#rafi x mc

[whatisreggieshortfor]

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Rafi x MC

For @justtuesdays

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[narcolini]

five and one

rafa x gn!reader, 7598 words, canon typical drug use, hurt/comfort/angst, no happy ending(!!!)

the five times you were his friend, and the one time you weren’t 

a/n: this has been in my docs waiting to be finished for sososo long omg finally the rafito despair is here. enjoy!

taglist: @ashlingiswriting​ @drabbles-mc​ @cositapreciosa​ @hausofmamadas​ @cherixrosa​ @purplesong1028​ @mandaloria314​ @dashavau​ @yeetintomadness @thesandbeneathmytoes​ (as per i have forgotten who wants tagging and who doesnt sorry!)

1

Rafa’s been asking you for weeks. Come smoke, carnale, come on. I have something to show you.

Soon, you told him. I’m busy with school, work, I have to pick my Abuela up from church—I’m the only one who can drive her, remember?

They weren’t made up excuses, even if he thought they might’ve been. You didn’t like it either, having no time for him, but it’s how it went. How it is. He dropped out of school, never made it to college. You did. It gives you different markers now, different structures to shape the friendship around. When you were classmates it was easy, natural: before class, in class, after class. Simple. There you were, there he was. Now, you have to pencil him in like any other obligation.

He isn’t an obligation. You try not to let him feel like one.

‘Finally,’ is how he greets you, when you see him at last.

He’s come to you this time, to the place in the city that you’re sharing with your cousin, and another student on your course. He doesn’t comment on the mess, the mismatched furniture, the dishes, the piles of books and paints across the dining table. He just walks in, bag over his shoulder, then drops into the couch to unpack.

Something to show you, he’d said. Here it is. You’re sitting in the chair opposite, with a weed cutting in your palms, before he’s even bothered to ask about your day.

‘Looks like marijuana,’ you say, lifting the bud to your nose, ‘smells like marijuana.’

‘No, mira.’ He leans forward and reaches to put his fingers over yours, separating the green in front of your eyes. It splits, looks healthy. ‘No seeds,’ he informs.

Your brow arches. ‘None?’

‘None,’ he repeats, ‘never.’

‘It worked?’

‘It worked.’ He grins, all teeth. His hair bounces over his forehead. ‘I’m a genius, no?’

‘Dios mio,’ you laugh, ‘you actually did it, Rafi.’

The pride drips off him, pours over the coffee table between you and lulls at your knees like the tide. ‘Come on,’ he says, ‘you knew I would.’

You did, you’re smiling with him. It doesn’t stop you from teasing him about it, though. ‘I thought you’d smoke too many of the samples and forget what you were doing, tonto.’ You pass the cutting back to him. ‘Have you dried any of it yet? How’s it taste?’

‘Ah,’ he sighs, leaning back again, ‘that’s what you’re interested in? You don’t want to know how I got it to work?’

You give a half-shake, no. ‘You’ll tell me even if I don’t.’

He’s explained the idea enough times already, but it never sticks, it doesn’t connect in you, the way it does for him. It’s in one ear, out the other. He’s always been for it, science, statistics, experiments and the answers beneath; you’re one for art. Subjectivity.

Your foot finds his sneaker under the table and gives it a kick. ‘Puedo probarlo, o no?’

His free hand goes into his jean pocket, retrieving the tin that’s never far from his person. It’s made of a rusty, scratched copper, held together with a loose elastic band. He hands it to you without comment.

‘Is this from the first plant?’ you ask, watching him.

He shakes his head, brows pulling together briefly. ‘I wanted to perfect it before I showed you. Primo’s greenhouse is full now. Fifteen plants, como esto.’

The cutting you’d been examining goes down, onto the table, and then he brings another up. He’s brought a complete collection, kept them wrapped in newspaper and cradled until now, when he can finally show them off to you.

‘This was from one of the outside plants,’ he says. ‘I think the pinche güeys next door have their own. They must’ve pollenated my shit, look.’

You hum, acknowledging without really listening, and flip open his tin. A single, pre-rolled joint sits inside.

You flick your eyes across to him. ‘This is it?’

He nods.

‘You’ve already some today, haven’t you?’ You’re smirking as you ask, knowing the answer already.

Rafa laughs, pinching the sound short by biting into his lip. Then he shrugs. ‘What? I had to. I still brought you some, didn’t I?’

‘You’re gonna smoke it all before you make any money off it, Rafa.’

He’s going to get sick of it before anyone else can even try.

‘No, no, Miguel Angel knows what to do, how to take us to the next step.’ He says it confidently, hopefully. His eyes gleam at the thought. A purpose, he must think, direction at last. ‘My job,’ he says proudly, ‘is to make sure the product is good.’

You smile, infected by him, by the excitement glowing off of him. ‘You’re aiming high, then?’ You hum, nodding over the cuttings on the table. ‘The two of you?’

The newspaper crinkles as he rewraps, his eyes down like he’s suddenly humble, shy of it. Scared to admit the dream aloud. ‘Si, es solo el comienzo, sabes?’

Yeah, and it’s long overdue for him. The start and the end, because he’ll never have to invent another thing in the world, if this all goes to plan.

You put the joint between your lips and hold out a hand. ‘Pues,’ you prompt, ‘give me a light. Let me see the future.’

2

He sounds like he’s crying. It could be the line, it could be the fact it’s past three in the morning and you’re tired, barely awake, and he’s tired, barely understandable. It could be that he knows you wouldn’t judge him if he was. But it sounds like he’s crying.

No, he is crying, definitely. He sniffs, loud and wet, then draws in another gasping breath afterwards. Says something else about soil, earth, plants and lying scientists, fucking lying scientists. You blink against the dark, push the heel of your free palm into your eye sockets. Wake up, come on, wake up.

‘Have you tried digging elsewhere?’ you ask, hating that it comes out through a yawn, but you can’t help it. You only fell asleep a couple of hours ago yourself. ‘It has to be there somewhere,’ you add.

‘Yes,’ he rasps, ‘it should be there, the guy, pinche pendejo, he said, he, we have the maps���’

‘Rafa,’ you cut him off, ‘breathe.’ It isn’t a suggestion; he ignores it anyway. Rattles on about hard soil and sore hands still.

You sit upright, phone-cord stretching out of its coil, and hope that it’ll rouse you some more. He isn’t there to look at, but you pretend that he is. Imagine him sitting at the end of your bed, head in his hands, tears streaking down his cheeks. If he was, you’d reach a hand out. Run it along the ridge of his spine and watch him decompress. It’s easier to know what to say to him when you have him there, like that. Even just in your head.

You speak over him again, awake enough to put some force into the question this time. ‘Have you told Miguel?’ They’re partners, brothers. This is what he’s there for. ‘Can’t he help?’ you say, because you can’t, you’re miles away.

‘If I fuck this up,’ Rafa whines, ‘they’ll kill us.’

‘Who will?’

The line crackles. You hear a thunk in you ear like he’s struck the handset against the nearest wall. He has, no doubt, but it holds. The call stays connected and buzzing in your palm.

‘Easy, Rafi.’

You wish he was there, at your feet. You wish you could lean forward and shake his shoulders until he listened to you.

‘The plants are dying,’ he says, once he’s back on his end. ‘If we don’t find it soon.’

He cuts himself off with a groan of frustration, then another thick, ugly sniff, snotty and unpleasant even through the phone. You’ve seen him cry like this before. Once when he left school, once when his mum died.

‘And you’ve tried everything?’ you ask, just to keep him talking, just to distract him. ‘No water at all?’

‘We dug deep.’ He takes another heaving breath and then, on the exhale, when he speaks, he sounds more annoyed than upset. It feels like progress. ‘It’s like pinche steel,’ he says, ‘my arms…I can’t get through anymore. The workers are tired.’

You sigh. He’s sounding like he’s given up. He never gives up.

‘I can’t do it.’

‘You can,’ you insist. ‘You’ve just forgotten to use your brain.’

‘Ay,’ he sucks a hiss through his teeth, ‘el desierto, lo ha matado.’

The Rafa on the end of your bed is pacing now, stood up and tracing lines into your floorboards. Moving helps him think, it always has, the motion forces the idea to catch and roar into life, like starting an engine. You close your eyes and picture it. Another method, you decide, another method, another result.

‘Have you tried blowing it up?’ you ask plainly, still watching the false image of him behind your eyelids.

