#she’s like why can’t you walk them instead of letting them in the yard

[golden-girl-daisy]

How do y’all deal with a neighbor that hates your dog? I’ve lived in a double for a few years and one of the newest people that moved in hates Honey with a passion. Honey barked once in the backyard this morning around six when someone she’s never met went into a neighboring backyard to smoke a cigarette. I brought her in as soon as she started barking but this new neighbor texted me vitriol about how she can never sleep because Honey barks occasionally and that I shouldn’t use our shared backyard (the reason I moved to this place). I’ve never had a single neighbor complain about her before and the most she barks is like three separate barks throughout the night but l can almost always get her back in and quiet before she barks twice in a row. Leia can’t sleep through the night without going out but this neighbor expects them not to go out at all between 10pm and 10am.

[salem-s]

STONEPIT FINALS AND SPRING CHAOS (18+) ── RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT

── SYNOPSIS rafe's been your best friend since forever, and you thought he'd be ecstatic to see you after a three week trip; however, you overhear him telling his friends that it's been nice without you clinging to him every five minutes. so that's what you give him: space. every attempt to get you back falls short, and rafe's confusion only augments when he sees you running with a different crowd. ── WARNINGS suggestive themes, language, half smut (??? everything's over the clothes, lowkey switch!rafe), swearing, angst and miscommunication but with a happy ending. 18+ mdni. ── WORD COUNT 16.9k... That's genuinely not okay... ── NOTES edited from third person perspective to second, so let me know if there are any mistakes. ── SONGS OF THE CHAPTER guilty pleasure by chappell roan | transparentsoul by willow | misery business by paramore. we're gonna pretend these are original songs by their band, alright?

“It’s been nice to have some peace and quiet without her constantly attached to my hip.”

You've been replaying his words in your head all night.

Sure, you invited herself over with the intent to surprise him after being gone for three weeks. Coming home a day earlier than expected was a set in stone plan all along, and thought nothing of walking into one of his renowned parties like you always have.

The familiar crowd greeted you like an old friend, throwing around heys and you’re back already? and all the other surprise lingo. You truly did your best to smile and nod to all of them, however these people weren't really your friends, instead mere acquaintances in an adjacent social circle.

The one person you really wanted to see was, undoubtedly, out back smoking a joint or nursing a beer away from the crowd with his two close friends, so you knew exactly where to find Rafe Cameron whenever his six foot something height wasn’t peaking above the crowd.

So on you walked: through the yard, in through the kitchen, and out towards the back porch. 

Along the way, you bumped into his younger sister, Wheezie, who greeted you with a genuine hug and sigh of relief that, finally, she’d be able to tolerate any social gatherings held at her house, as long as you were there.

You mostly (always) sought out refuge in Wheezie's room when you didn’t feel like entertaining these rich kid assholes, or whenever you were getting bored with whatever conversations you'd been dragged into just for the sole purpose of keeping him company.

Wheezie, too, knew exactly where Rafe was and even grabbed your hand to lead you to him. 

"It’s been nice to have some peace and quiet without her constantly attached to my hip. The clinginess has really been pissin’ me off. It's like she can’t do her own thing."

And of course, Wheezie heard it, too, gripping your hand tighter out of pity - or compassion - you couldn’t tell.

Before Wheezie could do anything, you slipped her hand away and took a step back. The young girl looked mortified at her brother’s words, her mouth gaping open and closed like a fish to attempt to defend his words or spin them to make them mean something different.

But you both knew her fruitless attempts wouldn't mean anything.

They were jarring, the words he spoke.

And, frankly, they really pissed you off.

You only stuck around his hip at these things because he always told you to beforehand, something about not wanting you to wander off into trouble (which you had a tendency to do), or because you always grounded him when he was overstimulated.

Rafe was the one who held you close at night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when he’d snuck in through the window after particularly rough fights with his father. He was the one who needed to hold you, to tether himself to someone, to something, just to make it through the night.

So why the fuck was he talking about your clinginess as he's the one who couldn't go one night without you? 

You scoffed when you heard it because, pfft, he must’ve been talking about someone else, surely. There’s no way he said that to his friends, and had the audacity to join in with their laughter.

Oh, it pissed you off.

Because if he really wanted space, sure, you could do that. No problem.

If there's one thing you prided yourself over, it was your dignity and stubbornness. You could give him space. You'll give him all the damn space and go find your own thing. 

Which is what you did later that night. 

Rafe had advised against it when the proposition was broached to you a couple weeks ago: a music gig.

Here's the sitch: you had a voice people would stop and listen to – not that you particularly liked boasting about it. It just came to you naturally, and you liked producing in the quaint privacy of your bedroom, mashing songs and creating unheard harmonies on audio software for fun.

You didn’t participate in the school plays or drama programs because, no, those were too on the nose and not the kind of music you'd like to sing (in front of people, anyway). Plus, all of the theater kids in the area are even more annoying than the preconception of the stereotype. Your voice was mainly barricaded inside the shower tiles or sitting pretty in the passenger seat of Rafe's car, or occasionally when you found yourself alone at the beach or on a walk in the dark. 

After a particularly grueling and obnoxiously abhorrent gala earlier in the summer, you found yourself separated from the party and wallowing with a stolen drink in the back alley of the country club. Rafe was off entertaining whatever girl he had his eyes on for the night and Wheezie wasn’t feeling well so she didn’t attend.

You were bored, tipsy, and feeling pathetically lonely. So, naturally, you started singing softly to yourself in the quiet solitude of the alley, thinking you were alone.

What you didn’t know was that the staff – a group of Pogues who needed a quick cash grab in the catering gig – were having their smoke break, and conveniently needed a new lead after their old one transferred schools to the mainland. They were friends with Sarah, Rafe's other sister, who you haven't been close to since you were kids.

You were weary of their proposition, the group not normally being the kind of people you'd hangout with due to them being intimidating, almost too cool, to where you thought you wouldn’t fit in.

Oh, but you did. You did well. 

Rafe's overly protective words echoed in your head as you instantly beelined for the door despite Wheezie's pleas, leaving his home and immediately driving to the Cut.

You were told where they practice, a quaint house on the far side of the island where they could riff and rehearse without a noise complaint. You found herself standing in the garage with the mock stage, with a rising sense of pride and retribution.

You told them, fuck it, you were in, that you'd do anything to take the spot that was so graciously offered to you all that time ago, to contribute to their band and to the competitions held in the rough part of the island. 

And in you were. 

Meanwhile, Rafe had never felt so fucking lost in his life. 

Not when he got into earth-shattering arguments with his dad about his spending habits, his overflowing temper, or anything he did under the sun (because anything he did seemed to piss his dad off).

Not when he’d spent those months of endless fighting in a hole of self pity, drowning himself in partying and occasional lines to numb the phantom ache in his heart.

Not when he’d lose girlfriend after girlfriend because he was incapable of doing what was expected of a boyfriend, not what was expected of Rafe himself. 

He was constantly told growing up that feelings were weak, and wearing them on your sleeve was even worse. Being sad was just an excuse to get a pass, to draw attention to get people to feel bad for you. Being sad meant being weak. Being emotional meant being weak. Caring too hard about things meant being weak. 

Normally, Rafe was able to move past these episodes because he always had you to seek solace in. But he lost you.

And he had no clue fucking why. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone breathing that he’d been counting down the days until you arrived back from your trip, not even his closest friends that he clung to in your absence.

Because Rafe had a reputation to uphold, and revealing such strong feelings for his best friend would definitely damage his stone cold apparatus. People would see his walls broken down for you and they would assume they were entitled to the same treatment. 

No. Rafe liked being unapproachable. Feared, even.

He liked that you clung to him at parties, at the stupid gala events their families would organize to flaunt their money in expensive garb and even more expensive donations that they announce with a bullhorn and neon sign. He liked that you clung to him because he asked you to.

He always asked you to.

And you always complied. 

Deep down, Rafe knew that you'd rather go off and stir up some trouble instead, or not attend all together and get into even deeper shit somewhere else, but that meant that you'd be away from him, not under his protective eye, and that always stirred up something ugly in him.

Rafe had to come rescue you one too many times, most times you didn’t even need to ask.

He was just there, waiting for you to be done with whatever you wanted to do, then he’d drive you home and (almost always) stay over.

You would tease him relentlessly, you and your smart mouth riling him up to tremendous heights. But he relished in it. He craved it. Because he’d rather you drag him every time you opened her mouth instead of what you were doing now, which was ignoring him. 

And the radio silence was killing him. 

Rafe was ecstatic the day you got home, waiting in your driveway to bring you to school like always. But after waiting for what felt like ages, he found himself on the doorstep yelling at you to hurry up.

Instead of being met with your pretty, Rafe had to hear it from your fucking mother that you had already left, that you got a ride from someone else. 

That was just strike one. 

Arriving at school with a rise in his temper, Rafe was already having a bad morning.

He was irritated. All week he’d been texting with you about how you both were gonna get coffee and catch up in the car before parting ways for classes. It didn’t help that he was nursing a minor hangover, and he felt even more like an idiot bringing in your coffee that he’d gotten for you anyway. 

Strike two was when Rafe saw you in the hallway, and the weight in his chest immediately lifted at the sight of you, glowing with a new gleam in your eye that had him yearning to know more about what you were up to.

The prior anger fizzled away the closer you got. You were walking straight to him as Rafe grinned and stuck out the coffee for you.

But as you got closer, Rafe's smile slowly faded as he noticed you were looking beyond him, brushing past him with that beautiful smile – the smile meant for someone else.

He spun around to see who you were ignoring him for, and scoffed when you were greeted with open arms to his sister and her friend group of wannabe rock Pogues that pissed Rafe off at any chance they could. 

Rafe was confused and irritated, and he didn’t want to be holding your coffee anymore, frankly. You fit in with them in a sick way that had him aching. 

Without thinking, he said your name quizzically with a slight edge to his tone.

A warning, almost. 

You had turned around, surprised to see him. He wasn’t sure if you were feigning naivety or just pretending you didn’t see him to piss him off. “Oh, hey.”

He felt stupid, all of a sudden, with all the eyes of your new friend group on him, Sarah even tilting her head at him quizzically.

Rafe held out the coffee. “Here. You ghosted this morning.”

“Sorry,” you smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. He hated the way it looked. You took the coffee. “Thanks.” Then you flicked your gaze over your shoulder, at them, and turned back offering him a curt nod. “I’ll catch up later.”

You spun on your heel and joined the group, walking away down the hall sparking an animated conversation as if he was just a bump in the road. 

And that’s how it started. 

You slowly fizzled Rafe out of your life.

You slowly stopped responding to his messages, stopped showing up to his parties, stopped everything in your life that involved him and, god, it broke his fucking heart.

Every time he stopped over, your parents would say that you were out with friends and he would scoff, not that they would care where you really were. Sometimes they’d say you were upstairs studying, and when they would let Rafe in to go see you, he’d be met with an empty bedroom and slightly ajar window.

Pathetically, he’d stay in your room because he was usually too embarrassed to go back downstairs and show his face to your parents. Sometimes he slept there in the spot he always slept in on nights where he just couldn’t fucking bear to go home. Sometimes he’d just climb out through the window and leave. 

Whenever he’d see you in school alone, Rafe would jump at the chance to talk to you.

You would entertain him for a walk to class or a quick chat in the library, nothing short of politeness. But Rafe didn’t want polite. He wanted you, and you wouldn’t fucking come back to him.

Instead, you would just give him the same tight lipped smile you gave all the other rich kid assholes that you hated, and then go about your day. 

God. Rafe needed you.

He needed a friend, a real friend. Someone he could trust unequivocally, without hesitation. Rafe needed to hold you, and that realization made him want to throttle something.

To be so dependent on you felt weak. It felt horrible, really, to have it suddenly stripped from him with no warning. But the longer he went without you, the more he realized he needed you to hold him. That epiphany had him pissed off more than ever.

Naturally, Rafe resorted to anger because if he didn’t, he would just wallow in sadness and that scared the shit out of him. 

But an opportunity blossoms – a real chance – to get you talking to him again, even if it’s just for one night. 

The annual fall donation gala is tonight, and Rafe knows that you won’t be able to get out of this one due to your mother’s incessant inclination to attend as a family, to uphold your image, whatever the hell that means.

Each season the wealthy families on the secluded part of the island gather in their overpriced suits and gowns, flaunt their money, spew some fake bullshit on how much they love charity and specifically how much money they were going to spend towards renovating the rougher parts of the island and the public institutions, all while they down their drinks and snort lines in the bathroom and plaster on fake smiles of grandiose.

Your family and the Camerons go together every season, being neighbors and all, pairing you off with Rafe while Wheezie and his other sister, Sarah, would stick with each other.

Sarah, being just a year younger than him, mostly always brought a random boy as a date. Wheezie often soloed, but would steal you for a better portion of the night. Rafe normally allowed it, but tonight he refuses to let his sister have the time of day.

No matter how much shit Wheezie gives him, he has to have you all night despite her premature protests, which will probably be a lot given the circumstances from the past few weeks. 

That's another thing as of late: Wheezie's been uncharacteristically cold to him, making him do ridiculous shit for her to get back on her good side, like taking her out to eat or reviewing her essay or watching a stupid show with her that he never would agree to watch in the first place.

Sure, he’ll set himself back a few pegs with Wheezie, but he has to get you back tonight. 

But of fucking course you just have to look that beautiful, so it takes Rafe a while to even say anything to you besides a pathetic hello. 

As tradition, you and Rafe lock arms as you enter the gala. He notices that you don't hold him as tight. 

You notice that he’s clenching his jaw so tight it might break, probably pissed that he has to be here in the first place. 

You loathe the idea of coming to this pathetic excuse of class performance, but public appearances are the only thing your parents are interested in.

They’ve been lenient about how much you leave to hang out with “Sarah” when in reality you're high tailing it to the rough side of the island getting up to all kinds of trouble (also with Sarah, but that's besides the point). However, they started to get suspicious of where you run off to every weekend, and god forbid they find out you sneak out basically every single night.

Things with the band are going great, too good to jeopardize.

So you figure if going to this gala will satisfy your parents’ consciousness and keep their noses out of your business, then you'll be able to deliver with elegant poise and limited back talk.

It doesn’t help that you and your band have a gig later tonight. The gig. The Stonepit finals. It also doesn’t help that you're stuck here.

But you have a plan.

Since you're here, your bandmates take on the event's catering gig so you'll all leave together an hour before the gala is supposed to end.

It’s slightly embarrassing to be walking arm-in-arm with Rafe under their knowing stares, especially since they have a vague idea of what really went down between you and the Kook prince.

They’re familiar with the island royal because of Sarah anyway, and despite not entirely liking him due to Rafe's douchebag tendencies, they’re sympathetic to you for choosing to step away from someone you once called your best friend.

Your friends, your new friends, care for you and know the hurt that came with ending things with Rafe, even if you never explicitly cried or showed any ounce of emotion when it came to him. They can just tell. And it reflects in the music, much to your dismay. 

And sitting next to him all night doesn’t help.

You're polite, saying your please and thank yous. Rafe is quiet, especially with his dad sitting on the other side of him.

One thing you both unintentionally agree on, though, is the synchronized stifled laughter on the faux-emotional speeches the PTO housewives make about the charity of their choice. Rafe and you know of the falsehoods that run through this community, that it’s all a stunt for public decency, and you always bet each year how many times they shed crocodile tears before dinner’s served. 

The last ripple of applause begins to die down after the last housewife steps down from the microphone, her lip curled up from a previous sob reforming back to a nonchalant tight lip as soon as she’s out of the spotlight. You push food around your plate with your fork, stifling a cold laugh that will undoubtedly earn a scolding from your mother. 

“I counted seven,” you say softly, indulging. 

It surprises Rafe. Immensely. His brows raise at the jab and he looks over to see if you were talking to yourself or actually to him, to see you staring at him in anticipation for his response.

Rafe's heart does a weird thump. “One of the better years, for sure.”

You laugh quietly and Rafe nearly sighs at the sound. 

Noticing a few older couples heading to the dance floor, Rafe bites the bullet, clearing his throat to get your attention as he holds his hand out. 

“Dance?”

You dart your gaze between his hand, his eyes, and the dance floor, uncertain. This makes Rafe's heart thump even wilder, and he’s certain you can hear it through his all-too-expensive suit jacket. He notices your apprehension, and he pushes down the hurt that springs to his throat. 

Despite it, he chuckles nervously. “It doesn’t have to…mean anything. Just to get away from this.”

Rafe gestures towards their table, their parents having a little too much to drink and starting to ramble on about shit they don’t care about. Sarah’s off with her boyfriend, John B., who should be working but doesn't look the slightest bit concerned about slacking off, while Wheezie talks to one of her friends off to the side, rueing the day in pre-teen style.

As much as you want to say no and stay cordial to your dignity, you're starting to get a headache from your mother’s high-pitched laughter and dad’s intolerable business talk, so, reluctantly, you accept and takes his hand.

It takes everything in Rafe to not visibly sigh in relief as he leads you to the dance floor. Your friend, JJ, smirks behind the seafood buffet table, watching them. You throw him an eye roll that Rafe doesn’t see, to which JJ just shrugs and winks. 

Slinking your hands around his neck, your heart skips a beat at the close proximity. Rafe's hands settle on your waist.

It draws in a sense of comfort, of familiarity that he’s been yearning for all this time without you. He takes a deep breath, embarrassingly deep, because for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he can finally breathe again despite the intoxication of your perfume and the stench of cigarettes wafting from the balcony. 

Rafe takes the time to study you up close.

You cut your hair in a more edgy way, drastically different from your previous untouched hair that he was used to twirling between his fingers under Egyptian cotton sheets. It’s different, but he likes it. You looks comfortable, like yourself. He also notices the excessive added jewelry that you've been wearing lately.

Although Rafe frowns after his inspection, noticing it’s none of the jewelry that he’s given you over the years. Your makeup is clean, effortless. 

Beautiful, he thinks. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t realize you say something until you pinch his neck. 

“Hm?”

“I asked if you were okay. You were brooding,” you tease quietly.

It feels like old times again. “I don’t…brood,” he attempts to defend. 

You snort. “Sure.”

And that’s that. 

Rafe doesn’t really know what to add from that, nor where to start on what he really wants to talk about with you.

It takes everything in him to not scream in frustration. He’s not good with his words, he doesn’t know how to vocalize the sensitivity that he feels in fear of being perceived as weak. He’s only good at physically projecting his anger, his irritation, his emotions that make him feel strong or, more so, his actions that make people fear him and submit to what he wants.

It’s easier that way, to not have to use words to convey what he wants done and what he needs people to do. 

But not with you, never with you. 

“I…” he starts lowly, trying to calculate his thoughts but they’re just a whirlwind in his mind right now. “How have you been?”

Rafe cringes at himself. 

You frown, moving forward with caution at his uneasiness. The classical band plays something slow and melodic and so fucking romantic that it makes you want to throw up. “Good. Really good, actually. Been busy.”

“With?” Rafe attempts.

“With…stuff.”

He swallows. Of course you won’t tell him, why would you?

“How about you?” you ask timidly, noticing his sunken expression. “Are you okay?”

Rafe hesitates.

No, he’s been at his lowest. He’s been losing his mind without you at his side to anchor him to his real self. He’s been lost trying to figure out what you've been up to, why you've been running and hiding from him ever since you got back from your trip all those weeks ago. He’s especially lost in trying to figure out why you've been running with his sister and her annoyingly arrogant Pogue friends. 

Rafe assumes you tell them all your tidbits now, like what you did that day or what show you're watching, talking to them how you used to talk to him.

It makes him sick. He feels like a fucking idiot trying to figure out what he did wrong, always coming up blank on answers but never having the courage to just ask you what the hell happened that rendered such coldness from you. 

“Yeah. Been okay,” he settles on. 

Despite the strain on his voice, you manage to smile at him, but there’s an ounce of worry in your expression that throws him off.

He’s confused: do you still care about him? Is that still on the table? Are you really going to dance around the elephant in the room? Are you going to keep acting like nothing is wrong? Are you ever going to tell him what he did?

“It’s a busy time of year, I wouldn’t-” you start nonchalantly, but Rafe suddenly scoffs at your attempt to small talk with him. This earns a pointed glare. “Is something wrong?”

Rafe scoffs again. “Of course something’s wrong." No going back now. "Everything’s fucking wrong. We’re standing here making useless bullshit small talk as if you haven’t been ignoring me for weeks.”

Curse him and his temper, he wants to immediately apologize for his tone. But you frown even further and loosen your grip around his neck but Rafe tightens his.

“No. We're talking about this. Stop running for a second.”

“Running?” you hiss. “I’m not…I haven’t been-”

“Yes, you have,” Rafe says, trying to stay even but his voice betrays him as it shakes. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I’m losing my mind because you won’t talk to me, shit, you won’t even look at me anymore.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. “I just…need to know.”

Your frown turns into a thin lipped line. Isn’t this what he wanted? Space? 

Your mind is reeling. On one hand, you're pissed.

How dare he act ignorant to the fact that he was bitching and moaning for some peace and quiet to his friends, how desperate he was to have some space from your oh-so-overwhelming clinginess, how you couldn’t even do your own thing due to how much you depended on him for everything: friends, a social life, style, a personality. Like, what the fuck?

But on the other hand, you sees Rafe. Your Rafe.

The Rafe who climbs through your bedroom window in tears from his father’s vocal bullets, searching for solace and warmth that he simply can’t get in the comfort of his own home. The Rafe who rarely knows how to express himself in anything other than rage because that’s how he was taught to deal with his emotions: through instilling fear. The Rafe who would truly do anything for you if you asked nicely. The Rafe who, behind closed doors, is kind, loving, and sweet when he cares, like getting you your favorite ice cream after you failed your exam or staying up until sunrise with Wheezie finishing the show she’s been raving about.

You sees Rafe, a boy who needs answers. 

“Please.”

His tone of desperation pulls you from your thoughts, a tone he only saves for late night confessions under starlight, just for you. 

You can’t help but teeter between the two hands. 

“Rafe,” you start carefully, “I came home a day early from my trip.”

He frowns. The music is too slow, too beautiful. He’s confused. “You did?”

You nod. “Yes. I wanted to surprise you.”

The gesture is so fucking sweet that it makes Rafe melt in agony. What did he ever do to deserve your love and friendship for as long as he had it?

“I walked around looking for you, and assumed you were in the back with Top and Kelce. You were, but I heard what you said. All of it.”

Rafe reels back in confusion.

What?

What are you talking about?

You notice his confusion and scoffs lightly, the sound heavy with hurt instead of bitterness. “Of course you don’t remember.” You take a breath, replaying the words that have been on repeat in the back of your mind for weeks. “‘It’s been nice to have some peace and quiet without her constantly attached to my hip. The clinginess has really been pissing me off. It's like she can’t do her own thing.’ You don’t remember saying that?”

What?

Rafe's mind is spinning because. What. 

“I…” he starts, but then stops, piecing it together. No, he couldn’t have. 

