#well did i cross the line now?

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 3

(Ep1+2 | Ep4)

I really wanted to drop this before Episode 4, but the thing is I really really really struggled with this episode. The first two episode were very clear to me, so clear even that I managed binge-write my first post within a single night after having spent the previous night rewatching the episodes and taking notes. I kept asking myself the question "Style does this and acts like this, but why?" and quickly found my answers. But looking at episode 3? I really struggled with the "but why".

But let's get into it anyway. Not that I finish this post only when the final episode drops lol.

~~~ Spoiler warning for episode 4 ~~~

To recap: when we last saw Fadel and Style together in episode 2 Fadel ambushed Style in the locker room and basically declared war on Style. Style launched counterattacks. They did not part on the best of terms.

Pronoun situation: In my first meta post I kept up with their pronoun use on a scene by scene basis. This time I won't do that, because they consistently use the rude guu/mueng pronouns for each other throughout the entire episode without any significant pronoun changes.

No. 1: RAWR

The very first sequence at the heavy metal bar is where my first problem already arises: I am undecided on whether Style went there on purpose to find Fadel or if he went there of his own accord to have fun and just happened to run into Fadel completely by chance. Because you could make arguments both FOR and AGAINST Style showing up specifically for Fadel.

AGAINST: Style does look kinda surprised when walks up to Fadel. When they're chatting by the counter Style says he's here all the time (which is something he doesn't say about the running track or the gym – two spots that we know he only went to for Fadel). We also don't get to see Style looking at the notebook like we do before he bugs Fadel at the running track for the first time or later in the episode when he shows up at the support group meeting. What's more, Style doesn't really attempt to stick to Fadel no matter what until Fadel either physically gets rid of him or just walks away. Instead Style leaves of his own accord to have fun with people who aren't Fadel and also seems perfectly content to do so.

FOR: When Kant looks through the notebook in ep2 after Bison hands it to him we can see that the bar is in there. So Style should know this bar is one of Fadel's go-to spots. Style could be feigning surprise when he walks up to Fadel to make it look like a chance meeting and he could also be lying about being there all the time.

Whether or not Style came to the bar in order to seek out Fadel specifically or not, when he walks up to Fadel and sits down next to him it's all in a friendly manner. His behavior has an air of Oh hey there person that I know, let me say hello! to it.

Style is once again trying to involve Fadel in an amiable conversation despite their confrontation last time they saw each other. Or maybe he's trying to involve Fadel in an amiable conversation because of the confrontation last time they saw each other. Style's friendly approach makes it clear that he's not holding any grudges about it. Fadel is not up for a friendly conversation, though. In the scene by the counter he says a total amount of two sentences to Style (or even just one, if you don't count the "no" as a single sentence). Style tries to get Fadel to socialize, to get Fadel to come out of his grumpy shell and go dance with him a little bit, to loosen up and scream a little bit. Fadel won't budge. So Style gives him his space and walks off, but not without inviting Fadel to follow him just in case Fadel miraculously changes his mind. After Style clinks bottles with his (new?) friends he looks back at Fadel and nods at him before getting busy with his friends.

I want to talk about that nod for a quick moment. Because as an introvert who tends to be quiet and shy in a crowd (especially a crowd of strangers or people I don't know well) I have my fair share of experience of being alone in a crowd. And I adore that Style is making contact with Fadel again, even though he already walked away and their conversation is actually over. As I've mentioned in some tags before, some of Style's core personality traits really remind me of a dear old friend of mine. We had a time in our late (ish) teens where we'd hang out at our youth leader's flat every day. My friend and my youth leader would often play Magic: The Gathering, which is something that's really not my thing and so I'd be "left out" that is I'd be chilling next to them doing my own thing or just watching them, not understanding shit. They'd be in the middle of a game and my friend would sometimes randomly look up and nod at me like that or he would pull faces at me or do some other random shit to communicate with me for a second before focusing back on the game. These small gestures were something I always really appreciated because they made me feel included, even though I had no interest in the game and couldn't really be part of it. The way Style nods at Fadel reminds me of that. He's making contact with Fadel across the room, involving him, including him. It's a nod kind of like Hey, I see you. And yeah, Fadel doesn't really want to be seen, except deep down maybe he does.

Which brings me to the choking scene. Style is having fun with his friends (or random people he just met??). He spots Fadel, excuses himself and walks over. Almost as if he saw Fadel standing there all on his own and decided to talk to him because "You're supposed to have fun with your friends at a place like this". As if he doesn't want Fadel be all alone. So he walks up to him and starts another conversation. We get another confirmation that Style isn't holding any grudges about their confrontation in the locker room, because he actively teases Fadel about it. I'm not even sure Style is purposefully being flirty here, I think he really is going more for a playful callback to the locker room confrontation, mixed with a challenge of "So? Are you gonna go rough on me again? I dare you to do it again!"

What's more, I think at this point his brain is set to I must hit on him, so I must drop flirty shit whenever possible. So when he says Fadel looks sexy, while there sure is some truth to it and he certainly finds Fadel sexy in general, I don't think he really 100% means it in that specific moment. It's almost more as if he's saying it out of habit, just for the sake of dropping flirty shit and compliments at any given opportunity.

All in all, that night at the bar Style isn't really being annoying or flirting with Fadel on purpose. He spends the night trying to make friends with Fadel again, trying to make amiable conversation, trying to involve him in friendly banter, trying to genuinely connect with him. As if to get Fadel to open up and come out of the shell that he has deeply buried himself in. And I think what this interaction also shows is that Style is starting to have positive feelings towards Fadel. It's the beginning of Style genuinely liking Fadel more than he dislikes him. Style is slowly starting to worry and to care about him.

No. 2: The Best Way to Burn Calories

Now for this scene we know for a fact Style is here for Fadel specifically. Once again, Style blurts out flirty shit and once again it doesn't sound entirely genuine as if he actually means what he says. Kant has sent him on a mission to hit on Fadel, but Style still hasn't quite figured out how to get through to him. Fadel continuously ignores or even blocks Style's attempts to make friends with him or to genuinely connect to him and the flirting also doesn't seem to be working. (Oh, Style. If only you knew just how well your genuine flirting at the gym worked on Fadel 🤭)

Style knows very well that Fadel is annoyed by him (Fadel even explicitly tells him that it's a bad morning if he sees Style). And I think at this point Style has decided that if he can't be a positive presence in Fadel's life he'll simply just be a negative presence then. Since that will still bring him closer to his goal than being no presence in Fadel's life at all would bring him. So he just shows up, bugs Fadel to remind him of Style's existence and also drops flirty shit at any given opportunity while he's at it regardless of whether he genuinely means what he says in that moment or not. And while I'm sure there is some truth behind Style's words, I think a lot of the flirting really is more of a routine now, a habit. Since that is what he was hired to do after all.

Side quest: Body and Heart

One thing this scene touches on is that Style definitely isn't in it just for sex alone but that he desires an emotional component as well: he explicitly says he wants Fadel's body AND his heart. As I said, I don't think Style really meant the flirting here, but I do think there is some truth to his words, namely his desire to not just have meaningless sex but to also be in love.

I think, unlike Kant, Style actually isn't too big on casual one-night stands. I think he enjoys flirting around, because Style is an attention hoe, but if I had to guess I would say most of the time he doesn't end up actually sleeping with anyone. Style is charming and I think he has a lot of fun with flirty banter. And he definitely loves the attention: in episode 1 he clearly enjoys it when the girls are admiring his waist that he proudly shows off at the bowling alley, in episode 2 he gives Fadel permission to look at his naked body, and then later in episode 3 he also looks very happy and satisfied after those girls call him "hot" when he's dropping of the car keys at the host club.

Style loves the attention, he enjoys the flirty banter, but I think sleeping around no strings attached isn't truly his kind of thing. We get another hint of this in episode 1 when Kant claims "[Y]ou’re in no position to call me out when you’ve been playing around just the same". Style replies "I don’t know what you’re talking about" in a disapproving tone and with a skeptical face.

