#welcoming thoughts and opinions on any of these.

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (12)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player!Rafe & Supermodel!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 7k words

Aliyah's Notes: me when i come back to life after a month of inactivity ☝️😈 say goodbye to the good times guys we're slowly falling into hell

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, surrounded by a chaotic pile of clothes scattered across the floor. Dresses, skirts, jeans, and even your old sweatpants were strewn about like the aftermath of a fashion war.

Living with Rafe for the past two days had been an adjustment—his penthouse was sleek, modern, and always spotless… a stark contrast to your current state of disarray. It made you self-conscious sometimes, like when you’d spilled coffee on the pristine marble countertop and panicked while scrubbing it clean before he noticed.

Your brows furrowed as you held up a pair of ripped jeans and a plain white crop top. “Too casual,” you muttered, tossing them aside. Next came a flowy sundress. “Too try-hard.”

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you sank onto the edge of your bed, arms crossed. Why were you putting so much thought into this? It wasn’t like this basketball game was your debut as his fiancée. Well, technically it was, but it’s not like anyone expected you to look the part. 

Or maybe they did? 

Rafe hadn’t given you any details, just a cocky grin and a, ‘Don’t embarrass me.’ The memory of his smirk made you groan.

You picked up a sweater, holding it against your chest before throwing it onto the growing pile. Why does it even matter? It’s just his stupid game. You’re going because… You paused, biting your lip. Because you lived with him now. Because you were his fiancée. Because showing up wasn’t optional.

Your gaze drifted to the jersey draped over the back of your chair. His number, 13, stood out in bold print. Would wearing his jersey to the game feel too... personal? No, that was ridiculous. People wore jerseys all the time. It wasn’t special. It didn’t mean anything. 

Right?

Right.

You hesitated before picking it up, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric. It smelled faintly of his cologne, and something about that made you pause. You shook the thought away and slipped it on, the material loose and comfortable against your skin. It paired surprisingly well with the black mini skirt you’d put on earlier—a little sporty, a little casual. Perfect. You turned to the mirror, adjusting the hem and smoothing out the fabric.

For a split second, you wondered what he’d think when he saw you. Would he tease you? Would he flash that grin that somehow made your stomach flip? The thought made your chest tighten, and you scolded yourself immediately because you didn't care about his opinion.

Your cheeks warmed despite your internal protest. Grabbing your bag, you made your way to the door, slipping on your shoes with determined efficiency. Your phone buzzed just as you were about to leave. Unlocking it, you found a series of messages from Rafe.

Rafe: You better not be late. Superstition or not, you’re about to be my good luck charm.

Rafe: BTW, try not to drool too much when you see me on the court.

Your lips twitched despite yourself, a reluctant smile creeping onto your face. You quickly typed back:

You: Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just going there for the snacks.

His reply came almost immediately.

Rafe: Liar. You’re obsessed with me.

Rafe: BTW, that jersey on the chair? My idea. You’re welcome.

You blinked at the screen, heat prickling at your neck. How does he know? The man must’ve had a sixth sense for reading your mind. Or he’d guessed—he did that a lot too. Before you could think of a retort, another message popped up.

Rafe: Also, don’t leave without turning off the kitchen lights again. Unless you want me to write you a manual for living here.

Your lips twitched despite yourself, a reluctant smile breaking free. He was insufferable, and yet the thought of him noticing the smallest things—like your mistakes or your outfit—made your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready to admit.

You: Good luck, Rafe. You’ll need it.

Rafe: The only luck I need is you in that jersey.

You rolled your eyes, locking your phone and shoving it into your bag with a shake of your head. His ego was unmatched, but as you stepped out the door, a tiny flicker of anticipation stirred in your chest—a feeling you couldn’t quite name but weren’t ready to let go of either.

The leather seats of the car felt cool beneath you as you shifted in place, fingers tapping restlessly against your bag. Gregory, your driver, glanced at you through the rearview mirror, offering a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about the delay, Miss. It’s the construction on 5th Avenue—completely backed up. I’ll do my best to get you there on time.”

“It’s fine, Gregory. Not your fault,” you replied with a sympathetic smile.

Outside, the glow of brake lights illuminated the street, a reminder of how hopelessly stuck you were. The distant sound of car horns blended into the hum of the city, making the minutes feel like hours. You glanced at the time on your phone. Rafe’s game had probably started, or was about to.

With a sigh, you opened your messages, typing quickly.

You: Traffic’s insane. Running late.

The reply came almost immediately.

Rafe: Typical. My fiancée can’t even show up on time.

You rolled your eyes, already expecting the teasing.

You: Not my fault NYC doesn’t know how to manage its roads.

Rafe: I’ll pass the message along to the mayor. Very helpful.

You could practically hear the smirk in his words.

You: Be serious for once.

Rafe: I am serious. If you miss me scoring, it’s grounds for annulment.

Your lips twitched despite yourself, fingers hovering over the screen before typing back.

You: Don’t tempt me.

Rafe: Tempting you is, like, my full-time job.

You leaned back against the seat, biting back a grin. The nerve of this man. The audacity. Still, his ability to lighten the mood—even when he was being insufferable—was irritatingly effective.

You: Just play well. I’ll be there soon.

Rafe: Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’m saving all my best moves for when you’re watching.

You locked your phone with a shake of your head, stuffing it into your bag. Gregory, ever the professional, glanced at you again.

“Almost there, Miss. Just a few more blocks.”

“Thanks, Greg,” you murmured, tugging at the hem of Rafe’s jersey. The fabric felt oddly comforting against your skin, a reminder of the strange new reality you were navigating. Living with him, wearing his number, showing up to his games like a dutiful fiancée—it was all so... surreal.

By the time the car pulled up to the arena, the faint roar of the crowd was already audible. You stepped out, adjusting the strap of your bag and smoothing down your skirt. Gregory gave you a small wave before driving off, leaving you standing at the entrance with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

As you made your way through the bustling hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the lingering stares. Heads turned, whispers followed, and you caught snippets of conversations that made your stomach twist.

“Oh, my God! That’s her, isn’t it? YN YLN?”

“She’s gorgeous. I saw her in that Vogue spread last month.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think it’s a weird match? She doesn’t seem like his type.”

“I heard their engagement was super sudden. Like, out of nowhere.”

You kept your head high, forcing yourself to focus on the sound of your heels clicking against the floor. The familiar pressure of public scrutiny was something you’d grown used to as a model, but this was different. This wasn’t about your career. This was about you—your personal life, your choices, your supposed love story with Rafe.

The tension only grew as you climbed the stairs to the seating area. You found your seat with your name on a piece of paper, sliding into the seat and exhaling slowly. The crowd around you was buzzing with excitement, their cheers and chatter filling the air. You adjusted the jersey again, pulling it down slightly as your eyes scanned the court below.

Players were warming up, their movements fluid and confident. Your gaze lingered on Rafe almost instinctively. He was standing near the bench, laughing at something one of his teammates said. Even from a distance, his presence was magnetic—broad shoulders, easy swagger, and that stupid grin.

You were so focused on him that you almost didn’t notice the glances directed your way. A group of women a few rows ahead whispered behind cupped hands, casting subtle looks in your direction. Two men seated nearby exchanged knowing smirks, as if they’d just shared some private joke at your expense.

Your phone buzzed in your lap, pulling you from your thoughts.

Rafe: You better be watching. Game’s about to start.

You glanced down at the message, your lips curving into a faint smile.

You: I’m here. Stop texting me and focus.

Rafe: Can’t help it. You’re too pretty. I can’t look away.

You stared at his reply, the words making your chest tighten. He had a way of saying things that left you questioning whether he was teasing or if there was something deeper hidden beneath the surface. Shaking your head, you locked your phone, determined not to let him get to you.

But as you tucked your phone back into your bag, you couldn’t resist the pull to look up. Your eyes scanned the court, weaving through the blur of players warming up and the steady hum of the crowd. Then, you found him.

Rafe stood near the bench line, towel slung casually over his shoulder, his stance relaxed but commanding. He wasn’t talking to his teammates anymore or listening to the coach’s instructions.

His attention was fixed on you.

The moment your eyes met, it felt like the air shifted. The noise of the arena—the cheers, the clapping, the announcer’s voice—all seemed to fade into the background. It was just him, standing there, looking at you like the game didn’t matter. Like you were the only thing that did.

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, one that was entirely too confident for its own good. Slowly, he tilted his head, his blue eyes holding yours with a softness that contrasted the cocky energy he carried on the court.

Then, he mouthed the words, “You’re so pretty.”

You felt your breath catch, the heat rising to your cheeks as his gaze lingered. It wasn’t just the words that made your chest flutter; it was the way he looked at you, like he was seeing something no one else could.

Heart pounding, you mouthed back, “Focus on the game.”

His smile deepened, transforming into a grin that made your stomach flip. He shook his head lightly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Can’t.”

The unspoken word hung between you, and for a moment, it felt like the space between the court and the stands wasn’t so far after all. There was a vulnerability in his expression, a quiet intensity that made you wonder if he meant more than he was letting on.

He lifted his hand, brushing his thumb across his chin in a subtle motion, but the meaning was unmistakable: he was thinking about you.

The referee’s whistle blew sharply, breaking the spell. Rafe turned back toward the court, tossing the towel to a teammate with a practiced ease, but not before glancing at you one last time. His gaze softened, and for a fleeting second, you could have sworn there was something unspoken in his eyes—something that felt dangerously close to longing.

You exhaled shakily, your hands tightening around the strap of your bag. Around you, the crowd erupted as the game began, but your focus was still on him. The way he moved, so sure of himself, every step purposeful, every pass calculated—it was mesmerizing.

The arena buzzed with energy as the game commenced. The rhythmic dribble of the basketball and the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished court filled the air, blending with the cheers of the crowd. You found yourself transfixed, your gaze locked on Rafe as he moved across the court with the ease of someone born to dominate the game.

He was commanding a force of nature. Every movement was deliberate, powerful and precise. He wove through the opposing team effortlessly, his presence undeniable as he directed his teammates with sharp gestures and focused intensity. The scorebag flashed: 2-0. Rafe’s team was already pulling ahead, and it was clear who the driving force was.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Every time he scored, the arena erupted, but your heart thudded for a different reason. There was something magnetic about the way he played—a mixture of skill, confidence, and an edge that made it impossible to look away. Even from a distance, you could see the determination etched on his face, the slight smirk when his shot landed perfectly in the net, the way he winked at you.

This was Rafe Cameron at his peak, untouchable and undeniably captivating.