But you nod, confirming it. “I heard it. So did Wheeze. I didn’t want to make a scene and just figured it would be easier to give you what you wanted. So I backed off. Gave you your space. Found my own footing.”

Rafe stares at you in disbelief. The words come back to him, each one hitting him harder than the last. 

“It’s okay,” you say before Rafe can get a word in, noticing his internal conflict.

He hates the small, understanding smile you're wearing. You should be hitting him or cussing him out.

Instead you're fucking smiling at him, even though it's laced with sadness, it's still a smile. “I’ve…come to terms with it. I just wish you told me I was being too clingy instead of complaining to your friends about it. I would’ve backed off if you asked.” 

Rafe shakes his head, because of course you would do something if he asked you to without any hesitation.

He can’t believe it, how you heard him say something so horrible (and completely untrue) and aren't cursing him out or going around telling people his deepest darkest secrets and demons. He deserves worse. He deserves nothing good after making you feel so unwanted, like you had to completely remove yourself from his life in order to give him what he – seemingly – wanted. 

Rafe can only say your name.

“Really, Rafe,” you say after he can’t form the words he wants, “it’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not,” Rafe snaps, chest heaving. “It’s not fucking… I didn’t mean it.” 

Okay. Now you scoff and he frowns.

You're not gonna sit here and listen to him spew out excuses, bullshit excuses, so he can get back on your good side. You're not gonna forget how those words made you feel. If there's one thing bigger than your ability to hold a grudge, it's the need to defend your dignity.

“If you didn’t mean it, then you wouldn’t have said them – fuck – you wouldn’t have thought them in the first place.” You try to loosen your grip once more to escape but he holds you tighter. You huff. “Rafe, let go. Seriously. I said it was fine. Let me go.”

It isn’t fine, you both know that, but you personally don't want to entertain his fragment words.

But Rafe can’t let you go. Not like this. 

“No, I need to– fuck…” Rafe curses.

Why can’t he just say he’s sorry? Own up to it? Push his pride down? No, because that would mean admitting defeat. That would mean admitting something he’s tried to push down for years and years in fear of ruining your friendship. 

Well, he’s already ruined it, so what’s left to lose? 

You, he realizes. He’s losing you, and he’ll lose you forever if he doesn’t get his shit together at this given moment. 

His chest is heaving, he realizes.

His heart feels like it’s in his throat and he’s gripping you as if you're going to disappear if he lets go. Rafe doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that the world keeps spinning around them. Couples keep slow dancing, people keep laughing and drinking, the song still plays. No one knows what’s going on within your bubble right now, the emotional turmoil sizzling between you both speaking in hushed breaths. 

“I’m sorry,” he says low and heavy with emotion.

You take that as irritation. “You’re sorry you got caught.”

Rafe shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “No. No. I’m sorry for saying that stupid shit. I didn’t mean it, Snips. Not really.”

The nickname makes your heart leap to your throat, but you swallow it. “Not really?”

Rafe curses. “No, I…fuck-”

“You what? What, Rafe?”

“I–”

“Wanted to impress your friends?”

He grimaces. “No–”

“Needed to brag about how I’m always at your beck and call? Your bitch waiting at your disposal?”

“No!”

You laugh humorlessly. “Then what-?”

“Because I need you more than you need me, and it scares the shit out of me.”

You freeze, your next retort dying in your throat as you look at Rafe's desperate expression.

His eyes bore into yours, those piercing bright blues, and you don't notice until now that his hands have been shaking, his chest is falling up and down rapidly, how the crease in his brow is more prominent than ever. You study him, looking for any signs of duplicitousness but coming up short.

Instead you see how broken he really is. 

Rafe notices your pity and hates the expression, so he shuts his eyes. “I…I think I said it to pretend it was the other way around. That…maybe if I said it and put it in words, I could pretend that you needed me in the same way. I hated the way I felt for those three weeks without you, and it scared the shit out of me.”

Silence. 

Your hand travels from the back of his neck to caress his cheek, which makes him open his eyes to meet your gaze. 

“It doesn’t make it okay,” he quickly adds. “What I said wasn’t okay. At all. I hate that you heard it.”

Rafe leans into your touch instinctively, your palm boring into his cheek. His heart thumps for a different reason now, for your silence. He doesn’t know what to make of it. The tension is thick and he hates the way you don't say anything.

Something foreign pricks in his chest, an unsteady murmur.

“Please, say something,” he pleads pathetically, feeling stupid at the desperation. 

You feel flustered from his words, speechless.

Your heart lurches in your throat at the confession that probably ached in his soul all these weeks, that gnawed at him every time you brushed him off or ignored his messages and did exactly what he was afraid of: leave.

What Rafe said was wrong, very wrong, you know. There’s no if, ands, or buts about it.

Your heart sinks, though, at the thought of him pushing down his feelings, his real feelings, so deep to the point where he was drowning in his own mind. This is the boy you grew up with, who held you when you were upset, who knew your every thought before you could formulate it, who begrudgingly took you to prom after your date stood you up.

Your Rafe, sharing something so raw and scary. 

You hold him with such lightness, such care, murmuring quietly, “Rafe–”

Suddenly, a throat clears next to you.

Rafe's anger flares back up when he sees fucking JJ Maybank looking at you, feeling tidal waves of stupidity and irritation that he confessed something so raw to you. He wants to rip you away from this crowd, from JJ, to talk somewhere in private, to even sit in silence if it means he can hold onto you like this for a little while longer.

Call him selfish. 

“Sorry to…interrupt,” JJ says, darting his gaze between the two of you, finally settling on you after a moment of taking in…whatever was happening here. “We gotta go. Now. Rumlow pushed our slot up.”

Your hand falls from Rafe's cheek and he gets even more irritated. What business does JJ Maybank have with you? Who the fuck is Rumlow?

You step away from Rafe and, this time, he lets you. “What? You’re kidding.” You groan and curse, “The whole deal about winning Greengate was that we’d get first pick of the Stonepit slot.”

JJ huffs. “Freddie slid him a fifty to make sure we go right after his band, so second to last.”

Band? Rafe furrows his brows. 

His confusion is put on the back burner as you ball your fists tight at your side. “Damn it.” Then, you take a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go out the back.”

JJ glances at Rafe wearily, whose stare couldn’t be more piercing. “Uh, what about your stuff?”

“It’s at the table. My mom will definitely ask too many questions.”

“Blame the period?”

You snort. “You still clearly know nothing about women. Not believable. Best chance is to just slip out. I’ll deal with my mom later.” 

JJ moves to leave, walking a few steps away until he notices you aren't following. You hesitate, looking up at Rafe who has been awfully quiet and confused, watching your conversation happen in front of him. His blue eyes bore into yours, a twinge of pain hidden within his features that makes your heart lurch.

You have the sudden inclination to grab his hand, to comfort him for a moment more. 

Silence. 

Clearing his throat once more, JJ rubs his forehead at the tension between the two. “Uh, I’ll give you guys a minute.” He shoots Rafe a warning glare, one that makes Rafe narrow his eyes, before turning his attention back to you. “Meet us out back when you’re done.”

And like that, JJ walks off the dance floor and disappears through the staff doorway.

His absence is felt, the air thick between you and Rafe as unspoken words yearn to come into fruition. The slow, romantic melody continues to play as couples sway around you and the emotion behind it makes your tummy feel weird. 

“You’re leaving?” Rafe manages to ask thickly, the words feeling like lead in his throat. "With...Maybank?"

You look up at him once more, and this time, you actually do grab his hand.

He gazes down at your intertwined fingers as your other hand comes up to graze his knuckles, fingertips smoothing over his rough, calloused skin in such a delicate manner it allows him to breathe for a moment. Your cool rings feel like ice against his hot skin, and he nearly flinches from the contrasting feeling. 

Your next words are cautious and slow. “You’re truly sorry?”

“Yes,” he immediately answers. “More than you’ll ever know. More than I’ll ever be able to say.” Rafe squeezes your hand. “Let me make it up to you. Please.”

You meet his gaze.

His pretty blues no longer glisten with sadness, but instead hold their own. Promising. Genuine. Home. You find herself suppressing a smile because, fuck, you missed him more than you'd like to admit. 

Glancing back towards the family’s table, you notice your parents are still talking to Rafe's, the waiter coming over to top off their drinks as they obnoxiously laugh over something that probably wasn’t very funny. Nevertheless, they’re distracted for the night and clearly not caring about the whereabouts of their children. 

An idea - a really stupid idea - pops into your head when you turns back to Rafe, a newfound determination gleaming in your eye that he only knows as trouble. 

“Come with me.”

Rafe's lips part in confusion. “You want me to?” Then, more uncertain. "With...them?"

Pushing down the impending fight night that'll probably happen between him and the Pogues, you quirk a brow as you teasingly squeeze his hand.

“Thought you wanted to make it up to me.”

“‘F course.”

“Then let’s get into some trouble.”

He finds himself narrowing his gaze, but there’s no real strictness behind it as he tries to suppress a smile. “Snips, what are you getting me into?”

You tilt your head to the side and bite the inside of your cheek, taking one last glance at your parents – more occupied than ever – before you start pulling Rafe off the dance floor, dragging him through the crowd and through the same staff door that JJ disappeared into earlier.

You don't let go of his hand as you swerve past the catering staff and waiters, beelining for the backdoor leading to the alley. 

Noses scrunch at the smell, reeking of garbage, cigarettes, and gas. It’s not the worst thing out there, no, because Rafe tries his best not to grimace when he sees your new group of friends, the Pogues he oh-so despises, hanging by their clown minivan as they all change out of their catering uniform into their own clothes, their performance clothes, just shamelessly half naked and laughing as if it isn’t ridiculously intimate. 

Sarah is slipping her ripped jeans on under her dress and shimmying on a tank, a cigarette poking through her plump lips. Kiara is applying lip liner in mirror, perched in the passenger seat. John B. finishes buckling his belt, taking the cigarette out of Sarah's mouth to take his own hit. Pope is sitting in the driver’s seat, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel and checking the time on his watch anxiously. JJ's putting on a shirt when he sees you and Rafe emerge, hand in hand. 

“Country Club, you comin’ with?” JJ teases as he throws his ratty t-shirt on, wearing a smirk that Rafe wants to smack off his stupid face. 

You speak before Rafe can start an argument. “Guys, Rafe's gonna tag along tonight. Any issues?”

Everyone stops what they’re doing to stare between you and Rafe, and he squirms under their judgemental stare. He knows he hasn’t been the nicest to them, and vice versa, as their social circles often clashed with ferocity. He also knows that they’re aware of the previous animosity with you based on the way the girls, Kiara and his own damn sister, are glaring at him with such a deep warning that it makes him shiver. 

It’s Pope who breaks the silence. “I don’t give a fuck if he shits gold. We need to go now if we want to warm up.”

JJ snorts. “We’d be lucky to make curtain call.”

“Have some hope, Jay,” Kiara mumbles to not mess up her lipliner. “Pessimism gives you crows feet.”

Sarah hums low as she steals the cigarette back from John B., who looks Rafe up and down. The two of them have had their fair share of qualms. Rafe truly can't keep track of how many times he's gotten a black eye from his sister's boyfriend, and vice versa.

But, no, he can't be getting into fights tonight. Not while he's on your probation.

Pope groans and rolls his eyes. “Crows can’t drive. Now, can we please all get in the car before that shitbag gives our slot away?”

It's muscle memory when Rafe lunches forward to snatch the cigarette from Sarah's mouth, throwing out the cigarette butt onto the concrete with a narrow gaze. She sends him an eye roll, but wordlessly climbs into the minivan with John B. behind her, and to Rafe's surprise, all of the back seats are folded down so they all sit in a circle in the trunk.

His mind races at the hazardous set up.

You notice his concern as you sit down next to him, stifling a laugh and squeezing his hand once out of comfort, pulling it back before Rafe can even process what is happening. 

“We throw all the instruments back here, so the seats stay down,” you say softly, just to him. Rafe straightens up a little, feeling a sense of pride that you're only talking to him. “You get used to it after a while.”

But that beaming pride doesn’t last long as JJ sits on the other side of you, a little too close for his liking, smirking at the two of you.

Rafe bites his tongue as the blond grins toothily at him. “Don’t worry, Country Club. You can hold my hand if you get scared,” JJ teases, wiggling his fingers at him. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and fights the urge to jump him right here and now. The only thing pulling him back to reality is the sound of your laughter.

“Fuck off, Maybank,” is all he manages to pathetically muster up in response. 

Pope drives sporadically, ranting about how they’re not gonna make it now that their slot is moved up, how the lights are never green when he needs them to be, how John B. didn’t fill up the gas tank since he was the last one to drive, and so many more complaints that Rafe loses count.

In the back circle, however, they’re talking business and spewing vocabulary Rafe's never even heard of.

John B. is going on about JJ needing to remember to wait a beat before the chorus on their first song, and how Kiara needs to be a second step harmony above you, not just one, and how he himself wants to remember one specific rhythm in a riff he’s been practicing.

Rafe feels a little outdated due to his outright confusion, feeling like he’s at a tennis match just watching them pull out notes back and forth and back and forth. 

It isn’t until Sarah tosses you a bag where Rafe truly short circuits.

Your confusion is apparent when you hold up the bag, raising a pointed brow.

Sarah gestures to the bag. “Change. You won’t have time when we get there. I put in some cute earrings for you.”

Such a Plan A girl, you think, smiling at her as you open the bag: a sultry tank top, black mini skirt, and your mile high boots that you know and love. At the bottom there’s a little baggie full of jewelry.

“Thanks, Sare.” You shuffle to slip your heels off, nudging Rafe's shoulder on accident as you do so. 

He nearly winces when you take the black mini skirt and starts to roll it on under your long, expensive dress, catching a glimpse of your dainty underwear. Next, you let the shoulder straps slip down your goosebump covered arms.

Then, with complete fucking nonchalance, you turn your back to Rafe, cheekily looking over your shoulder at him.

“Zip?”

Rafe stares wide-eyed back at you, his gaze flicking between your dress zipper and your smug expression.

His heart races in his ribcage at the thought of you changing in front of all of these people with no question. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but the fact that you're ready to completely undress in the back of this dingy van has his head spinning. 

JJ snorts, bringing him back down to Earth. “She asked you a question, Country Club. Angel, want me to do it?”

That snaps Rafe out of his trance. His nimble fingers immediately go to the zipper, delicately pulling it down. “Don’t play around, Maybank.”

“CC, you’re my favorite person to play around with.”

“Watch it.”

You roll your eyes at the two. “Alright, brats, let’s simmer. Now, I was thinking–”

Rafe tunes out the rest of what you say when you let your dress slip down off your shoulders, exposing a strapless bra barely fucking covering anything as your long dress pools down on the dirty van floor. Continuing to yap about whatever notes you have, you grab the sultry tank top from the bag and pull it over your head, not breaking your thought process while Rafe's thoughts have been completely broken to begin with.

He coughs quietly to himself to get his shit together, especially when you unapologetically adjust your bra and tank top to how you want it. 

Now dressed, you shift again to sit back down on your ass, brushing Rafe's shoulder once more.

But Pope takes a wild turn, everyone shifting from the force of it. John B. smacks his head on the window as Sarah plummets into him, JJ holds his own as he grabs onto the door handlebar, and you fly into Rafe's lap, his hands instinctively thrown up to catch you, or at least attempt to, as you scramble to get up. 

“Fuck, sorry,” you murmur, placing a hand on his thigh to push yourself up. “You good?”

But JJ's laugh interrupts. “Oh, he’s great.” He holds his fingers up to wiggle at Rafe again, wearing a shit eating grin that, pathetically, turns the tips of Rafe's ears pink. 

He ignores it. “You wanna see great?”

You sit back down on the floor in your original spot, sliding on your socks and boots. “Boys, play nice. You’ll have to get used to each other at some point because you’re both not going anywhere.”

Kiara pipes up from the front seat. “Maybe we can lock them in a closet together. That’s what John B. and Sarah do whenever they fight.” 

“Usually we end up fucking instead of actually making up, but, who knows? That could probably work for you guys, too,” John B. chides, earning a slap to the chest from Sarah.

Rafe rolls his eyes so hard it kickstarts a migraine. 

He feels your hand brushing his thigh as you laugh and, despite his rising temper, it manages to relax Rafe just a fraction. Especially when you lean more into his arm. Christ, your perfume scent is the only thing he can think about. 

Then, Pope makes a screeching halt and everyone is thrown around once more. Before you can fly across the van into Sarah, Rafe grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him.

Everyone waits a beat, then two, then sigh in relief when they realize the van isn’t going to be moving anymore. 

Pope turns around with a giant grin. “We’re here, andiamo!”

Everyone blankly stares at him, hair askew and clothes out of place. He frowns at the crowd. 

“What? At least I got us here with ten minutes to spare!”

It only takes one minute for shit to hit the fan. 

It’s already unnerving enough for Rafe to realize where they are: in a dingy basement nightclub in the shitty part of the Cut where he normally wouldn’t even think about coming to.

A slice of anger rises in his throat, to cuss you (and Sarah) out for being so reckless if this is where you've been spending all of your time, in a place that doesn’t feel safe to him in a part of town that isn’t meant for girls like you.

He hates thinking like that, knowing damn well you're capable of protecting yourself – Henry Kennedy's permanently crooked nose can attest to that – but there’s a sliver of primitive instinct in him that wants to constantly protect you, shield you from everything and everyone. If he ever found out something happened to you in a place like this, there's no question that he'd burn it to the ground.

Rafe's hand ghosts over the small of your back when they enter the venue, which earns a finger wiggle from JJ, teasing him. Thank god you don't see it, or Rafe would’ve really had to punch the fucker in the face. 

But the play time’s over when the group watches the slot before them get on stage, the Pogues (including you) collectively booing them and flipping them off. Rafe looks around to see if anyone’s pissed at the Pogues for, once again, creating a public disturbance, but they just sort of let it happen.  

You nudge Rafe, nodding to the lead singer who all but gropes the microphone. “That’s Freddie.”

Rafe studies Freddie: tiny, skinny, shaggy hair and a crooked smile that’s directed right to you. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he immediately straightens up protectively, sizing the scrawny guy up and down, narrowing his fixated gaze as Freddie grabs the mic and introduces their band with a deeper voice than Rafe expected to come out of him. 

“You know,” JJ nudges Rafe as if they’re best buds and he darts his gaze from the spot JJ nudged back up to the blond boy to try and find the audacity in the space between, “Angel here beat him up once. It was one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen in my life. I won ten bucks out of it.”

Rafe quizzically looks between JJ and you, stunned. 

JJ laughs. “What? You didn’t think his teeth are naturally that fucked up, did you?”

But his attention leaves the nuisance and solely focuses on you. Rafe snorts, suppressing a beaming grin. “Snips, how hard did you hit the guy?”

“What?” You feign innocence, shrugging as if the thought of it doesn't make Rafe's head spin. “I hit him as hard as he deserved. He did touch my ass.”

Rafe stills. 

“He what?”

“Easy, Rafey. I took care of it,” you joke. Then you notice the stone cold glare in Rafe's eye as he sizes Freddie up and down, suddenly frowning and grabbing his hand to pull him out of the trance. “Rafe. Jesus. Don’t actually kill the guy.”

JJ's cackle just pisses Rafe off even more, especially when he claps a big, audacious hand on Rafe's tense shoulder. “You know, I wasn’t sure what part Country Club would play in our show tonight. But I think we just found our new bodyguard.”

You squeezes Rafe's hand once. Twice. He relaxes his shoulders, shrugging JJ off but still keeping his hold on you. 

The glue of the group, Pope, claps his hands together. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck about Freddie’s set. Before I get up there and strangle Rumlow myself for being shady, let’s go backstage to–”

All of a sudden, Freddie's band starts playing their set, and the first few notes cause the group to freeze, including you.

“Are they–?” John B. starts in disbelief.

Sarah gasps so dramatically it gives Rafe whiplash. 

Pope grips his hair so hard it might rip out. “I knew it. I knew something was up. Those cock sucking, donkey bastard motherfuck–” 

John B. slams his hand against the wall, cursing. Sarah tilts her head back in frustration. JJ and Kiara attempt to wrangle Pope from jumping on stage from throttling the lead singer. Each Pogue crashes out unexpectedly, though their actions and waterfall curses are drowned out by the amplified music. No one even bats an eye.

Rafe glances from the scene happening with your friends, to the stage, and down to you, brows furrowing in confusion as to why everyone suddenly started crashing out as soon as they stepped in the building, the band on stage playing a song he vaguely recognizes. 

“Uh, what’s going on?”

You watch the stage, unnerved. “They stole our set.”

Rafe follows your gaze beyond the stage, to a burly guy standing behind the curtain, shrugging at you mockingly in a way that makes Rafe straighten up and fight the urge to pull you to his hip.

“What?”

“Our songs. Fuck.” You curl your hands in a fist. “Of course Freddie paid for us to get bumped. He knew our setlist, and paid Rumlow to bump us so we wouldn’t have time to figure something else out.”

Rafe places a cautious hand on your shoulder, testing to see if you'll shake him off. You don't, so he keeps it there and gives a gentle squeeze. “Why would he…do that?”

“Because he’s an asshole, Country Club,” JJ jabs, walking into their conversation with a struggling Pope under his bicep in a headlock. “He knew we’d beat him so he fucked us over.”

John B. joins the circle, clenching and unclenching his fists. “What’s our play?”

“Kill Freddie with a gun,” Pope quips from his headlock, trying to break free but failing. 

Kiara places a hand on Pope's head and Sarah follows, as if they’re trying to summon something. “Use that brain of yours. Think about something other than murdering Freddie for one second.”

It’s JJ who speaks up. “What about using the same set from Greengate?”

“We can’t reuse those songs, Jay,” Kiara murmurs, lost in thought. “We’d get points off.”

“What about ‘I’d Rather Die’?” Sarah suggests, rubbing Pope's head like a crystal ball. 

Kiara's face upticks in disgust. “That song is way too outdated. The ratio between boys and girls is too drastic, we need more girls here for that song to hit.”

“Pink Floyd?” John B. suggests. “Or even Zeppelin. Something to get people on their feet.”

Rafe watches the group like a tennis match, gaze shifting from person to person as they spew out ideas that ultimately get rejected due to some reasonable excuse. He can feel their anxiety radiating off of them, bubbling in the air between them. He hates the way your brow is permanently furrowed, lost in thought yet pinched a fraction in worry.

Sure, he has no idea what’s going on, nor can he really offer any help, but he hates the dejected look on your face. 

Before he can speak and embarrass himself, Pope squeaks from underneath JJ's arm. 

“What about our originals?”

The group ceases their arguing, freezing as the only sound heard is Freddie’s not-so-bad singing voice, singing their songs. They gawk at each other, waiting for someone to bring up a counter argument but no one offers one.

Noticing the contemplation, Pope wiggles to free himself from the headlock and JJ eventually lets him, joining the circle and stretching his neck from the kinks. He shoots JJ a glare that has him throwing his hands up in surrender. 

