#and then realized I’m just horrible at reading numbers lmao

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

I worked some more on my Premonition of Love fic >:3 we at 11k words now yippiekaiyayweeeeeeee!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Bro I think you just met Shidou incarnate /j LMAOO but I feel you better safe than sorry!! The many wonders of the internet lmao

ME fr me at first I remember seeing some announcements and I was like wait what’s going on why’s Shidou the cover of vol. 5??? Then I realized LOL but yes will keep you updated!!

The way that kaneshiro apparently has written some other freaky mangas too has me reeling like bro WHAT but yeah i wonder when we’ll finally nail in the idea that not sexualized is really bare minimum the fact that we have to say it’s bare minimum already speaks sm to society but anyways….

LMAOOOO everyone being a BLLK fusion but WAIT XY ASH >>>> no because i remember thinking “wait why is ash so different here” and I stumbled on a post that was like “it’s because they finally gave him fucking teeth” LMFAOOOO and lowk they’re not wrong??? I’m not sure what it is but without the teeth when he just has like a pink triangle for a mouth it just looks goofy ig but also he went through something between unova and kalos like his personality and everything but yeah anyways STEVEN STONEEEE

Wtf….wtf…….bro the bakery scene was a breaking/development point for that exact conflict too??? But also just wtf do they not remember anything about maki or mai like we KNOW how women are treated in jujutsu society which ties into the abuse reader faced and her reliance on noritoshi like bro if you think she was allowed to make independent decisions before you’re tripping too it was also literally all established leading up to the bakery scene like did you just not read….(I LOCE THAT QUOTE TOO THO) but AGREED I don’t wanna rain on peoples parades but yeah not my choice of fic setting where readers just op and edgy but no I definitely know what you’re talking about I also find it really cringey and can’t get myself to read it

Mira back at it again with the extensive research but WOW I would eat that up if I had any deeper knowledge of aot LMAO wait the breakdown of the badass killer action girl trope waitttt you’re onto something all of this sounds very very intriguing I can just imagine all the angst and development

LMFAOO “I’m a married man” is so loser karasu coded wait reader not following back is so fucking funny the petty salt is real that would totally happen TABIKIYOKEN LMAOOO otoya getting bullied by his team instead of kiyora stop that would be peak comedy

I GOT YOU!!! No because you’re just taking my thoughts and putting them into words if I thought you were a bad person I’d be a hypocrite LMAOO it’s fr refreshing to see a voice of reason though I look at tiktok and etc for memes and all but when something crazy comes up you know it’s really batshit insane

PSLSLS NUMBER ONE NAGI DEFENDER dw in 6 days we’ll get more…trust!!!! Ok but I didn’t realize so many people here hated him???? Like no leave him alone he’s just a boy who likes sleeping and gaming shoo shoo

- Karasu anon

LMAOOO SHE WASN’T EVEN SHIDOU SHE WAS STRAIGHT UP FANON SHIDOU it was horrible…tbh in our conversations and my random thoughts that i post i’ve said enough that anyone who knows me irl could put things together quite easily but the plausible deniability of my face not being on here + nobody ever reading our conversations besides us two gives me confidence (also it’s my blog and my life so i’ll do what i want…i can’t allow her to control my life completely PLUS i know her ao3 with her horrifically bad smut fics and i never told anyone even when i found it + i never told her my account so there’s that element to it)

HAHA that’s so interesting i’m actually intrigued now about this!! please do keep me posted LMAO and yeah he’s written a lot of really random stuff which is so interesting to me like what was the impetus to switch to a sports manga after that?? but anyways yeah one day we will move past the sexualization of female characters and get to writing them as actual people

NO BECAUSE THE MORE I THINK ABOUT IT THE MORE I’M LIKE “wow i was really fate to like nagi huh” because not only did i like steven stone and inumaki (both pale haired baddies) i also really liked mahito when i first started jjk?? got a lot of hate for finding him attractive but i somehow did…and now it turns out he has the same VA as nagi so actually i think my mind just recognized him before i even knew it was him

I LOVEEE THE ART STYLE OF XY i lowkey stopped watching after xy but i wish they would’ve kept that more mature style and feel to the anime!! HAHA omg not ash getting teeth…he looked really good in xy though agreed and he feels like such a different character too?? like an actual trainer instead of an idiot 😭 tbh he should’ve won the kalos league he had such a good team too 😩 but it is what it is ig…

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING LIKE THE BAKERY SCENE IS LITERALLY MEANT TO BE HER BREAKING POINT??? that’s when she realizes that it’s okay for her to be herself and grow progressively more sassy and self-reliant (her with todo and megumi specifically is SO funny like she becomes mini gojo with them almost) which is compounded by her bringing yuta back to life but fr that’s not even a theme i made up LMAOO like there are themes that are pi-specific (love as resurrection for example) but the mistreatment of women is EXPLICIT in jjk it’s not even implied gege straight up shows it 😭 it’s that tik tok reader/14 year old wattpad user epidemic i think…the fact that reader didn’t pop out of the womb fighting against the abuse she faced makes them think she’s automatically weak when honestly given the circumstances the entire scene in the prologue when she exorcises a curse with the pins from her hairstyle and insists to noritoshi in front of EVERONE that he allow her to go to school is incredibly brave and much more than can be expected of her realistically!! also wait but tangentially related someone also once commented on the scene in the chapter post-shibuya when reader asks yuta if she’s ugly that she was “fishing for compliments” i had to stop and stare at the screen for a moment there…like this girl has been PERMANENTLY DISGIFURED the scars on her neck and hands never go away!! yes it’s not to the extent that maki was but the two of them are very different characters + unlike maki reader has kind of grown up her entire life being praised for her beauty and being told that that’s one of her only redeeming qualities 😰 i don’t think it’s unreasonable/fishing for compliments that she’s insecure after going through an incredibly traumatic experience and having to look at the reminders of it every time she sees her reflection??? like let’s not forget that the scars on her neck are from when jogo is literally choking her to death and the ones on her hands are from when she effectively dooms tullia by using the last of her energy to use composition on jogo 😓 anyways most people are very nice commenters so don’t think i’m ungrateful or anything it’s just that the crazy ones are so insane i’m consistently flabbergasted by them

