#my brain on a loop: my two boys <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dawnlotus-draws]

A loneliness like morning frost.

[dwaekkicidal]

Oh my god I beg for some mean skz smut 😔😔

hmmmm ok but what are we thinking for the hyung line?

is it about meanie channie who snaps after you slut yourself out in the studio when staff was in there- along with the rest of 3racha who you know has a little crush on you hehe. he barely waits for them to walk out the door before shoving you towards the door, forcing you to lock it before shoving his cock into you while you're pushed up against the door- mind you with minimum prep because "You don't deserve it. after that shit." his cock is soooo much thicker like this!!!! >.< and he manages to make his thrusts prove his anger? hips smacking into yours so harshly that it feels like the soundproof door isn't enough to drown any sounds out

what about brat tamer minho who forces you to sit between his legs and watch him jerk himself off? you have a pretty little vibrator thats connect to your clit and your g-spot simultaneously, and he has the controls on his phone that rests in his free hand. he fucks with the controls so much... maybe even teasing u by drawing his full name- in english AND korean- before setting it to the highest setting and leaving it like that until you're cumming at least 3 times.

my sweet binnie who's only mean if you beg him to be or if you reaaaaally push his buttons- maybe throw in a dig or two about how theres another man out there thats better than he is (spoiler: theres literally negative of them). your punishment (reward) is always the same! one of those those sexy ass arms around your neck and squeezing as he fucks into you so roughly that your whole body is jumping forward, your moans cutting off from how aggressive he gives it to you!!!

ok but what about lover boy hyunjin who is actually one of the meanest doms you have ever seen, 99% of the time it being unprompted as well??? the first time you push him to get rough in bed, you're in for ittt~ he ties your wrists up and connects you to the hook in the ceiling, leaving just enough rope for you to be on your tippy toes (also the same hook he previously told you was for painting... yeah, my fucking ass) and speaking of asses, yours is sooo sore from the big handed smacks he leaves there >< he'll always stop if you want it, but otherwise he has no plans to until you submit to him completely <3

whats on the menu for the maknaes today?

definitely munch hannie who ties you up with the most random shit that works- any ties he has laying around, your panties, and sometimes he'll straight up rip his shoelaces out for it?? but it's all so that he can show off the shibari he secretly learned- the main one being a series of knots that tie your arms to a leg each, forcing you wide open for him all the while he eats. and what a messy fucking eater!!! your last 3 orgasms worth of cum dripping down his jaw as he nibbles at your sensitive spots <3

"angel boy" felix me thinks.. who makes you fuck yourself onto him in doggy, refusing to put any effort because he's the "angel" who deserves to be worshipped (yes but...) if you falter even slightly or move to his disliking, you're getting a series of mean smacks- ones that leave a pretty little heart shape in its wake from the pretty pink paddle he insisted on buying (OR HIS INITIALS IF HE GETS A CUSTOM PADDLE OMFFF)

ohhhh but owner seungmin who fucks your brains out with a pretty little collar around your neck <3 (maybe even one also with his initials engraved hehe) he tugs at it to fuck you back onto him, not even need a leash when he slides his finger through one of the loops. huffs and puffs about how tight you are while he actively works to make you tighter, from squeezing your legs together to overstimulating the hell out of you all the while he disallows himself to cum for as long as he can handle, all so when he finally busts theres so much and its all getting fucked right back into you

and god... toy fiend jeongin... the second you let him know you're ok with toys being brought into the bedroom, you're almost regretting everything!!! he's SO fucked up about it >:( he keeps one of those big hands around your throat while the other slides a vibrator as deep into you as it physically can go without causing you pain... and when you squirm around and your legs squeeze together, he's either digging his fingers into your thigh to push them apart or he's biting whatever he's closest to- your thighs, your calf, your shoulder, or (his favorite) your nipples <3

hnnnnng....

Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

@aeri-skzver

[anistarrose]

I'd like to propose a dark horse candidate for the most interesting line in The Book of Bill. And it's this near-unreadable, seemingly one-off joke from the "Skin" page:

[ID: tiny text reading: "Help! This is not Bill Cipher. My name is Grebley Hemberdreck of Zimtrex 5. I'm one of thousands of beings Bill has devoured over trillions of years whose souls are now trapped inside him. You have to free me! It's horrible in here. He just keeps playing the song "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark on an endless loop. Please, please, this is not a joke! The Zimtrexians were once a proud and mighty people, but now our spirits long for release from this..." End ID.]

Okay, so Bill devours souls who then live out a horrible existence inside him. That's just some typical and expected Bill behavior, right? Nothing to be shocked by? Maybe not, but one thing jumps out at me... and of all things, it's the way that Bill keeps playing that Beach Boys parody (correction provided by @fexalted: no, not in fact a Smiley Smile parody, but a real song!) on loop.

Because in The Book of Bill, there's a recurring motif of characters playing music for a very specific reason: to repel an unwanted presence inside their head. This is what Elias Inkwell, and later Ford, did with the "It's A Small World" parody — they tried to keep Bill out of their brains. Or, metaphorically... to drown out his voice.

[ID: a Journal 3 page with a cassette taped inside. It's titled: "The World Is Small Ever After for Always." Ford writes: "If it's war you want, it's war you'll get! If you want to torture me? I'll torture you back!" End ID.]

That doesn't necessarily mean that Bill finds the voices of devoured souls to be troubling, let alone downright haunting, does it? Well... not quite on its own. But there's a "color" code on the page about TV static that says a lot:

[ID: a code consisting of colorful squares, translated to letters that spell out: "he never sleeps he never dreams but somehow still he hears their screams." End ID] (screenshot courtesy of @fexiled)

The context of the page implies these "screams" come to Bill especially when he listens to TV static, and the broader context of the book implies that these are the screams of his destroyed home dimension, Euclydia. Therefore, not necessarily those of the souls he devoured, from Zimtrex 5 and possibly other dimensions.

Except... do those two things really have to be mutually exclusive?

The beings that Bill devoured were accumulated over "trillions" of years, plural, according to Grebley. In Weirdmageddon 1, Bill claims to have resided in the Nightmare Realm for precisely "one trillion" years. So the "devouring" habit probably extends back even further than his time in the Nightmare Realm...

Enter @acetyzias, pointing out a very conspicuous word — and one of the only uncensored words — from Bill's description of destroying his home dimension:

[ID: the word "mandibles". End ID.]

Oh, and how does Bill describe the "monster" that destroyed his home to Ford, when Ford asks about revenge?

[ID: Journal excerpt reading: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." End ID.]

For a long time, Bill's destruction of his home has been associated with fire, even when the story's told by Bill himself. But through the way the book characterizes Bill's guilt — and characterizes how the consequences of what he's done remain lurking deep inside him — I think The Book of Bill lays out the hints for another motif: devouring.

And, well, when it comes to how Bill destroys things... it wouldn't be without precedent.

[ID: screenshot of Bill in Weirdmageddon 3, taking a bite out of the Earth. End ID.]

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 6

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, overthinking/anxiety, reader being lowkey dramatic lol

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ you and rafe arrived at kelce's. inside, you enjoyed kelce's self-made pizza with the three boys, though afterward rafe kept making cryptic comments about you and kelce. after an awkward back-and-forth with rafe about whether you’re interested in kelce, you both settled in to work on your project, only for rafe to unexpectedly invite you to his place the next evening. as you realized his house will be empty, it dawned on you that he might be setting the stage for a hookup.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 4.2k+

✿ A / N ✿ this one has less action or rather serves more as a little breather bc i wanted to focus more on what's going on in reader's head as well as rafe's hihihi. next part will have them interacting in person again :) i hope you guys enjoy and as always super thankful for any support <33

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // T U E S D A Y

3 : 1 4 P M

With a slightly lighter feeling in your chest and a deep sigh, you let your phone slip into your bag.

Most of your conversations with Cara about guys were filled with delusions but every now and then, she somehow found the right words to quiet your overanalyzing brain.

At least for a moment.

You turned onto the street leading to your house, grateful for the short walk and fresh air—though the sun beating down on your cheeks made them feel even warmer than they already were.

Your place was just a short walk from Kelce's, practically around the corner, and honestly, you couldn’t have handled another car ride with Rafe today. Not that it mattered—he hadn’t offered one anyway, which, for some reason, stung more than it should have. So you’d just said goodbye to the three of them, thanked Kelce for the pizza, and left.

And yet, you couldn’t shake how weird the energy between you and Rafe had been after he’d brought up the idea of going to his place tomorrow.

Ugh, you didn’t even want to think about it anymore (it made your stomach twist in all the wrong ways) but your brain kept replaying the conversation on a loop.

"My dad and Rose are at some charity event. Wheezie's on a school trip this week, and Sarah can do whatever she wants, I don't care."

The moment those words had left his mouth, you knew he had to have something else in mind besides just working on a school project.

Rafe’s last known hookup had been weeks ago, so theoretically, it was time for another one.

Or maybe you were completely wrong.

Maybe his grade actually mattered to him because he needed it to graduate and it was just pure coincidence that he was having the house to himself that night. It’s not like he’d explicitly said he was expecting anything more.

In fact, hadn’t he even mentioned that it’d be more relaxing for you to work in a more closed off space than at school? Plus, his weird attempt at trying to calm your nerves with the fidget spinner in his car before that...

Shit, maybe he is just trying to be nice. Maybe this really was just about making sure you were comfortable.

But if it wasn’t… Because somehow, it was hard to believe that Rafe Cameron gave a damn about you after just two days of barely getting to know each other.

So, if you had accepted and the whole thing turned out to be a setup for a hookup, then that would've seriously been the end of you. You’d panic, probably overreact, and make things painfully awkward. Or worse, you’d go along with it out of some stupid fear of looking like a clueless virgin and blowing your unrealistic shot with him.

Just thinking of the idea of having your first time with Rafe Cameron, embarrassing yourself in the process, and—OH GOD.

This was all so… UGH.

You pulled out your keys and stepped into the house, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. Your parents were both busy with work, so you made a beeline for your room and collapsed straight onto your bed.

But isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? Some kind of connection with him, no matter how.

You scowled.

No. Not like this.

Maybe—okay, definitely—you were spiraling, overthinking everything, and projecting ideas onto him that weren’t even true.

Because the truth was, Rafe wasn’t even a fuckboy. You knew that. Yeah, every now and then he was seen leaving a party with a girl, but normally, he'd spend the night with Kelce, Topper, and some other guys in some back room, doing coke or other stupid boy stuff.

Great. Now you felt like shit for completely overreacting. You’d shoved the poor guy into a box and immediately assumed he was just trying to sleep with you.

Which was so stupid, and totally contradicted what you’d been thinking before: that he didn’t want anything to do with you at all.

What the actual fucking fuck is wrong with me?

You buried your face in a pillow and let out a frustrated groan. Your brain had been running at full speed for the past two days.

Cara was right. You were overthinking—just in the opposite direction this time.

And yet… you still didn’t know Rafe’s real intentions and the fear of the unknown was too overwhelming for you to just take that risk.

That’s why earlier you had simply smiled and said, "That’s really nice, the invite, I mean, but I already made plans with Cara tomorrow after school to help her clean out her closet and I have no idea how long that’ll take. Besides, it’s your family-free evening—wouldn’t want you wasting that on a school project."

It was a lie, obviously. You hadn't planned anything with Cara but what else were you supposed to say?

On the first glimpse, Rafe had actually taken it better than you'd expected. He had just shrugged and said, "Aight, so less of a nerd than I’d thought."

You’d given him another nervous smile, and that was it. The topic was closed, and you both went back to working.

But you knew better.

Your whole life, you’d been hyper-aware of the smallest details around you—how someone looked at you, how they reacted, how they spoke, whether they were actually listening, how they behaved after an interaction, the way they smiled—did it reach their eyes or not?

In short, you noticed everything.

And when it came to Rafe, your brain was running on overdrive because that guy? He was a fucking thousand-sided Rubix cube.

Even though he often said unfiltered things without a second thought, his body language always told a much bigger story. That much you had learned in the last two days.

Which was why you had definitely caught the slight hesitation and the way his brows had twitched before he had responded. And in that split second, you knew—he hadn’t liked getting turned down.

Rafe Cameron had an ego. A big one. That much was obvious. And someone like him didn’t take it well when things didn’t go his way, whatever his true intentions with that invitation had been.

So it hadn’t surprised you when he sat a little farther from you after coming back from the bathroom, sinking deeper into the couch with his arms crossed. When his answers and input on the project became noticeably shorter, when his eyes drifted to his Rolex more often, his leg bouncing slightly, or when that effortless charm—the kind you’d assumed was just second nature to him—suddenly felt replaced by a forced, detached sense of cooperation.

Simply put, he probably wasn’t used to rejection. And you had pissed him off.

If it had been Cara or any of your other friends, you would have said something—you hated dealing with that kind of tension. But Rafe wasn’t a close friend, nor was he anywhere near the phase of becoming one.

So, you had endured the rest of the hour with spinning thoughts and felt nothing but relief when he had finally called it a day.

When you walked with Rafe to the porch to say goodbye to Kelce and Topper, you politely declined when Kelce asked if you wanted to stay longer. Said something along the lines of you not being Rafe’s "little nerd chick" or some shit like that and that the invitation to his place also included you actually hanging out with them.

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Not that it mattered. You didn’t care about Kelce. It was the way Rafe had simply given you a nod for a goodbye that had left a bitter taste in your mouth.

And maybe it was in that moment—or rather, in the lack of his usual energy—that you'd realized this was how he treated people who meant absolutely nothing to him.

This, in turn, had sent you spiraling into the worst overthinking session of your life because—WHAT THE HELL DID RAFE CAMERON EVEN WANT?

A good grade? Someone to carry him through art class? A new friends-with-benefits-girlie he would drop after two weeks? A one-time hookup? A harmless friendship? Just the thrill of throwing you off your game?

A relationship was out of the question—he had never shown any interest in that during all his years at Kildare Academy. Every girl who had ever gotten involved with him knew that.

And assuming he was looking for one? Yeah, might as well just sign up to the psych ward.

HELP, I JUST WANNA KNOW IF IT WAS A HARMLESS INVITATION OR NOT.

You wanted to text him right then and there. Hey, so, um, I’ve had a crush on you since fifth grade haha, and now that we’ve actually spent some time together, I keep getting these weird-ass signals from you hahahahha, soooo… what the actual fuck is your problem?

You squinted your eyes in embarrassment and ran your hands over your face in frustration.

Cara would do it, you thought. She’d write the damn text—or hell, even send a voice memo or call him outright. She hated mixed signals with a passion, and something like this, no matter how small, was the kind of thing she wouldn’t just let slide.

Shit. You know what? Why not? Huh? Why shouldn’t I do the same?

Your fingers were already pulling up your phone, hovering over Rafe’s chat.

But then you hesitated.

Aside from the fact that this was a total impulse move, what the hell were you even supposed to say?