‘What?’ He laughs without meaning it. ‘Estás loco o qué?’

‘How do they make quarries, Rafa? How do they break through rock?’

You can hear it connect, weirdly, in the silence that follows. Hear the gears click, the brain turn. He takes a breath that stills his lungs properly this time, rather than stuffing them with desperate, needed air, then says your name like you’re a genius. Like you’re him.

‘I haven’t tried that, no.’ His voice lifts, he’s on the edge of smiling. ‘It can’t hurt, right? Una pequeña grenada?’

Now, it’s your turn to relax. He’s not crying anymore, he’s thinking, trying. It’s three in the morning and he’s back to himself again. You fall into the pillows with a sigh.

‘Don’t kill yourself, tonto.’

Don’t blow yourself to pieces for the sake of water, for the sake of Miguel and his precious sinsemilla.

He laughs down the line. ‘I’m dead either way, friend. Better I go with a bang.’

3

You’re a stranger now, as much as he tries to fight it. You don’t fit into the world he’s made for himself, or the one Miguel’s made for him, rather. You walk through his home like a guest, not a friend. You merge with the walls the way the staff does. Another set of footsteps in the mansion, another hand trailed up the banister in wonder.

He sends a car for you, because he can, when he has something to show you these days. Or something to ask, if it strikes him as important. Picks you up with just a warning phone call and a rush of, it’s fine, it won’t take all day. What do you need to go to work for, anyway? I’ve told you already.

He could find a job for you, he says. You could sit by his pool and earn money like it grows, right there, in the flowerbeds. You could live like he does, if you wanted.

No, Rafi, I like what’s mine. I like the quiet.

‘You brought me all this way,’ you say, once you’re standing in his bedroom, ‘to pick an outfit?’

You look at him, then back to the bed—four-poster, ridiculous, like something out of a movie. He’s got three suits laid over it, all matching, all expensive: white and red, blue with stripes, purple. Bright purple. You touch the fabric just to feel it. You’d never own anything this smooth, this well made.

‘I trust you,’ he says, ‘your opinion.’ He fidgets, digs a fingernail into the carved detailing of the bed frame. There’s white under his nostrils, you haven’t missed that, but you haven’t commented on it, either. At least he smells of smoke as well. At least he’s balancing it out.

‘What’s it for?’ you ask, like that’ll help you decide.

‘A girl.’

Your head twitches back to face him, quicker than you’d have liked it to—but, a girl? He’s not mentioned dating since he got fixated on weed, not in any serious way. Not to you.

He’s frowning as you look at him, his own gaze on the suits, like he’s tormented by the choice. Like they’re an equation to unwind. He hasn’t even noticed your reaction yet. ‘She didn’t take me seriously,’ he says, ‘last time. She made fun of my clothes.’

You let him continue. Your brain is still trying to scramble to the point where any of this makes sense.

‘Her father is el Secretario de Educacion.’ He sighs. His hands go to his hips. ‘I want to impress her.’

A new project, you realise, that’s what he’s found. Something he can’t have, something impossible. Something to solve. A drug lord with the daughter of a politician, Dios mio, he picks them well. This will be harder than growing plants with no seed, as dangerous as following Miguel into the dark.

You can’t get away with anymore silence, you have to act invested now, helpful still. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Sofia.’

He’s smiling and he expects you to returns it. You look back to the suits.

‘Sofia,’ you mutter, partnering it with a sigh. ‘Lucky Sofia.’

It’s something he would never do for you. Before today, you wouldn’t have imagined him doing it for anyone. He’s always worn what he liked, always put himself to the world exactly as he is, no apology, no polish. Just him, wild as he came. None of these suits feel like the Rafa you know. Or knew. They’re all the man you haven’t quite caught up to yet. The owner of this absurd pinche mansion.

‘Is she worth all this?’ You point at them lazily. ‘How much did this cost you, tonto?’

‘You sound jealous,’ he says, smiling, trying to pass it off as a joke.  

You shrug. ‘You’re putting a lot of pressure onto one suit.’

If this goes wrong for him, you’ll be back in the car to his house, talking him through the downfall, as always, as he wants, as you oblige. If she laughs at him still, you’ll have to think of something to throw down and bring him back up to Earth.

You pick up the sleeve closest and toy with the cuff of it. ‘I’m trying to stop you from embarrassing yourself,’ you tell him.  

‘Not what is seems like.’

Maybe not, but where’s the issue? You’re worried about the aftermath, the risk of more headaches down the line and, yeah, maybe you’re jealous too. Unlikely as you are to admit it aloud. You’re jealous of him, his success. His house, the clothes, the suits. The money that pours off him. The money he pours onto you in turn. Take it, he says, let me. It’s nothing. It’s nothing, have it. I want you to have it. Why can’t we both enjoy it now that we’re here?

Because it’s not yours, it’s his. He doesn’t get that.

And you’re jealous of Sofia, too. You wish you weren’t but you are. It creeps up to you, the longer you stand here, it crawls up your trouser legs, into your ears along with her name. She caught his eyes, his heart. You got the brain and everything else, but she has a part of him that he never shared with you. Never tried to.

It’s not yours, it’s his. It’s hers.

You’ve always been jealous of concretes, of things without leeway. You never took to it the way he did. Can’t keep yourself in one direction, can’t reach a conclusion and relish in it. He finds his track and runs it, right to the end.

‘You really think she’s special?’ you ask, redirecting him and yourself alike. It does nothing to think about it. What you could’ve had, what you never will. All that matters, is what there is, what you can hold.

‘There’s no-one like her,’ he answers, leaning his shoulder against the bed-post, ‘in all of the world.’

That’s how he is. Passionate. He fixates, he works, he wins. Loves with a tunnel vision that you’ll never understand.

‘The white, then,’ you decide. ‘It suits you.’

His eyes light up, his smile broadens. ‘Yeah? You think she’ll recognise it? Scarface?’

‘She won’t care, Rafa. Eres guapo. Te ves rico.’ And that’s what they like, girls like her. That’s what matters. ‘You be good to her, okay? Treat her right. She’s not someone you should mess around.’

He laughs, then puts his head to the wood. He’s looking at you fondly, through the thick of his lashes, and it itches, makes you drop the sleeve and step back from the bed.

‘You talk like you know her,’ he says.

‘I know you, Rafi. That’s enough.’

4

You didn’t know how bad it had gotten, until he tried to pull himself out of it. You should’ve realised really, or predicted it, should have taken more notice at his parties, should’ve seen the way his logic and rationality had sped up and burnt itself out. How his life had become a cyclone of Sofia, Sofia and drugs and Miguel. Round and round. How little it became about himself, or what he wanted. How close he’d stumbled to the edge without you waiting a step behind.

You heard from him less and didn’t challenge it. You didn’t ask, he didn’t tell, so you lived through the whispers of him. Maybe it’s time, you thought, maybe he’s outgrown you at last. Maybe this is the part where you don’t play catch up.

And then he’d stopped all together. Run out of track and hit the wall behind.

You weren’t there when it happened, you don’t know the details, only that he’d broken up with Sofia, and Miguel had broken up with him, in a way. Snipped ties worse than you had, ones with actual weight. Purpose. Structure that couldn’t afford to be pulled from under him. He lost his fields, you found out, lost his life’s work. Watched the dream collapse in front of him, at the hands of his closest friend.

Like he always did, Rafa saw it as a problem to fix, a cause with a solution that was within his grasp—always within his grasp. So now he was off the coke, too. Cold turkey and rotting from it.

It was Cuco that told you how unwell he was; on a clear day, blue and unfitting of the message, he asked you to come over. Ayudame, he said, I don’t know what else to do.

Tomorrow, you told him, it’s the soonest I can.

Today, when you get there, he looks scared; pale and tired and damp with old sweat.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ you say, and you regret it immediately, because he nods. He agrees. He’s the only one Rafa will let into the room.

‘It’s bad, man,’ he says. ‘Hallucinating and shit.’ He rubs at his neck, inches from the door like he’d been waiting for the excuse to. ‘I only called you because he started saying your name.’

‘Mine?’

‘Yours and Sofia’s,’ he corrects, ‘but he told me…’ He sighs, then shrugs. ‘I’m not allowed to call her.’

‘Entiendo.’ You don’t want more of an explanation. ‘Can I?’ You gesture to the closed door in front of you. They’ve shut him in like a beast, oiled mahogany set firmly between them and him, him and you.

