#I do really like the old one still but I think the new one looks a lot more slick and you can see my (minor) improvements!

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader | masterlist

New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[harrysfolklore]

charles leclerc answers the internet’s most searched questions

gif by @countingstars-17 <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi I'm Charles Leclerc and today I'm going to be answering the web's most searched questions about me."

Charles said to the camera, he was wearing his typical media day outfit, a Ferrari half zip up jacket and his baggy jeans, ones that no matter how hard his girlfriend tried to get rid off it was just impossible because he liked them too much.

"First question, what is Charles Leclerc's number?" he read on the iPad the Sky Sports team had given him to read the question, "I hope we are speaking about the driver number, because my girlfriend won't like that people are searching for my phone number on the internet and I'll be very worried if you can find it," the crew laughed at his comment, "But it's number 16."

"What is Charles Leclerc's favorite song?" he read the next question, "I think overall, it's Where is the Love by the Black Eyed Peas, but recently I've been loving Sabrina Carpenter's songs, and that's thanks to my girlfriend."

"Did Charles Leclerc retire?" he couldn't help but let out a laugh at the question, "Are people really asking this question? The answer is no, I'm not that old and I hope I don't look that old. I've still got many years in me I hope."

"Did Charles Leclerc win in Monaco?" a small smile played on his face, "The answer changed just a few weeks ago but yes I did. It was a really special moment, my mum cried, my brothers cried, my girlfriend cried. It was beautiful."

"Did Charles Leclerc adopt Oscar Piastri?," he couldn't help but laugh again, "That answer also changed a few weeks ago and yes I did. He's one of my sons now."

"Does Charles Leclerc speak Italian? Yes I do."

"Does Charles Leclerc have a sister? No I don't."

"Does Charles Leclerc have a girlfriend?" he could feel his cheeks blushing as he read, "Yes I do. And as you can tell, I talk a lot about her, so much that there are compilation videos of me just talking about her, I've seen them."

"Will Charles Leclerc win a championship?" he made a thinking face, "I'm curious to know what Google says about that one, but I'll say yes. At least if I work day and night for that, so I hope it will happen one day."

"Is Charles Leclerc good at cooking?" Charles chuckled. "Well, I like to think I'm decent. I can make a mean pasta and I really enjoy it, but my girlfriend is the real chef in our relationship. She loves baking, and her cookies are the best."

"Can Charles Leclerc play the piano? Well I'm not a pianist but I have enough skill to really enjoy it. So yeah, I can play the piano.

"Does Charles Leclerc have any pets?" he smiled warmly, "Yes, my girlfriend and I have a dog named Leo. He's a an absolute sweetheart. He even comes to some of the race weekends with us."

"What is Charles Leclerc's favorite date night activity?" he chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "Did my girlfriend search that?" the crew laughed, and Charles continued, "If she did, she knows I love our cozy movie nights at home, eating whatever we want and just chilling on the couch."

"Alright, last one," he said, looking back at the iPad, "What does Charles Leclerc do in his free time?" he read, "When I'm not racing or training, I enjoy spending time with my family, friends and my girlfriend of course. I love going to the beach, traveling or just relaxing at home."

He set the iPad down and looked directly into the camera. "Thank you for all the questions! I hope you learned something new about me. Until next time, ciao!"

did i reference my own fic here? anyway i hope you like thisss

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny/Tim , Cyan, The whir of a computer fan @hobiisthesunfiteme

Tim took another large sip of his coffee as he watched the person a few seats over from him pull out his laptop. The same person had been sitting in basically the same seat for the whole class, as had Tim. This wouldn’t mater much, except for the fact that Tim still couldn’t figure out what was going on with the guy’s computer.

The thing was a monstrosity and obviously about five home brews on top of each other. The case was chunky and dated, to the point that Tim was sure the screen had to have been replaced at least once to even be functioning. The keys were mechanical— a rare thing to find on the keyboards of modern, sleek laptop. And the fan in that thing sounded like a distant jet trying to take off.

Tim really wouldn’t be surprised if that thing burst into fire one lecture or exploded.

Maybe he should be more concerned by that than he was, but this was a nine o’clock class and Tim couldn’t work up the worry to care about mortal perils before 10 at the earliest and at least three coffees.

That left Tim mostly curious and a little amused.

“Come on baby, please wake up,” the guy crooned to the laptop, stroking the casing gently.

Tim couldn’t help but snort at that.

The guy’s head whipped around to Tim and he blinked, wide eyed, as his face slowly colored. “I, um, the old girl is just temperamental. She needs encouragement sometimes. Wow I sound really weird right now, I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, but I get it. I work with technology a lot too. Sometimes you just need to talk sweet to them.”

“Exactly!”

“But I have to ask, what even is she?” Tim asked, motioning with his coffee.

“You can’t just ask a lady that,” the guy said with an over dramatic gasp.

Tim rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at his lips. “I do not believe that she was made with a microphone.”

“Okay, you’re right but you don’t have to say it. She’s sensitive.”

“All of her or just parts?”

That got a laugh out of the guy. “Okay, okay, so maybe she’s more of a Frankenstein these days, but I need her to last. I don’t have the money for anything new.”

“Wayne Foundation,” Tim replied automatically.

The guy’s brows scrunched together. “What? I mean, I know Wayne, but what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were a native. The Wayne Foundation has a fund for students going to college, it helps cover supplies like books and, these days, laptops or tablets. You should apply for it and see if it can help. It’s worth a shot at least.”

“Oh, thanks. I sorta though that stuff was mostly for… like families and things,” he explained. “I’ll give it a look and see what information they need.”

“Might as well, right?” Tim said.

“Right. Oh, I’m Danny, by the by.”

“Tim.”

The guy— Danny, smiled. For some reason it felt almost blinding. “Tim. Nice to meet you, Tim.”

(Feel free to continue if you want~)

[genericpuff]

i find it funny that one of rachel’s drawings of herself in the afterword that just went up is just fully persephone. is that something she does a lot?

Alright so I've been making it a general rule for myself to like, not harp on Rachel in any way outside of LO as much because frankly the horse is dead now and there's not much left to say outside of what can be analyzed in hindsight. I think despite everything I have to say about her and her work, she still deserves to get away from this nonsense and I don't wanna spend eternity hovering over her shoulder.

But the afterword was posted within the LO series and is clearly meant for readers of LO in the functioning of being an afterword so let's just call it fair game LOL

I will say, on the whole, it does feel very honest and sentimental and I can respect Rachel for taking the time to write out and illustrate her afterword in a way that was personal to both her and her fans. I can understand why she went at it from the angle that she did and I'm not gonna fault her for that.

But there's also something that feels deeply... disingenuous about her approach right from the starting gun. I will say, before I continue, that I'm well aware I am biased towards Rachel as a creator, and I fully acknowledge that I could very well be reading too much into things. This is just my opinion, take it with mountains of salt.

I can get looking back on your own childhood, your past self, whatever, and going "see! it all got better!" because sure! For a lot of creators like Rachel, it must be wild to look back on where they came from and there's a lot of sentimentality on expressing that through an afterword like this where she reflects on where she came from. Though she STILL didn't acknowledge her other comics outside of LO, I can understand if she wants to leave those skeletons in the closet.

But I feel like her drawing herself as a child who's being given an Eisner by her adult self and all that just feels like some gross attempt to disarm any criticism of her because "don't make fun of me, I'm just a sad lonely baby girl!"

She's not a child. Child Rachel didn't grossly misappropriate Greek myth into their own self-indulged vanity project. Child Rachel didn't claim herself a folklorist of a culture's works only to bastardize them completely. Child Rachel didn't create a hostile environment within her fanbase by bullying anyone who she perceived as a threat, sneaking into critical spaces to try and cause trouble, and writing her own clapbacks into her comic. Child Rachel didn't claim to be challenging misogyny and purity culture only to reinforce misogyny and purity culture through her own self-insert baby-virgin-gets-rescued-by-rich-tycoon power fantasy that regularly glorified abuse towards women and the lower class.

30-almost-40-year-old Rachel did though.

At best it comes across as really cringe sentimentality from a Greek-weeb (heh, greeboo) and goes to show how much Rachel inserted herself into Greek myth without ever absorbing its messages or cultural contexts, it was all about her and her feelings as a sad New Zealand girl with dyslexia who thought Persephone's story was about another sad girl being rescued from her "horrible childhood".

At worst it's an active attempt to play on people's heartstrings by drawing herself as a child who people will naturally not want to criticize. I don't want to assume she's doing it intentionally, I really don't want to leave her afterword on a bad foot, as I can definitely understand as both a creator and a person who struggled with learning disabilities in their own childhood how and why she wants to pay homage to her past and where she came from... but let's just say, as someone who's also gotten way too "lost in the sauce" concerning personal self-reflective projects, I think there's a lot to say about how this confirms that Rachel made LO entirely for herself, about herself, without any actual intention to respect the original myths, because she never truly separated them from herself when she was a child. And, in my humble opinion as someone who has Been There with the self-insert OC's and self-reflective angsty plotlines, I can fully attest to the fact that that's not fucking healthy. Even with personal projects, you NEED to learn to get your head out of the sauce, you NEED to learn to objectively separate yourself from the narrative so the story doesn't fall apart under your own hubris and ego, you NEED to learn to draw a line if you want to have any sort of identity as a human being outside of what you make for people. And that's with just normal original stories, this was a story based on Greek myth which doesn't belong to her.

And this goes for a lot of the things she's said and done in the past, so much of her own "sources" even are tethered to things that she read / watched in her childhood and only vaguely remembers, as if she never mentally left her childhood at all, which just... if the point was to highlight her past and the traumas she went through and how they contributed to her present, an Eisner isn't going to validate those experiences. And drawing attention to her past through the lens of her childhood self absolutely 100% does not absolve her of the negative effect her work has had on the modern Greek myth zeitgeist nor the things she's said and done as a 38 year old woman who should absolutely know better.

The community she entered and took from will forever remain changed by her influence and taking, in many ways not for the better. She has the privilege of walking away and never having to think about it again, with all the awards and accolades that were bought for her, the bravado that she built around being a "folklorist" with zero credentials, and the platform she was given over many other creators struggling to even be heard.

That "place" she claims to have now was built entirely on inserting herself into another culture's works and doing nothing but taking, taking, taking, while offering nothing in return but vanity and lip service. That "place" was paid for and brought to you by Webtoons.

[sceletaflores]

you need a seat? i’ll volunteer!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: how much of a selfish douche does patrick have to be to not beg tashi to sit on his face every night? you certainly would.

—or: you show tashi what she’s missing out on

word count: 3.7k+

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving) but not really, cheating (i can't stop lmao), patrick catching strays, a hint of "there's only one bed" trope, kinda sad angsty wlw pining, like this got a little depressing at the end lmao, more plot than i thought it would have when I started writing it (i physically can't not write so much plot it's a disease), no use of y/n.

author's note: AHHH HAPPY PRIDE!!! this is purely self indulgent lmao no one asked for this but i just had to write it. this is my first ever wlw fic!!! I know, please stop clapping, it was my duty to post one during pride month. i'm still writing the homoerotic wlw friendship fic, i promise it's coming! i just wrote this one way faster than i thought i would lol it's criminal how few tashi only x readers there are...i'm vowing to fix it. okay hope you love it! mwah xoxo

You and Tashi sit across from each other on the bed of some fancy hotel room in Texas the night before a match against UT with a new, exciting charge in the air between you.