Realistically.

Because no matter how you'd phrase it, bringing up weird vibes after just two days would make you sound like some kind of psycho.

Who the hell does that?

Fuck, but why was this messing with your head so much? Why did it bother you so damn much that he’d acted even slightly different? Sure, yeah, you had a crush on him but why were his mood swings affecting you like crazy?

Okay. Relax. Seriously.

Maybe you should text him something else first—just to test the waters. See if he really was being distant, or if you were just spiraling over nothing.

Yeah. Yeah! That sounded like a plan (not a good one but if you didn't do anything you'd go crazy in the next few hours).

And the moment you hit send, all the courage and impulsiveness drained from your body in an instant.

What was Rafe going to think…? Not even an hour had passed since you'd said goodbye, and here you were texting him?

Plus, the text itself sounded so... FUCKING FAKE OH MY HOLY SHIT, UGH THIS WASN'T YOU.

FUCKING HELL, this was so embarrassing. He definitely thinks I’m absolutely desperate for him now. Okay, maybe I can still delete the message before he—

Oh.

Your heart sank straight through the floor, and you suddenly wanted to crawl under your blanket and never see the light of day again.

So he really was annoyed in some way.

Okay, okay, no big deal, everything’s fine, it's all good HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

Except your pulse was racing, and your thoughts were spiraling. That one SpongeBob meme with the burning brain and all the little panicked SpongeBobs running around? That was exactly what was happening in your head right now.

Frantically, you started typing your next message.

The worst part about this whole situation wasn’t this absolutely terrible fake-ass message that made you look even more desperate and needy after his half-assed reply. It wasn’t even the fact that he had read it immediately. Nope—what really did it was the fact, despite reading it right away, he didn’t respond for the next thirty minutes. And not even in the thirty afterward.

And that was the final blow for today.

Completely embarrassed and feeling sick to your stomach, you shut off your phone, buried yourself under your blanket, put on your headphones, and let some random Netflix garbage play in the background. You didn't even bother texting Cara because of how horrible you felt.

Because the truly humiliating part? A tiny part in you, probably your stupid 11-year-old-self, had actually believed, for a tiny second, that there was some kind of spark between you and Rafe—that maybe, just maybe, he had seen something in the quiet girl who sat on the sidelines in class and at parties.

And even worse? The fact you were reacting this intensely to an absolutely non-intense situation. After. Two. Fucking. Days.

I’m insane.

But deep down, it wasn’t just about this one moment. It was the disappointment of being into Rafe for years, finally getting to interact with him for real, and then not getting to live out the before-bedtime scenario that had played out in your head so many times before.

Or maybe it was simply that his reaction had pretty much confirmed what you were trying not to admit: If he had wanted anything from you at all, it was probably something shallow. And your refusal to come over tomorrow had bruised his ego.

Whatever. Screw this. Screw Rafe, his stupid comments, his smug little grin—screw all of it.

You turned up the volume of the movie, trying in vain to drown out your spiraling thoughts. But your mind was a curse and you couldn’t stop wondering what Rafe actually thought of you.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"And now she suddenly wants to meet up again," Rafe said, squinting irritated at your last message. "After bailing on tomorrow. No clue what kind of fucking bullshit this is."

Topper tilted his head. "Thought she just didn’t have time?"

"Yeah, sure. Because she has to help her friend clean out her closet." Rafe scoffed, exhaling annoyed as he let his phone drop onto the porch couch. "I know bullshit excuses when I hear them. Sarah pulls the same shit all the time when she doesn’t feel like helping Rose out."

Kelce nearly choked on a hit from his hookah. "I don’t know, bro, sounds to me like Pussymagnet Cameron just can’t handle getting curved for once."

Rafe’s brows furrowed. "You ever fucking think before opening your stupid mouth?" He crossed his arms, shaking his head. "This is some bullshit. I just wanted to get this fucking project done and now it's getting dragged out even more."

"Oh, of course," Kelce smirked, winking. "It's just about the project. It’s fine, bro, you can admit she’s a cute chick."

Topper nodded. "Yeah, she seems nice. Really quiet but not in a bad way, you know?"

"And?" Rafe pulled a face, gesturing to Kelce in a lazy motion. "She called that idiot ‘nice’ too but we both know he’s a shitface."

This time, Kelce actually choked on the hookah smoke. "She did?"

"I’m just saying she’s not loud and all over you like the girls that you usually hang out with", Topper replied, scratching his chin. "I also don't remember her ever being involved in any weird girl drama."

Rafe let out a dry breath. "Nah, the way she acts sometimes? Makes me think I'm talking to two different people. One moment she's all shy and anxious and the next she's got this big-ass attitude like she's on some Two-Face type shit."

"Oh, I bet she's a freak under all that shy girl exterior", Kelce said, grinning, but the other two ignored him.

"So, you're weirded out because she got a ... personality?" Topper asked and shook his head as if he couldn’t quite keep up. "Not everyone's as upfront with their self as Kelce, you know."

Rafe crossed his arms behind his head, already annoyed by this whole conversation. He didn’t even know why he was talking to these two idiots about you in the first place.

"I'm just pissed off at whatever bullshit she has suddenly going on", he said.

Topper raised an eyebrow. "Okay but why didn't you call her out immediately?"

"Yeah", Kelce chimed in. "Always talking big and now you puss out."

Rafe narrowed his eyes like he was debating whether to deck Kelce or let his bullshit slide. "Because I need this stupid project to work out, alright?" Rafe shook his head, his expression twisting slightly, feeling weirded out by this whole conversation. "And 'cause she’s always so fucking tense and nervous like I'm holding her at gunpoint. Shit's annoying as fuck."

He exhaled heavily but he couldn't shake the feeling that you were indeed throwing him off in some weird inexplicable way. And sometimes your cautious behavior reminded him of Wheezie which made your nervousness feel kinda familiar. And that was literally the only reason why he could tolerate your shit.

Plus, objectively speaking, you were cute and Rafe enjoyed flustering you way too much.

"Sounds like she’s pissed she got stuck with you as a partner, bro", Kelce said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "Probably figured out you’re just hanging on her ass to pass the class."

For some reason, that pissed Rafe off more than it should have but before he could snap back, Topper cut in. "I think you’re just overwhelming her."

Both Rafe and Kelce turned to him with matching confused stares.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Rafe pulled a face.

Topper shrugged. "Bringing her straight here, you know… I mean Kelce alone is already a lot and maybe this was just moving too fast for her, I don't know. She doesn't seem the type to hang out with guys a lot."

"Moving too fast?”, Rafe asked, leaning forward with squinted eyes. “Dude, what the actual fuck are you talking about?"

"I’m just saying—"

"She thinks you're trying to get into her pants", Kelce explained, amused.

This time, it was Topper who pulled a face. "No! That’s not—"

"Okay," Rafe cut him off, rubbing his nose in irritation. "Both of you shut the fuck up. Neither of you knows shit."

Kelce smirked. "Aww, sounds like she's messing with your head."

That was enough.

Rafe would’ve loved nothing more than to slam his fist into Kelce’s face right then and there but instead he stood up, grabbing his keys. "Okay, heard enough bullshit from you two today."

“I didn’t say anything!”, Topper protested and Kelce just waved after him with a “See you tomorrow, bro."

And yet, as much as that conversation with the two biggest idiots on Earth had irritated Rafe, it had also made him think. Which was a damn weird feeling, because normally, he didn’t waste a second thought on stuff like this—or better yet, on any girl.

Especially not on one who'd never really caught his attention in all the years at Kildare Academy. Sure, somewhere in the back of his mind, his subconscious had probably registered your presence. He knew you existed—your last name was recognizable, after all.

But as a person? You were more of a fleeting thought, like Oh shit, she actually talks? whenever you spoke up in class every few weeks, or Huh, cute chick in that corner, when you were tipsy on some random couch, laughing loudly with your friend at a party.

But that was about it.

Rafe surely wasn’t the kind of guy to waste brainpower on what he saw as background characters who occasionally made noise. And besides, he wasn’t exactly drawn to what appeared like boredom.

So, at first, he was actually kind of annoyed when Mr. Smith paired him up with the quiet girl. Because, yeah—as his graduation forecast had made clear, Art might be his ticket to scraping by in high school, but how the hell was he supposed to pull that off if his partner was basically a mute rock?

On top of that, you seemed like a total nerd, and he figured if you realized he wasn’t going to put in any effort, you’d rat him out. And that would be the end of his diploma, meaning his dad would be horribly disappointed and that was something Rafe was trying his hardest to avoid. No way in hell would he allow Sarah to be the family's favorite.

So, he was determined to get this shitty-ass project over with as fast and as well done as possible. First day, straight to work, setting the base for this fuckass project, sticking to your side to make you believe he was trying to put in effort. That had to be the way to impress someone like you, right?

Yeah, he’d expected your first lunch together to end in painfully awkward silence—the kind that would have him wanting to put a bullet in his head from sheer boredom.

But he’d been wrong.

Sure, at first, he’d had to push things along but with a shy girl like you that was to be expected. What he hadn’t predicted was how blunt you were without you even realizing it. And the absolute crazy part? If Kelce, Topper, that bitch Ruthie, or literally any other idiot said the things you did, it would made his blood boil.

But somehow, with you, it didn’t feel like ... you were mocking or judging him or some shit like that. Your honesty surprised him so much that most of the time he was too amused to seriously confront you about it.

In fact, Rafe found it oddly refreshing.

On top of that, he was used to people sucking up to him, trying to get on his good side because of his dad, or going out of their way to impress him. And why wouldn’t they? He was a fucking Cameron. But you? No clue what was wrong with you but you acted like you were trying to do the exact opposite.

You didn’t try to grab his attention. Most of the time you didn’t just sit there when he ran his mouth. You didn’t kiss his ass with over-the-top compliments or ask about the family business with that fake, polite bullshit—no, you had actually asked him how he was doing today.

Right after he'd asked you to wait in the car when that fucking idiot Scott had shown up, trying to buy a bag of coke. Rafe had nearly slammed him against the damn car because how fucking stupid could you be, doing that on school grounds?

Afterward, he’d been pissed. But instead of teasing him about it or lecturing him about his attitude like his dad would have, you’d just… asked if he was okay.

And the worst part? You actually seemed like you'd meant it.

For a split second, Rafe had even considered venting on how much everything pissed him off. Not just the jerk Scott, no fucking everything that had been on his mind in the past few weeks. It had been right there on the tip of his tongue.

Shit, he was glad he'd held back because what the fuck made him even consider it?

The fact, you'd somehow given him the feeling of not being judged??? The fuck. Shit, he'd probably sniffed a line too much last weekend because this was fucking crazy.

That would also explain why he was so tense today.

Like when his blood started boiling when Kelce had been drooling over you today. Or when Topper had started sucking up to you—probably just hoping to get another shot with your best friend through you—but still, somehow Rafe had to try even harder to hold back his temper than usual.

Shit, up until now, he hadn’t given a single fuck about you. But this? Whatever the hell had flipped in his brain after Kelce had opened his mouth when he first spotted you two... it was messing with him.

And why he’d asked you so insistently about Kelce earlier? Rafe had no fucking idea. All he knew was that it bugged him when you'd changed the subject instead of giving him a straight answer.

Wait, no. He knew why it fucked with his head: you weren’t interested in him.

Sure, you got all flustered whenever Rafe made some suggestive comment or shit like that but he figured that was due to your general awkwardness and inexperience (yeah, you were definitely a virgin). But you didn’t try to win him over with sweet smiles and compliments, and you didn’t even laugh at his jokes (what the fuck).

Shit, you even shifted away from him earlier in the car, when he reached over to your side to grab the fuckass fidget spinne. Seriously, what the fuck had that been about?

Oh, and then you had the nerve to turn down his invitation to continue this stupid project tomorrow at his place—with some cheap-ass excuse? Holy shit, that had really pissed him off. He’d never been denied by a chick.

Rafe couldn’t afford to screw up this project though, or he would’ve called you the fuck out on it right then and there. Because why the fuck would you say no, unless you actually couldn’t stand him?

Or was that idiot Topper right? Was Rafe being too overwhelming or some shit like that?

Of course, he had noticed that you seemed to spend a lot of time in your own head. Wheezie was like that and it wasn't always for the better. So, was there a possibility that you were overthinking his invitation like you had with the whole coming-over-to-Kelce situation?

The thought made him scowl.

Silently, Rafe pulled his Mercedes into the Tannyhill garage and shut off the engine, his fingers drumming relentlessly on the steering wheel.

What Kelce had said came back into his mind and his mood went down through the floor. Rafe knew that idiot didn't know shit and he'd just been running his mouth as usual and yet it messed with his head.

But did you actually think he was trying to get in your pants?

Sure, he wasn’t gonna lie—you were pretty to look at. But Rafe wasn’t some horny dog trying to shove his dick up the ass of every random girl he met. And he'd thought he'd made that very clear. In fact, just yesterday at lunch, you'd also made it very clear you did NOT think of him like that.

And moreover, he even mentioned he just wanted you to fucking relax for once because your weird behavior was throwing him off in some annoying way.

So what the fuck was your problem?

Pissed off, Rafe picked up his phone from the middle console, eyeing your last text message.

You wanted to meet up again on Thursday. The fuck? Was this some kind of fucked up power move? Turning him down, so he could be the one to dance to your bidding?

Nah. Fuck that.

Rafe wouldn’t let some random chick play games with him. So he started typing.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

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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[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter XVI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 9.261 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

HAD MY FIRST DAY AT UNI YESRTEDAY YALL!I'm so sorry that I'm now just posting once a week instead of every 3 days, but Uni Prep had me in a frenzy, lmao. I'm gonna try my best to keep up with the posting schedule for you guys' sakes because seeing you like this is literally my therapy. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

The wind screams past your ears.

Your fingers are clenched so tightly around the throttle that they ache, the roar of the bike's engine rattling through your bones. Cold air whips against your skin, sharp and punishing, your hair flying wild behind you, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

Your heart is still pounding, slamming, against your ribcage at a speed more punishing than the one you’re driving at.

You shouldn’t be driving this fast.

You know you shouldn’t be driving this fast.

Your stomach lurches at the thought—JJ’s hands on the bike, the reckless speed, the way he took those turns just to scare you. The memory hits you, sharp and brutal—the screech of metal, the asphalt rushing up to meet you, the burn of terror that rose up your throat as the bike scraped against the pavement.

You should have learned your lesson —You should be driving slowly. But you can still feel Rafe’s hands on you. You still hear his voice, soft, certain, suffocating.

"I know you love me.""You’ll learn.""We’re meant to be."

Your stomach turns violently.

The moment plays over and over in your mind, tangled up in itself, looping like a nightmare you can’t wake up from. His breath against your skin, the way he grabbed you, kissed you, forced you still. The way he spoke about that night, about your skirt, about something from three fucking years ago—something you don’t even remember.

