#so i will leave it on the cutting room floor

[beloveds-embrace]

I kind of need to see their reaction to the duchess mother insulting her-

I got this ask the same day I posted this, so I’m pretty it’s related to that 🙂‍↕️

The air in the hall outside your bedroom is heavy, suffocating. The door is cracked open just enough for voices to slip through, sharp and cutting, each word a dagger that buries itself deeper into your heart.

You’re curled in bed, the sheets twisted around you, your body frail and trembling under their weight. The room is dim, the curtains drawn to keep out the light, but it does nothing to hide the wreckage of your state- the unkempt hair, the tear-stained pillows, the hollow look in your eyes that even you can feel without needing to see.

And your mother doesn’t care.

“Look at you,” she snaps, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she paces. “Lying there like some pathetic, sniveling child. Is this what you’ve let yourself become? No wonder your husband doesn’t want you. Who in their right mind would?”

John freezes just outside the door. His breath catches, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. Behind him, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle stop, their footsteps abruptly halting as they catch the sound of her voice.

Inside, you don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat feels raw from crying earlier, and the effort of defending yourself seems insurmountable.

“Do you know how humiliating this is for me?” Your mother’s voice rises, sharp and unforgiving, a screeching banshee. “To have my daughter- a duchess, no less- reduced to this? Half-dead and wallowing in her own misery? I didn’t raise you to be this weak.”

Simon’s jaw tightens, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he stares at the sliver of light of the moon spilling from your door. His breathing is slow, measured, but his fingers twitch at his sides, itching to do something, anything to stop this.

Johnny’s expression twists, his lips parting as though he’s about to say something- to barge in, to end it- but Kyle’s hand on his shoulder stops him. Kyle doesn’t look at him, though. He can’t tear his eyes away from the shadow of your mother pacing inside the room, his knuckles tight where they grip the edge of his coat.

Your mother keeps going, undeterred by your silence.

“It’s no wonder no one comes to you,” she spits. “Why would they? Look at yourself. Wasting away like this. No dignity. No pride. How do you expect anyone to love you if you can’t even bother to act like someone worth loving?”

The words hit harder than any slap, and the quiet, broken sound you make in response has Johnny stepping forward before he can stop himself. Kyle yanks him back, his grip iron-tight, but Johnny’s trembling, his whole body thrumming with the need to move- to pull her out of there, to make her stop.

John says nothing, but his silence is louder than any outburst. He stands rigid, shoulders squared, eyes dark and unreadable as he stares through the crack in the door.

Inside, you flinch as your mother’s heels come to a stop beside the bed.

“Pathetic,” she says again, quieter this time but no less digging. “You should be grateful he hasn’t thrown you out yet. Maybe he should have. Maybe then you’d finally pull yourself together.”

Kyle’s grip falters, and Johnny’s nails dig into his palms.

Simon exhales slowly, the sound sharp and dangerous.

And John- John turns and walks away, his footsteps heavy against the marble floors. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t look at the others as he passes. But the set of his shoulders, the tension in his spine, says enough.

He’s going to fix this. He needs to fix this.

Even if it’s far too late to undo what’s already been done.

The others linger for only a moment longer, torn between the urge to barge in and the weight of their own guilt keeping them rooted to the spot. Eventually, though, they follow John, leaving you alone with your mother’s words echoing in the suffocating silence.

And you?

You curl deeper into the bed, pulling the blankets over your head as if that might be enough to drown it all out.

It’s not.

[scoutofmymind]

fratboy!Luigi x i-dont-wanna-be-here!Reader just randomly had the thought of Lu being a rowdy frat boy and got kinda Tingly

Divine Timing Bullshit { Luigi x Reader }

Content: pretty much SFW (if you read about an alleged assassin at work), kissing, existential crisis, Fratboy Lu is actually a sweetie

W.c: 2,485

Notes; Yeah he’s an aggro-frat boy, but he’s also a stoned philosopher, and you appreciate that, because you’re kind of losing it.

Ohh, oh, oh. Yes, yes, yes. Frat boy with a brain and heart, reader is lowkey Going Through It.

Second-year frat parties had lost their theoretical allure. Gone was that first-year thrill of living the quintessential college experience, of checking off every box in the collegiate party manual.

This year, though. This year felt different.

"Who's going to be there?" You mumble through a mouthful of scone, eyes fixed on your screen. The pastry, a hasty purchase between classes, sits half-forgotten in your cheek.

"Since when do you care?" Your roommate swivels from her desk—a chaos of textbooks, scattered lip glosses, an open laptop, and uncapped mascaras. She brandishes her lip pencil like an accusatory finger, eyebrows arched. "You're turning into such a second-year hermit."

You flinch at the accusation, phone dropping to your chest as you stop mid-chew. "Fuck," you mutter, brushing pastry debris from your hoodie — the same one you've been living in for... three nights? Four?

She doesn't need to spell it out. You've become a ghost haunting the same tired circuit: dorm room, library, labs, class. Any moment of freedom dissolves into endless study sessions or mindless TikTok scrolling until you drift off to the white noise of ASMR or satisfying slime crafts.

"Don't make me go alone." Her voice cracks with a plea you can't dismiss. "We're supposed to be doing college together. We promised."

The pact.

The fucking pact.

You'd both sworn, hands clasped under string lights in your shared room during orientation week, that you wouldn't let each other miss out on anything. Not the midnight donut runs, not the questionable decisions, not the memories that were supposed to make these years matter.

And so, it was settled.

•

The house loomed before you, nothing like the usual frat dungeons. This was old money — a sprawling estate with an infinity pool that cut into the manicured lawn like a slice of sky, and a home theater visible through floor-to-ceiling windows.

Bodies pressed past, each collision a reminder that you'd rather be elsewhere.

"Whose fuckin' house is this?" The words barely leave your mouth before your roommate's giggle floats up, her shoulder bumping yours as she shrugs.

The question evaporates into the thrum of bass and chatter.

You knew the drill by now.

She'd disappear into the crowd, hunting for tonight's conquest, while you'd drift through rooms like a wandering spirit in limbo — observing the drama unfold, helping yourself to whatever expensive snacks rich kids kept in their pantries, and sometimes, when the night got boring enough, investigating medicine cabinets.

Eventually, your travels lead you toward clusters of laughing girls, some familiar faces from lecture halls, others newly christened friends after thirty seconds of slurred introductions.

The living room couch has become your sanctuary, a perfect vantage point for the night's theater.

"God, he's fucking hot." Liz's whisper cuts through the ambient chatter, her eyes fixed on the kitchen where the imported marble island has devolved into a battlefield of red cups and spilled beer.

A tall figure commands the space, radiating the particular brand of arrogance that comes with being undefeated at beer pong for the past hour.

"Who?" Your eyebrows knit together before shooting upward in realization. She can't possibly mean -

"His name's Luigi." Her voice takes on that dreamy quality, like a third-grader confessing her first crush behind the jungle gym. "He's studying Computer Science."

Your face contorts into an expression somewhere between horror and disbelief.

"I know," Liz breathes, mirroring your shock. Luigi wasn't unattractive — that was the problem. The universe had already dealt him the unfair hand of conventional beauty; the revelation of actual intelligence felt like cosmic overkill. "Wouldn't think he was aiming any higher than a business degree, huh?"

You watch him slam another cup, arms raised in victory, and try to reconcile this frat god with the same person who probably spent hours debugging code.

The image doesn't compute.

Every other CS major you knew was either passed out in the engineering building or mainlining caffeine in their dorm, not holding court over a beer pong empire.

"Just gives typical aggro frat vibes," you mutter, unable to tear your eyes away from the spectacle. He's exchanging those elaborate, ritualistic handshakes with his bros, throwing back shots like water. Your body instinctively recoils, but there's something magnetic about the train wreck unfolding before you — like watching a perfectly coded program crash in spectacular fashion.

He's performing, you realize — a master of his craft, painting broad strokes of the perfect college experience. Creating stories he'll tell at reunions and job interviews, memories that look better through the lens of a camera than they feel in real time.

You study Luigi's practiced grin, the way he looms over his temporary kingdom, and something shifts.

Does he have someone to call at 3 AM when the world caves in? Or are these connections as deep as the beer puddles on the marble counter — evaporating by morning?

The room tilts slightly, your earlier drinks and that passed joint finally catching up, making everything sharper and softer all at once.

Your gaze drifts over your own circle, these girls laughing and sharing secrets like best friends, some of which you'd only learned most of their names moments ago.

The thought hits you like cold water: who among them would you trust with your real stories? Who would pick up your call at 3 AM? Are you any different from Luigi — just playing your own part in this performance?

The night air slaps you awake before you even realize you've fled, your feet carrying you to a hidden corner of the garden where a stone fountain whispers secrets to itself. Here, the party exists only in echoes — distant laughter, scattered arguments, and drunken declarations of love or war floating across the manicured lawn.

You tilt your head skyward, searching for anchor points among the stars and the world narrows to just this: the cool stone beneath you, the rhythm of water, the infinite above -

"Hey."

Your body jolts to attention, the peaceful moment shattering like glass. Your eyes drop from the constellations to find a different kind of celestial body standing before you — broad shoulders blocking out stars, dark features caught in shadow, curls tumbling across his forehead.

Your mind scrambles for a name, like trying to catch smoke.

Luis? Lucas?

Luigi.

The beer pong champion himself, somehow materialized from your earlier observations like a summoned entity.

"Hey." Your body performs an awkward dance on the bench, caught between making room and trying to collapse into nothingness.

"What are you doing out here?"

The question, though innocent enough, triggers your defenses. Your response comes with teeth: "I could ask you the same thing." It's a warning label, bright and clear: Approach With Caution.

The garden's twinkle lights catch him in their amber web, transforming the beer pong champion into something softer — sweat-sheened skin, features gentled by shadow.

His posture reads like an open book written in a language you can't quite translate, neither defensive nor inviting.

Just curious.

"Well, you could." The words roll out with the same casual grace as the shoulder he shrugs, a yet-unlit joint dancing between his lips as his thumbs tap out a message on his phone's glow. "And I'd just say I live here."

The universe, it seems, has a sense of humor.

A groan slips past your defenses as mortification sets in. Of all the backyards in New York, you had to stake your claim in this one, then challenge its owner about his right to be there.

"To answer your question though-“ The words come filtered through the joint until flame meets paper. He exhales, and his next words ride out on a cloud of smoke: "I came out here to call my mom." His phone screen glows with evidence — his mother's contact photo, her name bookended by heart emojis and a simple Mama.

Something about Luigi — maybe the lingering beer pong bravado, maybe the way he wears this vulnerability so casually — still begs to be challenged. "Gotta make sure she doesn't suspect you have about one hundred NYU students in her home, hm?"

He shakes his head, the sound he makes sliding down the scale like lazy jazz. "Nah, she doesn't care about that shit." His thumb hovers over the keyboard, apparently deciding a text will suffice for tonight's check-in. "And there's definitely not a hundred people in there right now."

You study his posture — the way confidence and caution occupy the same space in his frame, like watercolors bleeding into each other. "Where's she?"

Luigi's eyes lift from his screen to find yours. "Seychelles." The message swooshes into the digital void before his phone disappears into his pocket. "Your turn."

The garden's ambient soundtrack fills the space between you, water music from the fountain where a bronze boy — who bears a suspicious resemblance to a younger Luigi — plays eternal lifeguard to the trickling streams.

Your eyes lock across the dim space, neither yielding.

"My turn to what?" The question is a stalling tactic, and you both know it.

"Your turn to tell me what you're doing out here."

Your gaze wanders the curated wilderness around you — the fairy-lit canopy, the fountain's eternal performance, the swimming pool framed by trees sculpted into shapes that belong in a vintage Playboy spread.

Everything here speaks of a life so different from yours, yet something about the engineering student standing before you, texting his mom from his own party, suggests a truth you hadn’t expected; the distance between your worlds might be shorter than it appears.

"Just needed some air." The lie falls flat, each word a domino tipping toward the truth you're trying to outrun—that existential spiral triggered by watching him earlier, wondering about the depth of his connections, only to find your own relationships reflecting back just as shallow.

Luigi claims his spot beside you, the bench suddenly alive with shared warmth. His knowing smirk and raised eyebrows speak volumes while his lips stay sealed, the silence between you stretching like taffy until -

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Getting some air." He mirrors your words back to you, a perfect echo with an undertone of challenge.

Your hands scrub across your face as if trying to erase something, and when you turn to face him, he's already there, matching your position like a choreographed dance. His eyes lock onto yours — steady, focused — as you stare back with the wild gaze of someone about to jump off a cliff.

"Do you ever think maybe you're just kinda... existing?"

There it is — your midnight confession spilling out into his garden, raw and unfiltered as the joint smoke curling between you.

Luigi catalogs you with the quiet satisfaction of someone who's just solved a puzzle — noting the timbre of your voice (hoarse from shouting over beer pong champions and top-40 hits), the way moonlight catches in your hair, how your eyes betray every thought. "I know that's what I'm doing," he nods, conviction steady as a heartbeat. "And that's enough."

"But what about the connections? What about true and real bonds?" The words tumble out as you watch him draw from the joint. He offers it your way — a bridge between strangers — but you wave it off, earning a laugh that somehow makes your existential crisis feel less like drowning.

"What about them?"

"Don't you miss having them?"

His shoulder grazes yours as he makes a face that suggests you're missing something obvious. "Existing doesn't mean I cease to create bonds or connections." His voice intensifies beside you, taking on the weight of someone that had something to convince you of. "They happen everyday."