Cuco nods and waves you forward. You can see a warning on his tongue, in the pinch of his brows. When he decides against it, shaking his head instead, you leave him in the hall behind.  

‘Rafa?’

You push the door open, shut it again behind you. The room’s dim despite the light from the high sun, drawn into shade with thin, orange curtains. One of the doors to the balcony is open, its partnering drape curls into the room on the breeze behind. Everything done in an attempt to make the space feel relaxing, unconfined and airy and easy on the eyes, everything done without reward, because Rafa’s not here.  

You scan the room again. The covers are twisted from the bed, half off the mattress and onto the tiled floor beneath. You follow the disarray. Photo frames knocked down and smashed, discarded bowls of untouched food, ash trays that haven’t been emptied. Clothes that have been torn off and left where they fell. It’s a den, a cage. Distress that’s been played out and abandoned afterwards.

The bathroom door’s open, the trail of clothes leading right to it.

‘Rafa?’ you call again, but the shower’s on; he won’t hear you over the water.

You pause a step in from the doorway. The mirrors are fogged, the tiles are wet with condensation. It’s been running long enough to make the room uncomfortable, damp and warm, more of a wet room than the stylised bathroom it was designed to be. Like walking into the overused swamp of a public swimming pool.

Rafa’s stood with his back to you, head under the stream. He’s naked, hair flat and dripping, with his hands against the wall in front. The water’s so hot, that it’s managed to anger the skin over his shoulder blades. The stretch marks up his back, from that growth spurt he had at fifteen, are angry looking, like they’re complaining too.

‘It’s me,’ you say, louder now.

His head lifts weakly. ‘Sofia?’

No, not her, only you.

You take off your coat, your shoes, your socks. Pile them all up on the dry floor behind. For a moment, you consider taking the rest off too, but you’ll try this way first. The shower won’t saturate you completely, if just for a minute.

‘Rafa, you should come out now.’ You’re standing on the edge of the shower basin, a towel from the side clutched in your hands. When he doesn’t move, you put it over your shoulder and reach in for him. ‘No quieres saludarme, amigo?’

He flinches at first, at your palm to his shoulder, then he comes to, peels away from the wall and toward you with ease. Slow, then all at once.

‘Easy,’ you coo, ‘easy.’

You put the towel around him as he turns, lift the edges to dry his face once he finally shows it to you.  

It’s bad, it is. You don’t know enough about withdrawals to know if it’s normal. If he’s supposed to look like this, if it’s part of the process. You don’t know if it’s even the drugs at all, but you know him, and you know this is bad for him. Lights off in the fucking dark.

What if this is him now? What if this is what happened while you were away, and it’s set too deep to be undone?

He looks scared, more than anything. Tired and sickly, yes, but his eyes are wide, and lost, and then welling up as your name falls from his tongue. The recognition at last, the return of the friend you’re used to.

‘You have to help me,’ he says, ‘I can’t do it, I can’t.’

‘I know. I know.’ You step back with him, holding the ends of the towel close under his chin. ‘Let’s get you dry, hm? Get you dressed, get something to eat.’ That first, that for now.

‘I miss her,’ he rushes, urgent like you had to hear it. ‘Sofia, I have to see her.’

‘Okay,’ you tell him. ‘Okay, we’ll call her.’

It might be a lie, a false promise. You haven’t decided what’s right yet. What’ll help and what’ll make it worse. You just have to get him out of this foggy room, out of the towel and into something comfortable and warm.

‘I miss you,’ he says, in the same way. Desperate, quick, like he’s only got a few words left to give. ‘You know that, right? I miss you, too.’

You pause. Nod. If he was his usual self, he’d see right through the gesture, know that you were lying; saying yes just to say yes. But his teeth are chattering now. His eyes focus—in and out—on you, desperately. His hands layer over yours and the corners of the towel.

‘You won’t leave again?’ he asks, shaking the two of you. ‘You’ll stay until I’m better?’

‘Yeah,’ you tell him, because it’s true for now, even if his better is worse than he’s ever been before. ‘Yeah, I’ll stay as long as you need me, Rafi.’

5

He never comes to your house. He never comes to your house. So why is he here now? Pounding on your door and peppering the button until the bell can’t complete a full ring anymore. It just spits out one shrill note, over and over. You’re there within the first couple minutes of his assault, and he’s acting like you’re late still, like you’ve kept him waiting. He doesn’t even let you say hello first, but pushes past you into the hall instead, like there’s a dog going for his heels. Nipping the tendons.

‘Jesus, Rafa,’ you scold, shutting the door behind him. ‘You forget your manners, cabrón?’

When you turn, he’s wild looking, eyes big and pupils swollen. High, you assume. He grabs your hands before you can comment on it. Both of them together, pinned into his damp palms.

‘What are you…’

‘I need you to trust me,’ he says. ‘No questions, okay?’

You take him in again. He’s erratic, fidgety, his shirt is done incorrectly—one button left at the bottom, one side longer than the other. So, he’s dressed in a hurry, driven in a hurry. Rushed to your door with an urgency you can’t grasp onto yet; it slips through your fingers, like him, like what you had. Scatters in the hallway like dropped ball-bearings. You can’t catch him like you used to.

‘Did something happen?’ you ask, bringing your gaze back to his face. ‘Are you in danger?’

‘No,’ he answers, too quick, all breath. His head shakes. ‘No, no, we just have to go away for a while.’ A smile. White teeth and false promise. ‘Okay?’

Not in danger yet, he means. Not if he’s fast enough.

‘We?’ You take a step back, pulling your hands free with a struggle, and he follows; you turn, head into the living room, and he tracks behind you still. ‘Rafa, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done, but—’

‘Me and Sofia will go first,’ he says over you, ‘then I want you to come. Okay? Te necesito demasiado para—’

And now you cut him off, turning back to him quickly. ‘Me? Me come with you?’

He nods, hair bouncing.

‘Come on, Rafi.’

‘Why not? Only for a while.’

‘Do you even realise what you’re asking?’ you ask, pointing a finger to his chest, pad to the stitching across his shirt. Spirals over the collarbone. ‘Have you actually stopped to think? I have a job, Rafa, a life. I’m not involved in your,’ your search for the word, the title of all his erratic decisions: adventures, war, ‘bullshit.’ Yeah, that fits.

‘Why?’ he asks, as he always does. Why won’t you let me help you? Why can’t I share this with you? ‘This isn’t like the other times,’ he adds. ‘It’s. It’s.’

‘Life or death?’

He scoffs, too dramatic to be natural, or innocent, then turns away to hide from the fact. Trying to compose himself, no doubt. Plan another lie. He thinks you don’t see the warning signs, the flaming lights behind his eyes. ‘No, just,’ he winds back to you, ‘please. You can’t trust me?’

You puff a hot breath out of your nose and allow the moment to still before trying again.

‘Have you planned any part of this, or did you do too much coke and come here on a whim?’ you ask evenly. You’re not judging him, but you have to know. Fear or drugs. It’s one of the two. You stare at him afterwards, waiting for an answer.

Then he looks down, and you look down, and you see that he’s brought a set of tickets from somewhere, clutched in his hand now, and is waiting to present them to you.

‘No mames, Rafi.’ You laugh flatly, head shaking as you take a step back, like the space will make your message clearer. ‘You thought you could show up with tickets and I’d leave? Just like that? Leave everything and follow you to,’ you pull his wrist up to read, ‘Costa Rica?’

He hesitates, chews the words into his bottom lip before admitting, ‘Well, yeah. It’s all paid for, carnale.’

You scoff.

‘You only have to get on the plane.’

Just get in the car, just come to the house, just pick up the phone. You roll your eyes and push the tickets back into his stomach. It’s too much, this time. This is something he can fix for himself. Whatever it is doesn’t have to involve you for once. ‘I’m not going,’ you tell him.

He catches your arm before you can turn. ‘Okay, okay,’ he says, and the break in his voice is enough to make you wait. ‘It’s important. Serious. I have to leave for a bit.’

‘Why?’

His chin twitches. You don’t need to know.

‘And Sofia…?’

‘She wants to come with me,’ he answers. ‘And I want you to come too, once it’s safe.’