Suddenly, the seat next to you shifted. You felt the slight weight of someone standing next to you, but you didn’t glance over. Your attention remained locked on Rafe as he leapt to intercept a pass, the sheer athleticism in his jump drawing another cheer from the crowd.

But then, a familiar voice cut through the noise, low and dripping with condescension.

“Well, this is unexpected.”

Your stomach dropped, and for a fleeting moment, the lively arena seemed to tilt and blur around you. Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away from the court, where Rafe had been dominating with his usual confidence, and turned to the source of the interruption.

There she was, Chiara Romano, lounging in the seat beside you like she owned the place. She looked as impeccable as ever, her designer coat draped artfully over her shoulders, not a single strand out of place. Her lips curved into a smug smile that made your stomach churn, her perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly against the armrest.

“Chiara,” you greeted flatly, forcing a polite smile that didn’t come close to reaching your eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you here... sitting next to me,” you added under your breath, your tone laced with barely concealed irritation.

“Of course I’d be here,” she said breezily, flipping her hair over one shoulder in a gesture so practiced it felt rehearsed. “Rafe and I go way back, you know. I’ve been to more of his games than I can count.”

You clenched your jaw but refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you turned back toward the court, your eyes automatically searching for Rafe. “That’s nice,” you replied tersely, hoping to end the conversation there.

But Chiara wasn’t one to take a hint.

“You know, basketball games can be overwhelming if you’re not used to them,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. “The noise, the energy, the spotlight—it’s not for everyone.”

“I’m managing just fine,” you replied evenly, your voice steady despite the simmering annoyance beneath the surface.

“I’m sure you are,” she said with a patronizing little laugh. She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other as if settling in for a long chat. “So,” she said with an air of faux curiosity, “how’s life been since we last saw each other? It’s been, what, almost a month?”

You resisted the urge to groan. The last thing you wanted was to engage in small talk with her. “Not much,” you replied curtly. “You?”

Chiara’s eyes sparkled with amusement, as if she relished the power dynamic of the exchange. “Oh, nothing too exciting,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Then, with a calculated tilt of her head, she added, “But ‘nothing much’ seems like a strange way to describe getting engaged. That’s pretty big, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Chiara’s smile widened, and she leaned in just a fraction, as though to share some intimate secret. You instinctively recoiled, unnerved by her sudden proximity. Whether it was meant to intimidate you or to ensure you heard every word of her next comment, you weren’t sure.

Either way, you didn’t like it.

“I have to admit something,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was surprised to hear about the engagement—” Womp womp, you thought. “—I mean, Rafe never struck me as the settling-down type.”

You exhaled sharply, turning to face her with a calmness you didn’t quite feel. Your voice was smooth, but the edge was unmistakable. “Maybe he wasn’t with the right person to give you that impression.”

Chiara’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing together in a thin line. The sudden shift in her posture told you everything—you’d struck a nerve. “And you think you’re the… right person?”

You leaned in just slightly, your gaze sharp and unyielding, your lips curling into a smug smile that didn't reach your eyes. “Well, I mean, I’m the one he plans to marry, aren’t I?”

The words landed like a slap, and for a brief moment, her face flickered with a blend of jealousy and frustration, a brief vulnerability that she quickly tried to mask.

“Right,” she nodded, the sound forced. “But you do realize, Rafe isn’t usually into girls like you. He has... a type. Or at least, he used to.”

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused by her attempt at a jab. “Okay?” you said, a little too casual.

She laughed bitterly, flapping her hands in the air, clearly trying to backpedal. “I didn’t mean anything bad by that. You’re beautiful, sure, but you’re just not the type Rafe typically goes for.”

Was she serious right now?

What’s so surprising about a white guy only being interested in white girls? Did she think I was born yesterday?

You scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that info, Chiara? Am I supposed to fall apart? ‘Oh no, another white guy who doesn’t like brown girls like me. My life is over. I wish I was white.’ Is that the reaction you were hoping for?”

Chiara blinked, clearly thrown off by the intensity in your voice. The color drained slightly from her face as you held your ground, watching her squirm just a little.

“You think you're clever, don’t you?” she said, her voice now tinged with frustration, but you could see the crack in her facade.

“Not really,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just tired of people thinking they can throw their insecurities at me and watch me flinch. But I don’t play that game.”

Her jaw tightened as she glanced around, searching for a way to regain control. “You know, you’re not exactly what he needs. You’re all—” She gestured to you, eyes sweeping over your appearance, “—flashy, a model, all glitz and glamour. But Rafe needs someone real. Someone who actually gets him.”

You leaned forward just a bit, a challenge flickering in your eyes. “I’m pretty sure I get him just fine. What you’re really trying to say is that you can’t stand the fact that he’s chosen me. And it’s not because I’m not ‘his type.’ It’s because I’m the one who got him. And that’s something you can’t wrap your fucking head around.”

The words landed heavy, and you saw the small twitch in her eye. For a brief moment, she looked almost... vulnerable. Then, just as quickly, the facade slipped back on.

Chiara scoffed, her lips curling into a tight smile. “You’re just a placeholder. He’s going to get bored of you eventually.”

"Listen," you began, stepping closer to Chiara, your voice steady and sharp. "I’m here to watch my fiancé win his match, not waste my time arguing with someone who clearly peaked in high school. So why don’t you take your insecurities and your cheap, high-school jabs and shove them so far up your—"

"Hey, baby," a familiar voice interrupted, smooth and warm like honey.

Your head snapped to the side, and there he was—Rafe, running to you, with that signature cocky grin. His hair was damp with sweat, strands clinging to his forehead, and his jersey clung to every ridge of his chest, leaving very little to the imagination. The gleam of sweat gliding down his forearms and neck made your mouth dry, and for a moment, you completely forgot where you were.

"Did you see that dunk I just pulled off?" he asked, his tone a mix of pride and boyish excitement.

You barely registered the words because all you could think about was how ridiculously good he looked. His muscles practically strained against his jersey, his shoulders broad and commanding. Even the sweat dripping from his jawline seemed unfairly attractive.

Damn it, why did he have to look like that right now?

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus as Rafe jogged up the steps toward you, his eyes lighting up when they met yours.

"Did you see it?" he pressed, still grinning.

"Yeah," you lied, your lips curving into a soft smile as you reached up to adjust the collar of his jersey. "Don’t let it go to your head, though."

“Too late,” Rafe chuckled, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “That dunk? It was for you. Thought you might like it since, you know, you’re my good luck charm and all.”

You raised a brow, fighting to keep your expression indifferent, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Really? Do I look impressed?”

He inched closer, the grin on his face softening into something that felt almost intimate, his voice dropping lower. “You look hot, actually.” His eyes flickered to your lips for a heartbeat before meeting yours again. “Seeing you out there with my number on your back? It’s driving me insane.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat when his gaze lingered just a little too long, sending your heart racing.

“Cameron! Get your pussy-whipped ass back on the court!” JJ Maybank, his teammate, shouted echoed from across the gym.

Rafe groaned, the spell broken, before dropping his head dramatically onto your lap with a low chuckle. He turned his face to press a quick, feather-light kiss to your cheek, the touch leaving you both flustered and breathless, before he jogged back to the court.

For the next 30 minutes, everything was perfect. The energy was electric, Rafe’s team seemed to win and every time he did so he’d send a wink in your direction. You felt good, peaceful. You felt comfortable, almost like you were meant to be here cheering for him. It was too good that you almost forgot Chiara’s presence next to you… until she spoke.

“You know, Rafe and I used to have this little tradition after his games,” she said casually, as though the memory had just occurred to her. “We’d go to this rooftop downtown—he always said it was his favorite view of the city. We’d stay up there for hours, just talking about everything and nothing. It was… special.”

Your grip on your drink tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the court. Rafe had just stolen the ball, and the crowd roared as he raced toward the basket.

“You know,” she began, almost lazily, “Rafe and I used to have this little post-game ritual. He’d always say I was his good luck charm—”

Your heart clenched painfully. The phrase echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting like broken glass. Good luck charm. That was what Rafe had called you just today, his lips brushing your ear as he teased you in the stands. It had felt personal, intimate, like a secret between you and him. But now it seemed cheap, rehearsed—just another line he used, a meaningless phrase recycled from his past with others.

You kept your face neutral, though your pulse thundered in your ears.

“He always said he couldn’t play his best unless I was watching,” Chiara continued, her voice tinged with amusement. “It was sweet, really. Afterward, he’d grab my hand, pull me into his car, and we’d drive down to this diner he loved. He insisted the milkshakes there were the best in town.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from finding Rafe on the court. He was electric, his movements precise and powerful, his confidence unmistakable. But as you stared at him, anger and hurt churned in your chest. You felt foolish, betrayed, for letting yourself believe you were special to him.

“And when he scored that game-winning shot last season,” Chiara added, leaning slightly closer as if to deliver the final blow, “he said it was because I was there. He made me feel like I was part of it, you know? Like we were a team.”

The game’s final whistle blew, and the crowd erupted in cheers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to clap. Your hands stayed clenched in your lap, your eyes locked on Rafe as he turned toward the stands.

His gaze swept across the crowd until it landed on you.

You weren’t smiling. You weren’t even standing. You just sat there, staring at him, your emotions too tangled to mask. Hurt, anger, and disappointment simmered beneath the surface, your expression giving away enough for him to know something was wrong.

Rafe’s brow furrowed, his grin disappearing entirely as he took a step closer, clearly intending to come over. But you didn’t wait. You pushed yourself up from the seat and turned on your heel, weaving your way through the crowd toward the exit.

“YN!” His voice carried over the noise, confusion laced in his tone. You didn’t stop.

He called your name again, louder this time, his footsteps heavy behind you as he tried to catch up. “Hey, wait—what’s going on?”

But you couldn’t face him. Not now. Not with your chest tightening and your mind replaying Chiara’s words like a broken record. Good luck charm. The phrase rattled in your head, mocking you for ever thinking you were something new to him.

Just as you reached the corridor leading out of the stadium, Rafe’s hand grabbed your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“YN, stop,” he said, his voice firmer now, though there was still a trace of confusion in it. He turned you around gently, his blue eyes searching yours. “What the hell is wrong?”

You yanked your wrist free, your emotions bubbling too close to the surface. “You're such a fucking asshole,” you snapped in your native language.

“I don’t know what you're saying!” he said, confused. “What is this? Why are you walking away from me?”

“Hey!” His tone was sharper now, frustration evident as he jogged after you. You were halfway down the empty corridor when his voice rose again, louder this time. “What the hell is going on?”

Still, you didn’t look back.

