#in order to appear as the perfect socialite

[stickystarspectrumtroll-ocs]

Thinking about what existing fictional characters your OCs would relate to and identify with the most is really something.

My girl Allets really be out here with a kin list that includes

Adora from She-ra and the Princesses of Power,

Nimona from Nimona,

Adrien Agreste from Miraculous Ladybug, AND

Henry Jekyll from The Glass Scientists.

I love her so much.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Can you do Rafe’s reaction to reader being criticized by her parents in the forced marriage au?

At your defence || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: Ty for the request anon!! Sorry this took awhile 😭

Warnings: body shaming, baby pressure, ed is not implied whatsoever in this

Word count: 1,474

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"Ah, there they are," your mother beams, rising from her chair with a delighted smile. She moves swiftly toward Rafe, who holds your 7-month-old son, Leo, in his arms. You remain still, not even turning your head to greet them, a small defiance that doesn’t go unnoticed by your father as he sets his glass of scotch down with a faint clink.

You hear your mother’s cooing voice as she reaches Leo, her fussing over him overly enthusiastic. "Oh, hasn’t he just grown since the last time!" she gushes, taking Leo from Rafe’s arms and settling him onto her lap, her affection almost too much for you to bear in the moment. Your father offers nothing but a curt nod, maintaining his usual distant reserve.

Rafe’s presence draws closer. His hand, firm yet not unkind, comes to rest on your shoulder. The sensation causes you to look up, meeting his eyes just as he leans down to press a brief, familiar kiss on your cheek. It's a gesture you’ve grown used to—affectionate, yet tinged with a sense of routine rather than passion. His gentle smile is meant for show, a mask for the public image you both maintain especially in front of your parents.

As he sits down beside you, the warmth of his thigh presses against yours, his hand resting on your knee. You focus on Leo, who babbles away in your mother’s lap, a sweet, innocent sound that eases some of the weight on your chest. "Do you know what you're going to order?" Rafe’s voice is casual as he flicks through the menu, his tone suggesting the same routine formality that colours most of your conversations these days.

You glance at the menu half-heartedly, appetite distant. "Probably just a salad," you mutter, though the words feel hollow, like so many of your thoughts these days. Before you can dwell on it, your mother’s voice cuts through the room, bright and commanding as always. "Darlings, I'm hosting a gala next week. You must attend," she declares, not so much an invitation as an expectation.

You don’t bother to respond right away, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. "Of course we’ll be there," he answers smoothly, already accustomed to fulfilling the social obligations expected of you both. His answer is automatic, effortless, as if this was just another item on the long list of duties you both perform for the sake of appearances.

Great. Another event. You force a smile, knowing full well what it would entail—another night of pretending. Pretending to be the perfect wife, locked in a marriage that felt more like a performance than a partnership. Another evening of tight smiles, polite laughter, and meaningless conversations with socialites you’ve long grown bored of.

Rafe’s hand remains on your knee under the table, a subtle gesture of unity that contrasts the emotional distance. You glance sideways at him, wondering if he feels the same weariness, but his expression is unreadable, composed in the way he’s perfected over time. You’d both become skilled at it—this charade of happiness.

Your mother gently hands Leo over to you, his little arms immediately wrapping around your neck as if he’s missed your warmth. The sweet gesture brings a chuckle from your lips, a sound you rarely hear from yourself these days. Rafe notices, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches the two of you, the rare moment of peace settling briefly between the tension.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper to Leo, your hand softly patting his back as he squirms in your arms. His tiny fingers soon find your family crest necklace, grasping it with curiosity. It’s a simple, innocent action, yet it tugs at something deeper within you—a reminder of the weight that symbol carries, not just for you but for the life you're expected to live.

Your father calls for a waiter, the sound of his authoritative voice interrupting your thoughts. The orders are taken swiftly, and when it’s your turn, you manage to say, "I'll have the Nicoise salad, please—" before you're abruptly cut off by your mother’s sharp tone. "Oh, no," she interjects, her voice firm, slicing through the air.

You and Rafe exchange confused glances, both unsure of what she was going to say. Her stern eyes focus on you for a moment before she turns her attention back to the waiter, the smile on her lips tight and forced. "She will have the Club Sandwich, thank you," your mother says, closing her menu with a finality that leaves no room for argument. You stare at her, lips parted in disbelief, as the waiter politely retreats.

"That’s too much for me, I—" you begin, but she raises a hand, silencing you effortlessly, as if it were nothing. "You’ve gotten far too skinny, my dear," she remarks, her tone almost casual but laced with that familiar sting of judgement. "A body like that will surely not produce a healthy baby." The words fall from her mouth so easily, so thoughtlessly, that it takes a moment for them to truly sink in

Your chest tightens, the prickle of tears stinging your eyes, but you quickly look away, blinking them back before they can betray your emotions. "What is your chef feeding you? Perhaps I should overlook his menu," your mother continues, leaning forward slightly, her concern veiled by her need for control.

Instinctively, your eyes flicker toward Rafe, cursing yourself the moment you do. It’s a habit you’ve never quite broken—looking to him when your parents begin their critique, hoping for some sort of allyship. Your parents likely notices, and you hate that you’ve given them another tell. Rafe, to your surprise, responds with a tone of calm indifference.

"We both eat the same meals, all very nutritious, I can assure you. There’s no need for concern." His words are delivered with an air of boredom, as though he’s tired of the performance your family demands at every turn. "My wife is perfectly fine and healthy," he adds, his voice steady, almost detached. You lower your gaze, staring at the table in front of you, feeling an odd mixture of gratitude and discomfort at his defense.

Your mother’s hum lingers in the air, hovering between indifference and criticism, and that ambiguity leaves you restless. As the conversation continues around you, the voices blur into a distant hum. You stare blankly at the glass of water in front of you, losing yourself in thoughts that feel miles away from this table, from these expectations.

You don’t even notice Leo beginning to fuss in your lap until Rafe’s hand on your thigh gives a slight, firm squeeze, gently pulling you back to reality. You blink, looking up to find both of your parents' eyes trained on you, their disapproving expressions almost instinctual. Without a word, you begin to tend to Leo, but Rafe is quicker, reaching out with an effortless, "Here, let me take him."

Relieved, you let him lift Leo from your arms, watching as he settles the baby against his chest. Leo quiets almost immediately, and for a brief moment, the tension in the room seems to ease. Rafe's hand remains on your thigh, a subtle reassurance that grounds you amidst the weight of your family’s expectations.

When the meals arrive, you glance down at the sandwich before you—far too large for your diminished appetite. The sight of it makes your stomach turn, not out of hunger, but out of the pressure to conform. You can feel your mother’s watchful gaze, an invisible but palpable force, compelling you to start eating.

You take a bite, swallowing it down even though the taste barely registers. "Mind if I have some?" Rafe’s voice breaks through the silence, and you turn to him in surprise. He’s already reaching over, transferring some of your food onto his plate without hesitation, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Yeah, of course," you reply softly, watching as he begins eating from your plate. His casual gesture surprises you, but it also lightens the mood, if only slightly. A small smile tugs at your lips, grateful for his quiet way of easing the tension that lingers between you and your parents.

When it’s finally time to leave, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. Bidding your parents goodbye, you stare out at the perfectly manicured lawn, the scent of freshly cut grass filling the air. Leo is fast asleep in your arms, his little head resting peacefully against your chest.

"Thank you," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you glance over at Rafe. He turns his head toward you, his expression softening. Without a word, he nods, moving his arm behind your head. You lean back against it, letting yourself rest against his warmth for a moment.

[amethystandemma]

The Wedding of Bruce Wayne and Silver St. Cloud

TW: shootings and death

. . . . . . . . . .

Never had such an occasion as this before had occurred, and never would it happen again.

The wedding of Playboy Bruce Wayne and Socialite Silver St. Cloud had been all Gothamites had been able to talk about ever since their engagement had been announced. For the first time since Batman first made his appearance eleven years ago, someone other than the Caped Crusader made the front page of the Gotham Gazette. The picture of the two lovebirds exiting the Gotham City Playhouse was taken by Vicki Vale and was in the hands of every Gotham citizen the next morning.

That had been months ago. All everyone could discuss was who would be on the guest list, rubbing elbows with the hottest celebreties and infamous socialites; including King Orm and his wife Queen Mera, Jack and Janet Drake, Oliver Queen and his wife Dinah Lance, and many more wealthy individuals. Reporters such as Clark Kent and Lois Lane were in attendance, though not as newsmen but as guests.

People of all different backgrounds, ethnicities, and even species were there, but they could all agree on how gorgeous the bride was.

Silver St. Cloud wore a pale, off the shoulder periwinkle dress with long lace sleeves and an empire waist. The dress had been designed by herself and Princess Aqua Charming of Brooklinia and had taken weeks of tireless effort to create. Aqua spent many late nights awake in order to make the dress perfect. Her hard work had paid off.

All the preparations, all the hard work, it all led to this moment at the altar.

“Twenty-five years ago today, I met you.” Silver St. Cloud brushed a strand of her white hair back behind her ear, the elaborate bun trailing down her back. She blinked back the tears in her silver eyes. “As you might recall, I was playing in the woods nearby Wayne Manor, when you mistook me for a forest sprite and ran away screaming.”

The audience laughed. Aqua could have sworn that she even saw Bruce blush.

“We’ve been through so much together, and we even welcomed a son, Arian, into the world,” Silver continued. Arian opened his eyes when he heard his name, squirming in Aqua’s lap. “I cannot wait to spend the rest of my days with you, come Hell or high water.”

Dick reached over and squeezed Aqua’s hand. She smiled at him and rested her head on his shoulder. This was the exact kind of wedding she wanted someday with him. Jason glanced over at them and made a gagging motion, but his heart wasn’t in it. Even he was moved by the ceremony.

Bruce rubbed his thumb gently over Silver’s hand, clearing his throat.

“I have been in love with you even longer than I knew what love was,” he started. “You’ve always been there in my darkest times, always been there when I needed you. I cannot keep any secrets from you, for you know my heart better than even I do.”

Jason gagged again, but Aqua saw him wipe away a tear. For a man that sometimes appeared cold and distant, he sure knew how to sweep an emotional teenager off of his feet.

“I promise to never shut you out when you want to help, and to love and to cherish you as long as I shall live.” He continued, his voice choking over the last word.

Silver wiped away a tear, never taking her eyes off of his. The reverand, Norman McCay, cleared his throat.

“Do you, Silver St. Cloud, take this man, Bruce Thomas Wayne, as your husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?” Norman McCay asked.

Silver smiled. “I do.”

“And do you, Bruce Thomas Wayne, take this woman, Silver St. Cloud, as your wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”

Bruce lifted Silver’s hand and kissed it. “I do.”

Tears started to fill Aqua’s eyes.

“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you-”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Screams filled the church as the gunshots echoed off of the cold stone walls. Faces that once had looks of joy and passion were now overcome with horror and fear. A wave of panic hit the guests as everyone tried to move in different directions. Aqua went from standing in disbelief to on the ground, Dick’s body protectively over her’s and Jason’s.

“Stay down!” He shouted.

Arian’s wailing in her arms was drowned out by the sounds of panic around them. Aqua felt droplets of tears rolling down Jaon’s face landing on her arm.

Bang! Bang! Bang-

The shooting stopped, but the screaming did not.

“Is everyone alright?” Diana Prince shouted, the only way to be heard above the chaos.

Aqua sat up in a daze, gripping on to Arian’s small body with one arm, her other around Jason’s shoulders.

“We’re okay,” Dick shakily answered.

“How could this happen?” Jason whispered, his face pale. “So many super-people and… and…”

He buried his face onto her shoulder, his body shaking like a leaf. Aqua couldn’t hear the crowd anymore, as a ringing filled her ears. Dick turned her face toward his. She could see his lips moving, but couldn’t hear the words coming out.

“Help.”

Arian’s loud wails are what broke her out of her stupor.

“Where’s Bruce?” She asked, shooting up.

Dick paled. The two turned to the altar.

Norman McCay limped towards them, a trail of red following his left leg.

“Help them,” he gasped.

A flash of red and blue went across her body. Superman caught the minister right before he collapsed. Dick staggared forward, his steps quickly turning into a run. She saw what he was running towards a second before he got there.

Bruce Wayne, the suave, handsome groom sat on the ground, tears freely flowing down his face. In his arms, his beautiful bride staring blankly at the ceiling, her silver eyes unfocused and clouded. Her gorgeous dress was completely covered in blood.

“Silver… oh Silver,” Bruce whispered. “Wake up…”

Arian’s wails echoed throughout the now silent chapel.

“Wake up…”

Never had such an occasion as this before had occurred, and never would it happen again.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

i think one of the biggest threats between people pairing solaris and the fabricator has to be the way that they conduct themselves- as far as we're aware from an external perspective. canonically, though the two of them work together frequently- resulting in horrifically lethal machines- they're about as different as they can be.

if you ask me, though, i don't think it's an issue at all. if anything, i think someone like solaris is exactly what the fabricator needs.

for never really getting a moment to herself in the spotlight, we know a surprising amount about the fabricator, and we can safely infer a whole lot more.

from the power that zor lends to her, she seems to be a very critical component of zoraxis. it's a sentiment the agency also parrots, regarding her as zor's runner up in regards to her own lethality. it does, however, come at the consequence of losing the majority of her free time. she's a diligent engineer to a fault, to the point where she'll sacrifice her own time and sleep in order to complete projects she's been assigned to. as highly as she regards herself, she puts zor before her- which, considering her conduct, seems to be quite a big deal for someone like herself.

and even beyond her work with zoraxis, we have to consider what she does with the rest of her 'spare time'. she's the head of a front facing fashion business that seems publicly unaffiliated with the megacorp, meaning even post 3, she still has just as much work on her hands as she did before zoraxis' exposure. people are still buying her products, and she's still rolling out new ones. as a renowned designer- someone who assuredly has the majority of her free time eaten up by the formalities and outings mandatory of socialites.

you can make a pretty solid argument that- as self important as she appears on the surface- she is running herself into the ground for everyone other than herself. her needs canonically come after zor's, and considering what little time she must have to spare after working on their projects, it seems her needs come after her clients' as well.

and then there's solaris. relatively new to zoraxis, so it seems, and without the same dedication to the company that her coworkers seem to share. she's dedicated to her work first, herself seemingly second, and the company third. it's the perfect blend of being a diligent worker and a horribly insubordinate employee.

do i think fabby would hate her conduct at first? oh, absolutely. being forced to work alongside someone who couldn't care less about the boss she so diligently devotes herself to? someone so unlike herself? so blunt and unrefined?