You eye him. He’s smart still, it’s always in there, under all the shit, so there must be a logic to it. There must be some formula he’s got in mind, right? You just aren’t seeing it. You aren’t built the way he is. ‘For how long?’ you ask.

He laughs, shrugging. ‘As long as you want. About time you had a vacation, no?’

But that’s not the point, is it, primo?

‘I don’t like this, Rafa. This, this shit.’ You shake your head, force a deep breath. You can’t be considering this, you can’t. ‘It’s not me,’ you argue, it’s not you. ‘This is too far.’

‘I know, I know.’ His hands come up again, fussing. The tickets bend as he takes you by the shoulders. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

But what are you even agreeing to? What does he need you for, when he’d have Sofia with him already? Why would you go if he was going to—

‘You aren’t coming back, are you?’ It comes out as you realise it. He wants you to follow him there, because he might never come back, he might not be able to. ‘Is that it?’

You watch his gaze drop, his chin lower. His stomach pouches slightly as he slackens with the confession. No hiding now, Rafi.

‘Yeah,’ he admits, before pushing a palm into the front of his hair, fingers scraping, ‘maybe. I don’t know how it will go.’

And now the dread’s setting in. Rooting in your heels, the back of your neck. Things have never been this way before, not even close. ‘You know I can’t follow you, right?’ you say quietly. ‘Even if I come, for a little while, I can’t run with you forever.’

He nods, slight enough that you almost miss it. ‘I know.’

‘And if I do come, you can’t ask me again. To follow you. You can’t expect it of me.’

‘Yes.’ A step toward you. ‘Of course, entiendo.’

You’re losing the fight to deny him. He said two weeks until you go, más o menos, so you have time to sort something with work, if you want to. And what’s two weeks in Costa Rica after that, even if it is a goodbye? There are worse places for this to meet its end. One final time, you could show out for him just one final time, and then put it to bed. No more friendship, no more relying on you to pile up the bricks again. If he can’t come home afterwards, then you will, alone, and he’ll be free to take on the world. All by himself. Just as he wanted to.

‘Promise you’ll pick up if I ring?’ he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes. He’s sincere, pleading almost. He needs it, he needs you.

You nod.

‘And that you’ll meet me there.’ He taps the tickets you still haven’t taken from him. ‘Two weeks from now. We’ll meet you at the airport, okay?’

‘What if they find out where you are?’

A laugh you don’t like twitches out of him; he isn’t taking it seriously. He doesn’t realise how easy it is to fall yet, how close he is to the sun. ‘They won’t,’ he says. ‘Why would they? I’m nobody out there.’

He’s never been nobody anywhere. Even before all this shit.

‘They’ll think we’re on our honeymoon,’ he goes on, ‘and then me and you, and Sofia, we’ll go somewhere else. Somewhere new.’

‘And then I’ll come home,’ you add. He’s already talking like he’s forgotten, like he thinks you’ll follow him across the globe, one step behind as always. ‘And you will too, if you can,’ you prompt.

He nods, quick and unconvincing. ‘Por supuesto. Just as you say.’

You don’t believe him any more than he believes it himself.

6

‘Your pockets,’ the man instructs, without even looking at you. He’s looking over you, past your shoulder. Waiting for you to empty what’s in your jacket without so much of a hint that he’s talking to you in the first place. ‘Into the tray.’

You scoop out your car keys, your lighter. The cinema ticket from a couple weeks ago. Put them all into the plastic tray on the low counter beside you, obliging because there’s no choice. When you stand straight again, he mimes for you to put your arms up and out, so you do, and then begins to pat you down, all without really looking at you still. Eyes always elsewhere, head always titled slightly away, like he’s bored. Kind of like he hates to even be near you. He pats along your arms, then under them, over your chest and down your sides, over the jeans, your thighs—

‘Clear.’

You wait. Arms out still. He steps back.

‘Can I…?’

His head bobs up and down, a forced nod, as he grabs the tray of your things and pushes it toward you. You just about catch it before he lets go and steps around to face the person waiting behind you. His next unfortunate victim, good luck to them.

Why you agreed to this, you don’t know. Well, of course you fucking do, because that’s how it goes every time, isn’t it? Rafa calls, you come. Rafa needs help, you save the day. Rafa gets himself fucking arrested, and here you are, going through security in the mangiest looking prison you’ve ever seen, and never thought you’d step into, getting patted down for entry by a guard who looks like he’d spray you down with bleach if he wasn’t on camera. Just because you’re here, and someone you love is in there, waiting behind the bars. The association alone is more than enough for him to judge you.

And maybe he’s right to. Maybe everyone worth something would be smart enough to say no to this.

You never made it to Costa Rica, he got caught before he even had the chance to ring and give the all clear. The tickets are on your bedside still. Not that you’d even decided to use them; you were waiting for the call, to see what your gut would say once the exact moment of it came, and then it never did. And you watched the arrest on the news until your gut said to turn it off, so you listened then, instead.

They got Sofia too, and she sold him out like the criminal he is, without hesitation, confirmed his name without even weighing the options—you know, because that’s what he told you on that first call he was allowed. No hi, no apology. He spoke for two minutes before you even opened your mouth.

I’d have done the same, you said to him. Lying would’ve made it worse.

Not for him, of course. He’d reached the end of that rope. It would’ve made things worse for her, tagged her into the downfall alongside him, so it’s good that she avoided it. She stands a better chance of a future having done it.

She probably told them where I was in the first place, he said, though he didn’t mean it. It was all anger. Hurt. Liquid regret pouring through the handset. No-one knew we were there, carnale. Fucking no-one.

But it could only ever have been him that got himself into something like this. It was, every time, it was. He made every decision that led him to this moment, to this place. To this dingy visitors room with indoor picnic tables, and steel hoops for cuffs to be attached in the centre of them.

I’ll come see you, you said and you left it at that. The rest has to be done in person. You at least owe him that mercy, after everything. You’ll look him in the eye to say it.

In the doorway, you’re greeted by a less indifferent guard. He sits his clipboard on his curving stomach and asks for the prisoners name, looking at you, then your name, still looking at you, then ticks you both off and nods for you to continue into the room. He even smiles as he does, just a bit. It’s in the corners of his mouth as a gesture of goodwill.

You thought that maybe you’d have to search for him, but it mustn’t be a busy day for visitors. There’s a full table to your right, father, mother, kids. Food unwrapped and shared over the top of it. A couple are huddled over another in the far corner, as close to kissing as you assume they’re allowed, hands locked, noses tip to tip.

And then there’s Rafa, right in the middle.

He’s looking at you already, facing the door, expectant. He’s smiling so big that you catch onto it immediately, unintentionally. You shoot your own smile back at him before remembering why you’re here in the first place. It wasn’t the plan to come in like this was any other, normal reunion, like you’re seeing him after an impromptu vacation. The plan, was to be a friend to yourself, for once. You set your mouth back into the line firm you’d practiced with.

‘You look well,’ you admit, as you sit across from him. ‘Was expecting you to look like shit, Rafi.’

He laughs, unfazed, and goes with rattling wrists to hold your hands briefly. ‘I’ve been counting down the hours, carnale.’

You watch his hands over yours. The cuffs on his wrists, the chain between them and the hoop on the table that they’re welded to. This is the first time ever, really, that he’s been pinned down in one place, trapped with nowhere to go. The first problem he’s faced that he can’t think his way out of. It’s as unbecoming of him as you’d expect it to be.

‘I can’t stay long,’ you tell him.  

‘It’s okay, I don’t mind.’ He’s smiling still, shaking his head likes it’s nothing. ‘I’ve been going fucking crazy in here,’ he says, ‘not even Neto wants to talk to me.’

‘Neto’s here too?’

You’ve met him before, of course. He isn’t a character you can forget easily.

Rafa nods. ‘They’ve separated us now.’

‘Why?’

‘Ahh…’ he sucks a breath through his teeth, winds his head away then back again, ‘es basura, he hates me, or something. Told the guards I’d kill him in his sleep.’

You raise a brow, a would you? brow. He just laughs.

‘Pinche viejo is paranoid,’ he explains. ‘Wants this place to be his kingdom.’

‘And you can’t have a kingdom with two kings, right?’

When he laughs this time, you join him, and again, for a minute, you forget what you’re here for. You let it stand. Just us, for a moment longer, Rafi. Peace before the storm.

He sighs on the come down, lifting his hands until the chain is taut. ‘Pues, qué clase de rey es esto, hm? Si Mama pudiera verme ahora.’