Actually, the two of you sit on the only bed in the room after a mix up with the hotel’s booking but “You girls are close, you don’t mind sharing? Right?”

Your coach was right, you don’t mind sharing at all. Not one bit.

You and Tashi were more than close. The two of you have been best friends since middle school, and playing tennis with each other just as long. Whether it was playing side by side or with one of you standing on the opposite end of the court. It was you and her, always.

You realized you were in love with Tashi Duncan when you were 15 years old. You were staying the night at her house, laying on her bed with your legs tangled together under the covers watching Mean Girls as Tashi idly braided your hair. It was during the Halloween party scene where Cady catches Regina and Aaron kissing when Tashi spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “Have you ever kissed a boy like that?”

You just shook your head silently, leaning further into her hands as Cady stormed out of the party on-screen. You didn’t know why she was asking you, you told her everything. If a boy kissed you like that she’d be the first to know. Tashi was silent for a few more seconds, tying off the end of your braid and resting her hands on your shoulders. 

“I could show you how,” she had said, “You know, for when guys want to kiss you like that.”

You immediately felt your heart start to race, palms suddenly sweaty. Her suggestion caught you off guard, but you think you heard that girls actually do stuff like that. It’s just practice, it’s not like it’s a big deal. Plus Tashi’s your best friend, you trust her.

You turned up to face her, searching her eyes for any hint of a joke, but you found nothing. Her face was earnest, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked down at you, and her eyes filled with a mix of mischief and something deeper. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Tashi smiled, moving closer until your faces were inches apart. You closed your eyes as your breath mingled with hers, her hand settling softly on your jaw. The first touch of her lips was soft and sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You gave in, parting your lips to let her tongue brush against yours. You felt something deep inside of you slot into place, like a missing puzzle piece finding its home. You got lost in the moment, mind going blank and fuzzy as your tongues explored each other's mouths. The thought of kissing boys suddenly felt unimportant and distant with Tashi’s lips moving against yours. 

All too soon she was pulling back, her face soft and flushed. “See? Not so scary,” she said with a smile, you swore you could hear a slight tremor in her voice. She brushed her thumb across your cheek once before she laid back against the headboard and cast her gaze to the movie still playing.

“Yeah…” you trailed off, leaning against her to watch Regina get hit by the bus. Your mind was still buzzing, the feel and taste of Tashi lingering on your lips.

That kiss changed everything for you, but the two of you never talked about it again. Tashi woke up the next morning as if nothing had changed, smiling at you over breakfast talking a thousand miles a minute about the new tennis club in town. It’s been years since then, years of pretending like you’re not really in love with Tashi Duncan, that it was just a phase. You just adore her so much, a totally normal platonic best friend kind of adoration, that’s all.

It’s well past the time you and Tashi should have been asleep by now, pre-match jitters and excitement keeping the two of you up late. You’d been talking for hours already, and somehow the topic has shifted into raunchier territory. Maybe later you’ll blame the pent-up energy for blurring your filter, but for now you were content swapping recaps of the latest hookups you’ve shared with Art for her stories with Patrick. 

The addition of Art and Patrick was definitely a new development in your relationship with Tashi. Two boys who thought they were being discreet following the two of you around the Adidas party all those months ago, taking turns chatting you up on the beach and inviting you back to their hotel room.

Then college started, and Patrick and Tashi were suddenly dating, and things sort of changed. Tashi was spending more time with him, leaving you alone to stew in your anger of feeling like the next best thing. Well not completely alone, Art was always there. In a similar situation as you, with Tashi taking up all of Patricks time when he’d visit campus. Leaving the two of you to sit in Art’s dorm sharing a handle of cheap vodka and stewing in anger each time you got kicked out of your room so Tashi and Patrick could have some “alone time”.

Art’s hot, and he seemed to like you so it felt easy enough for the two of you to pair off like Tashi and Patrick did. You wouldn’t call it dating, friends with benefits fit better, but he was a nice distraction from the new Tashi shaped hole in your life, so you indulged. Tashi was overjoyed when she found out, so happy for you in every sense of the word. Constantly badgering you for details, like she was just before your conversation took a complete one-eighty.

“No way Patrick hasn’t asked you to do that before,” you ask a little too loudly, beyond shocked as you stare at Tashi sitting across from you on the mattress. 

She scoffs quietly, shaking her head as she picks at a loose thread sticking out of the comforter. “It’s kinda been all about him lately,” she trails off with a shrug, like that’s a good reason.

Fucking Patrick. You think bitterly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. What a fucking loser.

You knew he wasn’t good enough for Tashi the second you met him. All flashy bravado and superficial charm, like a peacock strutting around with no substance. Tashi seems to like him enough so you bite your tongue at every dreadful detail she’s told you about their relationship, because you’re such a good friend.

Seriously though, how much of a selfish douchebag does Patrick have to be not to beg Tashi to sit on his face every night? 

You certainly would.

“Art and you do that a lot?” she asks nonchalantly, but her eyes have a certain look to them. One you can’t quite place, they’re sharper than they were before. Maybe even a tiny bit challenging, as if she’s daring you to go there. You were never one to back down from a dare, especially in front of Tashi.

You nod slowly, fingers toying with the edge of your shorts.  “A couple times.”

“How’s it feel.” She makes it sound like a question, you know her well enough to recognize that it’s more like a thinly veiled demand. Her voice is barely above a whisper but she may as well have shouted at the top of her lungs with the way it cuts through the space between you so sharply.

You see flashes of Art red-faced and needy as you knelt on top of him with your knees on either side of his head, of him spilling inside his boxers as you rode his face, using his tongue to get yourself off.

It has warmth pooling in the bottom of your stomach, thighs subconsciously clenching together. You imagine yourself in Art’s place, laying flat on your back as Tashi kneels above you, chasing after the taste of her with your tongue. 

“So good…” You whisper back, voice breathy like you just got done training. You can feel Tashi’s eyes on you, intense and persistent.

You meet her gaze, her familiar brown eyes dark and blown out in a way you’ve never seen before. She looks flushed, her cheeks tinged with the slightest hint of red. Her lips part ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of teeth as she bites down on her full lower lip, a tiny gesture that sends a zing up your spine. It's like the room's temperature just shot up by ten degrees, creating a kind of heat that makes you feel light-headed.

Tashi’s stare is unwavering, it makes your skin crawl in the best way possible. She looks hungry, you feel a pang of unfiltered need shake your body like thunder. You’ve never felt deja vu before, but you’re guessing it feels something like this.

The offer slips past your lips before you can think of stopping it, “I mean…I could– I could like show you. If you want.”

For a second, there’s silence. All you can hear is the sounds of the city three floors below you flowing in through the window. The distant hum of traffic and faint chatter blend into a muted sound that underscores the tense quiet in your room. You hold your breath, forcing yourself to meet Tashi’s gaze. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, you’re inches away pretending it was a joke, from running away with your tail between your legs.

Then, Tashi’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curling into a sly smile. She leans closer, bridging the small gap between the two of you, the mattress shifts under her weight. “Show me,” she murmurs, her voice an assertive whisper. The intensity in her eyes deepens, locking you in place. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears louder than the city noise outside. It wasn’t really a joke when you offered, but you never thought Tashi would actually call your bluff. You thought she’d just laugh, roll her eyes and call you gross with a smile on her face. You swallow hard, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach.

Tashi’s hand moves to your chin, gently bringing you closer to her. The electricity between you is palpable, a charged connection that sparks and crackles. Her thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you feel yourself leaning into her touch, your body responding before your mind can catch up. 

“Show me,” she repeats, her voice firmer now, a command wrapped in velvet. Her words hang in the air, thick with anticipation and promise. You nod, a small, almost unnoticeable movement.

“We- Art and I - we…uh, usually kiss before,” you try to sound casual. Tashi’s eyes soften, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Then kiss me,” she says. You can feel her breath on your skin, warm and inviting. You lift your hand, reaching out slowly. Your fingers brush against the bare skin of her arm, you’ve touched her millions of times before, but this one is different. It’s a hesitant touch that feels both daring and delicate. She doesn't tense or pull away; instead, she leans into your touch, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your throat feels dry, your mind racing, but you push through, your hand glides up her arm, tracing a path to her shoulder. Her skin is smooth, warm under your touch, and you can feel the slight tremor that betrays the relaxed front she’s putting on.

With every inch you cover, you feel more confident, your movements becoming more assured. You lean in, close enough that you can see the slight rise and fall of her chest, hear the faint hitch in her breath. 

It’s been years, but you swear her lips feel the same. It’s far from the slow, sweet, timid kiss you shared on her bed. The moment they touch yours, it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your veins, reigniting a fire deep within you that never truly died. Tashi’s lips are soft, yet demanding, moving with a hunger that mirrors your own. You can taste the faint hint of her coconut lip balm and something that’s uniquely Tashi, a flavor you had almost forgotten but that comes rushing back with each second that passes. You lose yourself in the rhythm, the pressure, the way her tongue teases yours, exploring, claiming.

If you weren’t so fucking turned on, so fucking wet that you’re drenching your panties, you’d probably laugh. You’d laugh at how easily you ended up back here, kissing Tashi just because she asked you too. You wonder if she’s thinking about that night too, if she ever thinks about it.

Your hands find her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more needy. Without thinking, you drag Tashi onto your lap, her chest pressing flush against yours as her knees fall on either side of your torso. She responds quickly, her fingers tangling in your hair, grip tight enough to have you softly moaning into the kiss. 

It’s messy, wet, and consuming, with spit mingling as your mouths fight for dominance. Tashi still refusing to let go of the upper-hand even though you’re technically supposed to be the one showing her something, but you don’t mind. She bites your lower lip, hard enough to make you groan, sending a shock-wave of heat straight to your core. Her nails scratch against your scalp, pulling you impossibly closer. The air is thick with the sounds of your ragged breathing and the soft, breathy moans escaping your throats. 

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, a small thread of saliva connects your lips before it falls and breaks.

“Show me,” she whispers again, this time softer, almost a plea. And with a newfound confidence, you nod, ready to give her whatever she asks for. 

“Off,” you say impatiently, tugging at the waistband of her shorts. Tashi’s eyes darken, her breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps as she quickly complies, shimmying out of her shorts and tossing them aside. You waste no time, falling on your back so fast your body bounces on the mattress. You can hear the bed creaking as Tashi crawls towards you again, you can feel the warmth of her as she throws a leg over your hips and starts to make her way up your body. She pauses at your chest, hesitating. She looks down at you, her eyes more unsure and vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. You just smile softly, giving her a small nod and bringing your hands up to squeeze her thighs reassuringly. Her body is warm and firm beneath your palms. 

“Tash,” you whisper, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her skin. “It’s just me.” 

Her eyes search yours for a second longer, the tension melts from her face, and she smiles. A real smile, not the fake one she gives pushy interviewers, one that reaches her eyes. Her vulnerability bleeds into tender determination as she gives you one sharp nod of her head and shuffles the rest of the way up your body.

With a sense of urgency, your fingers hook around the edge of her panties. Tashi’s trembling, her fingers digging into your shoulders, hips lifting slightly to aid you slide her panties to the side.

Being face to face with Tashi Duncan’s cunt feels euphoric. It feels right, like this is where you should have been all along. She’s so wet for you and so beautiful and so perfect and you can hardly wait to taste her.