The stare between you holds with magnetic force, compelling you to consider his truth: maybe you're the one who's been building walls instead of bridges, hiding in recycled hoodies and social media scrolls while real connections knock at your door.

"You think?" Your vision shifts, the aggressive frat facade dissolving to reveal something unexpectedly gentle around the edges.

"Well, what do you call this." His finger traces an invisible line between you, the gesture casual but weighted. "I think there's reason for everything, besides, like, cancer, or something." The statement perfectly gift-wraps his essence:

A walking contradiction — the frat boy who steps away from his own party to text his mom, a beer pong champion who philosophizes between 'likes,' an engineering major who can turn existential crisis into comfortable conversation.

"Well, it's interesting, to say the least." You're not sure if you mean this moment, this revelation, or Luigi himself. All you know is that Liz will either lecture you about garden rendezvous with her biggest crush, or demand a word-for-word replay.

Probably both.

"You think there's a reason we're both out here, then?" The question follows him as he leans forward, stubbing out his joint in a tray by the fountain. "Some sort of divine-timing bullshit?"

"I do." His conviction stands unwavering against your skepticism. "That's exactly what I think."

The sigh that escapes you carries the weight of self-awareness — maybe you're the one standing in your own way.

"Give me your phone." His shoulder nudges yours again, and you find yourself digging through your purse without hesitation, unlocking it before passing it over.

No questions asked — maybe you're already buying into this divine timing thing.

He returns your phone with a smile that seems to know something you don't. His own phone lights up with urgent news about a friend's overindulgence, likely greening out on the front lawn. "Gotta split."

You straighten your back, body still glued firmly to the bench beneath you, “Wait,” the request comes out steady, but hurried, afraid he might evaporate somewhere into the midnight air. “How - how do you do it, then?”

He settles back down, closer this time, “Do what?”

“Make it easier — connections, parties, being..” You gesture vaguely at all of him. “Present.”

Luigi considers this, his smile softening. "Maybe because I don't overthink it. Like right now — you're probably wondering if this is the right moment to ask the right question, when really..." He leans in slightly, voice dropping. "Sometimes you just have to let things happen."

The air shifts between you, heavy with possibility.

You're acutely aware of how close he is, how his eyes keep dropping to your lips as he speaks.

"Is that what you're doing?" Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Letting things happen?"

"I'm letting myself do what I've wanted to since I saw you having an existential crisis by my fountain."

And then he's kissing you — or maybe you're kissing him — the distinction lost in the warm press of lips and the lingering taste of smoke. It's gentle at first, questioning, until you lean into it and his hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

When he pulls back, that knowing smile returns. "See? Divine timing bullshit."

His phone buzzes again, more insistent this time. "Duty calls," he sighs, standing. "But text me. We'll work on your overthinking problem."

Read pt 2 Here ☁️

[burningembers91]

Tennessee Whiskey - Kang Dae-Ho x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

A Voice Like Honey

Synopsis: When trouble breaks out at the bar, Kang Dae-Ho steps in to save you

A/N: I just want to give him a big hug 🥹

The bar was full to bursting tonight. There were so many people packed into the tiny space, you were having to turn people away. The sound of laughter, chatter and the ocassional smash as a patron dropped a glass on the tiled floor was almost deafening. But, as soon as you got up to sing, the whole room went silent. Every pair of eyes were trained on you, your golden honey voice, rich and warm, captivating your audience.

Kang Dae-Ho watched you from behind the bar as he polished a glass, mesmerised by your very essence. You were singing Fleetwood Mac covers tonight, and were halfway through his favourite song, Landslide when he noticed them. The group of tourists who had been steadily draining the bars supply of beer since early afternoon. They were pointing at you, making lewd gestures with their hands, sniggering to themselves as they watched you sing.

Dae-Ho gripped the glass in his hand tightly, so tightly he heard it crack. They’d been nothing but trouble since they turned up. Flirting with you, trying to get you to sit at their table with them. You took it in your stride though, never rising to the increasingly salacious comments. You were always so poised, so unfazed. Dae-Ho admired that about you.

Your set finished and you jumped down from the stage, heading back around the bar to join him.

“You sounded great,” his smiled, handing you a glass of water to soothe your parched throat. “You’ll be heard act to follow.”

“You’ll do great,” you reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Electricity shot through every atom of his body at your touch. He wondered if you knew just how crazy you drove him. “You have an incredible voice.”

Even in the dim light of the bar, you could see the heat rise through his cheeks. You loved making him blush; he always looked so handsome when he did.

As Dae-Ho mounted the stage, his eyes never left you. Each song he played was for you, every word dedicated to you. As his set progressed, the tourists got closer and closer to you. He could see them talking to you, could see you roll your eyes as they leaned on the bar, their eyes trained on your breast. He cut his set short, ignoring the girls who hung around the stage to wait for him. He made his way over to you, his anger rising, his fists balling. He’d learned enough English during his travels to know that nothing the men were saying to you was nice.

“I think you should leave,” Dae-Ho growled, hoping the shake in his voice wasn’t obvious. He hated confrontation, but he hated seeing you harassed even more.

“Why?” One of the tourists asked, his thick southern American accent slurred, evidence of just how inebriated he was. “I was simply offering to buy this beautiful lady a whiskey.”

“I don’t drink whiskey,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Dae-Ho could tell you were reaching the end of your tether with them.

“That’s probably cuz you ain’t never tried Tennessee whiskey,” the man winked, his beer scented breath hot on your face.

“Leave her alone.” Dae-Ho gritted his teeth, readying himself for a fight. He’d never fought anyone before, but for you he’d take on an entire army.

“Or what?” The man jabbed a thick finger into his chest, knocking him off balance.

“That’s enough!” You warned, but the men were too drunk to care. Without warning, his fist shot out, catching Dae-Ho square in the face. He stumbled back, falling into the crowd that had formed to watch the drama unfolding.

Dae-Ho tried to scramble to his feet, but there were too many people packed too closely together and he couldn’t move away fast enough. As a fist connected with his face again, he felt hands pulling him by the shoulders, dragging him away. Some of the crowd had clearly seen sense, breaking the fight up before it could escalate.

“Get out!” You snapped at the men, “get out before I call the police.”

You didn’t pay attention to their protestations, hurrying over to Dae-Ho.

“Let me have a look.” You checked his face over, his skin already red and swollen. “We need to ice your face. Can’t have you coming into work with a shiner.”

You took him into the back room, placing an ice pack his eye and jaw. He couldn’t look at you, too embarrassed to see your reaction. He couldn’t even save you from a bunch of drunks. He was nothing, a nobody.

“Those guys were pricks,” you told him, sensing his discomfort. You wished Dae-Ho could see himself the way you did. You wished he saw the funny, sensitive, talented and kind person he was. He always seemed to doubt himself, always seemed to be so unsure. But you could see how amazing he was, could see how much he cared for people, could see how much he cared for you.

“They were nothing more than jumped up cowboys,” you said, removing the ice pack to check his injuries. He’d definitely have a black eye tomorrow.

“Girls like cowboys though,” he mumbled, turning away from you. The shame was crushing, overwhelming.

“Not all girls,” you smiled. “I prefer musicians, who also double as a bartender.”

Dae-Ho looked up at you, momentarily forgetting the throbbing pain in his face.

“You do?” He asked, dumbstruck.

“Mhmm,” you smiled, pulling your stool a little closer to his. Brushing a stray lock of hair that had fallen from his bun, you traced a line down his check. “I like you, Dae-Ho. Very much.”

“Oh. Right.” He screamed at himself to think of something to say, something profound, maybe something sexy. But you always seemed to render him speechless. He’d spent a hundred nights imagining a hundred ways in which he’d tell you how you made him feel. But in this moment, he could only smile.

You’d said it yourself; you didn’t like cowboys, you liked him. Very much. As your lips met his, soft and slow, Dae-Ho was sure he’d never been happier. You tasted like you sang: like honey.

“Walk me home?” You asked, pressing another small kiss on his lips.

“Always,” he smiled. He would never tire of you. His beautiful bartender with a voice like golden honey.

[lowkeyren]

—close call.

in which : crammed in a maintenance closet with boothill, his audacious plan saves you both from the ipc —but not without leaving your heart racing for reasons far beyond fear.

pairing : boothill x gn!reader

wc 1.4k, "enemies" with tension, forced proximity, banter banter banter, reader implied to be a galaxy ranger + shorter than him, flirting (re: dialogue. he's a tease), reblogs r much appreciated!! enjoy <3

from event req: here ; art by @/kiu30750

the rain hammers down on the tin roof above, its rhythmic pounding the only sound aside from your ragged breaths and the distant shouts of the ipc agents scouring the area. you barely managed to wedge yourself into the maintenance closet with boothill; and now, here you are —cramped, drenched, and undeniably screwed.

pressed chest-to-chest with him, the infamous galaxy ranger whose charm is as notorious as his tendency to get into trouble, you can’t decide which is worse: the likelihood of getting caught or the suffocating proximity.

“just wonderful,” you mutter under your breath, voice dripping with sarcasm. you shift, trying to create even an inch of breathing room. though it’s hopeless; the movement only presses you tighter against his chest, and the slight tilt of his wide-brimmed hat brushes your ear, sending an uninvited shiver down your spine.

boothill, as infuriating as ever, doesn’t seem the least bit shaken by the situation. if anything, his composure is maddeningly relaxed, a sharp contrast to the rapid thuds of your heart and the faint shuffling of ipc agents just beyond the door; as though you aren’t currently hiding from people who would gladly haul you both in —or worse.

“things would’ve gone better if you hadn’t tripped the alarm back there,” you hiss.

he lifts an eyebrow, eyes narrow slightly as he glances down at you. “me? yer the one who—”

before he can finish, you press your hand over his mouth, cutting him off mid-sentence. his words die against your palm, leaving only the thrum of his breath against your skin. but even that is drowned out by the frantic beating of your hearts, the air thick and suffocating as you both listen intently to the shuffling sounds just outside the door.

you can hear footsteps drawing nearer, the unmistakable clink of weapons being adjusted, the subtle scrape of boots on metal. your pulse quickens, the pressure in your chest building with each passing second. you instinctively press your hand harder over boothill’s mouth, a desperate attempt to suppress even the smallest sound.  

his skin is surprisingly warm pressed against you —a sharp contrast to the coolness of his metal body, making the entire sensation feel disturbingly real.

"ya gonna fudgin' suffocate me if yer press so hard," he mutters, the words barely audible under your hand. his fingers wrap around your wrist, firm but careful, and he gently pulls your hand away from his mouth. 

before you can retort, the sharp sound of the lock breaking pierces the tension between you. both of you snap your heads toward the door just as it starts to creak open. without hesitation, boothill reaches out and kicks a broom across the floor, jamming it under the handle to hold the door shut —for now. 

the door rattles violently as the ipc agents push against it, the muffled voices on the other side growing louder. each thud against the flimsy barricade reverberates through the cramped closet; the handle straining under the pressure, threatening to give out at any moment.

"seems like it ain’t gonna hold for long,” his drawl thick with that familiar, unbothered tone. his eyes flick to the door, then back to you, his stance relaxed despite the impending danger. “ya better start thinkin’ quick, 'cause i ain't exactly got a plan here."

the words barely register before your mind starts to race as panic crawls up your spine. your thoughts begin to spiral —there’s no escape route, no backups, and little to no time left. you’re running through options, half of them nonsensical, as the door rattles louder with each passing second.

“heh, adorable.” his infuriating grin is more felt than seen, a slight tilt of his head as he takes in your flustered state. “wreckin’ yer pretty head over this an’ sacrificin’ yerself f’me?”

your heart stutters in your chest, a mix of frustration and embarrassment flooding your system as you snap a glare up at him, your words coming out sharp and defensive, "you wish!"

boothill chuckles, his irksome grin still in place. “d'worry, i was just kiddin’. i have a plan.”

“what is it?” you ask, your voice betraying the flicker of nervousness you feel.

instead of answering, he takes off his wide-brimmed hat and places it on your head, tilting it slightly so the brim is low enough to cover the side of your face, shadowing your features.

you shift under his touch, an odd shiver running through you. “stay still, will ya?” his voice is surprisingly soft as he adjusts the hat, his movements so gentle it catches you off guard. though you still can’t help but be curious. 

you blink up at him, still trying to piece things together. “what... what’s this supposed to do?” 

his eyes meet yours again, “just trust me, darlin’.”

before you can ask any further, his hand cups your jaw, tilting your head upward. thumb brushing over your lips as he leans in, and for one heart-stopping moment, you find yourself holding your breath, your pulse quickening in anticipation.

but the contact doesn’t land —not entirely. instead, his thumb slips between your lips, a barrier that keeps the distance just shy of crossing the line. your breath hitches in your throat, the aching proximity making everything feel too intense, as his presence fills every inch of the space around you.

heat prickles across your face, a flush creeping up your neck as you feel the tension in the air thicken. his mouth hovers, almost brushing against yours; instead, brushing against a small barrier —the press of his thumb between your lips, just enough to keep you both from closing the gap. 

before you can fully process what's happening, the closet door swings open with a sharp metallic clang, flooding the cramped space with light.

“whoa,” one of the ipc agents blurts, freezing mid-step as their eyes flicker between two figures; whose faces are far too close, and posture far too intimate for any doubt to remain.