Rafe finally caught up, his footsteps heavy as he moved in front of you, blocking your path. “YN, stop!” he barked, his chest rising and falling with exertion. His blue eyes searched your face, desperate for answers. “What is wrong with you?”

You gave him nothing, your expression unreadable as you stared past him, silent and unyielding.

“Seriously? You’re just going to ignore me?” Rafe demanded, his voice rising with irritation.

You crossed your arms, your jaw tightening as you stepped around him and continued walking. He let out a low curse behind you but followed, his confusion giving way to simmering anger.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured as he touched his hair before going back to shower quickly and change.

Rafe stepped into the dimly lit private parking lot, his thoughts tangled in knots as he tried to make sense of your behavior. The tension from earlier lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took. What could he have done to make you this angry? He replayed the events in his mind, searching for answers but coming up empty-handed.

Then, he spotted you.

You were leaning against his car, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as though shielding yourself from more than just the cold. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, a deep frown etched on your face. Rafe froze for a moment, his confusion momentarily replaced by something softer.

Even now, angry and upset, you looked stunning.

He noticed the way your bottom lip jutted out slightly in an unconscious pout, a habit he’d come to associate with your frustration. It was endearing, almost enough to make him smile if the circumstances weren’t so tense. His eyes softened as he watched you, taking in the delicate lines of your profile and the way your hair shifted slightly with the cold breeze.

But then his phone buzzed in his pocket, the sudden noise shattering the stillness. The sound caught your attention, and your head snapped up to meet his gaze.

The moment your eyes locked, Rafe felt like he’d been struck.

Your glare was fiery, your anger radiating in waves that he could feel even from a distance. It was a look that could melt steel, and for a fleeting second, Rafe thought you might actually set him alight with sheer willpower.

In stark contrast, his own gaze held nothing but intensity, a raw, unguarded passion that made him forget to breathe. He knew you were furious, but he couldn’t stop the way his heart ached for you—or the way you made it race despite everything.

The phone in his pocket buzzed again, but he didn’t bother checking who it was. He pulled it out, pressed ‘decline’ without even glancing at the screen, and slipped it back into his pocket. His focus never wavered from you.

“Can I walk over,” he called out, his voice a mix of humor and hesitation, “or are you going to eat me alive?”

You didn’t respond. Your piercing stare didn’t falter, and the silence felt deafening.

If Rafe was honest, he was a little scared.

Drawing in a deep breath, he willed himself forward. Each step he took felt heavier, weighed down by the intensity of your gaze. When he reached the car, he pulled out his keys, unlocking the doors with a soft beep.

The sound seemed to jolt you, and without a word, you slipped past him and climbed into the passenger seat. He noticed the way you folded into yourself, shrinking away from him as you hugged your arms tighter against the biting New York City air.

Rafe stood outside for a moment, his hand gripping the door handle as he stared at you through the window. You wouldn’t even look at him, your face turned resolutely toward the dashboard. The cold breeze tugged at his jacket, but he barely felt it.

With a quiet sigh, he got into the driver’s seat, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. The tension was suffocating, and as he started the car, he couldn’t help but glance at you again, his chest tightening at the sight of your distant expression.

The car ride was agonizingly silent.

Rafe’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as he stole quick glances at you, each one more anxious than the last. The occasional flicker of streetlights illuminated your face, but you kept your gaze locked on the window, your expression unreadable.

"YN," he started, his voice quieter this time, almost cautious. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on?"

You didn’t even blink.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. "Come on," he said more firmly. "I’m not a mind reader. Just talk to me."

Still, nothing.

He sighed heavily, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “I don’t know what I did to make you this mad, but—”

“Then stop talking,” you interrupted, your voice sharp and cold.

That shut him up. The rest of the drive was thick with tension, the kind that settled in your chest and made it hard to breathe.

By the time he pulled into the parking garage, Rafe’s patience was stretched thin. He parked the car, cutting the engine, and turned to you.

“Are we really going to keep doing this?” he asked, his tone edged with irritation. “You’re acting like I killed your dog or something. Just tell me what’s wrong!”

You ignored him, pulling open the door and stepping out into the cold. The slam of the door echoed through the garage.

“Great,” Rafe muttered under his breath, getting out and slamming his own door harder than necessary. “This is just perfect.”

He followed you into the building, his longer strides catching up to you easily. “YN, stop,” he said, his voice growing more urgent. “Will you please just stop for a second?”

You didn’t.

The moment you stepped into the apartment, you made a beeline for your bedroom. But Rafe was right behind you, his frustration boiling over as he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low and firm. “What the hell is going on?”

You yanked your arm free, glaring at him with such ferocity that he actually stepped back. “Don’t,” you snapped, your voice cutting like a blade.

Without waiting for a response, you stormed into your room and slammed the door shut so hard the walls seemed to vibrate.

Rafe stood there for a moment, stunned. His hands rested on his hips as he exhaled a shaky breath. “Seriously?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Are you for real right now?”

From the other side of the door, you could hear him pacing. His voice grew louder, tinged with disbelief and frustration.

“YN, come on! What the hell is your problem? Why are you acting like this?”

You pressed your back against the door, your arms wrapping around yourself as your emotions warred inside you. Chiara’s words played on a relentless loop in your mind—good luck charm—and your chest ached with a confusing mix of anger and betrayal.

When Rafe’s voice came again, it was louder, more exasperated. “I don’t get why you’re so mad!”

That was it.

You flung the door open, your eyes blazing as you stepped out to face him.

“You don’t get why I’m mad?” you snapped, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “Are you serious, Rafe? You really have no idea?”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard by your sudden outburst. “No! I don’t!” he shot back. “One second we’re fine, and the next you’re acting like I did something unforgivable!”

“Your good luck charm!” you practically yelled, the nickname tasting bitter on your tongue. “Every time I think you’re finally getting better, that I can finally get along with you, something comes along and ruins everything. It’s like I can’t trust a single thing you say, Rafe!”

Rafe’s brows furrowed deeply, his confusion palpable. “What are you even talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” you snapped, your voice breaking as emotion overwhelmed you. “Chiara. She said it—she said you used to call her your good luck charm. That you couldn’t play without her watching. And then you—you turn around and call me the same thing. Do you have a script you use with women, or am I just another recycled chapter in your pathetic little book of tricks?”

Rafe’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He stared at you, stunned, as if trying to process what you were saying. “I—I never said that to her,” he finally managed, his voice quieter than before. “I don’t even know why she’d say that. I’ve never called her my good luck charm.”

“Oh, so now she’s the liar?” you shot back bitterly, crossing your arms. “Convenient, isn’t it? Blame her, act like you didn’t do anything wrong. But why would she make that up, Rafe? Why would she lie about something so specific?”

“I don’t know!” he said, his voice rising in frustration. “But I swear, YN, I never said that to her. That nickname—it’s yours. I called you that because I meant it. Because that’s what you are to me. I don’t just throw that around like it’s nothing.”

His words were raw, almost pleading, but they didn’t soothe the ache in your chest. You shook your head, stepping back. “How am I supposed to believe you? After everything—after all the lies, the games, the constant reminders that I’m just another person in your long, messy history—you expect me to just take your word for it?”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his every movement. “I’m not lying to you, YN,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I know I’ve screwed up in the past, and I know I’ve given you a million reasons not to trust me. But this—this isn’t one of those times. Chiara’s lying, or twisting things, or—I don’t know. But I do know that I’ve never felt about her the way I feel about you.”

Your breath caught at his words, but you forced yourself to stay guarded. “And what way is that, exactly? Because it feels like I’m constantly walking a tightrope with you, Cameron. One wrong step, and it all falls apart.”

Rafe took a hesitant step closer, his expression pained. “I don’t want it to fall apart,” he said softly. “I’m trying, YN. I’m trying to be better—for you. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I don’t always get it right, but I care about you."

“If you care about me as much as you say you do,” you said, your voice trembling but steady, “then tell me what happened between you and her.”

Rafe froze, his jaw tightening as the weight of your words hit him. He took a small step back, almost as if putting physical distance between you could lessen the pressure. His eyes darted away, avoiding yours, and you could see the conflict etched into his face.

“Why?” he asked, his voice low and hesitant.

“Why?” you repeated, your voice rising as the flood of emotions inside you threatened to break free. “Why?!” Your chest heaved as you tried to contain the frustration boiling over. “Because if we’re going to have something real, something fresh and healthy, I need to know what happened between you two. I need to understand, Rafe.”

His brows furrowed deeply, and you could see the panic in his eyes. “I don’t… I don’t think I can,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your breath caught in your throat. You felt your heart tighten, the ache in your chest spreading as tears stung your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep them from falling, but it was no use.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice cracking. It wasn’t angry or accusatory—it was resigned, heavy with disappointment.

“YN, wait,” Rafe pleaded, stepping toward you, his voice desperate. “I—”

“No.” You cut him off sharply, your voice suddenly firm despite the tears streaming down your face. You held up a hand, keeping him at bay. “I don’t want to hear it, Rafe. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Rafe stared at you, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words. But for the first time, you didn’t want to hear them.

Before he could say anything else, you turned on your heel and walked back into your room, slamming the door shut once more, leaving him standing there in silence.

The silence between you was deafening.

Rafe’s hand hung loosely by his side as he stood outside your door, staring at the wood like it would somehow provide answers. His chest rose and fell unevenly, the weight of your words still pressing on him like a heavy stone. The anger in your eyes, the way you looked at him—he could still feel it burning into him. But more than than, there was something else, something far deeper that gnawed at him, something that felt like it was tearing him apart.

With a frustrated groan, he let himself slide down the door, his back hitting it with a thud. He bent his knees, resting his head in his hands for a moment as he exhaled deeply, his mind racing with confusion. Why did this feel so goddamn difficult?

He had always been good at avoiding things, at keeping his distance from complications, at never allowing anyone to get too close romantically. But with you, it was different. Every touch, every look, every moment felt like something that mattered. More than that, it felt like it was changing him in ways he wasn’t sure he could handle.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up inside him like a storm waiting to break.

What the hell is wrong with me? he thought. Why am I so messed up about her?

The sound of movement behind him made him glance up. You had shifted as well, and now you were sitting on the floor with your back against the door. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, your face buried in your hands. It wasn’t a sobbing kind of silence, but more like two people utterly drained from the weight of everything that had happened.

He wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension. But words felt useless right now.

Ten minutes passed. Neither of you moved, both of you stuck in your own swirling thoughts. Rafe could hear his heart thundering in his chest, the confusion churning inside him. He wanted you. Badly. He could feel it—every inch of him aching for you, wanting to close the distance between you, but something held him back.