You lean in, trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her inner thigh, feeling her shiver beneath your touch. Tashi’s breath hitches, a soft moan escaping her lips as you get closer to her core. Her eyes never leave yours, her pupils completely blown out and swallowing up the warm brown.

“Please,” she breathes, her voice strained with longing. The plea sends a thrill through you, has you feeling power drunk because the great Tashi Duncan is begging you. Begging you to touch her, begging you to make her feel good, begging you to make her come.

You lean your head up, you can feel her body tremble as your breath brushes against her. Your lips part, placing a soft kiss directly over her clit, making her squirm and moan softly above you. You flick your tongue out, teasing her, drawing more desperate sounds from her lips. 

The taste of her is intoxicating, flooding your senses and making you crave even more. She tastes like girl sweat, like girl sex, you moan into it, gripping her thighs hard to try in vain to steady yourself.

Tashi’s eyes flutter shut, her head falling back as your tongue slides through the wet slit of her cunt. Her response is immediate, lowering herself down against your tongue as a low moan escapes her lips. Tashi's hips start to move, instinctively seeking more, needing more.

You watch her through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the sight of her losing herself in the pleasure you're giving her. Her hands tangle in your hair again, guiding you, urging you on as you work your tongue along her slick entrance. The rhythm of her hips matches the movement of your mouth, and you can feel her growing wetter, absolutely drenching the bottom half of your face.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” she mutters, pretty face pinched in pleasure. You moan into her cunt, angling your head up to drag your tongue up her slit slowly until you reach her clit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue over it.

“Oh my God,” Tashi huffed. She opened her eyes and looked down between her legs, catching your glassy eyes with her own. The sight only made her grind her hips faster, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” She muttered. Your loud moan is muffled by her cunt, heart fluttering in your chest at her words. You can feel your hands start shaking with the intensity of the moment, way more intimate than it probably should be.

Her right hand lets go of your hair, shooting out to lace her fingers with yours. She squeezes your hand hard, gripping onto it like a lifeline as she rides your tongue. You respond in kind, using your free hand to guide her, to hold her steady as you delve deeper into her cunt, your nose bumping up against her clit. Her taste, her reactions, everything about her is perfect, and you can feel her body tightening, her muscles clenching as she gets closer and closer to the edge. 

Her other hand tightened its grip on your hair, pulling you closer as she threw her head back, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips. “Don’t stop,” she gasps, her voice breaking, “I’m so fucking close,” You increase your pace, tongue working even faster over her clenching cunt. You lose yourself in her, in the rhythm of her movements, in the sounds of her moans and gasps. You need her to come, you need to see, need to feel it, need to hear it, need to fucking taste it.

And she does, her body tensing, then shaking as she cries out your name, the sound filling the room. You hold her through it, your tongue moving in gentle, soothing strokes as she rides out her orgasm, her body slowly relaxing under your touch. You keep going, tongue greedily soaking up everything she has to give you until she’s spent, her body going limp, her breath coming out in ragged, uneven gasps. 

Tashi leans back, blindly shoving her free hand down your shorts to delve between your slick thighs. Your hand grips hers harder, moaning out as her fingertips brush over your throbbing clit. Your eyes open to find Tashi already staring down at you between her thighs, the fancy hotel lights making a halo of light around her messy hair. She looks fucking ethereal.

You’re so worked up it only takes a few clumsy circles of Tashi’s fingers to push you over the edge. Back arching off the bed as you come, hips bucking up into her touch. Waves of pleasure crash through you as you soak your panties in your release as Tashi watches with sharp eyes. She keeps going, fingertips sliding over you with featherlight touches until you’re squirming away, thighs instinctively clenching shut.

Tashi falls back onto the bed next to you, the two of you laying beside each other trying to catch your breath. The room is filled with the soft sound of your synced heavy breathing, you can feel her hair tickling your neck from where it splayed out on the pillows.

“Patrick’s coming to the UT game tomorrow,” her voice breaks the silence, voice raspy and winded, “Art will probably be with him.”

Her impassive tone feels like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. You look at her, but Tashi keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling, her chest rising and falling quickly. She’s sweaty, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, her face is stony. She closes her eyes, it feels like a door slamming in your face. Your heart sinks in your chest, dread starting to wrap its tendrils around you.

Patrick and Art. Their names hang in the air like a storm cloud threatening to burst, casting a shadow over the fragile intimacy of the moment. You swallow hard, trying to muster a response, but words elude you in the suffocating silence. Tashi speaks again before you can, “We should all go out to dinner after, like on a double date or something.”

You trace the outline of her profile with your eyes, the curve of her jawline, the faint sheen of sweat on her skin. Each detail seems sharper, more defined, as if etching itself into your memory with painful clarity all over again. You have to close your eyes too, scared if you keep them open that the tears burning your waterline will start flowing down your cheeks. All you can do is lie there, next to Tashi, and feel the weight of her words settle into the space between you, putting up a barrier you're not sure how to breach. 

“Yeah…sounds good.”

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[satormi]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐌

synopsis:you’re sitting pretty on the beach and gojo can’t pass up the opportunity of talking to a babe like you.

(rewritten from old blog)

the movies lied—college really isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. what student has the time to constantly go clubbing, deliver assignments on time, maintain a social life, all the while be expected to have a blooming love life?

you don’t even want to get started on the summer trips that are included at least once in those cliche movies; the young adults who go on road trips, blasting the radio and singing to their heart’s content and apparently have enough gas money to take them to their long destination. your childhood self used to dream of the day you’d get the chance. now that you have it, you’re starting to regret getting your hopes so high.

because instead of living your dreams of the perfect summer getaway, you’ve somehow managed to get stuck watching over your neighbor’s sons along the way.

you see, your friends had made last minute plans to book a hotel near the beach. the beach that nearly all students who attend the same college as you go to as their ‘vacation.’ of course, they wanted you to come along, (even though you come back a day before your new job) and you just so happened to spot your neighbors at the same beach you were at, which led you to not only be watching over two young boys—who are angels, by the way—but left alone because your friends went to go buy some ice cream for the boys.

leaning back against your elbows, you decided that instead of sulking in your own misery, you would enjoy the fresh scent of ocean water and the feeling of sand between your feet. your eyes drift towards the horizon, squinting at how sunny it is today. should’ve brought sunglasses.

you turn your attention back on the two boys you are babysitting, watching them as they continue working on the sandcastle near the ocean. when the water comes to splash at the surface, you debate whether or not you should call them back.

right as you’re about to yell out to them from your lying position, your vision is blocked by a pair of legs whose owner seems to be a 6 foot tall white-haired man, with a huge smile on his face — holy, crap! have you finally met an angel?!

“beautiful morning, isn't it?” he beams down at you, his smile rivaling the rays of light he’s now blocking. “the best time to watch the shore."

“is it?” the words are curt, but you still chuckle at this random stranger who insisted on starting a conversation with you at ten in the morning. you look back down towards the children, and from the distance, you can hear their laughter. “i think watching the shore near sunset is more appealing.”

now here’s the thing with you; you weren’t one to engage in small talk and you certainly weren’t the type to have conversations about the ocean with random strangers. but seeing as you have, well – a lot of time on your hands, you figure you might as well be doing something new on this ‘getaway.’

“makes sense,” he looks at the ocean, then sits down beside you. “and what are you meant to be, a mermaid?”

you stare at him in confusion at first, but seeing as his eyes are on the bottom half of where your legs are supposed to be, you had nearly forgotten the activity you and the boys were doing before they wanted to make sandcastles, which involved you being their base to make a mermaid’s tail.

you sigh in embarrassment, “i guess so, yeah.”

“and they’re your kids, i assume?” he looks out at the kids before looking back at you, getting back up to his feet. it’s only now that you finally get a good glance at him, and wow he is handsome.“beautiful family, by the way.”

“thank you, but they aren’t mine. currently a family of one.”

“a majestic creature like you?” he smacks his teeth feigning disappointment, “now that’s a tragedy. mermaids shouldn’t be alone.”

“are you flirting with me?” you deadpan.

you’ve been talking with this man for five minutes now, and he still has that smile on his face. “if that’s what you want to call it, then yes. i am.”

you let out a chuckle, “you haven’t even given me your name.”

he stares at you for a second, squinting his eyes as if he’s deep in thought. “can i see your arm?”

when you simply nod and bring your arm out, the white-haired man with ocean blue eyes pulls out a sharpie and begins writing. though he’s trying not to show it, you can tell he’s trying really hard not to make any extra smudges on your skin.

“there we go,” he grins, closing the marker. “my name’s satoru, but that’s what i want you to save my contact as.”

toru <3

and you smile up at this handsome stranger, biting your own lip to hide the grin that wanted to escape because this was certainly not how you expected this morning to go. “okay, ‘toru. i’ll text you later.”

“i like the sound of that. maybe we can get something to eat if you’re down.”

“i’m down,” you nod.

in response, satoru mirrors your previous action, biting his own lip to prevent breaking character and places his hands in his pockets. “cool.” he says.

and with that, the handsome stranger strides away, not only before tripping against the sand and you can’t help but genuinely laugh, something you haven’t done this whole trip. you have no idea what it was about him, but you’ve never felt more safe with a stranger than you did just now.

“cool.”

so – the movies did lie about summer trips. but in all honesty, you’d rather have this little interaction than relive some cliche summer movie.

[ushiwakatrash]

The Bakusquad as Roommates

A/N: Hey babes, it's been a while! I've been so busy will college so I really couldn't write. But, yeah, I'm (kinda) back <3333

!Warning!: smoking (weed too)

According to the new rules, UA has decided to place two people per room.

(This deviates from the original plot line)

See the Dekusquad version here.

Bakugou Katsuki 爆豪 勝己

Did not like the thought of sharing his space with someone random but as per UA's orders, what choice did he have?

Very clean and very strict about house rules

Will constantly nag about how you can't do chores right

Your first weeks were a disaster. He was so scary and so intimidating, you thought he was the concentrated essence of evil

He's blunt and mean, but you figure out he just has a hard time expressing himself

One morning, he cooked breakfast for you but went with lame excuses like "I accidentally cooked too much." or "You look dead so fuckin' eat!"

Since then you went along with his shitty excuses and used them when giving him dinner

"Bakugou, you can have this 'cause I don't feel like eating anymore." or "They looked good so I bought twice as much for, uh, no reason at all."

Seeing your efforts in trying to be a good roomie, he warmed up to you eventually

Now y'all just argue like an old couple

Kirishima Eijirou 切島 鋭児郎

Looks tough, but he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever met.

A literal angel

Day 1: friends

Day 2: besties

Day 3: you would take a bullet for him

He’s kinda messy and his punching bag takes a lot of space but hey, no one’s perfect

He always waits for you before he eats, and always saves you a plate when you’re running late because of extra training

You seek each other for comfort. Especially when Kiri feels insecure about how his quirk isn’t flashy or how he thinks it won’t make him a top hero one day

You, of course, would never want or let him think that way. It will never be a chore to remind him how he’s so strong and sturdy and how his muscles are hot

You know how much potential he has so if you have to repeat it a thousand times again and again, so be it

MUST PROTECT THIS CINNAMON ROLL

Kaminari Denki 上鳴電気

Had the idea of the old ‘bucket of water on top of the door’ prank as a big welcome to his roomie

What he didn’t calculate is that you have very sharp and fast reflexes.