YES EDGY that’s the word!! like when they’re trying too hard to make them seem cool and powerful and whatnot i’m just like huh and then i close the tab it’s not for me 😩 but yk everyone has their preferences i guess

AWWW THANK YOU honestly i wish i was still into aot enough to finish it because it was such a fascinating story like the reader is probably my favorite reader EVER not only does she commit many many literal war crimes but i get to explore her mental state throughout it…like it’s not just the guy she kind of falls in love with she also dooms her former friends without much remorse in the moment it was really cool to write about that kind of detached state in a person where she’s making these brutal moves because she’s so overly concerned with protecting herself that she doesn’t care about how she’s ruining people’s lives…then once the war ends and she’s reminded of what she’s done she’s like HEAVILY depressed and lowkey suicidal and has some insane coping mechanisms and it’s even worse because when she goes home she’s treated like a hero even though she thinks she’s a monster 😰 and then she finally begins to heal in (what is probably my favorite chapter of anything ever) this scene where’s she’s taken to a hospital to meet with this ex-soldier who was tortured by their enemies (it’s a very gruesome description because i did not shy away from gore but basically he was kept in solitary confinement before they took him back out and pour acid over his face every day for weeks because he refused to talk [he didn’t know anything] so half of his face is completely burnt and one of his eyes has melted out) and she realizes that she also saved some people…his face is meant to be a reflection of her mental state so we see him later on looking much better which shows how she’s doing better too!! it’s such an intricate plot imo (not to self glaze) with the most insane angst and development but i had so much fun turning that stereotypical trope on its head and showing what war and conflict ACTUALLY does to people

karasu is SUCHHHH a loser in fwtkac especially omg imagine a girl slides into his dms and is like “hey i think you’re cute” and he just likes the message and doesn’t even respond meanwhile he’s heart reacting to reader’s every single story (besides the otoya one) and she eventually texts him (because they somehow have each other’s numbers) and is like “yo you need to stop i’m going to block you” and over text he’s just like “👍” but internally he’s like “Y/N NOTICED ME 🥹🤩🥰” omg can you imagine karasu just adopts kiyora as his son (he has experience w parenting given hiori) and they just terrorize blue lock as the resident number one bullies HAHAHA

LMAOO we are just that synced up fr…yeah tik tok is crazy i’m only there for the audios edits and memes other than that i try to avoid the insane takes i consistently see 😭 PLEASE THERE ARE SO MANY NAGI HATERS IT’S INSANE???? call me nanami the way i’m doing overtime defending him…to be fair as someone who actively does not like the top four most popular characters in the fandom i have to be prepared to take the heat i dish out 😩 maybe i need to change to a karasu theme i don’t think i’ve ever met a karasu hater 🤔 JKJK if the world doubles down on hating nagi then i will double down on loving him ‼️ forcing everyone to read pursuit just so they’re converted to nagism ong

[andypantsx3]

shoto and 'when i find out who is responsible for this...' IM A SUCKER FOR OVERPROTECTIVE SHO LMAO

This one was one of my faves to write, I really hope you like it!

Damage | Todoroki/Reader

Prompt: “When I find out who is responsible for this...” Word Count: 1600 words Tags/Warnings: SFW, ye olde quirk accident trope Notes: Special thanks again to my lady love @bobawithpomegranate for beta-ing me!! Also, for anyone who hasn’t suffered a corporate job: KPIs = key performance indicators, which are a set of business metrics used to measure success in certain areas.

The first sign that something was wrong should have been in line for security. 

Ayako—your favorite member of the Todoroki Agency security team—was waving a detector wand over your clothes when she asked casually, “How’s it going?”

Any other morning, your response was something along the lines of, “Oh, it’s going. How are you?” This morning, however, you blurted, “Good! Except that I bumped someone on the train and spent ten minutes trying to get a coffee stain out of this shirt, and I feel a little sick when I think about leading the KPIs review because Shouto’s property damage numbers are up again which doesn’t look great, so I skipped breakfast but honestly I’m super hungry right now, that was a bad choice, and—”

You cut yourself off, utterly bewildered. Ayako looked similarly nonplussed, raising a slim brow. 

“Uh, nevermind. I’ll just be going,” you said, and hared off to the rest of the security checkpoints before she could give commentary.

So you might have known that something was wrong even before you let yourself into Shouto’s manager’s office, armed with your monthly spreadsheets and performance slide decks. But you hadn’t given it more thought since then, a move which proved to be a complete mistake.

Shouto was already there, lounging in the set of chairs in front of his manager’s desk, looking less like a hero waiting for a meeting and more like some airbrushed ad for his dark turtleneck or his close-fit grey slacks. Your heart shot into your throat at the sight of him, like it usually did, and you had to remind yourself to relax.

Though he was unbearably handsome to the point of distraction, Shouto was relatively easy to get along with, something that should have made you calmer in his presence. He was straightforward, possessed of very little ego, thoughtful, and a very linear and strategic thinker—you’d worked extremely well with him the past couple of years, and Shouto, though he had less to do with the daily operations of the agency, had helped push your promotion last year to Director of Public Relations. It should have added up to an easy and uncomplicated work partnership, but his personality only made your unfortunate crush on him even worse.