That’s what horrifies you the most.

That he does remember.

Because he’s been thinking about it, obsessing over it, building his own fantasy out of this memory.

This memory that you don't even have.

He’s been letting you play at getting to know him for a week. Letting you cling to the slivers of information he gives you, trying to piece him together, while he’s known you, analyzed you, thought about you, been around you for YEARS.

You press harder on the gas.

Shoreline rushes up too quick, too bright, too loud. The street lights blur into the flickering neon signs, into the colors of the setting sun that smear together like paint across the sky. Your eyes dart, searching, frantic, you barely see. The speed is too much, the light is too much, the sounds are too much, everything inside you rages, raves, roars, as if you’re being consumed by a vortex that’s settled inside your brain and is destroying everything around it.

Until—

Barry.

You recognize him immediately, the posture, the carelessness, even without seeing his face. His head is in his hands, a cigarette burning between his fingers, the glow of it flickering with every slow inhale. His elbows rest on his knees, his whole body slumped forward, exhaling in a long, steady breath.

You cut the engine.

The moment he hears it, he’s up.

Barry moves fast, his head snapping up, eyes immediately locking onto yours. He’s already moving toward you before you even get both feet on the ground, already talking, already scolding—

How the fuck did you get here so fast— Whe— where's your helmet—?

But you don’t let him finish.

Your body moves before your mind does—you’re running, running into him, your arms wrapping around his torso as if he were a lifeline. 

Your fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt, face burying into his chest, the warmth of him seeping through your skin, his scent wrapping around you like something steady, something solid.

You feel him freeze for a second. Like he doesn’t understand. Like this is something new. – What— Sweetheart, what happened?

You shake your head, still buried in his embrace, still clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping you on the ground. – I hate this bike. – You mumble, the first excuse that comes to mind. – I hate the moron that invented a bike, I hate you for having a bike and I don't wanna ride a bike ever again.

He laughs, relaxes.

His arms tighten around you.

His hand slides up, pressing against the back of your head, steady, grounding. His other hand curls around your waist, fingers pressing firm, protective. His breath is slow and steady, even as his heart pounds beneath your cheek.

Neither of you say anything for a moment. 

Barry holds you. Solid. Grounded. Real. But inside, you’re still moving.

The speed is still dragging at your sides. The road is still rushing past you, blurring at the edges, folding in on itself like a wave crashing over your head.

And Rafe—

Rafe is still there.

You feel shaken loose, untethered. You’ve stepped off the bike but haven’t stopped moving. You’re still hurtling forward at full speed, no breaks, but there’s no road beneath you anymore.

His voice.

His hands.

His grip.

Barry shifts. You feel it—the slight flex of his fingers against your back, the slow, careful breath he exhales against your hair.

– Sweetheart, – His voice is softer now, quieter. Like he can feel it. Like he can tell you’re still buzzing, barely keeping it together. His hand drags slow, deliberate, up and down your back. He's trying to soothe you, but it’s not working. – It’s just the speed. You went too fast. You’re gonna be okay. Just breathe.

You try.

But the air feels too thick, too heavy. And it catches in the way down your lungs like Rafe’s hands are still tight around your windpipe, like he’s still blocking the way.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your face deeper into his chest.

He's warm —You try to focus on that, on the warmth of him. On the way he holds you like a straightjacket.

He's here.

You're here.

Away from Rafe.

Out of his grip.

Out of danger.

Barry sighs, long and slow, his chin dipping slightly, his arms wrapping a little tighter—like he’s letting you hold on as much as you need.

You wish it were enough.

You wish it could just pull the feeling out of you.

But Rafe’s voice still lingers.

You move your head, and when your ears rustle through the fabric of Barry’s shirt, and you swear you can hear Rafe’s laughter in it.

A shudder rolls through you.

Barry feels it.

His grip tightens instantly.

– Hey. – His voice is firmer now, edged with something sharper, something protective. – Are you sure it’s just the bike?

You just nod your head again.

You can’t talk about this.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Barry exhales, long and slow, like he’s trying to steady himself as much as you. His fingers press against your waist, curling slightly, keeping you in place, steady, solid.

You burrow closer. The warmth of him, you try to remind yourself. Focus on that. On the smoke and the menthol and the burn of something headier that wraps around you like a shield, like something solid, something that won’t crumble under your touch.

Barry shifts. Just slightly. – Sweetheart. – His voice is quiet. Not teasing. Not scolding. Soft. Careful. – You're shaking.

Your throat feels tight. 

Your fingers curl into his shirt.

You don’t know how to answer.

Because what are you supposed to say? You can’t tell him the truth. You can't tell him that you can still feel Rafe's hands on you. That his voice is still echoing in your head, that his grip still lingers around you as if it were carved into your skin, that you feel like you’re suffocating in your own body?

You shake your head again, a sharp, desperate movement, and Barry feels it.

His grip tightens.

Barry shifts again, just barely, just enough that you feel it—the flex of his fingers, the way his chest rises against yours, the way he exhales, slow and heavy.

But he doesn’t let go.

And for a moment, you think he relaxes into it, that he holds you as if he’s just trying to ground himself on you as well.

He clears his throat. Stiffens the slightest bit.

– You’re still shaking. – He tries again. Softer this time, but it doesn’t last. – Are you crying? What—Sweetheart, what's going on?

You shake your head, swallowing hard, clutching him even tighter. The fear is still there, still pressing against your ribs, still sitting heavy in your throat.

– The bike, – You mumble against his chest. – I thought I was gonna die. It's— Your voice drifts, cold, gone. The words come out before you can stop them. – It’s like he's right here. Like we're—

Barry stiffens immediately, his expression shifting from worry to rage. His arms tighten around you, breath going sharper, faster, like he’s trying to hold back a reaction.

You feel his jaw twitch where it rests against your head. – He ain’t gonna get to you again, okay? – Your heart stumbles. Your pulse spikes. You swish the words around in your mind, trying to believe it. You let the gravel of his voice comfort you, echo around you, and it's warm, his arms are tight, and the ache in your bones is almost forgotten. – JJ ain’t gonna try any of that shit with you, not when I’m here. I promise.

JJ.

It almost confuses you, because there’s so much shit going on, it takes you a moment to remember what it was exactly that JJ did to piss Barry off. You nearly forgot that he almost killed you— You barely remember the way he acted, the way he threw you on the bike, the way he spat at you like he wanted you to bleed.

All you remember is how small he looked when it was over —How he sat there, next to you, hunched over, voice hoarse, begging. How he crumbled, pathetic and groveling, when he realized that you were not gonna relent.

But none of it matters.

Not anymore.

It's not JJ’s hands you feel anymore. 

It's Rafe's.

The way he grabbed you, like you were nothing, like you were a thing.

The things he said to you.

Barry’s grip tightens, his arms wrapping around you even closer – Hey— His voice drops lower, quieter. His comforting voice. His calm-her-down voice. – It’s okay. I got you. He ain't gonna try that again. You're gonna have to get back on that thing, though, sweetheart. – He dips his head lower, his breath warm against your temple, his voice even softer now, steady, grounding. – I’ll take you back home. We’ll go slow, yeah?

You freeze.

The fear comes crashing back, sharp and suffocating, pressing against your ribs, clawing up your throat. – No! – You say it too fast. Too firm.

Barry pulls back slightly. Not letting go. Not pushing. Just enough to see your face, to search your expression, to figure out what the fuck is going on.

His brows draw together.

His hand tightens.

His eyes narrow.

– Sweetheart—

You don’t let him. Barry has a way of jumping to conclusions, and this conclusion is so obvious that you fear a second of rationalization will get him to the truth. – There’s a grocery store around the corner. I just passed it. We need to go shopping anyway, Bee. Let’s just get it over with, please.

You just need some time.

A distraction.

You’ll buy the things to make a decent meal—something to sink your focus into, something to keep your hands busy and your mind preoccupied until you have to look Rafe in the eye again. By then, there’ll be dishes to wash, leftovers to put away, a mess to clean. 

You’ll have an excuse to keep moving, to keep yourself from having to talk to Rafe face-to-face.

When that’s done you’ll all go to sleep and you'll only actually have to face him in the morning.

Crisis averted.

You can deal with this, but only if you don’t actually have to face it. – C'mon. Let’s go there, I'll figure out something to make for us.

You pull on him, turning, but he locks you in place.

Barry hesitates, lips pressing together like he’s weighing whether to say something. He exhales, almost sheepish, as if he were embarrassed. – I ain’t got money on me right now.

You blink, momentarily thrown off.

– That’s fine, – You say, brushing it off with a wave of your hand. – I’m the one paying.

Barry scoffs immediately, almost flinching like the suggestion physically pained him. – No. No— no you’re not.

– Bee— You start, but he’s already shaking his head, gaze flicking away like the conversation is beneath him.

– You’re not paying for my food.

– I'm making food for both of us. – You try, softer this time. – The last check from the Wreck just cleared. And now that I’m not splitting the bills with someone, I can afford to spend more on groceries.

Barry’s expression shifts, the casual defiance slipping just slightly. His jaw tightens, brows pulling together in a deep furrow.

There’s another scoff, but this one feels off—less dismissive, more unsettled. His grip on you loosens as if he'd let go, but his shoulders don’t relax and his arms are still around you, tense, but grounding. He’s staring at you now, like he’s trying to decipher something he didn’t realize he needed to.

– What the hell do you mean you’re paying bills? – His voice is sharper this time, laced with something like offense. – Why would you pay any bills at my place?

Your stomach drops.

Oh.

Of course. A place to crash, not a home.

The thought comes quick, instinctive, like a splinter working its way under your skin. You nod fast, pulling back to save face before he has the chance to walk it back, before guilt can make him soften the edges of what he just said.

– Yeah, – You clear your throat, looking away. – I just meant—I’m looking around already. You know I’ll figure something out soon.

Barry’s frown deepens. His fingers flex against your arms. – What? No—That ain’t— His grip tightens again, like the idea of you leaving has only just registered. Like he’s trying to hold onto it before you slip away. – You ain’t figuring anything out, – He says, almost angry. – You’re staying! Sweetheart, it’s our place. My house is your house. That's how it's always been, and that's how it's gonna stay.

Your breath catches.

He says it so simply. So easily. Like it’s never even been a question.

Your fingers curl slightly into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself. The knot in your chest loosens, the weight of that sinking feeling lifting just enough for you to breathe again.

– Then what—? – You exhale sharply, still trying to catch up. – I can’t stay at your house and not pay bills. You’re not even gonna let me pay for groceries?

That offended expression flashes over Barry's face again, and now he steps away, laughing. – What, you think I’m a bitch, like your brother? That I’m gonna let you waste your money on this shit like you ain’t paying for me to do nothing? – He scoffs, cold, reprehensive. – That's not me, sweetheart. I'm not letting you provide shit like I'm your kid.

– Jesus, Barry. It's not like I’m not offering to be your sugar mommy. I just wanna buy groceries. I can’t eat the food at your house.

He raises a brow, a ghost of a grin on his lips. – What? It ain’t gourmet enough for you?

– Exactly. – You feel yourself smile, the weight in your chest easing the slightest bit. – I am a lady, Bee. And cup noodles are just depressing, I can’t let you eat like that. If I’m staying at your house—

– You are. 

– Well, then you’re gonna be eating what I’m eating. And I’m not eating fucking cup noodles. I’m making us actual food. 

Barry scoffs, tilting his head at you. – What, so I gotta eat your fancy Kook shit now? Do I gotta move to figure eight too? Start wearing polos and talking like I got a concussion?

You roll your eyes, the laughter falling from your lips before you can stop it. – Just cause I work for kooks, it doesn’t mean I cook like one.

– Sounds like the same thing to me. – He scoffs. – Do rich people even cook at all? I thought that was the reason you had a job to begin with. That they can’t do anything for themselves.

– Thank God for that. The Camerons are paying me almost three times what I got at the Wreck. I'm not getting that payout at any restaurant in the state.

He chuckles, scratching his head. – Maybe I should break the pipes at their place, they'd probably get me more than what I'm getting paid to hustle.

“Hustle” You don't comment on that.

– You’re already getting paid twice the minimum wage a week just to provide merchandise to their junkie son, aren’t you? Think you can do better than that?

Barry makes a face. – I’m not the one babysitting him, am I?

It hits you like a slap in the face.

You swallow thickly, looking away, and change the subject. – What was the last vegetable you ate, Bee?

Barry makes a face, immediately suspicious. – Why you askin’ me trick questions?

– The only thing I know about your eating habits is that your favorite thing is grits and that you eat like a raccoon. I need to know what I'm working with here.

– You gonna private chef me now? – He chuckles, smiling stupidly as he drags a hand through his hair. – Gonna wear a maid outfit too?

– Name one vegetable you ate before I smack your head in the pavement.

Barry laughs, humming, dragging it out way too long, like he’s deep in thought.

Finally, he snaps his fingers.

– Potatoes. Had some french fries just last week.

You blink, unamused. – That doesn't count.

– The fuck you mean they don’t count? They grow outta the ground, don’t they?

– Mushrooms grow out of the ground too, I don’t see you scarfing those down.

Barry grins, tilting his head at you. – You cookin' mushrooms?

You cross your arms. – Maybe.

– Then I’ll eat 'em.

You narrow your eyes. – Just like that?

He shrugs. – Yeah. If you make 'em, I’ll eat 'em.

Barry’s looking at you now, really looking at you, like he’s only just realized how close you still are, how your fingers are still curled into the fabric of his shirt, how you’re still clinging to this conversation like it’s the only thing keeping you steady.

His gaze flickers—down, then back up.

– Sweetheart—

You don’t let him finish.

– We should get ice cream, – You say, forcing the lightness back into your voice, into the space between you. – I think I deserve ice cream after almost dying on that stupid bike.

Barry lets the moment pass. Lets you have it. 

He snorts. – Now who's eatin’ like a raccoon?

You grin, tugging him toward the store. – I’m a refined raccoon. It’s different.

He laughs, shaking his head as he lets you pull him along. – Yeah, alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say. – He groans, stretches, throwing an arm around your back. – It better be some dinner if Rafe fucking Cameron is gonna be there when we’re back. – He groans, stretches, pulling you along as he steps towards the grocery store.

Your chest tightens at the mention— You do your best not to show it. You try to keep it down. Push it down. Because if it surfaces, it’ll consume you. You won’t be able to pull yourself out of it.

You can’t.

Not now.

Not here.

Because Barry knows you too well. Because he’s already suspicious. Because if you freeze, if you flinch, if you so much as breathe wrong—he’ll catch it. – Let’s not talk about that. – You pull him along. – You know what? I should make some steak, – You say, too quickly, too light. It’s not fair how easy it is to pretend that everything is fine. – You like steak, don’t you?

Barry hums. Relaxed. Unaware.

– I’d never turn down a steak. 

– Hard to imagine you turning anything down.  

