deep urge and longing to completely turn toward him, fully cuddle up, put your hand on his chest, drape a leg over his, bury your head in his chest and just inhale his scent and UGHHHH.

But you were a coward. A scaredy cat, too afraid he’d push you away. Especially because this right here? It was toeing a fine line between “we’re just cold and sharing a blanket so obviously we scoot closer” and “considering we’re just project partners who happened to agree on being friends, this was way more intimate than necessary.”

Hey, funny thought here: what if you just did it? :)

Because HE clearly never gave much thought to how his little flirtations affected you. He made it damn clear it was all just for fun. So maybe you could just… cuddle with him. For fun.

Worst case? He’d say something like “You wanna get into it now or what?” and then you’d just awkwardly laugh and go “Sorry, just felt more comfy like this” and scoot back into your old position.

Remember? With Rafe, you never had to be afraid of doing some dumb shit or embarrassing yourself.

FUCK IT.

You pressed your lips together and pushed yourself up on your elbow, ignoring the pang of disappointment as his arm slipped back onto the backrest, his expression confused. DOESN’T MATTER, PUSH THROUGH GIRL. Adrenaline shot up as you grabbed the pillow that had been under his arm and silently placed it across his ribs, READY TO LAY DOWN—

—only for him to stop you with a crooked smile, your heart dropping straight through the floor.

You froze. Completely. Like your body had hit an invisible wall. Eyes wide, breath hitched, you just… stared at him. You didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move, afraid that even the smallest word might expose you in the worst way possible.

“Shit, you're gonna suffocate me with that thing,” Rafe said with amusement and moved the pillow to the side. Then he gestured toward the now free space on the side of his chest. “There.”

Your whole body buzzed as his right arm returned to your upper arm, now gently nudging you toward him.

Ignoring every voice of reason and panic in your head, letting yourself be guided into him, turning your body toward his, resting your head against the side of his chest, your shoulder naturally tilting in, your arm daring to settle on his upper stomach.

Every nerve lit up, hyperaware of the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into yours through his shirt. It was terrifying and euphoric, like stepping off a ledge and realizing, just for a second, that maybe you liked the adrenaline you felt while looking downward.

And then you almost exploded, because this guy took it a step further. His left hand remained casually on his thigh, but his other arm wrapped around your back, HIS HAND NOW RESTING ON YOUR BLANKET-COVERED WAIST.

Okay. You were officially done for :)))))))

Your heart was racing, pounding so loud it felt like drums in your ears, pulse probably skyrocketing, and let’s not even talk about the adrenaline—you’d probably need the ER in the next few seconds.

And the craziest thing was how he'd just accepted it. He'd let you do this. Hadn’t said anything dumb, hadn’t made a joke. Instead, he just laid there, snacking on his nachos and sipping his Coke Zero occasionally, the only things he said being how stupid Ken looked and acted and how weird his rivalry with the other Ken was.

But you didn’t have the heart to tell him that, actually, that was exactly how you saw him and Kelce. So you just stayed quiet, chuckled softly whenever he made another snarky remark, and soaked in this surreal moment that would be over again in about 60 minutes.

And when his left hand absentmindedly started playing with the bracelet dangling from your wrist, you didn’t say anything either—too afraid to ruin whatever this was.

Because somehow, it felt like the little agreement of friendship you made just yesterday was already, very slowly, starting to slip away into something you were too afraid to name.

Or maybe. Maybe, this was just what it looked like when two people, thrown together by coincidence, trusted each other enough to get this comfortable without needing to put it into words.

Little did you two know—it was both.

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✿ A / N ✿ imma be real, i feel like i fucked up their whole dynamic with the last scene aka them lying on the bed and cuddling and ughhh, and i also feel like you can feel through the writing how impatient i grew with the ending of this ch. idk maybe i should've postponed this and actually think it through but i kinda lost my mind with this one and now it seems like i skipped over some steps. idk maybe i'm just tired or biased bc of how long this chapter is so what do you guys think? bc i'm srsly considering reworking the last part HAHAHAHAH #heart'sactuallyracingrn

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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[ditzyrafe]

hii! i love your work so much! would you be able to do experienced bsf!rafe takes readers virginity? preferably more like gentle and sweet!

— stepbro!rafe taking your virginity

warnings — DUBCON, stepcest, corruption, petnames, fingering, lewd language

a/n — made this stepbro!rafe instead cause i thought it fit more, and this isn't really gentle or sweet. sorry that it's not exactly what you asked for :(

the dim glow from your bedside lamp casts long shadows as you lie curled on your side, facing the wall. the house is quiet, your family is presumably either asleep or out. it's the first time you've really dared to explore like this, driven by a relentless curiosity and a new, unfamiliar ache low in your belly. your fingers tremble slightly, hesitant as they slip beneath the waistband of your thin pyjama shorts.

it's clumsy at first, an uncertain journey across your own skin. you hold your breath, listening intently to the silence of the house, cheeks flushing hot with a mixture of embarrassment and increasing excitement. when your fingertips brush against a particularly sensitive spot, a soft gasp escapes your lips, muffled against the pillow. you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the surprising little sparks of pleasure, the warmth spreading through you. lost in this tentative, private exploration, you're completely unaware of the presence watching your every move.

a soft creak from the doorway makes your eyes fly open. panic seizes you instantly. standing there, leaning against the doorframe with infuriating casualness is your step brother rafe. his arms are crossed, and a slow, knowing smirk is spreading across his face. his dark eyes aren't looking at your face; they're fixed lower, directly on where your hand is frozen beneath your shorts.

mortification slams into you, hot and absolute. you snatch your hand away as if electrocuted, yanking the duvet up to your chin. you so badly want to disappear right now.

but rafe doesn't move, doesn't speak. he just watches you, that unnerving smirk deepening, his gaze filled with dark amusement. the silence stretches, thick with your humiliation and his silent observation.