He was so horribly, horribly perfect. And you were an awful little metrics gremlin, called in to roast him over the open flame of public opinion once a month. Really not something Shouto might be interested in.

“Y/N,” he said, looking up from his phone and fixing you with an intent look. Your heart stuttered under those heterochromatic eyes.

“Hi, Shouto,” you said, setting down your bag and digging out your laptop for something to take your attention off of him. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” he answered in his deep tone. “How are you?”

And that was it. The damning question that sent it all to hell.

“My heart feels like it could explode any second, and I feel kind of faint, weirdly weak, and incredibly distracted,” you answered, naming the symptoms of his very presence.

There was a beat of silence. You froze, crouched over your bag, laptop halfway out of it. Then it hit you what had just been said, and you slapped a hand over your mouth in horror. 

Shouto was up out of his chair in the blink of an eye, kneeling in front of you with cool fingers on your face, angling it towards him.

“You’re not well?” he asked, those eyes locking on you with an alarming intensity.

His attention only made things worse. “I feel like I might pass out,” you said, cringing even as the words left your mouth.

Fuck, what the hell were you saying? You were making it sound like you were some Victorian maiden, ready to swoon in the mere company of a gentleman. And why were you saying this shit? You’d worked with him for years and you’d never let slip the effect he had on you—what was wrong with you this morning?

You thought back to the coffee incident on the train this morning, the way the girl whose drink you had spilled had startled, the way she had weirdly apologized to you even as you were in the midst of your own apology.

A sense of foreboding settled over you. 

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“I think I’ve been hit with a quirk,” you blabbed.

Shouto’s features shuttered, a hard look you’d never really seen before entering his eye. He went over to his manager’s desk, dialing a number on her office phone, and then he was talking in low tones, asking someone from medical to come up to her office immediately.

Then he was back at your side, easing you carefully to the floor like you actually were in danger of passing out, and not just a huge idiot with an incredibly fat crush that made you say the world’s most ridiculous things.

“When I find out who’s responsible for this,” he uttered, low and dangerous, “they might never be able to use a quirk again.”

For some reason, the threat warmed you, even as it sent a little shiver down your spine. Was it weird to find him hot when he was angry?

You clamped your mouth firmly shut, lest you tell him exactly what illness prevailed you, but your silence was all for naught.

Because when one of the medical staff made it up to the office, pressing a quirk testing strip to your skin, she pronounced, “A truth quirk.”

Shouto caught your hand before it could smack into your forehead, looking surprised that he had done so. And then even more surprised at the pronouncement.

“A truth quirk,” he echoed, looking down at you curiously. His fingers were gentle where they held your wrist.

You squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“But then, you’re still not well,” he said. He looked up at the medical staffer. “She’s feeling faint, and having problems with her heart.”

“She’s fine,” the staffer confirmed, holding up a scanner with your vital readings. They were embarrassingly perfect—incredibly, perfectly, damnably normal.

You could have died. You literally could have died.

Shouto looked down at you with a little wrinkle on his perfect brow, obviously wondering how you could admit symptoms like that given a truth quirk, only for there to be no physical sign of them. You tried to hold down the truth, but another question from him doomed you.

“But how?” he asked, clearly concerned, cool fingers smoothing over your cheekbone.

“I have an insanely huge crush on you,” you blurted. Then you unleashed a string of colorful swears, flushing so hot you thought you might catch fire.

Those heterochromatic eyes went a little round at the edges.

The medical staffer looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh as she bade a quick farewell. She was out the door before you could catch her sleeve and hold her like a shield against Shouto’s incredibly penetrating stare.

“I’m. Um. You know, sorry and everything,” you added. “I won’t let it interfere with work. I mean, I haven’t, any of the past couple years—fuck, oh my god, I just said that—”

Shouto was watching your mouth like he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of it.

“Say it again,” he said.

You paused, staring at him. “What?”

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“My heart feels like it could explode any second, and I feel kind of faint, weirdly weak, and incredibly distracted,” you answered obediently.

“Because of me,” he said, like it was a wonder.

You gave him an annoyed look. Obviously because of him, who the fuck else did he think wielded that combination of attractiveness and straightforward appeal like an S-class quirk of its own?

Shouto choked on a laugh, and you realized with some horror that you’d said all of that out loud. 

Damn the fucking truth quirk.

“I don’t know,” Shouto said, sounding amused. “I think I rather like it. When I find out who is responsible for this, I might have to thank them instead.”

This stopped you short.

He what now?

“I’m sorry, what?”

Something a little like a smirk curled the corner of Shouto’s mouth. “It is generally gratifying to know one’s feelings are returned, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I wouldn’t know—” you started, feeling annoyed with him again. Then you choked when the implication of his words sank in.

Shouto’s fingers slid down to cup your chin, and suddenly it felt like every nerve ending in your body was concentrated there, the touch magnified a thousand-fold into an all-consuming sensation. 

“Would you like me to kiss you?” he asked lightly, looking smug.

“Oh my god yes—” The answer was out of your mouth before he’d even finished the question.

Shouto laughed, and then he was leaning in. You could feel the smile still on his mouth when it met yours. Shouto’s kiss was careful and attentive, but you could sense something deeper beneath, the same kind of restrained sort of passion that underlaid his quirk. Having that kind of controlled intensity turned on you was something you could have never prepared for.

The kiss became deeper and more heated, and Shouto was just easing you backwards again, still pressed firmly to you, when the door opened and his manager blew in.