In fact, in Thai he says:

อะไรของมึงว่ะ [àrai - kŏng - mueng - wâ] what - of - you - [rude particle]

I haven't checked this phrase back with a native speaker yet, but I've often heard it in the sense of Wtf is your problem? or Wtf is up with you? or Wtf are you talking about? To me, the English subs sound almost more like Style is deflecting Kant's statement while in Thai to me it feels like Style is actively disagreeing with Kant's words (feel free to correct me on this if I'm wrong @happypotato48 🙏).

Like, Style clearly doesn't approve of Kant's accusations and immediately goes attention seeking to highlight that that is what he's all about:

Going with the crop top shot specifically because I'm SURE some of you will really appreciate it lol

The literal translation of what he says here is actually more like "I'm just checking my rating":

กูก็แค่เช็คเรตติ้งกูเฉยๆว่ะวะ [guu - gôr kâe - chék - ret-dting - guu - chŏiie chŏiie - wâ wá] I - only - check - rating - I/my - just - [rude particle]

Style wants eyes on him, not hands, and he wants to be rated the hottest person in town by everyone who takes just one single look at him, thank you very much.

What's more, right before this exchange he also tells Kant to quit his one-night stands and get a real lover, so we know Style is very much team "having a boyfriend is a good thing". Style not being too big on meaningless one-night stands will also be reflected later in episode 3 when Style tells Fadel " What kind of man do you take me for? I might look like I play around, but I’m damn devoted to love. I want to date*" when he complains about Fadel ditching him right after their hook-up as well as in episode 4 when Style tells him "I'm not just anyone. I need clarity" when Fadel points out "Some people [have sex] countless times and never called it anything" after Style asks what their relationship is now that they've hooked up twice. We see it also in the way how enraged and genuinely hurt Style is in episode 4 after the stunt Fadel pulls in the kitchen. For Style, sex isn't just sex and I think as impulsive as he can be he still makes very deliberate decisions about who he actually sleeps with.

Kant may claim Style plays around just like Kant does, but the thing is that night at the bowling alley? It's Kant who finds himself someone to spend a fun night with while we see Style leaving the bowling alley all by himself without his own hook-up. You could even make arguments about how Style doesn't actually like doing the pursuing and much rather prefers to be pursued. But more on that later.

*(Actually, literally he doesn't say "I want to date" but "I want a faen" -> confirming once again Style is Team Steady Boyfriend)

No. 3: Sweet Meat

Just like in the scene at the sports field right beforehand, Style continues to be an annoying presence in Fadel's life, if he can't manage to be a positive presence. For this scene he even turns up his annoyingness level a little more than at the running track. What's very interesting here compared to the meat stall scene from episode 2 is that here in episode 3? Style doesn't give a shit that Fadel turns away and walks off without buying anything. In episode 2 he was very quick to yield in order to keep Fadel from running away, but this time Style doesn't care that Fadel just ditches him. When Fadel has gone, Style immediately hurries after him. He's already got his next move planned.

No. 4: Burger Burger Burger Burger

I think Style tries out a different strategy here: maybe if he helps Fadel, Fadel will finally soften up to him. What's also interesting is that every word out of Style's mouth suddenly sounds a lot more genuine now compared to what he was spouting at the running track or at the market earlier that day. And I think it's because he (thinks he) is helping Fadel.

Style likes to help. We see this in the way he agrees to help his best friend by hitting on some weirdo guy (yes, of course he's also getting a car out of this deal, but I think part of the reason why he agrees to the deal is also because he genuinely wants to help Kant find love), we see this in the way he immediately takes orders from customers no questions asked in episode 2 right before he meets Bison, and we'll see this even later this episode when he throws himself into the fight despite having no fighting skills whatsoever, just because he thinks three against one is unfair and wants to help.

And if we go back to the thought that maybe, just maybe, Style actually doesn't like to pursue others then it's no surprise that his words here suddenly sound a lot more genuine now that he (thinks he) is helping Fadel compared to his half-assed attempts at flirting earlier that day on the sports field and at the market. Helping people is Style's thing. He's back in his comfort zone which means now he can be much more sincere in his words and his actions again, because there is less of a need to pretend to be a type of person that he just simply is not.

Which also results in Style being much more playful again rather than annoying. For example, when he calls Fadel a "good-looking chef" and shoves him with his his gigantic burger bun. Or when he teases Fadel about being shy. Or when he asks Fadel "You hungry?" after they end up on the ground. This time I actually believe Style's words. Where the flirting at the running track and the teasing at the market felt more like a task where Style was mostly just saying words to get the job done, now that he's back in his comfort zone it sounds like he actually means everything he says again.

There is also some sort of sincerity to Style's desire to help. Fadel, however, does not want Style's help and tries to send him away. Style reminds him that Fadel should probably be making burgers instead of wasting time arguing with him and also points out that Fadel's own brother, who is supposed to be here helping him, is nowhere to be found and that he, Style, is in fact right here by Fadel's side helping him, supporting him. I think Style is being a little overly dramatic when he says "All I ask from you is a little decency" in order to get Fadel to soften up at least a little bit and to get him to accept Style's help, but I also think Style does genuinely desire at least some form of recognition for his support as well. But Fadel won't budge and once again just abandons him.

No. 5: This Is A... kitchen

Trouble arises at the diner and once again we see that Style likes being helpful, because he rushes into the kitchen, immediately ready to help serve the customers. And this time his desire to help is real. It might also stem a little from his desire to fix things, because it is his own fault that the restaurant is overrun and so part of him might want to make up for that, too. What matters, though, is that it's not just another attempt at getting close to Fadel like earlier when he was promoting the restaurant. Fadel blocks him once again, but Style insists. And I think he really hits the nail on the head with this:

I haven't yet looked at Fadel as closely as I have at Style (oh how I wish I had the time, though *cries in university student*) but I do think that this is ultimately something Fadel will be forced to learn over the course of the series.

Anyway, Fadel tries to send Style away again, but Style refuses to go and lists a number of arguments as to why he should in fact go serve tables instead of going home. He ends his arguments by telling Fadel to learn to accept help and then then determinedly tells him that he'll go wait the tables himself. Once those words are out of his mouth he looks at Fadel almost with a bit of a defiant expression on his face as if he's waiting for Fadel to object again.

But this time Fadel says "Fine, you can wait the tables" and Style nods and raises an eyebrow in surprise and happiness, like Wait?? I can?? For real?? You're actually letting me?? I don't have to fight you some more?? You're not throwing me out again??

When Style goes to change into the uniform right there in the kitchen, I don't think he's doing it to be flirty or anything like that at first. I think in the heat of the moment he genuinely forgot that changing rooms (or in this case, bathrooms) exist. I think he wanted to follow Fadel's order as quickly as possible so that he could start helping as quickly as possible. That is, until Fadel tells him off and sends him to the bathroom. Style responds by playfully teasing Fadel about being shy. Style is in an excellent mood now because it's one of those rare occasions where Fadel accepts Style's presence rather than trying to get rid of him. And while I do think Style changes in the kitchen anyway in order to tease Fadel, I don't think he's necessarily doing it to tease Fadel for sexy reasons but rather for playfully petty reasons. Because Fadel keeps scolding him and yelling at him and when Fadel tells him off for changing clothes in the kitchen, Style does it out of spite. Like Oh, you don't want me to change in the kitchen? Well, in this case i DEFINITELY have to change in the kitchen, then. I will say, though, that there is definitely a little bit of an Oh, you're NOT shy? Well, prove it, then! in there as well. But I don't think that this thought is Style's main focus here, because apart from this one look that Style throws Fadel right after he's pulled his shirt over his head...