You nudge him under the table, your sneaker against his prison-issued pants. ‘She’d tell the guards they aren’t feeding you enough, flaco.’

A smile, another in return. Time to get it over with. He doesn’t know it—or maybe he does, maybe he’s always known—but he’s sanding back your conviction, as usual, one grin at a time.

‘Mira, I should tell you, Rafi.’ You cough, then look down to fiddle with the already scratched skin by your nail-bed. Say it. Say it. ‘I won’t come again.’ There.

‘What?’

‘After today…’

Your throat dries. You’d rehearsed it in the mirror; it wasn’t the same as speaking over the table in front of you. Honestly, you’d hoped you would at least have some glass between, you were counting on it, even. Something for his reaction to bounce off. Instead, it strikes you directly now, clear and targeted, hurt from his face right onto yours.

‘I won’t visit you,’ you manage. ‘Anymore.’

The tourists in the cantina, the university professor. The fucking DEA agent. How did you overlook all of that? The cocaine, Sofia, fleeing to Costa Rica. He’s been souring since he’d swapped you for Miguel, himself for the business. Been gone before you’d even realised. You’ve spent all this time trying to stitch him back together, keep the body whole, keep the motor running, and he was already a ghost. Gone through the fucking cracks. You were just too sentimental to see it, too loyal to the kid you’d met at the end of the street.

‘You won’t see me after this,’ you reiterate. ‘I should have done it a long time ago, but this is it, Rafi, this is where I get off.’

No more phone calls, no more cars sent for you. No more advice on things you had no right to be speaking on in the first place. This, is where you draw the line. You can’t put everything on hold and wait for him now. There’s a life for you outside of him. Outside of this.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ he says again, as dumbstruck as the first time. ‘Why?’ He leans forward and there’s a lingering smile behind his voice, an edge of disbelief. ‘It’s over now, I’m done.’ He thinks he’s invincible still, even at the end.

‘It’s always been about you, Rafa,’ you push, looking at the table instead of his hope, ‘every time, it’s all about you. I can’t do it anymore. I have to…’

He goes for your hands but you pull away. It doesn’t deter him. ‘You finally have me back,’ he says. ‘After I’m out, we do whatever you want, okay? No more shit.’

You shake your head. ‘I won’t wait, Rafa.’

He laughs, a hollow, limp sound. ‘It’s not like I’m asking you sit around doing nothing, carnale. Come on, you can’t spare a few hours a week to see your oldest friend?’

The silence can answer him this time. You let it work through the gaps, dowsing the humour he’s clinging to.

‘What?’ he continues, sounding anxious now. ‘You want to get married and move away, or something?’

‘Rafa…'

It’s starting to sink in. You can’t look at him, can’t watch it turn over in his head. The corners of his mouth dropping, the pinch of his brows. You can’t look. False woodgrain in the plastic table. His shoulders. His eyes. The chains between his wrists clatter as his arms go slack.

‘You won’t even call?’ he asks.

‘No.’

Maybe. Maybe on birthdays.

‘I shouldn’t,’ you tell him. ‘It’s better this way.’

He scoffs. It’s a sour enough sound to make you wince. ‘For who?’ he asks. ‘I need you in here, I’ll go crazy, I’ll—’

‘For me, Rafa.’ That’s the point, the whole point, and still he doesn’t get it. ‘It’s better for me, and I have to do it.’

And he has to let you. He said he wouldn’t ask again, wouldn’t expect you to follow him everywhere he went. Just because he’s stuck in one place now, doest mean you have to be too. One of you deserves a win, right? You won’t serve time on his behalf.

‘I’m sorry.’ You say it to the side of his face because he isn’t looking at you, won’t look at you. ‘Maybe something will…’ No, you stop yourself, put the wheel straight again. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve said something earlier. Long ago. I shouldn’t have waited until now.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You never let me—’

‘Well, if it’s my fault,’ he shrugs, ‘what else is there to talk about.’ He spares a moment to flick his eyes in your direction—and they betray him. Show the child behind the face. ‘Go,’ he says to the wall again, ‘you don’t want to be here.’

You don’t, and if this is how he wants to be, then fine, conversation over. Cloth cut from the body at last.

When you stand, he’s looking away still, with his forearms crossed over the table—awkward, but it’s what the cuffs allow—and you won’t say goodbye to the cheek of him, so you don’t say anything else at all.

You’ve found your track, now it’s time to run it, right to the end. Just like he would.

[willkimurashat]

So, my friends invited me over to watch the PG rated hit family film Cats (2019). Can we have a moment of silence for my forever lost innocence please? … Thank you. Anyway, so now that I’m greatly disturbed and utterly horrified, here’s a LITG x Cats crossover absolutely no one asked for lmao

Casting LITG islanders as characters from Cats (not necessarily from 2019 version because wtf was that)

Marisol/Camilo as Munkustrap

Imposing, energetic, courageous. Leader and protector of the Jellicle cats tribe. Responsible and brave. Narrator and story-teller.

S5 MC as Victoria

Young, inhibited, inquisitive. Naive and kind-hearted, abandoned by previous owners. Longs to be wanted and loved.

Chelsea/Thabi as Jennyanydots

Motherly, contended, controlling. Lazying around during the day, running the household during the night. Cheerful and good-humored with bossy side.

Priya and Bobby/Iona and Najuma as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer

Mischievous, rambunctious, ne’er-do-well. Fun-loving criminal duo, generally well-received by other cats. Notorious partners in crime.

Lexi/Cherry as Grizzabella

Proud, hurt, indomitable. Once a glamorous star, now exiled and disgraced. Sad and wistful, despised by the Jellicle cats, longs for forgiveness.

Lottie/Suresh as Macavity

Hypnotic, jealous, dangerous. Malevolent criminal mastermind, eludes the police and strikes fear in other Jellicle cats.

Angie/Lulu as Old Deutoronomy

Wise, commanding, spiritual. Kind and just leader of the Jellicle cats, beloved by everyone. An ancient cat with psychic powers and spiritual connection with Heavyside layer.

Mason/Rafi/Finn as Rum Tum Tugger

Vain, perverse, inconsequent. Charismatic, self-obsessed show-off. Rock star with wild anarchic energy and comedic sexuality.

Kat as Bombalurina

Generous, voluptuous, frank. Self-confident and very direct about feelings. Extremely flirtatious and the center of attention.

Rohan/Henrik/Alfie as Mr. Mistoffelees

Competitive, neat, electric. Mysterious and clever conjuring cat. Up to mischief or performing amusing magic tricks.

Bruno/Tai as Skimbleshunks

Caring, bright, self-regarding. Protector of the kittens when danger is near. Jolly and cheerful, remembered by his signature gigantic smile and bright personality.

Will as Gus the Theatrical Cat

Wistful, imaginative, frail. Fragile and feeble old cat, reminiscing about his days of being an actor. Initially vague and a little confused, but becomes more confident and outspoken.

Jake/Tom as Bustopher Jones

Foppish, gluttonous, dapper. Genial and cheerful, enjoys life to the fullest. Particularly interested in fine dining and cuisine at gentlemen’s clubs. Leaves swiftly at first sign of trouble.

[redspacewriter]

g i f t s : l o v e i s l a n d t h e g a m e

✦ hold on tight (and don't let go) | SEB X MC

✦ when the stars align, they burn bright | TIM X MC

✦ three little words and four bigger ones | LUCAS X MC

✦ take a risk | HENRIK X OC

✦ fixing the heater | HENRIK X MC

✦ perfect birthday celebration | TIM X MC

✦ are you a man whore? | TIM X MC

✦ book covers | RAFI X MC

✦ caring quietly | GARY X MC

✦ sometimes revenge is a choice you gotta make | YOUCEF + MC

✦ mix and match | KASSAM X OC

✦ don’t ask me to stay | TYLER X MC

g i f t s : o t h e r

✦ happy birthday, gorgeous | JONATHAN X OC

✦ wrong number | JACK X MC

✦ language | TIM X MC

a r t c o m m i s s i o n s

✦ the crew by bobbysapron

✦ oc: renny by nerdferatum

✦ oc: aviel by nerdferatum

✦ oc: aviel + seven by aelwen-art

✦ oc: seven as phantom by nerdferatum

✦ girls night out by smaiihands

✦ oc: alix + oliver by nerdferatum

✦ oc: aviel + jake by nerdferatum

✦ tim by nerdferatum for reggie

✦ youcef by nerdferatum for bryn

✦ jake by nerdferatum

✦ hamish & tom by nerdferatum for jessie

✦ the boys by nerdferatum

[god-save-the-keen]

You deserve it honey...