“oh,” another grunt stammered, a hint of awkwardness in their modulated tone. “apologies. we, uh… didn’t mean to intrude —carry on!”

the words tumble out in a rush, and they hastily pull the door shut, leaving you both in the dim, suffocating silence once again.

boothill doesn’t immediately pull away. his lips curl into a smug grin as he eyes you with a hint of amusement. “that wide-eyed stare of yer just now? kinda pathetic, ya know,” his voice dripping with a taunting, teasing tone. 

you can almost feel the heat of his smirk against your skin; his next words come softer, “but, i reckon it’s also kinda cute, i’ll give ya that.”  

flustered and irritated all at once, you reach up, grabbing his ear and tugging it, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment flooding through you. “cut it out, you idiot.” your face burns with frustration and a whole lot of confusion about why his teasing is driving you crazy.

thank aeons the closet is dim, because you have no idea what more he’ll tease you about if he sees the heat flooding your cheeks, or worse, if he knows it’s his words —or rather, his actions —that’s causing it. 

you hear shouts from outside, the voices muffled but unmistakable. “nothing here, move on! we’ll scout the next area!” one of them calls out, the sound gradually fading as they move further away.

you let out a soft exhale, your posture relaxing as you shift slightly. “looks like we’re clear."

“we are, so how 'bout ya let go of my ear now, sugarplum?” 

rolling your eyes, you do your best to ignore the way your pulse is still quickening. “fine, let’s just get out of here before they come back.” 

curse that damnable, cocky grin that makes your heart race in ways you wish it didn’t.

boothill seems to know exactly what you're thinking as he leans in, patting his hat down onto your head. "whaddya blushin’ for? can't handle a lil’ close quarters?" he hums.

"shut up, boothill," you mutter, trying to sound annoyed, but even you can tell it’s less convincing than you'd like.

“alright, alright, ain't no time to be standin' round lookin' pretty.” he drawls, backing away slightly, but his eyes never leave yours. “let's get movin', before them ipc shirtbags change their minds and come back lookin’ for us.”

MASTERLIST ; EVENT M.LIST

[insidekatmind]

A Rainy Night and a Game of Truth or Dare~ Jadon Sancho

Request: yes!

The storm outside howled as rain lashed against the windows of Sancho's house. Inside, the living room was warm and filled with laughter, snacks scattered across the coffee table, and a group of friends gathered in a circle on the floor.

Someone — probably Noni, with his wild ideas — had suggested they play Truth or Dare to spice up the night. The game had been harmless fun at first, with silly dares and embarrassing truths. But things took an unexpected turn when someone pulled out a bottle to make the dares more interesting.

Sancho's friend, Cole, spun the bottle with a mischievous grin. It whirled and twirled, capturing everyone's attention until it finally slowed… and stopped.

It pointed directly at you and Sancho.

A chorus of gasps and giggles erupted from the group.

"Alright, here’s the dare," Cole announced, her eyes gleaming. "You two… ten minutes in the closet. Together."

Sancho immediately shot up from his spot on the floor. "Nah, am I seriously going to have to stay here with her?"

His friends laughed, blocking his escape. Noni stepped in front of the door, arms spread wide. "Oh no, Sancho. Rules are rules. You know that!"

"But this is stupid!" Sancho groaned. He turned toward you, as if seeking an ally. But you just shrugged, amused by how desperate he looked.

"Come on, Sancho," Cole tased. "What’s the worst that could happen? It’s only ten minutes."

Realizing he had no way out, Sancho sighed heavily and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Fine."

His friends cheered as they opened the closet door. Sancho stepped inside reluctantly, and you followed. The door closed behind you with a soft click, cutting off the laughter from outside.

The closet was dark and cramped, filled with the scent of cedar wood and faint traces of cologne from Sancho’s jackets. He leaned against one wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"So… what do we do now?" he mumbled.

You shrugged again, leaning back against the opposite wall. "I don’t know. You’re the one who wanted to leave so badly. Why don’t you come up with something?"

He rolls his eyes, sighing and trying to think of something to do* "I’m bored." Sancho mumbled, looking around and then back at you.

"Isn’t there something we can do to get the time to go faster?" he crosses his arms again, looking away from you and looking at the ceiling

"What do you want to do?"

Sancho looks back at you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and looking at you with a sarcastic smile on his face

"What do you think I want to do?" He looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, I'm not in your brain" you say sarcastically

Jadon chuckles, still looking at you, his eyes on you as he takes a step towards you and slowly starts approaching you, looking at you smugly

"You don’t even have a hint of what I want?"

He continued to approach you, getting closer and closer

he smirks, now right in front of you, so close that your bodies are almost touching. He continues to smirk, looking down at you and leaning in a bit closer

"I think you should." he responds, still with the same smirk.

the smirk was still on his face as he leaned even closer to you, until he’s almost pinning you to the wall. He looked you up and down, still with his smirk, his body almost on yours

"Don’t you even have a guess?" He asks again, his smirk still on his face

"should I?" you tease him. Jadon lets out a laugh, his smirk widening, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes and leaning in ever closer, so close that one of his hands reaches out, gently holding onto your waist

"You’re very good at teasing, aren’t you?"

He lets out a laugh, his smirk widening, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes and leaning in ever closer, so close that one of his hands reaches out, gently holding onto your waist*

"You’re very good at teasing, aren’t you?"

"maybe" you look at him amused. Jadonlaughs, looking you up and down again and then back at your eyes, a slight smirk still on his face and one of his hands still on your waist

"You are definitely very good at teasing, princess." he says amusedly.

Jadon slowly, very slowly, began to start closing the distance between your bodies, pressing himself a bit more against you, both of his hands on your waist now

"You know, you look very cute when you tease me like that." you get closer to him

Jadon laughs again, his smirk widening as he feels your body against his. He looks down at you, his hands on your hips, pushing himself against you, his body flush against yours

"You’re cute, you know that?" He says amused

Jadon looks down at you, his smirk turning into a slight, soft smile, his hands still on your hips and his body pushed against you.

"You’re adorable, princess." he responds, his voice slightly quieter now, looking at your face and his eyes traveling down.

His hands slowly start to move up your body, from your hips to your back, his eyes following them as they go up.

"You know, we still have a few minutes left."

"So why don't we make the most of them?" .he laughs, looking at you with a sly smirk, his eyebrows raised. He leans in, his face getting closer to yours, his hands moving to your hips again, gently gripping them

"Oh, I like the sound of that."

Jadon laughs, looking at you with a sly smirk, his eyebrows raised. He leans in, his face getting closer to yours, his hands moving to your hips again, gently gripping them

"Oh, I like the sound of that." He moves closer to your face, his nose almost touching yours, his lips close to your ear. He whispers in your ear softly

"How about we make these last few minutes the most interesting minutes of this game? He laughs softly

"I'd be happy" you whisper. Sancho responds by getting even closer to your face, his nose almost touching yours. He chuckles, his eyes darting down to your lips before going back to your eyes, a smirk on his face

"Do you think you can handle that, princess?" "Try me"

Jadon laughs again, amused by your response. He looks at you with a smile on his face, a bit of a challenge on his eyes.

"You’re playing with fire, princess." He says quietly. He moves his hands to your hips again, gripping them, his face still close to yours, his lips just inches away, his smirk growing

"You’re being bold, princess. Am I rubbing off on you?"

"go on" you whisper. He lets out a laugh, amused by your response and your boldness. He moves a bit closer towards you, closing what little distance is left between your bodies and gently gripping your hips, his face now only inches away from yours

"Oh, I think I definitely am rubbing off on you, princess."

Jadon moves one of his hands up to your face, gently tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and his other hand still on your hip. He looks down at you, his smirk ever so slightly growing

"You know, I kind of like this bold version of you, princess."

you look at him mischievously and stroke his hair. Jadon lets out a low chuckle, amused by the feeling of you stroking his hair. He leans in a bit more, his lips just a few millimeters away from yours

"Are you getting cocky all of a sudden?" he asks, his smirk still ever-present.

smile and kiss him. He freezes for a second as you kiss him, surprised by your boldness for a moment, but he immediately kisses you back, his hands moving from your hips to your face, gently cupping your face as he kisses you back.

Jadon pulls away, breaking the kiss for a moment so that he can look at your face, a smile on his face, his hands still on your face, gently cupping it

"You're being very daring today, princess." He says, his voice low and soft.

"and you like this" you say mischievously. He laughs, looking at you and still with a bit of a smirk

"Oh yeah, I definitely like this new you." he moves his hands from your face back to your hips, gently gripping them again.

Jadon laughs, looking at you and still with a bit of a smirk"Oh yeah, I definitely like this new you."

He moves his hands from your face back to your hips, gently gripping them again.

"I could say the same thing" you whisper and suck his bottom lip. Jadon lets out a low chuckle, amused by your response, but still trying to maintain his demeanor. A slight shiver runs through his body as you gently suck on his bottom lip, the sensation sending a pleasant feeling through him

"Careful, princess. You're really getting bold."

smile and kiss his jaw. He shivers slightly as you kiss his jaw, the feeling of your lips on his skin sending a bolt of electricity through him. He closes his eyes for a moment, before opening them again to look at you.

"You’re making this really difficult for me to be this whole nonchalant, arrogant thing, you know that?"

Jadon lets out a laugh, trying to maintain his smirk while at the same time trying to hide the effect you’re having on him, his hands gripping your hips a bit tighter

"You don’t realize how hard you’re making it for me to keep up the whole ‘sarcastic, nonchalant’ act. You’re making it really difficult for me to not just-“

He breaks off mid sentence, cutting himself off before he said something incriminating

"just?" you whisper seductively. Jadon freezes for a second again as you say that, a shiver running through his body at the tone of your voice. He pauses for a moment before answering, a hint of a smirk on his face

"Just shut you up. In the best way possible." he responds jokingly, his tone clearly masking a bit of desire.

You look at him seductively and move closer to him "I don't think so".

He laughs softly, clearly noticing that you’re trying to get a reaction from him. He looks at you with a smirk, his eyes running over your face

"Don’t you? You should be careful, princess. You’re making this really hard for me to control myself around you."

Jadon looks at you for a moment, his eyes looking down at your face before gently gripping your hips, pulling you a bit closer to him. He looks at you, his eyes holding something like a challenge in them

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?” he mutters looking at you

"Yes" you respond with a little smile

He lets out a soft laugh, his eyes still looking into yours. The look on his face is a mix of amusement and a bit of frustration, his hands still on your hips

"You’re doing a damn good job at it. And you know exactly what you’re doing too, don’t you princess?"

Jadon moves a little closer to you again, his body almost flush against yours, his hands gripping your hips a bit tighter

"You’re really testing my limits, princess. You’re really pushing it.”

you smile and kiss his jaw "time is running out"

Jadon shivers a bit as you kiss his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again to look at you. There’s a mixture of desire and irritation in his eyes, and he lets out a slight laugh

"Oh, you’re just trying to provoke me at this point, aren’t you? Teasing me and pushing my buttons."

You go down to his neck and kiss him .

Jadon closes his eyes again as you move to his neck, your lips on his skin sending a jolt through him, a low, almost involuntary moan escaping his lips, which he quickly tries to cover up but fails

"You’re making this hard. So damn hard. You know that, don’t you? You know what you’re doing to me.”

"maybe" you tease him and give him a hickey. Time's up and you're out of the closet

Jadon lets out a soft curse as you give him a hickey, shutting his eyes for a moment and letting out a soft, very quiet, moan. He slowly opens his eyes, looking at you with a look that looks a bit like a combination of irritation and desire*

"Damn it, princess. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble if you keep that up."

He lets out a frustrated but amused laugh, running his hand through his hair and looking at you with an expression of slight anger but clear desire in his eyes, frustrated and a bit annoyed that you got the best of him

"Yeah, the game is over. You’re going to be the death of me, you know that princess?"

You came out of the closet and your friends Noni and Cole they were watching you. Sancho follows you out of the closet, coming face to face with Noni and Cole, who are both looking between the two of you, a very clear look of amusement on both of their faces.

He tries to maintain his demeanor, his usual cocky and nonchalant expression crossing his face, but it’s clear that he’s a bit worked up. HIs friends are clearly enjoying this, giving him looks that say ‘nice job, dude.’ Noni looks at you and then looks at him, her expression screaming the words ‘oh, you’re so screwed.’ Cole looks amused, and gives the two of you a look that clearly says ‘oooooh, trouble.’

Sancho tries to play it off, rolling his eyes and giving them a look that says ‘knock it off.’ The two of them continue to look very amused, Noni laughing quietly to herself, and Cole giving him a smirk

[slickdickwitchbitchh]

Obx: After Dark

Chapter 1: Pilot

Summary: The roommates moved in full of hope and camaraderie, eager for a fun summer together, but things quickly soured when Rafe started stirring trouble. Tensions reached a breaking point, culminating in a heated fight between JJ and Rafe, leaving the group on edge and questioning the dynamic in the house.

A/N: the fight between JJ & Rafe is based on this fight from Vanderpump Rules, my favorite reality show i suggest watching because it’s hilarious.(i’m sorry the video is long i suggest starting at 3:05 that’s when the fight starts)

Masterlist

Pilot

Voiceover/Narrator: "The Outer Banks, a chain of islands off the coast of North Carolina, where the sun kisses the ocean, and paradise is just a few steps away... [Clip of John B.]: 'Paradise on Earth.' It's the perfect blend of wild beauty and untamed youth. Surfers, sun, and the sound of crashing waves—the OBX is a dream come true... for some. But for others, it's a playground for drama, secrets, and, well... revenge."