… i do think, though, after long enough, solaris is the perfect individual to turn into an unwitting lifeline.

solaris is the fabricator's only window into a world beyond the little pen she's caged herself in. a world where zor's every wish isn't her command. a world where her every decision and action isn't scrutinized- by her boss, by her clients, by the media, by whoever else she dares to keep close to her. a world where she doesn't need to perform for those around her to tolerate her.

solaris is far from polite society. and yes, that means she's inelegant and hard to parse. but that also means she doesn't bother to judge the fabricator on any of the standards she's been forcing herself to uphold.

solaris is a blank slate. a brief respite. an intellectual equal who doesn't layer expectations on her already broken back.

i do think it's something fabby wouldn't know to truly appreciate until she leaves zoraxis. until she realizes how suffocating life is when she's back to performing for everyone she knows. when she doesn't have anyone to affirm the invisible thought that zor's working her too hard… you don't notice what you have until its gone. john's gay ass isn't the only one masking is all i'm saying

[seriously-nobody]

That post would be a fun read for sure

Ok cool! This may be a bit long because I have a lot of ideas on Alistair's insecurities. I might actually end up writing a one shot on it at some point.

I think as a child he was very influenced by his mother as well as look like her. He might’ve had her eyes and similar facial structure. So I think his father hated him for that. I'm almost sure when his wife died, he probably abused Alistair because he looked/acted/talked like her.

Fast forward to after he got kicked out and got his manor back.

As an adult, I think he takes a lot of influence from the current trends in fashion and appearance. So he cuts and syles his hair to be short, even though he likes it a longer length. And he grows out his sideburns to look more masculine even though he finds them uncomfortable. He wears a corset under his attire to better figure his frame. He wears heeled shoes, a tall tophat, and occasionally a long popped collar cloak to gain height over everyone. I think he's both insecure about his height (which I headcanon to be 5'6") as well as a way to intimidate the people around him. He holds a cane as an accessory as well as to reprimand his staff when they disobey his orders. He wears veneers so his teeth are straight and pearly white.

Ok, another fast forward to after his death.

He absolutely hates his appearance. His hair is longer, yes, but it's in such constant disarray. Though he's balding at the top of his head where, thankfully, his tophat covers most of it. His sideburns are long and wiry and so uncomfortable. His teeth are back the way they were before he got veneers, so they're not perfect as he liked them. His eyes are sucken in and don't look like his own anymore. His face is riddled with wrinkles, and his bone structure protrudes out in unnatural ways. His body is aged and decrepit compared to how young and able he was when he died. He actually has to use his cane now that age has given him issues with his left leg. He hates it. All of it. And he misses how he used to be looked at with envy by the other socialites.

[cinema-tv-etc]

Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift in A Place in the Sun April 26, 2014  CLASSICS, MOVIES  By writerjoanne Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift were two of the biggest young stars in the movies by the late 1940s. It was inevitable that Hollywood would pair these popular actors together on the silver screen. A Place in the Sun turned out to be the first of three movies they would appear in together.

I’m sure almost anyone would agree that Taylor and Clift made a great movie couple. They had a very strong chemistry together, both on and off screen. They formed a friendship while filming A Place in the Sun that would last until Montgomery died when he was only 46.

It’s hard to believe, but Elizabeth was only 17 when this film was made. It was one of her first adult roles. She’s absolutely beautiful, and her wardrobe alone makes the movie worth seeing. It’ was filmed in black and white, but it works well here.

What A Place in the Sun is About

Theodore Dreiser wrote An American Tragedy in 1925 ,basing his novel on real life events. The story of romance, scandal and heartbreak was a perfect one for the big screen. Hollywood’s version was somewhat different, but  still largely based on the tragedy that  occurred in the early 1900s. All the characters were given different names.

George Eastman (Montgomery Clift) was a drifter who moved to a small town to work for his wealthy uncle Charles. George was raised in poverty, and had nothing in common with his affluent relatives, They treated him like an outcast. The only exception was Charles, whom George addressed as “Mr Eastman” rather than Uncle.

He was hired at first to do menial jobs. George began a fling with a shy young woman he met at work named Alice (Shelley Winters), even though dating was forbidden between co-workers. George desperately wanted to escape his dreary life and wished he could enjoy the same lifestyle that George and his family took for granted.

George’s life changed forever when he met a sweet and charming socialite, Angela Vickers (Elizabeth Taylor) at a party. The two became smitten with each other. George did not end his relationship with Alice, even though it obviously would have been the right thing to do. He didn’t  have the courage to break up with her, so he led a double life. Angela knew nothing about Alice, but Alice eventually found out about Angela.

Things got really complicated when George and Angela wanted to get married, and Alice announced she was pregnant. Alice was well aware that George did not love her, but she was determined to marry him anyway. Also by this time, George had impressed his Uncle enough to give him a big promotion at work. George was finally beginning to realize his dreams.  What lengths would he go to in order to remain with Angela, and be done with Alice?

http://www.spacial-anomaly.com/elizabeth-taylor-and-montgomery-clift-in-a-place-in-the-sun

A Place In The Sun - Trailer [1951]

A Place in the Sun -  Pool

[bigfan-fanfic]

Top 10 DC Characters?

In no particular order...

Bruce Wayne - Love him, rich and hot and generally nice, though his head gets stuck in his ass soooooo much. I have so much to say about him and to analyze. But like, if he needs a sugar baby who won't ask questions, I'm right here babe.

Silver St. Cloud - So, Silver St. Cloud was a blorbo of mine for a while when I first found out about her. She's an environmentalist and socialite, I believe, but what makes her relevant is that she dated Bruce Wayne for a while, and she, totally on her own, FIGURES OUT that he's Batman. Like, this is something that only people on par with Barbara Gordon and Tim Drake have figured out on their own. And she remarkably understands the logical drawbacks of being with a vigilante and she fuckin books it. She breaks up with Bruce, and doesn't reveal his secret. And Bruce like, for a while, rethinks his whole life because this one lady figured him out, down to the core, and said no, I don't want to be involved. I love her, and I want to see more of herrrrrrr. (In my own fanfic before tumblr, I made her the new owner of STAR Labs and responsible for releasing an ionizing wave that would be harmless to people but turns any Kryptonite on Earth into Kryptonium, a more-stable isotope that is non-lethal to Kryptonians and only weaken them)

Clark Kent - People tend to forget just how incredibly intelligent Clark is, and the fact that so many stories deal with "what would happen if Superman was EVIL?" just convinces me that so many people don't get him. Like, yeah, he's powerful, and he's moral, but every day he chooses to be a good person and not overstep and like, that's something so incredible. He's like, a god, but was raised human, and likes being human. He's Clark before he's Superman or even Kal-El.

Dick Grayson - He's hot, yes, but his true superpower is people-skills. He's so friendly and kind, just by nature, that he ends up having people willing to fight for him wherever he goes.

Barbara Gordon - Barbara is amazing, whether as Batgirl or as Oracle. I feel like often she gets placed to the side, but really she ends up being like, the perfect mission control for the whole League, imo. Though she gets treated like shit by the narrative very often.

Barry Allen - THE hot scientist with a heart of gold (usually). I like Barry a lot, and it seems like people tend to forget that he's actually super intelligent.

Alan Scott - Gay, an icon, and another Green Lantern not affiliated with the corps! Although he's got a weakness to the color green.

Pamela Isley - The particular awesomeness of Poison Ivy is that she's one of the most sympathetic of the extremists of Batman's rogue's gallery, so it makes sense why she's the one that so often appears as a hero - I like her character as an anti-hero much more than Harley Quinn

Siegfried - I know nothing about him other than he was a Wonder Woman love interest and he's incredibly, amazingly hot. I love him.

Kyle Rayner - He's the Green Lantern done right - he becomes the Lantern on his own, and is the first one imo to do the whole Willpower thing correctly - he's not completely fearless, he just has the willpower to move past his own fear. I like his ability to more creatively use the Lantern ring because he's an artist with an imagination and not yet another boring space cop. But then, of course, he ends up being part of the boring-ass space cop group.

[musemtr]

MEET LEONORA FLORATON

[ aubri ibrag + cisfemale + she/her ] dearest reader, i am delighted to introduce [ LEONARA FLORATON ]. they are [ TWENTY FOUR] and are known among mayfair as [ PATIENT AND WITTY ] but also as [ FEISTY AND STAND-OFFISH ].

( ayra, 21, she/her, indian, none. )

— INTRO ;

full name → leonora amarillide floraton current age → 24 based upon → the bridgerton television/bridgerton book series hobbies → gardening, playing harp, learning languages, visiting museums and art galleries occupation → professor for bachelors in botany. love status→ single

— APPEARANCE ;

faceclaim → aubri ibrag eye colour → hazel but looks green in the light. hair colour and style → dark brown and typically slicked back in a clutched half up half down style tattoos → small tattoos of flowers signifying her family on her left arm in birth order (geranium, dianthus, peony, narcissus) , a small branch with two tiny parrots just bellow her right collarbone and a branch with amaryllis flowers on her spine. scars → a few small ones across her body from thorns pr her parrots claws and one scar running up her calf from falling down a tree when she was younger. piercings → just her earlobes. dominant hand → ambidextrous. glasses → has glasses but prefers to wear contacts because someone once said she looks old in her glasses.

— TRAITS ;

+ve, determined, generous. resilient, -ve, snarky, materialistic, single-minded,

— RELATIONSHIPS ;

father → geranio floraton mother → anfisa floraton brother → lawrence narcisco floraton sister → leandra peonia floraton pet → two parrots named fern and Ibisco

— BIO ;

Leonora grew up in a rich socialite based in Italy, they probably had connections to the mafia but that is not something she is interested in discussing since it is not a laughing matter. As the middle child she had a level of freedom her siblings didn't and she made use of it completely. It wasn't like she was ignored but more that she didn't have the responsibilities, unlike her older sister who had to maintain a perfect image as the eldest daughter or her younger brother who had been trained since he was five to take care of the family business. If you asked anyone they would tell you about how her interest in plants has always been extensive, from climbing tall trees to look at what she assumed was a flower on top (it was a piece of a kite) to buying and finishing plant encyclopedias within hours. She currently works as a professor for bachelors because she just finished her masters and wanted to take the year off before starting her PhD, She is also an intern in a bio lab where she is working on a prominent research on how to grow plants naturally in unsuitable environments. Leonora has two parrots one of which, Ibisco she received as a gag gift fro her brother after her masters and the other she rescued from a tree where it was stuck in a wire, she loves them both dearly. All in all Leonora is pretty set in life and happy.

[perfectisgeorgette]

Light of my life, fire of my loins Be a good baby, do what I want Light of my life, fire of my loins Gimme them gold coins, gimme them coins

Birthday — Mar. 25 2000 Zodiac Sign — Aries Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Taurus Rising MBTI — ESFP Enneagram — Type 8 Primary Vice — Selfish Primary Virtue — Determined  Element — Fire 

Overview:

Mother — Denise Midler  Father — Thomas Midler  Mother’s Occupation — Socialite Father’s Occupation — Lawyer/Law Professor Columbia Family Finances — billionaires - white collar Birth Order — Only child Brothers —  N/A Sisters — N/A Other Close Family — Grandparents - John & Verneal Foxworth  Best Friend — Hannah Kennedy, her childhood best friend from primary school. They met on the play ground when Georgette bit her and then brought her a flower the next day. They no longer speak regularly - she has a family with a baby and Georgette is Georgette Other Friends — Georgette is not one to have many real friends yet unfortunately Enemies —  Her 'haters' and anyone who is selling stories about her Pets — none yet Home Life During Childhood — very loved but perfection and image were heavily important Town or City Name(s) — Manhattan, New York City What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Georgette had an entire wing of the families pent house. Open rooms with her bedroom in the center. White marble floors with gold accents. Floor to ceiling windows that looked out into the city. A walk in closet with shelves and shelves for all her accessories. Any Sports or Clubs — Junior League in High School. Alpha Phi sorority in College Favorite Toy or Game — loved to play dress up and play pretend Schooling — went to all girls private school in New York City. Instead of staying in the city for College like her parents wanted she went to University of Florida in Miami. Graduating early with Business and Government Degree Favorite Subject — American History Popular or Loner — In high school she was popular with her clique, in the pageant world she was always popular, and in college she was treated poorly her freshman year due to her lifestyle and reputation but eventually became an it girl. Important Experiences or Events — winning her first Mini Pageant showed her that she was truly special - never losing a pageant after. Not getting a bid to her first sorority of choice due to mean girls secluding her - but realizing she got into a better one. Nationality — American Culture — American - specifically New Yorker Religion and beliefs — undecided