“It could work,” Pope defends cautiously. “I have the hard drive with all the backing vocals on it. We’ll still have Sarah, Kie, and JJ on backup vocals, but I can relay Angel's adlibs and prerecorded harmonies during the performance.”

Pope's the tech guy, Rafe realizes. The guy behind the curtain, and it suddenly makes so much sense why his anxiety was severely heightened on the drive here: he has to manage the sound check, the back tracks, the entire performance. Despite the guy being a little crazy, Rafe can’t help but nod in respect despite the tense moment. The group is right to elect him as the brains of the group. 

You speak up so quietly Rafe barely hears you. “We’ve never shown anyone our originals.”

Nerves prick at your voice, straining it.

It doesn’t take an idiot to notice your apprehension, even Rafe, who has no idea what’s happening. You don't even want to look at him, at the concerned look you know he’s wearing.

There’s a lot of fear surrounding the originals, mainly because they’re your originals that you wrote sporadically in journals over the last few months, never expecting the words to actually see the light of day. Recording and creating their own originals was more of a passion project, something never meant for the general public to hear.

Especially when the words on the page were mainly about the guy standing next to you. 

What if they’re not as good as your friends say they are? What if the recordings don’t match up with the live audio? What if the judges and crowd hate it, ruining their chances of winning the competition and getting the money? 

Kiara is the first to move towards you, gripping your hand so tight it hurts. “We should. We all worked really hard on them.”

“Kie’s right,” Sarah pipes up. “Plus, it kind of gives us an advantage. Shows people we actually give a shit, and we’ll surprise them.” She leans against John B., who wraps an arm around her and holds tightly. 

Pope holds his arms out in a well? gesture. 

JJ beams, latching one hand onto Rafe's shoulder and the other on John B's, shaking them as he whoops.

Rafe almost shoves him off with his death glare alone, annoyed with his assumed immunity since you'd break up any sort of fighting that could happen. Plus, he's really trying to be on your good side, to get back in your good graces, even if this blond fuck is making it really, really difficult not to drop everything and deck him across the face right now.

“I’m all in. I vote we do ‘Guilty Pleasure’, ‘Transparentsoul’, and ‘Misery Business’. Those will get the crowd bumping.”

You snap her head up. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. And in that order.”

Pope nods. “That works. I can do that.” His anxious gaze darts from the stage and back to the circle. “I need to know right now so I can start setting it up. Pinkies?”

JJ holds his left pinky up first, his hand still resting on Rafe's tall shoulder. He attempts to tickle Rafe's ear until he gets shoved off. John B. holds up his pinky, actually sticking it in JJ's ear. Sarah and Kiara follow, wiggling their pinkies at you, who hasn’t held up anything yet.

With a sigh of great reluctance, your eyes meet Rafe's for a fraction of a second before you hold up your own pinky, grimacing when JJ whoops. 

“Country Club, you in?”

Rafe blinks out of his daze of staring at you, looking up to face the group who are all looking at him in expectation. His heart skips a beat. “Uh, wh–?”

JJ nods towards his hand. “Bodyguards get a say too. What’s your move?”

Rafe hates the way his face feels warm, and he thanks the world silently for making it dark in this venue. He clears his throat to push away the feeling, holding up his pinky without much convincing as he looks over to you, gazing up at him with your big pleading eyes that makes the room spin. 

Pope claps. “Okay. Good. You guys head back and go to our room, the guitars are in there and so are John B's sticks. CC, you stay with me.”

You grab Rafe's hand quickly, giving it a reassuring squeeze and you're not sure if it’s for him or yourself. Your palms start to grow sweaty due to the pressure of the upcoming performance, so you drop his hand as fast as you grabbed it. Rafe nearly whines at the loss. 

Everyone except Pope starts to move, and instinctively Rafe follows you like a lost puppy, but a strong hand backhands his bicep and Rafe stops, looking at Pope, the culprit who wears a confused look. 

“You’re CC now, you hear me?” Pope commands.

Rafe nearly laughs in his face at this five foot something spitfire barking orders at him, but his smirk slowly fades when he sees the craziness behind Pope's eyes.

He remembers the way he drove the band here, nearly killing all of them, as well as how he was seconds away from jumping the stage and taking out everybody in his line of sight, an aura of scrappiness surrounding him that makes Rafe believe he would rough up anyone in his path as a street rat would protect its food.

He decides that Pope is not the kind of guy you want on your bad side, not because of physical strength but because his mind would probably come up with something deeply concerning to torture you with. 

Rafe straightens, expression turning serious as he just nods stupidly.

That satisfies Pope. “C’mon. We need to set up.”

To say that the tech stuff is confusing is an understatement, it’s a foreign language.

But Pope seems to know what he’s doing, and all Rafe can do is watch, ask questions that he probably assumes are stupid due to the way Pope snorts as if there’s an obvious answer, and scan the crowd looking for you. He’s unnerved that he doesn’t know where you are, especially when he knows you've been hit on quite ferociously before, which makes his cheek hurt from the way he’s biting it. He doesn’t have a great view of the crowd but tries to crane his neck to see out from the side of the stage. 

All he sees is Freddie’s band exiting the stage, right towards them. His black beaded eyes meet Rafe's piercing blues, and he straightens up, fury bubbling in his chest after remembering what he did to you. His girl.

Freddie sleazily sizes Rafe up and down before clapping Pope on the shoulder. “You guys hire a guard dog?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Pope mumbles distractedly, his eyes not leaving his computer and sound board panel in front of him. “Nice set, by the way. Sounded familiar.”

“Ah, that old thing?” the douchebag laughs. “Came up with it all on my own. Just another stroke of my ingenuity.” He then pauses, noticing Rafe's button down rolled up to his elbows and dress pants, which makes him chuckle darkly. “Lookin’ pretty Kook-y for a lap dog. Wanna twirl for me, pretty?”

“Careful,” warns Pope, still fumbling with his sound board. “He bites.”

Freddie holds his hands up in surrender and it takes everything in Rafe not to knock the guy out cold where he stands. Noticing the gleam of unbridled fury in Rafe's gaze, Freddie takes a step back, partly in fear. “Alright, I’ll heel.” He finally looks at Pope as he stalks away. “Can’t wait to see what you guys planned.”

His words fade as he disappears into the crowd, Rafe noticing he's immediately handed a drink and a girl saunters into his other arm. He scoffs, fingernails digging so harshly into his palms he’s sure to draw blood.

The thought of that douchebag laying so much as a fingertip on you makes his blood boil, his heart lurching in his throat in regret that he didn’t lay out the bastard while he had the chance. 

“At ease, CC,” Pope murmurs. “You’ll get a crack at him one day. But not right now. Here, I need you to hold this button for me.”

After completing Pope's various tasks, the lights dim on stage. It piques Rafe's attention as he sees five silhouettes sneak onto the platform, noticing the glittery undertones of your top as you march right up to the mic.

The lights fade in ever so slowly, but the crowd recognizes them instantly as they begin to hoot and holler and cheer in a way that surprises Rafe. He reels and suppresses a beaming smile that, holy shit, his girl is…kinda famous? 

“Hi Gally’s,” you purr into the mic, the vibrato making Rafe's heart skip a beat. You look so goddamn pretty it hurts. “Didn’t expect to see us so soon, hm?”

The crowd jeers at your improv. You twirl the mic chord and whimsically stalks back and forth on stage, playing into the bit. 

“Now, I know you guys love to hear the stuff we usually play, and I only know that because of all the free drinks we get after we finish.” 

Someone in the crowd whistles, causing you to breathlessly chuckle into the mic. 

“And as much as we appreciate your love, we thought we’d do something a little different tonight. Instead of covers, we’ll be singing our own stuff. Hope you enjoy.”

Rafe catches a glimpse of Freddie’s face in the crowd and stifles a laugh. There’s no longer teasing amusement coating his eyes, instead it’s fear.

And if you're nervous, Rafe can’t tell because you carry yourself as a beaming enigma that can’t be brought down, a supernova. Your cheshire cat smile is enough to pierce through any heart willing to give into you. 

JJ's on guitar and he meets Pope's gaze, who counts down on his fingers, three, two, one, then Pope hits a button as JJ plays the opening notes to the song. Rafe realizes Pope cued backtrack vocals, a soprano yodeling fading into the audio. It starts slow, the spotlight beaming onto you as you start to sing low and sultry.

You get to a particular line that has Rafe raising his brows: “I fantasize what we would do, and how would it taste and the way you move–”

His breath hitches.

“--Oh, but some good girls do bad things too,” you sing slowly. 

Damn you, because you find Rafe's eyes and throw him a quick wink that has his knees nearly buckling.

You spin around to face the crowd as the lights beam on, coating the entire stage as everyone gets cued in. John B's on drums, Sarah's on backing vocals and keyboard, Jackie’s on his guitar, Kiara's on backing vocals and the bass. 

“I want this like a cigarette. Can we drag it out and never quit? And, oh my god, you are heaven sent with your dirty mind, yeah, you’re perverted.”

The song is good. Too good. The people in the crowd are feeling it, cheering and jumping and clinking beers. It could also be the way you're bending over and twirling on stage like you own the place, regardless of rhyme or reason or anything under the sun. 

Rafe watches you with a stupid grin that he can’t suppress, because here you are in all of your glory.

He can’t believe this is what he was missing out on, this is what you've been up to: looking too damn fine in a mini skirt and boots with a voice like honey, spice, and nothing nice, especially with that glint of trouble in your eye that means you're up to no good. 

“Feels like pornography watching you try on jeans,” you sing after the guilty pleasure chorus, and it has him reeling. 

You've totally been jean shopping with him before on multiple occasions. You always claimed to know what style was trending so you insisted on accompanying him whenever you felt his pants were getting a little outdated.

Rafe never thought anything of it, as you both went out and bought stuff together all the time, tried on clothes in the same dressing room, gave opinions on items and then went about their day as if nothing was intimate about it.

“You’re a pothead, you’re a cinephile, it’s been a while since you turned up the dial.”

Jesus, he knows he’s wearing a ridiculous expression on his face as his mind catches up to the notion that, shit, is there any way this is about him?

Rafe's head spins with two distinct things: is this about him, and if the answer is yes, then, holy shit, do you like him? Is he your guilty pleasure? Do you feel the same? Have you suppressed years of a school-girl crush like he has in fear of fucking up the one good thing in his life? Have you both been wasting all this time dancing around each other, caught up in the will-they, won’t-they?

Then he freezes. He doesn’t know if you wrote this one. It easily could've been Sarah or Kiara. Why would you? Why would he automatically assume that?

Rafe sucks in a breath of clarity. He shouldn’t assume it’s about him just because you're the one singing it. Maybe Sarah did write it about John B.. Disgustingly, Rafe wouldn’t be surprised, with the way that they look at each other. 

After a whole chorus of disassociated reeling, Pope nudges Rafe, shaking him from his trance as you keep on vexxing. "Chill. It’s about you. No need to stress.”

Rafe coughs, covering up his dumbfounded expression as he watches you in a different light now, a deeper one.

The bridge is just a vocal array of chaos, Sarah and Kiara and even fucking JJ belting yeahs as you fucking yodel, voice breaking in and out of pitch as you shut her eyes, avoiding looking in Rafe and Pope's direction. You belts your last hey, the chords in your neck prominent as you pour your soul into the note.

The backing vocals, the prerecorded harmonies, your powerful belt– it’s all too much and the realization hits him like a truck. 

He’s in love with you. 

You suck in a big breath after your long note, diving right back in. “You give me guilty, guilty pleasure.”

You repeat the line, over, and over, and over again until you build up to the end, “Pleasure, pleasure.”

Then you suck in a big breath, practically moaning, “Pleasure!”

The crowd wastes no time roaring their applause, hooting and hollering tremendously louder than they did for Freddie’s performance. You're spinning, as you can barely see three feet in front of you with the spotlight being so bright.

You instinctively looks backstage to Pope to see when he’s cueing the next song, but instead locks eyes with Rafe's piercing blues, wearing a smile so fucking big it makes your heart melt. You feel your cheeks burning red, that song written from the confinements of your journal, not that you'll ever tell him that.

But with the way he’s beaming, you have a feeling that he already pieced it together. 

You jump right into ‘Transparentsoul, starting off with a crazy drum riff that John B. formulated when he was drunk off three margaritas. It’s manic, but fuck, it works too well. You get right back into it, riffing and belting as if your life depends on it. John B's performance is one to note for the books, helping craft a nearly impossible song for drummers to replicate. He switches back and forth from double time, half time, and then free styling in the short breaks in-between right before the chorus. 

The three thumps of the drums and the lingering note from you end the song, sucking in a big breath to steady yourself. The crowd goes crazy, most people pointing to John B. and cheering for him. Sarah walks over to him, placing a messy kiss on his lips that leaves a red lipstick mark on his grinning smile, to which Rafe involuntarily rolls his eyes.

They take their places for the last song, ‘Misery Business’, and you nod to Pope to start the track that begins with a non-instrumental lead. 

Then JJ and Kiara jump into the riffs, this song being more punk rock that allows you room to show some attitude, and attitude you'll give as you see the dejected look on Freddie’s face, angrily sipping his beer with a blonde bimbo hanging off his arm. 

You wrote this one, the lyrics and melody originally being slower and more of a sad ballad.

Pathetically, it’s about Rafe and one of his past girlfriends that you just couldn’t fucking stand for the life of you. She’d ice you out, make you look stupid in front of your friends, belittle you, cling onto Rafe as if he was going to fly away with her and start a life in a different country.

She couldn’t handle being Rafe's second girl, so you showed her what it means to be his first choice, always.

It was originally slower, pitiful, and regretful. But when JJ read them during their pitch meeting, he said it feels angry, vengeful, hateful, and you liked the idea of making it a power ballad. Sure, it strains your vocals on the practical screams, but it’s all for the show. All to emulate the emotion. 

And, god, if Rafe doesn’t smirk the entire time.

He knows this one’s about him because you've fully said to him once that his misery business is finally over, when he told you that he broke up with Ada, his girlfriend of eight months.

Usually he’s the one dripping in jealously when it comes to you, shit, he could barely handle you spending all your time with different friends that weren’t him, but here you are – wearing green like it’s meant for you. And, dammit, if you don't rock green. 

They hit the bridge, and JJ and Kiara absolutely shred it for a few bars until you get real nice and close to the microphone.

“Whoa, I never meant to brag, but I got him where I want him now.” 

Your vocals riff up the line, throaty and raw and angry. 

Oh, and Rafe cannot wait to tease you about this one. He gets (and deserves) an eyeroll when he turns to Pope with a stupid smirk. “This one’s also about me.”

“Congratulations,” Pope deadpans before focusing back on the board. 

You belt out another note, then delivering your last line with that same sultry tone you began the night with. There isn’t even a moment of silence between the end of the song and when the crowd starts cheering – no – roaring in applause.

You linger in it for a moment, taking a breath of relief when you see that they like it. They actually like your stuff. You feels JJ clap a hand on your shoulder, shaking it back and forth in excitement, as Kiara comes up to bow while Sarah ambushes John B. 

You can barely see out in the crowd anyway, the spotlight being unbearable. Taking a step back from the front, you glance over to Rafe and Pope.

Pope prays up to the sky like he always does when he orchestrates another successful performance. And Rafe...

Rafe just stands there with his arms crossed, a cheeky smirk splayed on his lips. That dress shirt does him wonders, and you have to physically roll your eyes in order to tear your gaze away from him. 

Finally, finally, they exit the stage towards Pope and Rafe as the announcer comes up to say that there’s one more band going on before they pick the winners for Stonepit.

Rafe murmurs a good job to everyone – even JJ – as they pass by him. Realistically, he’s waiting for one person who happens to exit the stage last.

And for someone who was so confident and sultry on stage, you sure look sheepish as you approach him. 

Rafe tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, feeling a fresh sense of confidence that he certainly didn’t have before the performance.

“You could’ve warned me that you were some kind of rockstar.”

“Stop,” is all you can muster, fighting a smile. 

“What? Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You playfully shove him away, but you both know there’s no true malice to it.

The group walks through backstage back to their dressing room. Rafe trails you, this time firmly placing his hand on the small of your back as you weave through other bands and stage managers, and he admits the notion is nothing short of wildly possessive, but he doesn’t care.

You just sang about wanting him twice on stage, so, yeah, he’s gonna make sure they all know who it was all about. 

The group enters their private room, two giant couches and an open space with empty guitar cases and bags full of clothes and makeup. JJ puts his guitar back in the case and collapses on the couch with a dramatic sigh, his grin wide as day. 

Kiara sits next to him, nudging his dropped head so he can readjust for her. “We’re so fucking winning this thing!” she yells, JJ whooping and hooting next to her.

John B. and Sarah shack up on the opposite couch as she practically sits on his lap. Pope squeezes in next to them with an annoyed eye roll but knowing smirk. You move to sit on the couch with Kiara and JJ, and motions for Rafe to sit first since there’s only room for one more. 

So he does. And when you moves to sit on the arm, he grabs your hips so you're planted firmly on his lap.

You roll your eyes and smack his chest. The act is nothing short of normal, there’s been plenty of times where you've sat like this at one of his parties, at family gatherings, on his boat, you name it. But now there’s a new underlying meaning, especially with the way his fingertips are light as feathers against your hips, almost teasing you.

You decide this is your favorite place to sit. Your throne. 

John B. shamelessly fondles Sarah and no one bats an eye. “We have fifteen minutes until we find out. I dapped Sean up before we came in here, so he should be bringing us drinks.”

“Thank god,” JJ groans, letting Kiara mess up his hair and Pope's hair reluctantly. Her boys, happy as sinners in church. 

“You guys were fucking crazy,” Rafe finds himself saying before he can stop himself. You turn your head to look at him softly. “Way better than that piece of shit who went on before you.”

Pope snorts while everyone looks to Rafe in surprise for even saying anything, Sarah looking lovingly at her brother's words. “Country Club scared him away without needing to say anything.” He leans over Kiara to look at JJ. “JJ, I support your decision to elect CC as our official bodyguard. It was great. I didn’t even have to look up or throw a punch or take out my knife or anything. He just…fucked right off.”

JJ hums in satisfaction. “Ah. See, CC? You fit right in.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, but surprisingly there’s no poor intentions behind it. Just mild irritation and a bit of swelling pride. 

Suddenly, the door opens and in comes a buff looking guy with a platter full of beers, Sean, Rafe assumes. Sean sets the beer down on the table between the two couches, wordlessly dapping John B. up one more time before exciting the dressing room. 

You lean forward to grab two, one for you and one for Rafe, and his grip tightens when you bend down enough for him to see a sliver of underwear peeking through.

But you sit back within a second, back flush against his chest as you hand him a beer. He reluctantly takes a hand off of you to grab it, clinking the bottle to yours and taking a sip. 

The group gets lost in conversation about the show, but your gaze focuses on Rafe's, faces inches apart.

Despite the chaotic and irritatingly loud conversation happening in front of them, it’s as if you're the only two in the room.

You look into his piercing blues, his gaze softening when he realizes you're not gonna look away and contribute to your friends’ conversation. His hand is searing hot against your hip, especially when his fingertips play with the hem of your top with eased nonchalance that it makes your head spin.

It’s like a second nature to him, to touch you like this, like you're the only thing that matters in this given moment.

To him, you are. 

God, you missed this. It’s embarrassing how much you do. You know you shouldn’t have, but your dignity is already out the window because you, frankly, forgave him as soon as he brought you on that dance floor. 

“What’re you thinkin’, Snips?” he murmurs, a contrast from the yelling going on around them. 

You purr, the adrenaline from earlier starting to wear off. “I’m happy you came tonight,” is all you say without giving in that easy, even though he probably knows how much you missed him from that performance alone. 

His gaze alternates from looking into your eyes and your lips. He hums, almost distant. “Thank you for letting me. Thank you for sharing it with me, even if it’s just for tonight.”

Your posture straightens when you feel his hand smoothly running up your back, leaving your hip and making it all the way to your flaming cheek, brushing that stray piece of hair away from your face once more and tucking it behind your ear, careful not to brush against any of the piercings that he definitely hasn’t noticed before. Rafe's hand comes back down to ghost over your cheek, his palm barely caressing it, almost afraid.

But you lean into his touch, making the contact for him. He hums low in his throat, almost in praise. 

Rafe's next words send shivers down your spine. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you tonight. Especially when you were singin’ about me.”

Your cheeks unabashedly turn a deep shade of red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Out of embarrassment because, fuck, you got caught, you go to pull away from his hold but he slides his thumb to your chin and grabs your face gently, holding your gaze to his. 

“Baby, if watching me try on jeans got you all hot and bothered, you could’ve just said so. Instead of, you know, writing a song about it,” he teases as you groan, trying to pull away again but he tightens his grip just slightly. Then, softer, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Probably had a girlfriend at the time,” you mumble right back, but a knowing smirk forms on your lips. “Wrote another one about that, too. Maybe you’ve heard it?”

Rafe hums in acknowledgement, running his thumb down your chin to the column of your throat, then back up to ghost over your bottom lip.

“Mhm. I have. Might need to hear it again, though. The girl who sang it kept distracting me the whole time. Could barely even think straight,” he admits, his eyes flickering to your lips for a fraction of second before meeting your eyes. 

“Yeah?” you challenge quietly.

“Yeah,” he confirms immediately. “Could barely even stand up knowin’ you feel the same way.”

You quirk a brow. “Hmm? And what way is that?”

“The way I can’t breathe when I’m not with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the confession, the cool-girl facade fading as you take a second to look at him, to really look at him. Your brows furrow when you take note of the sincerity of his tone, or how his eyes don’t leave yours.

Or how his brow furrows and his lips barely part when he shifts his hips and you can suddenly feel him. 

Suddenly you're the only two people in the room, everything else drowning out besides the sound of your syncopated breaths and heartbeats thumping out of ribcages.

Rafe's hand lowers from your face and stalks down your spine, taking its rightful place back on your hip and squeezing ever so slightly. Your beer-free hand instinctively comes up to the back of his neck, fingers splaying on the nape to intertwine with the ends of his longer hair. His chest raises with a particularly deep breath, brushing against your ribcage for a fraction of a moment that sends a shock through your body. 

“Fuck, they’re starting the announcement,” Pope interrupts, causing you and Rafe to jump away from each other of surprise. 

Everyone in the group stands, excitedly bouncing towards the door and running out to the backstage. The last one to leave is JJ, who looks back to hold the door open for them but notices you and Rafe unmoved from your position, looking sheepish as if you've already been caught in a scandal.

After a moment of silence, JJ's face changes from confusion to understanding, and he barks out a short laugh. 

“Ahh. Okay. I get it,” he teases, quickly glancing at the group leaving before turning back to them with a wink. “I’ll put my sock on the doorknob.”

And with that, JJ shuts the door, leaving you and Rafe in the same emotional position as he did when he left you on the dance floor, the thick tension in the air growing between you as you take a moment to stare at the door, prolonging the inevitable.