“This is a fucking office,” she said, stepping over the two of you like you were a grimy puddle in the street. “Now hurry the fuck up, we have KPIs to review. Shouto—don’t think this will derail me from your property damage numbers increasing.”

Shouto huffed into your mouth, slumping against you.

You couldn’t do anything but laugh.

Current event masterlist in pinned!

[frogtanii]

embarrassed ft. matsukawa issei

wc. 2.7k (???)

warnings. SMUT, not proofread lol, mutual pining (??), friends to lovers (???), cunnilingus lmao, no dom/sub dynamics, well actually dom&sub issei if you squint rlly hard hehe, kinda cute, embarrassed issei <3, also one (1) WAP reference

an. it’s 2:30 am and i have no idea why i wrote this and who for???? i got the idea from a 🦋😳🙈✨ audio and was immediately inspired idk, sorry if it’s bad i lichrally have no idea since i didn’t read it after it was done :p

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

it wasn’t like matsukawa issei to be embarrassed.

he was handsome, intelligent, and funny, not to mention he never left women wanting after a night with him.

issei was the entire package and he knew it.

beyond superficiality though, he was happy with his life. he had a great group of friends, a nice apartment all to himself and a completely normal job.

yes, being a funeral home employee wasn’t the most glamorous career a person could have but he was happy. besides, it never deterred him from getting a warm body to sleep with which was a win in his book.

all in all? his life was great!

so why did he have to go and screw it all up?

issei blames makki and the dumb flyer for the reason his life went to shit. (maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but let him have his oikawa moment.)

he was minding his own business when his best friend (recently turned enemy) burst through his apartment door with a piece of paper in his hand and a fire in his eyes.

“dude, look at this!” issei rolled his eyes, putting down his casket catalogue and turning to meet takahiro’s gaze.

“why hello to you too. remind me why i gave you a key again?”

“because you love me and because i bring shit like this to you. look!” with another long and suspiciously tooru-like sigh, issei took the crumpled paper from makki and immediately stopped in his tracks.

“makki... what the fuck is this?”

written in large pink letters and a flowery, borderline illegible font was the name, coffee and cunnilingus. upon further inspection and careful reading, it revealed itself to be a little cafe opening up about 10 minutes from issei’s apartment complex who were looking to hire “young, attractive men who are proficient at eating pussy.”

issei could feel his eyes narrow and his mouth drop open in shock as he repeated his question. “the fuck is this?”

makki shook his head excitedly, tapping to another portion of the flyer that matsukawa had not yet read. “no, no dude, just look at how much they’re paying per hour.” issei begrudgingly obliged but the minute his eyes touched the (Massive™) number, he felt a little faint.

it was a lot of money. more than the funeral home was paying, that’s for sure. with that kind of money he could move out of this suddenly dingy seeming apartment and into a nice flat in the city were he’d always wanted to live. maybe he could buy himself a nice watch or even a high-end suit to replace the one from his highschool graduation (aka the only suit he owns). with that kind of money, he could erase his student debt 3 years ahead of schedule and get his mom into a nicer place.

it was these thoughts that clouded issei’s head as he found himself standing in front of a cute looking building, matching the address on the flyer. i’ll only be working part time, he thought as he pushed the door open to reveal an equally impressing interior with curtained booths and a wide variety of coffee on the menu. i’m only doing it for extra money, he thought as he shook the owner’s hand after he finished his successful interview. no one can ever know, he thought as he dressed himself in the uniform on his first day.

thus began issei’s super secret side hustle where he ate women out for cash.

sounds worse when you say it outright but it was just working. he was good at it, the women liked him, and he was making BANK. still, there were challenges. some women refused to bathe before coming and he would have to send them to the restroom to freshen up which absolutely ruined his chances for a good tip. some women would become heavily infatuated with him, believing that they were in some sort of forbidden romance. he learned to turn them down quick and easy to avoid conflict in the workplace which furthered his space as a boss favorite. but his hardest challenge by far was meeting you.

you were one of hanamaki’s friends, having met him at one of his brief stints in retail on his search for a job. he had gotten fired but you both stayed in touch after he left, becoming really close, really fast.

issei had met you first when takahiro had invited you to the biweekly seijoh third-years movie night. at first, he had been pissed as an “outsider” had never been invited before and he was worried you’d ruin the vibe, especially since it was the first time in months that oikawa would be able to join them. makki vouched for you through and through and the other boys were okay with it so you were in. the second he met you, all his fears of awkwardness and discomfort faded away.

you were great.

you were hilarious, pretty, and could keep up with makki’s harsh jokes, tooru’s diva attitude, iwa’s tendency to hit (hard), and issei’s original disdain. by the end of the night, he had completely forgotten why he didn’t want you there in the first place.

from then on, you were a staple in their little friend group. you were added to the groupchat where you balanced memes with spouts of deep wisdom and you were ever so reliable, always there if any of them needed it.

yeah, you were great. that’s where the problems started.

issei’s feelings for you quickly went from platonic to romantic, faster than you can say godzilla. he hadn’t even recognized that he was falling for you until it was way too late. normally, he wouldn’t have a problem confessing to you but because of his newly found ...occupation, he was too nervous. how would you take it that he was basically a glorified prostitute? ok, that wasn’t exactly what he did but still! you’d probably find him disgusting and horrible and leave the friend group forever. then he’d have to deal with oikawa’s senseless whining and makki’s subtle digs, blaming him for your departure. yeah, he wasn’t going to put himself through that so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

too bad he didn’t have any control over makki’s.

you and takahiro had been on a little friend-date at mcdonald’s after you’d had a long and frustrating shift. you just wanted to vent, expressing your general hate for your job and desperate need for stress relief.

that’s when makki opened his (big, stupid) mouth and suggested that you visit a little place called coffee and cunnilingus. you nearly choked on your fries at the title before quickly pressing him for details. thankfully, he had the decency not to expose that issei worked there but he had not done a good enough job convincing you not to go there. not that it would’ve mattered. your curiosity was peaked and your libido was high so why not try out the weird cafe where you let a complete stranger stick his tongue inside you?

it was settled. you were going to go and you were going to get eaten out and you were going to like it!

or at least that is what you repeated in your head as you walked to the address on your phone before taking a deep breath and walking inside.