Cut to an aerial shot of a sprawling mansion nestled on a cliff, waves crashing beneath. The camera zooms in to the front door where the first cast member enters.

Voiceover/Narrator: "Tonight, we're taking a group of friends, exes, and enemies, and locking them together in a secluded mansion for one very special week. Why? To celebrate Y/N's 21st birthday, of course."

Cut to Y/N walking up to the grand mansion door, looking around in awe. She steps inside, and the camera follows her into the foyer.

Y/N’s Confessional Y/N is sitting in a chair with a slight smirk. "Hey, I’m Y/N. Just turned 21, finally legal. I just moved here six months ago, so I don’t subscribe to the pogues versus kooks rivalry. I’m my own person and I’m pretty much friends with everyone, as long as they don’t come for me."

Producer's voice from behind the camera: "How do you handle conflict?"

Y/N’s face hardens slightly as she thinks about it. "I mean, I have a mouth on me, I don’t take shit from no one. I’m not one to initiate a fight. I think it’s ugly and trashy, but if you’re gonna step to me, I’m gonna protect myself. What am I supposed to do? Take it? Are you kidding me?"

Producer's voice from behind the camera: "Are you a partier?"

Y/N grins and shrugs casually. "I definitely come home at six in the morning a lot."

Y/N walks into the living room, surveying the space with a smile, before hearing someone enter behind her. She turns around.

Cut to Sarah Cameron entering, her heels clicking on the marble floors. She pauses, looking around, and then the camera switches to Sarah’s confessional.

Sarah Cameron’s Confessional "I’m Sarah. I’m 22. It’s been a minute since I've seen some of these people, especially Rafe." A brief pause as her expression shifts slightly. "But what’s crazy is, my dad, Ward, he left us half of his fortune. So, I guess this trip’s gonna be... interesting. I’ve been dating John B. for about four months now, and I’m really looking forward to this week. Just... I hope nothing crazy happens. I’m all about peace and good vibes, but when it comes to Rafe and Topper... we’ll see."

Cut to Sarah entering the mansion. Y/N, excited, barrels down the stairs and jumps on Sarah, spinning her around.

Sarah: "Happy birthday, baby!" gives her a hug

They embrace for a moment before Sarah pulls back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Sarah: "Okay, but Topper and Rafe are staying here too? That’s what he told me."

Y/N’s face falls into a nervous expression.

Y/N: "Fuck…" pauses "Well, that’s gonna be... interesting."

Sarah and Y/N lock eyes for a moment, then both spot a bottle of tequila on the counter. Without another word, they grab the bottle and each take a shot.

Cut to the front door, where John B. is struggling to carry two suitcases out of the car. The camera switches to his confessional.

John B.’s Confessional "I’m John B., 23, and I’ve been dating Sarah for the past four months. My best friends are the pogues—JJ, Pope, Kiara, Cleo, Y/N, and Sarah. As for the kooks... I don’t necessarily like them, but it’s not on sight if I see them."

Cut to John B. entering the house, dragging the bags in. He sees Sarah and Y/N laughing by the counter.

John B.: "Happy birthday, Y/N!" gives her a big hug

Y/N: "Thanks, JB! Where’s JJ?"

The camera cuts to JJ riding down the sun-kissed streets of OBX on his motorcycle. The sound of the engine rumbles as he speeds down the road.

JJ’s Confessional "I’m JJ, 23. Yeah, I don’t like kooks. And it’s on sight if I see them. I’ve got my squad—Y/N, Sarah, John B., Pope, Kiara, Cleo, and we all stick together." pauses "I’ve got a little thing for Y/N, but... it’s complicated."

JJ pulls up to the mansion on his bike, kicking the stand down. He walks inside, throwing open the front door with a grin.

JJ: "Papas home!"

The camera cuts to Sarah, John B., and Y/N rushing to greet him at the door. Y/N gives JJ a hug that lingers longer than necessary, causing Sarah to shoot John B. a subtle, knowing look. He gives Sarah a matching look, and together, they both simultaneously walk away, leaving JJ and Y/N still hugging.

Pilot (Continued)

JJ and Y/N finally pull apart, both grinning. JJ's eyes twinkle as he reaches into his bag.

JJ: "I've got your birthday gifts."

Y/N: "Gifts? Plural?"

JJ: "You know it."

He opens his tattered duffle bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a crumpled brown paper bag. He hands it to Y/N with a grin.

Y/N: She takes the bag, holding it up to her nose and sniffing it, jerking back immediately. "Woah."

JJ: "I know, right? Only the 'stickiest of ickies' for my girl’s 21st."

Y/N laughs, the excitement in her voice unmistakable.

Y/N: Loudly and dramatically, she yells "STICKYYYYY!" like Tyler, The Creator and Sexy Red's song.

She gives JJ another long hug, grinning from ear to ear.

Y/N: "We’ll save it for tonight."

JJ: "Bet. And I’ll give you your other gift tonight."

Y/N: Teasing with a smirk, she raises her eyebrows. "Oooo, my other gift at night? Sounds sexy."

They both burst out laughing, the playful tension between them undeniable.

Cut to the upstairs area where everyone is gathered around, discussing sleeping arrangements. Y/N and Sarah stand in a room with four queen-sized beds. Y/N quickly claims one of the beds while Sarah glances around, counting beds.

Sarah: "Ugh, I’m guessing Kiara is coming, seeing as there are four beds."

Y/N: Scolding, she replies "Sarah, please. Just be nice and cordial for me, okay? It’s my birthday trip."

Sarah: Rolls her eyes. "Fine, but if she comes for me, all bets are off."

Y/N sighs, shaking her head.

Y/N: "This is gonna be a long week."

The camera switches to JJ and John B., who are surveying the two rooms connected by a bathroom. One has a bunk bed and a single bed, and the other has two queen beds. They exchange looks.

John B.: "We should probably take this room so we can room with Pope."

JJ: "Right, but who are those other two beds in the other room for?"

John B. goes quiet for a moment, then sighs before answering.

John B.: "Sarah told me that Topper told her that him and Rafe are coming."

JJ’s eyes widen, and he immediately jumps off the bottom bunk with a start.

JJ: "What the—who the fuck invited them!?"

John B. immediately grabs JJ’s shoulder, manhandling him back onto the bed with a calm grip.

John B.: "Easy, man. We can’t get crazy."

JJ goes quiet, deep in thought. John B. watches him, concerned.

John B.: "You good?"

JJ looks up, his expression shifting from frustration to something more controlled.

JJ: "Yeah, I’ll be cool... as long as they’re cool."

John B.: "Okay, good. This is supposed to be a fun experience. Don’t let them ruin it."

John B. lies back on his single bed, closing his eyes in an attempt to relax. JJ stares at him for a moment, a devilish look on his face.

JJ: Leaning forward, he starts rummaging through his duffle bag. "And plus, I brought my backup."

John B. opens one eye, just in time to see JJ pull something from his bag. JJ holds it up with a triumphant grin.

JJ: "Aha!"

John B. immediately opens both eyes, his face dropping as he realizes what JJ’s holding. It’s a gun—his eyes widen in shock.

The camera focuses on John B.’s worried expression as he stares at the gun.

John B. (looking directly at the camera): Panicked, his voice shaky. "Uh, JJ, man, what the hell are you doing?"

The screen immediately cuts to static, followed by an error sound effect. The camera cuts to JJ, now walking into the confessional room, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

JJ (laughing): "Sorry, y’all, I didn’t read the contract before I signed it, and apparently, there are no weapons allowed [uses air quotes]—even BB guns."

Even the producers chuckle behind the camera.

JJ: "I’m on strike one already, and we’ve only been here for 40 minutes... so... yeah, it’s gonna be a long week."

The screen fades to black, teasing what’s to come next.

Scene: Topper and Rafe’s Arrival

The sound of an engine rumbles as Rafe’s F-150 cruises down the sunny streets of the Outer Banks. The truck gleams under the sun, a reflection of Rafe’s personality—flashy, over-the-top, and unapologetic. Topper rides shotgun, sunglasses on, leaning back casually. The coastal scenery whizzes past as the two make small talk.

Topper: "Man, I can’t believe we’re doing this. A whole week in that house with them."

Rafe: Smirking, eyes on the road. "Yeah, well, free booze and drama? I’m in. Plus, I’ve got a few... loose ends to tie up."

Topper: Chuckling. "Loose ends? More like bad decisions."

Rafe: Laughing darkly. "Touché. But you know me—I make things interesting."

Topper: Glancing at Rafe. "You do realize Sarah’s gonna be there, right? And John B?"

Rafe: His smirk widens into something more sinister. "Please. Like I’m scared of them. Besides, I’ve got better things to focus on."

The truck pulls up to the secluded mansion, the ocean shimmering in the background. Both men step out, their confident strides and designer clothes immediately setting them apart from the laid-back vibes of the Outer Banks. They exchange a look, smirking as they grab their bags and head toward the house. The front door swings open, and the energy shifts as they enter, their presence palpable.

Rafe’s Confessional

Rafe leans back in the confessional chair, an unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers. He smirks at the camera, exuding cocky arrogance.

Rafe: "Name’s Rafe Cameron. Twenty-four, born and bred Kook royalty. If you don’t know what a Kook is, let me educate you. We’re the elite, the ones who run this place. The Pogues? They’re the bottom-feeders. The ones who clean our boats and beg for scraps. It’s not a rivalry. It’s reality."

He pauses, his smirk turning colder.

Rafe: "My dad, Ward Cameron, recently passed. Rest in peace, Dad." He presses a hand to his chest mockingly, then lets it fall. "Left me a fortune, so, yeah, life’s looking pretty good for me. Oh, and as for this week? Let’s just say I hooked up with Y/N last week, but I’m keeping that little detail under wraps for now. Timing is everything."

He leans forward, staring into the camera with a look that’s both charming and unsettling.

Rafe: "This week’s gonna be fun—for me."

Topper’s Confessional

Topper sits in the confessional chair, his posture relaxed but his tone serious.

Topper: "Topper Thornton. Twenty-three. Born and raised in Figure Eight. Some people think I’m just a trust-fund kid who parties too much, but there’s more to me than that."

He adjusts his sunglasses, sighing.

Topper: "So, yeah, Sarah and I broke up six months ago. It was mutual, but honestly? I think it’s the break we both needed. That said..." He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I’m here to win her back. I know she’s with John B, but let’s be real—what they have isn’t serious. It’s a phase. She’ll come around. She always does."

He leans back, smirking faintly.

Topper: "This week’s about showing Sarah who she really belongs with. Me."

Back in the house, Rafe and Topper walk into the main living area, their presence impossible to ignore. Y/N and JJ are still joking by the staircase, while Sarah and John B stand off to the side, their conversation interrupted by the new arrivals. Everyone goes quiet as the tension in the room skyrockets.

Rafe: Grinning as he surveys the group. "Well, well, well. Looks like the gang’s all here."

The camera pans to Sarah, her jaw tightening as she glances at John B. Y/N’s eyes dart between Rafe and JJ, sensing the brewing storm. JJ’s posture stiffens, his eyes narrowing at Rafe, while Topper’s gaze zeroes in on Sarah, his confident smirk unshaken.

Topper: Casually, with a slight edge. "Hey, Sarah. Long time no see."

Sarah: Her voice tight, controlled. "Not long enough."

The tension is thick, the air charged with unspoken words and unresolved history. The camera lingers on the group, capturing the shifting dynamics and subtle glares before cutting to black.

Y/N’s Secret Gets Hinted At

Upstairs, Sarah closes the door to their shared bedroom and leans against it dramatically.

Sarah: "Okay, bestie, what’s up? Why are you dodging Rafe like he’s a pop quiz?"

Y/N: "What? I’m not dodging anyone."

She starts unpacking her bag, purposefully looking down to avoid Sarah’s gaze. Sarah raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

Sarah: "Girl. You’re giving off major 'I did something dumb' energy. Spill."

Y/N groans, dropping onto the bed.

Y/N: "It’s not even a thing, okay? It happened once, and it was a mistake."

Sarah gasps, eyes wide.

Sarah: "Wait... are you telling me you hooked up with my brother?"

Y/N quickly shushes her, frantically waving her hands.

Y/N: "Keep your voice down! Do you want them to hear?"

Sarah flops onto the bed beside her, looking both shocked and intrigued.

Sarah: "First of all, ew. Second of all, why didn’t you tell me?! Third—wait, no—why Rafe?!"

Y/N: "I don’t know, okay? It was tequila, bad decisions, and... I don’t know. He was just... there."

Sarah sits up, giving her a pointed look.

Sarah: "That man is like a walking red flag, Y/N. Does JJ know?"

Y/N: "No, and he’s not going to. It’s not like it meant anything."

Sarah squints at her like she doesn’t quite believe her but eventually sighs.

Sarah: "Alright, fine. Your secret’s safe with me. But if this blows up, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Y/N buries her face in her hands.

Y/N: "It’s my birthday. Can’t the universe give me a break?"

Kiara’s Arrival

Their conversation is cut short by the sound of a car door slamming. The camera cuts to Kiara stepping out of her car, her vibe effortlessly cool in an oversized hoodie, ripped jeans, and sneakers. She waves at the camera with a cheeky grin.

Kiara (Confessional): "Sup, I’m Kiara. I’m 22, full-time Pogue, part-time shit-stirrer. I’m here to celebrate Y/N, keep it chill, and maybe bring some chaos. 'Cause, let’s be real, what’s a trip without a little drama?"