Barry feigns a gasp, chuckling. – You think I’m easy like that, do you? 

– I know you are. Slut. – You shoulder him softly, and he gasps again, pushing you back. – Skirt steak and roast potatoes, then, since you like them so much. – You say. – I’ll throw some broccoli and carrots in the mix, so you remember what other vegetables look like. Some charro beans. How's that sound?

Barry glances at you, something unreadable in his eyes. – Like more than I deserve.

– Well Bee, you get nothing but the five star treatment when you’re with me. – Barry goes quiet for half a second, his smile absent-minded. You push forward before he can think too hard about it. – Besides, if I cook something good, maybe you’ll be too full to beat Rafe up. – The name is bitter, the memory even more so, but you smile nonetheless, your leg brushing against his as you walk. – Please don’t, by the way. He is my boss.

Barry's expression sours immediately. – Yeah, he is also a rich jerk-off who does nothing but piss me off. Who owes me a fuck-ton of money. Who took the bike he left me as fucking collateral and dipped. The least I could fucking do is beat him up.

– I'm begging you. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it— He does. – Barry laughs, you try to bite back your feelings. – But please. Please. Don't beat him up. Not here. Not now.

He eyes you for a moment. Quiet, frustrated. He bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. – I won’t. But don't forget that he deserves it. Sweetheart, you could make a fuckin’ ribeye and cover it in gold, and it still ain’t gonna fix whatever the hell is wrong with that guy.

– You never know. – You mull on his unintended insult for a second, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. – Food is powerful.

Barry snorts. Tension gone. Subject changed

He side-eyes you, smirking, the gold tooth catching the last dying rays of sun before you’re both consumed by the artificial lights bleeding from the store. – Yeah? If it’s powerful then why hasn’t it fixed my life yet?

– Because you keep eating gas station burritos instead of my cooking.

Barry laughs, loud, unrestrained, shaking his head as he nudges you forward, leading you into the store. – Your brother ate your food his whole life and he’s still a bum, though.

– Ouch. – You laugh. – You’re the jerk-off. I should let you starve.

– You won’t, you love me too much. – He squeezes your side, looking across the store. – I’ll go get the beef. Skirt, right?

– Yeah. Or flank, whatever’s cheaper.

He nods, squeezing your waist one last time before wandering off. It’s colder now, and you feel the air conditioning biting into you as you drift down the isles, throwing this or that thing in the shopping basket.

The air inside the store is too cold, too bright, too artificial. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, washing everything in a pale, almost sterile glow. The faint hum of pop music drifts from the speakers, clashing against the quiet murmur of late-evening shoppers, the slow beeping of cash registers, the rustle of plastic bags.

Your fingers tighten around the shopping basket, the plastic biting into your palm.

Steak. Potatoes. Broccoli. Carrots.

You move automatically, grabbing, searching, tossing things inside.

But now that Barry's gone, your brain takes the silence as a license to keep tormenting you.

The memories loop.

Rafe's hands. 

His shallow breath.

His eyes, not blown out, but frantic.

The way his hands curled around your wrist, tight, unyielding. The certainty in his voice, the delusion of his words.

You blink hard, shake your head.

Milk.

You need to find the milk, the beans, the onions.

It’s easier to think about things you can control. Easier to think about the cooking.

Soak the beans. Sauté the onions. Brown the beef.

You reach for soke shallots, cheaper and in season, scanning them thoroughly. You should sautee them in butter. You should think about something other than the person waiting for you at Barry’s place.

You hear your name. 

The voice is soft. Uneven. Familiar.

– I’m here, Bee. – You call, the words leave absentmindedly. You keep looking through the onions, the garlic, the fresh peppers. He puts his hand on your back, warm, casual. – That was quick. What’s wrong? They out of flank?

Your body reacts before your brain does.

You turn. You smile  instinctively. 

But it’s not Barry that is standing there next to you.

It’s JJ.

Blue eyes boring into yours, shoulders tense, head ducked slightly like he’s bracing for impact, like he's waiting for you to turn around and leave. Looking at you like he already knows he doesn’t deserve to be there.

The air shifts.

The cold seeps in deeper.

Your stomach twists as you look at him.

The bruises on his face have gotten darker. Where before there was mostly yellow blotches and hues of purple, now he’s full-on black and blue, a blue as dark as the shirt he’s wearing. – I look bad, huh? – He chuckles awkwardly, and his fingers twitch against your back, briefly fisting the fabric of your top in his hand. – You know I’m not Barry’s biggest fan, but I gotta give it to him, he’s got one hell of a right hook. 

That awkward laugh falls from his lips again, his shoulders tensing, his free hand squeezing tightly around the handle of a six pack.

You don’t know what to say.

If you even should say anything.

He doesn’t give you the time. 

If there’s one thing JJ can’t handle it’s silence, especially when he’s fucked up. – What are you doing here? I mean, not that you can’t be here— you are, and you can—I’m glad you’re here. I— You don’t come to Shoreline often, that’s what I mean. – He rambles, staring, gripping, shifting restlessly on his feet. – You’re— shopping? What are you cooking? Flank, right? What is it? Carne asada?

You just stare.

For a second, it’s like your brain lags, stutters, refuses to process what’s happening.

The last time you saw JJ, he was pleading, bargaining, breaking down in that police station.

Now he’s here, standing in front of you, babbling, shifting around, looking at you as if it were nothing, as if this were a casual conversation between two people who have no stakes in each other's lives.

You blink. 

Your fingers tighten around the shopping basket.

– I— You stop. Shake your head. – It’s nothing.

You regret speaking as soon as you do, because JJ relaxes immediately, he breathes in deeper, he almost smiles. Latching onto the slightest response as if it will redeem him.

– Come on, – He says, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. – You don’t cook ‘nothing.’ You’re too much of a perfectionist for that. What is it? Something fancy? Something— He swallows. Tries to sound casual. – Something for Barry?

Your stomach twists.

You should lie. 

You should say no.

But your silence answers for you.

JJ’s jaw tics. His fingers flex against the six-pack.

– I figured you were staying with him. – His voice is lighter than it should be. Like he’s forcing himself to pretend this isn’t a big deal. Like he’s trying not to sound hurt. Like he doesn’t realize he’s the reason you don’t have anywhere else to go. – You could’ve— He tsks, looking over his shoulder, then back at you. – You could’ve done better than that. You could’ve stayed with me.

The urge to laugh bubbles up unexpectedly.

He says it as if he wasn’t the one that forced you out of your house. As if he hadn’t told you never to come back. 

He’s trying his best to act like he hasn’t done anything. Because JJ has never been able to sit with what he’s done.

He doesn’t think about what comes after. 

He doesn’t think about how his actions affect people.

He just moves. Reacts. Regrets.

Now, he’s standing in front of you, waiting for you to fix this for him, as if he wasn’t the one who broke it in the first place.

He wants you to forget.

But you just exhale slowly, steadying yourself.

To tell him it’s fine.

To tell him you forgive him.

To make it easy.

– I’m leaving now.

His face falls. – Baby, wait— He pleads. But you’re already turning, already walking, already done with this conversation before it can even begin.

JJ grabs your arm.

Not rough. Not like Rafe. But desperate.

His fingers curl around your wrist, warm, pleading, shaking just slightly. – Just—just talk to me. Please. Please, just talk to me. – The façade is gone. Not a trace of the hal-hazard casual mask he had on before,  just this pitiful, pathetic look in his eyes as he looks at you.

You already know where this is going.

– JJ—

– I fucked up, okay? – He talks over you, voice rushed, frantic, scrambling for something to hold onto. It’d almost surprise you that he would admit it, if you didn’t know that he was gonna take it back and make it your fault at some point. – I know I fucked up. I know I ruined it. I know I was being a dick, I know I was— I was out of line, but, you gotta believe me, I— I didn’t mean to—I was just angry, fuck I was so angry—Because I can’t—I can’t think when it comes to you, okay?! You drive me insane. I— I don’t know what’s going on with me.

You inhale slowly. 

You don’t let yourself look at him. 

You scan the aisles instead. Because you know Barry’s gotta be looking around for you.

And if he sees JJ’s hand around your arm— If he sees JJ gripping your wrist, yanking you back, getting in your face— That’ll be the end of it.

He won’t let that go.

And you know damn well neither of them can afford another visit to the police station.

– Let go of me. – You say, your voice soft, softer than he deserves.

– Just listen to me— just for a minute— His grip tightens slightly as you try to pull away, and he tugs you forward, hard. – I hate this. I hate it when you do this to me. You won’t even look at me. Just talk to me—

– Talk to you about what?! – The words leave you before you can stop them. You know you shouldn’t say anything. You know you should just let him suffocate in the silence, think about what he’s done until it actually drives him insane. But you can’t. Because the only thing JJ is actually good at is eroding at your patience. – What the fuck do you want me to talk about, JJ?! You nearly killed me, you kicked me out of my house, you tried to get me fired, what’s next? Is there anything in my life you’re not willing to ruin? Maybe that’s why you’re talking to me. Maybe you saw me with Barry and decided that I should just not have friends as well as a place to live, as well as a brother. That I just shouldn’t have anything at all.

His breath catches.

He flinches like you just hit him.

Like he suddenly, finally, understands how bad he fucked up.

But you’re not stupid enough to believe he actually did. Because you and him have been through this before, and yet you’re still here. – That’s not—Baby, I just—

– What?! What, JJ?! You just what?!

– I just want you with me. – He pleads. His voice low, his eyes burning into your with a desperation you haven’t seen in months. 

But it rings hollow, because he’s been this way before and that didn’t stop him from going out of his way to fuck with you again.

– You want me with you? – You scoff. – So you tried to kill me and kicked me out of my place? That’s a method I haven’t heard before.

He swallows, his jaw ticks, and he sways on his feet, pulling away the slightest bit before he leans back in, dragging you closer. – You don’t get it. I don’t— He breathes, heaves, his eyes dark. – I don’t want you with anybody. I just want you with me. Just with me. Not with Barry. Not with Rafe. Not even with John B. I don’t— I don’t want you around them.

You laugh before you can stop yourself. – Oh, that’s the reason. You want to ruin my life because you don’t want me near my best friend, my boss’ son or my actual brother?! That’s what you’re going with?

– DON’T— His voice raises, he stops himself, holding you tighter, looking at you with something almost feral in his eyes. – Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like that’s just what they are to you, because you know it’s not. You know.

– Excuse me?!

– Stop it. Stop doing this. Stop playing with me.

– You’re the one who’s fucking playing JJ. I get it that you’d think that Barry or Rafe are something more to me, because you’ve been never been friends with a girl— sorry, let me rephrase that— you’ve never been near a girl without thinking about fucking her. But my brother?! You’re that fucking twisted that you think my brother wants something more with me?

For a moment, JJ doesn’t say anything.

His grip is still firm, but he doesn’t yank you again. Doesn’t try to pull you closer.

He just stares.

There’s something unhinged in his eyes—wide, unblinking, mouth parted slightly like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. Like his mind is moving too fast for his lips to catch up.

Then his head shakes, slow and disbelieving. He exhales sharply, through his nose, like he’s biting back something ugly.

– You don’t get it. – His voice is quieter now, but no less dangerous. – You never fucking get this, do you?

A flicker of something ugly coils in your stomach.

– No, JJ. You don’t get it. – You shake your head, frustration bubbling over. – I’m done. I’m done playing these fucking games with you. Whatever you think you have to say, whatever excuse you’re about to pull out of your ass—I don’t care.

JJ stiffens, like the words physically hit him.

You rip your wrist free. But he doesn’t let you go far.

JJ breathes hard.

His fingers dig into your wrist, not painfully, but firm enough that you know—he’s not letting go.

His chest rises and falls too quickly, his lips part like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

Because he knows he fucked up.

Because he knows he’s losing you.

Because he doesn’t know how to stop it.

– Baby—

– No, – You snap. Lower. Sharper. – You don’t get to stand here and act like I’m the one playing games when you’re the one who’s been fucking with my life like it’s a fucking joke. Let go of me!

JJ flinches, but he still doesn’t let go.

– You don’t get it, – He mutters. His head shakes, his grip tightening. – I can’t— I can’t see you with them, okay? I can’t fucking do it. It makes me— He stops. Breathes. Jaw clenched so tight you think his teeth might break. – You don’t understand what it does to me.

– What it does to you? – You let out a bitter laugh, jerking your arm, but he won’t let go. – What about what you did to me, JJ? Or does that not fucking matter to you?

– It does! – He almost shouts, stepping closer. Too close. – You think I don’t think about it? You think I don’t hate myself for it? I don’t wanna hurt you— You scoff, and he grabs your other hand, – I don't! And I’m sorry I did that, okay?! I just—

He exhales sharply, like he’s about to unravel.

His voice drops. Lower. Darker.

– I can’t lose you, okay?! But you keep trying to run from me, and every time you do, you run straight into them. – He says it like it's a crime. Like you’re somehow betraying him or going behind his back by trying to find comfort in someone who isn't a psychopath who'll try to crash a bike with you on it when you don't do what he wants. – You do. And you don't even ask yourself what it does to me. You don't even care.

Your stomach flips.

It's actually terrifying just how quickly he managed to make him trying to ruin you into something that is somehow your fault.

It's cold.

And it's painful.

And you know that feeling better than you usually do. Because that's exactly what curled around your windpipe when Rafe started unraveling. Exactly what buzzed around your mind before he said those things to you.

Your heart lurches, you feel it knock against your ribcage and fall back, painful, agonizing, and you try to pull away. But JJ holds on.

– Let me go, JJ, – You say, voice low, final. – Let me go.

JJ tightens his grip.

Not painful, not quite—but enough.

Enough that you can’t pull away. Enough that you can feel the tension coiling inside him, shaking, barely contained.

– You’re not listening to me! Just stop running!

Your stomach turns.

You’ve heard this before.

Not in JJ’s voice, not in his frantic, desperate rasp—but in Rafe’s. The same words. The same twisting of reality. That same sharp-edged entitlement. That same certainty that you’re the one in the wrong, that you’re the one who’s not getting it.

The same cold grip.

The same curling dread before the storm.

Your breath hitches.

You try to pull away again, harder this time, sharper— But JJ won’t let go.

– Baby, please—

– Let. Me. Go.

His grip trembles, stutters. He keeps pulling you in, keeps digging his fingers into you. You try to turn away, try to wrangle your wrist from his grip.

But you barely have the time.

– What the fuck is this? – The words slice through the aisle like a blade. Low. Cold. Dangerous.

You don’t have to turn.

You don’t have to see him to know.

Because Barry found you first. – What? One black eye isn’t enough, you want another one?  

JJ stumbles.

Barry yanks him back hard, fast, so suddenly that JJ barely has time to catch his balance.

Your wrist is still caught in JJ’s grip, and for a split second, you’re pulled forward with him—

Until Barry sees it.

Until Barry sees that JJ is still holding onto you.