"you don't have to stop cause i'm here y'know," he finally murmurs, his voice a low, smooth drawl that makes your skin prickle. he pushes off the doorframe and walks slowly into the room, stopping near the foot of your bed. "keep going, sis."

you shake your head silently, unable to form words, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies your flushed face, your wide, panicked eyes. "bit clumsy with it, aren'tcha though?" he observes, his tone laced with something sharp and teasing. "like you don't quite know what you're doing."

the accusation hangs in the air. your flush deepens. it's true. you don't know what you're doing.

he seems to read the confirmation in your mortified silence. his smirk fades slightly, replaced by a sudden, intense curiosity. he takes another step closer, perching on the edge of your bed. "wait," he says softly, his eyes searching yours intently. "don't tell me… you've never…"

you flinch at the question, pulling the duvet tighter. your silence is answer enough.

understanding dawns in rafe's eyes, followed swiftly by something else — a flicker of possessive fire, a sudden, sharp glint of intense interest that feels far more dangerous than his earlier amusement. he looks at you differently now, like he's just discovered a rare, untouched prize. you're a fucking virgin. the knowledge seems to flip a switch inside him. the idea of being your first, of marking you as his taboo little pet — it ignites a palpable hunger in his gaze.

his little step-sis is a virgin, and he's going to have a lot of fun with you from now on.

"well, well," he breathes out, a slow, predatory smile returning, different this time. possessive. determined. "can't have'ya fumbling around in the dark, can we?" he reaches out, his hand large and warm, settling lightly on your knee over the duvet. "looks like you need your big brother to help out. ain't that right, sweetheart?"

you flinch at the touch, pulling your knee away instinctively. "n-no," you stammer. "please, rafe, just go away."

"shh," he soothes, though his eyes hold no real comfort, only that dark, simmering intent. "don't be scared, doll. just let me guide you. lemme show you how it's done."

before you can protest further, his hand slides under the duvet, finding your thigh. you gasp, freezing completely. his touch is confident, sure, utterly different from your own hesitant exploration. he slides his hand higher, fingers brushing against the heat between your legs, finding that you're already soaked through those little pink laced panties you have on.

"relax," he whispers, his thumb beginning to move, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against your clothed clit. even through the barrier, the sensations you feel has you moaning and whimpering against your will.

he chuckles softly, a dark, satisfied sound. "that's it, baby. feels better when someone else does it, doesn't it? better when your brother touches you?” his fingers continue prodding, pressing, stroking, applying pressure with an expertise that makes your head spin. he watches your face intently, tracking the flush, the parted lips, the way your eyes flutter shut despite your fear.

"let it go for me," he murmurs, his hand moving faster now, fingers slipping beneath the fabric to make direct contact with your wet folds. "let me make you feel good. let me be the first one to make you come apart." the possessiveness in his voice is stark now, undeniable. he wants this, wants to claim you as his own. even if he must keep you a secret, it doesn’t stop him from wanting you.

the pleasure builds rapidly under his skilled touch, overwhelming your fear, your shame. your hips lift involuntarily off the bed, seeking more pressure. he groans, clearly aroused by your response, by the power he holds over you. he guides you towards the peak, murmuring filthy, possessive praise against your ear, ensuring you know exactly who is responsible for the shattering release that finally rips through you, leaving you trembling and breathless, utterly undone by his experienced hand.

the waves slowly fade, leaving you boneless and gasping against the pillows. your entire body feels numb. rafe doesn't immediately withdraw his hand. he keeps his fingers resting lightly against your slick folds, feeling the faint aftershocks tremor though you, his thumb stroking idly, possessively.

he leans down, his breath warm against your ear again, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "see? that wasn't so bad, was it?" he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his own fingers, glistening with your wetness. a dark look of triumph crosses his face. "first time you've ever felt that. and it was with my hand. only i can do this, you understand?"

you can only manage a shaky whimper in response, still trying to process the intensity of what just happened, the sheer overwhelming sensation. you risk opening your eyes, looking up at him through tear-spiked lashes. the predatory amusement is still there, but it’s paired with something else now — a fierce, almost territorial satisfaction. he owns this moment. he owns you.

and you're not sure why, but some small part of you is glad.

"no one else gets to have you," he continues softly, his gaze locking onto yours, pinning you in place. his fingers trace a slow, deliberate path across your skin, sending fresh shivers through you.

"this is only just the beginnin’, sis."

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© written by ditzyrafe — do not steal or claim as ur own, stealing will result in me blocking u, any resemblance to any other story is simply coincidental!