Back at the house, Kiara pushes open the door and shouts:

Kiara: "Where’s the birthday girl?!"

Y/N and Sarah head downstairs. Y/N grins, running over to hug Kiara.

Y/N: "Kiara! Finally, someone I actually like."

Kiara: "Happy birthday, babe! Ready to make this week unforgettable?"

Kiara’s gaze shifts to Sarah, her smile turning into a tight-lipped smirk.

Kiara: "Sarah."

Sarah: "Kiara."

The air thickens as the two exchange icy nods. Y/N sighs, stepping between them.

Y/N: "Okay, can we not? It’s my birthday. Please just act like adults for one week?"

Kiara shrugs, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

Kiara: "Fine by me. As long as she doesn’t start anything, we’re good."

Sarah: "Trust me, I was about to say the same thing."

Y/N groans, muttering under her breath:

Y/N: "Y’all are exhausting."

The camera lingers on the tension as Kiara grabs her bag and heads upstairs to claim her bed. She passes by Rafe and Topper in the kitchen, pointedly ignoring Rafe’s cocky smirk. The scene ends with JJ watching everything from the corner, his fists clenched as the tension in the house continues to rise.

Pope and Cleo’s Arrival

The camera cuts to Pope and Cleo arriving in a sleek black SUV. Pope gets out first, adjusting his backpack with a confident but relaxed smile. Cleo follows, hopping out and glancing around curiously.

Pope (Confessional): "Hey, I’m Pope. I’m 21, and I’m here to keep the peace... or at least try to. I’m in college at USC on a full scholarship, which is where I met Cleo. She’s my ride-or-die. Bringing her along is kinda like introducing my family to my friends, so... we’ll see how that goes."

The camera shifts to Cleo, tossing her long braids over her shoulder and grinning mischievously.

Cleo (Confessional): "Hi, I’m Cleo. I’m 22, and this is my first time meeting Pope’s OBX crew. I’ve heard some wild stories, so I’m excited—and a little nervous—to see what the hype’s about. Oh, and yeah, I go to USC too. Go Trojans or whatever."

Inside the house, the group hears the door open, and Pope’s voice echoes:

Pope: "What’s up, OBX?!"

Y/N rushes to greet them, hugging Pope tightly before turning to Cleo.

Y/N: "Cleo! Finally, someone I’ve been dying to meet."

Cleo smiles, pulling Y/N into a warm hug.

Cleo: "Happy birthday, girl! Pope’s been hyping you up nonstop."

Pope grins, slinging an arm around Cleo.

Pope: "I only tell the truth."

JJ (from the kitchen): "Yo, Pope! About time. We were starting to think you bailed."

Pope: "Wouldn’t miss this for the world, man."

The Birthday Shot

The group gathers downstairs at the dining room island, where JJ has lined up tequila shots. Y/N stands in the middle, glowing as everyone crowds around her. JJ grabs his shot glass and clears his throat.

JJ: "Alright, alright, everyone shut up for a sec. This is for Y/N. The realest one I know, the only person who can put up with all of us, and... the birthday queen. Cheers to 21!"

The group cheers, lifting their glasses, but before anyone can drink, Rafe cuts in.

Rafe: "Wait, hold up. I gotta say something too."

Everyone groans, but Rafe smirks, holding his shot glass like he owns the place.

Rafe: "To Y/N. The baddest in the room. The only person who’s ever been able to handle me, and trust me, that’s no small feat. You deserve everything good in life, even if you make... interesting choices sometimes."

His gaze lingers on Y/N, a smirk playing on his lips. The group exchanges awkward glances, sensing the weight of his words. Before anyone can react, Kiara steps in.

Kiara: "To Y/N. The real MVP. The only reason I’m putting up with all these people. Here’s to a week of unforgettable memories, good energy, and no drama."

The group laughs and cheers louder this time, finally taking their shots. The camera pans across everyone’s faces, capturing the tension that still lingers despite the toast.

Y/N’s Confessional

Y/N (Confessional): "Yeah, so that toast? A little cringe. Rafe just loves to stir the pot, and I already know he’s gonna push someone’s buttons. I need to talk to him and make sure he’s on his best behavior because I swear if he starts something, it’s not gonna end well—for anyone."

The camera cuts back to the group as they finish their shots. Cleo nudges Pope, whispering something that makes him laugh. JJ eyes Rafe from across the room, his jaw clenched. Meanwhile, Sarah is scrolling on her phone, clearly trying to ignore Kiara’s presence. The tension is palpable, and the week is just getting started.

The next scene opens with the roommates lounging around the kitchen, debating what to barbeque for dinner. The countertops are scattered with an assortment of snacks, condiments, and grocery bags.

Pope leans on the island, surveying the options. "Alright, we’ve got burgers, chicken, hot dogs, and veggie burgers. What’s the move?"

"Veggie burgers, obviously," Kiara interjects with a raised eyebrow.

"I say wings," Sarah suggests, holding up a pack of chicken. "I’ll whip up a marinade."

"I got the grill," JJ announces, puffing out his chest. "It’s basically my calling."

"Yeah, right," Kiara snorts. "You’re banned after last summer. Remember? You almost burned my dad’s dock down."

"It was windy!" JJ shoots back, hands up in defense.

Rafe, leaning against the counter, smirks. "I’ll handle the bonfire. At least I know what I’m doing."

"Yeah, ‘cause playing with fire is your whole personality," JJ mutters, his voice low but cutting.

Before Rafe can respond, the kitchen door swings open, and the producer steps in, casually dressed but commanding attention with a loud clap. "Alright, everyone, can I get you to meet me in the living room? We’ve got a quick meeting."

The roommates exchange puzzled looks but shuffle into the living room, taking their spots on the oversized sectional. JJ quickly slides into the seat next to Y/N, throwing his arm casually over the back of the couch. Rafe, arriving a second too late, lingers behind them, his jaw tightening as he glares at JJ. The camera lingers on Rafe’s expression, emphasizing the tension.

The producer stands before them, clipboard in hand, his tone both cheerful and authoritative. "Okay, so here’s the deal. This week is all about bonding—getting to know each other in real life, without distractions."

"Distractions?" Y/N tilts her head, already suspicious.

The producer smirks. "Yup. That means we’ll be taking your phones for the week."

A chorus of groans ripples through the group.

"You can’t be serious," Sarah complains. "What am I supposed to do without my socials?"

"It’s for the experience," the producer explains. "No texts, no calls, no social media. Just you, your roommates, and the art of conversation."

JJ slouches dramatically, crossing his arms. "This feels illegal."

"You’ll live," Pope quips, shooting JJ a teasing grin. "Just pretend it’s the '90s."

Kiara rolls her eyes. "Or the 1890s. Back when people had actual survival skills."

"Yeah, great sales pitch," Rafe deadpans, crossing his arms behind Y/N and JJ.

The producer chuckles. "Trust me, it’ll be worth it. You’ll get your phones back at the end of the week. For now, just focus on each other. Deal?"

Y/N sighs theatrically. "Fine, but if I miss an important text, it’s on you."

"Noted," the producer says with a smile. "Alright, everyone, hand them over."

One by one, the roommates reluctantly deposit their phones into a box held by the producer. The mood is a mix of resignation and apprehension.

As the producer exits, the camera lingers on the group’s awkward silence. JJ taps Y/N’s shoulder playfully, breaking the tension. "Alright, so... who’s ready to bond without Twitter?"

Rafe’s sharp gaze on the two of them doesn’t go unnoticed as the screen cuts to black.

As the group gathers around the grill, a warm glow from the setting sun reflects off the ocean, casting a serene atmosphere over the beach. The bonfire is set up in the distance, ready for the night ahead. The sound of sizzling meat on the grill fills the air as everyone chips in to help with the cooking.

JJ is the first to take charge, tossing some burgers on the grill with exaggerated flair. "Whoever says you can’t cook a decent meal on a beach is seriously underestimating the power of my grilling skills," he declares with a grin.

Sarah, handing over a platter of veggies, raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that, JJ? You nearly set the kitchen on fire last week."

Y/N chuckles, tossing a bottle of ketchup at him. "If I end up with a burnt burger, I’m blaming you."

JJ catches it effortlessly and winks. "Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. You’re gonna love it."

Meanwhile, Cleo is in charge of setting up the drinks by the bonfire. "Who’s in for a drink? I’ve got the good stuff!" she calls out, her voice full of mischief. "But remember, it’s a limited supply."

Kiara, having a blast as she passes a bowl of chips to Pope, leans over. "Do you think the producer’s gonna try and turn us into a drama show with all this phone confiscation nonsense?"

Pope shakes his head, laughing. "If they do, they’re in for a surprise. None of us are easy to manipulate."

Rafe, though quieter, catches Pope’s comment with a smirk, the glint in his eyes giving away his amusement. He cracks a beer open, eyeing the group as if evaluating the situation. "I think this whole thing’s gonna get real interesting," he mutters, almost to himself.

nside the small, dimly lit confessional room, John B sits in front of the camera, a relaxed grin spreading across his face as he leans back slightly in the chair. The soft hum of the room’s air conditioning is the only sound for a moment, before he starts speaking to the camera, his voice light but sincere.

"Alright, so... it’s been a bit of a weird start, not gonna lie," he begins, running a hand through his hair. "Phones? Gone. But honestly? It's kinda been a blessing in disguise. Everyone’s tipsy, everyone’s laughing, and the vibes are... good, you know? Like, there’s definitely some tension, but right now? Everyone’s chilling, having a good time. It’s like we’ve already forgotten why we were even bothered in the first place."

He pauses for a second, smiling to himself. "I just hope this keeps up, honestly. I mean, we’re all stuck here for a week together, and if we can keep this... positive energy going, maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all. But, who knows? In reality TV, things can change on a dime." He shrugs, giving the camera a playful smirk. "Fingers crossed it stays this way."

John B leans forward, his grin widening. "Anyway, I’m here for the good times, and right now, we’re definitely having those. Let’s just hope that lasts." He winks at the camera, and the screen cuts back to the group enjoying themselves around the bonfire, the sound of laughter carrying over the breeze.

Back by the grill, the laughter continues as Sarah expertly flips a couple of burgers, teasing JJ. "See, I told you I could do this better than you."

"Okay, okay, but only because I’m distracted by someone," JJ responds, glancing at Y/N with a playful wink.

Y/N rolls their eyes, not able to hide their smile. "Sure, blame it on me. You’ll be the one running for seconds once they’re done."

The group continues to laugh and joke around as they serve up the food, the mood lightening with every passing minute. As they gather around the bonfire, drinks in hand, the initial tension begins to dissolve. They all settle into the warmth of the fire and the flickering light, realizing that this trip might not be so bad after all.

John B glances around at the group, nodding to himself. "Yeah, this could be the start of something... interesting."

And as the camera pulls back, the sounds of laughter and lighthearted banter echo across the beach, the night just beginning.

Just as the laughter dies down, Topper stands up from where he’d been lounging on a nearby log, holding up a bottle in one hand. He flashes a mischievous grin.

"Alright, alright, enough with the Pope stories," he says, his voice carrying a playful tone. "How about we spice things up a little with a game? Truth or drink, anyone?"

The group exchanges amused glances, intrigued by the suggestion.

Rafe chuckles, leaning forward. "Now we’re talking. This is how you get to know people."

Kiara, already sipping from her drink, raises an eyebrow. "Oh, this is gonna get interesting."

"Alright," Topper continues, settling back into his seat with the bottle. "I’ll start. Y/N, truth or drink?"

Y/N looks around the group for a moment before deciding, "I’ll go with truth."

Topper’s grin widens. "Alright, spill. Which roommates have you kissed?"

The group falls silent for a second, the tension hanging in the air as all eyes turn to Y/N, who takes a slow sip from their drink. They set the glass down, not missing a beat.

"Well," Y/N begins, a teasing glint in their eyes, "I’ve kissed all the boys at some point... except for you, Topper."

A collective laugh erupts from the group, some people shaking their heads in disbelief, others just enjoying the unexpected honesty. JJ raises his glass with a playful grin. "Guess I’m the favorite," he says, leaning back confidently.

Topper shrugs, clearly amused. "Alright, I’ll take that as a compliment. But now it’s your turn, JJ."

The playful mood shifts slightly as Rafe suddenly leans in, an eyebrow arched, his tone a bit more pointed. "So, JJ," he starts, eyes locking onto him, "who was that one girl you hooked up with last month? You know, the one you’ve been dodging talking about."

The air grows a little colder, the group sensing the shift. JJ’s smile falters for just a second, his eyes flicking toward the bottle of liquor.

He takes a deep breath, then grabs the bottle and pours himself a drink, not saying a word. His eyes briefly meet Rafe’s, but instead of responding, he tips the bottle back, taking a long swig.

The room falls into an awkward silence for a moment, the tension between the two palpable. Finally, JJ slams the bottle down on the ground with a lighthearted chuckle. "Alright, moving on," he says, clearly avoiding the question. "Who’s next?"

The group hesitates for just a moment before the tension begins to dissolve. Kiara nudges Pope, forcing a smile. "Okay, Pope, truth or drink?"

The camera lingers on the group, their laughter hesitant but building once more as the game continues, the vibes slowly lightening again, despite the brief awkwardness that lingers in the air.

The scene opens with the group gathered around the bonfire, now buzzing with activity as they begin the task of cleaning up after dinner. Plates clink together, and the smell of grilled food still lingers in the air as everyone works together, washing dishes and tidying up the space. There's a lighthearted mood—until Topper, wiping his hands on a dish towel, casually leans back and says something that cuts through the buzz of conversation like a knife.