Barry’s breath goes slow. Even. Controlled.

But his eyes are lethal. – Let go of her before I break your fucking hand.

JJ doesn’t move.

Doesn’t drop your wrist.

Doesn’t listen. – We’re talking here, man.

Barry’s nostrils flare. His jaw tenses. His shoulders square. – No. You were talking. Now you're going!

You barely have time to react—Barry’s hand shoots out, clamping down on JJ’s wrist, so tight he actually lets go.

The moment JJ’s grip slackens, you rip your arm free, stumbling back.

JJ barely registers it.

Now he’s face-to-face with Barry.

And Barry is pushing him back, forcing space between you, pressing into his chest, making sure JJ has no choice but to look at him.

– What the fuck do you think you’re doing? – Barry’s voice is low, even, seething. JJ swallows hard. His jaw ticks. – You were fucking grabbing her. 

Barry steps forward.

JJ steps back, he looks at you. – You’re gonna let him talk to me like that? We were—

Barry laughs, but it's bitter, a rattle, like the sound of a gun loading. – Were what? You were talking, she was trying to get away from you, there’s a name for that isn't there? Assault.

– Oh, you wanna talk to me about crime?! – JJ shoves at his chest, but Barry barely budges. – If I called the cops right now I bet—

– You're calling the cops?! I bet they'd love to hear about you breaking into my house and stealing my money.

– Your drug money? – JJ laughs.

Barry rushes.

You pull him back at the last second, his hand fisted at his side. – Leave this alone.

He looks at you, irritation clear as day on his face. – This psycho is—

– Leaving. – You interrupt. – We’re leaving. Please. Let's go home.

– Home? Where’s that, huh, Y/n? – JJ growls. His eyes as dark as the bruises on his face. – Barry’s place? How long do you think that’s gonna last?!

– I’m neither leeching off of her money or trying to kill her on a bike, so probably longer than whatever it would with you. 

JJ rushes, grabbing at his shirt as Barry laughs. You shove him back at the last second, wedging yourself between them before this turns into something worse.

JJ barely moves.

But it’s enough.

His hands fist into Barry’s shirt, knuckles going white, breath ragged, body coiled like a spring.

Barry just grins.

That same infuriating, smug, taunting grin.

– What’s wrong, Maybank? – He drawls, voice low, lazy, full of venom. – You don't like the truth, is that it?!

JJ jerks forward again.

You push harder. – Stop it! Just fucking stop this already.

His chest heaves.

His fingers twitch.

For a second, you think he might actually swing.

Then, slowly, painfully, his hands unclench.

His breathing is erratic. Unsteady.

His eyes are wild. Dark. Hurt. Like he wants to break something. Like he wants to break himself.

He rasps out your name. His jaw ticks, clenches, loosens again. – You don’t have to do this. You know you don’t. I don't even know why you’re doing this.

You inhale sharply.

– Shut up. Just leave this alone, go away! – Your voice comes out tighter, sharper.

– You don’t belong with him. And you know you don’t. You're just trying to piss me off.

Your stomach twists.

Because there it is.

That final, desperate grasp.

The same twisted logic, the same certainty, the same delusion you saw in Rafe. 

You don’t let him take it further.

You turn.

You leave.

You pull Barry with you before he can turn to swing at JJ, your grip firm, unyielding

Your head spins.

You barely register paying for the groceries.

Barely feel the cold press of plastic bags in your hands.

And then, suddenly—

You’re standing before the bike again.

The store is a distant building, bright white lights bleeding from the wide glass panels, covering the surrounding asphalt in an artificial snowstorm of light. You look away from it, fearing JJ will walk out, try to come back, and Barry’s eyes meet yours.

Dark, warm, worried.

He’s holding your wrist as he pulls the helmet from the top box and puts the bags in. – Sweetheart. – He pulls at you softly, holding out the helmet. – Say something. I’m getting worried.

– Huh?

– You haven’t said a word. Look— I'm telling you that piece of shit isn't gonna get to you again, okay? I'm promising you.

You breathe out, rub your eyes, sit down. 

He leans the helmet on your lap, looking at you closely, the apprehension evident on his face. – This isn't something you can promise me, Bee. – The words are heavy, as heavy as your chest feels. – I'm the one who's playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes. This isn't your responsibility. You already do too much for me.

Barry frowns.

His grip on your wrist tightens, just slightly, just enough. Like he’s trying to pull you back to him.

– Don’t say shit like that.

You let out a breath, staring at the pavement.

– It's the truth.0 I’m the one who keeps letting them back in. I'm a fucking idiot. You told me a thousand times that they were fucked up and I didn't listen to you. Now I'm paying the toll.

Barry goes dead silent.

For a moment, you think he’s gonna laugh. You can't imagine something he'd like better than being able to say “I told you so”.

But he crouches down in front of you.

Right there, in the middle of the parking lot.

Balancing on the balls of his feet, forearms braced against his knees, his head tilted up so you can’t avoid looking at him.

– You did that out of loyalty, I can’t exactly give you a hard time about that. – He hums, twisting the fabric of the blue top between your fingers, as if to comfort himself. – I'll be honest, I don't know why you even bothered to be loyal to that piece of shit, why you kept worrying about him. I don't know. But I'm not gonna sit here and talk your ear off about JJ, or your brother and their bullshit when I know that we're only here right now because you keep forgiving me as well.

– That’s different. You deserved it. They didn't.

– I didn’t deserve it. – He hums, grinning dumbly. – You just love me too much not to.

– Ha-ha.

You don’t know what to say.

Because you don’t know what to do with that.

You don’t know how to take it, how to hold it, how to believe it. Barry sighs, shakes his head, and leans forward.

Slow. 

Easy.

His arms brace against your thighs. His hands anchor against your knees.

– You listen to me, okay sweetheart? – He murmurs, voice warm, grounding. You nod. Barely. – Now that you're gonna be cooking me fancy meals and cleaning up my place ain’t nobody takin’ you from me. – He laughs. – Not JJ, not Rafe, not your dumbass brother, not the cops, the FBI, the fuckin’ interpol, whatever. Nobody. – His head tilts, gold tooth catching the light as he smirks, just barely. – It’s just too easy a life to give up. And if I gotta break a few noses to make that clear, well— He shrugs. – Then that’s just what’s gotta be done.

Your chest shakes with something halfway between a laugh and a sigh.

Barry grins.

– There she is.

You roll your eyes, nudging at his shoulder. He doesn’t budge. – You’re a drama queen.

– Yeah, and? You love me anyway.

He winks, obnoxious, teasing, and you push the helmet back into his hands.

Barry pats your leg, a light tap just above your knee, before pushing himself up to stand.

– Alright, c’mon, – He mutters, slipping the helmet over his head. – Get on upright. 

You huff a laugh, shaking your head, but you listen. You slide onto the bike, shifting slightly until you’re settled, until your body remembers how to sit, how to balance, how to breathe.

Barry climbs on in front of you, his hands moving with practiced ease, turning the key, revving the engine, fixing the side view mirrors—

It dawns on you then.

You're not going home. Home to Barry’s place, where you can cook in peace and go to sleep as if the world isn't crumbling around you.

You're going home to Rafe.

Your heart sinks.

The noise hits you first —The low, steady purr of the bike beneath you, vibrating through your body, the way it lunges, the way the speed slams on you, as if the world around you didn't want you to go.

Your fingers grip at his shirt.

Not playful. Not teasing.

Tight. Frozen.

Barry notices immediately.

He tilts his head slightly, just enough for his voice to reach you—low, quiet, warm over his shoulder.

– He ain’t gonna do nothing, sweetheart. Don't worry.

Your breath catches.

For a second—just a second—you wonder if he’s reading your mind. If he can feel the exact moment you realize where you’re going. As if he can see it in your body, in the way your fingers tremble slightly against his ribs, in the way your breath stutters in your chest.

Because you’re not just thinking about the bike.

You’re thinking about Rafe.

About going back.

About walking into that house and seeing him again.

Your pulse pounds.

Your hands curl tighter around the fabric of Barry's clothes, desperate for something to ground you.

Something moves slightly from the corner of your eye. You barely register it at first. The world blurs slightly as the bike rolls forward, the hum of the engine taking over your senses.

JJ. 

Standing by the doors of the store, watching you.

Watching you leave.

His eyes gleam strangely. With something dark. Something heavy. 

That’s who Barry was talking about. 

He doesn’t give JJ the time to fuck around.

The bike moves, quickly, unlike Barry promised.

But the speed of it is nothing compared to the speed at which your mind races —You close your eyes, trying to focus on the feel of Barry’s shirt beneath your fingers, on the wind the hushes around your ears as the bike moves, on the buzz of moving cars, moving people, on the distant echoes of the ocean crashing on the shore. 

But it’s to no avail.

The feeling of  Barry’s shirt wraps around your hand until it turns into the same grip Rafe had on you, the same grip that JJ had. The wind turns into a whisper, the whisper of Rafe’s delusions in your ear, of JJ’s practiced bullshit. The moving cars, the people, the ocean mix into the cacophony of noises that surge and sink back into your mind.

Your balance wavers.

Your eyes peek open.

The rushing ground beneath calls to you.

You hold on tighter.

Tighter.

Barry’s hands meet your arms every time he hits a red light. 

He whispers something or another every so often, and you either hum or laugh according to his tone. But you don’t hear it, his words. They whizz, fracturing with the wind, lost within the barrier, visor of his helmet, the road that keeps rushing forward to meet you.

You don’t register it when the bike stops at last.

But you open your eyes to see the trailer there, and you almost think you’re having a nightmare.

You don’t move.

Not at first.

The engine cuts off, the deep, steady rumble disappearing beneath the weight in your chest.

Barry shifts slightly in front of you.

His hands leave the handlebars, reach for your arms, still wrapped around him, brush over your wrists, light and grounding. – Sweetheart? – His voice is softer now. Barely above a murmur. Checking in. Feeling you out.

Your fingers are still curled into his shirt.

Too tight. Too frozen.

You force yourself to breathe.

The air is thicker now.

Heavy. Close. Suffocating.

The sound of the ocean isn’t distant anymore.

It’s right there, crashing against the shore, against your ribs, pulling you under.

– I know you like holding me, but we have to go. C’mon. I'm starving.

Barry pats your knee, light, careful, like he knows not to spook you.

You nod.

Loosen your grip.

Uncurl your fingers. Force yourself to let go.

And then, slowly, stiffly, you slide off the bike.

Your knees feel weak.

Your stomach turns.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder if you might collapse right there in the sand.

Barry is already off the bike, already stepping in front of you, already pressing a hand to your waist, steadying you before you can fall.

– Sweetheart—

– I’m fine.

You aren’t.

Barry narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t stop you, he just watches you. His fingers stay put. Firm. Warm. Like he’s not quite convinced you won’t slip away.

You’re not either.

You drag your feet as he pulls you towards the door, and it seems to loom closer, larger, taller with every step. You hand him the keys, and he takes them slowly, eyeing you carefully before he takes the shopping bags from your hands.

The door creaks open, a screech that needles through the silence, sharp as any blade. 

You step inside before him.

And Barry follows.

The air inside the trailer is warm, stale, suffocating. You smell the acrid scent of sweat, the tang of restlessness suffocated within the closed windows. But Barry doesn’t seem to notice. He shakes his head, scoffing, tossing the keys onto the corner table with a clatter. 

Your eyes catch on Rafe, sock-covered feet thrown over the arm of the couch, shifting, moving. But he doesn’t stand up.

– Long day, huh, Country Club? – His voice is sharp-edged, mocking. – Bet you had a real rough time sittin’ on your ass. – Rafe doesn’t answer. Barry rolls his eyes. – Fuckin’ useless, – He mutters under his breath, already moving toward the kitchen, already unbagging groceries like Rafe isn’t even there.

You don’t move.

Something isn’t right.

Your gaze flickers toward the couch.

Rafe is still laying there. Still. Too still.

His eyes are open, half-lidded, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t turn his head. Doesn’t react.

Your stomach tightens.

Barry keeps grumbling, rummaging through the bags. – Broccoli, sweetheart? – A scoff. – Jesus. Even you can’t make this taste decent.

You barely hear him.

At first you couldn’t bear the idea of being in the same house as Rafe, now you can barely tear your eyes off him. Off the restless, random movements he makes, almost like spasms. His good hand clenching and unclenching, hanging off the couch.

– Rafe?

Your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

But he still doesn’t respond, not with words, anyway.

You hear a groan, the shift of fabric, the creak of the couch.

But whatever it is that Rafe mumbles is lost in the noises Barry makes from the kitchen, on the howling on the wind outside, banging against the windows.

Your pulse quickens.

You take a step closer, but your feet shift backwards almost on instinct. The fear pulling you back. So instead you call out to him. – Rafe? Are you awake?

Nothing.

You step closer, the dread seeping through your bones as you trudge forward.

The floor creaks beneath your weight, but Rafe doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react.

He’s draped in the same blanket you gave him, the fabric bunched around his shoulders, half-hazardly thrown over him, clinging to the damp sheen of sweat slicking his skin.

His chest rises and falls. Shallow. Too shallow. His lips part, then close. Mumbling.

But no sound comes out.

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

Barry’s still behind you, still unloading groceries, huffing and murmuring under his breath— But you don’t hear him anymore. Your pulse is too loud, too sharp, too deafening in your ears.

Your eyes fall to Rafe’s hand, his broken hand. Under the cast that braces his broken bones, his fingers are arduously clenched around a bottle. An orange bottle.

Your heart stops.

You rush forward.

Dropping to your knees beside the couch, grab his wrist, shake him— Rafe! – You shake him again, frantic now. Nothing. – Rafe!

You pry the bottle from his fingers. Feel the few remaining pills rattle against plastic. Almost empty.

Rafe is barely there.

He murmurs.

A low, slurred noise, barely audible, almost swallowed by the thick, suffocating silence.

He giggles.

A breathy, distant thing.

Like he’s not even here.

Like he doesn’t even know where he is.

– Fuck. – Your hands grip his shoulders, shaking him harder. – Rafe, wake up!

His body sways.

His head lolls back slightly, like it’s too heavy for his neck.

– Sweetheart, what’s going on?

You curse under your breath, shifting, moving fast, sliding an arm under his back to pull him up—

Rafe gives you the slightest movement. His hand drifts up your side.

Slow.

Fingertips dragging over fabric, over skin, barely there but still lingering.

You freeze.

His breath catches.

His eyes—unfocused, glassy, blown out—stare right through you. – Baby… – He hums, low, gravely, as if his throat is thick. – You’re back… – He giggles, dazed. – I knew you’d come back to me. I knew you weren’t gonna leave me here alone.

– What were you thinking, Rafe?! How many of these fucking pills did you take?! – Your voice barely makes it past your throat.

He laughs.

Just laughs.

Soft. Detached.

Your heart stutters.