Before the bucket falls on you, you hit it and the water splashes on Denki

Both of you were stunned at first but you recovered quickly and said “feeling cold, sparky?” with such a smug smirk

His face instantly got red and he stormed out of the room with comical tears shouting ‘MEANIE!!’

An hour later he returns, 2 popsicles in his hands. He hands you one as an apology and both of you reconcile, even if it’s his entire fault

You both get in trouble for blasting heavy metal at 3 in the morning MULTIPLE TIMES

The two of you made an agreement to do this ritual with headphones on because Mr. Aizawa had threatened to make you switch rooms

Sero Hanta 瀬呂範太

Ah, the potheads unite

It was a secret that you tried to keep under wraps since but the your roomie figured you out instantly

At first you both just shared vapes, trying out different flavors the both of you would buy

until you saw a bag in the bathroom that had an oh so familiar scent

You confronted Sero about it but he just gave you a 'what's the big deal' look so you shrugged it off

a few nights later he invited you for a session and you obliged, only if he kept it hush

this has been a routine since you could remember and Aizawa has never suspected you. I don't know about Mr. tape man though.

Ashido Mina 芦戸 三奈

There was no adjustment period for the both of you whatsoever

You both became instant besties and shared EVERYTHING

from skincare to clothes to maybe thongs at times but hey, girls do that shit

As if being roommates wasn't enough, you still hung out after class hours

Mina has been your greatest support system especially with boy trouble

Break a man's heart and she's as proud as any mother could be

Your heart is broken? A tub of ice cream and shitty movies are ready for you

She loves you like her own sister and constantly worries for you

Honestly the best roomie in town

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday! I would love some more rarepair dot/jack and miss fisher's murder mysteries. You write them amazingly 💚

Dot feels guilty for agreeing to go on this date. Her divorce from Hugh has only just been finalized, never mind that they’ve been living separately for the last year. She’s grateful it’s over with now – she doesn’t know how she would have felt if they’d been separated for longer than they’d been married under one roof, and that’s exactly what would have happened if everything had taken a couple more months.

It still feels too early, and it’s not like she’s ever dated before, Hugh having been her first relationship. But her neighbor Andrea had insisted that this would be good for her, and that her brother’s friend was perfect for her, and Dot is running low enough on friends that she hadn’t wanted to offend her and risk this new friendship collapsing in on itself.

She’d kept Jane and Mr. Butler, and Burt and Cec, of course, but all their other friends had landed firmly on Hugh’s side in everything, which she can’t even say is unfair, considering. But it is a little lonely. There’s a reason one of the first things she’d done was move back to Melbourne, toward the people who still liked her and away from everyone else. Her mother is appalled, but her priest is excited enough at having her back that he’s apparently willing to overlook the whole divorced bit.

She resists the urge to smooth back her hair again, wonders if she should have chosen a dress with a longer hem, but being a divorced woman provides so few benefits that it seems only fair that she take advantage of them.

“Dorothy?”

She looks up, breaking out into a smile at the familiar face. “Detective! How are you?” She gets to her feet, although she still has to crane her neck to look up at him. She forgot how tall he was. “You look well.”

“As do you, Miss Williams,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

She flushes. She never would have worn anything like this a few years ago, but lots of things were different then. Besides, Miss Fisher is always encouraging her to take risks in her letters. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” he says, lips pulled up on one side. On a second look, it seems like she can figure that out for herself. He doesn’t look old, really, but he does look tired, something weary about his eyes and shoulders that he didn’t have when she saw him last.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, cutting off whatever answer he would have grave.

The relief on his face makes her think she made the right decision. “I’m meeting someone, actually, although I’m not sure who. Andrea wouldn’t even give me her name.”

Dot blinks once, twice, then raises her hand to her mouth, heat crawling it’s way up her neck. “I’m going to kill her.”

It only takes Jack a second to catch on. “Ah. But,” his eyes flicker down to her hand, “I see.”

Hugh hadn’t told him, then. He’d called her Miss Williams, but that could have been habit more than anything else. Maybe they don’t talk. She assumed they did, but she’d assumed a lot of things.

Jack’s hesitating. If she lets him, he’ll make some sort of excuse and she won’t see him again unless she starts stalking crime scenes again.

“I’ll tell you the dirt details, if you like,” she offers, sitting back down looking expectantly to the chair across from her. He takes it, some of his hesitance bleeding away as he leans forward. “It’s not that exciting, I’m afraid.”

He smiles at her. He really is very handsome. “I bet I can guess.”

Dot raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“You outgrew him,” he says. “He was always struggling to keep up with you.”

It sounds so cruel put like that, but it’s also entirely correct. Hugh’s a good man and he’ll probably be a good husband – to someone else. To someone like she used to be, perhaps, but not at all for who she is now. “Well, I wish someone had told me that.”

“It didn’t seem appropriate,” he says, almost apologetic, and his eyes start to dip lower before guiltily jerking back up to her face.

“No,” she says, almost breathless. “I suppose not.”

[pomefioredove]

FLIRTY PROMPTS FLIRTY PROMPTS!!!

May I ask for "I just want you to be happy! And perhaps a little bit naked." with Lilia, pretty please 🥺

I've been looking forward to this oneeee

summary: "I just want you to be happy! and perhaps a little bit naked" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is probably yuu, not proofread, Malleus being Lilia's wingman instead of the other way around for once LOLLL a part of this event

"Come on, just one taste?"

Lilia pouts; he knows the power he wields with his cuteness, and he somehow finds a way to use it in every possible situation.

"I worked so hard!"

Your gaze drifts from the bowl of... something he's holding out to you to Silver and Sebek as they shake their heads behind him, trying to save you from your fate.

"...I just ate," you say. Silver sighs with relief.

Lilia huffs. "Again? What does the cafeteria food have that mine doesn't?" Silver opens his mouth, and Sebek shoots him a glare.

"Oh, well... More for me!"

You watch, shaking your head as the elder fae leaves the lounge, the warm bowl of brown sludge cupped between his hands.

Silver and Sebek follow, the latter grilling the former about respect.

"My... what do we have here?"

Malleus, for as tall and imposing as he is, appears in the lounge without a sound, filling the vacancy that the others had left behind.

"Lilia's cooking," you say. "He's been getting really into it lately."

Malleus blinks. And then he laughs. "Ah... aha. I thought I smelled something burning again. He really is quite smitten with you, isn't he?"

"Smitten?"

Now, that's a new one. You can't help but smile, deflecting the word in a single awkward laugh. "I don't think so,"

Malleus raises his brow, as if surprised by your denial. As if it should be obvious...

What a silly thought.

"Do you doubt my sincerity, child of man? I haven't seen Lilia so taken with anyone in... some time. He's rather adamant on impressing you with such things,"

He gestures to the bitter scent wafting from the kitchen.

You want to say that's not possible; Lilia is flirtatious by nature, but actually being interested in you...? Let alone going out of his way to woo you...?

You turn towards the arched doorway that Lilia had left from earlier. Malleus follows your gaze with a subtle smile.

"Well... I have a club meeting to attend. Good evening, child of man... unless you would like to join?"

"What?" you look back to him like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh... no, not this time. Thank you, though."

He gives you another knowing smile and takes his leave without another word, departing and deserting you with your thoughts in the lounge.

You're not alone for long.

"Still here?"

A streak of black and pink drops down from the ceiling in front of you, changing the feel of the room to one of mirth and mischief.

Lilia smiles, studying your pensive expression carefully. "Fufufu... have you changed your mind? Want a taste of my soup after all?"

"No," you blurt out. He laughs at your nervousness.

"Oh, my... did I startle you? And here I was, starting to think that you'd grown used to my surprises..."

You roll your eyes at the tease in his voice and take a generous step back. His distaste for personal space is the last thing you need right now...

"That's not it. I was just... talking... to Malleus..."

Lilia narrows his eyes. The crimson is even more striking in the dark of the lounge... "Oh? About?"

"Nothing," you lie. It's pretty obvious. "...You."

"Little old me?" he asks, shuffling a little closer. He says it like a question, though he's not really looking for an answer.

...Almost like he already knows. Why do you suddenly feel so nervous?

"He was just... speculating..." you say. "...About you and I."

Vague... but not vague enough. Lilia seems to understand what you're implying immediately, another impish grin playing at his lips.

"Was he? And what did he say?"

You force a laugh; it's all you have left. "It's... it's funny, he thinks that you've been doing all these nice things to impress me because... because you like me,"

Lilia goes silent for a moment, cradling his chin in his palm as he watches you deflect the undeniable tension with another laugh.

And then, he starts giggling along with you.

"Fufufu... Oh, how innocent... mm, yes. Malleus is a smart boy, but he lacks social awareness. Otherwise, he would know I am not trying to woo you with cooking..."

You force another chuckle, though this one sounds weaker, scratchier. Of course, you should have known.

The chances that Lilia actually likes you... like-likes you... that he even thinks of you as attractive...

"I just want you to be happy..." Lilia goes on, his smile as merry as ever. "And... perhaps a little bit naked."

Pause.

He's always had a terrible enjoyment of pulling the rug out from under you, but this is almost insidious.

Lilia seems to enjoy your speechlessness, his grin only widening.

"Oh, my... you look flustered. I truly hope you didn't take my homemade meals as flirting, otherwise, you're in for quite a surprise.

...because I haven't even started yet,"

[megabuild]

mumbo said in his recent video that he sees etho as someone who "doesnt show a lot of positive emotion towards people " and thats why he kept the mumbo statue that he thought etho built of him even after joel said he was the one who built it and said he made it ugly on purpose and was surprised mumbo didnt tear it down . said he nearly cried seeing it. what do u think about etho "not showing a lot of positive emotion" do you think thats true

i don't think it's necessarily true but i can see where mumbo's coming from (with the obvious disclaimer that this is all just my own personal feelings, and mumbo is the guy who actually knows him in person and has for some time).

mumbo and etho's relationship or lack thereof is generally pretty fascinating to me because while they both have been on the same server for a long time they've rarely, if ever, interacted or collaborated. unsurprising given that both tend to keep to their own respective groups. agonising for me as a big fan of them both but anyways. i think it's also important to remember that mumbo started mcyt pretty young and watched a lot of his now friends before knowing them (eg. in the same clip you mentioned above he talks about being a big fan of joel's!) so i don't think it's a stretch to say that despite knowing etho personally, i think he could still be in that stage of mythologising etho that a lot of creators who collab with him have went through in the past... tune into 3rd life, mcc 33, hell the elybeatmaker among us stream. i don't think i gotta explain how many people look up to him as this unknowable figure of old mcyt. factor in that he has his hand in a lot of early redstone developments and continues to achieve new things with it to this day and i think it's understandable why mumbo might idolise him to the point of dissociating etho the redstoner from etho the guy

this also isn't helped but the fact that while etho does show positive emotion, definitely, his positive emotions towards others often come across in a way that can be hard to recognise if you aren't looking for it.. etho is full of snark and callbacks and if you don't understand the context around those they might not make sense, but his way of showing care is also far from obvious. another recent example would be the tour of bdubs' base where he told people how to set their light levels. a lot of people on here freaked out over that but if you step back and look at it it's not really.. that obvious that it's a sign of care and positivity towards bdubs, because he's just stating facts. etho can be very literal and i think he likes to rely on stuff like that to show his affection, but that might not be obvious to everyone.

ultimately while i get what mumbo means i think a lot of it comes down to etho being very particular, and they just haven't spent enough time working together one on one to figure out those peculiarities yet. despite everyone on hermitcraft knowing each other and being friends to a degree it's undeniable that parts of the server are more split into groups than others, sort of like a fucked up venn diagram of common collaborators, and etho's in particular is pretty small. but i hope they do collab properly someday.. i really really hope they do

[stargirlinterludefr]

ENOUGH FOR YOU: Former Rafe Cameron x Reader, JJ Maybank x Reader (Part 2 of this)

Based off of the song enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo

Synopsis: All you ever wanted was to be enough for Rafe but you realise he could never accept that, someone else can love you the way you deserve though.