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim —  Alix Earle Complexion — Spray Tanned, really bad acne that she gets treatments for - takes acutane Hair Colour — Naturally Blonde - with highlights Eye Colour — bright blue Height — 5’7” Build — Tall, slim, toned - with breast augmentation Tattoos — none as of now Piercings — Double on her ears Common Hairstyle — Long, loose waves, blown out twice a week - trying to not have extensions but loves the fuller look Clothing Style — anything trendy - lounge wear, classic looks, laid back fashion - unless she is dressing for an event. Always designer. Always the best quality. Mannerisms — judgey eyes and scrunched nose Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — cannot remember the last time she was sick Physical Ailments — nothing besides acne - it is very bad to include cystic if she is having a bad flare up Neurological Conditions — none Allergies —  none Grooming Habits — she has a rigorous skin care routine and cannot go a day without showering Sleeping Habits — either too much or too little Eating Habits — very concious of what she eats - but does love to go get snacks from the store - has used Ozempic to curb appetite Exercise Habits —  she works out daily - but that could be a hot girl walk outside or 2 hours at the gym. Really needs a trainer. Emotional Stability — very short fuse and her emotions can range from rage to love Sociability — Very outgoing and not afraid to talk to anyone just doesnt mean it will always be nice Addictions — Nah Drug Use — no thanks  Alcohol Use — vodka soda - minimal calories

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — impulsive, has a bit of a temper, reckless, tends to over romanticize everything and anything  Good Habits — very determined, tenacious, head strong, eloquent  Best Characteristic — she really has the ability to be a realistic girl with genuine content on social media if she just let down the perfection obsession Worst Characteristic — rude and perfectionist   Worst Memory — middle school when she realized she may be a Midler but she genetically had her grandmothers nose and had the work acne in the world - she couldnt go to school without comments being made. Self conscious she would pick at all bumps on her face leaving scars. Causing her mother to start treatments and medicine with harsh side effects to fix it Best Memory — when she won her first Junior Miss Pageant Proud of — her career, her lifestyle Embarrassed by — her body dismorphyia, her acne, and her natural self Driving Style — does not have her drivers license - one does not drive in NYC Strong Points — passionate, dedicated Attitude — Indifferent, bossy, friendly, fake Weakness — the mirror Fears — failure or being ugly  Phobias — nothing serious Secrets — her scandal - why she is in Swyn Lake  Regrets — that she was so insufferable - mostly that she was exposed Feels Vulnerable When - when someone truly sees her Pet Peeves — incompetence Conflicts — tbd  Motivation — to be the best of the best - to ascend in society without the looming scandal Short Term Goals and Hopes — for the scandal to die down, to make swyn lake her home, to find a place she can fit in Long Term Goals and Hopes — to find a man to fit her lifestyle, to return to influencer life, to be a judge at Miss America Sexuality — bicurious Day or Night Person — both Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert! Optimist or Pessimist — both  Greatest Want — lime light Greatest Need — acceptance

Likes and Styles:

Music — pop girlie. Books —fashion magazines - would never admit she reads fantasy romance books Foods —  soft pretzel with cheese! Any and all fruit, sushi, bagels with cream cheese, and chips! Drinks — iced coffee with splenda, diet coke, and iced water Animals — poodles and dolphins Sports —  College Football and NFL Social Issues — to the public she is indifferent Favorite Saying —dont you know who i am darling... Color — light purple and pink  Clothing — trendy, classic, high fashion Jewelry — wears a lot of rings and necklaces and earrings Games — will play wordl and sodoku on her phone TV Shows — RHONY, RHONJ, RHOM, RHOOC, RuPauls Drag Race, MTV The Challenge, and Gossip Girl  Movies — War Movies, Chick Flicks, and nostalgic animation

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — Mansion in The Woods Household furnishings — currently ordering new furniture for her new home Favorite Possession — her vanity Most Cherished Possession — locket she got from her parents when she was a little girl- with pictures of her mom and dad Neighborhood — The Woods Town or City Name — Swynlake Married Before — No Significant Other Before — a few boyfriends but they were never anything real - more for show Children —  None!  Relationship with Family — She is very close with her parents. Even though they are very busy and have very strict social lives and jobs she speaks with them daily. A daddys girl through and through. Car — n/s Career —  socialite Dream Career —  socialite - influencer Dream Life —  socialite with a husband who is ok with her lifestyle; owning a home in NY but traveling and starting a family maybe through surrogacy Love Life —  single and ready to mingle  Talents or Skills — very personable when being her true self, can sing and dance  Intelligence Level — very smart almost too smart but does not let it show Finances — trust fund baby

[weiyanchoo]

Week 9: Body Modification on Social Media

Nowadays, social media use, particularly when it is primarily driven by photo-based platforms such as Instagram, presents a vast number of images of perfect women with near-perfect bodies and faces. On social media, celebrities, models, fitness experts, and influencers frequently have millions of followers. They produce content to promote themselves and their products by promoting idealized beauty standards (Tiggemann 2022, p.173). This has a negative effect because it encourages people to compare themselves to one another, especially young women and girls, which encourages them to follow beauty trends for the sake of social acceptance. Aside from trying to conform to a beauty standard, some body modifications may be done for a variety of reasons, such as to signify membership in a group or to highlight a person's character traits or achievements (Bradley University 2023).  

The majority of the "idealized imagery" seen on social media has been digitally altered, or at the very least has had a filter applied, in which women digitally edited their original photos to remove eye bags and wrinkles, or to reshape their waists and legs (Tiggemann 2022, p.174).  Additionally, peer comparisons about appearance and self-image in teenagers have been brought on by social networking sites (SNSs) like Instagram and Facebook, so people are constantly looking for feedback through likes, comments, and followers to maintain a perfect and stable image of themselves. However, if they receive negative comments or feedback about their postings, it means that they need to improve their beauty standards, which will leave them dissatisfied with their physical bodies, have doubts about their self-worth, and drive them to self-harm behaviour. Kim and Khloe Kardashian, two well-known socialites, have come under fire from the media for allegedly using Photoshop to alter their Instagram selfies so they appeared slimmer and more toned (Henriques & Patnaik 2020).  

In conclusion, social media has significantly influenced how people perceive and cope with physical changes after viewing well-known Instagram and Pinterest handles. People need to be reminded that not everything they see on social media is real in order to address this problem, and that they should not be ashamed of their physical characteristics.

References

Bradley University 2023, Body Modification & Body Image, Bradley University, viewed 15 June 2023, <https://www.bradley.edu/sites/bodyproject/disability/modification/  

Henriques, M, Patnaik, D 2020, Social Media and Its Effects on Beauty, InTechOpen, viewed 15 June 2023, <https://www.intechopen.com/chapters/73271>  

Tiggemann, M 2022, ‘Digital modification and body image on social media: Disclaimer labels, captions, hashtags, and comments’, Body image, vol. 41, pp. 173–174.

[runli-guo]

Research Body Anxiety in Academic Area

Scholars have focused on how social media exacerbates women's body/look anxiety and further leads to self-objectification, self It is evident that women are anxious about the overly perfect 'feminine constructs' on the internet.

Instagram use and young women’s body image concerns and self-objectification: Testing meditational pathways

Women tend to compare their appearance with that of their peers and friends, (especially) internet celebrities and socialites

Such comparisons remove women's subjectivity and internalize a single "aesthetic standard", leading to "self-objectification"

The viewing of fitness images can exacerbate women's body dissatisfaction and have a negative psychological and emotional impact on them

Negative comparisons about one's appearance mediate the relationship between Facebook usage and body image concerns

Comparisons of looks commonly occur when women use social media

Women are more likely to compare themselves to peers or online celebrities (upward comparison)

the more they use Facebook, the more appearance comparisons they make and the more appearance/body anxiety they experience

‘Selfie’-objectification: The role of selfies in self-objectification and disordered eating in young women

1. Most women (53%) post selfies on social media, and most of them (63%) retouch them. 2. Excessive pre-posting of selfies - i.e. spending too much time taking, picturing or selecting photos, can increase self-doubt and reduce self-satisfaction 3. Excessive pre-posting of selfies can exacerbate eating disorder symptoms: women experience greater body control anxiety in order to maintain their 'ideal self'

Keywords

Self-objectification Also translated as self-objectification, it simply means 'to think of oneself as an object'. When a woman 'objectifies' herself, she loses the ability to love herself, she no longer acts from a self-interested perspective, and in severe cases, she exploits herself - for example, by going on a diet/cosmetic surgery binge (physical exploitation) or by becoming depressed (psychological exploitation).

Social Comparison Social media exacerbates appearance anxiety, mainly because it puts all peers in the same room, which creates serious peer competition and pressure.

References

Cohen, R., Newton-John, T., & Slater, A. (2018). “Selfie”- objectification: The role of selfies in self-objectification and disordered eating in young women. Computers in Human Behavior, 79, 68–74. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chb.2017.10.027

Fardouly, J., & Vartanian, L. R. (2015). Negative comparisons about one’s appearance mediate the relationship between Facebook usage and body image concerns. Body Image, 12(1), 82–88. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.bodyim.2014.10.004

Fardouly, J., Willburger, B. K., & Vartanian, L. R. (2018). Instagram use and young women’s body image concerns and self-objectification: Testing meditational pathways. New Media & Society, 20(4), 1380–1395. https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444817694499

[soulmate-game]

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

[nellygwyn]

I thought I would share some portraits/info about notable black men and women who worked and lived in Georgian Britain. This is not an extensive list by any means, and for some figures, portraits are unavailable:

1. Olaudah Equiano (1745-1797) was a writer, abolitionist and former slave. Born into what would become southern Nigeria, he was initially sold into slavery and taken to the Caribbean as a child, but would be sold at least twice more before he bought his freedom in 1766. He decided to settle in London and became involved in the British abolitionist movement in the 1780s. His first-hand account of the horrors of slavery 'The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano' was published in 1789 and it really drove home the horrors of slavery to the general British public. He also worked tirelessly to support freed slaves like himself who experienced racism and inequality living in Britain's cities. He was a leading member of the Sons of Africa, an abolitionist group, whose members were primarily freed black men (the Sons of Africa has been called the first black political organisation in British history). He married an English woman, Susannah, and when he died in 1797, he left his fortune of roughly £73,000 to his daughter, Joanna. Equiano's World is a great online resource for those interested in his life, his work, and his writings.

2. Ignatius Sancho (1729-1780) was a bit of a jack-of-all-trades (he's described as an actor, composer, writer, abolitionist, man-of-letters, and socialite - truly the perfect 18th century gentleman). He was born in the Middle Passage on a slave ship. His mother died not long after they arrived in Venezuela and his father apparently took his own life rather than become a slave. Sancho's owner gave the boy to three sisters living in London c. 1730s (presumably as a sort of pet/servant) but whilst living with them, his wit and intellect impressed the 2nd Duke of Montagu who decided to finance his education. This was the start of Sancho's literary and intellectual career and his association with the elite of London society saw him ascend. He struck up a correspondence with the writer, Laurence Sterne, in the 1760s: Sancho wrote to press Sterne to throw his intellecrual weight behind the cause of abolition. He became active in the early British abolitionist movement and be counted many well-known Georgians amongst his acquaintance. He was also the first black man known to have voted in a British election. He married a West Indian woman and in 1774, opened a grocer's shop in London, that attempted to sell goods that were not produced by slave labour. Despite his popularity in Georgian society, he still recounts many instances of racist abuse he faced on the streets of London in his diaries. He reflected that, although Britain was undoubtedly his home and he had done a lot for the country, he was 'only a lodger and hardly that' in London. His letters, which include discussions of domestic subjects as well as political issues, can be read here.

3. Francis 'Frank' Barber (1742-1801) was born a slave on a sugar plantation in Jamaica. His owner, Richard Bathurst, brought Frank to England when Frank turned 15 and decided to send him to school. The Bathursts knew the writer, Samuel Johnson, and this is how Barber and the famous writer first met (Barber briefly worked as Johnson's valet and found him an outspoken opponent of the slave trade). Richard Bathurst gave Frank his freedom when he died and Frank immediately signed up for the navy (where he apparently developed a taste for smoking pipes). In 1760, he returned permanently to England and decided to work as Samuel Johnson's servant. Johnson paid for Frank to have an expensive education and this meant Frank was able to help Johnson revise his most famous work, 'Dictionary of the English Language.' When Johnson died in 1784, he made Frank his residual heir, bequeathing him around £9000 a year (for which Johnson was criticised in the press - it was thought to be far too much), an expensive gold watch, and most of Johnson's books and papers. Johnson also encouraged Frank to move to Lichfield (where Johnson had been born) after he died: Frank duly did this and opened a draper's shop and a school with his new wife. There, he spent his time 'in fishing, cultivating a few potatoes, and a little reading' until his death in 1801. His descendants still live at a farm in Litchfield today. A biography of Frank can be purchased here. Moreover, here is a plaque erected on the railings outside of Samuel Johnson's house in Gough Square, London, to commemorate Johnson and Barber's friendship.

4. Dido Elizabeth Belle (1764-1801) was born to Maria Belle, a slave living in the West Indies. Her father was Sir John Lindsay, a British naval officer. After Dido's mother's death, Sir John took Dido to England and left her in the care of his uncle, Lord Mansfield. Dido was raised by Lord Mansfield and his wife alongside her cousin, Elizabeth Murray (the two became as close as sisters) and was, more or less, a member of the family. Mansfield was unfortunately criticised for the care and love he evidently felt for his niece - she was educated in most of the accomplishments expected of a young lady at the time, and in later life, she would use this education to act as Lord Mansfield's literary assistant. Mansfield was Lord Chief Justice of England during this period and, in 1772, it was he who ruled that slavery had no precedent in common law in England and had never been authorised. This was a significant win for the abolitionists, and was brought about no doubt in part because of Mansfield's closeness with his great-niece. Before Mansfield died in 1793, he reiterated Dido's freedom (and her right to be free) in his will and made her an heiress by leaving her an annuity. Here is a link to purchase Paula Byrne's biography of Dido, as well as a link to the film about her life (starring Gugu Mbatha-Raw as Dido).