...from what the camera shows us he seems more focused on the clothes and the action of changing them rather than on Fadel's reaction to him getting naked:

We, the audience, were shown Fadel's reactions to Style getting undressed and I think if Style had taken note of these reactions, the series would have made a point in showing us that Style notices Fadel's crisis. And our chatty cat here would have 100000% teased Fadel about it. What's more, Style has no idea just how much of an effect his naked body had on Fadel back at the sauna. Style has absolutely no idea that Fadel went and fantasized about him afterwards. So Style does not (yet) know that his naked body is one of the strongest weapons he currently has in the fight for Fadel. So Style does not (yet) realize that he could be using his body in a much more deliberate manner. And I don't think he realized it in this scene either, because as I said we would have been shown his discovery. So Style leaves the scene none the wiser, but eager to help and absolutely stoked that Fadel actually lets him for once.

No. 6: Death by Spatula?

Unexpectedly, Fadel drops lore of himself and I think that piques Style's interest because Fadel almost NEVER drops lore of himself. Pretty much all the things Style knows about Fadel are things he got from other people (like all the information in the notebook) or things he found out by himself (either because he's picked up on them in all their interactions so far or because he actively did some research like when he looked up Fadel's name). There are only two other instances where Fadel himself revealed something about himself to Style:

When Style finds him at the gym, Fadel drops that he doesn't like it when it's crowded and that this is why he likes going to the gym at night.

When Fadel tells Style that he runs a burger joint in the "sensitive nipples" scene and also mentions that he does everything by himself. Although this incident barely counts, because Fadel didn't really give this information voluntarily but was instead kind of forced to since Style had found the pin of his restaurant.

Usually, Fadel refuses to reveal anything about himself. But now Fadel is overwhelmed by the many customers and in his stress he lets slip that he doesn't need money and that he only runs the restaurant for fun. When Fadel then also claims not to be rich, Style immediately finds it sus. Lucky for him, though, he won't make the right guess until later in the episode and so he manages to escape being prematurely murdered with a spatula. But Style doesn't know that.

Instead, Style just got a lot more intrigued by Fadel. This is one of those incidents that make Style want to get to know Fadel out of his own curiosity and not because he wants to help his friend and is getting his dream car as a reward. Style is starting to take a genuine interest in Fadel as a person and his positive feelings towards Fadel grow.

No. 7: First Bites

When Fadel wordlessly hands Style the burger it's the first time that Fadel is actively reaching out to him. Reaching out to him in a friendly manner that is, not to ambush him in a dark locker room and start a fight. And Style is absolutely delighted that Fadel is finally taking a step towards him instead of walking away from him like he usually does. And Style being Style, he of course has to immediately make a big deal out of it: "Are you finally folding? Was it because of how hard working I am? You like me now, don’t you?"

Actually, I wanna take a little detour to the language side of things again. The English translation has a question tag only on the last sentence, but in Thai Style actually uses question words that give a sense of "right?" or "isn't that so?" at the end of every single one of these questions.

นี่มึงเปิดใจให้กูแล้วใช่ป่ะ [nêe - mueng - bpèrt - jai - hâi - guu - láew - châi bpà] [interjection] - you - open - heart, mind - to, for - I/me - already - right?

I actually really like the expression he uses in Thai: he says เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai] which consists of the words "(to) open" (เปิด) and "heart, mind" (ใจ). To me, that gives me the feeling of Style not just asking Did I manage to win you over? but more of a feeling of You are finally opening (your heart) up to me, right? You are finally letting me in? which I think is a much nicer image in regard to Fadel's character and Fadel and Style's relationship.

มึงเห็นความขยันความตั้งใจกูแล้วใช่ไหมล่ะ [mueng - hĕn - kwaam kà-yăn - kwaam dtâng jai - guu - láew - châi măi - lâ] you - see - diligence - intention, determination - I/my - already - right? - [particle]

I don't know if others feel the same way, but in the English translation the "hard working" part mostly makes me think of Style working hard with helping at the restaurant before this conversation. A more literal translation of what he says in Thai would be "You've seen my diligence and determination, haven't you?" and I'm sure he's actually more referring to his determination and relentless efforts in getting close to Fadel.

I just really like the way Style phrases all his questions here in Thai. Fadel has enclosed his heart deep within him in very thick and high walls and no one gets access to it. And Style's task isn't that he has to get Fadel to simply just fold to him, surrender to him, but what he actually needs to do is to search for a way to reach Fadel's heart. His options are either to tear down Fadel's walls by sheer force or to somehow get Fadel to trust him so much that Fadel will willingly unlock and open up the doors leading to the depths of his heart. And it's like Style is asking You're finally letting me in, right? You're finally recognizing my diligent efforts to reach you, right? You no longer hate me, right? You like me now, don't you?

And I don't think Style is necessarily flirting here and means to ask if Fadel likes him romantically. On the surface, yes, he is definitely also asking if the flirting (attempts) have worked and if Fadel is starting to fall for him. But I think a lot of this is also about how he has on multiple occasion now tried to form a genuine connection with Fadel. Just in this episode alone we can see it in the way he asks Fadel if he likes heavy metal at the heavy metal bar and then tries to get him to socialize, tries to include him. We can see it the entire time at the restaurant just now where he's voluntarily helping because he genuinely cares. There are even more instances in the first two episodes, which I talk about in my first meta post of this meta series. Style has tried to bond with Fadel multiple times now but Fadel has always blocked his attempts and I think a big part of Style also wants to know if Fadel is finally starting to have at least friendly feelings towards Style. That Style is finally going from being an annoying presence in Fadel's life to being a pleasant presence in his life.

But Fadel shoots him down. "Don't get your hopes up. This is your wage." (Fun fact: in Thai Fadel actually tells Style not to เวอร์ [wer], which is a slang word coming from the English word "over" and, if I remember my Thai friend's explanation from a month ago correctly, is used to indicate that what someone is doing/saying is "too much", so what Fadel says here could be taken as "don't exaggerate" or "don't be so overly dramatic" or "don't be so hyped")

Style immediately complains that the burger is too little of a wage, but also won't let Fadel take it away from him again, insisting on eating it anyway. It might not be much of a wage, but that burger is important to Style. When Fadel sends him home, Style dramatically laments being exploited and thrown away. I think this is yet another one of Style's attempt to get some friendly banter out of Fadel. But Fadel isn't having it. Fadel makes it clear that he wants Style gone asap and Style is annoyed that Fadel keeps making him leave. I think Style is genuinely enjoying hanging out with Fadel at the burger joint and also genuinely wants to stay. His positive feelings continue to develop.

Special shout-out also to the way Style loudly goes "Mmh! Mmmh!!" while chomping down on the burger to make sure Fadel knows exactly how much he's enjoying Fadel's food. Which isn't just food in this instance, no, the burger also stands for an unspoken thank you for helping me and symbolizes the first time Fadel has actively reached out to Style on his own and done a nice thing for him. Style is making sure Fadel won't miss just how much he appreciates this gesture.

No. 8: A Fly on the Wall

Oh, how desperately I wish we knew at which point of the conversation between the brothers Style came in exactly! This is going to drive me insane, because I have no idea just how much of the conversation Style overheard, which unfortunately is important information for the interpretation of his interactions with Fadel from this point on. Most of all I really NEED to know if Style happened to hear this specific line:

Fun fact: in Thai he doesn't actually say "you wanted to rely on" but he says (ที่)มึงจะไปอยู่ด้วย [(thêe) - mueng - jà - bpai - yòo - dûuay] which should translate to something like "(that) you were gonna be with" or "were gonna live with" (disclaimer: I didn't double-check this with a native speaker) which sounds much more like a serious relationship to me rather than when phrased as "dude you wanted to rely on". And we'll get the confirmation of an ex-boyfriend later in the episode.

Now the question is: DOES STYLE KNOW ABOUT THE EX-BOYFRIEND NOW?? DOES HE KNOW FADEL WAS IN LOVE BEFORE?? PLEASEEE I NEED TO KNOW 😭😭😭

In my quest to find an answer to these questions I did come across a strange background noise that comes right after this line, though. A background noise that could very well be interpreted as Style sliding open the door. So for the sake of my own sanity I'll go with Style only having heard this part of the conversation for sure:

F: Why did you bring this up? K: I just want you to tell your brother how pipe dreams always end. In this line of profession, no one waits for you.