– A—All of them.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @myluvingera @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss @redkarmakai @hwaaholic @sydkneez @sassyvilliantrope @vampiriito @sassybearfire @matildalittlefreak @sunsetkiss333

[jinnie-ret]

hellevator

stray kids x ninth member male!reader

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: implied anxiety, implied disassociating

word count: 2.1k

summary: he's going through voice changes in their debut era and fans are already sending in hate

Requested: anon!

This is my first male!reader fic so please be kind, I hope you enjoy! <3

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He was so excited to finally be a part of something, not that he had been training for long. But when Bang Chan told him he saw potential in him, despite their 6 year age gap, and recognised how well he got on with the other members, he was quickly added onto the line up for Stray Kids.

During the survival show, Y/N was babied, of course he was, the maknae in the upcoming JYP boy group. Fans of the show fauned over his fluffy black hair and the oversized hoodies he'd wear, making him look smaller. It was similar to how Jeongin was babied too, the two of them being the youngest and seen to have that sweet, innocent air around them. Plus, for Y/N's case, his voice hadn't broken yet at the age of 14, so that fed more into how he was perceived by fans.

However, it was not long after the group had finally debuted that a more mature, deeper voice had overcome him. Of course, not without the struggles of getting used to it. Originally singing the chorus of District 9 wasn't difficult, in fact it was easy. His gorgeous, husky tone was unique yet when he hit those high notes his voice was instantly recognisable. Now, he had to deal with voice cracks, and the rapidly depleting self-esteem that came along with it. This is what he trained to do after all.

"You're getting stressed out. We need to practice getting your voice in a position where it can hit those high notes again. It's not going to help if you're standing there thinking you can't do it," the vocal teacher sighed, putting down her sheets of the lyrics Y/N had been singing.

She was firm, yes, but she was being kind about the situation too. She has coached many that had gone through the same thing as Y/N, and all she wanted to do was to see him succeed, but he couldn't see things through her eyes, that was far too big of a mountain to climb for him. A treacherous journey to realising not everything is one dimensional.

Y/N could only focus on those last four words. 'You can't do it'. And he hated the way that everything suddenly felt hot, and how his throat itched. How his neck itched. He started subconsciously scratching lightly at his neck, feeling the stress flood through his body. He scratched away at the thing he wanted to change most, knowing he couldn't turn back time and have things stay the way they were.

All the comments he had read, all the whispers he had heard, circulating in his brain, like an endless loop of vicious words to bring him down. He would be the reason Stray Kids would fail, they had said. He wasn't good enough, they had said. It all came from jealous trainees that were bitter they didn't get to debut instead of him. The only failure apparent in this situation was Y/N realising that.

"I need some air," Y/N barely managed to speak as he rushed out of the small practice room, tugging at the strings of his hoodie and making his way outside.

Fresh air.

Just breathe, Y/N.

And he managed to do so, not without his mind taking him to another place as he stared up at the JYP sign on the building. Was he meant to be here? Did he deserve to be here when his talents were no longer there? Y/N just couldn't see it the same way anymore, he couldn't see himself the same way anymore when the thing he had been praised for so deeply had changed. Even the people who had supported him before had changed their opinions, because his growth had shattered the image they had of him.

Y/N was unaware of the familiar presence beside him, one that had playfully called out his name before realising something was wrong. He was gently guided back into the building, and swiftly surrounded by the warmth of the 3RACHA studio.

"Hyungs! I found Y/N but he's not talking to me," Jisung's voice quivered as he himself was now feeling worried about his dongsaeng.

Changbin took Jisung aside, hushing him and reassuring him that he did the right thing, whilst Chan took it upon himself to understand what was happening to his youngest brother.

"Hey, hey, you're ok, come on, look at me," Chan spoke quietly, yet he managed to break through Y/N's mind as the younger looked around the studio.

"I shouldn't even be here," Y/N shook his head, voice monotonous. Just being there upset him further, yet he still fought against everything within him to show that side.

"What do you mean? This is our studio of course you're allowed in here, I mean, I know Channie likes his own space sometimes but this is different," Changbin moved to stand in front of Y/N too, having successfully calming Han, "hey, no no no don't float away again, I need you to listen," Changbin forced Y/N to sit down in the sofa. Han automatically wrapped his arms around the younger, wanting to do his best to show he was there for his fellow member.

"What's going on Y/N? Your vocal teacher said you just ran out of the building. She was waiting another 45 minutes until Seungmin turned up for his lesson because she couldn't find you," Chan sighed as he sat down in his chair, opposite the distressed boy.

"I bet Seungmin was much better than me," Y/N mumbled, but even with that, throat thick in emotion, his voice cracked yet again. Flustered that it had happened yet again, Y/N's fist came down against his own leg, huffing in frustration.

"Yah yah, don't do that!" Han frowned, pulling Y/N's arms away from him.

"I'm just so frustrated!" Y/N spoke through gritted teeth, looking up at the ceiling to keep his tears at bay.

"About what?" Changbin prompted Y/N further but he just stayed quiet.

"You need to tell us ok, we're your hyungs, we want to know what's going on, we need to know," Chan moved closer, resting his hand on Y/N's knee.

"My stupid voice," Y/N whispered, embarrassed to admit it.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"What about it?"

"Ever since it's broken, you know, gotten deeper, I just sound stupid when I try singing, it's embarrassing, I mean, it makes sense when they say I shouldn't even be in the group anymore, I-" Y/N opened the gates to his mind as his mini ramble began and was quickly cut off.

"Who said that..." Changbin frowned deeply.

"Stays, other trainees," Y/N threw his hands up in the air, just done with the whole situation.

"Trainees are saying it too?!" Han gasped, looking at Chan and Changbin worriedly, a hint of malice in his eyes as he thought about all of those around them that still acted like their friends.

"Y/N they're just jealous, you can't listen to what they say," Chan began, sighing once more as he ran his fingers through his hair, somewhat at a loss of how to reassure Y/N anymore.

"Easier said than done. Why did you even have me join this group when, when... when I was just going to make us fail!" Y/N exploded, pushing himself up from the sofa and out of Han's arms, away from Changbin's concerned glances and especially away from Chan's words which went in one ear and out the other straight away.

It wasn't long until he found what he thought was an empty practice room, not noticing the bags of his other hyungs that were for once tucked away neatly in the corner of the room. He found solace in the emptiness and allowed himself to collapse to his knees, breaking down into tears of frustration, sadness and all the other emotions he kept pent up.

The rest of Stray Kids returned from a small snack break at the vending machine, all going together of course, you wouldn't find one Stray Kid without another, even this early on in their time of being together.

"Hey hey hey, aegi, what's going on? Omo..." Lee Know gasped as he saw the baby of the group shaking and sobbing. He ran up to Y/N and wrapped his arms around him, the other members astonished until 3RACHA ran in and finally found Y/N after hearing the commotion.

They began to explain what happened to Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin whilst Felix sat down in front of Y/N to help calm him down, brushing his hair out of his face and rubbing his leg soothingly. He tried his best to listen to Y/N at first but due to his growing knowledge of Korean not being up to par with Y/N's incoherent sobs, it was easier to stick to physical affection. You could say Y/N was in a Lee sandwich, the best place he could be right now.

"Can't... Shouldn't..." Y/N sobs soon calmed down and the rest of his members gathered around him in a semicircle, Minho still hugging him from behind. Yes, he could come across as cold and brash sometimes, but no one could tell you just how soft Minho really was apart from his members. They knew him the best.

"Y/Nnie... please you have to listen to us, you're in this group for a reason," Hyunjin patted his knee from beside him.

"T-they didn't say anything about Jeongin's voice when his broke!" Y/N exclaimed, pain clearly still there, tired of all the judgement he had been receiving. He wasn't able to listen to his hyungs right now.

And the boys go quiet not knowing what to say back to Y/N, they were sure he didn't mean to offend Jeongin but it didn't stop Seungmin from patting his shoulder in support.

"Not, not, oh gosh not that I wanted Jeonginnie hyung to get hate I'd never want that for my hyungs I just..." Y/N put his face into his hands, feeling bad as if he has indirectly insulted his hyung, just because he was feeling hurt. From behind him, Minho hugged him tighter, whispering in his ear to try and gain his attention.

"It's ok, I know you didn't mean it like that," Jeongin smiles from across him, and Y/N could tell it was a genuine one.

"Look, our vocal teacher said something to me earlier about what was going on, she was worried about you, she thought she said something wrong," Seungmin trailed off, trying to get to the bottom of the matter.

"No she was actually really nice about it, it was just too much of a reality check and then my mind just took control and... Ugh I don't even know," Y/N came to a realisation that his vocal teacher wasn't being rude to him and it was all these overwhelming feelings that had built up and caught him out.

"Just take a moment, yeah, and think, would I have added you to this group if I didn't think you had the talent, had the potential," Chan rose an eyebrow, firmly talking to Y/N to make sure he understood what he was saying.

"Or his personality, personality is important too," Felix piped up, not wanting Y/N to feel like his worth was only reduced down to one thing.

"Of course it is, but that isn't what this is about right now, answer me, Y/N," Chan nodded to Felix before looking back at his upset member.

"N-no..." Y/N stuttered, realising the depth of what his leader was saying.

"Good. We can see how good you are. The only reason fans are getting annoyed is because it's a change they haven't adjusted to yet. Just like you're adjusting to this change too. Now, they shouldn't be sending in hate, so please, I will do everything it takes for you to not listen to it anymore, ok?" Chan promised Y/N, sitting in front of him and making sure he got that one answer he needed.

"O-ok, I-i understand now, thanks hyung, I-i love you all," Y/N felt the stress leave him, finally able to understand things from a different perspective.

"Aww he said he loves us!" Minho suddenly picks up Y/N and spins him around, causing the younger boy to squeal.

"I wish I had a camera!" Seungmin laughed along.

"I need to remember this forever," Jeongin and Han fooled around, widening their eyes and pretending to screenshot this happy cute moment into their brains.

It was definitely a moment that Y/N would be teased about in the future, being exposed for his true feelings for his hyungs when normally he'd be quiet about what he thought about in the normal way. It was just a good thing they got in his head this time, because now they had a happy memory to think about instead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria

[strongheartneteyam]

𖧷 Headcanons

Neteyam bringing you breakfast in bed ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

(human AU)

Pairing: human!neteyam x female!reader

cw: wholesome fluff, neteyam treating reader so damn right, use of "baby" and "princess", kissing, oral sex (female receiving), brief dirty talk

This was an idea from this cute anon 💕 I hope you enjoy, angel 💌

Not proofread. Sorry but without my glasses I can't do much reading :’(

♡ Neteyam is the kind of boyfriend who is always busy with the many activities he likes to do as he's a very active person (such as his studies, exercising, work, archery classes) + how he's incredibly often taking care of Tuk or just looking over Lo'ak and making sure he doesn't get into too much trouble at school (and also tutoring him because our boy Lo doesn't have big brains, you know?)

♡ Despite his busy schedule, he always makes an effort and ends up finding enough time to be with you and to pamper you with cute dates, gifts such as stuffies and your favorite foods and to have you sleep over at his home (he's got his own apartment now as he's in his early, almost mid twenties)

♡ Last night you two went out to eat pasta in one of your favorite restaurants, one that serves many kinds of pasta, from more traditional ones to ones with seafood on them. You two ate so much, your tummies got big and you both slept like babies once you got to his small but cozy apartment.

♡ You wake up with a tender kiss on your forehead and when you open your eyes, you see Neteyam standing in all his 6’1 glory, smiling and holding a huge tray in his big hands, full of delicious food. You can smell fresh made black coffee - he knows it is your favorite. “Morning, sleepyhead. I'd ask if you're hungry but you always are so…” He steals a joyful laughter from you with this sentence

♡ When you sit down and Neteyam sits next to you, your eyes see how many different foods he brought you. Besides coffee, there's froot loops with milk on a pink bowl (he keeps dishes and spoons etc just for you at his home <3), a croissant, another pink bowl with strawberries, kiwi and banana cut in pieces. There's also slices of cheese and some fried bacon. You smile widely “Baby, you didn't have to spoil me like this!” Neteyam answers “Of course I have to. You're my little princess and I love you.” He gives you a sweet kiss on the lips “I love you more. You're the best boyfriend I could ever ask for.” 

♡ Neteyam happily watches you eat and you two talk about trivial stuff and act like a cute couple in love. When you're finished eating all that food, you hear him say: “Now open these legs ‘cause it's my time to eat” You almost choke on the coffee you're drinking. Neteyam takes the tray away and puts it on the nightstand.

♡ You see Neteyam sneaking between your legs, kissing your inner thighs and looking up at you with pervy eyes. His kisses are so good and he looks so fucking sexy that you just can't say “no”.

♡ Neteyam starts taking your panties off while kissing your belly slowly (you slept in only panties and an old cotton t-shirt of his) and when your pussy is exposed to him, he helps you lay down on your back and opens your legs for him. Neteyam laps at your already wet folds with his warm tongue, tasting you. “God, how do you taste so good, baby? I'm addicted to eating you out.” He starts sucking your clit, making you moan in pleasure. You close your eyes and just enjoy the incredibly skilled oral Neteyam is giving you until you're crying in ecstasy and your legs are shaking.

𓂃  

Taglist:

@criticallybella

@yeosxxx

[blackberreh-art]

do you have any jonelias fic recs? I know you draw them sometimes!! :3

BOY DO I EVER ITS THE OTP BROTHER only a few tho cause i need to be working rn

//casually plasters the fics by @nopaintjustpain. Ones a 'jonelias accidently get pregnant and have a baby' and the others a canon rewrite polyarchives omegaverse fic but there's gonna be jonelias. Both are so good and she is one of my fave writers and im very glad she followed me into TMA hell from the MHA fandom lmao

Villain and violent (infant and innocent)

God I'm only human and I'm helpless

next I have two others that rewired my brain chemistry in the best fucking way ever

A Different Kind Of Nonsense by karuvapatta

I felt So Many Emotions while reading this the instant after i had to draw something for it to get it Out Of Me and GOD;;;; it made me feel So Many Emotions

and lilies by kototyph

The way Elias is just. So. Hunted in this. It was a dynamic that opened my eyes. God.

And the other off the top of my head that I can remember is this AMAZINGLY fucky-wucky time-loop fic full of So Much Questionable Stuff and also its jonelias/jmart so uh, don't go into it without Knowing that you're gonna be reading Jon and Elias just being so messy. Its also just. So funny at times LMAO;;;

If At First You Don’t Succeed, Redefine Success by elarielf

[halowishes]

january favs!

(first recs of the year!!!!)

ships: sakuatsu (if unspecified) ft. an oikage fic

six steps to a smile

e. 18.6k. 5+1 canon compliant.