It wasn’t just the anger. It wasn’t just the words that had been said. It was the fear.

The fear of losing you, of fucking everything up, of showing you the side of him he’d spent so long burying deep inside.

Chiara. The past. His mistakes.

He had told himself that he could protect you from all that. That you didn’t need to know. But sitting here, staring at the door like it held all the answers, he realized how much he needed to open up. He needed you to understand.

“YN,” he muttered, his voice strained, “I… I can’t do this anymore. I’m so fucking lost.”

He hesitated for a second, feeling his throat tighten. “I don’t know how to do this,” he confessed, his voice breaking just a little. “I don’t know how to make it right between us. I just… I need you to understand. I need you to know what happened.”

Behind the door, you still didn’t look up, your face hidden in the shadows of the room, your eyes closed as though bracing yourself for the storm that was coming.

Rafe’s hands shook as he finally opened up, his emotions raw and unguarded in a way he had never allowed himself to be.

“Chiara,” he started, his voice low and rough. “She wasn’t just some ex. She was part of my life when I was at my lowest. When I was 19, I was… I was a fucking mess. I was lost. I was drowning in everything—drugs, alcohol, all that shit. I didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t care. I was just… numb. I needed something to keep me afloat, and Chiara, she was there. She was a part of that world. I don’t know why I thought she was the one who could help me, but she was. And I used her, just as much as she used me. We were a fucking disaster.”

He stopped there, the words tasting bitter in his mouth, but they were true. They were the only truth he had been hiding.

“I went to rehab, and when I came back, everything was different. But Chiara, she was still there, still holding on, and I didn’t know how to cut her off. I didn’t know how to let go. She was struggling, and I felt guilty—so I kept her around. I thought if I just… if I just stayed close, maybe I could make up for all the shit I did. I don’t know. But I wasn’t being honest. Not with her, not with mys I saidelf.”

His breath hitched, the weight of the past crashing into him like a wave. “And when I’ve never called her that. My good luck charm. I don’t know how she knows about it but I promise you, on everything precious in my life, I’ve never called her that… But when I say it to you, it’s different. It means something. You’re not some… replacement for her. You’re not some fucking substitute. You’re real. And that scares the hell out of me.”

He exhaled sharply, his voice barely above a whisper.Rafe leaned back against the door again, his head pressed to the cool surface, his eyes closing as a wave of exhaustion hit him. He was exposed now, more vulnerable than he had ever been, his heart in pieces. He had said everything that had been suffocating him, and yet, the silence still felt like it was swallowing him whole.

He waited, his breath shaky, his thoughts a whirl of regret and hope and fear. All he could do now was wait for you to respond, to open the door—or for you to walk away, to decide that he wasn’t worth the risk.

The waiting was unbearable.

chapter thirteen

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[harrysxcarolina]

casually fallin’

b. eilish

warnings: wlw, smut, cussing, under age alcohol consumption, I think that’s it but let me know if there is more

wc: 7.8k

New Years Eve

december 31st, 2020

freshman year

The air was crisp. The moonlight sparkling against the still snow emphasizing the quietness in the air. Breathing in deeply, the cold air tickling your skin, a shiver runs down your spine. Gripping the balcony banister welcoming the cold.

“Please don’t stay out there too long, wouldn’t want you catching a cold.” You hear through the cracked sliding door. Chuckling to yourself you take one last look at the moon before making your way back into the warm room.

“I was just taking in the view. No need to worry.” You respond. Catching your first glance at your best friend definitely not missing her outfit choice of the night. A tight form fitting dress that stopped mid thigh. A slight slit on the right side. Fixating on her curves perfectly. You nod in approval.

“Yeah well you’ve taken in the view every night since the night we first got here. When are you actually gonna go out and partake in the activities made for the view?” Chelsea states, chuckling as she throws her makeup brush in your direction.

“You know what. At least I showed up. You know I hate any type of outdoor activity that involves snow.” You retorted, picking up the brush and placing it down on the bed next to her.

“Hey I’m just impressed you actually left the room during this trip. I guess we have Billie to thank for that.” She jokes as she gives you a suggestive look. A smirk working its way across her face.

“Oh please. What does she have to do with this?” You state as you feel the slight pull in your core at the mere mention of her name. Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the last couple days you’ve spent with Billie that was planned specifically for skiing. Yet the both of you couldn’t be bothered as you both preferred the heat of the fireplace. The warm hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. The coziness of the lodge as it was decorated for the holidays. The lights off the Christmas tree twinkling just right as you sit on the floor next to the fireplace trying to teach her how to play chess.

The tea you would eavesdrop on from the other guest as you both curled up on the leather couches sharing a sugar cookie Billie bought from the hot cocoa stand in the lounge. You both lose yourselves in laughter at some of the gossip you’ve witnessed. You didn’t realize how much time you’ve spent with her. Getting up and making your way to your side of the room you begin to rummage through your bag. Actively trying to avoid the sharp stare coming across the room like daggers from your best friend.

“You couldn’t be more oblivious could you?” Chelsea questions as she shoots up from her spot on the bed and plops down onto yours. “You do realize she gives you the ‘please fuck me’ eyes anytime you guys are in the same room.” She whispers as she makes herself comfortable on the bed.

Eyes growing wide you glance up finally making eye contact. “Oh my god. She definitely does not. Plus we aren’t even sure if she like girls. She’s only ever been with guys.” You state as you hold up a dress for her opinion.

Shaking her head, gently pushing you out of the way she begins her own search through your stash of clothes. “That you know of! All that matters is who her attention is on. News flash. It’s you. It’s always you. The only people who don’t see it are you two. How cliche. Almost like it was written straight from a rom-com.” She finishes with a scoff as she holds up a black dress that reaches mid thigh. “This is it.”

Rolling my eyes, and grabbing the dress. “We are just friends, and even if you don’t believe that I’m not out. Only you know, remember? As far as we know, neither is she. She has given no indication that she wants anything more anyways. Everything has been platonic between us.” Making my way to the bathroom groaning under my breath trying to rid the thoughts of the situation and closing the door slightly.

“You’ve hung out every single day we’ve been on this trip. I heard her telling Ava that the only reason she came on this trip was to talk to you. She chose this school trip over going home to see her family for the holidays. That has to mean something. You can’t tell me otherwise. I think tonight might be the night love bug.” Chelsea states, fully standing her ground. “You totally like her though, right?” She questions causing you to pause your undressing and catch your own reflection in the mirror. You’re quiet for a moment. Processing her words.

You totally like her though, right?

Peaking your head out from the bathroom. Catching eye contact we stay silent.

”You already know that I-“

“No. Don’t start that bullshit. It’s simple. Do. You. Like. Her?” She questions again.

Your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. Nodding you feel your cheeks heat up for the second time that night.

Chelsea’s contagious laugh fills the room. She falls back onto the bed kicking her feet.

“I fucking knew it bitch.” She yells excitedly. Jumping off the bed and running over to you. Definitely not caring that you are half dressed in the dress that she picked out for tonight.

“What better way than to end the year than to confess your feelings for her?” She asks as she wraps her arms around your shoulders pulling you in close. Her cheek pressed up against yours as you both stared at each other through the mirror. You knew you’d have to come clean eventually. You couldn’t deny the feelings that have started to slowly brew ever since the two of you have begun hanging out. Way before the trip. Your bottom lip once again finds its home between your teeth as you feel the flight of a million butterflies in the pit of your belly.

“Breathe.” She whispers in your ear as the smirk spreads across her face. Her fingers danced across your shoulders as you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I’m scared.” You whisper your eyes catching again through the glass.

“We always are.” She states as she lays her head against your shoulder. “You’ll be okay. I know it.”

***

Your grip on Chelsea's hand gets tighter as you both make your way through the sea of people. The smell of sweat and smoke fill the air as the room vibrates from the bass of the speakers. The loud music radiating through the crowd as they all get hyped up for the beat drop. Smirking to yourself you glance around taking in the core memory.

You feel yourself get pulled slightly to the right as you blindly follow Chelsea’s lead. Taking a breath of relief as you see a table of your friends sitting in the back corner of the conference room, the staff has turned the big room into a celebration for the end of the year. The lights decorating the dance floor. The smoke that filters through the air from the fog machine that sat right below the DJ booth. The atmosphere was electric as everyone was ready to start off the new year with a bang.

The room was warm with different bodies as they all danced and mingled together. The rhythm of the music and sways of bodies made butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach. You weren’t one for parties but tonight’s vibe just hit you differently. Unsure of what the night will unfold. Slightly scared, and definitely nervous you couldn’t wait for it to begin.

Sliding into an open chair at the table you say your hellos to your friends already there. Glancing over at Chelsea you both can’t help but laugh at how chaotic that walkthrough felt. Your eyes make work scanning the room looking for one person in particular.

“Don’t worry, she will be here.” Chelsea half yells in your ear over the music. Smirking and playfully swatting her away you try and hide your face in your hand as you reach for a flute of champagne. Taking a big gulp you lean back in the chair as you begin your people watching as Chelsea sits comfortably beside you chit chatting with a girl you believe you had in your Chem class.

“Well look what the cat drug in. We thought you were beginning to think you were too cool to party with us.” Amanda, the girl Chelsea was speaking with, states as Billie makes her way to the table we were all at. A few of her other friends are close behind. She quickly smirks with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Well I’m here now bitches!” She jokes as she bounces her way into the group.

Making her way around the table greeting each person. Saving you for last.

Smirking down at you you catch her eyes quickly glancing you up and down before she quickly grabs an empty chair and pulls it up beside you. Your knees are just inches apart. You swear you could feel the heat radiating off her body as her dark locks cascaded down her back. Leaning back with a slight tilt of her hips, a few pieces fall to frame her face, she adjusts her pants. It was your turn to glance at her as you take your time working your way up her body. Having no shame. Chelsea was right. Tonight was the night. You were going to confess your feelings. You just had to wait for the right time.

Taking in every detail from the way she matched her socks to the color of her shoelaces to how the jersey she was wearing was slightly cut just low enough that it left a gap big enough to see the black lace trim along her bra any time she would fidget in her seat. Which she has done quite a bit since sitting down just a mere few moments ago. Your mouth watering at the sight. Biting your lip to hold back the whimper that was so desperately trying to escape.

“Hey you,” she states as she leans forward searching for your eyes as a smile spreads across her face. Bashfulness spreads through you as you quickly glance down blushing once again, but this time it claims the entirety of your body and not just your cheeks.

“Hi.” You whisper smiling up at her through your laces.