"You know," Topper says, his voice a bit too loud for the moment, "Sarah and I used to do this all the time. You know, go on trips like this. Good times."

John B freezes for a split second, his hand tightening around the dish he’s drying, his jaw clenching visibly. The smile on his face falters, replaced by a tight-lipped grimace as his eyes flick toward Sarah. He says nothing, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Sarah, still focused on drying a glass, suddenly goes rigid, her face hardening. She doesn’t even look at Topper when she snaps, "Topper, shut up."

The words hang in the air, cutting the moment short. The group falls silent for a heartbeat before the sound of dishes clattering resumes, but the mood has shifted. The easy camaraderie is replaced with an uncomfortable energy, a quiet discomfort that seems to settle over everyone.

As the group begins to move on with the task, Rafe sees an opportunity to stir the pot further. Watching the tension play out, he casually gets up from the table, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He looks toward Y/N, who’s distracted by the cake preparations. Slowly, he approaches them, his voice smooth as he addresses them in a low, almost conspiratorial tone.

"Hey," Rafe starts, leaning slightly toward Y/N. "You seemed a lot happier last week when it was just... us." His eyes flicker knowingly, leaving the implication in the air without outright saying it. "It’s kinda funny how things change, huh?"

Y/N, caught off guard by his insinuation, stiffens for a moment, but quickly recovers. They force a smile, unsure of how to respond. "What’s your point, Rafe?"

Rafe shrugs casually, his smile remaining almost too sweet. "Just making an observation. You looked like you were having a good time back then. I wonder what changed."

The weight of his words hangs over Y/N as they try to ignore the growing unease bubbling inside. The tension between the group is palpable now, and Rafe’s subtle mind games are only adding fuel to the fire.

The camera captures the way Y/N’s gaze darts around the group, noticing the lingering discomfort, especially between John B and Sarah. They feel the weight of the situation bearing down on them, and despite the surprise birthday cake still in the works, it’s clear that this vacation has become anything but relaxing.

As the group gathers around the table to set up the cake, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension, leaving everyone wondering just how much longer the fragile peace will hold.

The scene cuts to the afterglow of the birthday celebration. The group is gathered around the bonfire, the flickering flames illuminating their faces as they finish singing "Happy Birthday" to Y/N. Laughter fills the air as Y/N blows out the candle on the cake, the group cheering and clapping. But despite the cheerful atmosphere, Y/N feels a sudden urge to step away, to get a moment of peace.

She makes her way inside the house, finding the hallway empty, the sounds of the party fading into the distance. Leaning against the wall just a few feet away is Rafe, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. Y/N stops in front of him, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the party.

Rafe pushes off from the wall, standing so close to Y/N that she can smell his cologne—deep and musky, with a faint hint of something else that makes her heart race just a little faster. His presence is magnetic, and for a split second, it’s easy to fall back into their old rhythm.

"You look good tonight," Rafe says with a smile, his tone smooth, almost too casual. He steps a little closer, his breath almost brushing against Y/N’s skin. "It’s funny, you know? I never forget how easy it is to fall back into this." He gestures vaguely between them, the unspoken history hanging heavy in the air.

Y/N glances at him, her heartbeat picking up speed, but she’s careful not to let it show. She crosses her arms over her chest, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips. "I’m not doing this with you, Rafe," she says quietly but firmly. "I don’t want any drama."

Rafe’s smile falters just for a moment, but he quickly masks it with a shrug. "Drama?" he repeats, almost mockingly. "Come on, we both know what we’ve had before. It’s nothing but fun, right?" His gaze never leaves Y/N, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that only adds to the tension. "I was just saying, I’ve missed this—us."

Y/N swallows, resisting the pull of his gaze. "I really like JJ," she says, her voice softer, almost apologetic, but steady. "I’m not going down that road again with you."

Rafe doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening just the slightest bit. The words sting more than he lets on, but he keeps his cool, a forced smile creeping onto his face. "JJ, huh?" he says, the hint of sarcasm in his voice, though the bitterness remains hidden. "Well, I guess you’ve got your type."

There’s a flicker in Rafe’s eyes, something dark and possessive, but it disappears just as quickly as it appears. He tilts his head, his voice lower now, teasing. "It’s not like it ever stopped being easy between us. You sure you want to play it that way?"

Y/N stands her ground, feeling the weight of the unspoken things between them. "I’m not playing games with you, Rafe," she replies, voice firm but with a quiet undercurrent of frustration.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air is thick with tension, the past between them lingering, but neither one willing to push too far. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Rafe lets out a breath, his expression unreadable.

He steps forward, closing the small gap between them, and pulls Y/N into a hug, brief but tight. It’s almost too easy to fall back into this—into the familiarity of his touch, the weight of his body pressing against hers. Y/N hesitates for a moment before returning the hug, her arms encircling his waist, though it feels almost instinctive, like it’s something they’ve done a thousand times before.

Rafe pulls away slightly, looking down at her with a faint, almost sad smile. "You’re not gonna tell him, are you?" he asks, his voice low and casual, but with an underlying question that hangs between them.

Y/N just shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak. She can feel the tension building again, the space between them filled with a thousand things left unsaid.

"Guess we’ll just have to leave it at that," Rafe murmurs, his voice quiet, eyes lingering on Y/N a moment longer before he steps back. His expression is unreadable, but the distance between them feels heavier now, like something is shifting, something irreversible.

With a final look, Rafe turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing in the hallway, her thoughts swirling. The hug lingers in her mind, the heat of Rafe’s presence still pressing against her skin, and she realizes that while the conversation is over, the complexity of her feelings is far from simple.

The camera lingers on Y/N as she stands in the hallway, her thoughts still heavy after the conversation with Rafe. A moment later, Rafe walks past her, heading back to the kitchen with a purposeful stride. He doesn’t look back, but the smirk on his face suggests something is brewing, and Y/N can’t shake the feeling that something's off.

Inside the kitchen, the group is still buzzing with energy, the sounds of laughter and playful banter drifting through the house. Meanwhile, Rafe pulls Topper aside, his voice low but urgent.

"Hey," Rafe starts, his gaze scanning the room quickly before he locks eyes with Topper. "I’ve got something that’ll make the night a little more interesting. You in?"

Topper, looking intrigued but cautious, raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Without another word, Rafe motions for Topper to follow him, and they slip out of the kitchen, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom. The sounds of the group in the next room grow fainter as the camera follows them, the atmosphere in the house shifting as they enter the bathroom.

As the door clicks shut behind them, the camera’s angle shifts slightly, picking up the faint sound of sniffing through their mics—enough to hint at what’s really going on inside. The camera lingers on the bathroom door for a few seconds, allowing the tension to build before cutting back to the rest of the group.

Meanwhile, the roommates in the living room are oblivious to the shift in energy as they continue playing a lively game of Uno. Everyone is laughing, teasing one another, and the playful arguments escalate over who’s cheating and who’s got the best hand. JJ is animated, gesturing wildly at Cleo as she steals another card, while Kiara gives Pope a look of mock suspicion, accusing him of stacking the deck.

The room feels light and carefree, but then the door creaks open, and Rafe and Topper return, both of them noticeably jittery, their energy somehow more frantic. The camera catches Rafe’s eyes darting around the room, his smile a little too wide, while Topper shifts uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Y/N, sitting across from them, catches the odd behavior almost immediately. She narrows her eyes, side-eyeing the pair as they try to blend back in with the group. Something about their sudden restlessness doesn’t sit right with her.

"Everything okay with you two?" Y/N asks, her voice casual, but there's an edge to it. She watches them both closely, her intuition already on high alert.

Rafe’s smile falters for a fraction of a second before he grins again, but it’s a bit too forced. "Yeah, just a little… bathroom break. You know how it is," he says, his words coming out too quickly, and Topper nods in agreement, though he looks less convinced.

Y/N doesn’t buy it. Her gaze flickers between them, but she says nothing more, instead focusing on the game at hand. Still, the unease she feels lingers in the back of her mind, and she can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted in the atmosphere, something no one else has noticed.

The group resumes their game, but the tension is palpable, the playful mood slightly dimmed as Y/N glances from one of them to the other, trying to ignore the growing suspicion gnawing at her.

The evening grows late, and the atmosphere is electric with tension and laughter as the group continues to play games. Music plays softly in the background, but there’s a palpable shift in energy. Everyone seems to be loosening up, the drinks flowing freely, but Y/N can feel the weight of the subtle animosity building between Rafe and JJ.

At one point, JJ, clearly trying to lighten the mood, hands Y/N a drink, flashing her a smile that feels a little too friendly.

"Here you go," JJ says, holding the drink out to her with a playful grin.

Y/N reaches out to take it, but before she can, Rafe steps in, leaning casually against the arm of the couch and holding up a drink of his own. "Actually," he says, voice dripping with smugness, "I made this one. It’s better."

Y/N hesitates, glancing between Rafe’s drink and the one in her hand. JJ’s eyes narrow as he steps forward, his tone sharp. "Oh yeah, definitely trust a drink from this guy," he sneers, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

Rafe smirks, never one to back down from a challenge. "Jealous much?" he taunts, his voice smooth and mocking, the edge of competition clear in his words.

The group falls silent for a moment, the tension palpable. Y/N can feel the heat rising between them, and before she can even respond, JJ throws a quick, biting remark. "You’ve always been a joke, Rafe."

Rafe’s smirk falters, the jabs hitting harder than expected, and before anyone can intervene, the argument escalates. JJ steps forward aggressively, his face reddening with frustration. "You think you’re so much better than everyone else," he spits out, his voice low and dangerous. "You don’t even belong here."

"You don’t even know what I’m capable of," Rafe retorts, his eyes flashing with anger.

Without warning, JJ’s fist flies through the air, connecting with Rafe’s jaw in a brutal punch that echoes through the room. The impact sends Rafe stumbling back, but he doesn’t fall. His bloodied lip splits open, a trickle of red staining his chin. The room erupts into chaos, everyone scrambling to intervene as the physical fight between the two men intensifies.

Y/N watches in shock as Rafe wipes the blood from his lip with a slow, almost amused expression. The fight spirals out of control, but Y/N steps forward, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Stop it, both of you!" she demands, her tone harsh as she locks eyes with Rafe.

The camera focuses on Rafe’s face, his bloodied expression somehow matching the twisted, dark smile creeping across his lips. He looks at Y/N, his voice low and mocking. "Really? You’re disgusted by me, but you came twice." His words cut deep, and the room goes silent, everyone holding their breath as the weight of what he just said hangs in the air.

Y/N’s face flushes with anger, her eyes flashing with pure disgust. "You sicken me," she spits out, her voice trembling with fury.

JJ, enraged by the comment, charges at Rafe again, but Pope and Kiara are quick to grab hold of him, holding him back with all their strength. JJ struggles, fighting against their grip, but Pope and Kiara are firm, keeping him from lunging at Rafe once more.

Rafe stands there, his bloody face a picture of sick satisfaction as he watches JJ struggle to break free. His smile widens, a cruel, almost victorious look in his eyes as he surveys the chaos he’s caused.

The camera zooms in on Rafe’s face, bloodied and twisted with that unsettling grin, while Y/N watches him, still seething, her hands shaking with the anger she can’t quite release. The fight, though momentarily halted, lingers in the air, the tension so thick that it’s impossible to ignore.

The group remains frozen, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them all as the night feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something far darker.

Next time on OBX: After Dark...

The screen fades in from black, showing a quick montage of the tense aftermath from the night before. Each roommate speaks in their own confessional, offering their thoughts on the explosive events.

JJ’s Confessional: "Man, things got way too heated last night. Rafe’s just... a walking headache, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep my cool with him around."

Kiara’s Confessional: "Honestly, I’ve never seen the group like that. I thought we were here to have fun, but now it feels like a ticking time bomb."

Pope’s Confessional: "It’s getting out of hand. We’ve gotta stop this before someone gets seriously hurt. I mean, JJ throwing a punch—what’s next?"

Cleo’s Confessional: "I hate that I’m caught in the middle of this mess. I just wanted a good time... but I don’t think anyone’s having fun anymore."

Sarah’s Confessional: "Rafe and JJ… that was wild. But if I’m being honest, I’m kind of over the whole drama. Maybe I should’ve never let it go this far."

Topper’s Confessional: "Yeah, last night was intense. But honestly? It’s just gonna get worse from here. I’m not here to play nice anymore."

Rafe’s Confessional: "Everyone thinks they can control the situation. But I’ll tell you one thing—nobody gets to call the shots but me. This is just the beginning."

The screen flashes forward to the next day, showing Topper and Rafe exchanging sly grins as they invite a group of girls into the house. The camera zooms in on the shocked faces of the other roommates as they watch from the kitchen, their anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Y/N’s Confessional: "Topper and Rafe really think they can just bring people here like that? It’s like they don’t even care how the rest of us feel."

John B’s Confessional: "This isn’t a frat party. What are they trying to prove? We don’t need more chaos."

The screen cuts to Kiara and Sarah in the middle of an intense argument, their voices raised.

Kiara (yelling): "What, that you're a liar?"

Sarah (snapping back): "No, that you’re a shit-talking bitch!"

The room goes silent for a moment, followed by an exaggerated "Oooh!" from the rest of the group. The other roommates exchange shocked glances, their eyes wide at the sudden escalation.

Pope (whispering to Cleo): "Did that just happen?"