“hello, welcome to coffee and cunnilingus, how might i pleasure you this afterno— yn?” issei’s eyes widened as they met your equally bewildered ones, the both of you staring at each other in shock.

“matsukawa-san, is everything alright?” a large hand rested on issei’s shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts and forcing him to break (horrified) eye contact with you and move it onto his boss who was now looking down on him menacingly.

“y-yes sir, everything is fine!” he squeaked out, hating the way his voice cracked on his first syllable. his boss looked at him suspiciously but thankfully didn’t press.

“well, since nothing is wrong, take this beautiful young woman to a booth where you will assist her!” the hand resting on issei’s shoulder slowly squeezed, making him wince in pain. the pain was only an afterthought though to the larger implication of his boss’ words. he’s going to assist you. assist as in pleasure. pleasure as in eat you out.

holy shit, you were going to pass out.

apparently, issei had the same thought process as you, his face whitening like a sheet. “m-me? but sir i-“

“do your job matsukawa-san!” his boss cut him off with a forced smile. all issei could do was nod and silently lead you off to a closed booth near the back or lose his job. you stayed close behind him but remained quiet, absolutely terrified of breaking the silence and ruining the bubble you had created.

you finally reached the booth in question. issei gently opened the curtain and motioned for you to get it, to which you obliged and he followed just behind.

the moment the curtain closed, you were enveloped in an awkward silence and tense atmosphere, neither of you speaking or looking at one another for fear of one of you running out. after what felt like hours, you opened your mouth to speak, not realizing issei had thought the same thing.

“so-“

“i-“

you finally made eye contact with him and burst into the laughter, the tension quickly broken. it took a full minute or two for the both of you to calm down, the absurdity of the entire situation finally catching up with you.

“you first,” issei said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes while fixing you with an intense gaze swirled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but it made butterflies bubble up in your stomach. you quickly turned your gaze to the comfortable seat beneath you, your fingers playing with the red stitching while you thought of what you had wanted to say.

“are you any good?” your hand flew up to cover your mouth as your cheeks filled with heat, the embarrassment of your words catching up to you. you hadn’t meant to say that but when you opened your mouth to apologize, you were stopped in your tracks by the lovely sound of issei’s full-bodied laughter filling the tiny booth.

you had heard it just moments earlier but without the sound of your own giggles drowning it out, you couldn’t help but think that he sounded beautiful. you basked in the sound as it slowly trailed off back into silence. now it was you doing the staring making issei look off with a red face and a heart threatening to pound out of his chest.

“y-yeah i’m pretty good. you want to try? me, i mean?” his words nearly leave you gasping, your brain working overtime to try and comprehend what he was saying to you.

“only if y-you want to? what do you want issei?” you whispered, suddenly unable to find your voice. you wanted this to be okay for him too; you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable even though you wanted him more than you could verbally express. despite the embarrassment and fear of rejection lingering under your skin, you stared at him, awaiting his answer. a tiny minuscule nod came from him and you internally shook your head. you needed to hear him.

“i need you to say it, issei.” your words, while quiet, were firm and issei felt himself hardening in his uniform slacks. he swallowed in his increasingly drying mouth before opening his mouth to respond.

“i want to eat your pussy. can i?”

shit.

your own voice was stolen by his words and all you could give him was a nod before he was on you.

issei didn’t waste any time falling to his knees, pulling your panties down, and hiking your skirt up to your stomach, revealing your glistening folds to his hungering eyes.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” is all the warning you get before he’s licking a long stripe up you from entrance to clit before he’s sucking the hard, sensitive nub into his mouth. your eyes immediately rolled back into your head, your hips instinctively bucking up into his mouth while a gasped moan of issei left your lips.

if he could bottle your moans and use them whenever he pleased, he would, the sound sending another pulse of arousal to his already hard cock. he was tempted to reach down and pull himself out of his trousers but he denied himself. this was about you; you and your wet ass pussy.

issei continued his ministrations on your clit, circling it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth while his hand was ready to get busy. it crept up your thigh, sending shivers down your spine until it reached your sopping entrance, two of his fingers teasing the slit before delving in to the third knuckle.

the moan you let out is borderline animalistic as your body sends another wave of slick pulsing out over his hand. he groaned into your cunt at your tightness, his mind only imagining him deep within you while you squeeze him for all he’s got.

the amount of slick you produced made it easy for him to add a third finger, thrusting them in and out while also crooking them upwards in search for your special spot that would have you seeing stars. it took him a little prodding but he knew he found it when your back arched, your hand came down into his hair, and you whimpered out a string of curses.

“that’s it baby, cmon, you’re doing so well, wanna see you come apart for me,” he all but growled against your clit before delving back in with a higher intensity, his desperation for you to come winning out his desire to tease you and drag this out as long as possible.

with his incessant pressure on your g-spot and his lips suctioned around your clit, it wasn’t long before he got what he wanted.

“isseiisseiisseiissei, i’m coming, i’m coming-oh fuck!” you screamed as you clenched and gushed all over his fingers, your entire body caving in with the intensity of your orgasm. his fingers were practically forced from your spasming cunt but they quickly found a place rubbing your nub side to side as fast as possible. the overwhelming urge to pee came over you and you shook your head, trying to push his hand away.