[valentina-walker]

anyone else restart day 10 because they were fooled 😔

[sunshineandviolets]

stay mad babe 😋

[ravenadottir]

rewriting boat party: day 1

i decided this shit show needed some corrections, and i can't stop thinking about what i would do, so i'm gonna have (roughly) 5 posts with everything i would change, starting by day 1, the most important setup for the entire event.

li x mc, the fight

i would have three different storylines to give the 9 li's, divided according to mc's personality and reasoning to fight for good. later on each li's individual motivations would be revealed.

1. for tai, aj and rafi: mc's stressed out about work/fame, so the li's joke too much to avoid the thing that's really bothering them.

2. for bill, yasmin and ciaran: mc's pushing her partner to take on more projects while doing more for herself. they storm off because they don't feel seen or heard.

3. for lily, camilo, harry: mc just wants to just enjoy some time with her partner but they're always distracted with something, especially in the last few weeks. it sparks a fight because they've been pretending to listen to what she says. mc is the one who storms out and stays somewhere else.

bff x mc

you call your bff and they advise you to not try to patch things up before some time has passed, because right now you two need to think about what you want from this relationship so there's no confusion next time you talk.

"and i told them the same thing, so..."

"you talked to them?!"

"they called... and i answered. but i really think you two should really think about what you want from each other before trying to talk."

after a few days from the bff dialogue, your phone rings with elladine's text, and almost right after your li sends a text checking on you, asking if you want to meet and talk about it. three options:

1. we were right, we need space

2. we can meet today

3. we can talk it out on the boat

if you choose to meet that day, the encounter will be pretty brief because you're not ready to talk calmly.

on the boat

the event is about to start, and you would be able to pet kerry for free, FIRST OF ALL.

meeting your li there after an attempt to patch things up just the night before would be far more awkward, and given no one told elladine about the fight, there are no more empty rooms. the li will have to share that one with mc.

"it's fine, we can take turns on the couch or something."

"great."

when reunited on the boat, people start noticing things aren't as smooth as they could be, and your bff comes in to ask you how are things after you didn't take their advice and met your partner last night.

"wait, how did you...?"

"come on, i'm your best friend, i knew you were gonna be stubborn. do you want to meet later to talk about it?"

"it's a date."

paddleboarding: li x other people

it would make sense for them to want to make mc a little jealous, to see her reaction. childish? absolutely. that's what i want, because otherwise there are no real stakes here.

whoever the person is they have no idea about your fight but they're interested in mc's partner, enough to make some innuendos. and yes, the li will be accepting of those.

now it makes sense for mc to want to play the same game OR to be the bigger person and keep everything friendly.

back to the room mc will come at them, talking about the paddleboarding portion. if she chose to be touchy with her paddleboarding partner:

MC: "you think i didn't notice what you two were doing?!"

LI: "we weren't doing anything more than you were."

MC: "you... you know what? i'm out of here!"

if she wasn't touchy with her paddleboarding partner:

MC: "you think i didn't notice what you two were doing?!"

LI: "we weren't doing anything wrong! it's a physical activity, of course we touched each other!"

MC: "you... you know what? i'm out of here!"

she grabs her things and looks for her bff. their partner wants to help but doesn't know how, so they leave. there's a hint of jealousy of how much time they're already spending but they don't say anything.

a dialogue with the bff happens and mc tells them about the fight.

"well, you can't stay in the same place together? how's that gonna work?"

"i'll sleep by the pool, i don't care. i can't see them right now."

this is the end of day 1. i would keep a lot of the dialogues, everything from the podcast, the other islanders and their stories, pretty much everything else would stay the same.

also, most of the buiding up they used for some characters is really not bad at all, it just feels like the resolution was rushed, so i'll be focusing on those.

[keikilahela]

Some LITG fanfic ideas because idk where else to put them

my brain had a bunch of ideas so I decided to put them in a place.

also some are below the cut because I don't want people's dashboards getting clogged

S1

- sammi x mc

- ideal jake route

- ideal rohan route

- modifying Cherrygate

- ex. changing the people involved

- ideal tim route

- ideal Allegra route

- ideal cherry route

- modifying the reunion

- ex. more drama over stealing someone's partner

- miles/Jasper being salty about MC stealing Allegra

- giving Sammi more screentime

S2

- angsty fics with popular LIs (Bobby, Lucas, Noah, etc.)

- Blake x MC

- Shannon x MC

- ideal Noah route

- ideal Elisa route

- slowburn Gary route

- slowburn Rahim route

- a Rocco route if he had stayed

- a timeline where RLurik is replaced by R!Rocco

- Marisol is conflicted over choosing Rocco or Graham once R!Rocco pulls up (I've seen this idea floating around on both the subreddit and Tumblr but as far as I know I don't think anyone has written a fic for this)

- ideal runaway with Lottie/Hannah at the wedding

- Hannah x MC

- running away with Priya or Chelsea at the wedding

- Player Bobby

- LI cheats on MC or vice versa at the afterparty

S3

- MC came to play the game and steal the money but Viv and Seb/Tai and Ciaran ended up winning

- your LI gets mad for you stealing the money and instantly breaks up with you

- getting to run away with the BFFs at the Boat Party

- running away with Iona/Miki at the Boat Party

- adding a mix of S1 & S2 drama to S3

- ex. Lily/Rafigate (basically Cherrygate but replace Cherry and Levi/Mason with Lily/Rafi and MC's LI)

- another ex. integrating Casa Amor into S1 and/or S3

- MC walks on day 10 instead because Lily/Rafi chose their LI

- Ciaran and Tai post-villa

Future S4 possibilities

- Tim and Bobby pull up as returning islanders

- All Stars where you can romance everyone including the host and the narrator

- MC gets dumped mid season

[hopeshoodie]

Your post is an eye-opener bc I joke about how Nick treats mc but actually yeah I do that with annoying/creepy guys who are interested in me, in a college party, pre covid, a new teacher was kinda into me, I was like 20, he 27 i think, I just keep saying "o wow, I'm so young, I'm not really ready for the adult life haha, how is that like teacher X"

So I started this talking about fan reception to Nicky but that got way too long so I’ll post it separately. But YES. I do that too. I had to stop comparing clients to my dad because they thought it was hot, but the ‘lol you’re like my -insert platonic relationship here-’ is SUPPOSED to clue people in.

Maybe it’s bad writing, but I love my headcanon that the reason Nicky calls MC his sister over and over again isn’t because it’s a glitch, it’s because he’s super uncomfy with her interest in him.

Obviously it depends how you play MC (I played MC as best friends with Ella/Viv, and she was never interested in Nicky/Seb) but it would explain how little original friendship dialogue there is written between Nicky and MC. Below the cut is strictly my headcanon for how S3 played out

From my Nicky playthrough, he really just says the exact same things other besties say with little added personality outside of calling MC his sister. So my headcanon from that was Nicky and MC were never /really/ friends.

Stick with me for this, but Nicky’s a messy bitch. He and Seb are lowkey… Kind of catty. Like they both tell MC that her partner might be looking elsewhere before Rafi and Lily come in, but unlike Viv and Seb they don’t make an effort to reassure her. They just make the little ‘oops I put my foot in my mouth’ comment and leave MC to spiral. We know that MC’s LI isn’t cheating on her at that point because Rafi/Lily haven’t come in yet, and even when they do the LI doesn’t switch. So it seems to me like Ella and Nicky were trying to stir the pot, whereas maybe Viv/Seb heard a rumor and genuinely don’t want to upset MC with it because it’s unfounded.

So Nicky’s a messy bitch, and day 1 MC comes up to him and is like “can we go somewhere and talk” and then declares him her best friend. I think this is their friendship dynamic for the rest of the game- MC’s convinced they’re friends while Nicky is smug and a bit taken aback by her continued interest. He eagerly soaks up all the gossip she comes to him with, but at the end of the day doesn’t add much in the way of supportive suggestions or comfort.