5. Ottobah Cugoano (1757-sometime after 1791) was born in present-day Ghana and sold into slavery at the age of thirteen. He worked on a plantation in Grenada until 1772, when he was purchased by a British merchant who took him to England, freed him, and paid for his education. Ottobah was employed as a servant by the artists Maria and Richard Cosway in 1784, and his intellect and charisma appealed to their high-society friends. Along with Olaudah Equiano, Ottobah was one of the leading members of the Sons of Africa and a staunch abolitionist. In 1786, he was able to rescue Henry Devane, a free black man living in London who had been kidnapped with the intention of being returned to slavery in the West Indies. In 1787, Ottobah wrote 'Thoughts And Sentiments On The Evil & Wicked Traffic Of The Slavery & Commerce Of The Human Species,' attacking slavery from a moral and Christian stand-point. It became a key text in the British abolition movement, and Ottobah sent a copy to many of England's most influential people. You can read the text here.

6. Ann Duck (1717-1744) was a sex worker, thief and highwaywoman. Her father, John Duck, was black and a teacher of swordmanship in Cheam, Surrey. He married a white woman, Ann Brough, in London c. 1717. One of Ann's brothers, John, was a crew-member of the ill-fated HMS Wager and was apparently sold into slavery after the ship wrecked off the coast of Chile on account of his race. Ann, meanwhile, would be arrested and brought to trial at least nineteen times over the course of her lifetime for various crimes, including petty theft and highway robbery. She was an established member of the Black Boy Alley Gang in Clerkenwell by 1742, and also quite frequently engaged in sex work. In 1744, she was given a guilty verdict at the Old Bailey after being arrested for a robbery: her trial probably wasn't fair as a man named John Forfar was paid off for assisting in her arrest and punishment. She was hanged at Tyburn in 1744. Some have argued that her race appears to have been irrelevant and she experienced no prejudice, but I am inclined to disagree. You can read the transcript of one of Ann Duck's trials (one that resulted in a Not Guilty verdict) here. Also worth noting that Ann Duck is the inspiration behind the character Violet Cross in the TV show 'Harlots.'

7. Bill Richmond (1763-1829) was a prize winning bare-knuckle boxer of the late 18th and early 19th century. He was born a slave in New York (then part of British America) but moved permanently to England in 1777 where he was most likely freed and received an education. His career as a boxer really took of in the early 19th century, and he took on all the prize fighters of the time, including Tom Cribb and the African American fighter, Tom Molineaux. Richmond was a sporting hero, as well as fashionable in his style and incredibly intelligent, making him something of a celebrity and a pseudo-gentleman in his time. He also opened a boxing academy and gave boxing lessons to gentlemen and aristocrats. He would ultimately settle in York to apprentice as a cabinet-maker. Unfortunately, in Yorkshire, he was subject to a lot of racism and insults based on the fact he had married a white woman. You can watch a Channel 4 documentary on Richmond here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

8. William Davidson (1781-1820) was the illegitimate son of the Attorney General of Jamaica and a slave woman. He was sent to Glasgow in Scotland to study law at the age of 14 and from this period until 1819, he moved around Britain and had a number of careers. Following the Peterloo Massacre in 1819, Davidson began to take a serious interest in radical politics, joining several societies in order to read radical and republican texts. He also became a Spencean (radical political group) through his friendship with Arthur Thistlewood and would quickly rise to become a leading member of the group. In 1820, a government provocateur tricked Davidson and other Spenceans, into being drawn into a plot to kill the Earl of Harrowby and other government cabinet officers as they dined at Harrowby's house on the 23rd February. This plot would become known as the Cato Street Conspiracy (named thus because Davidson and the other Spenceans hid in a hayloft in Cato Street whilst they waited to launch their plan). Unfortunately, this was a government set up and eleven men, including Davidson, were arrested and charged with treason. Davidson was one of five of the conspirators to not have his sentence commuted to transportation and was instead sentenced to death. He was hanged and beheaded outside of Newgate Prison in 1820. There is a book about the Cato Street Conspiracy here.

9. Ukawsaw Gronniosaw (1705-1775) was born in the Kingdom of Bornu, now in modern day Nigeria. As the favourite grandson of the king of Zaara, he was a prince. Unfortunately, at the age of 15, he was sold into slavery, passing first to a Dutch captain, then to an American, and then finally to a Calvinist minister named Theodorus Frelinghuysen living in New Jersey. Frelinghuysen educated Gronniosaw and would eventually free him on his deathbed but Gronniosaw later recounted that when he had pleaded with Frelinghuysen to let him return to his family in Bornu, Frelinghuysen refused. Gronniosaw also remembered that he had attempted suicide in his depression. After being freed, Gronniosaw set his sights on travelling to Britain, mainly to meet others who shared his new-found Christian faith. He enlisted in the British army in the West Indies to raise money for his trip, and once he had obtained his discharge, he travelled to England, specifically Portsmouth. For most of his time in England, his financial situation was up and down and he would move from city to city depending on circumstances. He married an English weaver named Betty, and the pair were often helped out financially by Quakers. He began to write his life-story in early 1772 and it would be published later that year (under his adopted anglicised name, James Albert), the first ever work written by an African man to be published in Britain. It was an instant bestseller, no doubt contributing to a rising anti-slavery mood. He is buried in St Oswald's Church, Chester: his grave can still be visited today. His autobiography, A Narrative of the Most Remarkable Particulars in the Life of James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw, an African Prince, as Related by Himself, can be read here.

10. Mary Prince (1788-sometime after 1833) was born into slavery in Bermuda. She was passed between several owners, all of whom very severely mistreated her. Her final owner, John Adams Wood, took Mary to England in 1828, after she requested to be able to travel as the family's servant. Mary knew that it was illegal to transport slaves out of England and thus refused to accompany Adams Wood and his family back to the West Indies. Her main issue, however, was that her husband was still in Antigua: if she returned, she would be back in enslavement, but if she did not, she might never see her husband again. She contacted the Anti-Slavery Society who attempted to help her in any way they could. They found her work (so she could support herself), tried tirelessly to convince Adams Wood to free her, and petitioned parliament to bring her husband to England. Mary successfully remained in England but it is not known whether she was ever reunited with her husband. In 1831, Mary published The History of Mary Prince, an autobiographical account of her experiences as a slave and the first work written by a black woman to be published in England. Unlike other slave narratives, that had been popular and successful in stoking some anti-slavery sentiment, it is believed that Mary's narrative ultimately clinched the goal of convincing the general British population of the necessity of abolishing slavery. Liverpool's Museum of Slavery credits Mary as playing a crucial role in abolition. You can read her narrative here. It is an incredibly powerful read. Mary writes that hearing slavers talk about her and other men and women at a slave market in Bermuda 'felt like cayenne pepper into the fresh wounds of our hearts.'

[skiesofthesketchy]

Midsummers

Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook!reader

Summary: You drag a poor, unsuspecting stranger to be apart of your little scheme, but JJ doesn’t mind all that much. 

Note: Yoooooo how are you guys? This fic is dedicated to my bff @rafej-cambanks​ bc it is her birthday today!! Go send her some love! I figured this might be a nice lil surprise bc it is 1 of the maybe 2 unpublished fics that you haven’t read yet lol. Anyway, I love you SO MUCH and hope you like this :)

Still working on blurbs for my 1k celebration! Sit tight, they will be coming soon :)

Warnings: language, hella fluff, uhhhh yea Word Count: 4k

gif by @toesure​

***

Standing in front of the full-length mirror and gazing at your reflection, you couldn’t keep a straight face. The pretty emerald fabric of your dress adorned your figure perfectly, considering the thousands of dollars your mother spent on it plus having it tailored to fit you so. The hem fell to your ankles, showing off your expensive six inch heels and perfectly painted toenails. Your jewelry consisted of a simple diamond necklace and matching earrings, the sparkle adding to your already glowing complexion. You assumed your makeup would look cakey, but it actually looked quite flawless. That’s what you get when your mother hires a professional to do your makeup and hair for the most prestigious Kook party of the year.

Midsummers. Tonight was the night every Kook family planned for months beforehand, and then talked about the months following after. The party where rich socialites gather to brag about their wealth and successes over lobster and expensive champagne, playing fake nice to uphold their own powerful and pleasant reputations. You hated Midsummers with every fiber of your being, but alas, it was the one event you couldn’t get out of, and you had to attend. 

You bubbled with laughter as you gazed at your appearance, hardly looking like yourself at all. A silly flower crown in your hair and an elegant dress that could probably pay for a trip to Europe. “So this is the daughter my parents have always wanted,” you sighed, coming out of your laughing fit. 

Your parents never really understood you. All they ever wanted was for you to be their perfect princess, hanging out with other Kooks, going shopping, finding a suitable boyfriend from a wealthy family, you know, the whole shabang. And of course, keeping your grades up at the academy so that you can one day work for your father’s multi-million dollar company. It was what all Kooks expect from their kids, but you weren’t about that lifestyle.

Sure, you were grateful for your comfy upbringing, but you couldn’t care less about any of that stuff. You just wanted to have fun, travel the world, figure out who you are. You’d jump off a cliff before you had to be tied down to this boring, money-obsessed world that your parents live in. 

With a quick wink to your alter-ego in the mirror, you sauntered out of the large bathroom, your heels clacking on the white marble floors. You made your way to the extravagant lobby area of the Island Club, staying close to the wall in order to not be noticed. Your parents were thankfully already at the party outside, but there was still someone you were trying to avoid: the pathetic boy your parents had set you up with. 

He really wasn’t that bad, just boring like every other Kook boy your age. Only caring about parties, drugs, and tormenting the Pogues on the island. According to your parents though, he was a “suitable young man” because his parents were wealthy and respected on Figure Eight. 

You spotted your date, Topper Thornton, leisurely scrolling on his phone, his other hand in his pocket. He was waiting for you so that you two could walk down the glorious staircase into the party together. It was tradition for ladies to be escorted down the steps, which is exactly why your mother took finding an escort for you into her own hands. The stupid tradition made you gag. You didn’t need a pretty boy to escort you into a lame-ass party, and that’s why you were hiding from him.

With Topper’s gaze fixed on his phone, you took this opportunity to slip through the large room and onto the balcony, the party happening just down the stairs. With a sigh, you started your descent down the staircase, taking in the scene in front of you. There were pretty lights hung up around the huge tent covering the dining area. People were dressed to the nines, champagne flutes in hand as they giggled and chatted to one another. The live band played classy music while some couples danced, and staff members ran around serving drinks to the attendees. 

Casually walking down the last few steps, that’s when you noticed your parents watching you, and you grinned brightly at them. You knew ditching your date for the grand entrance would piss them off, which is mostly why you did it, and it was confirmed by the sour expressions on their faces.

“Mom. Dad. You guys look great!” you smiled. Your mother only scowled in response. 

“Y/N! What on earth are you doing? Where’s the Thornton boy?” She spoke through her perfect teeth clenched in a fake smile, trying not to draw attention from others. 

You shrugged. “I dunno. Great party though,” you said nonchalantly as your eyes wandered, obviously not bothered by the disappointing looks your parents were giving you. 

“You know your mother wanted you to walk in on a man’s arm,” your dad said. He was trying to console your mom by rubbing her back soothingly. She was not taking this well, her chest rising and falling rapidly in anger. She wanted to yell at you, but wouldn’t dare to make a scene with all of these people around. 

You rolled your eyes. “Why do I have to be escorted by some boy? That tradition is dumb, and sexist, quite frankly.” 

“Y/N, you’re embarrassing us!” your mom whisper-yelled. Her eyes were wide and her lips twisted in displeasure. She’s more pissed than you thought she’d be, and you smiled. “You couldn’t have done this one thing for us? Why can’t you go one night without embarrassing your family?”

“You’re being dramatic,” you sighed. You loved pushing their buttons. They have to figure out you don’t want to live in this Kook bubble for the rest of your life sooner or later. It sucks that they aren’t accepting of who you are and only want you to be their little Kook Princess, but that has never kept you down for long. 

“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” your dad warned in a low voice. You scoffed.

“Tell me why you ditched your date,” your mom whispered, the anger still apparent even with how quietly she spoke. 

“I ditched him because I already have a boyfriend, Mom.” You didn’t really have a boyfriend, but the lie rolled off your tongue easily. Lying to your parents was something you did quite often, and not just to get away with the stupid shit you do sometimes. It was fun to mess with them. They get so upset over silly things, especially your mom. 

A smirk found its way to your mother's face, and you knew she didn’t buy it. “Oh yeah? Then where is he?” You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of catching you in your lie, especially if it meant she’d make you walk back up those damn steps just to retrieve Topper and do the whole entrance all over again. 

You were already disinterested in this conversation, but you couldn’t just walk away now. Your eyes wandered the party briefly, and that’s when you spotted a waiter heading in your direction. He didn’t seem too busy at the moment, no drinks or plates of food in hand, so the gears in your head started turning. Before you could even second guess your plan, you were stopping the boy’s strides by grabbing his hand and dragging him to the spot next to you in front of your parents.

“Right here,” you said. “Mom. Dad. Meet my boyfriend.” An innocent smile graced your lips as you stared at your parents, awaiting their reactions. You were happy to see surprise and displeasure taking over their features, and the blonde boy next to you looked just the same. You ignored him though and the way he turned to you with confusion dancing in his eyes. You didn’t even care if the stranger went along with it. Even if he walked off and this all blew up in your face, the shock on your mom’s face right now has already made it worth it. You found it all fucking hilarious.

Registering the silence and how nobody seemed to know what to do, you turned your smiling face towards the boy, squeezing his hand in yours and trying not to laugh at this whole situation. You finally noticed his beautiful blue eyes and the way they seemed to ask you what the hell is going on. You shot him a wink, and after quickly scanning your face, something in him seemed to change.

“Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. It’s so great to finally meet you.” The boy had turned his attention back to your parents, and reached to shake your father’s hand. You couldn’t help the happiness that swelled up inside of you. He’s actually going along with your idiotic plan to piss your parents off even more.