“no, no, give it to me, i know you can,” issei groaned, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. the pleasure he was giving came to a head at his words and you felt a clear liquid escape from your tired, overstimulated cunt, your mouth opening in a silent moan before collapsing back on the seat.

the sight proved to be too much for issei as he felt his body tense, his own orgasm washing over him as he emptied himself into his boxers. he fell back onto the ground, in shock of himself coming entirely untouched. he’d never done it before but of course it was you that would bring it out of him. a smile spread across his face at the thought, his head tilting back as he laughed, catching the attention of your worn body.

“what’re y’laughing at?” you slurred, cringing a little at how fucked out you sounded but issei didn’t seem to mind, his face glowing while covered in your slick and cum.

“nothing, nothing, but uh, i have a question.” you felt your heart leap to your chest, your mind already racing with the possibilities. he’s going to say this was a mistake, that we’re just better off as friends. oh god, what if he says i stunk? or the worst pussy he’s ever had? or what if—

“want to go and get a coffee?” he asked, the smile still plastered on his face but with an uncharacteristic hint of shyness. the butterflies were back in your stomach as you shyly nodded before allowing him to help clean you up and standing, not missing how he slipped your lacy underwear deep into one of his pockets.

issei’s hand found its way into yours as he said goodbye to his coworkers and boss before leading you out of the cafe, watching you tell an animated retelling of the bullshit that occurred at your job with a warm grin on his face and pink cheeks.

it might not be like matsukawa issei to be embarrassed but if it resulted in getting you by his side? he would do it again and again.

[spockandawe]

I need to return to this with more focus later, but I want to assemble thoughts on Wei Wuxian as a foil for jin guangyao xue yang Su She. There’s a lot of... nuance in the fanyiyi translation that plain isn’t there or is masked by poor grammar in the exiledrebels translation, and it’s drawing a line under some of these parallels much more strongly than I’d realized. In particular, I’m reading about Biling Lake and Su She losing his sword because ‘well, lan-er-gongzi also....’ and

exiledrebels:

An embarrassed shade of red seeped through his pale complexion, as if he had been disgraced. He glimpsed at Lan Wangji, but Lan Wangji didn't look at him, and instead attentively observed the water.

fanyiyi:

Crimson blotches of shame peeked through Su She’s now blue-white skin. He looked at Lan Wangji as though the more talented boy had somehow insulted him, but Lan Wangji was busy scrutinizing the water and didn’t notice.

In exiledrebels, ‘disgraced’ is absorbed by the previous sentence, and it feels like he’s embarrassed either because of himself or because the other disciple called him out on acting prematurely. But in fanyiyi, the blame goes directly toward Lan Wangji, and even indicates that it’s not really a reasonable response. Now, I can’t read the original to judge which is more accurate, but given Su She’s behavior in the Burial Mounds especially, and his bitterness towards Lan Wangji in general, I’m really willing to credit the fanyiyi translation for nailing that.

And! The things that this suggests! I would say that the parallels between Wei Wuxian and Su She are weaker than between Wei Wuxian and some of these other characters, but it’s still very interesting. They were both non-blood-family members of a prominent sect (though su she is an outer disciple and wei wuxian is head disciple). Despite their sect not exactly wronging them in any way, they leave to make their own way and found their own home, and both struggle. Wei Wuxian. you know, dies horribly, and Su She gets insulted by Jin Zixun and is incredibly grateful to be shown basic respect by Jin Guangyao, and in the present day his sect still has a reputation for being knockoff Lan musicians. 

This comparison jumped out at me in particular, because the story has just spent a LOT of time on Wei Wuxian being very determinedly ignored by Lan Wangji, even when they’re spending extended amounts of time alone in a quiet library environment. Wei Wuxian is >:O but not insulted, and only becomes extra determined to pester Lan Wangji into paying attention to him. On the other hand, Su She accidentally compares himself to Lan Wangji, gets upset about it, and remains upset years later that he’s apparently beneath Lan Wangji’s notice, while Lan Wangji is busy trying to figure out what the hell is in the water. 

I have already said more than I meant to before collecting my thoughts, lmao. But this is really interesting to me, because before I’d only really considered Su She as a parallel to Lan Wangji, and never compared him to Wei Wuxian. I don’t want to pin this down as my only conclusion, but right now, I’m especially fascinated by the number of characters that I can straightforwardly compare to Wei Wuxian this way (Su She, Jin Guangyao, Xue Yang), and how consistently those are characters who meet a bad end. I think it says something about how narrow the path that Wei Wuxian walked to happiness was. If he’d been a little less able to shrug off insults, if his mother hadn’t been a renowned cultivator, if he hadn’t been adopted by a rich family... Or if he’d been a little less powerful, if his family hadn’t loved him so much, if his lover hadn’t been willing to accept the terrible things he’d done and love him anyways... There are so many ways where if Wei Wuxian had been slightly, slightly more at a disadvantage, if he’d been less lucky and less loved, everything could have ended in tragedy.

[allhailthewicked]

Random JATP Headcannon: The Wilson’s and Street Food

Do you ever think about how after the boy’s death Bobby was probably extremely weary of all take-out, street food, and basically all food that he can’t see how it is prepared? Because I do! SO I decided to write a headcannon about it.