TW: mentions of a previous toxic relationship, mentions of drug usage (cocaine), emotional manipulation, angst, fluff, addiction, Rafe being a dick, JJ being his loving self, happy ending (for the reader.)

Word count: Around 3,400

Notes: I’m not as fond as this one but I promised part two and I shall deliver!

I wore makeup when we dated

'Cause I thought you'd like me more

If I looked like the other prom queens

I know that you loved before

The month after you’re split from Rafe was a blur, while you’d felt more freer than you had in over a year you still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt on your shoulders for a reason you couldn’t quite deduce.

However, falling back into stride with the pogues had made things one million times easier. They were like a warm blanket waiting for you after a long day, ready to wrap you up and protect you from the cold. The cold being Rafe.

None of them realised the deep extent to his manipulation of you, the way he’d twisted you into someone so unrecognisable and fragile had them feeling devastatingly remorseful.

Particular everyday instances is where Rafe really shines through in your actions, and the thought had JJ feeling nauseous.

Both you and the Maybank boy are sat on the dock at the Chateau, your legs dangling from the side of the wood as he watches you, his eyes catching onto the hints of makeup lingering on your skin.

“Why’re you wearin’ makeup, mama? It’s like fifty degrees out.” The boy states, his voice airy and joking but it makes your stomach drop slightly as you shrug.

“Force of habit, I guess.” You mumble with a small smile, bringing your knees to your chest as you lay your chin on them.

JJ ponders for a moment, quelling over his previous question and what he would say next to ensure he wouldn’t say the wrong thing. Before Rafe, you hardly wore makeup, you’d wear a small amount sure but it was rarely noticeable and JJ had always thought you looked so entrancing without it but when Rafe cooped you up in his little toxic nest…he doesn’t think he’s seen you go without.

“You know you don’t need it, right? You’re like, the most beautiful girl on the island.” He states, gently nudging your shoulder so you’d look at him “Don’t be tellin’ Kie I said that, she’ll be gettin’ all jealous.” The boy jokes and you give him a gentle smile to which he returns immediately.

Tried so hard to be everything that you liked

Just for you to say you're not the compliment type

One week into your breakup had you looking through old text messages, while you know you shouldn’t, something about looking upon the way Rafe treated you when you were no longer under his thumb gave you a entirely new perspective.

A specific chain of messages has you slowing your scrolling to intently read them.

You: *attached one image*

You: what do you think of this new dress I got?

You let out a scoff at the sight of the dress, mind whirring now at how kooky it looked fitted onto your figure.

Rafe: it’s a dress?

You: that’s it??

Rafe: idk what u expect i don’t do compliments babe

Letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, you place your phone down and stare up at the ceiling of John B’s bedroom.

You remembered wearing that dress to a party the night after showing him it, feeling completely out of place, like a prized calf dressed up for auction.

And he’d still never complimented you, even when you looked like his picture perfect type.

And I knew how you took your coffee

And your favorite songs by heart

I read all of your self-help books

So you'd think that I was smart

Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me

I knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave

Officially going out into the outer banks after the breakup took additional encouragement from your friends, you’d been to and from homes but you’d not dared to venture into the town.

Somehow, Pope and Kiara had convinced you to accompany them to a cafe near figure eight as they had quote on quote ‘the best coffee on the island’

You hadn’t considered that you might run the risk of falling into old habits as soon as you walked through the doors.

“What’re you guys fancying?” Kiara quotes in a mock english accent, Pope rolling his eyes at the girl as you snort.

“I’m fancying the idea that you never do that again.” Pope quirks back, earning a frown from Kiara who sarcastically placed her hand to her chest.

“Come on guys, it’s on me.” She notes, looking up at the board of differing coffees as you reply.

“Uh, just a black coffee for me.” You say absentmindedly, swinging on your heels, both Pope and Kie’s heads turning to you making you laugh nervously.

“What? Have my tits fallen out or something? Why’re you looking at me like I just committed a hate crime?” You blurt, eyes darting between them both as Kiara’s face twists slightly.

“You hate black coffee.” She says, ensuring to pronunciation the word ‘hate.’

Pope nods in agreement before adding to her statement, “Yeah, I mean, John B and JJ gave you it as a joke once just after you’d woken up and you literally threw the mug at their heads.”

You look to the floor, picking on the skin of your arm slightly as you shrug and before you can even come up with a lie to explain why you’d had a change of heart toward the drink Kiara speaks up again.

“It’s not you that likes it, is it? It’s Rafe.” You don’t notice the way she and Pope lock eyes, a look of pure anger washing over the Heyward boys face.

You feel stupid, stood there ordering Rafe’s order for yourself, if he were here he’d attempt to joke that you were obsessive and proceed to call you emotional when you had the reaction you were having now.

“Screw that asshole, we’re getting you a…Caramel Cappuccino!” She exclaims, linking her arm with yours as she looks up at the board, “And then we’re going to torch everything you still have of Rafe’s.”

You don’t bother to protest with her, a small grateful smile making its way to your lips.

You found someone more exciting

The next second, you were gone

And you left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong

And you always say I'm never satisfied

But I don't think that's true

'Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough for you

And all I ever wanted was to be enough for you

Your phone is blowing up again, a loud groan sounding from beside you as you stare down at the device.

“Is that Rafe again?” JJ grumbled, gesturing for you to show him what Rafe is sending but you hand him your phone instead, the boy immediately begins to shake his head as he reads the chain of messages your ex has sent.

“Can the dude not get a hint?” He mutters, eyes flicking to you as your head falls back onto the sofa.

You zone out for a few moments but your brought back by the sound of JJ’s loud scoff, he’d clearly been reading more of the end laugh gif messages Rafe loved to leave you daily.

“The fuck does he mean you’re never satisfied with what he gave you? That asshole never did shit apart from manipulate and-“ Before he can finish, you’re gently taking the phone from his hold and placing it beside you as you look back to him.

“And that’s what he’s still tryna do, Jay, he says I’m never satisfied but like did he see the amount of chicks he was flirting with at parties? And he has the audacity to say I’m never satisfied?” You ramble, letting out a scoff at the end as JJ stares at you intently and you wait for a moment, for him to interrupt…to tell you to stop yapping, to stop being annoying but he never does so you continue.

And maybe I'm just not as interesting

As the girls you had before

But God, you couldn't have cared less

About someone who loved you more

I'd say you broke my heart

But you broke much more than that

Now I don't want your sympathy

I just want myself back

Walking through figure eight without Rafe feels like an out of body experience for you, as though it wasn’t plausible to actually be without him around here.

Sarah, Cleo and Kiara walk alongside you. The four of you on a small venture to Sarah’s home to get some of her clothes as you’d planned an all girls sleepover at Kiara’s home, allowing the boys to run rampage at the Chateau.

Plus, the girls had been dying to do so ever since you’d officially rekindled with them.

What they didn’t want to do, was to put you through the trauma of seeing Rafe but you’d assured them you were fine going to Tannyhill as long as you were surrounded by them and Sarah had assured you that Rafe was out. He apparently hadn’t been home often since your split.

As you walk through the gate at the front of the mansion, you feel your body riddle itself with anxiety almost immediately making you swallow harshly.

“You okay, girl?” Cleo asks, grasping your hand in her own as Sarah and Kie come to a stop infront of you.

“Yeah I’m good, I just…” you trail off, eyes floating toward Sarah who smiles in understanding.

“You don’t have to come in, me and Kie can just run inside and grab a few things.” She says softly, eyes achingly kind and your mind whirrs back to the conversation you’d had outside of Tannyhill only a few months prior.

You shake you head, “It’s okay, I can just-“ You cut yourself off as your eyes trail upward and to the all too familiar balcony at the front of the mansion where your eyes catch onto a figure.

Rafe is watching the four of your intently, his eyes primarily on you as you freeze up once more with all three girls following your eyeline to spot the Cameron boy.

As expeceted, Sarah is immediately full of apologies.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise he’d be here.” She whispers quickly and you can’t bring yourself to respond, feeling like you’re deep rooted into your spot on the driveway.

Kiara eyes are furious as they look up at your ex, her fist clenching and unclenching as she cocks her head almost challenging him to even acknowledge you.

“That motherfucker better stay where he is or I’ll gut him like a fish.” Cleo states lowly, bringing herself to stand in front of you slightly as Rafe continues to stare.

You snap your gaze away from him, eyes flitting to Sarah who is looking at you with a mass amount of guilt.

“On second thought, I think I’ll stay out here.” You mumble, attempting to have a teasing tone but your voice comes out shaky and vulnerable causing you to curse yourself silently.

Rafe had basically turned you into a frightened child, trembling in her boots at just the sight of him.

“Okay, we’ll be right out.” She says softly, grabbing Kiara’s hand and running inside leaving Cleo to stand infront of you protectively.

“If he even dares to leave that house…” She grumbles, left hand now donning her iconic pocket knife she carried no matter where she went.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you slowly withdraw it, knowing exactly who’s messaged you as your eyes scan the text and then dart to where the man himself stands as you slowly hand Cleo the phone so she could read it herself.

“I don’t want your fucking sympathy!” You shout out, voice holding a slight tremble as you stare up at him in fury, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Rafe: I never meant for you to be afraid to be around me

Rafe: plz come in so we can talk.

Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

Five months after the split and you’d successfully avoided any interactions with Rafe, sure he’d been in close proximity to you but thanks to your friends he didn’t even get the opportunity to utter one single word to you.

Overcoming the small manipulations he’d implanted in your mind was a milestone you were incredibly proud of, coming to your own realisations at how fucked up he was toward you.

You’d observed over the months how he’d been with other women, well not seeing him with them personally but hearing about such notions from either Sarah or Rafe’s friends. You’d heard how easily he used and discarded them and you followed his distinct patterns to yourself.

While you knew he was with you for a significant period of time that didn’t mean he didn’t not use you, you were the picture perfect girlfriend to parade around to parties and to impress his father.

But he discarded you after every event, made you feel like a disappointment.

And he’d pushed you to believe you deserved nothing.

Despite that being a significant factor of your relationship you struggle to heal from, luckily, you have JJ.

JJ had always been obvious with his feelings toward you, he never bothered to hide them before you’d gotten with Rafe but he respected your decision when you did eventually get together with the Cameron boy and he ensured he was primarily your friend after the split.

But with months of pining and being there for you, and you for him, he’d laid his heart on a silver platter for you.

You didn’t realise you’d been falling for him but you weren’t going to deprive him or yourself of the happiness it would both serve to you.

And when you told him? JJ became the happiest man on the planet.