This is yet another incident that gets Style genuinely curious about Fadel, about who he is exactly. Style will certainly be wondering about what that profession is from now on. And he will certainly be wondering about what that profession could be after he watches Fadel beat up three grown men like it's nothing. And he won't know that he will have hit jackpot with his guess.

No. 9: Private Show

Where the masturbation scene from episode 2 confirms that Fadel feels genuine physical/sexual attraction to Style, this scene confirms that the feeling is mutual on Style's side of things as well. Style, too, finds Fadel's body hot. What's more, he never stops looking at Fadel. And not just at his body, but throughout his fantasy, Style is always searching for Fadel's eyes. In fact, he rarely takes his own eyes off of Fadel's face, and when Style does direct his eyes somewhere else it's always only for a very short moment. I think this once again shows that Style desires an emotional connection next to a physical one as well. Sex isn't just sex to Style, he wants more with it.

It is said that eyes are the windows to the soul, so another reason for the intense eye contact could be that Style also wants to stare deep into Fadel's soul to get to know him better in a quest to find answers to who this mysterious person really is. Because by now Style is genuinely curious. He has genuinely started to care.

Remember how I mentioned that arguments could be made for Style actually liking being pursued more than doing the pursuing and that I would get into this later? Later is now.

At this point I want to plug @clemelntine's extremely interesting perspective on the two sexual fantasies that we've gotten so far and what that means for the storage room hook-up. I'm not gonna reiterate everything, but I do want to pick up on what she says about Style specifically:

No matter how much he annoys Fadel in the day to day and how much he seems to take the upperhand in those interactions, when it comes to sex he likes in the idea of letting Fadel do what he does/wants.

In Style's own fantasy, Style is sitting back, he's letting Fadel take the reins, do the work. This is also in line with @secriden's excellent meta on Style's true desire being to be pursued, which I also really encourage you to read. Again, I won't repeat the entire post, but she highlights how Style will downright create opportunities for Fadel to lay his hands on him and how "every single time Fadel even shows a HINT of wanting Style, he immediately falls pliant, like he can't wait to let Fadel take the reins" (quoted from @secriden). And we see this desire in the fantasy too. Style imagines Fadel being the active one while Style gets to sit there and enjoy. Our little attention hoe here likes it when people are actively after him.

I was struggling to really make sense of Style this episode. In the first two episodes, whenever Style was being annoying there would be some sort of trigger for it. I was confused especially in the beginning of this episode, because I didn't understand how and why Style would go from trying to genuinely bond with Fadel at the heavy metal bar to being annoying at the running track and at the market when nothing seemed to have triggered it. I could tell Style was being annoying on the sports field and at the market, but I really couldn't figure out the "but why?" of it all. But if we look at his behavior through the lens of "Style actually prefers being pursued over doing the pursuing", I think it makes more sense. Style prefers for others to put in the effort of pursuing and now that he's forced to do the pursuing himself he doesn't really know how to go about it, especially when the person he's trying to woo has walls high up to the sky and continuously shoots him down. Style shows up and drops flirty lines but he doesn't even really mean them because he doesn't actually want to do the pursuing. The inauthenticity in his insistent approach is what makes him annoying in those scenes. And it's also not what works on Fadel – it's when Style is being genuine that he actually reaches Fadel, like when he was helping him wait tables (which Fadel recognizes by rewarding him with a burger) or when Style was being playfully flirty in the sauna (which results in Fadel fantasizing about him at night).

No. 10: Mark Style Down As Scared AND Horny

We will later learn that Style doesn't believe Fadel about needing more money for the restaurant and was just acting stupid to gain Fadel's trust, but when I first sat down to take notes for my meta I wasn't sure if Style was being entirely accurate/truthful when he said this, since he witnessed Fadel taking on three grown men only after that whole conversation about the restaurant. So why would he feel a need to gain Fadel's trust before that? At first I thought that maybe Style did believe Fadel for a moment there, especially also because he presented Fadel with an excuse as to why he was working there right away and then also sounded a bit too sincere when he offered support to Fadel. However, on second thought I'm now thinking that maybe he really does distrust Fadel's claims from the start.

Outside the host club Style approaches Fadel and I don't think it's with the motivation to flirt with him but rather to find out why exactly Fadel would be here stripping for some ladies. It's a bit odd that he immediately offers Fadel an out of "You need the money for your restaurant, right?" when he's trying to get answers, but maybe this clumsy approach at digging for answer is already part of Style playing dumb on purpose to gain Fadel's trust. But why would he need to gain Fadel's trust when he hasn't even seen yet what Fadel is really capable of?

While it is true that up until the "why are you working as a stripper" conversation Style hasn't witnessed the real danger that Fadel poses, there've still been enough incidents to make him suspicious of Fadel. It already starts right during their first meeting when Fadel won't let Style get near his car. That's weird, Style finds it weird. Next thing Style knows is that Fadel also doesn't have any papers for said car which is very odd again. In episode 2 Style gets a little hint of Fadel's dangerous side when Fadel ambushes him in the locker room. In episode 3 he learns that Fadel opened the burger place just for fun rather than to earn money and that apparently Fadel isn't rich and yet somehow still has the resources and the time to run a whole restaurant for fun. Shortly after that he (likely) overhears something about a "profession" which clearly can't refer to the profession of being a burger joint owner. Style has enough reasons to be suspicious of Fadel, even before he witnesses Fadel's badass fighting skills. Style has reasons to gain Fadel's trust and to stay on his good side, especially since Style himself is hiding ulterior motives and can't risk Fadel getting suspicious of his own true intentions. So Style plays dumb, offers Fadel an out, and when Fadel takes that out Style raises his eyebrows and hesitates for a moment like Oh, okay. We're going with the lie, then, before he offers Fadel support.

The conversation gets interrupted by those three men looking for a fight and for the first time Style gets to see just how dangerous Fadel can get when he wants to. This is where Style truly realizes that something really is very, very OFF about Fadel. It's no longer a joke or a gut feeling, no, this is confirmation that something here is incredibly shady. And Style wants to get to the bottom of it.

No. 11: Hit by Apollo's Ball of Prophecy

There've been a few incidents that got Style curious about who Fadel really is behind his thick walls and his tough exterior, a few incidents that got Style curious about Fadel's lore. But watching Fadel take on three grown man without any major problems and having them run away in fear was the last straw. Style's motivations officially change. Getting Kant's car is less important now than finding out the truth about Fadel. Style definitely exaggerates a bit when he says that Fadel must be some kind of hitman, is being dramatic as usual. It won't be much longer until Style finds out that Apollo has actually hit him with the gift of prophecy.

No. 12: Rise Up

Style is determined to find out more about Fadel's life and promptly shows up at yet another location he knows Fadel will be at. I'm not sure Style was aware this meeting was gonna be about grief and loss before he arrived and saw the sign. At least from the notebook it's hard to tell because the drawing only shows a group of people sitting in a circle of chairs with the caption "rise up". That could really be about anything. For me personally, my first association (especially in combination with the words "rise up") would be a Christian bible study group, although I doubt that Style, having been raised in a predominantly Buddhist country, would necessarily have this specific association with that image and those words, too. Point still stands that nothing about this image strictly points to loss specifically. (Technically we could say that since there's no address in the notebook, Style might have googled "rise up" in order to figure out where to go and seen on the website that it was a meeting for grief and loss. However, as we didn't actually get to see Style do any research and find this information, I'm just gonna run on the assumption that he genuinely didn't know and that maybe he got the address via Bison or something. Or maybe he actively stalked and followed Fadel, idk.)

Style stops in front of the sign, double-checks that he's at the right place, and then nods in determination, kinda like alright, let's do this, then, before he enters.

Another reason why I don't think Style was aware what this group meeting was gonna be about before he arrived is the way he's kinda confused when the group leader asks him to tell his story. The group leader elaborates ("Something you’ve lost, or the changing point in your life.") and Style, who was looking at the group leader while listening to his explanation, turns his head to look at Fadel right after the group leader says the word จุดเปลี่ยน [jùt bplìian] (= changing point). He stares at Fadel as if he's wondering Did he lose something? Was there a changing point in his life?