“Do you maybe wanna get out of here for a few?” She asks as you feel her fingertips tease your exposed skin. Softly leaving her trace around your knee.

Nodding your head you watch her smile grow bigger as she slides her chair back and reaches her hand out towards you. Smirking, you grab her hand and stand up. Leaning over you quickly inform Chelsea of your absence before you feel Billie intertwine her fingers with yours and pull you away.

Chelsea throws you an encouraging smile as she waves you goodbye.

Shaking your head, turning your attention to the heartbeat that is taking over your intertwined fingers as Billie looks back at you with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. You both pull yourselves closer as the swarm of bodies invade your bubble. Body parts everywhere as you fight your way through. Her body brushes up against yours as your breath hitches. Her hand on your lower back.

“Stay close, mamas. Don’t wanna lose you in this crowd.” She yells into your ear as she pulls you tighter against her as she turns and begins to lead you through the crowd. Her grip on you tightens, finally getting you both through the tight crowd.

Not sure where exactly she is leading you too but you enjoy the tingles at the tips of your fingers caused by the weight of her hand in yours. “Is this okay?” Billie softly asks as she slows her steps and looks over her shoulder at you. Glancing around the empty lodge you nod your head as you lead her to one of the empty couches you’ve grown custom to next to the fireplace. Welcoming the warmth.

“I’m sorry that I drug you away from the party.” Billie whispers as she takes her seat next to you on the couch playing with the silver rings decorating her fingers. Looking over at her without saying a word you carefully tuck a piece of her fallen hair behind her ear. Your fingertips gently brushing against her cheek. Glancing up at you, the realization of what you just did causes your cheeks to get hotter than they ever have before.

“You didn’t drag me anywhere. I followed..” I wanted to. You state as you quickly tuck your hands in your lap looking anywhere other than into her piercing blue eyes. You felt her stare linger as her eyes trace every curve and freckle on your face. Her body scooting just slightly closer to yours. Your legs now fully pressed against each other as her hand slithers its way along the back of the couch. You welcome the heat from her body and the fireplace as you sink further into her and the couch.

You both sit comfortably in silence taking in the last few moments of the year. The lights twinkling off the tree. The soft Christmas carols playing from the radio behind the check-in desk. The hum of excitement leaking out of the conference hall as you hear the five minute warning before the New Year begins. You feel Billie’s fingertips play with the thin strap from your dress. Her fingers tracing up and down your skin causing goosebumps to rise a shiver across your body.

“You know me and my family do this thing every New Year’s Eve where we go around and we all say one wish that we want to receive in the next year. It’s a silly tradition, but my mom makes us do it every year.” You state as you lean towards Billie. Shuffling around to where you both are now face to face. Only inches apart. Your breath catches. Not realizing how close the two of you are now.

Her breath tickles the tip of your nose as she reaches up only to stop herself half way. Breathing deeply you glance up catching her eyes. Her cheeks are flushed. Pieces of hair loosely falling to frame her face. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth. The black eyeliner painted on her underline made her icy blue eyes pop even more. You’d be lying if you didn’t feel the tension in the air. You’ve thought about this moment so many times before. Never actually believing it would happen.

“What’s your wish?’ She breathes as you notice her chains dancing around her neck as she slowly leans forward. Her minty breath invades your senses as her lips just barely brushes yours. If you were to lean in just a smidge your lips would be locked. You hope you aren’t reading the signs wrong. Taking one last breath there’s no turning back now.

“You,” you whisper.

It’s as if time stopped. Your eyes meet one final time. You hear the countdown begin.

10, 9, 8…

You hear her breath catch as her eyes search yours for any hint of dishonesty.

7, 6, 5…

She isn’t going to find any as this time she doesn’t stop her hand from entangling itself into your hair.

4, 3, 2…

Leaning up onto your knees so you are slightly towering over her, your hands tangle themselves into the collar of her jersey pulling her closer as you finally crash your lips against hers.

1

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

The loud echo of fireworks and the yells of excitement are heard all throughout the lodge, but the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of Billie's lips battling against yours as her fingers tangle deeper into your hair falling backwards onto the couch pulling you with her. Your tongue gently traces her bottom lip not missing the way her hips slightly buck up as you slide one of your hands up her side. Taking in the rise and fall of her chest as your lips continue their battle for dominance. Billie’s hands stay firm as one hand is tangled deep into your hair while the other quickly grips your hip. Heads tilting as the kiss gets deeper.

Pulling away slightly to catch your breath and to make sure that this was actually real you feel your heart beating against your chest. Refusing to open your eyes, your hand still tightly gripping Billies' side. Her chest heaving just as hard.

Her hand not giving you the chance to pull away for long before she is chasing your lips. Capturing yours quickly causing a smile to spread across your face. Her face heating up in embarrassment. The kiss lingers as your lips gently tease each other as they softly brush against one another. Slowly pulling apart for the second time that night you stay lying against her as she reaches up and finally tucks the fallen piece of hair behind your ear.

“Happy New Year, mamas” she whispers against your lips as she looks up at you with a coy smirk playing across her face.

A light hum leaves your lips as you return her smile. “Happy New Year Billie.”

“Ah there you two are. We’ve been looking for you.” Amanda screeches as she bounces her way to the sitting area. You quickly climb off Billie and try and collect yourself as you refuse to look in Billies direction. “Sorry. Just needed to step away from the craziness for a moment.” You state as you notice the hurtful sting you caused Billie by removing her hands from your body. Copying your movements she sits up and adjusts her shirt.

“Yeah, sorry. Lost track of time.” She replies standing up off the couch digging her hands deep into her pockets, her eyes not leaving you. Amanda glances between the both of you for a moment. “No worries. The group is waiting back there if you wanna come join us for shots? Heard it's the tradition here for the freshmen.” She jokes as she leads you both back to the group.

Walking back into the craziness of the party you can’t help but begin to overthink everything about the kiss. Was it simply just because it was the new year or did it hold more? Was it the excitement of kissing someone at the stroke of midnight for her? Did you take it too far? You mind wonders as your hand gently brushes up against hers as you shuffle your way through the crowd back to the table. Glancing up your eyes meet, unable to deciever the flash of emotion in Billies eyes you take a deep breath before making the executive decision to say fuck it and start the new year differently than you have before.

Grasping her hand you quickly interlace your fingers with hers not missing a step as you continue to follow Amanda. You felt her squeeze your hand and you couldn’t fight the smile that worked its way across your face. Biting your lip you steal a glance behind you at the dark haired girl who was closely following. Her eyes already on yours. Her smile matches yours as she pauses your movements. Hands still intertwined her other gripping your waist tightly pulling you flush against her. Looking up at you. Her fingers squeeze your side glancing between your eyes and swollen lips.

“Are you going to ask me what my wish is?” She asks over the loud music. People are still dancing around you as if the night was young. Your face lights up in amusement. Reaching up and gently brushing her cheek. Smirking as you not only see but feel the heat rush to her cheeks.

“What is your wish Bils?” You ask shyly, glancing down at your clasped hands gently playing with her rings. Her fingertips tilt your head back to her attention. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“You. It’s always been you.” She declares her stare never faltering.

“You never said anything. I- I never knew. I thought you only saw this as a friendship.” You state as you pull her closer. Her hand sliding across your lower back not letting go of your hand. “I was scared. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t just a crush. This would be my first time- my first time with a girl.” She gulped, dropping her gaze but quickly bringing it back.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks as she searches your face.

“That I really don’t want to take shots with everybody, and that I’d much rather get out of here with you.” You say boldly not missing her lip biting smirk as she looks up at you with flirty eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Her smirk never fails as she spins you around and pulls you towards the door. Slightly running to keep up with her speed walking you couldn’t help that laugh that escaped as she zig zags you through the crowd. Praying that Amanda doesn’t spot you out as you are almost to the door.

“Uh huh not so fast love birds.” Chelsea calls out as you see her leaning up against the door frame holding three shot glasses in her hand.

“I see you took my advice friend,” She continues as you both stand there watching her as she downs one shot. Billie looks over at your questionably raising her eyebrows in interest. You smile before letting go of her hand and taking the few steps to Chelsea. Grabbing one of her shots you clink the glass against hers before downing yours. Chelsea and Billie both stare at you in shock.

“Do us both a favor and spend the night with Amanda? I’m sure Billie won’t mind would you Billie?” You ask Chelsea, glancing over your shoulder at Billie holding out the third and final shot to her. Licking her lips as she checks you out. Making her way towards you grabbing the shot glass and bringing it to her lips. Eyes never leave yours as she tilts her head back downing the shot.

“Not at all.” She responds as she sets the empty shot glass on a table nearby.

“Yeah I kind of figured when y’all ditched us earlier.” Chelsea chokes out as she pushes herself off the wall and steps between us wrapping her arms around the both of us.

“Have fun kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Chelsea jokes as she looks between us one last time giving you a thumbs up as she pushes Billie towards the door. A chuckle leaves your lips as you shoo her away following close behind Billie.

She reaches her hand back for you as she heads towards the elevator. Taking a deep breath and grasping her hand.

***

You didn’t make it very far before hands began exploring bodies. Lips tangled together as you feel for the light switch inside your room. Her body pressing yours against the door as her hand grips your hip and the other on the side of your neck. Moaning out as she slides her fingers into your hair as the kiss deepens.

Giving up on the light as the hand on your hip slowly slides up your back. Gripping the zipper she begins the slow torture of working it down your spine. Back arching off the door wishing the fabric barrier was already gone and it was her hands skimming your skin. Your hands slide up her arms and tangle themselves in her hair as her lips work their way across your jaw and down your neck. Teeth grazing every so often leaving small marks.

Your breath ragged as the zipper reached its end and her finger tips found your skin.

“Fuck,” you mumble throwing your head back against the door. Her breathing catches as her lips halt on your neck.

“Tell me it’s real. I ne- I need to hear you say it.” She whispers her head falling onto your shoulder trying to slow her breathing down. Looking down and tilting her head back up, quickly moving the stray pieces of hair out of her vision, you softly peck her lips. Pushing off the door you hands gripping her cheeks holding her in place as you lead her backwards. Her lips chasing yours as she follows you blindly.

Your heart is racing. You can feel your pulse deep in your ears as Billies knees buckle against the bed. Hitting the comforter you slowly climb your way on top of her. Your legs straddling her hips towering over her. It was your turn to leave your mark as your lips work their way across her skin leaving love bites in their wake. Lips moving tantalizingly slow working your way down her neck to her collar bones. Her hands gripping and grasping at your naked back moaning at the fact that beneath your dress you are toppless.