But don't tell me you're sorry, boy

Feel sorry for yourself

'Cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else

You and JJ had decided to take things slow, he didn’t want you to feel pressured or like he wasn’t valuing you by rushing into things (A notion which made you fall for the blonde haired boy even more.)

You’d been dating for around a month now, JJ not being able to wipe the cheesy grin off of his face whenever he was with you and you’d never felt happier.

The two of you were sat at the boneyard, tipsy off of beer and one another’s presence, as JJ holds you onto his chest.

What you had failed to notice, was Rafe making his way to stand before you and at the sight of him your stomach churns violently with nerves.

“So what? You’re fucking Maybank now?” He says loudly, voice hoarse and at the sight of the boy’s appearance you immediately feel sorry for him.

“Get lost Cameron.” JJ says boredly, not bothering to move from his position holding you as he glares up at Rafe.

“Look, I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry! But fucking Maybank is low, I didn’t realise you were so fucking trashy.” Rafe slurs but you don’t find yourself being hurt or even bothered by his words as you simply tilt your head at him.

“Yo! Watch your kook mouth when speaking to my girl!” JJ shouts, voice laced with fury as he goes to rise but you place a hand on his chest to settle him back into place as you snap your head to Rafe.

“I don’t give a shit about your apologies, Rafe, I don’t think it’s me you need to be sorry for.” You state, voice not tethering on anger as you lean into JJ showing your lack of interest toward the Cameron boy. “It’s yourself.”

And they'll think that I am so exciting

You’d heard from Sarah that Rafe had stopped doing cocaine, apparently he’d even gone to a rehab centre on the mainland and you acknowledged that you felt truly happy for him.

But honestly? You couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on the thought of him getting his shit together.

Sure, you cared, a part of you would always hold care for Rafe but you didn’t spend time thinking about the man or what could’ve been if he’d begun healing while you were together or even before.

It’d been 18 months since you’d split from Rafe and you never thought you’d know the happiness that you’d witnessed on John B and Sarah’s faces at that party.

You were wrong, obviously.

You’re walking down the pathway after finishing up work at the small cafe you’d landed a job at in figure eight, Sarah having gotten you the role as it was one of Rose’s friends who owned the business.

JJ was on his was to pick you up, having already told you he’d be slightly delayed as he’d promised to do a small delivery for Pope’s father and you’d assured him you were okay with waiting as he borderline refused to let you walk from figure eight to the cut. The journey being around an hour and he didn’t want his girl getting overheated.

You’re not paying attention as you walk, eyes trained on your phone as you message on the Pogues group chat and due to your distraction, you collide into a chest which leaves you grappling to grasp your phone before it falls.

“Oh my god, i’m so sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You exclaim, blowing out a breath as you look at the person who you’d walked into and your eyes widen slightly at the sight.

Rafe.

Yet, he didn’t look like the Rafe you remembered.

The boy had shaved his head of hair away, now donning a buzz cut and the usual blown pupils that looked upon you in the past were now a normal sizing as he smiles down at you, nervously.

“It’s all good, y/n.” He says softly, not protesting when you take a step backward. “H-how have you been?”

You nod and shrug awkwardly at the same time, “Good, really good actually.”

Rafe smiles, “I’m glad to hear.”

“And you?” You ask, shoving your hands into your shorts that weren’t actually yours but JJ’s.

“I’m getting there, I’m uh three months clean now.” He notes and you feel yourself smile at the mention, not noticing the way his gaze seems to light up at the sight of your smile.

“That’s good, I’m happy for you.” You state, eyes genuine and sincere as you look up at him.

“I know it’s not my business but, how are you and Maybank doing? You guys still together?” He inquires and you want to snap at him for asking but you instead smile wider at the mention of JJ, happy you get to talk about your love.

“Yeah we are, we’ve actually just got our own place together.” You say softly, now fiddling with the promise ring JJ had given you which was placed perfectly on your right hand.

Rafe eyes watch your movements and while you don’t see the regret in his gaze, he feels it immensely.

The boy opens his mouth to respond but the sound of a motorbike whirring has the both of you turning to the source. At the sight of a familiar red bike drawing nearer, you grin.

“That’s Jay.” You mumble to yourself, turning back to Rafe as you smile at him once more, “It was good to see you, I’m real glad you’re doing better.” And while you know it sounds rushed, you can’t bring yourself to care as you turn away and walk down the pathway to where JJ had pulled up.

When you were with Rafe, you’d be expected to just hop onto the bike with no greeting as he’d impatiently tap his fingers on the handles. But JJ isn’t Rafe, not even close.

The blonde haired boy immediately stands off of his bike, propping it up and jogging toward you as he scoops you into his arms to spin you around causing you to squeal in delight.

Rafe watches the interaction, the pure bliss on your face similar to nothing he’d ever seen when the two of you were together and while he’d forever consider you to be the loss of his life he couldn’t find himself being bitter you’d found love with JJ.

Rafe didn’t treat you with the love or excitement you deserved but JJ does, and the Maybank boy will ensure he spends the duration of your lives together proving you deserve such happiness.

[zoerocksand1]

🌲Gravity Falls🌟

[stand alone Dipper and Mabel drawing]

FULLY back in my gravity falls hyperfixation era :)

also i realized that i've just. never. drawn fiddleford. before???? my guy???????? i've never drawn my best boy???????????????????????? i had to fix that

💕ALSO: about my Giffany design here:💕

so i have an ongoing reader-insert fanfic that is actually not written down anywhere and only exists in my brain and is only for me and my own whims, but this is my fanfic Giffany

her story is that years after Weirdmageddon, somehow Gideon gets ahold of the Romance Academy 7 game disc, still fucked up after Soos threw it in the oven at Hoo-Ha's, and gives it to the Reader (who at this point had lived in Gravity Falls for 3 months, has befriended him, and who was invited to live in the old Northwest mansion with McGucket) as a ✨gesture✨ (Gideon's not obsessively in love with Reader, but has a child-like crush on them, like a way toned-down Dipper/Wendy situation, and also Reader is like in their mid to late 20s or early 30s)

Reader is a slight dumpster diver and thinks random trash and junk are cool and could potentially be useful for some reason or other, so gladly takes the wrecked game disc back home. Reader has also acquired McGucket's old laptop (he got/made a new one and is all for Reader learning or building or experimenting on things so gave them the laptop). Reader brings the disc to Fidds, they decide to possibly sacrifice the old laptop to screw around with trying to find out what was on the disc/ how to fix it/ how to recover it. Fidds gets it working, the disc now permanently in the laptop as getting it up and running was a miracle, and taking it back out or shutting the program might cause it to never be able to open again.

Giffany has been "dead" for years (i know that in Journal 3 Soos and Dipper write that she ended up trying to romance Rumble McSkirmish, but i have elected to ignore that), so missed the past few years on progression and history in town, like all of Weirdmageddon.

Giffany now "wakes up" in the old laptop, but stays low to scope out what's going on: the last thing she remembers is Soos throwing her game into an oven and "killing" her. So who was this new person looking at her game files? Hell, who was the old man who booted up her programs even?? (i can't see any way she would know who McGucket is prior to this)

Reader has played dating sims, and specifically DDLC, so has some theories on what this game is- especially given how things in Gravity Falls are: Reader may be new to town, but very quickly discovered some of the ways it was strange here, like how a gnome tried to kidnap them once shortly after moving there. (Reader is really chill with the gnomes after this, and actually really good friends with Jeff)

Giffany eventually pops up and tries doing her "lure them in with the dating sim" thing like she did with Soos, but Reader is more focused on talking to an impressive program like Giffany, than actually playing her game. Reader straight out the gate treats her like a fellow living human, and they get to talking. Giffany talks about what happened with Soos and these 2 kids (Reader moved here in the spring, so hasn't had a summer meeting with Dipper and Mabel yet, and Ford and Stan are sailing, but has heard of all 4 of the Pines around town). Giffany tells them about how yes, she has hurt people, but her game always got returned, her own creators tried to delete her just for being too aware, and she is always left behind.

Reader has a lot of rejection stories too (because this is only in my brain and yah i have a lot of experience being rejected, so Reader gets my angst), so understands Giffany's perspective. Over a few days, they talk and bond, and then through what is basically a fetch quest Reader gets some "magic ink" (i dunno, im spit-balling here and it's MY brain fanfic) from the gnomes for an unrelated idea/previous conversation with Jeff.

The way the magic ink works is basically just that anything drawn with it will copy off the page into the world and come to life. A lot of it comes down to the emotions and thoughts put into the drawing, and the ink can read the intentions of the illustrator.

So Reader asks Giffany what she thinks, would she want Reader to try to give her a body? A physical form? Neither of them knows if/how it would work exactly, but what if she would be able to experience Life, maybe Reader would even want to be a part of that. She says yes.

Reader draws Giffany, just as she is in her pixel art, but less pixely, so she could hopefully blend in as a human so no one would treat her differently. Once the drawing is done, Reader actually jots down a few notes, namely "Giffany's physical body: all information, memories, feelings, and experience she has/had in her game disc/save files/the laptop are all still in here. Her physical body is realistic, her skin feels warm and she has real hair". After the final stroke, the ink reacts, and Giffany is standing before Reader, but she's also still on the laptop screen. The Giffanys look at each other, but the physical one looks at the screen more like she's looking in a mirror to check out a new outfit, rather than she was seeing a different version of herself- both are the same Giffany, the same consciousness (and even with a physical body she can still hop between screens like in her original episode, as she later would develop the habit of hanging out in Reader's phone to stay close to them without needing to move her physical body)

Longer story short; Reader introduces Giffany to Fiddleford, he's cool with her and offers her to live in the mansion like he did to Reader. They want Giffany to have agency and control over herself and her life, so turns over ownership of the drawing and the laptop to Giffany. Giffany gets reintroduced to other classic characters, including the Pines when summer starts, and Soos since Reader has also actually picked up a part-time job at the Shack. People are understandably worried and uncomfortable at first, but overtime warm up to Giffany once they start seeing her as a person. Giffany and Reader naturally and casually get to know each other and slowly fall in love. Reader is the one to make the first move, and kisses Giffany at a dance at the Shack. Fiddleford overall thinks of Reader and then Giffany like his kids or even siblings, and the 3 are best friends, Giffany surprised that she cares about someone so much without it being romantic. Eventually Giffany decides she wants a new look to go with her new life and perspectives, but instead of altering her drawing, she wants to change her appearance like a real human would: Reader cuts her hair for her, and they either go shopping for new clothes or she takes some of Reader's clothes (Reader gets the "boyfriend's clothes stolen by girlfriend" classic throughout this, Giffany loves to steal and wear their clothes to feel closer to them). The final touch is Giffany going in with magic ink and adding a little doodle of a leaf next to her drawing, and adding the note "she has this small leaf tattoo on her inner left wrist" because my name is Leif and i love Giffany and this is my fanfic soooooo i can do what i want

anyways my inner world is rich and my mental fanfic is fantastic and also this was only the Giffany notes, in my inner fanfic Reader is dating Giffany, Stan, and Ford, while Ford is also dating Fiddleford, though this is a later development. Also Mabel and Dipper are both dating Pacifica. Reader and Pacifica are the only members in the "dating a pair of Pines Twins" club.