Cleo (eyes wide): "I think we’re about to see a whole new level of chaos."

The camera zooms in on Kiara and Sarah, both standing with fury in their eyes as the tension builds. The other roommates exchange nervous glances, unsure of how this argument will play out.

Coming up... The screen cuts to black as the voiceover echoes with suspense.

"Who will be pushed to their breaking point? And will the tension finally explode?"

taglist: @mymadokamagica @izurelia @davinashifts333 @hello-therree @cyberkitty1

[rafegetinmybed]

i dunno if you're gonna write smut or not ( no pressure bcs if not like i totally get it ) but maybe a lil fic where reader and bsf!rafe are watching a movie but he finally admits he doesn't just wanna be friends.. ? if you dont do smut you could easily make it suggestive instead !! ( you dont have to take this req, just thought i'd help ur writer's block )

I am gonna do smut, Im actually working on a longer one right now!! And I love this idea, sorry it took me a while to get back to it, Ive been doing school work.

Cw: p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, I think that's all but lmk

bsf!rafe x y/n

The Kissing Booth

you and your best friend rafe cameron were having your weekly movie night together, and you had somehow convinced him to watch The Kissing Booth with you though you weren't really sure how. you were laying with your head on his shoulder and his arms around you as you often did, you didn't really think anything of it because you guys had been this close for as long as you both could remember. even though you secretly had a crush on him you could never even think that he would like you back. he had never had a girlfriend before because he much prefered casual hookups or so you thought.

as it got to the part in the movie where elle is at the kissing booth facing her crush you start to ramble on about how cute the scene is and how you wished you could have a relationship like that. rafe looked at you with admiration as you rambled on and then before you knew it his lips were colliding with yours in a slow, passionate kiss. before you had time to process what was happening he was already pulling away.

"y/n," he said softly "i like you, like a lot"

"rafe, i-" you barely got out before he interupted you.

"no actually i love you y/n. i've always loved you. all those random hookups were always just a distraction-" he said before getting cut off by the feeling of your lips on his.

"i love you too rafey" you said softly as you pulled away from the kiss. feeling a coldness on your lips from missing the heat of his, though this feeling didn't last long because before you even finished your sentence he was pulling you up onto his lap and connecting your lips once again. this kiss was deeper, more sensual and filled with want.

you found yourself tugging at the hem of his white t shirt to signal to him that you wanted it off. he broke off the kiss long enough to get his shirt off and tossed it to the floor.

"can i?" he asked gently motioning to the little pink cami you had on.

"y-yeah, of course", you stuttered out. flushed from seeing him shirtless, i mean yeah sure you'd seen him shirtless before at the beach or at the pool but here and now was completely different and you were taking it all in. his hands worked to get your shirt off and you slowly started grinding on his lap

"ohh fuck" he let out in a low groan, and you felt his hard on getting bigger underneath you as his hands moved to sit on the top of your ass slowly guiding your hips. he moved his hands up to wrap around your waist as he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist, walking the two of you over to your room and setting you on the bed as he stripped off his pants. walking over to you and and taking off your tiny matching pink shorts, leaving you in only your lacy bra and panties.

"you're so perfect y/n," he mumbled to you. "are you sure you want this?" he questioned, never wanting to push you into anything.

"yes, i'm positive rafe" you replied as your hands went to the waistband of his boxers teasing him slightly.

he pushed you back on the bed pulling you into another deep and needy kiss as his hands worked to remove your bra and panties and then his boxers, his cock springing up to hit his abs. he deepened the kiss further, one hand behind your head pulling you in and the other one working its way down to your core. he slid his fingers up and down your slick folds bringing your wetness up to rub circles on your clit. you moaned into his mouth and he moved his lips down to your neck kissing, sucking and nipping making sure to leave marks so everyone knew you were his now.

you moaned his name as he slipped in one finger, thumb rubbing your sensitive bud.

"yeah you like that princess? I love it when you moan my name like that." he groaned out, slipping in another finger and increasing his pace.

"shit rafe that feels so good" you forced out in between moans and whimpers, throwing your head back onto the pillows you squeezed your eyes shut getting lost in the pleasure.

"you gonna cum on my hand baby?" he questioned and grabbed onto your jaw making you look back at him. "eyes on me princess, i wanna watch you"

"oh fuck rafey, i'm so close.." you screamed out bucking your hips at his hand to reach that spongy spot. rafe chuckled and stuck in a third finger increasing his pace even more and pulling you into a kiss. you moaned and whimpered out his name as you came on his hand and he continued to finger you, riding out your high. he slowly pulled out, you whining at the feeling of emptiness inside you, he brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them clean, grinning at you.

"taste so sweet baby, think you can handle more?" he questioned, eyes and hands wandering over your body as he took in how beautiful you looked.

"I guess we'll have to see" you smiled at him, eyes hungry with lust. you slipped out from under him and turned him over so you were now on top. you grinded on him teasingly, "baby please," he moaned as you kissed his neck, leaving a few marks of your own. "need you now, please". you pulled away from his neck and reached down to grab his dick, lining it up with the entrance of your tight pussy and sliding slightly down on it. you both moaned as you slid down either further onto his thick cock. " fuck y/n you feel so good" he growled at the feeling of you around him. you winced softly at the enjoyable pain of race stretching you out and his words made your walls clench around his length. rafes hands found their way to your hips and he gently pulled you down the rest of the way onto him, staying like that for a short second to adjust yourself to him. "shit rafe you're so big it hurts" you whined out quietly, smiling at him before slowly rising and falling back down on his dick.

still adjusting to his size you stay slow at first, gradually increasing your speed until your at a nice steady tempo. rafes hands dig into your hips holding and guiding you with each bounce, your head falls to his neck as you moan his name, "rafe, baby i'm so close." you manage to get out into moans and your walls clench around him again making him throw his head back and let out a loud groan.

"i know princess, me too" he says, voice rough from the pleasure taking over his body. your legs start to shake and and you get even tighter around rafes length as your thrusts get sloppier and more uneven. you scream and moan as you reach your high again staying on his cock to ride out your high. not far behind you feel rafe twitching inside of you "please cum in me rafe, i need it in me" you say. "fuck y/n whatever you want baby" rafe says matching your sloppy tempo as you feel his warm seed spill inside of you and he moans out your name.

you pull him into kiss with him still inside of you, not wanting this moment to end. eventually he flips you over with ease and slowly pulls out of you, you whimper at the feeling and watch as he walks away to get a warm cloth from the bathroom. he comes back and wipes you down gently with the warm cloth, you shiver at the sensation, still very sensitive, and he laughs lightly.

"you're mine now baby, all mine. i love you y/n" he says pulling his boxers back on and handing you his shirt to put on.

you giggle, taking the shirt "I've always been yours rafey, i love you too" you reply, putting the shirt on. rafe gets into your bed next you laying down with one arm around your waist and the other drawing patterns on your arms and back. he kisses your neck and you guys fall asleep like that, together just like how you've always imagined.

[xxnashiraxx]

WIP Wednesday

WHAT'S THIS?? ME?? Doing a WIP Wednesday on a Wednesday? Doing one at all?? 👀

Thank you to @khywren, @elinorbard, @heylittleriotact (this isn't exactly a first page one, but I'm counting it!), @bloodinwine (I think this was last week? Sry for the delay!), @obsessedwhyyes, @deadly-diminuendo, and @vividiana for the tags and who all posted lovely snippets!! 💕

We are finally transitioning from Act 1 to Act 2- this is a small piece from Chapter 17 of With Stars to Fill My Dream, Ofelia's POV, after the tiefling party and her night with Astarion. Ah, I remember when I wasn't writing angst. Feels like ages ago. 🙃

It’s like a chilled breeze, brushing against the back of her neck to leave goosebumps in its wake. All her muscles knit together until sinew becomes so taut that she feels like everything is about to fall apart. Dread, like sharp claws, sinks into her chest, and with every bit of willpower she can muster she turns and makes for a different room. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere she can force it all back down. Nothing to fix. Nothing to fix. Nothing to fix. “I can’t… do this right now…” She whispers to herself, hands madly clutching at each elbow to stave off the impending weight trying to crush down on her. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He is not worth the breakdown. He is not worth the tears. He’s not worth falling apart for. “This is your fault, remember? You went out there... like he said. It’s your fault.” She spits the words out like broken teeth, feeling the pounding in her head begin to recede. Eyes squinted shut, she repeats the motions, breathing in and out as evenly as possible. The roar beating like a drum in time with her heart demands a remedy, but she’s not ready… not sure she’ll ever be ready… She beats it down until all that’s left is the bleed. The cuts in her lips, the ache that throbs from marrow to fingertip. Until all thats left is the creaking of wood and the rustle of leaves outside the broken window to her right. Her eyes drift open slowly, focusing on broken plates and cutlery strewn about the floor. Pools of candle wax litter the tables and floors, and water covers the ground like a mirror. She looks down into her reflection, not recognizing the dark eyes that stare back… Where had all the light gone? She sighs and turns, startled to find her private moment trodden upon. “What’s he done to you?” Shadowheart murmurs, soft and measured. There is no waver to her gaze, no waver to her words. They climb out of her throat like an accusation- one where she’s already decided who the guilty party is and has made it her vow to vanquish them. “N-nothing… just… all the charred bodies…” Ofelia’s excuse sounds weak, even to her own ears. Try as she might, she cannot erase the hitch in her breath, and Shadowheart’s eyes hungrily register it with a murderous gleam. “Bullshit.” “I really need you to drop this. Nothing happened. I’m fine.” She doesn’t like it, but she allows only a drop of repressed anger to fill her words. There’s a flash of hurt on Shadowheart’s face, but it quickly recedes into her shadowed green eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I even brought you something nice,” The half-elf snips cooly, adjusting some kind of garment in her arms. Ofelia’s gaze drops to look at it, noting the metal and heavily woven leather and fabric. “I’m sorry… look, I’m really okay,” Ofelia plasters a smile over her face, forcing herself to feel it. Remembering all the times she needed to wear one to pretend like nothing bad was happening at home. She crinkles her eyes, forces them to be brighter, and lifts her lips in what she hopes paints a picture of relief and gratitude. Shadowheart analyzes her for a moment before the hard glint of steel softens in her gaze and she steps forward, closing the distance to stand a foot or so in front of Ofelia. “If you’re sure…” The end of Shadowheart’s sentence is open, allowing a bit of wiggle room for Ofelia to take it back, but she grits her teeth and forces her mouth to spread wider, showing a bit of teeth. “Pfft, you just want this, don’t you?” Her laugh is sweet- like balm over Ofelia’s scattered nerves, and she rolls her eyes and wraps her arms around the cleric to hug her tight. For a moment, Ofelia’s afraid she’s squeezing too tight- revealing too much in the desperate way she clings to Shadowheart’s narrow frame. There’s a huff against the shell of her ear, and then arms are winding around her, strong and sturdy for someone so small and it takes everything Ofelia has to hold back a sob that starts to push up through her chest.

No pressure tags for my loves! 💗 @pinkberrytea @caffeinatedmunchkin @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @badbloodwitch @justabiteofspite @ladyduellist @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lanafofana @roguishcat @busy-baker @bardic-inspo @kalmiaphlox @bludazey @coyote-mint @nerdallwritey @andromedaancunin @nyx-knox +anyone else who wants in! pls tag me so I can come ready your lovely snips! 💕

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 32

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Character List

Authors Note: There are a couple of time skips in the one... and it's a short one. I'm sorry this took so long. I'm not really feeling this story anymore but, I still want to have it completed. The next chapter picks right up after Chapter 31... Enjoy 💙

August 23rd 2021

Christopher hated Pensacola… Mainly because Airielle was in this stupid ass city right under his nose. He frowned as he looked at the apartment building before him, it was… nice but it wasn’t as nice as the townhouse he had brought her, the one she had left behind.

He took a deep breath before entering the lobby and making his way up the stairs to her floor. The frown was still on his face as he thought about how easy it was to gain access to her. 

“Still fucking stupid” He muttered as he picked the lock and no alarm sounded as he made his way in. He set the bouquet of pink roses and white lilies down on the counter as he moved through the space, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. She was still a neat freak, nothing was out of place. He made his way through the apartment making a mental note of where everything was… just in case. 

He let out a soft chuckle as he made his way into her room, it was a carbon copy of the one back at their townhouse. He made his way over to her dresser and opened the jewelry box she had on there. He frowned as he saw her engagement ring was not in there. Taking a deep breath as he closed the lid of the jewelry box.

He eyed the dresser drawers. He opened the top one and let out a frown at what he saw. With a look mixed with disgust and fury, he angrily reached into the drawer and pulled out a pair of freshly washed boxer briefs. Christopher knew who they belonged to, that tattooed, freak that she was currently on vacation with. He clenched his jaw as he tried to keep his anger in check but as he stared down at the underwear in his hands, all he saw was red. Christopher blacked out and destroyed Airielle’s apartment. 

When he came to, he found himself standing amid utter chaos. The once pristine apartment was now a war zone. Shattered glass crunched beneath his feet as he surveyed the damage, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The dresser lay on its side, drawers spilled across the floor. Clothes were strewn everywhere, some torn to shreds.

He calmly made his way into the living room and looked at the damage he had done there in his rage.  The coffee table was overturned, and books and magazines were scattered. The TV screen was smashed, a fist-sized hole in its center. He walked over to the flowers he left on the counter and walked back into her bedroom, scattering them all over her bed. He pulled the note out of his pocket and left it on her pillow.  With one last look, he left the apartment altogether, locking and shutting the door behind him. 