Your other hand came up to rest on the boy’s bicep as you watched him shake your dad’s hand. Your dad couldn’t form words as he looked at the waiter you clung to. Your mom had plastered on one of her brilliant fake smiles after a few seconds, and nodded her head in acknowledgement. 

This was almost too good to be true. You didn’t know the boy standing next to you, but considering he was part of the staff, he had to be a Pogue. Your parents never allowed you to hang out with Pogues before, so you could only imagine their fury after learning you were dating one. You only caught a quick glance at the blonde, but you noticed the bruises on his face and the cut on his lip. You didn’t know his story, but you knew your parents only saw him as a trouble-making Pogue, and his beat up face only made it better. Not to mention you were in the middle of the biggest party of the year. Your parents wouldn’t dare do anything to make a scene, not here. Sure, you’d be getting an earful at home later, but you were already basking in the pleasure of seeing them so utterly angry and not being able to show it.

“And what’s your name, young man?” your dad asked. 

“JJ Maybank, sir.” You turned your gaze to the boy again, and he smiled charmingly at your parents. “I’ve heard lots about you both, from your lovely daughter here.” He suddenly turned to face you again, the same cute smile on his lips, and released your hand to instead wrap his arm around your waist. Fuck, he’s doing a great job at playing along even though you dragged him into this mess that he had no business being in. You were loving every second of this. 

The way your mom was struggling to keep her calm composure had laughter bubbling in your chest, but you kept your lips shut tight to hold it in. “JJ,” she said through clenched teeth. “Are you working the party?” As polite as she was trying to be, her distasteful glance at his work attire didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. 

JJ wasn’t disheartened by her question, and only smiled bigger. “Yes ma’am, I work at the Island Club for such events. I also deliver groceries and mow lawns. But don’t worry. I still make plenty of time to take Y/N out on dates and treat her like the princess she is.” You found his gaze once again, and you swear you could kiss him. He’s really milking this whole encounter with your parents and you promised yourself to thank him later. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” your dad responded for your mother. She was practically seething underneath that perfect mask of hers, but your father looked quite uncomfortable as well. And here you thought Midsummers would be boring. 

You listened in on the awkward conversation a few minutes more before you spoke up. “I’m glad you guys finally met, but we’re gonna go now. Enjoy the party!” You grinned one last time at your parents before grabbing JJ’s hand and dragging him away, leaving them to simmer in their shock and anger without you.

You had made it all the way to the other side of the dance floor before you burst out laughing. Giggles poured out of you loudly, and JJ couldn’t help but join in. You didn’t even care how awkward that whole situation was, you found it absolutely hilarious and you were happy to see that JJ seemed to think so too. “Thanks for playing along with that, man,” you smiled. “I totally owe you.”

JJ Maybank was confused to say the least. He caught on to your little plan and used his superb improv skills to play along, but he didn’t really know why. He’d never met you before, and couldn’t possibly figure out why you would claim him as your boyfriend. And though you two had never met, he knew exactly who you were. Everyone did. You were Y/N Y/L/N. Your parents were among the richest Kooks on the whole island, and you were their perfect Kook Princess. Why on earth would you ever tell them that he was your boyfriend? He was a low-life Pogue. None of it made any sense. 

He wanted to ask you for an explanation, but he was too caught up in the moment with you. He had never seen you up close before, and had to admit he found you intriguingly beautiful. Your eyes gleaming as your whole face lit up, your dress showing off your nice figure and complimenting you perfectly, even the giggles escaping your lips screamed beauty. He had his mind made up about you, thinking you’re no different than every other rich girl on the island, but now he’s not so sure. From the moment you abruptly grabbed his hand, he could tell you didn’t give a fuck about anything. You seemed fun.

“Do you always try to freak your parents out like that?” he asked with a laugh. 

You chuckled too with a nod. “Yeah. They’re too comfy in their dumb Kook lifestyle, so I like to scare them every once in a while.” You looked up at him with your pretty smile, and he could only smile back. Your words suddenly made him like being in your presence a whole lot more. 

He watched as you messed with your flower crown, the flowers getting caught in your hair as you unceremoniously pulled it off of your head. “Stupid fucking flower crown...” you mumbled before tossing it off to the side on the ground. JJ laughed at your messed up hair, but reached his hands up to fix it for you. You couldn’t care less about what you looked like, which he found odd about you, but you enjoyed the feeling of his fingers running through your hair, patting down the wild strands. 

You took this opportunity to really look at him. His blonde hair was messy and the locks fell over his forehead. The bruises marking his face did little to hide how attractive he was, the cut on his lip seemed to make him even more attractive to you. Even his work uniform was tattered and wrinkled, but he still managed to look good in it. He finished messing with your hair and tucked a strand behind your ear, eyes meeting yours, and neither of you could hide your curious smiles. “Thanks,” you hummed. He only nodded in response.

Your eyes wandered as you tried to figure out what to say, but you caught sight of Topper bounding down the staircase, his gaze searching through the party, probably for you. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing JJ’s shoulders and positioning him in front of you. You stepped closer to him as you peaked your head over his shoulder to keep your eyes on the Kook you ditched.

“Hiding from someone?” JJ asked, looking down at you with amusement. 

You nodded. “Just the guy my parents tried to set me up with. I may or may not have ditched him,” you laughed sheepishly. Maybe you should’ve felt bad, but you didn’t.

JJ spared a glance over his shoulder. “Which one of these unlucky bastards was it?” 

You giggled, still trying to hide your frame completely behind JJ. “Topper Thornton. Frosted Tips. Looks like a lost puppy.”

JJ laughed and you could practically feel the warm vibrations from his chest. His pretty eyes met yours again, and he surprised you by wrapping his arm around your waist while his other hand found yours, bringing the pair of you into a waltz position. A smile tugged on your lips as you placed your other hand on his broad shoulder, and you both began to sway. 

JJ never pictured himself in this position before. Slow dancing with you, the Kook Princess of all people, at the Kookiest party of the year no less. He felt a strange sense of pride knowing that you had ditched Topper and are instead dancing with him. Being this close to you, he found himself trying to memorize your features, the color of your eyes, the softness of your hand in his, and the enticing curve of your waist which he had the pleasure of holding onto. 

“So,” JJ spoke softly. “What do you normally do when you’re not attending fancy parties and pissing off your parents?” He didn’t know why, but he wanted to find out more about you. You’re already quite different than what he made you out to be.

“Getting into more trouble,” you responded with a wink. 

He chuckled. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

You shrugged. “Last month, I ran off to Cuba for a week without telling anyone.” You didn’t think it was a big deal, but you noticed the waves of surprise in JJ’s eyes. You giggled at his expression. “What about you? When you’re not serving drinks, delivering groceries, or mowing lawns,” you paused to admire the bruises on his face. “What do you do?”

“Get into trouble,” he laughed, shooting your words back at you. 

You played along. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You don’t know when it happened, but you realized now that you guys were closer than before. Your chest was pressed into his, and his face was so close you could kiss him with the slightest lift onto your toes. 

“Picking fights with your Kooky friends, usually,” he chuckled. 

“If you’re referring to Topper and his goons, we’re not friends.” JJ’s lips lifted into a small smile at your words. If he wasn’t mistaken, you were about as fond of those assholes as he was. 

You both were just staring at each other, choosing to put the small talk to rest and just enjoy the moment. JJ’s eyes never left yours as you brought both of your arms around his neck, leaving him to wrap his arms around your back, diminishing any space there was between your bodies. You thought he might’ve kissed you with the way his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, but he didn’t. Instead, his hands found yours and he spun you around so that your back was against him, your arms crossed over your body as you continued to sway. 

His lips hovered over your neck briefly, and you released a sigh, trying to remember the last time you felt so close to someone, so content and in the moment. Something about the boy holding you in his arms gave you butterflies, that warm and exciting feeling spreading through your veins. He suddenly released one of your hands and pushed you so that you were spinning away from him, but then caught you and pulled you back.

You giggled as he twirled you around the dance floor, pleasantly surprised at how good of a dancer he was. Staying hidden from Topper wasn’t even on your mind anymore. With his grip on both of your hands, you both spun around, making the other dancing patrons have to move out of the way. Your laugh bubbled louder, and you couldn’t care less about the other guests. JJ found himself laughing along with you, even though part of him still wondered why he was here, dancing and having fun with you. 

After a moment, he pulled you back against him and you both fought to catch your breaths while the laughter died down. He admired your features again, and the question he’s been dying to ask finally escaped passed his lips. “How come you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me?” He didn’t mean it to sound so insecure, he was rather genuinely curious.

Your brows furrowed slightly in confusion, your grin turning into a frown. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

He scoffed lightly. “Come on, Y/N. We’re from two different worlds.” His eyes wandered for a second, noticing the amount of eyes on the two of you, probably floored at the scene you guys had just made. “Everyone is watching. The Kook Princess dancing with a Pogue...” He didn’t mean to bring down the mood, but he couldn’t help it. He was used to being dismissed, used to being viewed as a disgusting Pogue that only got into trouble. 

You brought your hands up to brush his hair away from his face, your bright smile returning. Your hands then cupped his cheeks, your thumb gently brushing over his split lip. “I don’t give a fuck about these people.” JJ chuckled, feeling his spirits lift once again. Your fingers dragged down his neck and landed on his collar, which you straightened for him. 

“You know,” you started, eyes fixed on the buttons of his white shirt. “I expected tonight to be the absolute worst, but I’m actually having an amazing time.” You peered up at him through your lashes, and JJ smiled. 

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, his usual flirty persona returning. “And why is that?”

You giggled, deciding to humor him. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my handsome fake boyfriend has some damn good dance moves,” you winked. Your chest became warm at the sound of JJ’s deep chuckle, his breath fanning over your face.

Among the many judgy looks the pair of you were getting, your parents were also watching from a nearby table. JJ noticed their burning glares, and an idea popped into his head. Gazing into your pretty eyes, he smirked with a nod of his head to the side. When you glanced over and was greeted with the sight of your very angry parents, a grin creeped onto your face. You were making quite the spectacle, but really, who cares? “Want to give them something to be really pissed about?” JJ asked.

You looked at him curiously, but nodded nonetheless. You were already thrilled with how the night was going, and wondered what else he could possibly have up his sleeve. He leaned forward and suddenly, his lips were on yours. Your surprise was soon washed away and you allowed yourself to melt into the kiss, arching your back to press your chest into him. 

His hand rested on the back of your neck, pulling you in even closer as you both indulged in one another. His other large hand squeezed your hip, and you squealed softly against his lips. After a few more seconds, you pulled away from each other, gleaming smiles on your faces. Yeah, that sure made your parents fucking livid. Your mother had excused herself from the table they were sitting at, and your father followed after her, but you weren’t paying attention to them. 

JJ had rested his palms on your cheeks, just looking at you, and he knew then that he wouldn’t be able to get you off of his mind no matter how hard he tried. Your hands gripped his wrists, and you felt sad for a moment, thinking about how JJ probably needs to get back to work. He needs to get back to his life, and you need to get back to yours. “I’ll see you around, JJ?” You held your breath, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him.

He kissed you once more, short and sweet, before pulling away again with a smirk. “Definitely.” And with that, he made his way back through the party and into the building while you watched, not being able to hide your giddy grin.

***

Pls let me know what you think :) love you all

Masterlist

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Obx tags: @sportygal55​ @jazbarnes05 @lovelogan @lannxyz @caseyabel28 @falling-perfectly @thisismynerdyself @mattelblake @justanotherbooklover @hemmingsness @queenofthepouges @dontjinx-it @pink-meringues @outerbnx-stiles @little-miss-rebel3  @shreckluver7​

JJ tags:  @kaylinfayezink​ @unfortunatekiwitrash​ @shy-1234​ @bijleegiregi​ @cheshirecat107​ @yami5525​  @folkloverr​ @dracoswhore007​

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

Two 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags:  neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, coworker!hyunjin, florist!jisung, punk!jisung (yeah boiiii), agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food, passive body shaming 

Word count: 5.5k (y e e t we love self indulgence) 

Tagging: @lauraneuuh​

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO | THREE

busybody noun 

:an officious or inquisitive person. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There are a couple things that your mother is known for--or rather, a couple things that she has been deemed. 

Mother, wife, friend, matriarch, socialite, unofficial event planner, gossip, show off, professional nagger, and, to certain people, bitch. 

And yet, somehow your mother was intertwined with some of the most prominent circles within the city, and she knew everything about everyone’s business. Frankly, she often didn’t have anything better to to with her time. ” If she had any job at all, it would be calling you every weekend to give her opinions on your rather “less than auspicious” life choices. 

To her, another one of your “less than auspicious” life choices had to do with the way that you had dressed yourself; however little sense this made. 

Your mother sipped at her tea with dainty fingers, barely cracking with age due to her expensive hand creams. 

“Quickly. Go get changed. We don’t have much more time and you’re dallying. It should fit you, just as long as you haven’t put on any more weight.” Her hawk-like gaze inspected your hips and thighs. “Hmm. I think you’ll be fine.” 

Seungmin, where he sat on the couch with perfect posture tapped his feet up and down with discomfort. 

I hate you for doing this to me, he glared at you with despair, hiding it behind the wide smile he performed for your mother. 

“What? Do you not trust me to be alone with your friend here?” 

Your best friend nervously chuckled out in that little puppy-like way that he would. “What? Ahh no, I’ll be fine, go on Y/n, I should be leaving soon anyway, I was just stopping by.” 

Your mother’s eyes followed you up your staircase, watching for the very moment that you closed your bedroom door. The second you did, her snide voice hissed out loud whispers, undoubtedly drilling Seungmin about the usual questions: are you married, where do you live, what’s your profession, what does your family do etc. 

The little metal zipper of the pencil skirt pinched your fingertips as you attacked it up your body. Once again, your mother had underestimated your clothing size. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes looking at the tags for the designer matching skirt and blazer ensemble. There was nothing in your mother’s life that didn’t denote the status that she “worked so hard for.” 