Style can't dwell on it for too long, though, because he has just been asked a question and now needs to come up with a cover story.

And this is where Style really starts to get out of line. He dishes out a story about some dog, which I don't really want to get into right now since at the point of me writing this we're only 4 episodes into the series and who knows, something might as well happen later down the line that could recontextualize Style's story (looking at you, Boonterm mention! 👀), but I think it's safe to say that Style isn't too involved in his story emotionally. When he cries, the crying is cringe and it's NOT because Dunk is a bad actor (far from it!!) but rather it's because Style the character isn't taking himself seriously here. This is also highlighted in the smug look and nod he shoots Fadel in the middle of his crying performance:

His behavior is very disrespectful, but I don't think he's being disrespectful on purpose. I think this is another one of his idiot boy moments where he is just really fucking stupid. Style is impulsive and doesn't think things through a lot and I think in this scene he is also so absorbed in his goal of getting to the bottom of Fadel and his mysteries that his tunnel vision on his goal prevents him from realizing the effect his actions can have on those around him, the consequences his behavior could bring. We saw it before that Style sometimes doesn't see things as much of a big deal as they actually are when he doesn't think much of texting while driving (as elaborated in my ep1 meta). Besides, his behavior has worked out pretty well for him all episode, with the worst consequence being Fadel simply just walking away from him, and Style even got to celebrate small victories like when Fadel made him a burger. So why would Style be changing his behavior now? There is no reason for Style to act differently, and so he continues to bug Fadel as usual and it genuinely doesn't occur to him that his behavior could be disrespectful or out of line.

Maybe if Style had had more time to dwell on the thought of Is Fadel here because he's lost someone? he might have realized that the situation was a lot more serious than he had originally thought and that his words/actions were gonna be out of line and that he shouldn't have been doing this, but alas that is not what happened. He didn't have the time and so he immediately gets distracted fabricating an elaborate story to answer the group leader's question and doesn't spend a single one of his brain cells thinking about his behavior and its consequences. He will soon learn about the consequences, though, because Fadel is seriously pissed now.

No. 13: Giving You What You Want (But Is It?)

Fadel is pissed and goes to confront Style in the privacy of a random storage room. Style is obviously lying to Fadel through his teeth. I do think there's some truth to it when Style says "I have my own problems. You’re not the only one" but whatever problems in life Style currently has (especially if there's anything connected to loss and grief), these problem's really aren't at the forefront of his mind right now. We know for a fact that Style is lying when he explains that he found the support group via the internet, that meeting Fadel was a coincidence and Fadel doesn't buy it either. What we, the audience, also know but what Fadel doesn't necessarily guess is that Style is also lying about how he is hitting on Fadel because he likes him and because he wants him. "Nothing more than that" he says, but as the audience we know that this is also bullshit because we know he was specifically sent by Kant and that a car is waiting for Style when he succeeds. What we also know, though, is that Style is definitely physically/sexually attracted to Fadel, so when Fadel offers to hook up with him, who is Style to say no?

I think this nc scene surprised a lot of us because it didn't go the way most of us were expecting it to go. As has already been pointed out in various posts by various people, Style is surprisingly passive during the entire act (at least, that we get to see). They have next to no eye contact, Style doesn't initiate a single kiss and barely touches Fadel except to hold him and to run his hand through Fadel's hair. But why is that?

Many a thing has already been said about this scene and about the characters' motivations and I don't think there is one specific interpretation that is the One Truth. I think many truths exist in this scene at the same time and there are many factors as to why the characters were acting the way they were acting. Emotions are complicated and sometimes you can have many of them simultaneously.

An interpretation that I haven't seen floating around yet is that part of Style's passiveness could also stem from the fact that he was caught off-guard. I don't think he was expecting Fadel to go Alright fine, have me, then. In fact, I think when Style told Fadel "I like you" and "I want you" those were mainly empty words again. Because this time he didn't seek out one of Fadel's usual places in order to to hit on him, but because he wants to find out the truth about Fadel, wants to figure out the reason why Fadel is so shady. But then he ended up pissing Fadel off who then promptly started a fight with him and Style needed to cover up his own intentions when he threw those words into Fadel's face. Style says "I want you", but he doesn't actually mean it in that moment and his actions do not reflect the I want to bang you sentiment at all either. We've all seen the sauna scene, we know how Style behaves when he actually wants to get into Fadel's towel pants. And this isn't it. So when Fadel suddenly and uncharacteristically does let Style get into his pants gets into Style's pants, I think that throws Style off and he momentarily doesn't know how to respond to the situation.

Plus, as @nnnn99999 writes in her meta, there is also the emotional disconnect. At this point of the story, neither of them is in love with the other just yet. Yes, there is mutual physical attraction and yes, by now Style has taken an interest in Fadel beyond the car, has started to develop positive feelings for Fadel and has at times actively enjoyed interacting with Fadel, but they still have their own motives and intentions and emotionally they simply just aren't quite on the same page yet. Style desires both body and heart, but both of their hearts simply aren't properly in it just yet. I don't think Style minds hooking up, he's definitely consenting to it and also enjoying it, but it's just not quite what Style dreams of, not like this. In a way, yes, it actually is what Style has dreamed of because his fantasies of Fadel doing things to him rather than him doing things to Fadel are now becoming reality, as @clemelntine beautifully explained in her meta, but in the real situation there's one important detail missing from Style's fantasy: the intense eye contact. In addition to Fadel's body, Style also wants that emotional connection. We've seen this times and times again whenever Style has tried to make friends as well as to genuinely bond with Fadel, and this desire extends also to the sex.

And lastly I want to leave you with @braceletofteeth's excellent tags on this post, which is something that I think also factors into why Style goes from being proactive to being passive in the blink of an eye:

#Fadel said he would give himself to Style #and Style let him do that #he barely touched Fadel except to hold him and caress his hair #he reciprocated the kisses but did not initiate them #he didn't try to take any more of Fadel than what Fadel willingly gave him #[head in hands]

During the entire nc part I kind of get the sense like Style is waiting. Waiting to see with a certain curiosity what Fadel will be doing next, what Fadel wants to do next, ready to happily take up whatever Fadel offers. Style is letting Fadel control the situation completely and doesn't push him once.

No. 14: Kiss or Slap?

Once again we see that Style isn't too much of a fan of casual hook-ups. And while I do think part of his motivations for saying the things he says and for trying to stop Fadel from abandoning him again is because making Fadel his boyfriend specifically rather than just hooking up with him is his goal here after all, but I do think that Style isn't lying this time. He's just a bit too annoyed when he asks "What kind of man do you take me for?" for it to be an act. I think he is genuinely offended that Fadel would think of him this way. And I think he's genuinely a little upset and hurt that Fadel is perfectly happy to sleep with him and to ditch him immediately after. We get foreshadowing to Style being very much Team Anti Hit-and-Run in episode 1 when he tells Fadel "It ain’t like me to hit and run" in the context of an actual car crash and earlier this episode when he laments "Oh, the nature of man. He will exploit you and then throw you away". Style is very much not happy with this turn of events and it's not purely because he hasn't yet completed the mission Kant has sent him on. We also get another hint of Style looking for a connection in his hook-ups in the way Style is looking at Fadel when they're getting dressed while in contrast Fadel has turned his back to Style completely, avoiding eye contact and avoiding any interaction:

Another thing that I want to point out is that Fadel says "I gave you what you wanted" and "We agreed on it" when Style tries to stop him from leaving. However, they didn't exactly agree on anything? Fadel started kissing Style before they could even come up with any terms and conditions and the thing is when Style said he wanted Fadel, he never said he wanted Fadel only once. And he also never said he wanted Fadel to run away immediately afterwards.