Eventually, you move your gaze from the door back to Rafe, who’s already staring at you. 

You're nervous all of a sudden, the consequence of flirting and fooling around catching up to you. Months of assuming there were unrequited feelings – feelings you buried deep down to maintain the strongest friendship you've ever, and probably will ever, have – being disproved in the matter of the last twenty minutes.

But now he’s here, sitting pretty in front of you with such a serious expression on his face that it makes you suck in a deep breath at the intensity of it, the gravity of the situation and where it’s about to lead to.

Rafe notices immediately. “Hey,” he says softly, running the pad of his thumb over your hip bone, this time out of comfort. “We don’t need to do anything.” Then, he manages a genuine chuckle. “I just got you back. Being with you is enough f–”

He doesn’t get to finish before you're pressing yourself forward, taking the leap of faith and pressing your lips to his.

Rafe makes a noise of surprise, the words dying in his throat as he stays still for a moment, processing that, holy shit, this is happening. 

You, however, take his apprehension as rejection, and sheepishly begin to pull away.

But Rafe doesn’t let you as he leans forward to kiss you again, leaning far enough to place his beer on the floor without breaking contact. His new free hand allows him to caress your face, greedily pulling your body closer and closer to his to which you let out a noise of surprise.

He swallows the sound, his hand leaving your chin to slowly trickle down your arm and to your hand, where he takes the beer away and reiterates the same action he did with his bottle, allowing you to have your hands free to roam and touch and feel as you shamelessly make out like your lives depend on it.

Your fingers instantly grasp at his dress shirt, wrinkling the nice material as his other hand smooths up your thigh to grip the base of your ass, shamelessly fondling it like he has every right.

And, fuck, you whine so quietly that he barely hears it, but it makes him twitch underneath you.

The sound is music to his ears, so he does it again, and this time you lift your hips off of him, swinging your leg over to straddle and press back down against him, a sensation that sends warmth to your core and makes your eyes roll back. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs against your lips before hungrily taking you back in as he shifts underneath you. 

Hips stilling, you focus on kissing him fervently first, to which he gladly accepts. Rafe manspreads so god forsaken arrogant that it allows you all this room, but also forces your hips to spread wider.

You test the waters, gradually pushing your thighs down to further mold into his body. The act causes your skirt to push up your legs, your underwear shamelessly meeting his slacks right at the zipper as you grind down into him. 

You both moan at the sensation, you stilling with worry that you went too far.

But Rafe death grips your hips as he guides you down again, teasingly urging your body back and forth against him that has you quietly moaning into his mouth. He seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue to meet yours, kisses getting messy, sloppy, dirty. But neither of you seem to care, solely focusing on the high you're both chasing. 

Rafe grips your ass and hips so hard it’ll probably bruise, refraining from letting his hands do what they normally do and dive in recklessly.

He wants to do this right the only way he knows how – by slowing himself down. For you, he needs to be patient. The last thing he wants is to scare you off.

But you sense his reluctance, his hesitation, and nearly groan in frustration. You slow down your pace and find his right hand, putting your hand over his.

Rafe tenses in fear of hurting you, but instead you grip his hand and guide it up your body, over the curve of your ass, under your shirt and up your tummy, fingers splaying over your rib cage and, finally, just stopping under the swell of your breast. 

His breath hitches, then he hums quietly. “Gonna let me touch you there, baby?”

You nod against his lips. “Yes. Anywhere, Rafey. All yours.”

“All mine?”

You nod again, squeezing his hand to wordlessly assure him it’s okay. He mirrors your action, giving your breast a test feel and you sigh in relief.

Jesus. He nearly groans at the sound, the feel, the everything that’s happening right now. He doesn’t have a moment to process it because your hands are traveling further and further down his chest until they toy with the belt of his pants.

You tease him, running your fingers delicately under the waistline of his underwear, cool hands smoothing over his warm skin. Rafe unintentionally bucks his hips up at the sensation, his lips parting all pretty in a way that makes you cheshire-cat smile. 

“Am I yours, pretty?” you mumble, low and teasing, relishing in his fucked out gaze at the mere thought of you touching any lower.

He nods dumbly and you reel with the sight of it. It makes your tummy pool with anticipation.

“Will you let me?”

“Fuck, always,” he manages pathetically, chest heaving as he watches you undo his belt and zipper. Rafe nearly whines when your fingers ghost over his length, barely even touching him and you've got him a writhing mess. “Makin’ me go crazy, looking at me like that.”

You frown, feigning naitivity. “Like what?” you pout, pressing your thumb to his tip through his boxers that has him gasping in the shell of your ear. “Am I gonna have to ask nicely? Or will you be good?”

Slowly feeling him up over his boxers, Rafe bites his lip so hard he’s sure he’s gonna draw blood.

“You’re being a real fucking brat right now.”

“Hm? Am I?”

You squeeze around his length, causing him to huff, getting sick of the anticipation and just wanting to pin you down on this couch and make you eat your words. “Yes.”

Then you tilt your head so you can meet his gaze, taking note of his brows furrowed in frustration, and you can’t help but smile for knowing every trick in the book to push his buttons. 

“So punish me then,” you purr, sending chills down his spine. 

Before Rafe can pick you up and throw you down on the dingy couch, the door swings open and his irritation sky rockets as your friends hoot and holler obnoxiously, flooding the room.

Your pretty little fingers leave his boxers and settle on his tummy, your arm shielding the compromising hand placement.

Pope holds an envelope, undoubtedly filled with the money the first place winner is promised, while JJ thrusts a makeshift trophy in the air as if it’s the Stanley Cup. John B. holds Sarah bridal style, settling in on the couch across from you. Kiara runs over to the pair, ignoring the scandalous scene in front of her and gripping you by the shoulders and shaking you in such ferocious motion that it makes Rafe wince. 

“We fucking won!” she shrieks. “The whole damn thing!”

You beam, ignoring the fact that your skirt is pushed past your hips and that Rafe's hand is settled on your ass and how his belt is unbuckled. “You’re kidding?”

Pope waves the envelope in your face. “You should’a seen Freddie’s face. I wish I had a picture of it, I’d print it out and leave it on his doorstep every day for the rest of his life. Stupid fuckin’ prick.” He waves the envelope once in front of your face then in front of Rafe's face, then pulls back and starts doing it to everyone individually. 

What makes this whole situation worse for Rafe is that JJ decides to sit right next to you both, exhaling as if he’s had a long day at work.

In his nimble fingers, he admires the trophy that looks like a third grader made it, sighing and smiling. You make no effort to move or conceal what you were doing, so Rafe tries to push down your skirt to cover up a little bit with a huff, irritated even further that JJ's arm is brushing against Rafe's.

Oh, the audacity-

“Oh! Hey, guys. Didn’t see you here,” JJ says. He holds up the trophy. “You see this? Pretty fucking sick, right?”

“It would still be pretty fucking sick if you were three feet away from us,” Rafe spats, gripping onto you so tight to hold back from knocking his teeth in.

JJ pushes his luck by gasping and nudging Rafe's shoulder. “Aw? You like it, too? I knew you had a soft spot, Country Club.”

You laugh, chest bumping Rafe's in the process. “JJ, you could’ve at least knocked to let us know you guys were back,” you scold playfully, wrapping your arms around Rafe's neck and smushing your cheeks together, which makes the situation a little better.

Besides, it gives Rafe a better grip on your skirt, pulling it down over your ass successfully.

“Oh, please,” JJ chuckles. “No one gives a shit if you were fist deep in here. Sarah and John B. basically fuck all the time in front of us. We’ve seen more scandalous stuff than this, guys.” JJ gestures to their position. “Honestly, it’s a bit prude in comparison. We were brainstorming that there would at least be an ass in the air,” he teases, then wiggles his fingers at Rafe, “whose ass, we didn’t specify.”

Rafe seethes. “Anybody ever tell you to shut the fuck up and mind your own business?”

“All the time, actually.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and you hum in contentment, knowing that this is going to be their version of getting along from now on. 

The group lingers in the room for another hour or so, as you remain in your rightful place on Rafe's lap with the exception of getting up to use the bathroom with Sarah.

During your absence, JJ relentlessly teased Rafe when he fixed his slacks and belt to zip them back up. John B. jabbed that, hey, at least he was getting some, and for that he earned Rafe's slight respect.

Pope had complained that it wasn’t anything they weren’t used to seeing, then shooting John B. the most diabolical glare he could muster. Kiara had cooed that it was nice to see you so giddy and smiley, and Rafe liked the way it made him feel. 

Rafe can, truly, complain all he wants, but your friends aren’t that bad.

With the exception of JJ being the most annoying human being to grace the planet, but the others are situationally tolerable, including his sister who he (really) enjoys spending time with.

Plus, Rafe likes the smile that you wear when you're around them, a smile once reserved just for him. As much as he wants to be selfish and have it all for himself, he knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of one. It’s glorious. He likes that you share it with the people you care about, even though he really hates sharing. 

You come back with Sarah and retake your seat on his lap, Rafe wrapping his arms around your middle to pull you back flush against his chest. He places a gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder, relishing in the moment.

You turn to look at him, a soft look in your eye. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, bringing your hand up to brush some hair out of his face. 

“Hey, Snips” he responds even quieter, resting his chin against your shoulder. He notices your sleepy expression and manages a small smile. “Tired?” 

You nod slowly, mirroring his smile. “Had a long day, if you could imagine.”

He hums. “Hm. No. Wanna tell me about it?”

You yawn, and before you can say anything, someone claps.

“That’s our cue,” Pope interrupts, suddenly standing. “Everyone in the van.”

Everyone groans, JJ louder than everybody else. “No! C’mon, man we’re just getting–” he interrupts himself with his own yawn, “--started.”

Pope simply shakes his head.

Minutes later, they’re all in the car packed to the brim with bodies and equipment. A little while later, the van stops in front of your house, the low whir of the engine being the only thing heard on the quiet street. Pope shuts the lights off and puts the car in park, John B. opening the heavy door with ease. 

Pope turns around to look at Rafe awkwardly. “You, uh, going home? I can drop you off with Sarah.”

You stand and exit the van, speaking before Rafe can. “He's staying with me,” you say, shooting Rafe a knowing look. 

Rafe quietly sighs in relief, since the idea of going home alone crossed his mind more than once and he did not like the thought one bit. So, without further coaxing, he exits the van behind you and slides an arm around your waist. 

“Uh, congrats on tonight,” Rafe says awkwardly. “It was great.”

“Such enthusiastic words, Country Club,” JJ taunts. “We were serious about that bodyguard offer if you’re up for it. Unless you’re scared of jackasses like Freddie.”

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh, Maybank?”

You roll her eyes, lazily pushing Rafe towards your house. “Okay, recess is over. I’ll see you guys on Sunday for the fire.”

The group choruses a goodbyes to Rafe, goodbye Country Club to Rafe (along with a quiet yet grateful 'bye, Rafe' from Sarah), and the two of you head up the driveway towards your house. 

You both sneak in the way you've always snuck in, climbing up the porch gate and onto your balcony (with Rafe's help, of course), as you quietly slip into the confinements of your room. Granted, your heavily decorated bedroom is on the opposite side of the house from your parents’ but you're always extra careful to avoid any suspicion. 

Standing in the dimly lit room, you sigh and shut your eyes, fatigue coming over you more harshly than you'd prefer, swaying gently when you feel Rafe's cool hands steadying you on your hips.

Then, you feel him hug you, his broad shoulders caging you in as he rubs his hands up and down your back soothingly, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. God, it feels so nice and your knees nearly give out at how much you missed this, missed him.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You nod against his chest, drunk off the way you feel in his arms, letting him gently push you to sit on the edge of the bed while he grabs your favorite pajamas from the bottom drawer.

He comes back over to you, kneeling in front as he sets the pajamas down next to you. First he unzips your boots, delicately pulling your feet out of the shoe and rolling your socks off over her heel and past your toes. 

Once they’re off, Rafe gently taps her knee. “Hey. Your pajamas are ready.”

You pout. “Can you do it?”

Rafe lazily grins, his hands running up and down your thighs gingerly. “Of course, baby. Arms up.”

You do as you're told, raising your arms over your head as Rafe pushes your tank top up past your rib cage, over your bra, and up over your shoulders until it’s off. It leaves you in your bra, one that he caught a glimpse of earlier in the van, but he doesn’t move to pull it off.

Instead, Rafe grabs your pajama shirt, pulling it over your head and covering your torso protectively, then he reaches behind and unclasps the strapless bra, which falls into putty in his hands. He tosses it carelessly to the side.

Rafe pats your thigh gently. “Can you stand for a second?”

You whine in protest, but again do what you're told, pushing yourself up to stand while Rafe stays on his knees. He pushes your mini skirt down your thighs until it pools at your ankles, making him eye level with your core for a fraction of a moment. It doesn’t last long before he’s coaxing your feet to step through the pajama shorts, pulling them up your legs until they rest comfortably on your hips. 

He presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand before standing, making his way into your en-suite bathroom to rifle through the drawers, looking for makeup wipes. When Rafe finally finds them, he brings it out to you and gingerly rubs circles on your cheeks, forehead, neck, all over to get the remnants of tonight off your pretty face.

Discarding the wipe in your bedside trash bin, Rafe pushes stray hair pieces out of your face. “All done. You ready?”

You nod gratefully, crawling onto the bed and slipping under the covers on your usually side of the mattress. Rafe quickly undresses out of his dress shirt and slacks, leaving him in his underwear – his normal attire for whenever he sleeps over – turning off the bedside lamp before sliding in next to you, practically caging you in. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you hum when you notice the lights are off. Although the befuddlement doesn't translate, because Rafe settles in, wrapping an arm around you and slowly rubbing circles on your back as he slowly gets comfortable in a bed he missed so damn much. 

“Wait, hang on,” you murmur against his neck, “the light’s off.”

“And?”

“Well, I…”

“You wanna sleep with the light on?”

You nearly groan in frustration. “Are we not… finishing what we started earlier?”

Instead of initiating like you want, Rafe simply chuckles, the vibrato rumbling your nerves. He pulls you flush against his chest. “No, baby. Get some rest.”

“But…” You trail off pathetically, almost whining. “I want to.”

“You’re tired.”

You fight a yawn. “No, I’m not.”

“Snips,” he warns. “Sleep.”

“Ugh, Rafe.”

He says your name mockingly, his tone insinuating he’s wearing a lazy grin. 

Your shoulders sag against him as you huff, fanning hot breath over his chest. If you were standing, you probably would’ve stomped your foot, and he definitely would've poked fun at your desperation. 

But not tonight, because the way he’s holding you, shit, you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress.

Nonetheless, you reach out to press a palm on his chest, yawning once more but gently slapping him for emphasis on your next promise.

“Fine. But in the morning, I’m giving you the best head of your life.”

Rafe chuckles, amused at your determination. “Brat. Go to sleep.”

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work without permission. mdni.

notes this was a long spiel of absolute brain garbage, genuinely. if you understood the snips nickname, shoutout. hope you somewhat enjoyed????

[f1smutwriter]

so excited to see that youre willing to write about so many drivers i feel like a lot of them do not get enough love. anywhooo maybe arthur x pierres younger sister, where everyone always thought they’d get together and pierre was always just like “no. not gonna happen” but it definitely happened anyway 😩 ly pookie definitely wont be my last time requesting 💁‍♀️

|𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐚𝐥𝟏𝟐)

★ :: Arthur Leclerc x little!Gasly reader

★ : 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: Little Leclerc and Little Gasly aren’t so little anymore. They end up showing each other their true feelings but how would their brothers react

★ : 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 :: nothing just me ugly crying while writing this

★ : 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 :: Stop girl thank you so much. I do feel like a lot of the drivers get unappreciated. I love your energy and yes please request more would love to hear your ideas ♡︎

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

“Look at them both, they’re so cute” Pascale said to mine and Pierre’s mom as they see me and Arthur in the front yard riding bikes together when our older brothers are at karting practice with our dads.

“I feel like those two are gonna get together in the future” My mom said to Pascale while smiling on the front porch drinking tea together. “Arthur you can’t do that you have to go straight no zigzag” I told Arthur the rules again to our game we were playing. “petit lapin that wasn’t part of the rules” he told me while still going in zigzags. “Thur play fair, and y/n that wasn’t in the rules” Enzo said making sure we didn’t argue anymore making Arthur stop and me pouting.

“Look at her pout” Pascale said to my mom pointing at my pout on my face. “Watch he’s gonna feel bad” Pascale laughed softly and without a heart beat Arthur came to me and said sorry. “I’m sorry petit lapin I won’t zigzag anymore” He said to me while holding my hand making me laugh a little.

When I see my dad’s car in the drive way I run to it wanting to see my older brother and Charles. Once they got out the car they had their bags in their hands making me help them. “Soleil it’s too heavy for you” Pierre said to me before kissing my head making me pout because I wanted to help. I skip over to my dad and jump into his arms “Papa I won racing with Arthur” I said to my dad while Arthur is talking with my brother and Arthur “I let her win” he whispered to them loud enough for me to hear.

“Hey no you didn’t I won fair and square” I say pouting at him not liking that he said he let me win. “Okay, okay I’m sorry you won fair and square” He said telling my little five year old self before I skipped to my mom and Pascale. “She could barely reach the petals so Enzo gave her a push” he laughed before going to me and the mom’s. “Maman can I have some water” I asked my mom when she put me on her lap. “Go ask your brother mon amour” she told me softly before kissing my head softly. Instead of asking my brother I skip to Arthur. “Thur can you help me get water” I asked with my puppy dog eyes that got him every time. Without a second to waste he gets up and walks with me to the kitchen.

“Soleil why didn’t you ask me” Pierre called out from the porch stair where him and Charles were talking. “Because Thur does it better” I shouted back before going back to Arthur. “I hope you know she has a crush on my brother” Charles said chuckling to Pierre who was an upset. “No she doesn’t, she’s not allowed to have crushes anytime soon” Pierre said a bit angrily not liking the idea of his little sister having a crush.

“Sorry buddy but she does” Our mom said while chuckling softly while sipping a bit of her tea. All of a sudden they hear my giggles from the kitchen, they all look inside and see me on Arthur’s back as he spins me around a bit. “Told ya” Charles chuckled before making Pierre roll his eyes staring at his little sister and his best friends little brother.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡

𝐎𝐜𝐭��𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

“Thur where are you” I call out from outside his room. When he didn’t answer I went to Charles room. “Cha have you seen Thur I have his present but he’s not opening his door” I asked holding his birthday present in my hand. “Yeah he told me to tell you to go in the tree house” Charles said while doing his hair. “Thank you cha” I giggled before running to the tree house hearing Arthur.

“Thur” I sang from the bottom of the tree house before giggling when I see him stick his head out. “petit lapin what are you doing here” he asked me looking confused on why I was at the house so early. “Got you a present that I want you to open in private” I said softly before climbing the ladder to the tree house. He just smile at me helping me up the last step before looking at the present in my hand. “You didn’t have to petit lapin I don’t expect anything” he whispered softly to me holding my hand still.

“Here open” I squealed excitedly giving him the present. He just smiled at my reaction before opening it and seeing a red bracelet. “I know your favorite color is red because of Ferrari so I made you a red bracelet, so that one day when you become a Ferrari driver you have a perfect bracelet” I explain before looking at him. “Do you like it” I asked him before feeling him pull me into a hug. “I love it Mon petit lapin” he whispered softly into my ear making me smile before hugging him back.

“Love you Thur” I whispered to him softly. “I love you too Mon petit lapin” he whispered back to me before we get called down by Charles and Pierre. We get down and Pierre sees the red bracelet on Arthur’s wrist. “She spent all day and night making that for you” he whispered to Arthur before looking at his little sister who was laughing with Charles about something stupid Charles had said. “Really” Arthur mumbled not believing that his petit lapin did that for him. On that very day he realized he was gonna be friends with her forever.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟒, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

“No Thur it’s embarrassing everyone has a valentine but me” I mumbled against my pillow as he just chuckled rubbing my back. “Come on petit lapin, it’s not that bad” he laughed making me groan loudly in my pillow. “It is bad because even you have a date” I grumbled looking at him holding the teddy bear that he got me at the fair. “Your fifteen do you really need a valentine” he says to me softy rubbing my leg to make me feel better.

“You act like you’re so much older then me” I say smiled before looking at him with a bigger smile. “Go have fun your girl is probably waiting for you” I encouraged him to go have fun while holding my bear. “You sure because I don’t have to go” he asked me groan. “Yes go don’t be miserable here with me go have fun on your date Thur” I reassured him before I see him get up and walk out the door to go get ready for his date.

I sigh going into the kitchen and getting by all the good snacks we had. My mom just comes and sees me confused “what’s wrong Mon amour” she asked me seeing me get the good snacks. “No Valentine equals a very sad day maman” I said with a sad smile trying to lighten up the mood. “It’s okay Mon amour there will be many men lined up for you soon” she reassured me kissing my head before going back upstairs.

A few hours I hear the doorbell, then I hear my mom call me down stairs. “Y/n it’s for you amour” she called for me from the door. I groaned getting with my big pajama pants and Pierre’s hoodie that i never gave back going down stairs. “Who is it” I asked from the stairs before going to the door seeing Arthur with a big box of chocolate chips cookies along with white and pink tulips. “Wow look at you she’s gonna love it” I said softly with a smile before fixing his glasses that I loved on him. “Do you like it” he asked me with a smile as I fix his glasses. “Of course I do and she will too” I replied before looking at the beautiful flowers again.

“Well then my girl here are your favorite flowers and since you hate chocolate and can’t be normal whatsoever here is your cookies with chocolate that make no sense” he says to me giving me the flowers and cookies. “Thur what are you doing” I asked him holding the flowers and cookies. “Y/n Gasly, my petit lapin will you do me such an honor of being my Valentine” he questioned making me look up at him with a huge smile on your face. “Are you being serious right now” I asked almost about to cry from the sweet gesture.

“Actually now that I think about it I asked the wrong Gasly” he grinned at me making my eyes roll automatically. “Your stupid Leclerc” I said before hugging him wrapping my arms around his neck. “Not as stupid as you Gasly” he whispered to me wrapping his arms around my waist. My mom and dad just looking at us with awe on their faces when Arthur did all that for me. “I got more stuff in the car like food from your favorite restaurant, your favorite drink and everything else Mon petit lapin” he said softly kissing my head making me look up at him with the biggest smile on my face.

That was the day I realized I was in love with Arthur Leclerc.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡

𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

Me and Arthur are walking down the strip of Las Vegas for the very first time. “This is Las Vegas, don’t really get the hype” Arthur laughed while walking around and looking at all the buildings. “Well Las Vegas is about gambling and drinking so” I giggled swinging our hands back and forth. “Yeah my pockets are done for the day” he told me before we walk in the lobby of our hotel. “Wanna go bother Pierre and Charles” I asked him with a slight smile on my face making him chuckle. “Let’s go” he says dragging me to the poker game they were playing with the other f1 drivers

“Hey tripod” I say to my brother before kissing his cheek and placing my head on his shoulder. “Soleil go bother someone else like max he’s winning right now” he whispered to me so no one else heard him. “No he scares me” I whispered back making him laugh and me just giggle. “Just go please and I’ll buy you sushi tomorrow” he offered making me going over to max placing my chin on his shoulder. “Max verstappen what are you doing on this fine evening” I say before he looks at me making me smile big and bright.