In a way, you hated that you had done this to Seungmin as well. Initially you had thought that having some kind of male presence over when your mother arrived would deter her stabbing remarks about your singledom, but in fact, it has just made it worse. For once in your life, you just wanted to hold something over her. Now, you’d likely traumatized the best friend that you had. 

You nearly slipped on the carpeted stairs in your nylon stockings on the way down, but held fast the the banister, looking a bit like some kind of sad, business-casual, plastic-looking prom queen. 

Seungmin’s eyes widened seeing you in the toning skirt. Likely you knew that he must’ve been keeping his jokes to himself the very best that he could--you wouldn’t hear the end of it later. 

“Wonderful. Let’s get going.” Your mother set down her teacup with a clink. “I’ve got some cosmetics in the car that you can use as well. We’ll be stopping off at the flower shop before we get to the venue. I’ve ordered an arrangement for the bride-to-be.” 

“I feel like a China doll.” You muttered under your breath, catching a little laugh from your friend. Your eyes met as if to ask him if he was okay, which he rolled his eyes as his answer. 

You put on the only pair of kitten heels that you owned: they were brown, banged up and the pleather was cracking a little at the edges. Of course, your mother let out an exasperated sigh upon seeing them. 

“I’ll bring shoes next time.” 

Seungmin politely opened the door for the both of you and the spring morning’s sun washed your face in it’s warmth. The morning was perfect: the exact kind of day that you would spend in your garden writing or reading on the single-person porch swing you had just installed. Dew still held to the Kelly green blades of grass and your cherry blossom tree bowed a little in the breeze. 

“Well, it was nice meeting and speaking with you Seungmin--” 

“--We’ve met before thou--” 

“--You seem to be a strapping and organized young man. I do hope that you consider what we discussed.” 

Seungmin appeared to flush a little, “I-I’ll think about it.” 

You tugged at your friend’s shirt, pulling him in to whisper, “What the hell did she talk to you about?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes fluttered around nervously. “She just kept going on about how she wanted me to--”  

“--Oh, Y/n!” 

From your mother’s surprised expression on the other side of the car, to the way that Seungmin stopped dead in his sentence, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to. 

Your body turned around in slow-motion, hoping that this must have been some kind of nightmare, and that you hadn’t woken up that morning yet and were cozily still tucked in bed. 

If it would have been socially acceptable, you would have hidden behind that car until he walked away, but it was too late considering he already knew you were there. 

Your mother let out some kind of ungodly squeal before rushing towards Minho and taking his hand in hers to shake. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I take it that you know my daughter? And who might you be, such a handsome man as yourself???” 

You really did contemplate hiding behind that car. 

It was unfair how you had to run him into at a time when he looked like that. Your mother was nearly eating him with her eyes while Minho looked to you in his confusion. 

Of course when your mother had to see him, he was fresh off of his morning run: white cotton sleeveless shirt, running joggers, a thick headband with sweat dripping down his body in rivets from his forehead to the curves of his toned arms. 

Life was just too fucking unfair.  

“Minho!” Internally, you crawled so far into yourself it was like you were barely there. You squeaked out the words coupled with a poorly-timed voice crack, “I didn’t plan on seeing YOu here!” 

“Minho?!” Seungmin echoed your phrase, grabbing onto your arm with force. 

“Uh, hello, nice to meet you I’m Lee Minho. And yes, I do know Y/n, I actually live a couple doors down--” 

“--A neighbor! How wonderful! I know she doesn’t leave the house that much, but I’m so glad that the two of you have met. Do you live your family..? Or...your wife...?” 

He smiled warmly, polite as always, “No Ma’am, I’m not married, I live with my mother.” 

“Your mother? Well, that’s very honorable.” 

You and your best friend locked eyes upon hearing the answer to the question that both of you had been silently wondering. 

With a little eyebrow raised, he gave you a smirk, before braiding his hand through his locks strung with sweat. “I also live with my cats too.” 

“Cats?” Your mother tried her best to hide the distaste in her mouth. “That’s...honorable as well. Taking care of animals is...hm, well, Y/n get in the car, time is ticking!!” 

Your mother’s shrill voice was clipped by the sound of the car door closing behind her. You and your best friend choked in silent laughter together. 

“Are you sure I don’t look ridiculous?” You patted down your itchy grey blazer. 

Seungmin nodded, “Do you want me to tell you the truth? Not your colors. But, you’ll just have to live with it.” 

“I think that you look nice.” Minho’s compliment melted into your skin like honey. “But I agree, the colors don’t work the best. Sorry.” 

“Oh. Thank you...” Your cheeks warmed, “Sorry! God, I’m-this is Seungmin, my-my friend Seungmin, sorry I didn’t introduce you both, my head is just--” 

“--Nice to meet you. Finally.” Seungmin’s expression turned a bit more stoic, a stark contrast to his softer features. 

“Nice to meet you as well.” 

“Okayyyy, well, I’ll just...get going then. See you both...later.” 

Seungmin slammed the door behind you, leaving you with your huffing mother in the car. 

“All of these handsome men around you and you can’t lock down one? I can’t believe you...” She threw her makeup bag on your lap. “I’ll play matchmaker if you want me to, I don’t mind, but you know that I have a lot going on already--” 

“--Haven’t you already started? Don’t pretend like you didn’t tell Seungmin something. Seungmin is my friend, mom.” 

“I just don’t get you. Aren’t you ever a bit sad that you don’t get invited to things like this since you have no female friends...?” 

“Honestly? I don’t really care--” 

“--You should. Thank God that you have me.” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The front windows to the floral shop winked in the morning sun and the gold lettering of the signage glistened with a similar glow. On the display, there were several dozens of different types of flowers all arranged into different glass vases, tied with bows or swaddled in burlap. The arrangements of roses, chrysanthemums, peonies, daises, sunflowers and other wildflowers appeared to be freshly cut, and beaded with water droplets. 

“Here. Take my card. If any of them seem to be brown at all, tell them that you won’t pay until they fix it.” 

You took the little plastic card from her red painted nails. “Will do.” 

There was a little bell hung over the shop door, and it tinkled when you entered like fairy chimes. The entire place seemed a little magical: the kind of place that you would find yourself reiterating in your writings. On the marble tiled floors, flecks of dirt seemed to gather in the grout. 

The golden brass counter stretched on for nearly the whole length of the shop, and held a display case which doubled as a cooler holding smaller things like corsages and boutonnières. 

“Can I help you?” 

The man approached you wiping the dirt off of his hands onto his canvas apron which was stained with smudges of green and brown. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the tattoos adorning his arms in beautiful patterns of black with muted colors of yellow, lavender and pink. They were nearly all floral in design and reminded you of the drawings from a botany book. His shaggy dark hair had a bit of a curl to it that tasseled over his eyes. His smile too was devastatingly charming, decorating it was a black hooped lip ring. 

“Here to pick up an order?” 

“Y-yes, for L/n.” 

“I just finished that one up, lucky for you.” He palmed through the little stack of receipts near the register. “I’ll go get it real quick.” 

It was criminal how fast you found your heart beating after hearing how strikingly soothing his voice had sounded. You also found your head spinning over how familiar he seemed, like someone you had met before, but couldn’t place where. 

He had brought the sizeable arrangement over, and upon seeing it, you knew that your mother must’ve asked them to pull out all the works. Not only were flowers like this a bit of an unusual bridal shower gift, but it was just one more way for her to show off. The moment that the two of you would arrive with that, heads would turn, and that was exactly what she wanted. It was so large, you had to crane a little to see the florist behind it. 

“That’ll be 360.” 

Never had you been more thankful to pay for a gift with someone else’s money. 

When you passed him the card, you noted the little scrapes up and down his hands and forearms, looking a bit like cat scratches.

“It’s the roses.” He chuckled. “This job is a lot more dangerous than you would think.” 

“Oh.” A heat in your cheeks rose along with his observation of you. 

“Beautiful day isn’t it?” He tapped at the register, then nodded to the sunlight streamlining in from the windows. There were little rainbows speckling the store from the prisms hung above the displays. 

“I-it really is.” 

Your eyes wandered to his nametag which looked like he had decorated with hand-drawn stars. Jisung. Once again, he caught your eyes, slyly rolling his tongue over that black hoop. 

“It’s the kind of day that makes me wish I wasn’t cooped up in here and doing something else; going somewhere else. You seen the cherry blossoms yet?” 

“I-I have one in my yard.” 

“Oh really? It’s my favorite time of year because of them.” 

His smile was a bit in the shape of a heart, and the way that his eyes smiled along with it was just as charming as the rest of him. 

Blaze. 

He was Blaze. 

Quite literally, never in your life could you have said that you had felt your heart skip a beat, but, you imagined that there’s a first time for everything. 

He scribbled down something down on the receipt, handing you both the card and the slip. 

“Have a good one, ‘kay?” 

Had it been socially acceptable, you would have slapped yourself square in the face, right then and there, to snap yourself out of your awe. 

“Yo-you as well.” 

It was a miracle you didn’t drop that expensive-ass floral arrangement getting out of there as fast as you did. 

“What took you so long? People will start wondering where we are.” 

Your mother said a couple more chastising remarks, but they faded away once you looked at the crinkled piece of paper on your hand: 

I hope to see you again, Blossom. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“Y/n!!! Oh my god, I am so happy to see you. I’ve been decaying, simply drying out in this office all by myself.” 

You swatted your melodramatic friend by the backside of his head, subsequently ruffling up his perfectly primped long, blond hair. 

“Shut up. You’re surviving just fine without me.” 

Hyunjin lowered his voice into a rather loud whisper, “Everyone here is just so boring.” 

“I don’t know what you’re expecting ‘Jin. It’s a publishing company, all we do is read here. You kind of did it to yourself too. Hell, you edit the children’s books!! You don’t have a thing to complain about.” 

“Are you sure that you can’t take an office here? We could eat lunch together, make coffee together from that broken-ass coffee machine, and bitch about Mr. Yoon together. By the way, what are you doing here anyway besides not seeing me?” 

“Picking up a couple manuscripts. I finished the ones from before.” 

“You’re inhuman. I don’t know how you get through 300+ pages over a weekend.” 

You shrugged, “It’s just what I like to do, that’s all. And, no, I will not be taking an office here, not when I have my classes too.” 

“Aren’t you the perfect symbol of adulthood.” Hyunjin pulled up for you the creaky plastic office chair from the empty desk next to his.

“Tell that to my mother, I think she’d have a different oponion.” 

“Screw your mother--and you can tell her that I said that too.” Your coworker fiddled with his white collar, pulling it from his neck. You knew how much he hated those and would have much rather preferred the silky low-cut ones which had become his trademark. 

“If only it were that easy.” 

“How’s Princess Bomi doing?” 

“My cat or the story?” 

“I was talking about the story, but sure, tell me about your cat too.” 

Hyunjin was a sarcastic little shit, but that was why you loved him. Seungmin tended to be the same sometimes--you surmised that perhaps you made the same type of people gravitate towards you. 

“It’s been pretty well received actually, and I think I’m just about done with the first book, there’s probably only a few chapters left. I just passed 8,000 reads.” 

“Wow, that’s actually...really impressive. I mean it.” 

When he wasn’t being a sarcastic little shit, Hyunjin was actually a genuine friend. He had been supportive of your writing ever since he forced the information out of you a few months ago after seeing a your chaotic notes mixed in with your manuscript ones. Of course, he had laughed at the prospect of you naming your main character after your cat, but he understood otherwise. 

“You’ve been getting good feedback?” 

“Mmhm! They really like Bomi as a character, that, and it seems like Blaze has some fans too...” 

Upon saying the same, the boy from the flower shop sneakily crept back into your head along with that stupidly Blaze-like smile of his--or at least, the smile that you had always pictured Blaze to have. 

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Earth to Y/n? Where did you go?” 

“Huh? Oh sorry, I think I just got...lost in thought.” 

“I said I think that you should really consider brining it to the company. What if they want to publish it? I think that it’s worth a shot. You said yourself that its successful online. What makes you think that people wouldn’t be interested in the print version?”

“I--Hyunjin, Princess Bomi is kind of a personal thing...” 

“--Why do I even bother!” In his mock disgust, Hyunjin crossed his flabbergast arms against his chest. “I’m only trying to give you a helpful suggestion.” 

Above the two of you, the florescent white lights bore down on you with a harsh luminescence. 

“But--” You shyly picked at the hem of your blouse, “I could use your help with something else.” 

“What?” 

“What do you suggest that I wear...to meet someone’s mom?” 

Hyunjin practically leapt out of his chair and three feet into the air. 

“YOU’RE MEETING SOMEONE’S MOTHER?! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!” 

“Get your ass back down in your seat.” You whipped your head around to see your coworkers concerned glances. “Yes, I am.” 

“Thank God that you asked me. This is a serious matter.” 

“I can’t exactly ask Seungmin...so...” 

“Don’t you worry! I know exactly what you can do. So,” His voice turned sing-songy, “~What’s he like~ And how come you didn’t tell me about this sooner??” 

“-Because I knew that you would have this exact same reaction.” 

“I promise I’ll calm down, okay, go:” 

“Well, he’s my neighbor, and I’ve only met him a few weeks ago, and he’s got cats, and he’s really sweet and not to mention hot as well but in like kind of a... cozy, librarian kind of way? Anyway, he wears cardigans--and you know that I’m a sucker for a good cardigan--and I’m convinced that the universe is trying to get me to destroy him but, that’s beside the point--” 

“Slow down slow down! Literally all of the words you said just now don’t make sense together.” 

You wheeled your chair closer to the man across from you, “And then he asked me to meet his cats and his mom or maybe just his cats or his mom, he was kinda unclear about that now that I think about it...” 

“So he’s hot and has cats, hmm, sounds right up your alley.” 