“Is this real enough?” You ask. Your tongue tracing shapes on her warm skin. Her chest heaves, head tilted back and eyes squeezed closed. Her head nodded frantically.

“I can feel your heart beating baby.” You whimper as you move your lips to her pulse point on her neck. Sucking it sweetly causing the prettiest of moans to escape the girl below you. You feel her heart begin to beat even faster at the feel of your lips against her warm skin. The pet name driving her crazy. Her grip on you tightens, pleading you to move. To do anything to help relieve the ache building between her thighs.

Moaning in her ear at the glorious friction between your thighs.

“Please,” she begs as her back arches into you as your hand grips her hip, rotating your hips against her gloriously. Her begging echos off the walls. Holding her in place as you feel the wetness start to pool between your legs. Grinding yourself fast against her thighs. Hitting all the right places. Her hands roaming your body as her breathing gets heavier in your ear. Her soft moans and whimpers fuel you as your lips find her neck once more.

She is quick to find your lips. Her hands gripping your face as she takes your bottom lip between her teeth. Her hips buck up against you as her grip moves to your neck. Forcing you to look at her. Your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as a whimper leaves your lips. Her tongue swipes across her lips as she looks up at you. The smile slowly grew across her face.

“You look really pretty,” you whisper shyly looking down at her softly. Your fingers reach up and trace the outline of her face. Starting from her temple, around her eyebrow, down her nose, across her lips landing on her chin. Your cheeks heat up as you watch the moonlight sparkle across her pale cheeks. Noticing the much lighter shade of blue that took over her eyes. Now noticing the cold chill in the room as a shiver runs down your spine. Glancing over you notice the small crack in the sliding door you must have forgotten to close earlier.

Slowly working your way to the end of the bed only to get stop by Billie tugging on your hand. “Where are you going?” She groans sitting up as you slide off her body and shimmy the small black dress to the floor. Her breathing stops completely as she sits there staring at you in awe. Tits out on full display, and the skimpiest black lace thong is the only thing hugging your body.

Stepping out of the dress and thong you smirk before bouncing your way across the room to the door.

“I forgot to close the curtains,” you reply, looking back at her over her shoulder as you pull the curtains shut. Her once soft blue eyes have turned icy cold as they trace every curve and line of your figure. Her teeth harshly biting down on her lip as she slowly stands up from the bed and takes the couple steps to you. Her once straight hair now tangled as it sways from her pace. Her jersey bunched up just above her waist line.

”Who said they had to be closed?” She softly asked her fingertips itch to touch your warm skin again. A gasp leaves your lips eyebrows furrow noticing her slow steps. Swinging the curtains back open as she reaches you.

“Anything you wanna- you wanna try?” You huff out as her hands find your hips pushing them back against the cold door. Her lips find your neck making hasty work. “I want to touch you.” She whispers against your ear. Her hand slowly working its way up your side not missing the goosebumps that follow her trail.

“Fucking shit Bi-“

”I want you to touch me.” She interrupts as your earlobe finds itself between her teeth. Heat consumes your body as she takes over all your senses. The cold chill of the door not helping to cool down your rising heat. “In every single way.” She finishes as her lips leave open mouth kisses up to your lips.

You take no time to find the hem of her shirt and quickly discard it off her body. Throwing it across the dark room not caring where it lands as your eyes take her in for the first time. Groaning and grasping you, pull her flush against you. Lips colliding in a tangled battle as your hands quickly unclasp her bra. Her hands make quick work to unbutton her pants and kick them down her legs. Never breaking apart as your fingers get tangled deep in her hair as her bra is soon added to the clothes collection.

Chest heaving as the kiss gets deeper. Thighs tangle together as you spin your bodies around. She hissed out as her back feels the chill air off the door. Her tongue traces your bottom lip patiently asking for permission. Denying her as you work your lips down her body. Humming softly as you hover above her breast. Looking up at her through your lashes. Her stare already following all your moves. Her chest rises and falls as your tongue gently and oh so very softly teases her nipple.

“Mmm fuck, please-“ She moans arching her back off the door trying to find contact. Gripping her hips you pin her hips right where they were. Licking your lips, taking your time as you leave open mouth kisses on her cleavage. Her moans don’t go unnoticed as you make your way to show the same attention to the other. Her head tilted back against the cold glass as her hands buried themselves deep in your hair pushing your face flush against her breast.

“Put me in your mouth. God you are killing me, pretty girl.” Billie moans out looking down at you with pleading eyes. Wasting no time your lips capture her bud and suck, lick, bite, and twist the sensitive nerve. Over and over again. Repeating your actions getting lost in the way she feels against your wet tongue. The way she sounds from your simple touch. Groaning as your continue your torture even further down.

Between the valley of her breast. Across her tummy giving special attention to the tattoo that lay permanently above her hips. Smirking against her skin as your fingertips trace her pantie line. The thin material gently tickles her skin as you slowly slide them off.

“Are you sure about this Billie?” You ask once more, laying a gentle kiss on her hip looking up at her through your lashes. Glancing down at you she releases her hold on her bottom lip as her tongue traces the pink skin.

Nodding her head yes, as her fingertips trace your jawline.

“Please,” she whispers as her hips buck up brushing against your lips. A moan leaves her lips above you as you grip her hip and lay a kiss to her mound. Your tongue diving between her lips moaning as you lap up her juices. So sweet. Fuck.

Your lips suckling her as your fingernails dig into her skin, your tongue swirling all around getting lost in the taste of her. Her hands bury themselves deep into your hair as her hips grind harder against your tongue. Her back arching off the glass door as you move your tongue to tease her clit.

Billie gasps as you lock her clit between your teeth. “Fuck, look at you kneeling beneath me, suck-fuck-sucking my fucking clit. Shit-right there baby,” She moans as she pushes your face deeper into her cunt. Grinding her hips the way she wants against your face as her free hand reaches up and grasps her tit. Squeezing and twisting her nipple. You groan against her wet heat as your tongue glides between her slit teasing her warm hole.

”God Bils you taste so fucking good,” You moan as you lick your lips grinning up at her. Her breathing ragged as her chest heaved up and down. Her eyes never leave you as you glide your fingers through her wetness. Spreading her wetness all around her clit, kneeling up and tracing your lips across her hip bone. Looking up at her as your teeth graze her skin, your fingers working their way lower into her core.

Her hips buck off the door as your fingertips tease her hole. The tip of your middle finger flirting with her as you leave open mouth kisses across her skin. Humming against her skin, “What do you want baby?” You ask softly as you pin her hips back against the cold door. You notice the small condensation building from the heat of her body and the chilly air seeping in.

“Your fingers. Please,” she whines, fighting your grip on her hip desperately wanting to feel your touch deeper. Smirking you peck her hip once more, “So polite Bils-” you hum as you thrust two fingers into her pussy. Groaning as your grip tightens against her hips aiding in holding her up as she gets lost in the feeling of you between her walls. Your fingers thrusting and rubbing her in all the right places as you twist your wrist. Your lips find their way back to her clit as you swivel your warm buds against her. Flicking, biting, and sucking her as your fingers get deeper searching for her sweet spot. Her moans get louder as her hands grip your head and her hips rock back and forth against you.

“Holy shit, yes right there. Please, don’t stop.” Billie moans as you repeatedly hit that spongy spot that’s driving her crazy. Thrusting your fingers harder against her as you slide your tongue down between her folds missing the taste of her. Your nose rubbing her clit perfectly as her hips rotate even faster.

“Please, please, please,” She whines. “Im so fucking close pretty. Please don’t stop,” she begs as you feel her clench around your fingers. She can feel your smirk against her core as the heat building deep in her belly explodes and consumes her entire body. Her legs shaking as she pulls your face closer, wanting you to take in every drop she has to offer you. Her body sliding down the door as her body shakes against you. Your thumb rubbing circles against her clit helping her ride out her high on your fingers. Glancing up at her you can’t help but marvel at the sight of her.

Lips swollen and red from the constant pressure of her teeth. Her cheeks are rosy pink. Hair tangled and pinned down from sweat. Her chest heaves as her eyes meet yours. A small smirk works its way across her cheeks as she slides the rest of the way down to the carpeted floor. Her hands working their way from your hair to your cheek as her thumb traces your bottom lip.

A blush creeps to your cheeks as her eyes work from your gaze to your lips back up again. Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear you lean your head into her hand. Trying to fight your smile as you gently move her thigh sliding your fingers out. Her hand grips your wrist as your fingers graze her clit. Your eyes meet as she lifts your hands up. You watch her as she lifts your cum covered fingers to her lips. Groaning as she cleans your fingers with her tongue. Making sure to take every last drop before she drops your hand and grips your neck. Pulling you flush against her as her lips crash against yours. Tasting her on her tongue as she slides her tongue against yours in a passionate kiss.

Your legs wrapping around her hips as her hands grip your thighs. Your tongues battle for dominance as your heads tilt, deepening the kiss. Your hands work their way from her neck to her breast. Missing the feel of her under your fingers. Gripping and twisting her nipples as your teeth grip her bottom lip. Biting and pulling it as her back arches up into your touch. Your fingers still slightly wet from being between her lips. Your lips work their way down her jaw to her neck. Leaving a trail of hot kisses along her pulse point.

Tilting her head back giving you more room as your tongue traces random shapes on her warm skin.

Her grip tightens as her hips buck up.

“My turn,” She moans as she pushes you back gently towering over you. Welcoming the warmth from the carper and her lips as she works them up your leg. Taking her time as she kisses every inch of skin. Her hands skim your hip as she slides her leg between yours. Her thigh rubbing up against your core. Moaning at the friction you’ve been neglected from.

Heat burning in all the places her hands touch as they work their way up your body as her lips attack your neck. Her teeth leaving love bites all along your skin as you feel her wetness against your thigh. Your hips grind against her as your hands grasp at her back.

“Billie-“ You moan out as her fingertips pinch your nipple as her teeth dig into the skin at the base of your neck. Your fingers scratch down her back as her hips move faster against you. Moaning in your ear her breathing heavy.

“God you feel so fucking good underneath me pretty girl.” She whispers into your neck. “Being such a good girl. Making me feel so fucking good mamas,” Billie groans as she slides her hand between your thighs. Throwing your head back against the floor and moving your hips even faster as her fingertips find your swollen clit. Begging to be touched and played with. “Just wanna make you feel good pretty, wanna make you feel so good.” She whines.

Her hot breath hitting your skin, your vision blurring as her fingers sunk deep into your cunt as she thrust her fingers inside you without warning you swear you could feel her in your stomach.