5+1 of kiyoomi’s adorable pout leading to relationship milestones. i (unfortunately) can’t remember the last time i read a fic without even a little bit of angst. i feel like i never see friends to lovers skts! i do love tension but my heart swells at moments like “i’ll give you anything you want and you don’t even have to ask”. the sweetest boys ever.

the sakusa kiyoomi drunkness scale

m. 4.3k. canon established relationship.

atsumu meets six-drink kiyoomi. chaos ensues. such a lighthearted and short read about their relationship. i loved the little details of the characters and just how well they know each other. they’re so in love and it makes me sick (i treasure these guys).

shootin’ stars & satellites

e. 20.1k. third years skts.

itachiyama and inarizaki have a volleyball camp before their graduation!! this fic was a religious experience. i can’t describe how it made me feel. hilarious, beautifully written, sexy, gentle, and oh so tender. i honestly LOVE everything about this fic. expect this on my end of the year favs.

hold on, who’s got a boyfriend now? (yea right)

t. 9.3k. haikyu hospital.

resident cardiologist atsumu has a boyfriend! the rest of the hospital tries to find out who it is by creating a betting pool!!! this was extremely silly and light. i LIVE for gossip and i imagine hospital gossip is like the michelin star of work gossip. so (if i was there) you bet your ass i’d be betting!

daybreak

t. 8.1k. mid skip.

after a break up, kiyoomi decides to hike up mount fuji with surprise guest miya atsumu! i admire the idea of the u19 camp having a group chat and reunions together :’). also kiyoomi’s family running a tea business… it is so perfect for the rich kid hc. such a sweet and refreshing fic with some introspection!!

bane of my existence, object of my desires

e. 6.6k. regency era au.

messy skts who just can’t live without each other… you know i had to have it. in true skts fashion, this story was dramatic and chaotic and horny. but i mainly read this bc i loooove bridgerton so imagining them in their fancy suits and mansions scratched an itch in my brain.

high tides and sleepless nights

e. 71.8k. msby 4 go to the beach!

atsumu teaches kiyoomi how to swim so he can enjoy the beach <3 as someone who can’t swim, i find this plot so romantic. im gagged it took kiyoomi that long to realize the feelings between them were Real. but that just meant the ANGST was divine. (along with the characterization, dialogue, and happy ending). summer skts for the win!

go slowly with me

g. 5.6k. canon compliant slice of life.

ah yes, the joys and horrors of sharing your music taste with others. when the jackals bring a speaker to their post-practice cool downs, atsumu decided to curate an effortless playlist. along the way he learns kiyoomi listens to abba and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. tooth rotting fluff. dancing in the kitchen. they are domestic.

this is how you lose the time war

m. 15k. end of the world/ sci-fi au.

when kiyoomi wakes up on the last day before time loops itself, he somehow makes his way to his ex lover’s doorstep. god. i’m not ready to really think this one over (i lowkey read it in a haze), but it’s a wonder. this skts dynamic was intense, grand, and overpowering. snuzz is truly a wizard with her words.

such a constellation was he to me

e. 11.8k. canon universe.

two words: kiyoomi tattoos. two more words: body worship. truly, what more do you need? i love reading body worship because it just reminds me how special sex can be. it’s vulnerable and open and appreciating and so human. it’s nice to read a fic that highlights that. the tattoos & lore were just a bonus :P

ishigaki island, 2025 — oikage

e. 22.4k. forced proximity exes to lovers.

iwaizumi & ushijima wedding = oikage best men. only problem is they haven’t spoken in years since they broke up. and now they’re 4th wheeling on an island getaway with their best friends. i really loved this oikawa and characterizations, some classic tropes, and (more) sun!!!

[shigikaji]

͝ ꒡ ͝ 𖣣 ͝ ꒡ ͝

reader ( accidentally or not ) speaking in their mothers tounge to their significant other ( who ៸ that i'm praying for ៸ doesn't know a single tear drop of their sweethearts' language ) 𓈒

— sfw , perhaps ooc , gender neutral reader : i write whatever i think suits the character for said scenario . ( sorry ) new to blogging + writing ,,, spare some mercy on my soul and butt

— characters : isagi kaiser ness ( sorry pt . 2 )

— writing with italics & bold = you're speaking your native language .

— if ur native language is act german : uhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm pretend ure speaking in a language u wanna speak in when u read thru this <3

— isagi .

you're woken by the sounds of the water running in the shared kitchen you and isagi own in your cozy household, just for the two of you, you crank your head and see that it's 7:41 am in the morning on the blindingly bright red clock next to your nightstand .

you groan as you sit up and decide its time to embrace the day instead of sleeping in bed all day, which, you wish was an option (it's not)

you sleepily walk over to the kitchen near your living room to find your dearly beloved, isagi, making breakfast for the both of you, seeing the sight of him cooking and washing two glass cups for the both of you makes your heart crumble apart and rebuild itself back up with stronger love for him .

as you reach your grubby hands out to him, wrapping them around the raven-haired boy as you place your head in the slot of his neck, drawing a surprised noise at the touch and a gentle smile painting his soft face when he realized it was just you .

"ah, good morning y/n," "mmh, good morning dear ." "you know, I've been wondering, would you perfer waffle or— what ."

the room shuts out all noise from the outside as it builds up with silence with you two, you lift your head up with a confused look .

"what ?" you ask to the blue eyed boy, as he replies with "what, what . what did you say just now ?" ". . good morning dear ?"

a few seconds run through the clock ticking that you can hear in your living room before your brain processes what you said, you chuckle as you stuff your face in the football players neck again, you've just realized you've never spoken in your mothers tounge to your own boyfriend before .

the raven-haired boy laughs at the tickling sensation in his neck as he manages to let out a reply that comes along with shaken laughter "what— what's funny ?" "nothing— it's just that I forgot I never spoke to you in my language before, 'm love ." you speak out as you draw out a smile on your face "then tell me what you've said, I'm quite curious ."

you let out a hum as you settle within your thoughts, you reply back with a simple "no, I want you to guess ."

-

safe to say the whole breakfast montage of your beloved making it was just going with you repeatedly saying "no" and isagi looping around with his guesses as he looks like his brain will impale itself if he doesn't get it right this instant .

until you both reach the couch as you settle next to one another with your food in your hands, slicking you both together as if you'd die being separated, "if it's not my other answer then it has to be—" "baby, I only said 'good morning dear' ."

you confess as you stuff your mouth with the delicious morning breakfast your beloved made (with immense struggles cz he's confused as shit on what to do and countless reckless mistakes with the food butttt also love in it) .

" ah ."

-

pt. 2 of safe to say the following week you're seeing isagi on the couch on duolingo on your iPad, going through his daily course of his lessons to learn your language

alsooo pt. 3 of safe to say you couldn't believe your heart could grow even more love and endearment at the sight full of effort and determination from and for the one you call your (soontobehusband) boyfriend .

sometimes you wonder how you even pulled him, but sometimes he also wonders how he even pulled you (he wonders about that more than you do for him at a concerning amount)

— kaiser .

it was a thursday night and you just came back home earlier from a busy day, draining all of the remaining energy you've saved up in the morning to start your day .

you quickly fell asleep the moment a single strand of your hair felt in contact with your pillow, not even bothered to change your clothes to more comfortable ones .

a few hours go by and you stir awake by a voice calling something out, you were too tired to even hear the voice your boyfriend, kaiser, who had been calling out your name for the past few minutes around the entire house looking for you everywhere, and I mean everywhere .

unfortunately for you, you were too tired to even function properly with your head, like it suddenly didn't want to work anymore for a bit and dozed off, too tired to even think and only came up with a reply that goes along with the lines of "ugh, mihya . . five more minutes, let me sleep ."

you could've hear a pin be dropped due to the silence in the room, but you groan as you get shaken by the shoulder by a large hand on it, you open your eyes to see it was kaiser .

"yes yes . . hello to y—" "repeat what you said ."

well, that was a shocker to hear because you opened your eyes fully now to hear him out on what he just told you

"huh— what, what did i say ? did i say something wrong ? . ."

your curiosity and worries come out as you wonder if you told him off with something bad while you were still waking up .

but it soon washes away when you hear the blond guy go all awkward and try to repeat what you said, stumbling over the pronouncing and the words, then it clicked that you spoke in your mothers tounge subconsciously to him and you bark out a tired laugh .

he did not find it funny, as he was confused on what you said to him .

-

then a few minutes later you find yourself still in bed with the bi colored mane guy's head on your chest, wrapping his smeared arms with blue and black colored tattoos around you as he asked— no, made you speak in your native language to sleep since his only reasoning was just:

"your voice sounded pretty when you said that mien lieben . I wish to hear more, won't you do that for me ?"

then after a few more minutes of you speaking in a soft toned voice, ranting of your day with a mellowed tone, you look down to see your beloved sleep, drool running down his mouth and in a vulnerable state, it almost made you wanna coo, but you decided against that for today and decided to fall asleep along with him as well, since you were still tired .

-

not fun to say that he made you lullaby him to sleep in your native language every night of each passing day you two spend together since all his reasons were "i like hearing your voice," "it's easier to sleep when mien schatz speaks in such beautiful language to me every night," and a bunch of german coming out of his mouth, as if he's expecting for you to suddenly know his mother's tounge as well .

but you don't mind doing that for him, right ?

— A/N : to everybody who doesn't speak German ( me included ), he called you " my darling " and " my love " as pet names, u can continue ur reading now <3

— ness .

it was 4:27 in the evening and you're sitting on your couch with your boyfriend, ness, who's rambling on about magic related things to you as you lean your head on his shoulder, him wrapping an arm around your waist as he keeps on talking

you stare at him with nothing but love and adore in your eyes, and that applies to your smile too, only going "mhm" to signal that you're listening to him, even if you weren't, he wouldn't mind that .

he paused for a second to catch his breath since whenever he talks about his fixated interest to you, he never stops to take a breather once when you allow him to talk about it

an idea popped in your head, something you think is so good that if you were in a cartoon, a light bulb would be painted over your head .

the room filled with your sweethearts hearty laughter and heavy breathing, you took your chance to say what you wanna say as you reach out to his unoccupied hand and interwine your fingers together .

"I love you, ness, you're the best thing I've ever been blessed with in this life and i hope i keep that blessing with me till i die next to you, thank you ."

you said what you wanted to tell him for quite some time but couldn't as he was away for practice alot of the times, but felt too embarrassed to tell him directly in the language you both usually speak to one another in, so you decided to do it in your own .

ness on the other hand, looked like he was asked the most confusing question in the world by you with the smile he only shines towards you that you know is just created with love as he responds will a little " huh ."

-

later he begs for you to tell him what you said, you keep on shaking your head no with a face so red it could match the color itself !

"pleaseee. . pretty please, hübsch bitte bitte mein lieben ?"

a few more pesterings, puppy eyes and whines whenever you deny him broke you and you finally told him what you wanted to say for weeks on end, adding a few more appreciations for him in it while you had the chance to do so .

you closed your eyes and looked away in embarrassment, when you didn't hear ness speak, you look back in surprise to see his entire face being more red than your own, if he was also in a show, steam would be coming out of his head, with hearts surrounding him and covering his eyes with them .

"ness ? ."

you call out to him, as you think you might've (literally) broken him, you almost regret that when he practically jumps onto you like a puppy, instead of licking your face as one, he kisses it and your whole self repeatedly with him spewing out german phrases, some you know, some you dont .

"ich liebe dich so sehr"

"deine liebe ist mehr wert als ein diamant und ich bin damit gesegnet"

"ich werde dich niemals im jenseits gehen lassen"

and a bunch more, but these are the only ones you could make out but not necessarily understand a single thing about it .

-

so basically to summarize your whole evening and night, you were dealing with your boyfriend who was head over heels inlove with you once more about you, and you sheepishly accepting it the whole day,

but you were surprised that he never let you go of encouraging you to talk more in your mothers tounge the very next day and to hear that he talked about it to kaiser everytime they see one another,

he even changed his contact name to "puppy who's inlove" because of the amount of times he's heard your name in their convos has given him a huge fuckin' migraine even after three weeks since that even happend .

he'll never let this go actually .

— A/N : lol authors note once again for other non germans . ness said " pretty pretty please my dear ? " " i love you very much " " your love is more worth than a diamond and I'm blessed with it " " I'll never let you go, even in the afterlife " hehwiqaoapa ^ _ ^

i hope whoever reads this likes it 'cuz holy shit my brain is fried now lmfaoooooooooooooooo,,,,,,, so sorry for only doing 3 characters i have no fucks given for other bllk characters much to know how to write them so . eat up 41 kis and ns fans ig ?

[fan-a-tink]

I was sorting through my gif sets and realised I never actually made one for the first episode, and that just wouldn't do. so here are some small moments as gifs from the case of crystal palace

the brain & the brawn

the boys' reaction to possessed Crystal

Crystal Palace awestruck in a completely platonic way

I'm giving Edwin his own section in this post (yes, I am obsessed with him) starting with the boxing scene

Edwin: "So, you'll be leaving then" vs. when Charles leaves with her

"Charles, noooooo!"

Charles did, in fact, yeeeeees!

"Let's not be cocky, Charles" says the ghost who loves it when Charles is cocky...

and finally, these two have kind of ruined one of the most aesthetically pleasing shots for me, but I can't stop giggling thinking about these on loop

other episode gif sets: 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

[gallawitchxx]

drabble number two for @galladrabbles MINE by @jrooc because i woke up, saw this new art by @bluelightning00 & my brain spit this out <3

- - - - -

Mickey on his knees before you is always a sight to behold. A miracle, truly. A once in a lifetime event that somehow keeps happening.

Even more unlikely is his willingness to play. To sit still, like the best fucking boy, and let you touch and tease and nip and mark and finally look your fill.

You don’t know exactly who the lipstick belongs to, but you don’t care. Not when the deep rouge of it looks so pretty running down Mickey’s throat, and definitely not when you loop a heart over your own name, inked above his heart.

Mine.

[stevie-petey]

ive been feeling a little stug deprived but i cannot for the life of me think of a blurb idea so,, hit me with a blurb you've been wishing to write about stug :3

anon u also stumped me like i KNOW i have blurbs ive been dying to be asked about but suddenly my mind is blank ,,,, pls take this silly thing my brain managed to concoct

enjoy !

"one more loop around the block before i take you home?" steves voice rasps out, husky from lack of use. neither of you have spoke much as he drives the two of you around hawkins. its been at least an hour now; music plays softly throughout the car and the windows are rolled down to let in the early june nights cool breeze.

you lean your head against the passenger seat and listen to freddie mercurys smooth voice as he plays over the speakers. hes become one of your favorite artists thanks to steve. "i dont want to go home just yet."

steve grins, he knew youd say this, and you smile at the knowledge that he knows you so well.

his fingers are wrapped lazily around the steering wheel as he takes a slow turn back towards downtown hawkins. you watch his movements, illuminated by the lamp posts that spill light onto the otherwise dark wooded street. its late, the first monday of june and the last day of your junior year.

it had been steves last day of high school, and all he had wanted to do was spend it with you in his car, driving in circles around your small town.

you close your eyes and allow the moment to seep into your bones. youre in steve harringtons car, there are crickets outside as he drives you around the town the two of you met and grew up in, and youre in the car with the boy that you love and you know that he loves you, too.