All the while he’s playing this fake game, he and Ella are hanging out and laughing about it. So when MC starts catching genuine feelings, he’s a little guilty and alarmed. He keeps sister-zoning her very explicitly, but she’s not taking the hint. It gets to the point where he and Ella are sitting on the law and he goes “is she looking at me?” and they checks then nod. As his relationship with Ella gets more serious, Nicky starts to genuinely feel bad about faking a friendship with MC, and keeps trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not interested in her. That takes us through the end of the season when Nicky/Ella leave, and the finale where Nicky hits on MC if she steals the money.

Obviously none of this is canon, but I had to invent a lot to make S3 bearable. 

[cin-dy-moon]

What did you think of the last LITG episode? (I love reading your opinions lol 😭) I still feel like it was OOC and didn’t make any sense for our li to act so flustered around the new houseguests when they were still loyal to us, but what do I know lolll

Oh-hooooo let me sit down, cause this is gonna be another essay.

First, I should say that I’m not mad at the actual plot point. I think that we needed a reason to build trust with our LIs and this was one way it could happen. I think that freaking us and our MCs out is a good thing. HOWEVER, that doesn’t mean that Fusebox (clownbox) executed this well at all.

1) The way our MCs could not talk to our LIs was bullshit. As soon as our LIs were like “ummmm...” when it came to our MC’s name, I would’ve pulled them over like “what the f*ck was that?”. Especially when they could have s*x in the shower that morning. It made no sense. There are other ways to show that someone’s head is being turned than to have them forget your MC’s name. What could they have done instead? I don’t know. I haven’t taken the time to think about that. Why? Cause that’s not my job. LOL I’m not about to do the heavy lifting for free. Not in this pandemic, not in this economy. I think that having a conversation with our LI should have been a top priority while writing this plot point.

2) The timing of this is also dumb. I think that if we were to have something like this happen, there would need to be five more days instead of three. This should have been the mid-point climax. It’s so weird that the sequence was an argument being overheard to this.... it just doesn’t make sense. I don’t even think that it would’ve made sense to move everything to earlier in the season, because when else would it have happened? I mean there was two whole weeks of NOTHING happening, not an ounce of drama. So perhaps deleting one of those days between day 2-4 so that all of the drama could have a better flow could be an option, but I think that we really just need more time towards the end at this point.

3) I can understand why people find that these past two days seem OOC, but again, I’m not mad that this happened, but I only like it in theory. The execution is where I had the brunt of my issues. Perhaps if they had more time, they could’ve really made sure that each LI had dialogue and actions that better suited each of them while still having it be like “will your LI’s head be turned?” Also, I don’t think that having Lily/Rafi interact flirtatiously with your LI and for your LI to “indulge” is necessarily a bad thing. It’s Love Island. Your LI will be grafted on by old and new islanders. Honestly, I think that I could see our LIs just trying to be polite or even actually indulging in it a little bit. But AGAIN, not being able to talk about it other than a “oh my gosh that was so close, I don’t wanna lose you” surface-level bullsh*t convo... that’s a mistake. It’s bad writing. Also, because it’s Love Island, I think it’s actually kinda understandable that a new person could come in and your LI can be like “oh shit, they’re hot” but AGAIN, not being able to communicate is making me go absolutely insane (especially when my Venus is in Taurus... bitch I was going crazzzyyyy).

I just wanna know which writer at clownbox needs to love themselves better. You deserve better!!! You don’t need to let yourself be treated this way. LMAO let me stop. But yeah, the more I think about it, the more I think that this season is just crippled by BAD writing. Like stinks so bad you can smell it from across the street.

[cyb3r-kat]

Come Hold Me Tight

Pairing: Griffin X MC (Sage Carina)

Book: The Elementalist

Word count : +3000

Rated: M 18+

A/N: literally no reason for this to exist expect that it’s a very self indulgent fic and I’m a Griffin stan lmao. This takes places in book one shortly after the defeat of Rafie.

inspiration list: @ladynonsense @indiacater

tag list / Griffin stan list : @pixeljazzy @drakewalkerwhipped

“You’re still awake?”

“Everything is keeping me awake.”

It’s only been a few weeks since Sage and Atlas has defeated Rafie. Of course with the help of their friends they nearly killed it wouldn’t have been possible, but everyone focused on the two of them being the ones who did it. Sage didn’t like it, in fact she fucking loathed it. Everyone always asked how she was, if she was okay, hell even seemed to treat her like she glass about to break. It got old, it got tiring… it just got to be too much. She wasn’t okay, not by a long shot. The nightmares kept her up, anxiety just seemed to be higher than ever and her mind every now and then flashed back to the events. Even when she’s in class it always went back and she’d have to excuse herself from class and have a good long cry in the bathroom. While her friends did their best to not treat her like a thing of glass, it still showed through time to time. Beckett was especially bad at it, she thought mainly it has to do with the fact she just hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done and the guilt was eating at him. It just made it harder to forgive him in the end. Grudges were a hard thing to let go of.

Griffin’s strong arms wrapped around her waist and his soft lips plant a kiss on her shoulder. He pressed his warm body against her own as she melted into a wave of comfort and easiness. Sage saw how hard he beat himself up over what happened. He wished it been him, wasn’t so useless being unconscious for a majority of the fight. She saw the struggle in him to let her have the space she wanted while also wanting to be there every waking moment for her. That’s just who he was and it’s what made her fall head over heels for someone like him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Griffin asks softly as his hands trace small patterns and swirls across the small of her back.

Sage turned over and faced him. She reached out and touched his face, running a finger over his cheek looking at the gash on his eyebrow that was healing over into a scar. “I just wish I hadn’t hurt you, Griffin, you didn’t deserve it.”

He grabbed her hand and pressed it against lips in a small tender kiss. “As you didn’t deserve what you went through too. Sage, you and Atlas could have died. Rafie was this close to killing you both and I think everyday how if I had just been more careful, more attentive, I could have protected you both better. I could have protected you better, Sage.”

The threat of tears come to her eyes as she swallowed hard and blinks quickly to hide them. She moves closer to him and pressed her forehead against his. The mix of air and earth magick swirls in the air but they don’t work against each other, rather, they seem to work with one another. There aren’t many words that slip past their lips in the moment. It’s a silence she welcomes as she feels a few tears be let go as he wipes them away with kisses. Being with him, it’s the most calm she’s felt in awhile.

Being with him just felt right.

She opened her eyes slowly and were met with his gorgeous hazel eyes. Such a beautiful deep brown that swirled with other shades that his eyes reminded her of shining gemstones. There was a look of comfort in them, everything bad just faded away for awhile; however, under all that she saw the way he looked at her. He was looking at her with love, with tenderness and passion. It made her heart flutter even for a moment and something just clicked. They’d fool around before here and there, that was all in good fun and some heat of the moment but this, this was just different. It felt more different then the other times.

Griffin was quick to plant a tender kiss on her lips. It was soft and warm just the way she liked it. It’s slow yet hungry the way he kisses her. She equally matches him as she moved herself and was on top of him now, straddling him as his strong hands held her hips and his thumbs rubbed across her skin in a small circular motion that made her rock ever so slightly. Her hands laid firmly pressed against his chest and felt some of her own sun magick bubble to the surface and warmth spread against her palms. Griffin gave a soft moan and his hands pressed just a little bit tighter into her hips.

She broke the kiss to get som air. She felt her cheeks burn ever so slightly as she stared down at Griffin. A playful smile on that handsome face of his.

“Good as always, I hope?”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “Even better. It felt so… so…”

“Right?” His voice is soft as he slides his hands down from her hips to her thighs. His fingertips tracing once again patterns into her skin that made her tremble just a little. With a slight nod, griffin smiled even more as he gave her a gentle squeeze. He sat up a little more in bed as Sage moved down and had their hips pressed against one another. She looked at him again, catching that same look in his eyes that now looked more intense. His hands ran up and down her thighs slowly and would even go back up to her hips where his fingers played with the waistband of her underwear she still had on. A small smirk tugged at her lips.

“Are you sure?” Griffin tenderly asked her as he stopped moving his hands. “I don’t want to if you’re not ready.”

She gave a reassuring smile as she reached out and cupped the side of his face. “I am Griffin, tonight I just you. I just want us.”