I mean my man watched his three brothers die a horribly painful death because they wanted to have a quick bite to eat. Don’t think about how he was probably the person who found them dying from food poisoning, in excruciating pain probably scared out of their goddamn minds. Don’t think about him clutching their bodies sobbing. Don’t think about how Bobby 100% most definitely didn’t eat anything for the next few days after the guys’ death. Don’t think about how he was probably too scared to trust any foods that he doesn’t make himself. But honestly, he is terrible at cooking that was Reggie’s and Alex’s jobs. I mean he can make a couple of Filipino recipes that his Lola taught him how to make like halo-halo, adobo, liempo sinigang rice.

Then eventually, he started to eat again, well not exactly, I mean Dr. Crystal seemed hopeful. But like he would go to restaurants with like multiple EFFING Michelin Stars and like refuse the food because he’s so scared that he might choke, or get food poisoning and die like the others. Like he low-key throws a tantrum because he is freaking and upsets the chef, but can you blame him?

Without any contexts the public and gossip magazines were like:

 “woah I know he’s a rock star but what a spoiled brat”

“TREVOR WILSON: A FOOD SNOB?!?!”

 “I Can’t Believe (It’s Not Butter sorry back to the headcannon lol) That This Rising Star Threw His Soup at the Chef a Michelin Star Restaurant”

(It was completely by accident btw!!! The matching friendship ring with the guys fell in the soup and he didn’t want to lose another part of his friends. So he started to rush to the bathroom with the soup to find the ring and fix it. .....and the chef just happened to be right behind.....and the gazpacho just happened to spill all over him. But he did get the ring so..... that’s good!!! But he also cried a bunch washing the tomato off of it tho)

Rose started to swing by his house every couple of days with bags full of ingredients and she checks in with him as she is making classic Puerto Rican comfort foods. She quickly realized that his vegetarianism wasn’t a lie and adjusted the recipes that she grew up with to suit his needs. Rose also realizes that if Bobby doesn’t know how a certain food is made and if he can’t see all the ingredients that went into it then he would refuse to eat it. So she fell into a pattern where she would cook at his mansion as he looks over her shoulder seeing how she make the dishes, sadly laughing at the terrible dad jokes she makes. (The jokes remind him of the one Reggie use to make)

Rose “The Queen of Meal Prepping Before Meal Prepping was Popular” makes enough food the next couple of days. Together they would sit down together to enjoy a meal. Rose just tells him it was to  make sure that she made the recipe correctly. But really it was to ease his anxiety about eating and to prove that the food isn’t poison. However, deep down it was to also show him that it is okay to make new friends and the boys probably would have wanted him to at least try to move on a little. Quickly Rose discovered that his favorite dishes are arroz con gandules (basically white rice with peas and olives), mofongo (think like mashed potatoes but with plantains), and some many pasteles and empanadas. And even after Julie and Carrie were born they have family dinners once per week that Rose cooked.

Well I mean until her chemo started of course because that when the roles started to reverse..... (but I’ve given y’all enough angst today, so that’s a story for another time)

I mean at some point he probably had to learn how to cook for himself and Carrie or at the very least he goes to a restaurant that personally shows him how the food is prepared/ he can see most of the steps on how it is prepared. Like one time The number of professional chefs my manz personally knows is ridiculous!!! I mean once he became FILTHY LIKE DIRTY LIKE I WOULD EAT HIM rich he definitely got a personal chef to either meal prep or cooks meals for both him and Carrie.

Bobby had one of the worst anxiety attacks of his life (I mean other than when he found out the guys died) when Carrie was 7. She went to Flynn’s birthday party at an arcade and found out that she ate cheese pizza and hot dogs (I mean Lukie, Lexington, and Reg died from street glizzies for fuck’s sake). Sobbing he called Rose freaking out as he drove Carrie (who was blissfully ignorant singing along to the Kidz Bop CD she got from the party favor) to the ER. “Rose I can’t lose another person who I love” Rose right before she had to perform at a gig she convinced him to turn around and go back home.

This is @iamthefryiestfrench-blog genius idea and I love it so, so much but Carrie and Bobby definitely started to cook dinner together like a couple times a week as Father-Daughter bonding time. Well until Carrie started to get super busy with Dirty Candy and before Trevor started touring again at that point they started to drift away. Fights started to happen more frequently. Carrie started to get more and more take-out to spite Trevor, but she didn’t realize that Trevor stopped eating again. A major fight erupted after Trevor passed out from hunger a couple of weeks after the Orphuem concert.

 “Carrie sweetie it is NOT DRUGS”

“Then why did I walk in to you knocked out on the floor” 

“I just hadn’t had time to eat today mahal”

“Dad do not lie to me! I cannot lose another person who I love. I can’t Dad. I’m going to call Dr. Crystal!!!”

And that was when the truth was revealed...

Carrie’s channel is slowly started to be sponsored by hello fresh, cookunity, or blue apron every single week without fail. Both of them wouldn’t admit it, but this was her offering the olive branch and Trevor took it IMMEDIATELY. (He missed cooking with his little girl). And in the sponsorship ad you would see Trevor cooking a meal with his hair in little pigtails with pink scrunchies.

Of course, they get the vegetarian meals and if you use here promo code “DIRTYCANDI10” then you can get up to 10 meals for free!!! So thank you so much Hello Fresh for sponsering today’s video!!!

It took almost 25 years but cooking with Carrie again made things feel almost alright again and that’s all Bobby could have asked for.

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading this it was really fun to write :) (because I love to write pain lmao) But please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist down below by either replying to this post, reblogging this post, or sending me an ask! I would appreciate reblogs and feedback because I love reading your guy's comments and tags they seriously make my day but it's fine if you don't want to :)!!!

~✨My Taglist is Under the Cut Lol✨~

@poppin-peters, @sunset-bobby, @theobligatedklutz, @soupforfree, @iamthefryiestfrench-blog

[hawthornewhisperer]

Tagged by @bgonemydear

How many works do you have on AO3?