September 2nd 2021

Janelle Roy stared at her mother as she watched her sister and that man leave the Waffle House. “Mom?” Janelle called out. “What do you mean that’s your daughter? I thought you said we only had brothers.” 

Abigail ignored her youngest daughter and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She hurriedly sent the text and put her phone away.  “Mom!” Janelle called out again, growing agitated with Abigail. “What is going on!” 

Abigail grabbed Janelle’s hand and pulled her outside the restaurant. Abigail let out a curse as she saw the Ford peel out of the parking lot. “Listen.. I’ll tell you everything later, just let me –” 

“No!” Janelle cut her mother off. “Tell me now! Why have you never mentioned this other child? You told us about Isaiah and Josiah… why never her?” 

“Cause I hate her!” Abigal exploded and Janelle’s eyes widened. “That girl has caused me nothing but pain and misery since I found out I was pregnant with her!” Janelle stood there in shock listening to her mom talk about her sister. The sister she never knew she had. As Abigail sat there spewing hateful shit about Airielle, Janelle felt herself grow disgusted with her mother, If she could say these things about Airielle, then Abigail could most definitely say the same thing about her. 

“That’s your daughter!” Janelle cut her mother off. “How could you say that about her?” 

Abigail started shaking her head. “No sweetie, you don’t understand. I’m not the problem she is and by the end of this month she will be dealt with.” 

Janelle stared at her with pure disgust. She took a step back from her mother. “I can’t even look at you right now.” She muttered, pulling her phone out of her pocket and opening the Uber app. She was thanking her lucky stars that she had the address to the hotel.  “Have you been taking your medication?” Janelle asked after she put her phone away, eyeing her mother. 

Abigail scoffed. “I don’t have to tell you anything, Janelle. You’re my daughter. And you will help me take down your sister.” 

“Take her down... Do you hear yourself right now?! I know you haven’t been taking your medication I’m calling Dad.” 

Abigail snapped and reached for Janelle’s phone, snatching it out of her hand and tossing it into her purse. “You ain't calling nobody!” she yelled, and Janelle took a step back from her mother. For the first time in 25 years, she was afraid of her mom. Janelle watched as Abigail put her phone to her ear and started talking in a low tone. Janelle knew she had to find a way to contact Airielle and warn her about their mother. 

September, 2019

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The doctor told Airielle softly before turning on his heels and walking out of the room. Airielle shakily placed both hands over her stomach. Three months… she had been three months pregnant and she lost it. 

She didn’t know why she was so upset, she didn’t even know she was pregnant. She hadn’t been prepared for this moment. She hadn’t been expecting a child. She hadn’t had time to feel the joy or the excitement or the fear that so many women spoke about when they learned they were pregnant.

“Solèy” Her dad whispered, his voice sounded just about as broken as she felt.  “Why didn’t you come to me and your mom? Why..” Issac paused as he tried to gather his emotions but looking at his babygirl in a hospital bed, her face all brused and swollen made him sick to his stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” Airielle cried. She was sorry for a multitude of things, sorry for not telling her parents what Christopher was doing, sorry for being so weak for not fighting back and sorry that she lost her child. 

“Airielle, you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Issac said, his voice firm despite the tears welling in his eyes. He moved closer to the bed, gently taking his daughter's hand in his own. "This isn't your fault. You are not to blame. It him. You’re gonna press charges right.” 

Airielle froze. She was scared. Christopher was going to do worse once he found out she went to the police. 

“Dad I-” 

“Airielle. You’re not going back there. When you get discharged you’re coming to Pensacola. I be dammed if I let you go back.”  Issac gripped Airelle’s hand in a comforting manner. “You’re not alone in this Solèy, I will be there with you every step of the way.  I won’t let him hurt you again. Not ever.” 

“I don’t want to go back to him, Dad,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to go back to any of it.”

Her father’s hand, still warm and steady in hers, gave a gentle squeeze. “You won’t. We’ll make sure of it.”

Authors Note: Christopher is BANANAS! Abigail is BANANAS! Airielle needs to keep her head on a swivel when it comes to those two.

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @empressdede

@harmshake @paigereeder @li-da-savage @nbanenefrmdao @alyyaanna

@theninthwonder @raya-hunter01 @abadbitchblogs @jaethaone @mzv11

@shantinextdoor @sheydnni @xmonetsworld @bebesobrielo @kill-the-artiste

@yana3sworld @bookuce @sageispunk @amandairene88 @rianasixx

@vebner37 @mindairy @saintaquarius @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa

@sayyestoheav3nn @xbriexx @princess-saki1 @kat3457 @queeny23

@rebelrel0987 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @fearlesschimera

@msselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom

[skay-ali]

I give up, I'm tired

Hey, Lord, you know I'm tired

Hey, Lord, you know I'm tired

Hey, Lord, you know I'm tired of tears

Hey, Lord, just cut me loose

You hummed a song, even if all that liquid ran through every part of your body, without the strength to move you continued repeating the notes.

Your view began to change, it was no longer an empty white room, now the dark place in which you were locked, lamenting without the strength to move from the worn mattress on the floor, now a beautiful light filtered through your eyes.

"oh lord make everything stop, I surrender"

"I give up"

"I'm so tired of trying"

"I give up"

You opened your eyes, you only remembered the rays of light that invaded your vision, you could barely move before being invaded by a new place.

A smiling girl appeared before you, always seeing you, giving you a charming smile and recognizing that she saw you, very different from the other people who only recognized the girl but never recognized you, didn't you exist?...

You saw yourself dragged to follow the girl, the only one who could act with her surroundings, you saw her try to continue being happy with her surroundings.

The little girl followed her father, she called him dad with so much love, as if her life depended on him, always giving him a smile with eyes full of light and adoration, unlike the girl, the father only left her aside and was cold. The girl always ended up running and taking your hand, you felt her small body tremble, her lips joined together and formed a grimace, eyes, oh hairy eyes full of an innocent shine... they changed for another shine, when stopping at a door and hiding in a corner of a large room, the girl would let go of his hand and shed many tears...

For some reason they could play together, unlike the girl and her brothers, who never accepted her invitations and pushed her away.

Even with a crown and a beautiful dress, with a large tea set, you saw the little girl collapse in tears, while she ate some cookies and cakes.

That was until she took your hand again, after so many times she took it, you returned the touch, maybe it was hurt or the affection that you began to show her.

I take you to a large table, in another of the thousands of lonely rooms of the large house where I lived. In a second the large empty table changed.

There you were lying down, feeling a lot of pain.

"What... what's happening" you were scared when you were lying on a table being watched by the same girl who always smiled at you, now she was wearing a fake smile very different from the ones full of hope and love she had, dull eyes looking at you, a corpse was your new spectator.

"What??? did you do to me" scared you looked at the quiet girl.

"Not you who made me... who made us" his voice is broken, full of fear.

"we were never supposed to cross that line"

Then you remembered it with great horror... you were that girl, you lived through all that torment to which you were insensitive, you did this... being lying on a large table with a beautiful dress, and a bottle next to you .

Oh all this pain...

Yes, you are in your great suffering, a great party, a few more minutes and they would find you, thousands of eyes would see you, they would witness your madness.

And then no one would look at you, not even in that hospital where you were recovering from your act, some men dressed in uniform later took you, even when you resisted, cried and begged your beloved father not to leave you in that place, not to let you.

would abandon You asked and promised to be a good girl, to be everything he asked of you... anything but he wouldn't let you.

You only saw him look away and leave.

You cried, you cried a lot, as you always did, but this time there were endless days, where you felt nothing but pain, your heart hurt so much.

You felt so weak in this new place, but not only sadness, you didn't sometimes feel so much anger for... your beloved family.

And then more sadness, you needed them, no matter how much you hated them, you loved them, you felt like you were dying without them, just thinking about one of your brothers or father gave you a flood of tears.

You gave up all your life you did, since you were little, but lately, you gave up on everything around you.

And you didn't want to suffer anymore, for insignificant things.

But it was too late and you were nothing more than a disaster.

And you gave up on everything around you, you were just a spectator to your eventual end.

But that smile, that girl...

you Was there anything else waiting for you?

You would damage that girl's dream

And you would just leave

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 4: Holding My Breath

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: mentions of Jan. 5th,2025 game

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: now it's your turn to be the protective one... even when it doesn't feel needed

Welcome to chapter 4 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The energy in the Villanova arena was electric, the sounds of cheers and squeaking sneakers bouncing off the walls. I was in my usual spot courtside, camera poised to capture every moment of UConn’s brilliance. Paige was on fire tonight, orchestrating plays with precision and flair. Each assist she delivered drew gasps from the crowd and smiles from her teammates.

“Bueckers with nine assists so far!” the announcer boomed, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

It was the third quarter, and the Huskies were up by a comfortable margin. I adjusted my lens, tracking Paige as she hustled down the court for a loose ball. That’s when it happened.

The collision was sudden, violent even. Villanova’s Jasmine Bascoe dove recklessly into Paige, her body slamming into Paige’s left knee. The way it bent back made my stomach churn. Paige hit the floor, clutching her knee, her face twisted in pain.

My heart stopped.

“its so quiet you could hear a pin drop” one of the announcer said just before getting quiet again

“Are you kidding me?” Paige’s voice cut through the chaos as she struggled to sit up. “That’s a flagrant foul, goddamn!”

She tried to brush off her teammates’ hands as they rushed to her aid, but the pain was evident in her movements. She sat on the court for what felt like an eternity, cradling her knee before finally being helped to her feet. The crowd clapped politely, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than her limp as she made her way off the court.

“Paige…” I whispered under my breath, frozen in place.

A tap on my shoulder jolted me back to reality. It was KK, her expression tense.

“Coach wants you to check on her,” she said. “You’re the only one she’ll actually listen to right now, and able to swiftly get back there.”

I hesitated, glancing at the camera in my hands, then back to KK who was looking from me to coach. My job was to document the game, not leave in the middle of it. But one look at Paige disappearing into the tunnel made my decision for me.

The locker room was eerily quiet compared to the roaring arena. Paige was sitting on the bench, a bag of ice pressed against her knee. Her head snapped up when she saw me.

“Y/N?” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“KK, Coah G and practically the whole team sent me,” I said, setting my camera down on the bench. “Are you okay? That looked really bad.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her wince as she adjusted the ice said otherwise.

“You don’t look fine.”

She sighed, running a hand through her now ponytail freed hair. “It’s just a tweak. Nothing serious.”

“Paige…”

“Y/N, seriously. Go back out there,” she said, her tone softening. “You’ve got a game to film. I’ll be fine.”

I hesitated, my worry warring with her insistence. “Are you sure?”

She reached out, her hand brushing against mine. “I promise. Go.”

Reluctantly, I nodded, picking up my camera. “If you’re not back on that bench in five minutes, I’m coming back here.”

She smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Deal.”

True to her word, Paige returned to the bench a few minutes later, though she didn’t play for the rest of the game. I kept glancing at her between shots, watching the way she cheered for her teammates, evwn cover ger face from time to time, with her knee and ankle still wrapped in ice.

UConn dominated the rest of the game, winning 85-52. The final buzzer sounded, and the team erupted in celebration, but my focus was on Paige.

As the players headed toward the locker room, I packed up my gear quickly, determined to catch her before she disappeared again.

“Paige!” I called as she limped toward the tunnel.

She turned, her smile widening when she saw me. “Hey, photographer extraordinaire.”

“How’s the knee?” I asked, falling into step beside her.

“Sore, but nothing I can’t handle,” she said, her tone light.

I frowned, unconvinced. “You don’t have to downplay it, you know. It’s okay to admit when you’re hurting.”

She stopped walking, turning to face me, with her signature grin. “Y/N, I’m fine. Really. But thank you for worrying about me.”

Her sincerity caught me off guard, and for a moment, all I could do was nod.

“Now,” she said, her grin returning. “Let’s get out of here before KK and Azzi start teasing us again.”

That night, as I reviewed the footage, I couldn’t help but focus on the moment of Paige’s injury. The way she fought through the pain, the determination in her eyes—it was all so… Paige.

But more than anything, I couldn’t shake the way she’d looked at me in the locker room, her vulnerability shining through despite her bravado.

I didn’t know what was happening between us, but I knew one thing for sure: Paige Bueckers was impossible to ignore.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[rowanthestrange]

Wait, actually the Master misunderstanding Doctor Who Is A TV Show and thinking he’s in a book would be great. Last time we see Dhawan!Master he’s a storyteller, written loads of books about the Doctor’s life, River parallels Melody Malone etc. there’s a very bookish element there.

So you have the Master come in and he’s like…actively narrating himself.

And everyone in-universe thinks he’s crazy, and we the audience think it’s funny cus he’s got the wrong medium.

But.

He hasn’t. Because there will be a novelisation of the episode. And the times we’ve ever got anything from the Master’s POV or following him, it’s nearly always in book form not the TV show itself. His life is novel-based.

[hoonigiris]

heeseung + literature TA pls....... ily

hello.... i come bearing gifts more than 3 months late but at least she is Here....

[brooklynislandgirl]

9 movies that you could watch 500 times.

tagged by: my darling C @nightmarefuele

tagging: Anyone who Andy Samberg would call a major cinophile. Bonus points if you get the reference.

[violentdevotion]

I had multiple dreams last night.

I had a bf </3

someone in my family got bit by a zombie </3

some guy made me explain narrative structure to him </3

[reputationstaylors]

sighs