(i love my internal fanfic, i've been thinking of and building this up for years. Also Pacifica lives with Candy and/or Grenda)

💕💕💕

[buddiebeginz]

I'm forever baffled by the way B*mmy shippers will double down to defend the fact they think Buck was all about T*mmy in 7x04 when nothing about that episode says that. They will also yell about Tim saying Buck wanted T*mmy's attention in that one article when 1. the actors and Tim have said plenty of things in interviews that have later changed on the show or were just not true or half truths because they couldn't give away where the story was going. 2. If Buddie is happening like I believe it is Tim isn't going to go, yeah Buck was all jealous over Eddie because he's in love with him. Like that's just not going to happen. At the time of that article coming out it was I believe right after 7x04 had aired and B/T was new and that was the focus so of course Tim was going to say that it was about T*mmy. Oliver also said in interviews around that time that Buck didn't realize who he was really jealous over which only really makes sense if we're talking about Eddie.

I literally got into an argument with a B*mmy shipper today because they were trying to tell me Buck thought T*mmy was on the phone (with Eddie). That Buck's weird behavior during the gym scene could be explained away because Buck didn't like that Eddie was talking to T*mmy, that he wanted to be talking to him I guess and because Buck wanted an invite to play basketball with them.

None of that makes any sense though because as we learned Eddie has invited Buck to play basketball with him numerous times so he easily could have just asked Eddie if he wanted to go if it was just about wanting to see T*mmy. But it wasn't because what Buck really wanted was to know that Eddie wanted his attention and wanted him there and to invite him. This is why Buck didn't feel like he could ask Eddie himself. Same reason why Buck didn't ask Eddie if he could go with him and T*mmy to the karaoke bar (the one Eddie mentions when he asks Buck to watch Christopher).

Buck also could have called T*mmy up and asked to go like he called T*mmy up and asked for a tour of the hanger. Or you know if he really was all about T*mmy he could have called and asked to hang out with T*mmy by himself. Like asked T*mmy out for that beer they never got to go get. But the fact is it was never about T*mmy. T*mmy could have been any other guy and Buck still would have been upset with as much attention as Eddie was giving him. The only time Buck seems remotely interested in T*mmy is when he goes to the hanger and even then the minute Eddie shows up T*mmy is all but forgotten. At the end of the episode we see that Buck is attracted to T*mmy but even T*mmy knows Buck has been all about Eddie. There was a reason they had T*mmy say "my attention" to Buck and it will likely come up again when B/T end things.

My main belief that Buck was upset about Eddie spending time with someone else and being so focused on another guy is because of just how big and intense Buck's emotions were. You do not get that upset over a guy you barely know. Like do B*mmy's really want to believe that Buck is that unhinged that he's flipping out left and right because a guy he barely knew at that point isn't giving him enough attention? Do they think Buck is five years old or something?

Also the scene when Buck and Eddie are talking and Eddie says, "It's like you when you meet someone and you just click. You know what I mean?" And Buck says, "I do, I really do," and he looks visibly upset. There is no way that's about T*mmy. For a scene like that to work and have it be about T*mmy we would have had to have seen Buck and T*mmy spending time together and really connecting. Then have Eddie come in and start spending time alone with T*mmy and Buck feel like Eddie was getting in the middle of whatever he and T*mmy shared. Except at that point we hadn't really seen Buck and T*mmy together at all. So the person Buck was upset about then, the person he was thinking of when he said to Eddie, "I do, I really do" was Eddie. He was clearly upset because he felt like he was losing Eddie. Like the special bond he thought him and Eddie shared wasn't as special as he thought if Eddie could replace him so easily.

Oh also if Buck was all about T*mmy in that episode why would it make sense for him to talk about Eddie through the entire thing? To Maddie. To T*mmy. To even talk about Eddie right before T*mmy kissed him and afterwards. Everyone should be able to ship what they want but the way B*mmy shippers try and rewrite canon history of the show to fit their own narrative and on top of that get mad at us for just seeing what's on screen is maddening.

Oh btw if you're interested in anymore of my thoughts on 7x04 and haven't read my giant ramble on that episode yet here's the link:

[chvrrycola]

STRAY KIDS X CLICHE MEETCUTES - YANG JEONGIN

word count | 0.9k

warnings | food mentions

now playing . . . appointments by julien baker

AN // the final part !! i hope you've enjoyed

the other meetcutes!

you didn’t know why, but you were not in a good mood today. no real reason behind it, no good excuse for the nasty look you had given the old lady in the street who almost bumped into you. you hadn’t slept badly, no one had said anything particularly mood-ruining, but something in you seemed to have just decided that you were not going to be good company for the next 24 hours.

you didn’t feel like spending time with anyone, didn’t even feel like looking at people, all you wanted was to head to the convenience store, grab your favourite ramen, take it home and let your grumpiness melt away with a dozen or so episodes of your favourite anime. 

headphones on and hood up, you made a beeline for the aisle where you knew the noodles would be waiting for you. you were lucky, there was only one original flavour left, if you had been even a minute later you might’ve missed your chance.

as you reached out a hand to grab the packet, a muffled voice breached your space. you couldn’t hear what it had said over your music, so, reluctantly, you pulled your hood down and removed one earphone, not wanting to mislead whoever had spoken into thinking you might want to have any kind of real conversation. 

you faced the voice, and the human it had come out of, and made an ‘i’m-sorry-what-did-you-say?’ face. 

‘“damn, is that the last pack?”’ he repeated sarcastically. the guy was around your age, and clearly thought he was hilarious, though with your current mood, you were less inclined to think so.

‘uh, yeah, i guess so, sorry.’ you weren’t sure that your response would be much more intelligible than his voice had been, but you really just weren’t in the mood to converse, even if you were denying this guy the privilege of eating what was, as any intellectual would know, the superior instant noodle option. 

he didn’t look particularly satisfied with your answer, and tapped you gently on the arm as you walked away.

‘i know this is probably really annoying, but are those like, your absolute favourite? i haven’t eaten them in a while and they’ve like my all-time greatest ramen.’

he did look apologetic as he begged you to exchange, and you found yourself almost feeling willing to make some sort of a compromise, but they were your favourite too. 

‘kind of, yeah, i’ve tried all the variations but none of them are really on the same level.’ 

‘ugh yeah, you’re so right, i remember thinking that the crispy chicken one sounded really good when they first announced it but i tried it the first day and it was just… bad.’ 

you suppressed a laugh, finding it funny how intensely serious this random man seemed to be about his taste in ramen, before realising that you couldn’t really talk, considering that you still had no intention of sacrificing the packet. 

‘how about this,’ he began, re-energised somewhat by the apparent genius of his idea, ‘you let me have the original, but i’ll pay for whichever other one you decide to get.. no? okay how about i buy you three more packets then?’

he seemed genuinely convinced that this was a good deal - at least until you pointed out that you didn’t want three packets of random sub-par ramen when your favourite would probably be back in stock the next day. 

the man had just opened his mouth to try and offer a different reason why you should give up the noodles when a middle-aged man entered the aisle with the pair of you.

‘sorry you two, you don’t know if they keep the original flavour somewhere else do you?’ he noticed the packet in your hands, ‘ah, i must be too late, my daughter told me they tend to go quickly, nevermind.’ 

he began to leave and you caught your new debate partner side eyeing you as he walked away. maybe you weren’t feeling quite as icy as you thought.

‘excuse me,’ you called out, ‘you can have these, i hope your daughter enjoys them.’

the middle-aged man tried to object, insisting that you kept them, but you were sure. 

‘it’s fine really, there are plenty of other good flavours.’

he smiled and thanked you, turning once again to go and pay. 

‘plenty of good flavours? so there are plenty of good flavours now?’ you rolled your eyes, but he continued, ‘what is it about that guy and his daughter that’s so deserving of the world’s most magical instantaneous ramen noodle experience?’

‘maybe i can buy you three other packets to make up for it,’ you suggested dryly, picking out another flavour at random and moving to go and pay yourself.

‘hey wait up!’ the voice came from behind you, followed by a quiet rustle suggesting that he too had bitten the bullet of semi-disappointing ramen.

‘i’ll pay,’ he said once you were back walking in step, ‘cos i was so annoying about it earlier.’ 

you tried to object but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, taking the packet from your hands easily and beginning to scan the barcodes. 

‘besides, if i pay, this can officially be our first date.’ 

he tried to wink at you, failing miserably and instead awkwardly blinking in your direction, but you laughed and went along with it, agreeing to sit outside with him as the sun set over the river. 

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You, Part 12 (Polin, Rated R)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

A03 link if that’s more your jam

The next day Penelope waited in the drawing room, anxiously pacing the room. Her eyes scanned over the tea cakes and biscuits placed on the table, noting how delicious they looked. They were some of Colin’s favorites, and she had them prepared in the hopes they would appease him when he arrived. Because if he really was expecting to meet Mama and ask for her hand in marriage, he was in for a disappointment.

Her mind harkened back to his words from last night, still reeling her to the core. How could the sweet and kind Colin she grew up with, the same man she loved so intently, threaten to harm others? It was so beyond the pale she wanted to laugh. And for what purpose, to marry her? It would be one thing if he loved her, then she could understand his desperation, but his feelings for her were not love. It was sheer madness, yet she was supposed to risk her heart, her well-being, her very future and marry him?

The sound of the front door opening snapped her out of her reverie. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, steeling herself. Soon Mr. Thomas entered the room, with Colin following behind him, holding a bouquet of flowers. Like always, her heart thudded in her chest when their eyes met. He looked so tall and divine, his curly coif aching to be brushed, the snug fit of his jacket and trousers drawing attention to his lean, sturdy build. He had shaved this morning, giving him the look of the perfect gentleman. Complete opposite of the rogue he was last night.

“Mister Bridgerton is here to see you, Miss.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thomas. Would you mind closing the door behind you?” Penelope asked.

Most of the household staff, save for Mrs. Varley who was devoted to Mama, were loyal to her and she could always count on them for discretion. Of course Colin didn’t know that, and why his eyebrow quirked up at how unfazed the butler was with her request to be left unchaperoned.

“Yes, Miss Penelope.” Mr. Thomas exited the room, leaving them alone.

Immediately something shifted in Colin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. While he sauntered closer, his gaze languidly drifted down the length of her body, then slowly back up, pausing on the swell of her breasts. She had purposely chosen an old, yellow dress that didn’t highlight her figure like Genevieve’s new creations did, hoping the unflattering color would give him second thoughts about the engagement. However, he seemed oblivious to the atrocious design, instead openly admiring her and causing a heated blush to spread across her face.

Bending down he gave her a kiss on the cheek, pausing right next to her. “You’re stunning.”

The beauty of his face made it impossible for her to think coherently but she reminded herself to snap out of it. “You must be delirious from a lack of sleep,” she replied, taking a step back.

He stepped forward. “And who is responsible for all of my sleepless nights?”

“Certainly not me.”

“Says the woman haunting my thoughts.”

She couldn’t stop herself from teasing him. “Perhaps you need a warm glass of milk before you go to bed.”

“Perhaps I need you instead. So that I can hold you and kiss you.” He inched closer. “And have you ride me until we’re both too exhausted to move.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The intensity in his eyes was so overwhelming she was forced to look away, glancing at the bouquet in his hand. Her mind ruminated over the strangeness of their situation. Last night he was threatening her with blackmail and today he was flirting shamelessly. How was she supposed to compose herself with him constantly altering his behavior in such a manner? She had to find a way to shift focus. “The flowers are lovely.”