“Trying to ignore a certain Gasly” he says back with the same smile making me laugh. “Okay, okay I’m sorry please forgive me” I said before going to Arthur and sitting next to him at the booth where the rest of the drivers were. “I just realized is little Leclerc and Little Gasly dating” Max Fewtrell asked Lando who was drinking his drink. “Yeah they’ve been dating for like a while now, I think their childhood sweetheart.

“Wanna go back up and order room service” Arthur asked me while rubbing my thigh softly. “Always” I whispered before getting up off him and going to the elevators. “I still can’t believe you still have this” I say holding his hand and pointing at the red bracelet I made on his twelfth birthday. “A very special girl made it for me” he whispered softly to me before we walk to the room. “Yeah how special is she” I asked softly still holding his hand.

“Well she’s really special, the day she made me this was the day I fell in love with her” he says to me softly making me stop in my tracks. “W-what” I stuttered softly not believing the words that came out of his mouth. “I said the day she made me this was the day I fell in love with her, even though it was my twelfth birthday and she was 10 I fell hard” he whispered softly to me making me tear up.

“Please tell me you’re not joking, because if you are imma die Leclerc” I ranted fast making him look at me with his smile. “Never Mon petit lapin” he said before holding my face and kissing me. I kiss him back the guy I’ve loved for the past eleven years. The boy I had a crush on at five years old. I was kissing him I was finally kissing him.

He pulled away putting his forehead on mine. “I love you so much Mon petit lapin” he says while he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I love you so much more Thur” I say back tearing up happy tears now that I finally had the love of my life in my arms. He kissed me the man that I’ve been in love with for eleven years counting finally kissed me.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟔 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

“Gosh this feels so surreal” Charles said fixing Pierre’s and his bow ties in the back room. “I know I mean I always knew they were gonna end up together but wow it doesn’t feel real” Pierre said softly tearing up realizing his little sister his Soleil was gonna get married. He hugs Charles tearing up in his shoulder as Charles tears up with him.

“Oh come on I can’t have my best men cry on me” Arthur says before hugging them both softly laughing at the two. “Bunch of cry babies” he teased them before Pierre pulls away. “Hey my baby sister is gonna be a Leclerc let me have my moment” Pierre told him before wiping away his tears and looking at Arthur. My dad calls for Arthur telling him it’s time. “Promise me you’ll take care of her” Pierre said looking at him with a smile.

“I promise” Arthur said back before hugging him quickly making his way down to the doors where everyone is. They open the door for him and he walks down the aisle first seeing everyone he loves is there. His mom, my mom, all our friends and family. He makes it down to where the priest is taking his spot before all the maid of honors and best men walked down with each other. After then were the flower girls spreading white and pink tulip petals. After them I come in with my arm entangled with my dad’s as he tears up and tells me how much he loves me. He walks me down to my spot in front of Arthur where he mouths to me with tears in his eyes how beautiful I was.

The priest starts the reception not hearing anything but just staring at Arthur with so much love in my eyes showing him I couldn’t wait to be his forever. “Do you y/n, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live” the priest says to me making me squeeze his hands a bit making sure he knows I will first. “I do” I say softly while looking into Arthur’s eyes.

“And Do you Arthur, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live” the priest asked Arthur making him squeeze my hand like I did to him. “I do” he said back to me making a smile pop up on my face along with tears. I turn around and grab the wedding band from Kika and he turns around to grab it from Pierre. I slide it on his ring finger as he slides his on mine.

“I know pronounce you husband and wife, Arthur you may now kiss your bride” he said making Arthur grab me and kiss me softly. Feeling the feeling I’ve had in my body for eleven years slowly come back. I kissed him back before pulling away as everyone is clapping for us. I grab his hand and we both walk down the aisle hand in hand going to the car to go to our honeymoon. I kiss him one last time before kissing and hugging everyone good bye before I get in the car where Arthur is waiting for me. “So Mrs. Leclerc Gasly where would you like to go first” Arthur asked me as he puts the car in drive.

“Anywhere you are Mr. Leclerc Gasly” I said before rolling down our windows and driving off wherever we will go. Only we know that and that’s only for us to know.

˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡˚｡⋆ ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡

★ : 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 :: I’m not crying you are. I know you asked me something so little but I just had to make it um how do you say it. ✨extra✨ which made the story a masterpiece. I did this scene twice because I forgot to save it and I left and everything went with me sooo. I really hope you like it and more story’s coming soon.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 10

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I don’t know if I’ll have time to post tomorrow so I’m posting an extra chapter tonight. Sorry in advance for this one…

Content Warnings - Death, violence, mayhem, people get captured

After you calmed down, Finnick carried you down to the beach to spend the afternoon with the rest of the group. They all kept their distance but you were too exhausted to try anything. You ended up sleeping for the first real time in the arena.

You were asleep for so long, you woke up to find a fresh bandage on your arm and some bread from District 3 being split amongst the group. Finnick brought you some bread and water as he sat down to watch the sunset with you.

You can’t talk anymore, not even to him. It’s like your voice has run dry and nothing will come out. You don’t even know what you would say though. He seems content enough to just sit in silence with you.

Nighttime falls and the group makes the trip up to the tree again. Finnick lets you walk in front of him but he has to help you at some of the steep parts. You fight the urge to claw at him every time he touches you, despite the fact you are telling yourself that he is safe. He wouldn’t hurt you.

At the tree, Finnick helps Beetee with the wire. You sit down close by, waiting for something bad to happen. The game makers haven’t had a death in awhile.

You emerge from your thoughts as Beetee hands the spool of wire to Katniss and Johanna, instructing them to take it down to the water.

“I’m going to go with them as guard,” Peeta states.

“No,” Beetee states. “You’re too slow.”

They continue to argue a bit before Peeta relents and let’s Katniss go with Johanna. Splitting them up must be part of the plan.

They don’t question why Beetee doesn’t split you up from Finnick. He’s the only one who can control you. None of them want to go anywhere with you if he isn’t tagging along.

Finnick and Beetee are whispering to each other, putting you and Peeta on edge. What are they planning? They seem to come to a consensus when the wire goes slack. Someone must have cut it.

“Stay with her,” Finnick tells Peeta. “I’ll go find them.”

Peeta goes to protest but Finnick has already bolted off into the jungle.

“Do you think they’re ok?” he asks you.

You shake your head no.

Moments later you hear a zap and see Beetee sprawled out in the grass. He must have made contact with the force field. There’s a cut on his arm that you didn’t notice before. When did that happen?

Seeing Beetee, Peeta quickly takes off towards where the girls went, scared that you’ll be set off at any moment. A cannon goes off and all you can hope is that it wasn’t Finnick.

You can hear people yelling and screaming. People must be fighting. You’re too exposed here.

You make your decision, you have to hide before you go rogue. Bolting into the trees, you look for one that would be easy to climb. You find one a few minutes later but quickly realize that you can’t climb it with one arm. Instead, you huddle down at the base of it, hoping people will go towards the fighting and not you.

It’s minutes later when you hear the loudest boom you think you’ve ever heard in your life. Finnick is screaming for you but it must be a trap. Why would he want you to go close to the explosion?

Pieces of the arena fall from the sky and you realize this must be the plan Finnick was talking about. He must be calling you to the pickup point.

At this revelation, you start running towards him, colliding with someone in the process.

“Where’s Katniss?” an out of breath Peeta asks you. You point towards the explosion, guessing that’s where she is headed.

Peeta makes it two yards before a dart flies into his neck and sends him to the ground. You want to scream but are cut off by a sharp pain in your neck, followed by darkness.

You wake up to a white room, the cuffs digging into the bandaged cut on your wrist. The smell of this place is recognizable. You must be in a capital hospital.

The door to your room clicks open and Snow approaches with his guards.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he states. “I’m disappointed to see that not much has changed since the last time I saw you.”

You glare at him, which only makes him smile.

“Tell me what you know about the plan,” he commands. You shake your head. You really don’t know much.

Snow furrows his brows and a sudden pain flashes through you.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he states. “You know how much I value honestly. Tell me what you know about the plan.” You shake your head again and feel another pulse of pain, darkness creeping in at the corners of your vision.

“I see you’ve decided to be difficult again,” Snow chuckles. “Very well. Plan B it is.”

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[freesia-writes]

Ch 26: Confrontation

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.2k

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Song: “Already Gone” by Sleeping At Last (Cover)

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The afternoon was beginning to lose its battle against evening as Hunter wove his way through the trees, his gut protesting each step along the familiar path. His mind was racing so quickly that he was utterly lost in it all, instead trying to simply focus on where he was going rather than what he would do when we got there. He pushed up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, then pulled them back down, then tugged at the waistband of his brown pants. As the sound of the sea grew louder, he emerged from the densely wooded forest into the meadows that sloped toward the cliffs above the ocean. The rickety white fence greeted him with its crooked posts grinning in a cruel smile, and he pulled the gate open with more force than he intended, stalking toward the cottage and trudging right up to the front door.

He knocked, three hard blows that sounded as angry as he felt. 

No response. 

He listened intently for any trace of motion or sound within. 

Nothing. 

He turned abruptly and walked around the side of the house, scanning the backyard and garden until his eyes settled on her form, bent over some vegetable plants as she pulled weeds without a care in the world.

Without a care in the world.

Hunter took a deep breath, setting his jaw with deliberation to avoid letting his emotions get the best of him. Strategy, he reminded himself. Everything came down to strategy. There was no point in abandoning reason, no matter how relentlessly the pain churned his stomach. He approached slowly, making a point to step on some dry twigs to announce his presence. Lyra stood up, shifting the basket on her arm as she glanced around the yard. Her brown hair was in a loose braid, her soft form covered by a rather shapeless cream-colored dress with a long brown cardigan on top. 

Then she saw him. 

The basket almost slipped from her elbow, but she caught it with a white-knuckled grip as she stared at him, mouth falling open slightly as a myriad of emotions flashed across her face. Hunter was surprised to see how they mimicked his own, and the sheer amount of thoughts and feelings attacking all at once created a sudden wave of nausea. He came within a few paces of her and stopped, keeping a healthy distance between them as his hands fidgeted at his side before he stopped them with tightly-crossed arms. 

“What are you doing here?” he growled, a million critical thoughts besieging him immediately at his question.

“I live here,” Lyra pointed out, eyebrows drawing together. “But you’ve got a lot of nerve just tromping right into my backyard… after what you did.” Her anger felt brittle, a thin veil over the sadness that threatened to spill out along with the tears in her eyes.

“What I did?” Hunter echoed, dropping his arms to his side as he stared at her in disbelief. “What I did?! That’s rich. Why didn’t you just turn me in from the start? Why drag me to some other planet? Why just me, and not all of us?” The questions were flowing freely now, and his frustration at his own lack of control made it all feel that much worse. “You call it in and then disappear, like a coward… Couldn’t stand to watch the consequences of your own actions?” 

“What?” came her dumbfounded retort, and the shock in her eyes gave him pause before the dragon in his chest rose again. 

“Now you’re going to play dumb?” he challenged, relishing her flicker of hurt before charging onward. “Came back to finish the job and you’re still pretending like you don’t know what’s going on?”

“Hunter, you left me!” she exclaimed, eyes glistening. “I cared for you, let you in… And you turned around and sold me out without even knowing all the facts!”

“Sold you out…” 

“Were you just waiting all along until you could get both of us? How long did you know?”

“About what?” he challenged, anger and hurt battling for center stage as he stared at her beneath hard brows.

“Never mind. I can’t believe you’re turning this around on me,” Lyra said, voice cracking with emotion. She turned away, shoulders hunched in despair as she quickly wiped her eyes. 

“Are they coming here next?” Hunter continued, taking a step closer.

“Who?” she asked, whirling back to face him. 

“Whoever you thought you could make a quick buck from,” he muttered, fighting back the lump rising in his throat, furious at its mere existence. “Is that why you came back? The Empire isn’t very forgiving when you don’t deliver. Must have been a real bummer that I got away, eh?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, face contorted with despair. “I came back to the hotel to find it swarming with Imperials. They were looking for us. They knew I was there. Breslin, too. I heard one of them say ‘they’ll be back, he said so.’ What does that sound like to you?” 

He took a breath, mouth open and mind racing, but the words didn’t come, so he snapped his jaw shut, pressing his lips together in a thin line as he stared at her. The complete impassivity on his face hurt her more than his sharp words ever could, and Lyra turned away again, throwing her basket on the ground nearby. Hunter’s brows furrowed more deeply, and he rubbed his face with a hand before starting again. 

“You’re a traitor to the Republic,” he said quietly, every word laced with vitriol. “It’s not my fault they found you – you probably gave yourself away trying to turn me in.” 

“Turn you in for what?!” she yelled, kicking the basket before whirling back to face him.

“Why are you still pretending to be innocent? That you don’t know?” Hunter said, voice rising to match hers. All sense of strategy had flown out the window, and he found himself wanting to hurt her, to exact revenge for every single moment she’d tricked him into thinking he could be happy. “That we’re clones, wanted by the Empire, harboring fugitives, on the run?” Each inflection was a verbal stab, but instead of any kind of dark revelation at being exposed, Lyra’s expression grew increasingly shocked with each admission. 

“Clones…?” she repeated, face scrunched in disbelief. Her befuddlement seemed so authentic that Hunter was beginning to feel as though he were the crazy one. But what other explanation was there? He continued to glare, emanating rage and indignation as he watched her like a hawk, scrambling to make sense of the conflicting information from her words and the events that had transpired. 

“Why else would the Empire have called an entire squadron on our hotel room, right after you conveniently disappeared? After you…” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “After you kissed me on the forehead and said you were sorry. Sorry for what?” The pain was threatening to overtake the anger, but he clenched his fists at his sides.

“Sorry for keeping things from you,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks now. Her resolve was melting by the second, chipping away at his own fortified defenses. “About my past… About Breslin… The truth about all that had happened. I thought I could leave it behind.” 

Hunter took a deep breath, glowering at her as though it could drive the answers out into the open. It didn’t. The two of them stood in the garden, each one rooted in angry confusion and insulting misunderstanding. Lyra was slowly wilting, unable to look at him. When the discomfort grew to an unbearable pressure, she began to speak, exhaling her story in miserable resignation. 

“I thought I was working for a simple political office on Coruscant. But I found out they were doing some weird experiments. Totally unethical and downright cruel… something about cloning or DNA stripping… I tried to expose it; I gathered some evidence and took it above my boss’s head. I thought I was doing the right thing… But I went to the wrong people. They were in on it too.” 

She stopped, grief overtaking her for a moment as she sniffed, looking to the sky and willing the tears to stop. Hunter waited, motionless. 

“So they threw me in prison to make sure I wouldn’t talk anymore, spun some story about how I was a traitor, and the Republic became the Empire overnight. I’d given Breslin the evidence and made escape plans for her with a friend before they took me away. I was in jail for weeks, and I started to see how other inmates would just vanish without a trial or anything… So when some shady pirate dressed as a guard came by and offered me a chance to get out and disappear, I took it.”

Now it was she who paused for a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes again, still unable to meet his gaze. 

“I tried to find Breslin, but her transport had been attacked. Our friend was killed, and I had no idea where she ended up. The pirate conned me out of almost everything I had, talked me into some ‘deluxe package’ to keep me safe. Turns out it was a load of Bantha fodder – a pile of cheap weapons and explosives. What was I supposed to do with that? But he found a safe place for me to live, and I was able to get some long-range communications equipment so I could keep looking for her.”

“What, so you could get the evidence back?” 

“No,” Lyra said, finally looking up at him in offense. “Because Breslin is my daughter.”

Hunter stared wordlessly. 

“I had her when I was young and dumb. We almost grew up together. Then all of this happened. I felt horrible for dragging her into it. I never should have given it to her. I put her in danger too. And then I lost her… for years,” her voice cracked, and she clamped her mouth shut, turning away as her shoulders shook with irrepressible grief. “I would change a million things about it if I could. So many stupid decisions. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Seconds ticked by. 

“Apparently, Breslin settled down on Keytoll,” Lyra continued, lifting her chin to the horizon. “She changed her name to Neon, shaved her head… Made some friends, got a good job in data encryption. When she dug into the evidence I’d given her, she realized it was nothing she wanted to be caught up in, so she hid it and moved on. Claimed that her hobby was playing around with radios, technology, and communicators while she tried to reach me. But we hadn’t had time to set up any kind of code or whatnot. She was the smart one who broadcast a message with some childhood memories disguised as an audioholo that I picked up. Anyway… I found her… I thought we could come back here and be safe… just live simple lives without the constant fear of looking over our shoulders…”

Hunter hated how much that same yearning resonated deeply with him. 

“I don’t know how they found us, if it wasn’t you,” she said softly, turning back to face him with a scrutinizing expression. “We hid on Keytoll for the last few months, came up with a plan. Well, Breslin did. She had some contact that turned out to be the same pirate who helped me escape from prison. He had quite a... bold... personality. Tried to con us again, but she was smart enough to catch it. So with his help, we faked our deaths, published it to the right sources… Then I came back here in the hopes of moving on once and for all.”

“And Breslin?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“More secrets?” His eyes narrowed.

“Why would I tell you?” Lyra retorted, her anger returning. 

He remained silent, the deep hurt of betrayal and loss of trust muddied by the utter confusion and sheer overload of information. 

“Besides,” she continued, advancing on him now. “What’s all this about you? You’re a clone? A fugitive?” 

Hunter shifted on his feet, furious at himself for having revealed his hand in a moment of recklessness. He still wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. It sounded like a plausible story, but he’d been so shamefully fooled by her entire facade that it could be yet another cover-up, a ploy to let his guard down again for whatever else she needed. Perhaps she wanted to protect her own place of safety by taking him elsewhere for capture. He shook his head, rattling the thoughts out of the way, and met her gaze. Two pairs of brown eyes locked in hurt and outrage. 

“There’s all kinds of stories out there. Same as you… Lies of the Empire to get rid of any opposition.”

“Oh, now you’re gonna be vague?”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other. 

Lyra looked down at her basket, its contents strewn across the ground, then wrapped her arms around herself as though barely holding it together. She glanced back up to him with a single, profound look. 

“Take care, Hunter.” 

And with that, she turned toward the house, picking her way through the garden beds with slow, defeated steps. Hunter’s eyes darted back and forth across the ground in front of him, lips twitching, then he crossed his arms again. 

“Just giving up and running away?” he called after her, despising every word as it came out. 

Lyra stopped, head hanging low, and he watched her shoulders slump beneath the weight of his cruel accusation. She began to turn, but hesitated, tightened her arms around herself, and continued into the house, disappearing inside without a backward glance. 

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Song: A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera – Say Something Lyrics | Genius Lyrics

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[kithnkiss]

Reactions (or head-cannons) to the the boys being/getting jealous

➜ they get jealous

warnings. f!reader, established relationship, cursing, suggestive themes, dirty talk (??), you make them jealous on purpose to be playful (but maybe this is toxic? I guess this depends on what you think is toxic 🤷🏻‍♀️)

notes. Thank you for the request anon :)

GENE SIMMONS

Genie becomes unashamed when he's jealous. He's not angry with you, but the guy attempting to chat you up? Yeah, he's getting on Gene’s nerves.

The guy knows you're here with him, saw you two holding hands and even kissing. So why is he trying to make moves when he knows you are already taken? When your his?

He knows you can handle yourself, which is why he doesn't immediately get up to intervene and stop the guy's advances. However, when you turn to subtly wink at him and start flirting back to provoke a reaction from him, that's when he practically jumps out of his chair.

He doesn't even glance at the guy as he walks towards you, giving you a look that sets your heart racing and your thighs trembling.

"You know you're not coming tonight, right?" he says bluntly, causing you to gasp in disbelief, not expecting him to say something so boldly in front of the man.

"G-Gene!" You start to scold, feeling your face flush from embarrassment (and arousal), but he ignores you and instead focuses on the guy, whose face is redder than yours.

“Sorry pal, but we needa’ head out, gotta teach my girl a lesson. She can be a handful, y’know?”

ACE FREHLEY

He's been watching you from a distance, chatting with another man, smiling coyly, playing with your hair, touching the guy's arm— the whole nine yards.

He knows you're messing around when you keep looking over in his direction for a reaction, but you've been together for so long. In the past, he might have been pissed, but now? He can play games too.

You return with a play of innocence on your face, as if you've hadn’t spent the past thirty minutes looking for trouble. However, it's when he leans in from across the table, reaching out to grasp a strand of your hair and twirl it around his finger— mirroring your earlier actions— with an amused smirk that hints at an evening full of possibilities, that you realize you're in for it tonight.

“Hope you’re proud of yourself, cuz’ when we get home,” his hand transitions from your hair to your face, softly stroking your cheek with the back of his hand, “I’m gonna have so much fun making you beg for me to let you come.”

ERIC CARR

In the beginning, if he had seen you behaving this way with some random guy, he would have felt hurt, perhaps a bit angry, but mostly heartbroken.

However, after a few years of knowing you like the back of his hand, he knows when your just being a little shit to get a rise out of him. He can sense your playful mischief from the subtle glances you throw his way. It’s clear you’re doing it on purpose, and he’s aware of the game you’re playing. But when the guy starts tracing your arm with his finger, that’s the moment he can’t stay seated any longer. He stands up and strides over, and you instinctively take a step back from the guy. It wasn’t that you were worried Eric would actually confront the guy; he wasn’t the type to start trouble. But when he was upset, he had a way of being incredibly intimidating.

Nevertheless, with that fierce look of determination etched on his face and the confident sway of his hips, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of what he might say or do next.

Eric, without even sparing a glance at the guy you were talking to, positioned himself between the two of you. He turned to you, his finger gesturing firmly toward the exit.

“In the car, now.”

Just as you were about to follow his command, Eric grasped your arm, leaning down to whisper in your ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine, making the hairs on your arms stand on end.

"And I want those panties of yours off by the time we get there."

Good thing you decided to wear a dress.

PAUL STANLEY

You couldn't quite pinpoint what had given you the guts to try and flirt with this random guy at the bar when you should have been getting drinks for yourself and your boyfriend. I mean yes— Paul had pissed you off before arriving here, but regardless, even you knew this behavior was completely out of character for you.

But it was too late. The thought had crept into your mind, and before you knew it, you were walking toward the guy, unable to halt yourself. Now, just five minutes in, you were already regretting every decision that had led you to this moment. And what’s worse, Paul didn’t even care.

Each time you sneaked a glance at him, he seemed to be looking at something else. Yet, unbeknownst to you, every time you diverted your attention back to the guy you tried flirting with, he was watching with a grin of pure amusement.