“I-I guess.” 

“Are you sure he’s not, you know, trying to be neighborly?” 

You punched Hyunjin’s arm so hard you jiggled your glasses on your face. “Don’t ruin this for me.” 

“Sorry I brought it up! Ok, ok, I think I know what you should do. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you bag this sexy librarian man?” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“I sure as hell hope that you’re not trying to be neighborly.” 

You smoothed down your freshly ironed blouse: a floral pattern with birds, something “light and springy” just as Hyunjin had recommended. The pleats in your trousers were in shape as well. He had suggested too that you tied your hair up, something about it being professional and “dateable.” 

Bomi sauntered up to you while you inspected your outfit in the full-length mirror. Her gorgeous green eyes were squinted after her day-long nap, and she yawned while she brushed up against your leg. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure Bomi?” You bent down to pat her head, which she promptly shied away from. “You think that this looks good? Mother-worthy?” 

Bomi blinked. 

“Thanks for your input Bo.” 

Another yawn. 

Your nightstand held your little jewelry tree, and from it you took a dainty silver necklace that hung just above the neckline of your blouse, as well as the thin tan wristwatch that you wore once in a blue moon. 

The watch face read 5 o’clock exactly.  

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit!.” 

Bomi scrambled out of your way as you flew around the room trying to find a matching pair of socks. You stopped one more in front of the mirror. Your mother’s words always did find a way of seeping back into your skin like poison. Even if you had looked “nice” a nagging voice deep down echoed: “you’ve only ever been less than auspicious. Why don’t you ever change that?” 

“Screw your mother.” Hyunjin had said. 

If it only was that easy. 

Your footsteps clomped down the stairs, and you threw on the same pair of kitten heels. 

“Shit. The gift.” You slapped your forehead, cursing your horrid memory. 

“And don’t forget to bring his mother something. A gift. Something small but thoughtful. Something that she can use. Mothers eat shit up like that.” 

You frantically searched your entire home for something that resembled a gift. After a few moments of searching, you had resolved to go without it--you’d explain that it was in the mail, or misplaced, or anything but the fact that you didn’t have one. You grabbed your humorous amount of keychains on your keys, eyes catching that little box of complimentary chocolates from the bridal shower.  

“Good enough.” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

One more time, you checked your reflection in the glass door leading to Minho’s mother’s townhouse. 

“This is fine, you can do this. Don’t screw this up, you’re fine, you’re fine.” 

Minho opened the door, looking as confusingly adorable and downright gorgeous as you had grown to know him as. This time, he had ditched the cardigan for a sky blue sweater that still pooled at his palms. Seeing how casually he had dressed, you instantly felt overdressed, and made a mental reminder to cuss out Hyunjin when you got the chance later. 

“Come in,” He gently ushered you to the spot where you switched on shoes for slippers.

“You-um, look really nice.” Minho pushed up his glasses up his nose bridge, “Really pretty.” 

“Th-thank you, um, you too.” 

He snickered, “No one has called me pretty before.” 

“Shit, Sorry, that was weird, sorry, I’m just kinda...nervous.” 

“No, not at all, I don’t mind. I appreciate the compliment.” 

You stood at the doorway, awkward silence permeating the air. Suddenly, you remembered the chocolates in your hands. 

“Oh, this is for you and your mother, I thought I might as well bring something over...” 

Minho took it from you, and you prayed that he wouldn’t think too much of the packaging that just looked a little too wedding-y. 

“Thank you for this.” He popped the box open excitedly, “What kind are they?” 

It took a couple seconds, but you watched in horror as his expression turned from thrilled to deeply confused. 

“What is it?” You craned your neck over to see.

“Are they...supposed to look like that?” 

Inside of the little plastic compartments, each of the chocolates had melted into blobs pathetically and swirled together making one huge, brown, melted--and then solidified again--chocolate mess. 

“Oh my god.” Your throat felt as tight as a knot in your embarrassment. “They’ve...” 

Minho hurriedly closed the box. “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” He tried the best he could to suppress his laughter. “It’s still about the same.” 

“No it’s not.” You whined out the words. “Don’t let your mother can’t see them, oh shit, oh shit.” 

“What happened to them?” 

Your horrid memory suddenly let you remember the fact that those chocolates had stayed in the car after the bridal shower when you had gone to visit your mother’s home. 

“Nothing good, just-hide them--” 

“Minho? Is that Y/n? Is she here?”

“--Hide it, quick!!!” 

Minho shoved the box behind a large houseplant, still hiding his laughter caught in his throat. 

“Ahhh Y/n! It’s so good to meet you at last! I’ve heard so much about you!” 

You greeted Minho’s mother with a bow, throwing the box of chocolates a disdainful glare. She was a gentle looking woman who appeared to be a little older than your own, or,  perhaps the same age. You wouldn’t be surprised if your mother had paid enough to procure the elixir of life; sounds like something she would have done. 

“I’m so happy to meet you as well. Thank you for inviting me in.” 

“Minho!!” His mother nudged his arm, “You didn’t tell me how pretty she was.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat when you gave another little bow in thanks. “Your home is really lovely too.” 

“Oh, it was all Minho’s idea, I’m just the one that did the cooking. I’m always happy to cook for a neighbor.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I’ve got a couple more things to prepare, Minho, you go show her the cats, I’m sure that she’d like that--I hear that you have a cat too?” 

You nodded. “Are you sure that you don’t need any help?” 

“No no, you both go on, I’ll handle this.” 

By each passing moment, this all started to feel a bit more like a playdate than an official meeting of one’s mother. Here you were, a grown woman, and you had gone over to someone’s house to play with their cats. Maybe you weren’t as much of a grown woman as you thought you were. 

“Over here.” Minho guided you to the living room: it was a modest one with furniture that looked to be very old, with beautiful traditional pictures of landscapes with assorted baby photos hanging on the walls. Everywhere, there was little pieces of evidence of the residence of cats: cat toys, scratching pads, a couple cat carriers and the cat tree nearest the window. At the top tier of the structure, there was a white and orange cat lazing with a foot slung over the side. 

“Doongie?” You carefully approached the furball to pet it’s tiny paw. 

“That one is Soonie, I have two cats that look a bit similar. Doongie is probably somewhere strange. You never know cats. Mine really like hopping on top of the china cabinet; it scares my mother half to death” 

“I can imagine.” 

Soonie remained unbothered, little cat body peacefully sleeping. 

“Over here is Dori, the youngest one.” 

Dori was a bit striped, with a grey body and a white belly. The smaller cat was rolled up into a perfect cinnamon roll on the loveseat. The cat stirred hearing it’s name, and keened into Minho’s touch when he scratched its head. You copied the touch, and Dori granted you the same permission. 

“You cats are so sweet...wanna trade?” 

“I...think that I’m good with the cat’s I’ve got. But that is a tempting offer.” 

Making a rather loud appearance was Doongie, who ambled into the room with a series of loud yowls and meows, looking up to both you and Minho with striking yellow eyes.  

“Doongie!” You crouched down to give the cat scratches under it’s chin, making it purr slightly. “Did you miss me? I hope that you’ve been staying out of trouble.” 

Minho’s gentle brown eyes observed your interactions with his cats, simply letting you play around with them as you wished. Every once and a while, you could catch his eyes following you with a contented little grin on his face.

There was something so domestic and comforting about the whole scene. Inside the townhouse that felt well loved and with the smell of a homecooked meal in the air, there was something so peaceful about it all that was a little foreign to you. 

“Minho! Please come help me with the bowls!” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎ 

Crickets chirped along the pathway and into the spring’s chilly nighttime air. Minho had offered to walk you home, even though you were just two houses down. Because of this, it seemed as if the two of you were walking in slow motion, taking one step after the other as slowly and carefully as you could. Absentmindedly, you both wanted just a little more time. 

After spending the night being on your best behavior, you felt as if you could finally breathe. Granted, you had grandly spilled soup all over Minho’s mother, but this seemed to diffuse quickly once she had laughed raucously at the event. She was a sweet woman, with a kind soul, much like Minho. Her lightly wrinkled face shone like the sun and made you feel loved even without knowing her much. 

In many ways, you wondered what it would be like having a mother as such. It was likely however, maybe you just weren’t supposed to know. 

Minho cast his gaze up to the sprinkling of stars spread out over the vast sky: most of them invisible due to the closeness to the city. 

“You know, I’m starting to really like living out here, in the suburbs I mean. Everything in the city was so fast and chaotic, it’s nice to sit back and let things be still for a while.” 

“You don’t miss it?” 

“Not as much as I did. The city...holds a lot of memories for me; some of them I’d rather forget. Being out here feels like a new start.” 

The two of you stopped near the light coming from your porch. In the soft glow of yellow, coupled with the gentle navy blue tint of the night, Minho looked ethereal--perhaps even a little fairy-like. 

You cursed out your writer brain for thinking of your little made up world at a time like this when you had this boy, real, in front of you. 

“I had a nice time with you tonight.” Minho shoved his hands into his pants pockets with a cute little smirk. “I think my cats are a fan of you as well, so, that puts a good word in for you in my book.” 

“Me too. Thank-thank you for inviting me.” 

“Next time, we should do something different, I heard actually that there’s a meteor shower in a couple weeks.” 

“Wait, next time?” 

“Or, we could do something sooner if you’d like.” 

“You want to do something else? With me?” 

“Yes you, who else would I be talking about?” Minho capped his sentence with a little snicker. 

“S-sorry, I just...don’t understand...why would you... I mean, I don’t do too much besides kinda hide in my house with my cat...there isn’t really a lot of things interesting about--” 

Minho squatted down, sweeping something off of the sidewalk. It wasn’t until he had put it in your hair that you had realized he had taken one of the cherry blossoms from your tree to tuck it behind your ear. His head titled slightly as he admired the decoration, fingers lingering by the side of your cheek for a moment. 

��I disagree.” He hushed, barely saying the words louder than a whisper. “Even though you you tent to get yourself into...situations--not that I mind anyway, you are special. Hell, and I haven’t even known you that long. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.” 

Had it been socially acceptable, you would’ve kissed him right then and there. 

If only it were that easy. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Chapter 25 

There Blaze was, standing, simple, cuts on his face and that little scar on his eyebrow twitching. The campfire illuminated his eyes with the flames, creating that brazen fire that he had gotten his name from. 

Bomi knew him well. In fact, she thought she had known him better than most--a fact which she selfishly kept to herself. Blaze was everything she had known for the past year or so, and the time had interwoven their paths in ways that she had never expected. Before her was a person who knew her too, perhaps better than she knew herself. 

Blaze’s callused hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb rubbing over her own battle scars. 

“If you’ll not have me, please know Princess, you are the strongest warrior, bravest leader, and wisest friend that I have had the pleasure of knowing. I’ll stay by your side until I breathe my last breath.” 

With a shaking hand, Bomi took Blaze’s hand resting on her cheek. She memorized the way that his skin felt on hers, making a million silent wishes that she knew would never come true. 

“You and I, we both know that fate would have other plans for us...I’m sorry.” 

Bomi turned from the warmth of the campfire, and the way that his eyes held hers. 

She wished a million wishes, and he was nearly every one one of them. 

[darkmindsotome]

On the Riverbank

Title: On the Riverbank

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing:  Kei Soejima x MC

 Word count:3,963

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: After suffering from cabin fever a date is in order. Only this simple date plan is going to get spicy.

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #15: Free Prompt (Picnic on the River)

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 I was willing to blame uncontrollable events on the fact that we hadn’t managed to go on a date in a while. Between work and recovering from work, it had been impossible to plan anything. However, it had become the new norm for us to remain living together at Kei’s rooms in Raven.

At some point, I began to feel like I had cabin fever. I was happy to be with Kei and a secret part of me loved being at home with him 24/7. To think there was a time when I thought this was a prison sentence. I couldn’t deny the fact I wanted to go out and do something now things had settled down though.

After looking out of the large windows in the suite over the streets of London, sighing for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, into my nighttime cup of tea. Kei put down his book and announced we would be going on a date. Later that night I curled up happily in bed wrapped in his arms and fell fast asleep.

The next day I woke up alone. My mysterious man had vanished before I could say so much as a good morning or ask about our date plans. Patting down the sheet on his side of the bed resulted in me finding them stone cold. He was always an early riser but this was ridiculous. I then noticed a note left on his pillow.

“Good morning, forgive me I had some things to tend to. I have arranged a car to bring you to our date. K”

I rubbed my fingers over his beautiful cursive writing just as a courier arrived at the door and delivered a beautifully wrapped box. The duck egg blue container was almost pearlescent with a thick cream coloured satin ribbon all perfectly tied around it.

The timing was so perfect I really had to marvel at the man organising this and wonder if I was always this predictable or if I would discover a hidden camera somewhere in the room. Opening the box up revealed a single white rose with a card resting on top of a black dress that fitted Kei’s tastes perfectly.

“I can’t wait to see you. K”

The message had me smiling long before I took the dress out of the box. It was a vintage style tea dress with little cap sleeves made from some of the most delicate lace I’d ever seen. It looked almost like patterned smoke.  

There was something different about getting ready for a mission and getting ready for a date. The feeling I got from both was similar but I found I was much more nervous about a date than a life-threatening mission. I rushed through my prep stage of shower, hair and make-up.  

Slipping into the dress I instantly fell in love with it. Kei knew my measurements off by heart and I was pretty sure he had them on file with his usual tailor so he could get the outfits he gifted me perfect right down to the last stitch.

Walking into the closet to find a pair of suitable shoes I discovered some already sitting out. They were naturally also black with the addition of ribbons that wrapped around my ankles. Securing the bows, I couldn’t help but make the comparison between them and cuffs. I felt heat climbing up from them at the thought. I imagined Kei and what was probably going through his head as he picked them out for me. How his fingers would have traced the shoes and the ribbon. The idea of tying me up was never far from his mind and with these shoes, it felt like he had already started.