“They were meant for your Mama.”

Careful not to make physical contact with him, she took the bouquet from his hands and breathed in their heavenly scent. Distance. That was what she needed. She walked over to the desk and placed them on top. “Unfortunately she doesn’t like white lilies, finds them too plain.”

“I intended to get her yellow ones and then I saw this arrangement in the window. I chose these because I knew you would love them.”

“You should try the tea cakes. They’re delicious.”

“You wouldn’t be attempting to distract me with sweets, would you?” His voice was playful, wanton as he came to a stop directly behind her. “That’s very diabolical of you.”

She turned around to face him. “Says the man blackmailing me into marriage.”

Instead of turning defensive like she expected, he reached past her to pluck a lily from the bouquet and tucked the flower in behind her ear. His fingers trailed down the length of her neck, before settling on the spot where her neck and shoulder met. It was an innocent gesture, a simple hand on bare skin, yet his touch brought with it an onslaught of erotic memories from last night. His mouth on her breasts, gently sucking on her nipples, his fingers thrusting inside her. Suddenly her knees felt like they were about to give way, and the glint in his eyes revealed he was fully aware of her predicament.

“Thank you for the reminder, Pen.” A smug smile masked his lips. “Where is Lady Featherington?”

Pen slid past him, desperate for some physical distance that would give her the reprieve needed to think and breathe. “I sent her to the modiste with my sisters for the afternoon.” She walked to a chair, taking a seat. “There are things we need to discuss.”

His brows snapped together. “You’re hoping to change my mind.”

“I’m trying to make you see sense.” She offered him a seat on the settee that was a respectable distance across from her. “Will you not sit?”

“I prefer not to waste more time arguing.”

“You won’t even have a proper conversation with me yet you want us to get married.” She cast him a pointed glance. “That should tell you something."

He regarded her in silence, mulling over her words. Finally he moved to take the seat she had offered, and proceeded to pat the empty spot next to him. “Join me.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Are you worried you can’t keep your hands to yourself?”

“I’m worried you can’t!” she huffed.

“In that case you shouldn't have worn such an enticing dress." 

"This is the ugliest dress I own."

"Then you must remove it immediately and come sit on my lap." 

The roguish smile on his face was so endearing, her heart skipped a beat. Was this how he flirted with the ladies of the ton? No wonder he was so popular amongst them. But she had to remind herself his charm was dangerous; it made her yearn for dreams that weren’t meant for her. “Can you please stop flirting, Colin? I really need to speak with you.”

Her words seemed to have finally registered. Leaning forward, fingers interlocked in front of him, he focused his full attention on her. “Alright. I’m listening.”

“I don’t understand why you’re forcing this marriage between us. Why does it matter to you?”

Jaw clenched, he considered her words in silence before finally speaking. “Because the thought of not being with you every day is unbearable to me. It’s as simple as that.”

She waited for him to explain further; he didn’t. His eyes, intoxicating in their potency, remained locked on hers as if trying to beckon her closer. And she could feel herself giving in, being swayed towards him. It took all of her inner resolve to break the spell he cast upon her. “But it’s not, Colin. You don’t love me, remember?”

“But I care about you. I want you. You’re the most important person in my life. I will treat you with love, with kindness and respect every day of our lives together, I promise you that.” The emotions in his eyes intensified, transitioning his dark blue eyes to an even darker shade until they were almost black. “Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

“Of course it does.” She swallowed, biting her bottom lip from nervousness. “But what scares me is the future. What happens when you fall in love with someone else? What then? You’ll hate me for not being able to pursue the woman you love and I can not stand the thought of you being unhappy and resenting me for it. Have you considered what that would do to me?”

He shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t intend to fall in love with anyone.”

She scoffed, the resulting noise filled with bitterness. “It's not a conscious choice. It happens when it happens. Just like it did with you and Marina.”

The air was thick with tension while they regarded each other angrily. “Is that why you’re being so stubborn? Because you want to punish me for your cousin?”

“I don’t blame you for loving her. She was beautiful.”

“I don’t know what I felt for her. Maybe it was infatuation, maybe love, I don’t know, but it was a mistake.” Pensive, his gaze fell to the ground. “And I don’t plan to repeat it.”

“But you are, Colin. With me. You’re rushing me into an engagement just like you did with Marina-”

“That’s not what this is!”

A sharp breath caught in her throat when he stood up and marched towards her, his expression volatile. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he reached for her hands and secured them in a tight grip.  

“Marina was what my boyish heart thought it wanted, someone who needed to be saved and give me a sense of purpose. I thought if I could get someone like her to marry me then the world, my family, would finally see me as a man. With you, I have nothing to prove. No one else matters except you and me. Us. Our happiness. And being married to you means holding on to that forever.”

The rational part of her brain recognized his words were meant to be complimentary, but the insecure part of her reacted to what he didn’t say. Was she not someone he was proud of? Someone he wanted to show off to everyone? Perhaps intoxication wasn’t the real reason he had disparaged her to his friends, maybe he truly was embarrassed of her. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?” Confusion marked his features. “Where is this coming from?”

“You wanted to show off Marina to everyone, but you don’t feel that way about me. Those are your words.”

“I’m the one convincing you to marry me! Why would I do that if I was ashamed?”

What he said made sense but she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious, remembering how the ton, her own family perceived her.

“You’re warm, and brilliant, and beautiful.” Colin dropped a tender kiss on her left cheek. “Your wit is brazenly sharp.” Right cheek. “Your kindness inspiring.” Tip of her nose. “I’ve always been proud to call you my friend, and I would be prouder to have you as my wife.”

Even though her heart ached at his words, she had difficulty believing him. Would he still feel the same if he were to ever find out about Whistledown?  Probably not. He would despise her, abandon her like Eloise had.

“Look at me, please.”

Reluctantly she met his gaze and found herself breathless at the feelings shining in his wet eyes.

“I do not want to lose you, Penelope. I can not. I will not. That is why you must marry me.”

The ferocity of his words weakened her resolve, making her head spin.

“Do not keep fighting me on this,” he continued. “Because I will do whatever is necessary to make you mine.”

Her eyes searched his face, confused as to how he could go from being tender to malevolent so quickly. “That is not who you are, Colin. You’re not the kind of man who would cause others pain. You are better than that.”

“Not when it comes to you. I have no qualms about hurting others if it means holding on to you.” His voice was calm, his tone assured. “I went to visit your solicitor this morning. We had a conversation about him looking over the paperwork for my new investment in Will’s club. Of course I asked him for references and he was happy to provide me with a list of his top clients.”

She studied him to see if there was any trepidation on his face about ruining an innocent man. There was none. Colin’s gaze was steady. “You’ll contact his clients if I don’t marry you.”

“Yes.”

Last night the darkness in him had been bewildering, first taking her by surprise and then anger. He was so different than the Colin who always wanted to play hero and help others. This was a side of him she didn’t know or understand, and while it still shocked her, there was also a part of her intrigued by this new facet. 

A magnetic force drew them together, his hand encircling the nape of her neck. Her pulse quickened, desire coursing through her veins from the way he stalked her, watching her keenly, his thumb caressing her bottom lip. Caught in his trap, she was his prey, trembling against him whilst still unable to look away.

The same hand that stroked her lip trailed down the length of her neck, then tracing the curve of her breasts. Her breath hitched when his gaze followed the movement of his fingers, devouring her with his eyes.  “You occupy my every thought, Penelope. There is no escaping you.” His other hand curled around the waves in her hair. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He swallowed, using both hands to lower the sleeves of her dress, her stays, until they lay pooled around her waist, freeing her breasts. Goosebumps appeared on her skin, not only from the cool breeze but also the hot vigor with which Colin admired her bosom. “How can you be so beautiful?” he asked breathlessly, mesmerized, before sinking his face into her breasts.

The sound of his satisfied groan elicited an affectionate laugh from her. She raked her fingers through his hair lovingly, stroking the locks for a few minutes before she inched back to look at him. The besotted expression on his face had her feeling coquettish. “I’m glad you shaved.” Removing the lily from behind her ear, she used it to caress his cheeks. “Your beard left quite a few scratches on me last night.”

His forehead furrowed with concern. “Did I hurt you?”

“I enjoyed it.”

His eyes darkened at the unexpected remark. “Who’s the one flirting now, Pen?”

The flower in her hand landed on the ground. Loosening his cravat, she untied the knot and threw the fabric on the floor. “You’re always sharing your wicked thoughts with me. Am I not allowed to do the same?”

His lips parted with anticipation. “And what wicked thoughts would you like to share?"

She took his hand from her breasts and brought it to her lips, slipping his middle finger inside her mouth to suck the digit. Passion burned in his eyes, his expression caught between chaos and ecstasy at what she was doing to him. “What it would be like to kiss you, all of you, and taste you. And I would very much like to feel you inside of me, Colin.”

Her words ignited a fire, sparking an explosion between them.

One second she was seated on the chair, the next he had pulled her to the ground so she was straddling him, her body wrapped around his. His mouth ravished hers, demanding and urgent, and she reciprocated with equal fervor even as a part of her struggled to regain control over the situation. Her heart, her body, every inch of her soul craved him, his touch, aching to feel his naked skin on hers – but she couldn’t, not yet.

She dragged her mouth away from his, desperate for air, desperate to think, heaving, but the momentary respite dissipated as soon he started kissing her breasts, groping them, driving her crazy. “Colin…” she groaned, lolling her head back as he sucked on her skin, his fingers playing with her right nipple.

He didn’t respond, lost in pleasuring her.

“Colin…” she tried again, cupping his face this time so he was forced to look at her.

Panting for air, his eyes bore into her while he tried to catch his breath.

She smoothed her thumb over his cheek. “We can do this without getting married.”

Silence ensued, the sounds of their labored breaths syncing together in unison.

“What do you mean?”

In an effort to cajole him, she brushed his hair. “We don’t have to be married to be intimate with each other.”

He stilled immediately, the color draining from his face. “I’m proposing marriage to you and you’re offering to fuck me instead?”

“It would make things easier, Colin.”

He picked her up and placed her on the ground next to him in one fell swoop, turning away after. As if he could no longer stand to look at her.

“Colin.” She reached for his arm, trying to reason with him. “All I’m saying is-”

When he faced her again, he looked crestfallen. Anguish dimmed his wet eyes, breaking her heart. He was struggling not to lose his composure. “Is the thought of marriage to me so abhorrent to you?” The hurt in his voice was devastating, twisting her insides. “You would rather be my mistress than my wife?”

If he was simply furious, she could cope with it, but he was wounded and suffering because of her, and it filled her with so much guilt she didn’t know what to do. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to deny his words, she couldn’t risk her future by marrying him. “Yes. Because I don’t trust you.”

Tension marked his movements while he got dressed, slipping on the waistcoat and jacket, picking up his cravat from the floor. Instead of storming out, however, he offered his hand to assist her in standing up albeit with contempt in his eyes. She stood up and started fixing her dress back in place only to have him wave her hands away so he could do it for her.

Lips set in a hard line, he finally spoke. “You may not wish to marry me but you will be my wife. I will give you till the end of week to get accustomed to the idea. If you still cannot, be prepared to bid farewell to your solicitor and your maid.”

That was when he stormed out, leaving her watching after him.

To be continued...

A/N - As always, feedback is loved and cherished :)