You belonged to him. He was aware of it, and he knew that you were aware too. Still, it was entertaining to watch your cheeks flush and to see you glance at him, silently hoping he would come to your rescue. But since you had dug this hole for yourself, he figured he might as well enjoy watching you wallow in it for a little while longer.

That is, until the guy began to close the distance, getting a little too close for comfort.

Paul wasn't the jealous type; that just wasn't in his nature. However, he was undeniably territorial. He valued the relationship he had with you and envisioned a future where you would be married. But as he observed the guy inching closer, a fleeting image of you standing at the altar with someone else flashed through his mind, and that was enough to spur him into action to put an end to this little situation you put yourself in.

This would be the fifth time looking over at Paul and you nearly let out a breath of release when you finally saw him making his way over to you. Thank god—

"Are you done yet, baby? I've been wanting to take you out of that dress and have you over my knee ever since you put it on for me."

What? He couldn't just let you get away with this little scheme of yours so easily, regardless of how much it had backfired on you.

©️ kithnkiss 2025, Rights Resevered

[milfsloverblog]

Life Eternal (part 2)

Can you see me longing for you forever?

Larissa Weems x former student fem!reader

A/N: Thank you to anyone who enjoyed the first chapter and asked for more! Still inspired by some of my life events. Title again from one of my fav Ghost song (you should really listen to it, just for some more angst).

TW: alcohol consumption

You have no idea how long the two of you stayed in each other’s arms, Larissa’s body gently swaying as she rubbed soothing circles on your back. You didn’t want to let go and it seemed like she didn’t either.

“We should go back outside.” Larissa eventually said but made no move to pull away from you.

Just one more minute, please.

“We should.” You agreed and reluctantly let go of the tall woman.

“Let me take a good look at you, it’s been so long.” Larissa said as her hand cupped your cheek to lift your head.

It took all of your strength not to close your eyes and nuzzle your face in her palm, instead letting your eyes roam on her face like hers did on yours. You loved everything about her. From her sapphire eyes to the dent on the tip of her nose to the scar that slashed through her lip.

“You haven’t changed at all.” You said when your eyes locked with hers again. You are still the most beautiful woman in the world.

“You have. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.” Larissa smiled and her hand dropped back to the side of her body, making you miss its warmth instantly.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you that lasted until Larissa eventually moved toward the door.

“Perhaps afterward we could visit the Weathervane for a hot chocolate? I would love to catch up and hear about all those adventures you’ve been on during those five years. Do you still like it with whipped cream and cinnamon?” Larissa offered, half turning to look at you.

I can’t. I can’t spend the evening with you as if I had never left. I can’t bare the thought of opening up to you. I can not let you build a nest inside my heart again, Larissa.

And there it was again, that look of expectancy in her eyes. Why did she keep hoping all those years, couldn’t she just forget about you like you had tried so hard to do about her? Had she even tried at all?

“I think I could use something stronger.” Was all you could answer. You should have said no, but you couldn’t disappoint her.

“Of course, I know a nice place downtown. I will take us there once everyone is gone.” Larissa gave a nod and opened the door, waiting for you to walk out of her office.

You were back in the yard in a few long strides, taking deep breaths of fresh air hoping it would ease the loud ringing in your ears.

You had no choice but to make small talk to a few people from your past when Enid grabbed your arms and dragged you to one of the tables. It seemed like everyone had settled into their life. Most had a nice job, were in a steady relationship and some were even married. As you found out, none of them were madly in love with a woman twice their age.

From time to time you’d look around the yard, hoping to catch a glimpse of Larissa’s tall figure, only for your heart to skip a beat each time your eyes met.

“Promise me you’ll call more often!” Enid said as she gave you a tight goodbye hug.

“I promise I’ll try.” You nodded, catching Wednesday smirking at your answer.

What a strange couple they made, you thought as they walked away into the parking lot. Opposite attracts. At least you hoped that was true, that might give you a chance with-

“Well, it looks like everyone is gone.” Larissa’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “You can wait by the car, darling, I just need to fetch my keys.”

You were surprised to see that she was still driving that old minivan, surely that thing should have been sent to the scrapyard a long time ago.

Larissa turned on the engine which in turn turned on the radio, Lovesong by The Cure instantly filling the car. Larissa moved to turn it off but you quickly grabbed her arm to prevent her from doing so.

“Is it still your favourite?” She asked and you answered with a nod. Of course it was. It was the song Larissa used to introduce you to her favourite band.

Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am home again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am whole again

You looked through the window and bit on the inside of your cheeks. Everything about this song reminded you of her.

“Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am young again.” Larissa softly sang along to the lyrics. “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am fun again.”

Her fingers gently drummed on the steering wheel and your eyes drifted to her face, your heart swelling with yearning when you barely audibly whispered the next lyrics.

However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you

You sighed in relief when the song came to an end and Larissa parked the car outside the bar.

“I’ve been here a couple of times, it’s very cosy and usually not too noisy.” She said as she pulled the door to let you in.

The place was dimly lit, people sat in booths with seating made out of leather and velvet. There were mouldings on the ceiling and the wooden walls were covered in framed artwork. It felt chic, expensive and, you dared to think, a little romantic.

“Have a seat, darling.” Larissa said, her hand on the small of your back gently pushing you towards an empty booth.

“Do you remember the first time I had alcohol?” You asked her once you had settled down and the waiter had taken your order - a bottle of red, which Larissa picked, and an antipasti board to share.

“If I remember?” Larissa laughed and shook her head a little at the memory. “I felt guilty for weeks!”

It had been on your eighteenth birthday. The two of you had shared a glass of rosé and a piece of cheesecake that she’d bought from the Weathervane for the occasion. She’d made you swear that you wouldn’t tell anyone she had let you sip on her wine.

“Good thing I’m legally allowed to drink now, then.” You grinned when the waiter poured you a glass.

You weren’t sure wether it was a good thing or not, actually. Alcohol had a tendency to loosen your tongue, you had found out through the years, and you usually weren’t what they called a “happy” kind of drunk.

“To friendship that lasts, even after years apart!” Larissa smiled, raising her glass.

“To friendship.” You nodded and clinked your glass against hers. You would need more than wine if she used the word friendship again.

“So,” Larissa put her glass down after taking a sip. “Tell me everything, I want to know everything that you’ve done since graduating.”

So you told her. You told her about going to university and failing. Picking up another course only to realise mid-year that you didn’t like it. Twice. How you struggled to find your place, how nothing ever seemed to be distracting enough.

“What did you need to be distracted from?” Larissa suddenly cut you off, her chin resting on her hand as she listened to you.

You. I needed to be distracted from your memory. I needed to find something, anything to replace you. But to no avail. The heart wants what it wants, and mine wanted you, it still does.

“Who knows?” You shrugged and thanked the waiter who had just placed the food on the table.

“And now? Have you found what you were looking for?” Larissa asked, worry painted on her features. “I could always help if you need anything. You were a brilliant student, I’m sure I could find you a nice job if you let me give a couple of phone calls.”

Have I found what I was looking for?

“I go from job to job. It’s not as bad as it sounds. It gives me the opportunity to try many, many things.” You picked an olive from the board and popped it in your mouth, washing it down with a few sips of wine.

That’s when you noticed them, the two women sitting together in the booth at the back of the bar. One as young as you and the other one closer to Larissa’s age. They could have been mistaken for a mother and her daughter if it wasn’t for the fact that they had chosen to sit next to each other rather than one on each side of the table.

“Are you with me?” Larissa waved her hand in front of your face, your eyes immediately snapping back to hers.

She poured you another glass as well as one for herself and started talking again. You tried your best to listen to what she was saying, you really did, but after a few seconds, your attention was back on the two women across the room.

There they were, their hands gently intertwined, sharing soft laughters and stolen glances. Their connection was palpable, their love radiating like an aura around them. A pang of longing coursed through your body. How badly you yearned for something like this.

“Is everything alright?” Larissa’s hand was on yours now, her eyes searching for yours. “Why are you crying? You know that you can tell me anything.”

“Crying?” You repeated, your free hand moving to wipe your cheeks. When had tears started rolling down your face?

“Fuck, I can’t do this.” You said before emptying your glass and getting on your feet. You grabbed your jacket and pulled a few bills from its pocket, enough to pay for both Larissa and yourself.

“Wait-“ You heard the tall woman say but you were already on your way to the door.

Hot tears flooded your cheeks as you walked down the street, ignoring the tall woman calling your name a few feet behind you.

“For heaven’s sake!” Larissa grabbed your arm and yanked you back. “What is wrong with you?!”

“What is wrong with me?!” You laughed, tears still falling from your eyes. You needed to get away from her before your loosened tongue started saying things that you could never take back. “I’m going back to Nevermore, getting in my car and leaving this hell hole. Forever this time.”

If your words hurt Larissa, she didn’t let it show. Choosing instead to cup your face ever so gently. You had tried hating her, but how could you?

“Let me take you to a hotel. You will have a good night of sleep and we’ll talk in the morning. How does that sound?” She offered, her thumb caressing your cheek.

You silently nodded in agreement and Larissa pushed a small smile, her arm wrapping around your shoulder as she walked with you to the nearest hotel.

She took care of everything, booking the best room available and even paying for it. Asking the front desk to wake you up at nine the next morning.

“There you go.” She pushed the door to your room open and followed you inside. It was way too luxurious but you said nothing, grateful for everything she was still doing for you.

“Well, I should go back to Nevermore now.” Larissa said, hands clasped in front of her.

“Thank you.” It came out of your mouth as a whisper and you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around the tall woman again.

You held her close and tight as if it was the last time you would ever have the chance to hug her. And she held you back as close and as tight as you did as if it was the last time she would get the chance to hug you.

“No more tears.” She said when she eventually pulled away, holding onto your chin to look into your eyes. “There always is a solution, my darling, I promise. Whatever is bothering you now, we will find a way to fix it, together.”

Together. Surely that would fix you, you and her together.

Larissa’s lips pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before she wished you goodnight, reminding you to drink plenty of water to avoid a headache in the morning.

As soon as she was out of the room, you started sobbing again. You couldn’t help it, you had to get all of these feelings out or you would go crazy.

You fell asleep that night clutching onto the pair of leather gloves that Larissa had gifted you, holding them close against your chest hoping they would somehow soothe your aching heart.

————————————————————————

Tag list: @enchantressb @kimiinou

[razorblade180]

Clashing Feelings

With another day of training ready to wear out March’s muscles, the girl gladly took her time walking into the court yard. It was strength day with Yunli and that meant figurative and literal heavy lifting. To prolong meeting her master in Aurum Alley, she had told Yunli she had conventionally forgotten her blades; allowing her to walk back.

As March walked to the bench where they rested, her eyes honed in on Yanqing lying flat in the grass. An instinct took over and she ran over to find him completely conscious.

March:Master Ya- oh… you’re awake. Good! That’s good.

Yanqing:Forgot your swords?

March:You could say that. Master Yunli gave me an ear full. Uhh, why are you on the ground?

Yanqing:I’m organizing my very, very jumbled thoughts.

March:So you won’t be observing today with-

Yanqing:Pass

March:…Master Yunli really bothers you, doesn’t she?

Yanqing:She’s just so…annoying! Her remarks never let up! And don’t get me started on her attitude! I know I shouldn’t pay her any mind and yet…agh! *sits up* I’m not stupid! I’m well aware of my flaws in swordplay and I don’t need her pointing them out all the time. I mean would it kill her comment on my effort at least once!?

March:You want her to compliment you?

Yanqing:*red*That’s…not what I said! Not like her opinions should matter to begin with. I know I’m trying and so does the General; and yet…tsk! Why do I know her acknowledgement matters to me!? I-

March:Is this your first time having a crush?

The silence was loud. The boy pouted and sulked as he turned his head away.

Yanqing:That doesn’t properly describe the situation. Do you really think being around a girl my age would throw me out of sorts. Cut me some slack! I’m aware Yunli is a capable sword master. Frankly, she’s incredibly skilled. It’s hard not to admire that.

March:Yanqing, that’s still a crush.

Yanqing:Fine! *throws hands up* I have a crush on Yunli! Are you happy now!?

March:Haha, aww. Chin up okay? It’s perfectly normal for someone your age. Even adults get crushes; I’ve had my fair share. Unlike you though, I get along with them.

Yanqing:How so?

March:Well…*blushing* Let’s just say there’s a lot of truth opportunities to get to know each other on a deep level.

Yanqing:So what would you do in my situation.

March:Umm hehe, let’s not tackle it from that angle. If it’s advice you want then I think it’s better to let yourself feel everything you’re feeling. It’s confusing but important.

Yanqing:Are you saying I should say something to her?

March:Oh Aeons no! Somehow I feel like that would turn into another sword match.

Yanqing:That’s…an accurate assessment. *lays back down*

March:All I mean is don’t try do or act in ways that reject those feelings. No running from her or saying things you don’t actually mean. Believe me, it’s embarrassing. As for acknowledgement, I can’t say if this is her thought process, but whenever Dan Heng or Mr. Yang are strict with me I know it’s because they believe I can do better. You’re the young prodigy and lieutenant of General Jing Yuan. There’s no way she doesn’t think you’re not talented. Believe in yourself more instead of the flaws.

Yanqing:..I can try. Thanks, seriously.

March:See? Talking and feeling the emotions is so much better!

Yanqing:This conversation remains private.

March:Who do you take me for!? Not only am I good student, but a quality friend and trustworthy girl. It’s not cute to spill secrets.

Yanqing:Heh, I’ll take your word for it. But as for a good student…maybe say that when you aren’t late for a session.

March:gasp You’re right! I gotta go! Bye master!

She grabbed her blades and ran off. Hopefully Yunli wouldn’t be too mad. March expected the courtyard and immediately stopped did in her tracks when her head looked left. Right outside the entrance, Yunli leaned against the stone archway. Her arms were crossed and her face a mixture of pensive and pouty. She locked eyes silently before standing up properly and walking back to the alley. March quietly followed clos behind.

March:Sooooooo, what brings you back over here?

Yunli:Oh I don’t know. Perhaps it was student taking exceptionally long for unknown reasons? Next time, don’t drag your feet longer than someone’s patience.

March:H-How long were you waiting there?

Yunli:Long enough.

March:(I’m so sorry Yanqing!!!) Then-

Yunli:If you’re asking for my thoughts then don’t bother. Nothing much to say. Only a moron would gain such a mess of thoughts in the short time of a few weeks.

March:Hey. Don’t you think that’s a bit too mean to-

March stopped herself short. It wasn’t instant, but her master’s ears gradually began to become a dark red that was hard not to notice. She couldn’t help but smile.

March:Ah~ fair enough. I guess it’s a little moronic, but nonetheless sweet. Hehehe.

Yunli:I’m doubling your weight today.

March:Yes ma’am! Let’s both do our best!

Yunli:Hush!

[scapingthebottomofthebarrel]

Potions Mix Up (Neville Longbottom x Reader)

The request: In Potions class, the Reader accidentally brew a love potion, but instead of it working on someone else, it reveals Neville's hidden feelings for the Reader

You sit ramrod straight in your seat as Snape slowly makes his way around the classroom handing back your latest assignment. You’ve always done alright in potions, but Snape never gets any less unnerving. You hold your breath as he sets the scroll down in front of you. You decide not to check your grade until you’re in the safety of your dorm. The second the bell rings your out of your seat and make your way to the nearest court yard to breathe some fresh air after all that time in the dungeons.

“Will Snape ever not be terrifying?” You friend sighs from her spot next to you on the grass. You let out a small grunt and flip back onto the ground

“Thank Merlin we’re done and it’s Friday.” You say happily.

“Yeah, and it’s a Hogsmeade weekend!” She cheers. “What do you think yo-“ she cuts herself off with a gasp as a tall body topples over and lands directly on top of you. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you let out a squeak. The person immediately scrambles off of you.

“I am so sorry!” A voice that you’d recognize anywhere rushes out.

“It’s alright Neville. No harm no foul.” You say with a wide smile. Neville Longbottom has got the be the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. Since you were made partners in charms last year you two had grown incredibly close.

“Seamus pushed me.” He says just loud enough that the other boy who was laughing like a mad man with Dean over on a bench would hear.

“Now why on earth would he do that?” You say just as loud.

“Cause our darling Neville was waxing poetic about-“ a look you didn’t think Neville could give crossed his face and Seamus instantly shut up.

“I’ll uhh I’ll send you umm later.” Neville says as he stand up and gives you a nervous smile.

Once the three of them are out of earshot your friend gives you the same smile all your friends do after you interact with Neville. “Promise me a good seat at your wedding.” Is all she says before standing up. “Come on, we need to go turn in our extra credit to Flitwick before we forget.” You can’t help the small smile on your face as you follow her back into the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday rolls around far too fast and you find yourself back in potions class. Snape is explaining the importance of carefully examining your ingredients to get the potion right. You diligently take notes out of fear of your professor. “Alright. Now, go to your cauldrons and start the potion on page 376.” Snape says flatly before turning away and walking to his desk. Everyone quickly gets to work. Your partner goes to get the ingredients while you prepare the cauldron.

After two hours you find yourself looking at a potion that is most definitely not the assignment. “I don’t know how you did it, you seemingly followed the instructions but with the wrong ingredients and ended up with amortentia.” Snap says with the faintest hint of surprise in his voice. Your face feels hot under the stares of your classmates. Note to self, never let you or partner get the ingredients again. Snape shakes his head and mutters under his breath as he walks away.

“I’ve done far worse. At least you have a functioning potion.” Neville says coming to stand next to you. You give him a small smile.

“Wanna smell it?” You joke. Neville looks nervous but shrugs and takes a sniff. His expression goes flat and the tips of his ears turn red. “You ok Neville?” You ask curious as to what smell is causing this reaction.

“I’m fine.” He squeaks out before returning to his seat.

Your friend makes eye contact with you from their seat two tables away and mouths “Mrs. Longbottom.” All you can do is blush and look away.

Before Snape can take the potions at the end of class you and your friends sniff it. You’re not sure why you did it as you already knew what it would smell like. As you leave the dungeon you and your friends are discussing what you smelled.

“You know what we should do?” One of your friends says excitedly. “We should give some to George Weasley. I know how cute you think he is and I’ve seen him looking at you.” As you roll your eyes getting ready to tell your friend to knock it off you hear a thud behind you. You all turn around to see Neville frantically trying to pick his things up

“You guys go ahead.” You tell your friends before going and helping Neville collect his things off the ground.

“Umm th-thank you.” He mumbles out.

“Of course.” You give him a soft smile as you hand him a book. “So…you never said what the potion sme-“

“You’re not really going to use it on George are you?” He asks in what seems to be a moment of courage. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to eavesdrop it’s just well I umm-“ You decide to put Neville out of his misery and shake your head.

“My friends are just being ridiculous. We would never do that. Besides, they already know who I like.” You give Neville a meaningful look as if you’re trying to communicate with him telepathically.

“Oh. Right. Of course. Thanks for the help.” He’s practically running away before you can say anything else. You heave a sigh before picking up your own bag and going to find your friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re sitting at lunch the next day when you feel a tap on your shoulder and your friends look ready to explode. When you turn to see who it is you’re treated by the extremely red face of Neville. All he does is hand you a small box before speed walking away to a cheering Seamus and Dean.

“Open it! Open it!” Your friends whisper scream at you. You slowly take the lid off the box and inside is a small plant and a note.

I’m not sure I could say this to your face so I hope this will suffice. I can’t stay quiet anymore. The thought of you trying to go out with George Weasley made me sick to my stomach. Not because George is a bad guy, but because I want to be the one to take you out. Would you go out with me?

All your friends begin cooing and awwing.

“They would love you!” One of them shouts at Neville. He looks startled and looks to you for confirmation. You nod a blushing mess and smile broadly. Seamus and Dean start shaking him and letting out their own cheers.

[caeli0306]

chapter 17 of castles crumbling (aka Tales from the Airport Bathroom extended version) now posted!

Chapter 17: Challenge is now up on AO3: READ HERE

WE ARE BACK! Hopefully with the election behind us and a lot of PTO coming up for thanksgiving and Christmas, I'll have a little more time to write in the coming weeks! I really want to get to the chapter 20 mark by the end of the year, which I think is doable. anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

Summary:

Violet should already be dead. People whispered about her weak body and how she would never live up to her family's martial accomplishments. Violet rose above them all, however, fighting and killing to survive the Navarrian Intelligence Agency's brutal BASGIATH training protocol. Now, people whisper about Violet's swift ascension through the NIA's ranks as one of its most valuable operatives and assassins. The whispers don't matter to Violet: She has her own agenda, and it's a dangerous one - finding out what happened to her father.

But one mission changes everything: Suddenly, Violet finds herself in the crosshairs when she stumbles on information Navarre wants buried, and the country she fought for begins to turn on her. Violet knows too much, but she's determined to do what she does best: Survive. Her only hope is the son of the man who they say killed her brother, but their partnership is far from assured. Some grudges run deep, and trust is a currency too valuable to give freely. Xaden realizes Violet may be the key to everything, but with enemies seen and unseen closing in on all sides, the consequences of failure are deadly.

===

“Still can’t beat me,” I tease, stepping back onto the mat. Liam merely rolls his eyes, then looks past me to where Xaden is lurking a few yards away. He still hasn’t spoken a word since I emerged after the conversation with my mother. I still don’t fully understand why he’s here.

“Are you going to throw, or are you going to keep hanging around silently like a fucking weirdo?” Liam asks him pointedly.

Xaden glares at the blonde, and I choke down the laugh that wants to escape my chest with a hasty cough.

At first, I think he’s going to ignore Liam and keep on with whatever the hell it is he’s doing, but he surprises me by pushing back against the wall he’s leaning against and walking towards us.

He extends a hand towards me, silently beckoning with his fingers. I raise an eyebrow, then tug two daggers from the sheathes along my ribs and handing them to him without a word. His palm brushes against mine as he takes them from me, but instead of looking at them, he’s looking at me. I can’t bring myself to look away.

I look away a half-second later than I probably should have. “Let’s see if you can beat me,” I say, gesturing to the target where the daggers I threw remain embedded in the center. I tilt my head and smirk as I look back to Xaden. “Don’t be too upset if you can’t.”

Xaden’s expression earlier was closed-off and somewhat angry. Now, it morphs into something more familiar, a smirk that matches mine curving his lips.

“Don’t be too upset when I win, Violence,” he says, his first words to me today. I scoff, but move out of the way and off the mat to give him room to throw. He moves to stand where I stood, and I take up a spot to Liam’s left.

[lilobsession]

Trixya fanfiction. F/F

1,890 words (friends to lovers, deep connection, intimacy, fluff, funny).

Caution: mention of alcohol use (very slightly, as a matter of fact, it happened already) and smoking.

Summary: Trixie’s head is spinning, and not just from the drinks. Tonight, everything is supposed to change - but instead, she’s stumbling through a blur of voices, faces, and a growing sense of panic. When she finally finds her girlfriend, Katya, in the quiet of the backyard, the last thing she expects is for everything to suddenly click into place.