Shaking my head, I looked at my watch and doubled checked my reflection in the mirror before leaving to go get in the car. I watched from the back seat absentmindedly playing with my choker as the car took me away from the centre of the metropolis. 

The modern landscape changed slowly into something that felt more historic. The buildings looked older; the concrete jungle had passed into something more like a tv drama set. In fact, if I hadn’t known how far I had travelled I might have thought I was somewhere else entirely.

My eyes caught a familiar figure standing near the roadside. He was dressed in more casual clothes. The white trousers, cream coloured cricket jumper with a blue stripe around the collar and the light blue shirt under it all made him look like a student. The car slowed until the backdoors aligned perfectly with him. I had seconds to smooth down my dress and mentally brush off some of the nervous excitement before the door was opened.

“M’lady.” I smiled at the Princely Kei as he offered me his hand. It was all too easy to forget what he truly was like even for me. Yes, I loved his sweet and angelic side, but I also loved that tricky Devil he hid behind his mask too.

“Thank you.”

Kei guided me to his side, away from the car, and sent it on its way. Now completely alone he used our still joined hands to make me twirl for him as he looking me over from head to toe.

“You look even better than I imagined.” Kei smiled and brought me closer to him. Sweeping some of my hair away from my neck so he could brush his fingers along the neckline of the dress and the choker around my neck.

I once more felt the difference in attire. I was all dressed up and felt far more formal than he did. The idea of him being a student once more flitted through my mind conjuring up kinky scenarios of a socialite sneaking off for a romantic rendezvous with a hidden student lover. It was silly, Kei was older than me even if there were times it was hard to tell that from appearance alone.  

“Careful now or you might start sounding like Kazuomi.” I joked attempting to forget the thoughts going through my mind.

My eyes naturally fluttered shut. His cold elegant fingers ghosting over my skin was enough to remind me of the many nights we spent together. Where he had dyed me in his own colours and shown me the abyss behind the door to depravity. Joining me as we fell through purgatory to our own private Eden.

“Perish the thought.” He let go of me. A sensation that left me feeling the need to chase him.

Opening my eyes, I saw that impish look on his face. He was slowly becoming more and more adjusted to life outside of his own nightmares and past. It was still obvious he was a little lost and confused at times but when he was like this, I could almost imagine him as a little boy. It made my heart sing to think we could stand here now together and I could enjoy such a candid fragment of my elusive boyfriend.

“Come now we should get this date started.” Kei laced our fingers and matched his pace to mine.

We walked through some trees and right up to the side of a riverbank. There in front of us was a beautiful craft floating on the water. Inside were some large cushions a few blankets and a basket.

“I thought I would show you a little hospitality and tradition.” Kei let go of my hand briefly to climb onto the small craft and then held out his hand again to help me get on board as well.

“We are going boating?” I giggled as the whole thing rocked under my feet. The idea of mixing something traditional from his own country and a date was so him it made me happy.  

“Punting. It is quite different but I trust you will enjoy yourself.” Kei’s correction came with all the patience I had come to expect from someone who knew so much and was used to sharing it in the course of his work.

“I think I’ve seen it before. It looked like the river had turned into Venice or something.” I sat down carefully feeling rather small when I looked back up at Kei.

“I can understand your comparison and whilst you can use a pole on both vessels a Punt is different to a Gondola.” He smiled and retrieved the long pole from the riverbank using it to cast off.

I watched him standing near my feet moving the pole through his hands with little effort. If you were really quiet you could hear the smooth wood, polished with years of use, slipping through the water and his palms.

“It doesn’t feel as safe as I thought it would.” I commented as the pole in his hand seemed to get stuck on something under the water and give a little tug that made the punt slightly rock.

“I assure you that I am an excellent Punter.” Kei’s expression was so deadpan and relaxed as he declared this I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I get the feeling your friends would be doubling over in laughter right about now hearing you say that.”

“Yes, they probably would. Thankfully they aren’t or I would have tipped them both into the Thames and made them swim.” He looked down at me. The shadows from the trees we were moving through were casting shadows on his pale skin. I didn’t miss how his playful eyes shone through the shade.

“You wouldn’t…”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride. I did consider placing the seat facing forward but selfishness prevented me from doing so. I wanted to see your face, forgive me.” The Devil faded in the light once more replaced by the charming Prince.

“You know I never once pictured you doing this?” I sunk back into the cushions, finding them much more comfortable than I thought they would be. The blankets as well were a mixture of textures but each one was thick and luxurious.

“Oh? Punting has been a traditional pastime in England since the 1860’s it really caught on by the 1880s and 1900s though. Before they became used for recreation these little crafts were used as part of the transporting of traders.” He spoke as he manoeuvred the pole and pushed us forward in the water. “Are you familiar with Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes of course it’s a children’s classic.” I happily nodded. I know it is kind of a strange thing to enjoy but I did genuinely love how knowledgeable he was and how he explained things. It was like having my own personal tour guide and professor.

“Quite so. Well, the author Lewis Carroll used to punt along the Thames and during one of his outings where he was with a friend’s children he started to tell the story of a curious little girl who followed a rabbit. He later put pen to paper and created the beloved tale as a gift.” He lowered his voice as if he had just shared a piece of information vital to national security.

“I didn’t know that.” I don’t know what face I was showing him when he looked down at me. His face seemed to soften, although it could also have been my imagination.

“Literature aside I thought I would show you some more of England than the inside of Raven or shopping in the capital.” I looked around at the countryside slowly passing. I knew there was more to London than concrete and cars but I didn’t think there was this much greenery.

“I thought the Thames was larger than this.” I mused and put my hand over the side dipping it in the cool water playing with the ripples made by the punt as it moved.

“It is. We are currently on one of its many streams. Still part of the river but not as heavy with the tourist trade. You will also know of the boating traditions between Oxford and Cambridge, yes?” Kei always seemed to become a little more animated when talking like this. It was like he suddenly had an outlet for all the bottled-up information and facts he had in that well-read brain of his.

“The boat race?” I titled my head against the sun and saw him nodding happily.

“Yes, it is covered by the media extensively at the time. Well, the competition between the two on these waters doesn’t stop with rowing. There is a traditional Oxford way to Punt and then there is the traditional Cambridge version.” Kei grimaced theatrically as he explained.

“Haha, you don’t sound like you approve of the Cambridge way.”

“I am an Oxford man.” He almost seemed to stand up straighter as he said that. “The flat raised planking behind you is called the Till. A Cambridge man would stand on the Till and punt like so.” He stepped over me and demonstrated what he meant. It caused the punt to lurch which had me clinging to the sides of it thinking it might tip us both in the water. “Whereas an Oxford man, He will stand in the punt and work from here.” Kei stepped back into the punt and resumed moving us from inside. The vessel settled back down and I ended up breathing a sigh of relief. “Also a notable difference is the till. Following Oxford tradition, it is always facing front in the direction one is moving."

"I had no idea there were so many traditions.”

“There are more but I fear any more information will bore you under this hot sun. Here should be suitable.” He pushed the punt so it brushed up against the bank again this time next to what looked like a very secluded spot. The grass was short and looked to be recently cut. Surrounding it were high hedges and some trees.

“What is this place?” I asked as we left the punt for more stable ground.

“You will find them all around. They are locations people usually used for picnics.” Kei spoke as he stuck the pole into the bank and tied the punt to it.

“Are they all this well maintained?” I was still looking around. I don’t think I have ever been to a part of London that has ever made me feel so totally alone. It was pleasantly unusual.

“The ones that are owned are yes. This is one of my family’s spots.” He leant over and scooped up the basket and grabbed a blanket. With them in hand, he then walked into the centre of the grass and quickly set up.

“What do you have hidden away in your basket of tricks?” I sat down on the blanket and waited for him to reveal his secrets.

“We have tea, the very seasonal and traditional strawberries and cream.” He placed a flask down next to the punnet of fresh fruit and a pot of thick white cream. “We also have peanut butter sandwiches…”

“You made this picnic, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help but giggle. When he said he had things to do in his note I thought it would have been work-related. Now I had visions of him shopping and preparing this picnic instead.

“What is wrong with it?” He asked. His golden hair shining like a halo under the sun.

“Nothing just it's very you. If you had brought the basket from somewhere or had someone else make it, I doubt peanut butter would have made it on the menu.” It was true he could have ordered it from room service or had it made up somewhere in town and just brought it along. The fact that he actually made anything himself was endearing.

“Did you want something different?” His expression shifted and he looked like a child that was waiting to be scolded.

“No this is perfect.” I reached over and took one of the sandwiches from the plate in his hands.

“I did think of bringing some Pimms but I reconsidered.” Kei recovered fast, the cracks in his mask reformed.

“Why?”

“The time of day for one thing. I mean as Kazuomi would argue it's five o’clock somewhere but I would hate for you to be so drunk you fell overboard.”  He poured some tea from the flask and handed it to me. Our fingers touching for a second, more than long enough for me to realise his body temperature was still as cold as normal.

“We both know I have a better tolerance to alcohol than that.” How can he do that? It was so hot the world could be melting and Kei would still be sitting there in a pullover surrounded by his own internal climate control. “You said this was one of the quieter parts of the River. Why come here? Oops!”

I had been so concerned with not spilling the tea he had given me I had completely misjudged the integrity of the sandwich in my hand. Part of it failed to make it to my mouth and vanish down the neckline of the dress. Embarrassment threatened to bloom inside me and I really hoped Kei had missed what I had just done.

“Is it a crime to want to spend some time alone with my girlfriend?” His voice was so close and I hadn’t felt the blanket move or even seen him shift. Yet he was right next to me his face so close to mine I could feel his breath in my ear. “Honestly I did think of following one of the other paths of the river. There are more pubs and places to go along them but I wanted to enjoy something more scenic with you.” He trailed his fingers along my choker and then slipped them down the front of my dress. “Now I’m glad I made this choice.”

“Something about how you just said that makes me think you weren’t referring to a quiet picnic together.” I acted cooler than I felt. I knew he could feel my heart beating and see the pulse running wild in my neck. All the time I faked being calm as his fingers extradited the rogue peanut butter sandwich from my body.

“You always were very observant.” I followed his hand as it carried the salvaged food to his own mouth. Those eyes of his locked on me looking like pools of golden lust.

They drew me to him like a spell and held me there as he locked me up in his arms, his hands roamed freely over me. Tumbling back together onto the blanket the picnic was threatening to be forgotten.

“Mmm Kei.” My breathy cry came out as he nibbled on my collarbone and began moving a hand up my leg under the fabric of the dress.

“Careful now. It might be a secluded spot but there is no telling who you might summon with a voice like that.” He teased as his fingers did some teasing of their own. Rubbing the outline of my sex through the sheer fabric of his favourite lace panties.

“As long as one of the people I summon is you I don’t care.” I was done with coy. Coy and demure didn’t get you anywhere fast with this man. There was a time and place for all that and when we were alone and things were heating up was not one of those times.

“Mmm, have I ever told you how stunning you are when you are honest with your desires?” He slipped his fingers past the lace pressing his thumb onto my clit before pumping a couple of digits inside me. I wanted to moan louder but his warning from before made me stop.

I looked up and found him smirking. He knew I was holding back. He knew I was trying to be a good girl but damn him if he wasn’t trying to break me.

“I don’t think I can remember.” Two could play that game and I tried to make it look like I was still in control. With every stroke from his hand, I was losing my sanity, but I kept up a strong front and played the game.

“Then I’ll have to take my time and remind you.” He moved on top of me his hand still driving a fever through my core as he spread my legs wide with his own.

“What about the picnic?”

“There is time enough for both. I don’t intend to let anything here on this blanket go to waste.”

His voice purred erotically as he slid the zip on the dress down my back and dragged the bodice low enough to expose my breasts. The cap sleeves I had thought were a nice addition were now part of the binding of fabric that was preventing my arms from freely moving.

Kei brushed his fingers over the lace of the bra and once more slid his hand inside. Treating each nipple to a firm pinch as he ravished my mouth with his tongue. I squirmed under him trying to wrap my legs around his and return the restraint in kind.

“Hehe, you really are the only one that has ever tried to dominate me.” His laugh was like a clear bell whilst the things he was doing to me had my head crashing like a drum.

“Kei… please stop teasing me already.” I moved some more only to find his weight was gone. He had stopped touching me completely and was sitting back on his heels looking at me.

“As My Lady commands.”

I watched as he licked his hand clean and used the other to undo his belt and trousers. It wasn’t unusual for him to remain clothed but it rarely happened where it was so bright.  I bit my lip as he rolled my dress higher exposing all of me. He said nothing as he undid the strings on the panties and placed them into his pocket. The silence was deafening given how aroused I was. He leaned over and dipped a strawberry into the thick cream holding it just out of reach of my mouth.

“Eat it.” His command seemed absolute even if it was given in a sugary-sweet tone.  I tried to stretch for it but couldn’t. His eyes twinkled and his smile became more wicked. “I guess if you can’t be a good girl then I’ll just have to treat you like a bad one instead.”

I felt my core tighten as he brought his palm down with a crack against my bare thigh. He pressed down on me again. His mouth connecting with mine. Fruit and cream filled my senses as he used his own mouth to feed me. The escaped juices were lapped up by his tongue as he arranged himself to take this to the next level.

“Ah!” A slight sharpness ripped through my body and was quickly numbed as the pleasure of us finally connecting took over. With each rock of his body, it moved my body against the ground far more than the swaying of any boat.

Our mouths connected again and again at different angles to the point where I was sure I had forgotten to breathe. His fingers ran through my hair sometimes pulling grabbing at it but each time it only emphasised his desire for me and made my whole body tingle.

I never did find out if anyone else was around as Kei had said or if it was all just another layer to his devilish lies to set the mood. I did discover that I would never be able to eat a picnic again without the addition of a peanut sandwich.

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