"you still with me, angel?"

you hum. "im still here, honey."

"your eyes are closed."

"im enjoying the moment," your eyes remain closed and yet you can feel the smile that steve flashes your way. you can hear it in his voice, you can feel the shift in the air.

the car slows down at one of hawkins only stop lights. steve looks over at you and feels a heavy wave of affection roll over him. youre curled into yourself in the passenger seat, your hair spills over the headrest as you close your eyes, and its rare that he gets to see you so relaxed. "i can take you home if youre tired."

"but i love driving around with you," you mumble, feeling sleep beginning to crawl over you. but steves car is warm and smells like home. "one more loop, please?"

again steve feels affection caress his face when he hears your words. youve only curled further into yourself and your eyes are still closed; steve knows you really are struggling to stay away now. its late, he knows he should get you home soon so you can sleep, yet steve cant bring himself to deny your request.

"one more loop, but then im taking you to bed."

you giggle, happy youve won, but you try to argue some more anyways. no one else has ever been able to match your wit, so you revel in the quips you share with steve. "fine, its the first day of summer. dont be such a grandpa."

steve laughs, his voice is still husky and you can feel it drape over your tired body. "angel, weve got all summer to drive around this stupid town."

weve got all summer.

"promise?"

more crickets chirp and the car begins to drive once more, the stoplight now green. freddie mercury sings about the love of his life and how he doesnt want her to hurt him. your question of a promise joins alongside his pleads, and steve understands.

"i promise." he reaches for your hand and you feel his soft lips press against your palm. hes slow with the kiss, as if hes sealing his promise with it, and your body fizzes at the touch. "now lets get you home."

you bring the hand that hes holding to your face and nuzzle against it, too tired to respond with words. you simply nod your head and keep his hand there as a content sigh escapes you. steve has to bite his lip, scared he'll say the three words that terrify him.

youre everything.

youre his everything.

but steve has all summer to tell you this.

so instead he drives you home, taking the long way just so his hand can rest against the dip of your cheek for an extra few minutes.

“COME HOME” BLURB MASTERLIST

if you’d like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

[hp-hcs]

Am I requesting again because I love your fics? Yes yes I am AND IM NOT SORRY. Theo x ftm Reader (but like reader is Pansy’s brother ^3^) I feel like this HAS POTENTIAL but if you want to completely make ur own storyline be my guest because I trust you more than I trust my brain ٩( ᐛ )و

Pansy’s Brother (Chapter One) — yandere! theodore nott x ftm! parkinson! reader

WARNINGS: aggression, stalking, possessive behavior, overprotective behavior, enzo berkshire bashing (done by theo)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You bite your nails nervously, rocking back and forth on your feet. Your sister must notice, because she gently pulls your hand away from your mouth, smoothing down your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

“They’ll love you, Y/n. Don’t worry.”

“Enz’ll be there?” you ask softly.

A faint blush settles along her cheeks. “Y-yes. Lorenzo will be there,” she says in an oddly formal tone, clearing her throat in a very inconspicuous manner. “Ahem. But that’s not important. Um. Anyways. Stop laughing. Put your tie on, we’re going to be late.”

You snicker once more. “Sure, not important.”

She swats your arm lightly. “Dickhead. Hurry up.”

“Oi, Pans, chill out. I dunno how to tie a bow tie.”

She watches you fumble for a minute before rolling her eyes and smacking your hands away. “Stop, this is painful to watch.”

You pout as she takes over, deftly tying the perfect knot. “How do you know how to tie a bowtie?”

“Because I dated Draco for three months. Stop moving.”

You fake gag. “Ew. How was that as an experience?”

“Awful. It was like dating my honorary older brother.” She dramatically shudders, looping her arm through yours as you two begin your long walk to the Great Hall where the Yule Ball is being held.

“Hey, I thought I was the only brother you were allowed to have!” you gasp, mock-offended. “Besides, it couldn’t have been that bad. He’s… uh, conventionally attractive, I guess..?”

“No way, it was terrible. It’d be like if you started dating Enzo.”

“Ew!”

“Exactly.”

~~~

Honestly, Theodore Nott had no idea what to expect when Pansy said that her little brother would be coming to the Ball and that she’d like to introduce him to everyone.

But he certainly wasn’t expecting the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen, holy Circe?

The Parkinson siblings stepped through the doors of the Great Hall, Pansy dressed to kill in a green satin dress with a risqué slit that went a little too high, in Theo’s opinion. The boys next to him were all but drooling.

“Who’s going to tell Greg and Vince that Pans doesn’t even know they exist?” Mattheo leans in to whisper with a sly grin.

“Not it,” Theo snickered, observing Pansy with respectful, but distant, interest.

She really was stunning—but it was in the same way that sunsets and fireworks are stunning. Beautiful, but purely in an aesthetic way.

Following a half step behind her, a rather timid figure followed. Pansy navigated her way through the crowd, with what was presumably her brother trailing along behind her.

She stopped in front of the boys, waving with a friendly grin. “Hey, guys! This is Y/n. Y/n, these losers are Theodore and Mattheo, and obviously you already know Enzo,” Pansy introduced, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her brother, Y/n, straightened when his sister said his name, an odd gleam in his eye and look of relief on his face that Theodore couldn’t quite figure out. He held out his hand with a rather charming grin, the meek boy from before now exuding confidence as he shook each of their hands.

Theodore shook his hand when Y/n reached him, surprised by how dainty Y/n’s hand felt in his. Y/n made up for it, however, with a firm grip and a charismatic smile that made Theo’s stomach flip.

The Parkinson boy wore a well-tailored three piece suit that accentuated his build. It was the same shade of green as his sister’s dress, but the vest was a nice tawny tartan tweed, with shiny brown shoes to match. His expensive cufflinks sparkled under the candlelight, and his dark gray bow tie brought out his eyes.

Y/n Parkinson looked fucking hot.

Theo’s reverie was interrupted by laughter and Enzo’s voice saying, “You look handsome as hell, Y/n.”

Y/N grinned, a faint blush on his cheeks. Enzo laughed and slung his arm over the younger boy’s shoulders in a friendlier-than-‘we-just-met’ way.

Theo’s gaze broke away from where he was ogling the boy, snapping over to his friend.

How the fuck did Enzo Berkshire already know this hot guy?

A lick of white-hot jealousy flared through him. Enzo wasn’t even that cute! And he was dumb! Theo was way smarter!

He saw the way the youngest Parkinson smiled at Enzo, all teeth, and felt his blood practically boil with rage. One word kept floating about his head, from the second he lay eyes on his friend’s little brother.

Mine.

~~~

“So…Theo was looking at you a lot.”

“He was?” Your head snapped upwards and your eyes lit up as you thought about the pretty brunette with the dead eyes and the overall talk-to-me-and-they’ll-never-find-your-body demeanor from last night.

“Yep. He also kinda like, threatened my life once you left.” Enzo shrugged, splitting off half of his licorice wand and handing it to you. “Dunno why.”

“He didn’t say?”

“Nope. Although I kinda sort of maybe got the impression that he’s got a… oh, what’s the word? big fat humongous crush on you. Not that it’s obvious or anything.”

“Ah. Not a man of subtlety, I take it?”

“He’s been watching us since we sat down,” Enzo says through a his teeth behind a fake smile.

“Wh-”

“Don’t turn around. Bitch, what are you doing- I just said- fuck it. I give up,” he throws his hands up in exasperation and sits back in his chair.

You scan the occupants of The Three Broomsticks, seeing no one acting out of the ordinary. You sigh and turn back to your irked friend.

Enzo rolls his eyes at you. “Dumbass.”

“Dipshit.”

You both grin at each other.

On the other side of the room, tucked underneath the deep hood of a thick winter cloak, Theodore Nott simmered with rage.

~~~

“Thanks for walking me back. I’m pretty sure Pansy would kill me, and then you, if I got lost or something,” you take another sip of your butterbeer as the two of you trek back to the castle, the dusky sky bathing you both in a faint glow and making the biting snowflakes in the air shine like tiny crystals.

“Yeah. Speaking of Pansy…” Enzo trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes, you can date her. No, I won’t go but-she’s-my-sister-and-I’m-her-brother apeshit on you.”

He gapes at you. “You knew?”

“Enz. Love. Sweetie pie. Anyone with eyes could tell that you like her, and she likes you right back. Go ask her out, coward.”

“Fuckhead,” Enzo retorted, giving you a tiny grateful smile.

~~~

Theo watched from afar with barely-contained jealousy. The pair was too far away to clearly hear, and the snow underfoot crunched too loudly for him to move closer, so Theo was stuck.

A sudden gust of wind sent a flurry of snowflakes into his face, and he made a face at the unpleasant chill. With the wind, however, carried a voice.

Your voice.

“Enz. Love. Sweetie pie. A…” your voice trailed off as the wind died down, becoming indistinct again.

Theo snapped.

No. No. No. No, you weren’t allowed to say things like that to other boys. You weren’t even allowed out with other boys. You were his, and Theodore had waited far long enough.

It was time for him to take back what was rightfully his.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Two

[besaya-glantaya]

In an attempt to exorcise these thoughts from my brain (this movie has taken up residence in my soul), here is an incomplete list of the things I notice and love in Red White and Royal Blue.

1. Henry staring in utter disbelief at the frosting-covered whiskey tumbler Alex plops distractedly into his hand whilst pawing ineffectually at the mess all over Henry's shoulder. Comedy gold.

2. Nora pretending she doesn't know either of them and hiding her face as they scuffle in front the cake.

3. How Alex has Henry literally in his pocket while talking turkey.

4. During Henry's "what does it mean" crisis talk over The Kiss, the entire scene is dressed in bi flag colours. Nora is in pink, Alex in blue, with a purple poster in the background.

5. The soft "whoa" of the white house staffer, who walks into Nora's office just in time to hear her ask Alex: "How many guys have you been with?" She hesitates, stunned, and then looks as if she'd like the ground to open up and swallow her now, thank you very much.

6. His Royal Hardness making flustered small talk with the UK Prime Minister and the US President, while the FSOTUS goes in for a cheeky squeeze. You ridiculous, giddy, fools.

7. Ellen's exasperated "my son thinks he's a fucking comedian" look in reply to Alex's "The night is young, Ma" and his shit eating grin, before diplomatically, and very sensibly, removing the British PM from the vicinity of these two horny idiots.

8. Alex's warm and teasing delivery of "Are they known for their homosexual tendencies?" after Henry says he's "as gay as a maypole." Boy is smitten.

9. When Henry invites Alex to the charity polo match, his initial awkward nerves transition to fond derision when Alex's tells him, crestfallen, that he doesn't know how to play polo. Bless.

10. Henry on a horse. Very much in agreement with Alex on this one.

11. The interleaved editing of the polo match and tack room shenanigans. It reminds me strongly of the interlaced 'what if' scene in Steven Sodenburg's Out of Sight, which is executed at a far slower pace but delivers that same feel of two people being inexorably drawn to each other, almost as if events are fated to happen.

12. The lighting in the Paris cafe scene. God damn those are two beautiful men.

13. Henry's gleefuly bashful admission of innuendo in the Paris cafe. He's just given Alex his full Royal name, but its Henry Fox that's in control here and he's revelling in bringing every moment of his inner fantasies to life.

14. The heartbreaking disconnect between their two perspectives in the Paris walk scene.

That's some bullshit

It's my life

Doesn't mean you have to accept it

Alex has spent his life pushing defiantly against societal expectations. Henry has spent his life weighed down by them, isolated in a way that Alex only barely grasps.

15. I wish, with all my heart, that the fairytale political landscape of this movie was real.

16. The entirety of the morning after scene in the hotel room during the DNC is perfection and Zahra is the MVP. Matthew Lopez said he had no idea he was going to get that mini panic attack from Sarah Shahi and kudos to Sarah for that perfomance. Inspired.

17. How quickly and assertively Alex say "No" to Zarah's "would it make any difference if I told you not to see him again?"

18. The way Zarah says "Everytime I see you, it takes another year off my life." This phrase plays on loop in my brain during shitty work meetings.

19. The coming out scene with Alex and his Mom. A joyous balm for those of us who never got to experience that with our own parents.

20. Forehead touches. Ugh.

21. My brother in Christ, sharpen your knives Oscar, what did that pepper do to deserve that?

22. The catatonic state of sadness that Henry exists in after swimming away from Alex. My heart hurts.

23. The pride flags in the crowd outside Buckingham Palace. Again, can we all have this universe, pretty please?

24. The way Henry takes Alex's hand with such ease in public after the election win. If only Paris Henry could see you now.

[Exorcism sequel here]

[itsjustlikeoxygen]

"Hate me, baby, maybe, I'm a piece of art"

27+ Tiffany Blews (pun on Tiffany Blue, absolutely genius) on Fall Out Boy's controversial fourth album Folie a Deux are easily one of the best songs in their discography. Combining everything that makes fob so special in an unforgettable two song run.

27

One of my favorite fob songs period. Genuinely cried when some other city got this song for their Magic 8 Ball suprise song (happy 4 u,, but it should have happend to me :3). This song has one of fob's best lyrics

"If home is where the heart is then we're all just fucked

I can't remember, I can't remember

And I want it so bad I'll shoot the sushine into my veins

I can't remember, the good old days" --- I am going to try to articulate this well but putting the first I cant remember to set up the good old days line is simply genius. I mean, you could interpert it as that or as he can't remember where his heart is, either works honestly and that is genius.

"My mind is a safe, and if I keep it then we all get rich" the way Patrick sings get rich scratches my brain so good. I love the imagery in the chorus, it's not 100% actual imagery of like a phsyical setting it's more metaphorical but it still paints a vivid picture so like let's relax here on the technicalities...

.

.

THE GUITAR SOLO RAHHHHHHHHH

.

Ending the song reiterating "if home is where the heart is" creates a loop that would allow you to play this song for hours on end, but why would you do that when it seamlessly transitions into Tiffany Blews?

Tiffany Blews

Fame sucks!

The concept of not being a crybaby, but being the crybaby. Oh wow, i can feel my long fingernails tapping against my bald head. This song has so experimental compared to what they had previously made. The lyrics are so clever.. they definitely tried to emulate this throughout MANIA with Wilson and in Stardust with Heartbreak feels so good…..But like the lyrics say, this song is a CLASSIC it sounds so timeless and nostalgic at the same time I just love her, she is very gorgeous to me <3

"dear gravity, you've held me down in this starless city"

I misheard this first as darling, then starlit, and finally as starless, lol, love the lil wayne feature!

:) I love how Folie had so many random cameos like Wayne and...... brendon urie...WHATEVR WHATEVA the woke mob cannot take 20 dollar nosebleed away from me