Moaning loudly as your back arches into her. “Fuck yes! Just like that shit-” you scream.

Your bodies rocking hard against each other chasing the burning heat growing deeper inside you. Her fingers hitting all the right spots as her hips grind and rotate against you. “Billie I-” you start but are soon cut off by her lips. Capturing your bottom lip between hers swallowing your moans as you begin to clench around her fingers. You couldn’t hold it much longer especially if she kept grinding herself the way she was against you and moving her fingers so gloriously against your walls you needed to cum.

You needed to cum bad and soon. Clenching your thighs around her as you grind harder against her fingers. “Hold it,’ She growls as she glides her dripping core harder against your thigh as you tilt it up causing her to fall into you completely encasing your body underneath her. Your moans echoing off the walls as you grip her hips helping her move against you.

“Please, I wanna cum for you. Wanna be good and cum for you,” you whine in her ear as your lips trace her earlobe. Her hips faulting against you as your words seep into her skin. “Fuck, I’m cumming. Shit- I’m cumm-” She moans as her legs clench tightly around you as you feel her orgasm take over. Her body shaking and convulsing above you as her fingers curl hitting your g-spot perfectly over and over again. Her lips attacking your neck as her body arches into you.

Your grip on her tightens as you hold her tighter against you grinding up against her. Loving the feeling of her losing herself ontop of you. Watching as her body shakes and quivers all because of your touch sends a spark throughout your body. Morning loudly as your bottom lips finds itself between your teeth you can’t fight back the growing need much longer.

“Fuck, be my good girl and cum for me baby. C’mon mamas give me what I want.” She begs in your ear. Her words being the tipping point you needed as you clench around her fingers pulling her deeper into you. Your hips rubbing your cum all over her as you see stars. Moaning her name over and over again as her fingers don’t give up. Her lips still on your skin finding their way back to yours.

Capturing your lips relishing in your moans against her lips as she works your way through your high. Losing yourselves as your breathe in each other's air as you both try to catch your breath. Eyes still closed holding each other enjoying the bliss that is radiating off each other. You hear her giggle softly as she gently pulls back and kisses the tip of your nose.

Your eyes flutter open as you blink away the stars. Her body still on top of yours as your fingers move to trace her jawline. Smiling up at her tucking a piece of falling hair behind her ear.

“Hi,” you whisper as your lip finds its way between your teeth. A chuckle leaves her lips as she carefully removed your lips from between your teeth leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Hi you,” she whispers back as her cheeks heat up. Her free hand traces soft shapes on your tummy. Her body gives off heat as you both lay there engulfed in each other. “That was,”

“Amazing,” you finish, causing a bashful smile to form on her lips. Matching her you catch her eyes as she leans down slowly. Her lips gently brushing against your as you feel her breath fan across your face.

“That’s one word I would use.” She jokes back as she slowly slides her fingers out from between your heat and brings them up to her lips. Her lips caging them in as she closes her eyes enjoying the taste of you on her tongue. “Fuck.” She groans as she sucks them clean looking down at you. A mischief look takes over her face as she leans down and slides her tongue between your lips.

Your hands gripping her neck holding her against you as you battle against her.

“You taste good mamas,’ she groans as she grips the side of your neck. Her forehead laying against yours. You smirk as you trace up and down her spine.

“C’mon we need to get cleaned up and in bed sweet girl.” You whisper as you peck her forehead and gently push her up. Groaning in protest as her hands hip your hips. “Nooo I want to cuddle.” She whines in your neck. As soon as she said the words you felt her body shiver from the cold air. Remembering the still cracked door you both migrated in front of. Gripping her tighter against you briefly.

“We can cuddle in bed. I promise.” You state as you lead her in sitting up. A chuckle leaves your lips as you notice her quiet huff as she stands up and holds her hand out for you. Taking her offer and leading her to the bathroom you squeeze her hand as you glance back at her with a smile.

You can’t help the butterflies that are once again fluttering deep in your belly as her gaze meets yours after they worked their way up your naked figure. “You look so pretty, baby.” She gushes out at you as she follows you willingly.

Your cheeks heating once again at her words. “Thank you.” You whisper with a smile. You grab a washcloth off the counter and turn the water onto warm. Billie makes her way behind you as you stand there waiting for the water to heat up. Her hands find your hips as her lips kiss along your shoulder blade. Her front being completely pressed up against your back. Humming a soft tune as she watches your through the mirror as you wet the cloth. Making quick work to clean yourself and then turning around to clean Billie. Her eyes never leaving yours as you slide your hand slowly down her torso.

Her breathing hitches as you gently grip her hip as your work the warm cloth between her folds. Her body falls into yours. Her hands squeeze you tighter as her forehead lays on your shoulder. Her warm breath hitting your naked skin. Her hips buckle slightly as your graze her sensitive clit.

“All finished.” You whisper as you lay the cloth on the counter. Her body still pressed against yours as she releases her lip from between her teeth and slowly lifts her head looking up at you. She pulls on your hips causing you to fall into her as she connects your lips with a soft kiss. Her hand gripping your lower back steadying you as you lose yourself in her kiss.

“Cuddles, please?” She asks as she grips your hand in hers leading you back towards the bed. Nodding your head in agreement as your smiles match each others. Pushing her gently towards the bed you release her hand and step around her. Her smile falters as her gaze follows you.

“Where are you-“ She begins.

”I still gotta close the curtains.” You state with a smirk as you close the glass door and pull the curtains closed before turning on your heel and bouncing your way back to her. Your body falling into hers causing you both to fall back onto the bed. Her arms wrapping themselves around your torso as she braces you for the impact. A giggle leaves your lips as you peck her lips once more.

Groaning, she grabs your cheek bringing your lips back to hers.

“Cuddles and maybe more kisses.” She whispers against your lips. Leaving you no choice but to nod in agreement as you find yourselves tangled back up in the sheets basking in the heat of her lips on yours.

[eurydicees]

current thoughts on nanowrimo while i only vaguely do work from home (<- dont tell my employers but i don't think i should have to work when i could be writing).

***i will not be using the website due to the pedophilia and lack of moderation issues. i don't want to involve myself in anything even remotely related to that. however imo the challenge of nanowrimo is bigger than the website, and so i'll still be attempting it.

current potential project ideas!

go back to the iwaoisuga atla au. i've got a lot of snippets but nothing substantial, so i would feel fine starting over and just working on that through the month. bonus is that i get to finish my rewatch.

do a prompt/request/event speedrun again. i have a lot of projects i committed to that i need to complete but haven't been looking at recently and i could just work on all those miscellaneous pieces. i actually have around 25 requests that've been waiting for attention so tbh writing a ~2k word one shot per day, give or take, could be great pacing for this challenge. unfortunately i'm probably incapable of keeping a oneshot to 2k. but this could also be an exercise in pacing myself. maybe.

write something original for the first time in so so so long. idk what it would be but i've been wanting to work on original writing again for a while now and this could be the opportunity.....i just don't have any plot ideas. which makes this idea hard. for obvious reasons.

re: original writing. i could do original short stories. this could be fun. it would involve coming up with a new idea roughly every day or every few days. which would be hard. but i've done it before and while i'm out of practice with original writing, surely i can do it again? idk it could be a fun exercise. i do love writing fucked up life altering short stories.

return to my roots and finish the poetry collection. i want to finally complete this. i've been chipping away at it for a while but i want to commit to it. but also i don't think i could get to 50k words with just poetry.....so maybe not this month. maybe save for april 2025 with a lower word count goal? idk. much to think abt with this one. or honestly maybe i can make it 50k. like if i try REALLY hard. very hard maybe on this one.

attempt the iwaoi soulmate + MCD au. i've been tossing this idea around for a while but it's looking like a huge undertaking so i haven't really worked on it. maybe this is my chance? but also it's probably the project idea i'm least passionate about so maybe not this one. i need to choose something i'm crazy abt lol.

finally finish the transforming of the skts mental illness study fic to original writing. this was a project i started AGES ago and then never completed. i actually just remembered it exists while scrolling through old drafts lol. it was a neat project to work on for a while but i got a little burnt out on it, which could bode badly for nanowrimo, which is such a passion-and-stamina-necessary challenge lol. but also maybe the commitment and accountability that's also so necessary for nano would inspire me? kind of a toss up.

thoughts on my november goals!

goal is 50k words in 30 days. go big or go home hit it till it breaks etc etc. i am going to work so fucking hard. i am pouring everything into this. i'm not manifesting, i'm DOING.

i'm 26,266 words away from 1mill words written for nanowrimo (all time, incl april/july camps). this could be such a fun milestone. i will get there. i WILL get there.

i'm also 54,800 words exactly away from 1mill published on ao3, which is also a super exciting milestone.....so maybe i do really want to just write a long ass fic for this.

i'm currently at 12 nanowrimo wins to 11 losses all time, and 6 wins to 5 losses in the november 50k challenge specifically. i am on cusp of something great.

i am also at a streak of 4 november wins in a row. i am DETERMINED to keep it up. like there are literally no consequences for not doing this. i know that. i promise i know that. but still. i am DETERMINED.

[if-you-heart]

A small ramble on Canon vs Fanon, alternatively titled; Hey! You’re part of the “Fanon”! Now what?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot as of recent, I just haven’t had the time to properly jot my thoughts down. I like to put a generous distance between myself and the fanbase that comes with basically any piece of media I get into, and this also goes for the fandom that’s been built around CCCC and the rest of Chonny Jash’s albums. Don’t get me wrong, there are some lovely people here from whom I’ve interacted with (and from how far I’ve been willing to stick my head out of my own little crevice in this place), but I’ve noticed that, unfortunately, this album isn’t free from what’s been happening in more “recent” fandoms.

This isn’t me stoning anyone specifically. This is purely a generalized observation I’ve made during the (checks calendar) 8 or so months I’ve been floating around this space. same goes for every other fandom I check in on.

One of the biggest things l've come to notice the most is how the line between "canon" and "fanon" seems to be blurring more and more each day. Especially here. CCCC is first and foremost an album covering another album. Things are not explicitly narrated like a storyline you'd see in a movie or something. That doesn't mean there isn't a story to be told, but a lot of it is more up the air than most media out there right now. To my knowledge, certain events/incidents that appear to be a staple in many interpretations that I’ve seen (including my own!) only exist because of how the fanbase perceived the narration inside the songs. Which in of itself isn’t a bad thing at all— I’ve seen some really creative stuff from artists who connect to the album purely for how it describes the struggles of mental health and simply being in a bad place.

HOWEVER. There comes a point where I think it’s necessary that a line be drawn..! I’m mostly talking about the ridiculous amount of gore and torture I’ve seen in the depths here.