So Style puts up a fight. He firmly stands between Fadel and the door, blocking Fadel's way. Fadel threatens to punch Style if he doesn't move but Style refuses to stand down even though he knows very well from personally witnessing it that Fadel is perfectly capable of punching him if he wished to. Despite that, Style is not scared of Fadel. I think Style takes Fadel's sudden willingness to sleep with him as a sign that Fadel has finally developed some sort of positive feelings towards Style after all, too. And Style is confident enough about it that he trusts that Fadel wouldn't hurt him. When Style says "You like me" I don't think he necessarily means it in the sense of you're in love with me or you're crushing on me. I think he's calling out Fadel's change of heart (that is negative feelings turning into positive feelings) and is making it very clear just how confident he is about Fadel not hurting him. I'm not scared of you. I've become a positive presence in your life now. You wouldn't dare to injure me. It's a counterattack to Fadel's threat. But Fadel's trauma runs deep. And so he punches Style because giving him a bit of a beating is still better than risking to face the consequences of what might happen if he lets anyone get behind those thick high walls. And he punches Style also a little bit to put him in line for his cockiness.

And also, I may be a Style apologist and a Style enabler, but after that shit Style pulled at the group meeting that punch was totally deserved.

Please don't expect me to write a proper conclusion bc my brain is absolutely fried now bye <3

[lorillee]

im really normal about them <- lie

[c4ss1dysbl0g]

FUCK YEAH CAROL CROSS DESIGN (I am SO sorry if the design is bad i have little to no experience on fashion </3)

[kashilascorner]

Oh ok. I get now why a lot of people didn't vibe with the ending.

All and all: excellent manga, overall very good final act, too rushed final 2-3 chapters but weak and honestly mediocre epilogue, which makes the high of the ending kind of leave a bitter taste. I think Noda had a good steed and suddenly he had to finish and had to rush all. So the ending in the sense of the final arc was good but the ending proper (final couple chapters) + epilogue......... Not so much

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[hauntingblue]

ENIES LOBBY TIME!!!

Sanji's face here.... he Knows he is going to fuck him up

THAT IS SANJI??? 😨

Holding them in my hands again....

Sanji struck a nerve there akdjaoajkq

Increible trio btw.... look at the evidence

............ me next please 🙏🏻

That is love right there I can see it

What if we all killed ourselves (except usopp is telling her the opposite ajahkdhsakjd)

I need sanji to go insane like this more often.... after the timeskip it doesn't happen as much and I love to see him suffering

This is so funny.... there is no denying to her face card

"It's not like she actually wants to die" well yes she does, but no because you know she doesn't really. It is in a quantum state right now

Luffy is such a menace akdhaksjkaak

TELL EM!!!! THAT'S MY GIRL!!!!

Look at franky worrying about robin.... do not fret luffy is coming and he will NOT lose!!!!!

This is zoro remarking how usopps fear of being left behind makes no sense.... this is so good.....

This is so endearing but it also breaks my heart....

Who is that sultry binch... (I don't recall this attack AT ALL and i'm sure we never see it again)

They botched his bbl.... 😔😔😔

Luffy's face here... he was convinced she wanted to go with them but was compelled to do otherwise but no.... he thought wrong and he can't fight to her.... I've just been staring at this page for minutes like damn.

Nevermind.... this is something your mother would say "you want to die??? Just wash the dishes and you can do whatever you want later"

"If you wanna die, or whatever...." this is so good like he knows what he is doing.... he Knows.... look at her face. After knowing how luffy and ace were as kids this just makes more sense (oda didn't think about this i'm sure but damn does it fit) also the slight manipulation.... look at all of us we're already here and look how we all miss you already... you know that post about luffy being selfish but his selfishness is jusg kindness to others... yesh

Thinking about robin's cinderella lifestyle.... why did her mother leave her with that aunt and why didn't some archeologist take her in?? Because she doesn't complain about anything just like she doesn't respond when that mother accused her of hitting her child without reason... that's so fucked

Alright this is funny (and also true)... I'm sorry fellow women....

*Justin Bieber voice* I like your laugh... dereishi shishishi

SHE'S GONNA ASK HER MOM TO TAKE HER TO THE SEA WITH HER??? LIKE SHE DOES AFTER WITH LUFFY??? MY GOD!!! I just bursted into tears like I got punched in the nose I can't keep going ajdhakajk

I lied i can keep going... but head in my hands over this....

Find out how my emotional stability survives this arc in ennies lobby part 2. coming soon

[its-stupidhours]

YOOOOO WE GOT COMMON TAGS YALL LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOO

[xumoonhao]

the backgrounds i made. btw

[birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo]

trying to politely enforce boundaries with ppl who don't respect u and take everything very personally is literally SO PAINFUL LIKE

I JUST DOn'T WANT U TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE THAT. IT IS A. PERSONAL PREFERENCE. NOT AN INDICTMENT OF U OR A CRITICISM OF UR PERSON. JUST PLEASE STOP

[unproduciblesmackdown]

bloodsong full of nothing but the musicians

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[sunni-stuff]

Part 1 This is part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

With the train ride now over, the sergeants ran, scouring the market for two familiar faces. Their footsteps in sync, crunching delicate mounds of white snow. Soap broke through the crowd first, then Gaz and Gary were right with him.

“Where the hell are they?” Gaz pants out, his breaths misting in the cold air.

“You said the marketplace,” Soap huffs.

“Yeah, I said the marketplace, but it's not like I know exactly where they went!” Gaz snaps back.

While the two sergeants bicker, Roach quietly breaks away, scanning the area until he spots the familiar figures they’d been hunting for. Price and Ghost stand outside a cigar shop, deep in conversation. The satisfied grin on Price's face tells Roach everything—he got what he was after.

“They’re over there!” Roach exclaims, snapping his partners out of their lovers' quarrel.

Gaz and Soap go silent, their eyes following Roach’s line of sight until they, too, spot their Lieutenant and Captain.

In a heartbeat, the three of them are sprinting toward their unsuspecting targets. Soap grins like a madman, practically buzzing with mischief, while Gaz shakes his head, both amused and slightly wary of what might unfold. Roach, meanwhile, is simply thrilled to be along for the ride.

They skid to a stop right in front of the two men, chests heaving as they catch their breath in the biting winter air.

“The hell is wrong with you lot?” Price’s voice cuts through, laced with a mix of annoyance and bemusement as he shifts his attention from Ghost to the winded sergeants.

Ghost, arms crossed, eyes them with quiet scrutiny. His winter coat does little to conceal his bulky frame, a silent reminder of his imposing presence as he stands beside Price.

Price and Ghost waited for an explanation, knowing well everytime those three got together, they were definitely up to no good.

Like how they put semi-permanent green dye in Ghost's shampoo for Halloween.

“We… we saw. A kid with your face,” Gaz manages, still catching his breath, pointing straight at Ghost.

Ghost raises a brow, baffled. A kid with his face? What the hell did that mean? Did they think he looked like a baby?

Soap huffs in mock disappointment, shooting a playful glare at Gaz. “Oi, I wanted to say it!”

Predictably, the two dive into another back-and-forth. Gaz isn’t one to shout, but Soap has a talent for riling anyone up.

Price lets their little show go on for only a moment before his stern voice cuts in, slicing through their bickering. “One of you properly explain, or you'll be walking back to base.”

Roach steps up, eager to clarify. “There’s a kid, probably about two, and she looks exactly like the Lt. Scowl, glare, and all!”

Price and Ghost pause, their expressions twisting as they both try—and fail—to imagine a little girl with Simon’s permanent scowl.

Price shudders, shaking the thought from his head. “That is not a face a kid should have.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Gaz chimes in, nodding emphatically.

Ghost throws him an offended look, his usually hardened eyes showing a glimmer of hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” they all exclaim in unison, even Price, who quickly averts his gaze as Ghost’s glare narrows on him.

Ghost huffs, then crosses his arms. “Did you take a picture?”

Soap snorts, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Aye, right, 'cause that wouldnae be creepy at all.”

Ghost stares daggers Into Soap, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the wall. “Okay, then where is she?”