They met again in a tender kiss. She had her hands slide up his toned chest and feel every part of it before sliding back down and removing his shirt and tossing it aside. His hands wasted no time sliding off her underwear and discarding it too. Sage rocked her hips against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She moaned softly in their kiss as her hands pulled down his pants and boxers and kicked them away as she went back to focusing solely on him and only him. His lips moved down to kiss her chest that sent a fire into her veins that cooled into a pleasure that left her moaning. She felt his muscles tense and flex with every move he made. His hips bucked slightly when she moved her hands down his sides and the way his lips moved to her neck where he sucked on it and left a nice hickey behind. He broke the kiss for a moment and stared up into her eyes as he wrapped her arms around his neck and her fingers ran through his tightly curled hair. She gave a small little tug that had his hips buck once more and he sharply gasped, she felt the room shift slightly and the chandelier swayed back and forth up above them.

“S-sorry…” Griffin breathed out and went to say more but she pressed her lips to his to silence him. His arms pulled them in closer and he let his head tilt back as Sage kissed down his neck and to his collarbones. Her arms still around his neck as she wanted to be close as possible to him. Both their hips rocking in a pleasurable rhythm. She kissed back up to his lips as she pants softly from their heated moment. His hands guide her lower on his hips, right to his cock where she felt it press up against her. A small gasp left her body and dots of light flashed in her vision. She pressed herself more into the heated kiss to deepen it. She parted her lips inches from his own as he desperately tried to sneak another one from her.

“G-Griffin!” Sage gasped as she bites her lip to stop a moan while laying her head in the crook of his neck. His arms give her a gentle squeeze as he supports her, his hands resting now on her lower back gingerly. He’s breathing heavy as well, there’s small trembles passing through him as his body tenses and eases with every hard breath.

“Shhh it’s okay I g-got you…I promise, do you want to take it slow?” His voice is low, husky even too, in her ear as he patiently waited her answer. “We can even stop too if you-”

“N-no… no I want you, I need you. J-just please, p-please take it slow.” Griffin lifted her chin up to meet his gaze as he tenderly kisses her lips once more. He shifted them around and laid her gently on her back, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows. His eyes roaming her body as he laced one of his hands with her own. He dipped down slowly kissing down her jawline and making his way to her neck. His hand squeezed hers every time she moaned even a little bit, his lips lingered a bit longer around her neck as he sucked on her collarbone and left another hickey to form where his lips had been. Sage shut her eyes as every kiss he left on her skin drove her more and more into a blissful state. She didn’t want to care about the nightmares, the soul crushing weight of what had happened weeks ago. Right now she was just wanting him and only him. She gasped loudly and clutched his hand tightly when she felt his lips graze her pelvic area, some flashes of light in her vision. His other hand slides down and rest on her thighs as she felt him inching closer between her legs. Her eyes fluttering open and looking down at him.

Griffin looked up to meet her gaze and taps his fingers lightly against her thigh, a way of asking if she was okay. She nodded, feeling like she was barely moving her head as it was swimming in a pleasurable haze. She watched him duck his head between her legs, both hands now moving to her hips as he lifts her up just slightly and plants his lips on her innermost part of her thighs and slowly kissing their way up. She groaned as her hands reached down and entangled her fingers up in his hair again, chest heaving with anticipation.

“G-god Griffin you’re… yo-youre so-oh!” She gasped as he finally started eating her out. Her back arching and fingers instantly curling and pulling at his hair. A loud moan leaving him as the room trembled and shakes, knocking over books on her shelf across the room. There was small sizzles and cracks as if lightbulbs were burning themselves out and breaking. His mouth works wonders on her with every kiss, every suck he gave only pushed him deeper. She hears him moaning her name whenever he pulls away for a moment to get some air. The pleasure wracks both their bodies as she feels his body tense up and shiver here and there.

She didn’t know how long they kept at this, maybe it had only been a few minutes but it felt like a lifetime. The pleasure washed over her wave after wave and Sage felt her magick welling up and about to spill over like a dam. Hell she was already wet between her legs unable to even hold herself together anymore. She bites hard on her lip as Griffin licked her slowly along and right up to her clit. God dammit it was like this boy was trying to push her over the edge. Their breathing was hard and heavy, every now and then she opens her eyes to catch a glimpse of him to see his chest heaving and body wracked with trembles as he tries to keep himself together. It’s causing the earthquakes to come in short burst here and there though they’re growing more powerful each time. She tugs at his hair, causing another loud moan to leave him and the room to shake even more. He lifted his head up as his eyes are filled with raw desire and passion as he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb before slowly licking it off never breaking eye contact with her.

Fuck, that was hot, Sage thought to herself.

“I want you.” It’s barely above a whisper, it’s breathy and shallow but it’s all she can manage. He didn’t waste anytime as he found his lips back on her neck and hips pressed against hers. His cock is hard and pressed right up against her as she moaned loudly. She feels him kiss up to her ear.

“You okay?” His voice is low and deep as he whispered in her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine. She gave a short nod as her arms slide around his shoulders and hold him closer to him. “I’ll take it slow, promise.”

“Just hold me-me please, and don’t let go,” she breathed out quickly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I love you.” His words are full of beautifully raw passion and love. Sage felt the words in her chest, as weird as that might sound, hearing that he loved her made everything just feel good, feel right. His arms wrapped around her and embrace her warm, smaller frame as he takes it slow just as he’s been promising. His hips rock in a slow moving rhythm as he’s taken to settling his head against the crook of her neck. Both their heated bodies pressed against each other as their rhythm matches one another. It’s slow and deep , not like the other times. Sage can feel her magick bubbling and waiting for the moment to finally be let go. She rest her head against his shoulder and his arms tightly wrap around her as if protecting and comforting her.

It happens without warning. There’s a long moan that leaves her as every part of her body just tenses up and release. The blinding light that’s even stronger and brighter than the last few times swims in her vision and she swears she’s seeing stars and hearing more of the cracking and sizzling sounds; hell even hearing a short gust of wind go past her ear and knocking things over. The magick that had been building up in her felt empty and drained now, all that remained was a few little drops of it here and there that tried to reach out but she was too week to grab hold. The light faded away from her vision and the heat of her body cooled down as she felt more at ease than she’s ever felt. Griffin still held onto her but he seemed just as wiped out and tired as she did.

They’re too tired to move, albeit just a little bit as they still remained entangled in each other’s arms. Griffin resting his head on her chest as he was fading in and out of sleep.

Sage planted a soft sweet kiss against his forehead. “I love you too.” It’s muttered tiredly but enough for him to hear, even in the darkness she sees him smiling as sleep finally overcame them.

…

The morning light peeking through the curtains gets Sage up the next morning. Sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes she’s greeted by Griffin still asleep beside her, an arm still around her and a destroyed bedroom. Books, papers and wall hangings are on the floor now. The once floating balls of light that were used by the chandelier lay on the floor broken and depleted of any light.

“Oh fuck…” Sage muttered as she pushed herself from her bed and fished around for some clothes, pulling on Griffin’s shirt and her underwear as she steps over the mess that was now her room. “Hope Shreya isn’t back yet maybe I’ll have time to clean.”

“What’s about cleaning?” Griffin’s sleepily voice came as he was steadily sitting up in bed rubbing his eyes. She turned back to him and carefully stepping over everything came up to him and lifted his chin up. His hands absentmindedly going to her waist.

“My dorm room, we made a mess of it last night. I need to clean.” Griffin gave a tired sound as he leaned forward and leaned against her stomach which gave a loud sound of hunger.

“After breakfast. Looks like you’re hungry and so am I.” Griffin looked up at her and smiled tenderly as he reached out and cupped the side of her face. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

She smiled back at him and leaned into his touch. “You remind me everyday. Now get dressed, it’s Saturday and I wanna have breakfast in my pjs with you.”

Griffin chuckled as he got up from bed and threw on his boxers and pants as Sage grabbed her shorts from last night and put them on. Opening the door they were greeted to their friends sitting around in the common room still in their pjs, looking like they had been waiting for them to wake up. Color flared into her cheeks as Griffin pressed his hand against her lower back. It was painfully obvious what had gone last night between the two. Shit she didn’t even brush her hair to make it look nice. The common room was a mess as well, pictures had been knocked off the walls and pillows had been tossed aside on the floor and even a side table knocked over. Everyone’s eyes were fixated on either them or the mess of a room behind them.

Atlas brought up to her cup of coffee to her lips and sipped it loudly before bringing it back down, a smirk twitching at her lips. “So… think we know what caused the earthquake last night.”