I have absolutely nothing against gore by itself. I’m a Resident Evil fan of all things. it does not bother me. However, there is one crucial thing to keep in mind when indulging in media of varying… maturity ratings. And that is that there is a TIME and a PLACE where such content should be the main focus in fanmade work. For example, there is a lot of fanart and writing surrounding the topic of absolutely horrific levels of torture here. Which is very disconcerting to me! Because there is nothing, and I mean NOTHING whatsoever in any of these songs that even imply the idea of, say, soul beating heart and mind with a long sock filled with quarters (pretend that example is some jigsaw level torture scenario or something because I ain’t typing allat). There’s already a lot of dark themes in the album. Why we stackin em now? Are we listening to the same album??

And I’m not talking about this just because I went “oh…that’s gore of my comfort character.” a couple dozen times now. I sincerely think that a lot of people sort of forgot that this album is a vent album. Made by a real guy. Venting about his own poor mental health. It’s great that people can connect to the characters in CCCC because they may feel the same way that they do, but I don’t think anyone would appreciate seeing the characters they constructed to express the nuance of mental health and coming to accept every part of themselves absolutely mauling each other like bloodlusted gorillas. It kinda takes away from the point of self acceptance at the end of the album if you ask me.

This does not mean every single part of the fandom is bad. not at all. There just happens to be a lot of bizarre shit here. however, just because you may not agree with these more violent interpretations does not mean you aren’t a part of the “fanon”. I think a lot of people try to vehemently deny that they fall under the fanon category (and denounce it altogether) because of the negativity surrounding the term fanon now. But truth be told, if you’ve made your own fan interpretation/au with a storyline based off of the songs, with creative liberties taken, you are part of the fanon group. This is not always a bad thing! In fact it’s better to embrace this so newer fans who are getting into CCCC and such don’t immediately think certain fanmade events/headcanons are real things that occur in the album. Because it eventually turns into a game of telephone for those who do not communicate that these aren’t canon, and then we’re back at square one.

I’m by no means the headcanon police. Do whatever the hell you want. Just be courteous and mindful about what you’re putting out there maybe.

Moral of the story, maybe listen to the album all the way through a couple more times. And please, do NOT trust genius lyric annotations, I am BEGGING you.

[my313]

who in txt is merman coded

[demodraws0606]

Me looking at Tumblr : Transfems and Transmascs at each other's throats and being vile to one another.

Me an AFAB nonbinary person who doesn't plan to transition who would be eradicated if I spoke my opinion :

[eldritch-nightmare]

here he is btw he's a wip but!! now u can judge me

[drifloonz]

steven/mocha is canon

[wafultheawful]

Thinkin about gender and spirituality

Preface: I don't have a real point to this. I just remembered you can basically post anything to tumblr.

My ex-mother in law said something to me the first time we met. "I've never understood queer relationships. You need the masculine and the feminine to balance eachother out... But I suppose that's why gays tend to have one masculine partner and one feminine partner."

This woman was a huge name in the druidic community of the UK. She is polyamorous. She told me that she remembered past lives and regularly saw the dead, animal and human. But she couldn't wrap her head around the idea of something outside of heteronormativity.

And she wasn't the only one in my life like that. I was basically raised a little heathen but I still grew up white in the US. Christian overtones policed my thinking and the thinking of those who influenced me. Most of my non-male partners have been feminine in their gender expression, and in turn I acted more and more masculine. I tried to fit a role based on expectations rather then what I (or even my partners) wanted.

Now I'm with someone I expect will be for life. They are 'masc' in that they are Butch. Not divorced from their womanhood even if they do not embrace that part of themselves the way someone who really enjoyed more 'typical' femininity would. Meanwhile I just bought two skirts for the first time since middleschool and I'm becoming even more comfortable with the term 'agender'.

I'm still a spiritual person, more now then when I knew and had access to people with connections in the 'neo pagan' movements. And yet every fucking time I see people talking about spirituality I still see people stumble over the ideas of the 'masculine' and the 'feminine' in nature.

My ex-MIL also said once that I should be careful not to anthropomorphize things. That my experience with a specific tree feeling safe when I was a child in need was probably just me projecting.

On this one thing, I actually agree with her. We project a lot of bullshit onto the natural world. And onto ourselves. Especially in the spiritual community. What is masculine about the sun? What is feminine about the moon? Nothing. They are objects in space with mass and gravity. Why would that make them any less magical? They still have a huge impact on our lives. The sun's impact is generally more overt. The moon's is more subtle. We can talk about these things in how they relate to us, I don't think that's unreasonable. You can't experience the world except from your own perceptions. The sun is hot and brings life but also can cause damage and death. The moon and night is cold but gives us the tides which effects us just as much but usually in ways we either live far from or don't directly think about/see.

The problem really comes in, I think, from how we don't just say 'the sun is masculine and the moon is feminine' it's how that inevitably leads us to imposing that duality onto people. People pose anthropomorphized ideas onto things that are not human and in turn try to use it as a mirror or a measuring stick to hold up against themselves or other humans. And not all cultures even believed these things or have lines drawn this strongly, I know. But I can only talk from the experience I've lived. The presence of strict ideals that specifically Christian-fascism (current and historic) have given us are so pervasive in people like me that they go completely unquestioned. Every book I read, including my ex-MIL's did nothing to question it, and in many cases actively reinforced it.

It's really no wonder that there is a fast and ugly pipeline of 'witch' to 'right-wing' if the people who position themselves as outside the mainstream culture are still just recreating it in the spaces they make.

[notwhatyoucameherefor]

Girl HELP me my homestuck ass got into yugioh dm and because I am the way I am I obviously keep looking at the characters with gamer demons possessing their bodies and going "lol that's kinda cherubcore." Except I accidentally ran with that too much and it's not a joke anymore I accidentally made like a whole stupid au where everyone's a homestuck alien. Yugioh but it's earth c ig. God save me.

[system-of-a-feather]

I was honestly thinking about it and I think my opinion on a lot of things boils down to "it is entirely fair to cut anyone out of your life who doesn't respect the version and expression of you that makes you the happiest" and I think that probably extends to almost all "expressions" only with the caveat that I don't see it as a moral mandate to respect every expression someone offers and I don't think its inherently wrong to not accept someones expression if it also requires you to reject an aspect of yourself in your happiest version.

Do I think either of these are always the most healthy rules to live by? No. But do I think its fair rules and expectations? Yeah.

You can't force someone to change essential parts of who they are (may the rejection be bigotted or based) in favor of your identity / expression but you also can't tell someone to not express / identify the way that makes them happy and expect them to still like you

In the end, not everyone is fit to get along with everyone and thats okay and fine so long as that is respected.

Like if it makes TERFs and shit happy to ID as TERFs and be TERFs, its within my realm of control to make them stop, nor can I blame them if they hate me - but they also can't be mad if I also hate them and block them cause its not their right to force me to accept them in my life

I absolutely do not have to agree or respect anyone, but I can't be surprised when someone whose expression I don't like and hate returns it back to me.

[fair-lead]

ok i think. im gonna read either. left hand of darkness or infinite jest next. or maaaaaybe fahrenheit 451

[fatespalm]

solemn vow to never be complacent or meek around things i feel strongly about again — to at least start the conversation even if i don’t have the words to talk back exactly to a poisonous idea — in kind, to pick up the thread if someone else does the same — tired of letting evil shit unfold —

[coraxaviary]

ok so like does anyone else have the rational fear that

someone's gonna come along and mention/post/recommend/rant about their fic on tiktok or some other social media? Mostly tiktok, but I suppose there are other possibilities.

Like, I don't want random people from tiktok coming to read my stuff. I certainly don't want to ever get the attention of anyone associated with the production of these shows -- especially the actors, God forbid.

Like, oh my gosh the prospect of "blowing up" for fanart is so appealing -- like, my eyes *light up* you know what I mean -- but the thought of someone mentioning my fanfic on any other website gives me a cold sweat and heart palpitations

[not-mary-sue]

Alright, to ao3's soon to be arriving Wattpad Refugees, a basic guide to general user culture:

1.) Unlike Wattpads vote system that let's you like each chapter, the ao3 equivalent kudos only allows one per work. Everyone is generally quietly annoyed about this. To engage with each chapter, you're heavily encouraged to comment. Trust me, it makes people's day.

2.) Ao3 has no algorithm. By default it's latest updated work first. You can find things to your taste through searches, filters and tags.

3.) 'No archive warnings apply' and 'user has chosen not to use archive warnings' mean two very different things. No archives warnings means the work is free from any content that could require a warning tag (character death, graphic depictions of violence, non-con, etc). User has chosen not to use archive warnings means it could contain any of the warning content, be it hasn't been explicitly tagged. Treat it like an allergen. No archive warnings apply is allergen free. User has chosen not to use archive warnings, may contain traces or whole chunks of the allergen. If you're likely to have a bad reaction, maybe don't take the risk.

4.) Speaking of warnings, ao3 has very few restrictions on the type of work that's allowed. Whatever your personal thoughts or feelings on that are, thats how the site is. You're likely to run across some dark subject matters and a lot of people are uncomfortable with reading that. You're well within your rights not like these works and have your opinion on whether they should be allowed, but harassing the authors of such works (or any works) is more likely to come back on you than them. Ao3 operates on a strong policy of 'don't like, don't read'. Use the tagging system to your full advantage to only engage with the kind of works you want to see.

We look forward to welcoming you all and seeing the fantastic works you create. Happy writing!

[metaforth]

So tired of hearing "Why can't we have higher standards?" Get thrown around in fandoms when people like unpopular franchise entries. Maybe you should try enjoying things.

We aren't auctioneers selling paintings, no one actually factors the quality of a work into their personal enjoyment. There is no point when playing a game or watching a movie where you go "Before I begin having fun, I should thoroughly analyze the quality of this work.

No. You enjoy something or you don't and the standards for your enjoyment, be honest, are mostly arbitrary. A thing either vibes with you or it doesn't. Standards be damned.

Stop trying to feel self important by policing other people's fun. Let someone enjoy Sonic 06 if they want to. It doesn't hurt you.

Nightcore sounds like someone strangling a dolphin to me but I never go actively seeking out Nightcore communities to go and tell them to listen to better music. Sure I get bitchy when Nightcore fans interact with me, but those are different kinds of flaws. I've got work I need to do on myself too. Not work that'll make me like Nightcore but work that'll make me less insufferable when people try and get me to listen to.

It's amazing how many hours get wasted on the Internet because people are so adamant about not letting people enjoy things.