The three stooges lead the charge once again, this time with their Captain and Lieutenant in tow. They weave through the crowd toward the train park, where Soap eagerly scans for the woman and kid he’d spotted earlier. But the line they were in is empty, the pair nowhere to be found.

“Shite. I think they’re gone,” Soap mutters, his Scottish accent thickening in his frustration, the words rolling out with a clipped bite. 

“So the imaginary woman and kid don’t actually exist,” Ghost deadpans, unimpressed.

“They exist!” Gaz insists, voice edging on exasperation.

“Sure,” Ghost replies, his tone flat and thoroughly unconvinced.

Roach snickers, then glances over at Price—only to see him staring slack-jawed through the window of a nearby café, his cigar dangling from his mouth, forgotten.

“Cap?” Roach says, touching the older man’s shoulder.

Price doesn’t look away, nodding toward the café. “Found them.”

Everyone turns toward the café, eyes landing on you and Adira. The little girl is happily weaving between your legs, her tiny hands gripping your coat as she entertains herself, all while you order hot chocolates to fend off the winter chill. A soft smile touches your lips as you watch her play, blissfully unaware of the audience gathering just outside.

The barista, with a warm smile, hands over two cups, one with a little extra marshmallows for Adira, her voice bright as she wishes you both a merry Christmas. You take the cups with a grateful nod, handing one to Adira. She immediately takes her drink, sipping eagerly, her small feet bouncing on her heels from the sugar rush.

“Yummy?” You ask, glancing down at her with a soft smile, a wave of motherly pride swelling in your chest as you watch her delight in the simple joy of her drink.

Adira nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up as she pulls away from her straw with a satisfied sigh. “Yummy.”

With a soft chuckle, you both leave the warmth of the shop, stepping out into the crisp air. Hand in hand, you walk back toward the park, the world around you feeling peaceful despite the cold. As you reach the crosswalk, you stop, waiting for the light to turn. Adira looks up at you, her little face filled with contentment as she swings your joined hands back and forth, her sugary energy still buzzing.

Across the way, the team stood frozen, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before them. Everyone but Ghost was struck by how much Adira looked like him—her features unmistakably mirroring his, save for the color of her hair and skin. The resemblance was uncanny, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped around them.

“She looks nothing like me,” Ghost stated plainly, his voice cutting through the stillness as though it were fact. His expression was unmoving, a wall of stubbornness in his eyes. He was ready to die on that hill.

Then, as fate would have it, a woman walking her dog passed by, and Adira’s cherub-like face hardened into a cold, calculating stare. It was subtle, but unmistakable. 

“Nevermind,” Ghost muttered, his earlier conviction faltering as he watched her shift before his eyes.

“So… you’ve been having fun these past years?” Roach asked, his gaze flicking between Adira and Ghost, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Not that I know of,” Ghost grunted, his eyes still locked on you and Adira, a mix of unease and something else flickering across his face. He couldn’t pull himself away.

“Let’s get closer,” Price commanded, already making his move. Soap and Roach exchanged a shrug, falling in line without hesitation.

“Excuse me?” Gaz sputtered, though his body had already begun moving before his brain could catch up, unable to defy the Captain’s order.

Ghost fell silent, teeth gritted. This wasn’t a situation he was used to, especially not one where he was forced to go in blind. He stood stiffly at the crosswalk, trying to hide his glances, his focus split between the team and you.

Soap ended up the closest, standing just next to Adira. The little girl paused, her big, doe-like eyes lifting from her drink to catch sight of him. The recognition was instant. Her lips pursed into a small line, and her gaze grew heavy with annoyance. 

“Ugee…” she whispered, scooting closer to you.

Soap froze, his mind stuttering for a moment. Did she just—? Did she call me ugly?

Gaz, standing behind him, couldn’t contain himself. A muffled laugh broke through as Soap turned to look at the others, wide-eyed and speechless, completely taken aback.

“Do ye lot think I'm ugly?” Soap asked, his voice thick with disbelief, clearly thrown off by the little girl's words.

“Not the time, Mctavish,” Price said, a tiny laugh tugging at the corner of his lips despite the situation.

The streetlight flickered green, signaling it was time to move. You adjusted yourself, ready to cross the street. Each member of the team started mentally preparing, unsure of how—or even if—they should approach you. Ghost, however, was the first to make a move, determined to intercept you. But Soap, ever the opportunist, beat him to it.

Ghost wasn’t exactly subtle, and having him try anything would probably send you running in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me, aren’t you the lady from the train?” Soap called out, his voice light, though his intentions were clear.

You paused at his interruption, recognition flickering in your eyes. You remembered the man who bumped into you earlier. “Yes? Is something the matter?”

“Do you happen to know where I could find Leslies?” Soap asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice, though he tried to mask it.

“The pub?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Soap confirmed, his face lighting up with a mix of relief and surprise at your easy response.

You look around for a moment, trying to remember and see the street names of your current location. “Uh…it should be about a couple blocks south from here. They have a big sign, you can't miss it.”

Thank God for Soap, because that one question was all he needed to keep you trapped in a conversation, his charm working its magic as you giggled and chatted away easily, the awkwardness of the situation melting away.

Meanwhile, Ghost’s attention shifted to Adira. He looked down at her, and she, almost instinctively, looked up at him. Their eyes locked in a silent staring contest, each of them studying the other. The intensity in their gaze was undeniable, both sets of eyes reflecting the same quiet, unwavering strength. It was like looking in a mirror—a mirror that mirrored back his own hardened stare and no-nonsense attitude.

Adira was, quite literally, his mini me. The resemblance was impossible to ignore.

“How old are you?” Ghost asked bluntly, his voice low as he kneeled down to Adira’s height, his gaze intense but trying to soften.

Adira paused for a moment, glancing up at you for help, but you were still caught up in conversation with Soap. She turned her focus back to Ghost, her small fingers fidgeting with the hem of her coat as she murmured shyly, “Two…”

She was two. Two. Ghost’s mind raced, trying to piece together the details, but nothing clicked. Nearly three years ago… what had he done three years ago? He kept everything categorized, stored in his mind like a well-organized file system, but this was something that didn’t fit.

Then, Soap’s voice broke through his thoughts. 

“You don’t seem like the type of lass to frequent Leslies.”

You giggled, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks at Soap’s question. He wasn’t wrong… at least, not entirely. “I’ve only been to Leslie’s once, and, well… it’s how I ended up with my little blessing.” You glanced down at Adira, the warmth of your smile radiating as you spoke.

Everything shattered in that moment. Ghost’s stomach twisted painfully, his heart skipping a beat as the realization slammed into him like a freight train. Leslie's. Almost three years ago, during that stupid holiday.

His mind began to piece it together, the hazy memories from that night slowly coming into focus. He remembered the bar, the laughter, the way you had caught his attention. You were easy on the eyes, easy to make laugh, and most importantly—unlike everyone else. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry, you just let him lead, let him slip into the night with no strings attached.

But now, as he looked at Adira, everything fell into place. The way she stared at him, those familiar eyes, the resemblance he couldn’t ignore. His breath hitched, and the weight of the truth crushed him—she was his daughter.

A knot formed in his throat as he tried to process the fact. Adira. His daughter. The little girl standing before him was his flesh and blood, the result of a moment he'd long since buried in the depths of his mind.

---

Taglist: @auradaniela98-blog-blog @cumsluut @unstqblecvrses @moraxnomora @serafina-nyx @sage-burrow @skylarmitchell @xx-wal1flower-xx @n-y-x04 @gluttonybiscuits @imahugenerdlol @wehrgabriel @blackhawkfanatic @tazuduck @soxocs @jingyuansspouse @cutiecusp @sleepyoriana @forgottensomewhere @puppylikethedog @spongelistener @caged-birdies-blog @bubblegirll26 @misscaller06 @fuckbananas03 @watu2ka @yukisdelusional @redroserabbit

[alex51324]

So, the NDA signed by producers of The Apprentice just expired, and one of them has published a tell-all article. Most of the article is about how they used standard reality-TV tricks to portray Trump as being wealthy and intelligent, when in reality he was, and is, a deeply indebted buffoon.