Trixie’s walking is unstable. Her mind? Worse. Because tonight isn’t just any party. It’s the night she was supposed to tell them. Them – her friends, her family, her whole goddamn world. But now they’re all staring at her like they already know. Every drag queen she knows at this party is acting weird. It feels like her whole small world tightened to strangle her. She’s lost, and she just wants someone to tell her what’s wrong. That’s how she ended up here. In this never-ending corridor she can’t seem to escape. Family photos in the frames on the walls are a complete blur, except for the big-ass smiles she can see on the faces she cannot recognize right now. It was the moment she decided—no more alcohol in this lifetime. But now, she is crawling through the crowd at the party she was invited to as her girlfriend's "bring a friend with you." Damn it.

Her chest tightens. She can feel eyes on her, even though she can’t tell where they’re coming from. Every voice, every laugh, cuts through her, like she’s drowning in it. Like they are judging her, not only for being that drunk but also for having been that stupid to push back her friend for years. And now she can't even yell, "Look, we finally got there! She is mine!" So, she is still officially a stupid ass for her friends and the villain of this one-way love story they were developing. Plot twist, suckers. Except everybody acts like they know something she doesn't, too.

Where is Katya? She needs to find Katya. Katya is going to fix this. She fixes everything, every time, no matter how hard Trixie fucked up. It's funny everybody thinks that her girlfriend is the troubled one. Well, objectively—yes. That's probably why she deals with Trixie's and her own emotions so well and doesn't panic. Meanwhile, Trixie has panic attacks on a regular basis. She swears she’ll have a panic attack any minute if she doesn’t find Katya. Focus. Focus on the road. Who let Katya disappear like this?

She knows Katya left her with their friends, convinced of Trixie's absolute safety, but it's been ten whole minutes since she was gone. Too much. Her hands start to shake. Her vision blurs. She can't deal with this right now. Even though she knows she is overreacting, her dizziness makes her feel helpless and lonelier than usual. Anyway, there must be a door to the backyard. She tries hard to think clearly, and it makes her headache worse. Okay. Backyard. In the backyard must be her girl.

Trixie is in the middle of a kitchen full of unknown figures. Everybody's so goddamn bright and colorful. She takes her time to see through them, to finally catch a door in her side-eye. She doesn't bother pushing people out of her way; they don't even seem to care. They keep talking, too loud for Trixie's taste. The second she reaches the door, she jumps out in excitement at the fresh air. The sudden change in temperature sends shock signals straight to her brain, immediately sobering her a little bit.

She spots a flash of red leather at the far end of the yard. She heads there, snuggling into her coat. She hopes it's her coat. She has no idea. It was on the couch, and she thought she might need it later. Katya is a smoker, and she disappeared. Simple math, right?

The backyard is almost empty. Or maybe it’s just the dark of the night playing tricks on her. But there’s Katya – just Katya. It makes her think about the recent article she read. It said stars would be incredibly visible on this exact night. She is curious, but unfortunately, she can't check. Turning her head up might be the death of her. The world is spinning and shit. At this point, she would lose her gravity—the thought alone makes her nauseous.

Katya is smoking. Her eyes focus on Trixie the moment she opens the door, following her walk with caution, like she is holding herself back from running with open arms toward her. Trixie can see Katya's arms flick with every step she's taking. She almost chuckles at how she must look to people around her.

"Jeez, slow down, princess." Katya's face lights up with a smile that reminds Trixie of the cat's smile from Alice in Wonderland—like she is observing the funniest and cutest little thing she's ever seen.

Trixie smiles proudly. That's her girlfriend, and she likes Trixie. Very, very much. Not like her friend, but like her lover. They did it. Gosh, they really did it. She reaches out to her girlfriend, making the last steps toward her. Katya's hands catch her halfway through, preventing her from falling. Trixie's head falls on Katya's shoulder. She inhales loudly. Katya smells like cigarettes, like her muscular but sweet perfume, like her mint shampoo. And she can't help but sink deeper into the red leather, fully losing herself in that sensation. Katya's silence and hands around her waist don't help either. She wishes she could stay in that feeling of Katya forever.

"Have you done smoking?" Trixie asks, mumbling into Katya's shoulder.

"Just one more minute, baby. I'll take you home after," Katya answers in a raspy voice. Her hold tightens on Trixie's waist.

Trixie straightens herself but keeps the short distance. Katya's eyes follow her again, now watching her reach out for the cigarette between her fingers. Katya is surprised by the move but doesn't show it, almost helping Trixie place the cigarette into her own fingers. But that's not what Trixie wants. Instead, Trixie firmly grasps Katya's wrist. Their eyes lock together as Trixie inhales a smoke from the tiny remainder of the cigarette Katya's been smoking. Katya's fingers are dangerously close to Trixie's lips. She exhales into the sky, barely focusing on the stars spreading before her vision. Yeah. Bright, as she thought.

She smiles frankly, her eyes back on Katya's, who seems deeply in her own head. Still observing her.

“Thanks, babe.” Trixie says, her voice teasing. She knows damn well there’s nothing left for Katya to smoke.

Before Katya could answer, Trixie leans in for a quick kiss. She wants to touch and touch and touch. She pulls away with a loud smack, watching Katya's lips form a grin. All the sensations sharpened by alcohol in her body, and she can't help but lean into a hug again. Closer, tighter. She wants to smell Katya, feel Katya, love Katya.

Her sweet dreams are interrupted by Katya's uncontrollable wheezing. She laughs with her whole body, and Trixie immediately distances herself.

"I mean, I know I can be a little too much sometimes, but have you seen yourself?" she starts softly. Katya's joy seems to level up at this sentence, so Trixie follows up with offense: "Sorry I can't stay away from you, but can you stop laughing at me? Oh my God."

"You won't believe how drunk you were," Katya finally answers, wiping tears from the corners of her blue eyes.

Katya distances herself even more, letting Trixie's waist out of her grip. It confuses Trixie. What is going on? She might get really offended if not for yesterday. Yesterday was very real, and there is no way her feelings are one-sided. There is no way Katya would make her believe that ever again. Trixie might be the one who pushed Katya away from the very beginning, but Katya is the one who hid her real desires for a long time. She had a reason, though, and Trixie will never forgive herself for it—even if Katya already did.

Trixie rolls her eyes, leaning into Katya’s ear. "Don't play with me, Katya. I might be drunk, but I can still see through you. Hug me, or I swear to God..." She doesn't finish. She is pretty sure she just heard somebody coughing in the back. The realization hits her. "Oh my God, are they all here?"

Katya scratches her nose awkwardly, trying to hide her smile. She just nods. Trixie's eyes widen. She can feel an "Oh, there ain’t no other way!" joke on the tip of her tongue. She used to laugh out every situationship they had, and they are not coming back. Besides, they probably heard and saw enough. Besides, Trixie doesn't care. Besides, Katya was the one who wanted to tell their friends straight away, but Trixie asked to wait until they finished their project together. "Don't date your colleague" type of bullshit she cared for. It was something she used to be afraid of – letting everyone see just how much she cared, just how long it took her to stop running. But that fear died the second they got together, replaced by something softer, steadier: trust in Katya.

She whines – too many thoughts. She feels even more lightheaded than a second ago.

"Katya," she simply says, softly. "Take me home." Even softer. "I can't deal with it today." Defeated.

Katya giggles, and Trixie can feel herself smiling, too. Katya finally takes hold of her hand and starts to guide her to the door. As she turns to the front of the yard, Trixie can see probably all their friends standing there with the naughtiest and most mysterious smiles on their faces. She whines loudly, seeing every fucking friend of theirs who was at the party—now in the backyard. How lucky are they? Jeez.

The crowd seems to unfreeze, like they weren't allowed to be noisy, like they came here just to watch a scene in silence, to watch girls being madly in love with each other. And then they suddenly are alive again, mumbling loudly about something that Trixie cannot hear. Too many voices covering each other. She is confused and might be drunk, but she can clearly see some people high-fiving. She can see Bianca giving five dollars to Bob. Jinkx smiling at them like she saw that coming. Wait. Stop. Money? Did they bet on them? She frowns, looking for the answer in Katya's reaction. Katya’s smile is a little too knowing, like she was in on some joke Trixie hadn’t caught up to yet. It tells her she is the only one who didn't know about this whole thing of why-is-nobody-actually-surprised.

“I mean, duh!” Bianca cheers them with a bear. “Please don’t fuck each other like that in public ever again. We’ve seen it before, and it’s getting worse every day.” Regardless of what she is saying, her voice and eyes stay gentle the whole time.

Everybody’s giggling, and that’s the puzzle-pieces-made-a-picture moment for her. Their weird behavior finally makes sense. She tells Katya with her eyes only that Katya is in trouble for that. And Katya answers her with a wide smile. Katya feels so happy. So happy, she is glowing like the stars in the night sky Trixie observed earlier. She can't help but feel pure happiness, too. Maybe Katya always knew it would end like this—with everyone watching, with no fear left to hide. And maybe Trixie’s just realizing now that she was always ready, too.

Hi, balds! I’m Jules, and I really hope you enjoyed this small piece of my craft.

⋆ I’m considering turning it into a full-length story, so please let me know if you’d be interested in that! ⋆

You can find me and this work on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilObsession/pseuds/LilObsession

[chil-aglia]

For The Bad Things Happen Bingo Card:

Bingo Slot: Cabin Fever

Character: Adriaen

Plot: Basically Adriaen and the other turtles go on a little mini vacation together to a cabin in the woods to relax after a few hard missions, but after a few days of being there some weird stuff starts to happen (almost like the cabin that they’re staying in is haunted), and eventually everyone realizes that they’re being stalked by this Wendigo-like creature and Adriaen tries to kill the creature but it doesn’t work and he and the others have to try and leave the cabin without getting hurt or killed by the wendigo creature.

This will be marked off as ‘Cabin Fever’ as that is the main focus!

Honestly cabin fever was hard. And I still feel like I didn’t do it justice. Sorry about that y’all

Hope you enjoy this! And sorry for any grammar errors made!

@badthingshappenbingo

Link to the fic on Ao3: Do you see what I see? - Chilaglia - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

——————————————————————————————————

Do you see what I see?

Quick note: This is not canon to the main story of Collide. And I made some little changes, so instead of a cabin it’s the farmhouse from April’s family.

Bingo slot: Cabin Fever

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles + my OC’s

Warnings; Stalking/being stalked by a creature, horror elements (kinda?), cabin fever, anxiousness, haunted/paranormal activity, implied hallucination, etc

Summary: They just wanted a place to relax. So, April offered them the farmhouse for the week. All was fine until strange things began happening. Not to mention, a creature that should not exist is stalking them.

——————————————————————————————————

They deserved the peace and quiet lately, after countless hours of fighting mutants that wanted them all dead, the boys deserved a get away from the sewers.

Which is why April came to the conclusion of letting them stay over the week at her family barn deep in the woods away from civilians and the noisy streets of New York.

It was perfect. Splinter was going to get some peace from the rowdy turtles since he was going to stay at the lair, and April was letting the boys stay without her at the barn so long as they cleaned the place.

It was a good deal. Everyone packed their belongings, and April drove the boys to the home.

-----

“Don’t break anything!” April calls out, waving her arm at them as she backs out the driveway in her parents' minivan.

She gave a final goodbye air kiss before forcing down the road and out of sight. Leo whoops, “Dibs on the master bedroom!” He laughs racing inside with his brothers hot on his trail.

Adriaen hung back, picking up his mini suitcase he brought along with him for the week. He entered the house and quietly observed it. It was a cute place he won’t lie, very homey.

It was old, the way the floorboards creaked every now and then. But he couldn’t control that. It was still a lovely home regardless. He couldn’t control the rowdiness upstairs from the brothers, making him shake his head. Putting down his suitcase on the couch nearby as he walks around to inspect the place further.

Kitchen over here…living room over there. Downstairs bathroom to the left…

He takes mental notes on where everything was. It wasn’t an entirely big house, but big enough for a family of at least 4 or 5.

The bedrooms were upstairs, but he’ll go check them out later. He made his way to the kitchen, looking out the window, it was a big yard, no fences or anything of the sorts, and it led directly into the woods.

If he recalled correctly, April told them on the drive here that there was a lake nearby that they could go swimming in.

“Adri! Save me!” Leo suddenly calls out, running into the kitchen and twirling Adriaen around to hide behind him as Donnie, Mikey and Raph had been chasing the slider. What for? He didn’t know. And he didn’t think he’d want to know.

“Guys calm down. We can’t break anything in this house.” He scolded them like a mother would, which seemed to have the boys deflated but calmed down.

“Fine, but to make things fair I say we each pick out a stick. Longest one gets the master bedroom.” Donnie suggests, earning groans from his brothers but an approving hum from Adriaen.

-----

It had been 4 days so far since their arrival. Adriaen had got the longest stick, so he was staying in the master bedroom, Leo in the next room, Donnie across from Leo and Mikey and Raph bunking together in the room to the right of Donnie.

For the 4 days that they have been at the barn, they have done mostly exploring, even finding the lake and taking a few swimming trips to cool off. But everyone was each doing their own thing. Adriaen currently sat at the windowsill in his temporary room, looking outside calmly as he had his headphones on, listening to a music playlist Leo made for him long ago.

Mikey and Raph were outside playing some sort of tagging game. Donnie and Leo were somewhere around the house.

Adriaen softly sighs, turning his gaze away from Mikey and Raph to glance into the woods. Honestly he found the wild to be a little…creepy. But that was probably just the domesticated sewer life turtle nature in him giving him such an eerie feeling of the woods.

Adriaen was about to look away until he saw movement in the bushes. He narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly against the window to try and see better.

It was hard to make out, but it was a creature, with large horns and glowing white eyes that had Adriaen shudder.

He blinked once and it was gone.

“What the….?” He mumbled to himself, observing the woods but saw no sign of the creature. Mikey and Raph didn’t seem to notice it either.

“It’s just the forest playing tricks on you.”

He turns away to lay down on the bed instead.

-----

From the moment he saw that strange creature in the woods, Adriaen couldn’t help but be on guard, and became suspicious of everything. Jumping at the slightest noises and creaks the house made.

At one point he came into the kitchen to see the cupboards all open, which was strange itself considering he had only been gone for a few minutes, and remembered that everything was shut.

It had become night, with him and the boys staying up downstairs watching TV. But Adriaen wasn’t listening or watching the show, his eyes were darting around the place.

“Adri, are you okay? You’re looking like something might jump out and take you.” Mikey noted, gazing up at Adriaen as he was sitting on the floor with Donnie next to him. Leo was sitting on a single couch while Raph and Adriaen shared the larger couch.

“What? Yeah, no, I’m okay…I think.” He waved him off, inhaling some much needed air as he remained high on alert. Leo raised an invisible brow at his crush's behaviour.

“All right, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Your leg is bouncing which is what you do when you're anxious.”

Leo smirks, knowing he got Adriaen there with the way the mutant tenses and grumbles with a small glare.

“I guess…I don’t know. Don’t you guys feel off? Like there’s something in this house? Or that you’re being watched from the forest?”

Donnie hums in acknowledgement, “What, like, paranoia? I don’t see how we’d be feeling like that. Did something happen?” He inquired, his own curiosity perking up as Adriaen shrugs his shoulders.

“I thought…I saw something outside when Mikey and Raph were playing their game. And then when I was in the kitchen and left for a moment to grab my phone, the cupboards were all open.” He explains the mess that he was experiencing, shaking his head with a heavy exhale.

“Maybe I’m just missing home?”

Raph nervously fiddled with his fingers, “Actually, Raph’s been feeling sort of the same. Earlier when I was out gathering some wood, I thought I saw something in the corner of my eye.”

Leo sweats a bit anxiously, but keeps a brave face. “Like what?” He questions, waiting for Raph to answer, the mutant gulping and shuddering. “I don’t know exactly. But it was big and had horns and white eyes.” He recalled, flinching when Adriaen stood up from the couch, his eyes widening at him.

“That’s…what I saw too.”

An eerie silence fell upon everyone, Mikey whimpering as he tucked his head into his shell slightly. “Uh…movie night some other time?” He suggests, the others nodding and murmuring as they switch the TV off and one by one went upstairs.

Adriaen pauses, a chill running down his carapace as he looks out towards the window, for a moment, he thought he was being watched again. In a hurry he went upstairs to the bedroom.

-----

“AHH!”

Adriaen awoke with a startle, the shouting of Mikey waking him up in the middle of the night as he jumps out the bed and swung open the door, the others doing the same as they see Mikey at the bottom of the stairs, trembling as he was backed against the wall, looking like he saw something terrifying.

“Mikey?! What’s wrong? What happened?!” Raph immediately interrogated as the box turtle mutant breathed heavily, “I-it’s in the house…” He stuttered, his tone low and fearful. “What’s in the house?” Leo asks, sweating as they all one by one head downstairs to comfort Mikey who flinched.

“The thing…that Raph and Adriaen talked about. I-I saw it in the kitchen!”

Before anyone could say anything, a loud, powerful and eerie like whistle that reminded Adriaen of what an elk sounded like, rumbled in the house, the boys placing their hands over their heads to block it out as much as they could.

When the noise died down, the air itself felt suffocating as they heard hooves coming closer and closer. A low growl as a tall shadowy figure emerges from the archway from the kitchen.

“Holy fuck….” Leo gasps out, staring wide eyed at the creature. Adriaen pales at the sight. The creature smelt of rotten flesh, eyes glowing white as it stared. Body covered in black fur with large antlers standing tall and proud on its head.

Its long arms and legs had overgrown claws.

“Is that a yokai?!” Raph shouted, while Donnie quickly looked up something on his gauntlet, “F-from the looks of it…it’s a Wendigo!” He exclaims, yelling when the Wendigo charges at them, the turtles quickly dodging and dispersing into groups.

Leo, Donnie and Adriaen on the left. Mikey and Raph to the right. The Wendigo crashes into the wall, turning its head towards Adriaen’s group as it opens its mouth and lets out that screeching elk whistle.

”Don’t let it touch you! It’s said that the Wendigo possesses humans and turns them into cannibals.” Donnie informs, jumping back in fright when the extended class almost grazed his skin.

“But we’re not humans!”

Adriaen clicked his tongue, sweating as he ducks down from almost getting hit. “To the basement now!” He orders, shoving Leo into a run as the slider was quick to race off.

His brothers followed as Adriaen kept an eye on the Wendigo that would sometimes just stare and watch like a soulless monster.

Fuck this is crazy!

He runs after the others, skidding to a stop when Leo found the hatch for the basement and opens it, Adriaen holds the door open as he ushered for them to get in, the Wendigo screeched briefly and ran at them.

“Fuck!” Adriaen hisses, kicking Raph down in the basement when he was the last one in. “Adri? Adriaen what are you—?!” Leo began to call out but was cut off when Adriaen closed the hatch door, turning around and yelling when he was pinned down by the Wendigo’s sharp nails on its toes.

Leo and the others pound on the door and their voices muffled. Adriaen stills, he felt like he couldn’t breathe as he watched the Wendigo raise its hand up, its nails glistening briefly from the moonlight.

It was going to strike down at Adriaen.

He was frozen in place; he flinched and closed his eyes when the creature lunged down at him.

He expected to be met with pain. But when nothing happened, he slowly and hesitantly opened his eyes, his breathing rising up and down rapidly from adrenaline as the Wendigo was no longer in sight.

“What the hell?”

He shakily stands up. His knees almost buckled but he looked around for a sign of the intruder. The basement door opens as the brothers cross around Adriaen, each asking what had happened, why did he leave them down there, where’s the creature.

“It’s gone…” He muttered, blankly staring ahead as the boys shared an uncertain look. “I think we should call April. Let her come and get us.” Raph suggests, instantly being met with agreements.

Adriaen could feel his heart thumping against his chest. Was he going crazy?

Was this all a hallucination?

He shakes his head. He was never going to be comfortable in the woods again after this.

Could…could this have been a state of cabin fever? He’s heard of it before and what it can do to people. He also realised that during the few days he’s been here, he actually never went outside.

Leo placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Giving a strained smile. “Let’s go sit on the couch, okay?” He advises, leading Adriaen towards the living room.

Yeah…he was never coming back here again. He’s sticking to the sewer life from now on.

——————————————————————————————————

Bad things happen bingo (OPEN)

[lamportb]

The stitch up

Finally have a minute to re watch episode 4. Rambling below

Love Fagin and Jack covered in viscera in Gaines’ carriage with his wife. “My colleague and I were burying a cadaver” A+ excuse Jack, totally explains why you aren’t wearing pants.

I didn’t notice just how clear it is that Lady Jane is the real governor of the colony. Don’t love her as an obstacle to true love, but I Stan a powerful smart lady.

Hetty is a queen. “All right! Time to check your rose bushes” while she makes the rounds in the brothel, then single handedly loads Rotty in a cart to haul her to the hospital. Also ignores Sneed and gets Jack when it’s clear the first surgery didn’t work.

When Belle goes to observe the surgery Sneed suggests that the surgical theatre is too gory for her and that she should read to the patients instead “some of them can barely read”. Cue pointed look at Jack. I didn’t pick up on this the first time.

Belle also tells Jack that her father paid for Sneed’s medical training! Talk about having connections.

Jack is soooo baby soft when Belle offers to help him. His eyes change. It’s perfection.

despite hating Jack, Sneed still defends him when Gaines is looking for reasons to arrest him. More reason I love that pompous git.

Seriously, there’s not a filler scene anywhere in this series.

Gaines trashes Jack’s room and threatens him with handing and/or flogging to death. Jack has JUST had this very hopeful conversation with Belle and here he is on his bed holding the trampled remains of his signature top hat - the Dodge dilemma. How can he hang it up permanently, and does he want to?

“sniffly Sneed” 😂

dodger hat back on when sneaking around the governor’s yard to find Belle. “We don’t pay for cadavers. We just… borrow them”

11 o’clock cadaver date is the hottest thing Belle has ever heard.

I love Tim and I love how he loves Red.

Fanny is so excited by the idea that Sneed’s medical knowledge will make him a good lover. Yeah…

Jack the savant surgeon - eyes closed in concentration. Lovely.

Jack is illiterate clue 2: he is so unsettled at the idea of being found out he just nopes himself right out of the situation and leaves Belle in the operating theatre at presumably midnight or later. Lol.

“the white ghost who’s close to his grave” should be my new tag for Fagin

Red is so fucking cool

Feels like a very deliberate choice for Belle to let her hair down when she joins Jack in the surgery. Maybe because of the conversation with Fanny about going for it? (Finding love with Sneed?). Also how did Belle know to be there? Tim says they can do the second surgery because Sneed left the hospital. Did Jack just have her hiding on standby? Was it a coincidence? I don’t care - she looks gorgeous.

lots has already been mentioned about the Hetty/Jack/Belle situation but I appreciate the framing of this scene with the three of them - both women assisting in their own way, and both necessary to Jack’s success.