The money shot, however, comes when Trump and the producers are preparing for climax of the final episode, when the winner will be decided.

Per the FCC's rules for game shows, producers could not be involved in deciding who would be fired each week, or who would ultimately win: it had to be Trump's decision alone, like contestants and viewers were told it was. The producers could, and did, give him a presentation about the strengths and weaknesses of the contestants each time he had to make a decision. These were recorded, in case questions ever arose about whether the producers had crossed the line.

So, for the final episode, there were two contestants remaining. Both were men, one white, the other Black. They'd both done well in the final challenge of the competition. As the producers were summarizing the points for an against each candidate, this happened:

“Yeah,” he says to no one in particular, “but, I mean, would America buy a n— winning?” Kepcher’s pale skin goes bright red. I turn my gaze toward Trump. He continues to wince. He is serious, and he is adamant about not hiring Jackson.

In the finished program, Trump chose the white contestant as the winner.

(Four years later, Trump would propagate the baseless conspiracy theory that Barack Obama was not a native-born US citizen and therefore had not legitimately won the presidency.)

The article also describes how women working on the production faced discrimination based on whether or not Trump wanted to look at them while they did their jobs:

While leering at a female camera assistant or assessing the physical attributes of a female contestant for whoever is listening, he orders a female camera operator off an elevator on which she is about to film him. “She’s too heavy,” I hear him say. Another female camera operator, who happens to have blond hair and blue eyes, draws from Trump comparisons to his own Ivanka Trump. “There’s a beautiful woman behind that camera,” he says toward a line of 10 different operators set up in the foyer of Trump Tower one day. “That’s all I want to look at.”

And there's a third anecdote where he pressures a woman producer to break the FCC rules, while being casually misogynistic toward a contestant:

Trump corners a female producer and asks her whom he should fire. She demurs, saying something about how one of the contestants blamed another for their team losing. Trump then raises his hands, cupping them to his chest: “You mean the one with the …?” He doesn’t know the contestant’s name. Trump eventually fires her.

This information is pretty unlikely to persuade anyone who wasn't already persuaded by any of the other things Trump has done and said, which would for anyone else be a career-defining scandal. But it is a useful reminder of who we're dealing with.

(Link is to Slate, an x-number-of-free-articles-a-month site, but the incognito window trick works.)

[readwritealldayallnight]

When Gaz walks into the bases common room, his goal for making his third cup of tea of the day is diverted when he catches sight of Soap’s expression across the room.

The Scot looks absolutely befuddled, eyes wide and sitting slack-jawed across from his Lieutenant. Gaz walks over to the men, catching the very end of Ghost telling his companion to ‘piss off’.

“Alright?” He asks the lads, raising a brow in question.

“Ye oughta hear the shite LT’s tryin’ to convince me of over here!” Soap is all too eager to inform his friend. Ghost grunts, leaning further back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes as far back as he can, as if to tell the Sergeant in front of him ‘this is why I don’t tell you anything’.

Because that’s almost exactly what Ghost is thinking at that moment. He’d just entered the common room when he’d spotted the back of an all too familiar head, fiddling and distracted with the microwave.

When he’d walked up behind the younger man and echoed his call sign out in greeting, his mask hid the smug smirk that appeared at the jump Soap gave, uttering a loud “Shit!” in surprise.

Soap went on to complain about how he was apparently attempting to jumpstart his heart, drawling on about how the Lieutenant was always sneaking up on people like this, moving quiet as a Ghost.

“My missus says the same thing.” The masked man had mentioned casually, as if his chest hadn’t automatically puffed out in pride, standing up a little straighter at the mention of his girl.

“She says you’re too quiet? Aye, LT, think a lot o’ couples have complaints of the sorts in bed ya see-”

“Shut it, you prick.” Ghost quickly shut him down, ending that line of thought. “She says I walk too quietly in the flat. Accidentally scaring her all the time, poor thing.”

At that, Soap’s eyebrows had shot sky high, keen to hear more about the big bad Ghost’s life of apparent domestic bliss, turning him into an absolute sap.

Ghost wouldn’t normally volunteer information about his personal life. But he just loves you so much. And now that he’s not only thinking about you because he is all the time, but also talking about you, his mouth didn’t seem to want to stop talking about you.

“She put her foot down with me recently.” He’d added with a deep chuckle.

“She did what?” Soap had asked bewildered.

“She called it ‘putting her foot down’. I walked up behind her when she was doin’ dishes. Poor bird didn’t hear me and dropped somethin’.”

“Oh, no! Simon! That’s my favourite mug!!” You’d cried out, watching your most treasured ceramic shattering on the tile floor of the kitchen, spreading every which way across the room.

“M’sorry lovie. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He’d sheepishly responded, reaching to turn off the running faucet. He’d grabbed the dish towel and gave it to you to dry your hands, lifted you by the waist and set you on the counter with ease, not wanting you to get hurt with your bare feet. He’d turned, already in search of a broom and dust pan.

“Again. You mean I’m sorry for scaring you again.” You had corrected him, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore Simon. You don’t need to be stealthy at home, my love, you can make noise when you walk. In fact I need you to make noise when you walk at home!”

Simon had nodded along, diligently sweeping up every piece of your ruined mug.

“I’ll try harder sweetheart. I promise.” He’d offered, dumping the remnants into the bin before he’d walked up to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as yours slid around his shoulders.

The very next weekend he’d taken you to a local pottery painting class to make up for the lost mug, as well as you telling him off (because yeah, that was what Simon considered you putting your foot down with him, and he never wanted it to happen again if he could help it).

Ghost finds himself grinning further under his mask at the memory however, of how cute you looked as you tried to raise your voice at him, laying down the law in your shared home.

“And so what’d ya tell her?” Soap asked, curious to know how his Lieutenant had reacted, but more so if the man would even reply or rather would tell him to fuck off.

“I didn’t tell her anythin’.” Simon had uttered. “Did as my missus asked me to do, and that was the end of the story. Well, s’pose I did I tell her I’d look into mug making classes or whatever.”

“…”

“You what?!”

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[toyogamii]

“katsuki bakugo.”

you glare at him as soon as you enter the living room. he startles slightly and furrows his brows to match your scowl.

“the hell do you want? what are you comin’ in here screaming for?”

you pout at him and cross your arms.

“you know exactly what you did.”

he groans and stands up, dropping his phone on the couch as he goes over to you. you let out a huff and turn away from him causing him to roll his eyes. within seconds you’re being lifted off your feet.

“wha- hey! put me down you jerk!”

“not till ya tell me what’s got you all worked up, pretty.”

you can feel the grin on his lips as he nuzzles into your neck, placing kisses along your pulse line. katsuki knows he’s won when you sigh and go limp in his arms.

“you didn’t kiss me goodbye this morning… you hate me,” you conclude. he headbutts you softly.

“stop saying dumb shit,” he presses a gentle to kiss to your temple, “you know damn well how much i love you.”

you slide out of his arms and turn to face him, pout still on your face.

“well your lack of kisses this morning says otherwise.”

“i kissed you this morning as soon as we woke up,” he says with a smirk, arms coming to wrap around your waist and pulling you close.

“yeah that was my good morning kiss, i need my goodbye kiss too, dummy,” you state. he gives you an unimpressed look and you return it with a grin.

katsuki rolls his eyes again.

“you’re right, i shoulda known,” he says sarcastically, but there’s no real venom in his voice.

“mhm,” you agree, pecking his nose, “now you know for future reference. i need a good morning kiss, then a breakfast kiss, then a getting ready kiss… probably a few kisses in between them all too… and then right before you leave, i need my good bye kiss.”

he snorts.

“any kisses you’re forgettin’?”

“hmmm… probably my i’m sorry that i missed my good morning kiss kiss.”

he grins.

“that i can do.”