Belle seems genuinely taken aback when Jack is so abrupt with her when the surgery starts, but her relief when she helps him in the end and he smiles at her is so sweet. She is basking in that smile - I don’t think I realized how fast she fell for him. (Of course they start arguing about publication and the moment passes)

“I shall be turned around as a curiosity” - some more insight into Jack’s insecurities.

Lady Jane: “Have you been alone with the surgeon?” Belle: “There’s always another body in the room” 😂

What time is this dinner starting? 2pm? It’s so bright!

love Sneed and the prof arriving in a carriage while Jack walks up in his Navy uniform.

Note to self: research the siege of Sevastopol.

Ah! Jack describes his time as a naval surgeon as “nothing more than butchery” to Lady Jane. Those words sting all the more when she uses them against him later.

Fanny and Belle are both terrible at flirting. Belle can’t stop interrupting to talk up Jack and Fanny can’t stop staring. “I love soup”

I also love how Jack is SO UNCOMFORTABLE with Belle praising him at the table. She’s not lying, but her embellishments are so unnerving to him. “Really, it’s nothing” - but she just. Can’t. Stop.

Jack really is trying. He takes responsibility for Fagin not knowing what the plan is. He tries to fit in. Seems a bit harsh to snap at Belle but she was terrible at reading his cues - like this is her surgical theatre and he has to defer to her expertise. It’s too vulnerable for him.

“I AM rare!” Have i mentioned how much I love the ladies in this show??

Jack’s little voice crack when he blurts out “I CAN read!” And then a little softer “I can read, just not very well”

All her talk of teams and partnerships - she really did bet on him. All in.

”You can take the boy out of East London but you really shouldn’t”

”Belle will never speak to me again” right before taking Fagin’s share of the money and heading to the card table

whew! Gold star if you got this far.

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

Reminders of Her -Sashnetra (Part 2/3)

From the poll I posted a couple days ago, this is now going to be split into three parts instead of two! Here's part one if you missed it.

Thank you to @puppywritesthings for being my temporary beta for this chapter

read on ao3

Sasha didn’t see Anetra in class for the first few weeks. Instead, a tall blonde named Marcia brought Jace to and from class. Sasha assumed that Marcia was Jace’s other parent, while Anetra would be busy with work and unable to take him. 

At the end of the class, all the parents lined up in the studio behind their respective children. Sasha held a stack of papers and placed them on the fold-out table her teaching assistant had set up. 

“We’re having our photographer come in next week and take pictures for our programming. So I need parents to sign these releases so he can take pictures of the kids,” she explained as the parents started filling out their paperwork.

Except for Marcia and Jace, they stayed put where they both stood. Jace looked up at Marcia, and they shrugged “I’ll talk to her about it. Maybe she’ll let us take it home for your mom to sign.”  they said to reassure him. 

Sasha walked over to them with a copy of the release in her hand, “Did you not want to sign this? If not, it’s not going to upset me or anything.” she said.

“Oh, I would love to, but I can’t. I’m not a parent or guardian,” they explained. They looked at Jace, “Why don’t you wait in the lobby while I talk to your teacher?” 

Jace nodded, “Okay, Auntie Marsh.” he said before walking out of the studio to sit on the bench near the door. 

Marcia turned their attention back to Sasha, “Anetra has been a single mom since Jace was born. We’ve been close friends for years, and I’m just trying to help her whenever I can.” they explained. 

“Really? I didn’t know that.” Sasha said, her tone softening. She’s seen single parents struggle to balance everything outside the dance classes. “Could she come in any other time? I’d love to tell her how well her son is doing in class.” she smiled, glancing at the curly-haired boy in the lobby. 

Marcia nodded, but their eyes seemed apprehensive. “I can ask her tonight, no problem.”

As Sasha greeted parents and kids coming in for the pre-ballet class, she felt her heartbeat quicken when she saw Anetra walk in alongside Marcia and Jace. She hoped that this might mean she would get to see Anetra more often.

“You needed me to sign something?” Anetra asked her, eyes looking anywhere except in Sasha’s.

“I do. Would you like to stay for the rest of the class to watch? I’m sure Jace would love to show you what he’s learned.”

Anetra took a deep breath, “Of course I can.”

During the class, Sasha stole glances toward the observation room to seek any look she could get at Anetra. She noticed that Anetra’s eyes never left Jace during the class. Towards the end, she and Marcia looked at each other, and both smiled at the woman enjoying watching her son dance.

Sasha just remembered about the photographer in the studio with them when it was time for the group class photos. Once the children were allowed to break apart from being lined up for the posed group photo, they ran to their parents. 

Anetra was kneeling as Jace ran into her open arms, “You did so good, J. I’m proud of you.” she said as she ran a hand through his curls. 

“Do you think she’ll come back next week?” Sasha asked Marcia quietly as they both stood a few yards away.

“I don’t think she would ever want to miss seeing her son so happy in your class.”

Anetra returned during the following week’s class without Marcia this time. She even kept coming to class with just her and Jace. 

Sasha continued to sneak glances at Anetra’s astounding facial expressions during class. It was the only time that Sasha saw her face change from her usual bored expression when talking to the other dance moms.

A few weeks into her seeing Anetra during classes, parent volunteer opportunities opened up for the season. Parents of older children already in the studio signed up immediately for the ‘good’ spots (like selling T-shirts and organizing bake sales). 

This meant the only spots left were the more mundane tasks, like organizing the music library and measuring for costume sizes. But Sasha was pleasantly surprised that Anetra’s name was first (and only) on helping Sasha organize the costume closet. 

Anetra came into the studio in the late morning on a weekday when there were no classes. She arrived alone, the first time Sasha had seen her without anyone else. 

“You didn’t bring your son?” she asked Anetra as she led her to the costume closet in the back of the building. 

“No, I dropped him off at my dad and stepmom’s house earlier. He loves going over there, they spoil him every time they see him.” Anetra said with a slight smile. 

After about an hour of creating a plan to organize the closet, the two women found themselves in light conversation as they worked.

“What do you do for work?” Sasha asked from the corner of the costume closet that she was working on. She showed Anetra how everything got organized by style, size, and color. 

“I’m a medical coder for a neurologist's office,” Anetra said as she folded tights from her side of the room.  “It’s boring, but it pays the bills.” she shrugged. 

“How did you get into doing that job?” Sasha asked. If she was being honest, Sasha had no idea what a medical coder was, but at least she could try to make conversation about it. 

Anetra softly sighed as she moved the pile of tights into the storage box. “It was never my original plan. I was training to be a professional in taekwondo, but then when I found out I was pregnant, I had to throw away that plan.”

Sasha moved to sit closer to Anetra, placing spare hangers on the rack. “That must have been a hard decision to make.”

Anetra nodded, “At first it was. But I’m really lucky I had Marcia my dad and stepmom, and my other friends to help me out.” she said with a small smile. “I didn’t want to believe this when I was 21, but Jace is the best thing to happen to me.” 

Sasha gave her a warm smile, “He is a special kid.” 

“Even if he looks nothing like me.” Anetra laughed, as the two continued to work and chat throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Cleaning the costume closet soon became Sasha’s favorite chore to do in the studio. It wasn’t because it was something that she liked doing, but it was the only time she could spend with just her and Anetra. 

But the closet was nearly fully organized after a few weeks of Anetra coming to the studio alone to help on various days. Despite being great for the closet, Sasha still wanted to spend time with her. 

As she waited for Anetra to arrive to help do the last-minute touch-ups on the closet, Sasha was racking her brain for another volunteer opportunity for her and Anetra to do together. 

“When’s the last time we waxed the floors?” Sasha asked out loud as Kylie was doing computer work from the other side of the small office. 

“You know we have a guy that comes in to do that,” Kylie responded without looking away from the screen. 

Sasha thought for a moment, “Well, what about-” before she was cut off by the blonde turning around. 

“You know you can hang out with her outside of here, right?” Kylie suggested and ignored the look of shock that Sasha gave her. “I’ve seen you two in that dusty old closet, it’s okay if you want to be friends or something more with her.” 

“Something more? What do you mean by that?” she asked but heard the electric bell on the lobby door chime. “She’s here, I gotta go,” Sasha said before bolting out of the office. 

After a few short hours of finishing the costume closet, Sasha and Anetra stood in the doorway, admiring their hard work. Even if Sasha knew it would look trashed again in about six months. 

“I’ll see you in class next week, okay? I’m glad I could help you out with this.” Anetra smiled and started to turn to walk back down the hallway. 

“Wait a moment,” she said and saw the younger woman turn around. “Are you free on Saturday?” she asked, trying not to not choke on her nerves. 

Anetra looked surprised, “Oh, was there something I missed from the calendar you gave us? I thought the recital practice was the week after next.” 

“It still is, don’t worry,” Sasha reassured her. “I meant just you and me this Saturday.”

“As in, like a date?” Anetra asked for clarification. 

Sasha nodded after a moment. She didn’t plan for it to be called a date, but maybe being something more could be a good thing for them. “Yes, like a date.”

“Let me find a babysitter first, then yes.” 

Sasha only had a couple of small dates with Anetra before the recital season kept her busy. But after the winter recital was over and the pre-ballet class finished its last session before the small in-class celebration, Sasha’s attention flew back to Anetra. 

The two had met with each other at least once a week. Sometimes they would be with each other’s friends, other times it would just be the two of them alone. 

Sasha enjoyed spending time with her new friend but noticed something was slightly off about Anetra. 

“I need a favor from you.” Sasha walked swiftly into the studio office, sitting in the rolling chair opposite Kylie. The computer screen showed the edited pictures in a programming book from a few months before.  

“Yes?” 

“Do you find it weird if a woman in her twenties doesn’t have social media?” Sasha asked. 

She tried asking Anetra for her Instagram (or any social media), but the younger woman would change the subject. She couldn’t ask Marcia or any of Anetra’s other friends since she didn’t feel that close to them yet. 

“Depends, is it your new little date friend?” Kylie asked with a lifted eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, it’s Anetra. But I looked up her name on everything, and I can’t find her.” Sasha said as she watched Kylie type on her phone for a moment.  

“Found her.” The blonde said as she turned her phone screen to Sasha to show the Instagram profile. 

She squinted at the screen, looking at the username, “But I tried that one.” she sighed, pulling out her phone to check again. 

Kylie tilted her head, holding out her hand for Sasha to pass her the cell phone “Let me try something.”

“Okay, but I don’t think that-”

“You blocked her.”

“What? Why would I block her when I have never met her before?” 

Kylie shrugged, passing back the phone, “No idea. But I unblocked her for you.” 

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” She smiled as she pressed the follow button, before scrolling deep into Anetra’s profile. 

Soon she was looking at a picture of a younger Anetra, in a taekwondo uniform, with bright red hair.

The image of the younger woman with cherry red hair stayed in her mind for the rest of the day, wondering where this sense of familiarity came from.

Had she and Anetra met before?

[alittlextrathatway]

Line: "Could end in burning flames or paradise." Location: backyard

Let's go AU again. This time a REAL departure.

***

A magazine is thrown down on the bar top next to Matt. He skims it just enough to read the cover. It's a tabloid. One of those that claims to have inside sources but never does.

CASEY TO RETIRE AT END OF CURRENT SEASON.

"Looks like you're out, old man."

He rolls his eyes and slides the magazine away, a dry grin on his face as he stares down at his whiskey. "We're the exact same age. If I'm retiring so are you, Severide."

"Yeah, but I'm not the face of the franchise," Kelly says, grabbing Matt's chin and smushing his cheeks. "I mean look at this face. They're all obsessed with it."

Matt shoves his best friend and teammate away. "Get off me, jackass."

"Oh, come on, we won! Why are you sitting at the bar brooding like a sad sack of shit?"

He glances over at the rest of his team, celebrating their win with their partners and spouses. Even Kelly's wife is here, partying with them in their coach's backyard, and she's a professional soccer player with her own team to lead.

"I'm trying not to be a downer. You all have people to share our success with, you should enjoy it."

"Whatever, man," Kelly says with a scoff as he grabs Matt's whiskey glass and holds it away from him. "You have us. We're not just a team. We're a family. Come on. Donna invited the new Team Doc. She's commanded you show your face and be polite."

"I'm always polite. It's you Donna needs to worry about. Will you gimme my damn drink back?"

Severide laughs in his Captain's face and hands him back the glass. "You're polite unless you're in a mood like the one you're in tonight."

Donna Boden spots them and waves them over. "Boys, come and say hi."

They cross the yard, toward their head coach and his wife. This backyard is more a special event space than a backyard. Donna had it landscaped specially for team gatherings and it includes a pool, a bar, and an outdoor kitchen. They're invited over a lot.

The closer they get, the better a look Matt gets at the new Assistant Team Doctor. His feet hesitate, causing Severide to bump into his back. "Maybe I should take that whiskey back," Kelly snipes with a crooked smirk. "You alright?"

When Boden said they were getting a new team doctor Matt just assumed the organization would hire another older guy full of dad jokes and football trivia. But no. That's not who he finds waiting to meet them. Instead, it's a woman. A young blonde woman in a blue wrap dress and matching heels. Her smile and laughing blue eyes stun him, keeping his feet glued to the ground.

"Casey?" Kelly asks, shoving him lightly. "You gonna walk or am I leaving you here?"

He shakes himself, forcing his eyes away from the woman’s face. “I’m walking. Just gimme a second.”

He knocks back the rest of his whiskey, leaving the glass on a nearby table. With that out of the way, he shoves his hands in his pockets and finally continues forward. He has no idea what to do with his hands so best to just hide them away. It’s a good plan until Donna goes in for a hug and he can’t refuse without being rude.

“How’s my favorite quarterback in the league?” Donna asks.

He chuckles as he steps out of the hug. “I’m good. Working hard, staying focused.”

“Well, it’s working. Keep it up,” she encourages before passing him to hug Kelly as well. They nod at Boden instead of going in to hug him or shake his hand. “Guys,” Donna starts, walking over to the new doctor and putting an arm around her shoulders. “Have you met Sylvie Brett? She’s our new Assistant Team Medical Doctor.”

“No,” Severide says, reaching forward to shake her hand. “Not yet. Welcome to the team.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, smiling politely. “I’m officially a traitor to my family but I’m happy to be here.”

Kelly laughs. “Not a Chicago fan?”

“I’m from Indiana, so…”

“Yeah, say no more. I understand.” Kelly pats Matt on the back, hard enough to send him jolting forward. That’s what happens when one of the toughest tight ends in football, claps a hand against you with no warning. “And this guy is our Quarterback and captain, Matt Casey.”

She holds her hand out to him as well. Matt stares at it for a long series of seconds, knowing full well his hand is clammy. Why the hell does this woman make him so clumsy and nervous? He discretely tries to wipe his hand on his pants before putting his hand in hers. The minute their fingers touch, tingles shoot up and down his arm. What the fuck is happening?

“Nice to meet you,” Sylvie says before nervously biting the inside of her bottom lip, drawing his stare toward her mouth.

For a moment he pictures biting that bottom lip for himself, but then he realizes he looks like a creep -- continuing to squeeze her hand while staring at her lips. “Yeah, you too. We’re glad to have you.” He lets go of her hand, even if everything in him rebels against the action, and steps back.

“It’ll be nice to have someone with more of a bedside manner than Abrams,” Kelly jokes, referencing Sylvie’s boss and their Head Physician.

“Oh, him?” Sylvie says, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s all bark, no bite. We’ve worked together before. I can handle him.”

“Well, now that we’ve made introductions,” Donna says. “We need to go see to our other guests and check in on the caterers.” She turns to Sylvie with a concerned glance. “Are you okay here?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Please do what you need to do,” Sylvie assures her. “I’m sure these guys won’t mind showing me around.”

Boden and Donna leave, hand in hand. Just as they leave, Stella shouts for Kelly from her seat by the fire pit. “Sorry,” he says, shaking Sylvie’s hand one more time. “When the wife calls, I go. If I stand her up then I’m in deep shit.”

Sylvie chuckles and nods. “I understand. Casey and I can manage.”

Can they? He asks himself. He hasn’t managed to pull himself together long enough to say more than a couple of sentences. “Uh, yeah, we’re good. Go spend time with Kidd. She flies out tomorrow.” They watch Severide walk away in silence before Matt motions ahead of him, allowing Sylvie to walk first. “How about we start with a tour? Donna’s really worked hard to make this place feel like a family space for us.”

“I can tell,” she says, looking over toward the small garden and outdoor eating area. “It’s beautiful.”

Not nearly as beautiful as she is, not that he can tell her that.

“So, what brings you to Chicago if you’re an Indiana girl?” He asks.

She blushes and looks down on the ground, suddenly interested in their feet as they walk. “Well, it was either move or let my ex make my professional life a nightmare. I chose to move.” She pauses, eyes wide in shock. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

“Your ex sounds like a class act,” Matt comments sarcastically.

“Yeah, Harrison was a real winner,” she scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “But I’m here now, thanks to Dr. Abrams recommendation, and I can’t wait to get started. I’m excited for new challenges.” There’s a beat where her eyes scan over the length of him and then intentionally look away. “New people, places.”

“You’re gonna love Chicago,” he promises. “It’s my favorite city.”

“Favorite of all time?” She asks, grinning teasingly.

“Of all time in the whole world.”

“Wow, well, my expectations are officially high.”

“If you want,” he offers, shoving his hands in his pockets again. “I could show you around. Give you the official Matt Casey approved tour. I gotta make sure we clear those expectations I set, after all.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she agrees, demurely tucking her hair behind her ears. “We should make it happen.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, for sure.”

The smile at each other and twin flirtatious gazes meet.

He can’t help but admire the way the color in her cheeks extends down her neck, turning her creamy fair skin a pretty shade of pink. He wants to trail kisses over that path of pink and see where it leads.

Damn, it’s been a long time since he’s had it this bad so fast. He went from depressed and moping in his loneliness to giddy and smitten. The whiplash has his head spinning. Or maybe that’s just Sylvie sending his head spinning.

Something big is starting tonight. He can feel it.

He doesn’t know how it will all end up, but he reckons there’s two options.

Burning flames or happily committed paradise.

He’s willing to roll the dice. He hopes Sylvie is too.

[changingplumbob]

Pancake Household: Chapter 9, Part 1

Time to check in with the Pancakes stack!

Nicknames: Bob = Sleek, Eliza = Jumble

Brindleton Bay in autumn, the best world/season combo or so I’ve been told. We start with Ginger chasing her tail and Bob and Eliza  waking up.

Eliza: You ready for tonight?

Bob: Tonight?

Eliza: The dinner party Sleek

Bob: I remember we were having one I just didn’t remember it was tonight. Let me just call in work

Eliza: I could always cook

She looks at him but can only keep her face composed for a few seconds before laughing at her own joke.

Bob: *laughs* Let’s not burn the house down Jumble

Since we’ve last visited the youngest Pancake, Fergus, has been diagnosed with ADHD. He wants to see if he can manage without medication for the moment which makes Eliza a little nervous now and then.

Fergus: Morning dad, morning mother. Is Emi still coming for dinner

Eliza: Her and her parents, as well as Onyx’s friend Carson and his parents

Fergus: Just remember you have to call her Artemisia because you’re normal, I get to call her Emi because I’m her friend

Eliza: *quietly* Thank the watcher our eldest picked a simple name

Bob: You’re telling me

Bob stands and pulls Eliza up to kiss her on the cheek. He’s hoping they’ll have a daughter soon.

Onyx: Good morning everyone. Dad, mother, I couldn’t help but notice we still have a horse shaped hole in our lawn

Fergus: Did you dig up the yard?

Onyx: It’s an expression *switches to talking to Eliza* because I’m an A student mother

Eliza: Must be the only grade A student in detention

Onyx: It was one detention! Everyone gets at least one detention

Eliza: I didn’t

Bob: It’s not the detention that’s a problem. Your mother and I are concerned about how you’d manage taking care of a horse on top of your school and cheerleading responsibilities

Onyx: I’d fit it in. Please mother, I’m sad I don’t have a horse

Eliza: How about a test then

Onyx: A test?

Eliza: You take over walking Ginger for a while and if you can manage that we can talk about a horse again

Onyx: Deal. My dog walking skills will be legendary

The table bursts into laughter at this response.

Eliza: Oh I do love your confidence honey

Bob: Of course we’re lucky we can afford Ginger

Eliza: Bob…

Bob: For a while there my books weren’t doing so good

Onyx: They weren’t?

Bob: The first critic, what did he say Jumble?

Eliza: *sternly* Bob

Bob: That it was expensive toilet paper

Onyx: Oh my watcher! That’s awful! Is that why we had to move? Do we owe the mob money? Will they kill us in our sleep

Bob: What?

Clearly surprised that this new has upset Onyx, Bob turns to his wife to signal for help. Good thing she’s already prepared.

Eliza: It was a long time ago and we got through it. We may not be rolling in simoleons like some other families but we’re certainly in no danger of losing Ginger or the house

Bob: You’ll see Onyx, we’ll be… good?

Eliza: Thank you Bob, that was very convincing

Bob: *laughs* Thank the watcher charisma levels can’t go backwards

Onyx: I just have to do my homework mother then I’ll walk Ginger, you’ll see, I’ll have loads of time

Bob and Eliza watch their kids hurry off to get their homework out the way, Eliza feeling proud, Bob wondering if he should have added more onions to the breakfast quiche.

Settling onto the workout machine Bob thinks it’s a good time to do a short livestream, he still can’t believe he has fans, but he’ll have to get more for promotion.

Bob: Hey viewers. I’m having a dinner party tonight and I’m getting ready by exercising early! Remember to do your warmup stretches and add the weight you lift gradually. So my kid is 14 and I’m wondering… is it safe to let them in my kitchen? Let’s do a poll!

Inside in their room Onyx is oblivious to their responsibility being debated online, focusing instead on finishing their homework correctly. It would probably be easier if Eliza hadn’t picked now to vacuum but with visitors coming she will not be accepting dust bunnies today!

After completing his own homework assignment Fergus sets about doing the laundry. He checks all the pockets and gets it in the machine. Just as he sets it to go Onyx comes out for their cheer practice.

Onyx: Did you just do the washing

Fergus: It’s only right, we have guests coming and mother can’t do all the chores

Onyx: Suppose

Fergus: Plus if I do it you’ll have time to walk Ginger

Onyx: That’s nice of you, thanks-

Their words are interrupted by Fergus having chosen the porch as the best place to practice dramatics! Onyx shrugs and carries on their own practice, may as well practice not being distracted by random noises.

Livestream finished Bob heads inside to start prep for the dinner party. It’s here he realises he has a fridge full of batter but no dough, oops.

Bob: Hey, Jumble?

Eliza: Library! Doing chess!

Bob: Oh. Turns out I have to wait some time for the dough to mix together. I was wondering if I could persuade you to join me in bed for our own mixing

Eliza: *smiles* ask me nicely

Of course they do end up in bed and spend far longer mixing together than is required for the dough.

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