An even 100, and honestly it's gonna kill me to add a new fic because I am a slut for round numbers. They're just so satisfying, you know?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,027,603 which is...so many words

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Technically seven (again, so many, considering I only started writing fic like, 6 years ago) but The White Princess and Gilmore Girls each only have one fic a piece, so they barely count.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

(I'm leaving out ficlet collections, because those don't really count and each has approximately 1 billion chapters, which makes them rack up the kudos like crazy)

afraid to call this place our own (bellarke, and you know what, this is probably my best work so I'm glad the fandom agrees)

call it what you want (dramione, and oh my GOD this fandom is HUGE, I was not prepared)

on the importance of names (bellarke, this one always surprises me because I put like, zero thought into it but hey I guess people like secret baby/single parents?)

the second hand unwinds (bellarke, and this is the one I pretend canon ended on, thankyouverymuch)

don't let the days go by (bellarke, wow my fic titles are terrible I had to check what this one was even about, it's the sex bet one)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I was raised by a woman who insisted I write thank you notes for every single present I ever got so yes, I respond to comments, otherwise I will be consumed by guilt.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't really do angsty endings, honestly. But the way we used to be is probably my angstiest fic overall? At least I think so, anyway.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really, no. I did write a crackfic for my friend jeeno once that was Giles-from-Buffy/Minerva McGonagall, but that was like, 100 words.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

lmao I wrote bellarke but didn't want either Lexa or Echo to die horribly so yeah, I got it from like, every possible side, it was a fucking nightmare 0/10 do not recommend

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

almost exclusively, tbh. I feel like I have cheated my readers if a fic is rated anything less than an M and will usually figure out how to work smut in SOMEWHERE, and it's usually fairly explicit.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not as far as I know

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so?

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I'm not going to write fic for them, but probably Han/Leia. They are the original Enemies To Lovers template for me.

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I started an art thief!draco and interpol!hermione fic that was really great for like 6k words and then I realized how much fucking plot it would require and bailed. It had some great banter, though.

What are your writing strengths?

Banter and dialogue, for sure.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm an underwriter/I only write the bare essentials, which means I'm constantly re-reading old fics and realizing I'm missing like, whole scenes.

Also description. It's a horse, use your imagination, don't make me do all the work.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Haven't done full dialogue, I don't think. I have used some words in foreign languages when it seems appropriate, but I usually check with a native speaker to make sure it's right.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Hunger Games (Gale/Madge, fandom of my heart, I love y'all dearly)

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Honestly, it's the single mom!Clarke/teacher!bellamy one (afraid to call this place our own) but because I've already talked about that, I'll say the land was godless and free, because goddamn do I love things set on the prairies in the 1930s and yes I know exactly how specific that is, don't @ me.

I'll tag @mightbewriting and @niffizzle!

[cookinguptales]

hey @shaymeson I’m replying to your tags on my charmed life post AGAIN because I could talk about these dumbasses FOREVER

#Starting my re-read today #getting your blow by blow was BRILLIANT #and JANET #the Chrestomanci household ain't shit - you tell 'em Janet #a bit of a sidebar but- #with how well DWJ writes horrible children I think that's why we don't get many adaptations of her books #when they finally adapted Artemis Fowl they stripped ALL of his terrible qualities which was his ENTIRE CHARACTER #people don't know how to write kids full stop #and god forbid they let them have flaws or personalities

----------------------

Okay so NUMBER ONE feel free to yell at me just as much as I yelled at you because I LOVE readalongs. I have to start Magicians of Caprona soon. Tonino!! My other child!!

And you’re absolutely right, honestly. I was actually thinking about that as I was reading, how surprising it is that they never did any kind of adaptation of the Chrestomanci books. They’re fairly popular, there’s a lot of material there, etc. But I did do Math this time and I realized that damn, these characters are young. Like in Charmed Life, Chrestomanci wrote Frank and Caroline Chant that letter about making sure their kids would be born sans magic 12 years ago, so both Gwendolen and Cat have to be under 12. Cat is probably around 10 and Gwen is probably around 11, which is a pretty awful age to be doing what she’s doing to him. (And it means she put him in the matchbook when she was five!) As you know, my own experiences with my own sister make me know it’s sure possible to have a sister that age try to murder you! lmao. But I can see why Netflix would shy away from it.

There really is a specific childishness to Gwen’s malice, too. I realized it more upon reread. None of the grand plans are her own, and she’s being used by wicked adults who feed into her narcissism. That letter she left for Janet really hammered home that she’s just a kid. A really fucking malevolent one! But a child. And you have to wonder if she’d have been half so horrible if their parents hadn’t just let her steal her brother’s magic and torment him, or if they hadn’t died and left her to a village that told her her shit didn’t stink. As it is, though, now she’s just spiteful and selfish and greedy.

And then Tonino over here is even younger at probably 9ish, maybe even as young as 8. And while I think Magicians of Caprona is a little less heavy than some of the other books, some of the puppet show stuff is downright body horror. He and Angelica are good kids, and it sucks seeing good kids get uhhh tortured.

And then there’s WITCH WEEK which is about CHILDREN getting EXECUTED. (And I just found out that apparently how old the kids in this are changes by edition?? They range from 11-13 depending on which version you got.) And there’s that scene with Charles purposefully putting his finger in the fire to remind himself that it hurts to burn??? THAT’S A LOT TO SHOW IF THE KID IS 11...

I do feel like if Netflix ever made an adaptation or whatever, there’s a very good chance that they’d age up all the children. It’s hard to think of children being as nasty as some of them are in this series. (I’m particularly looking at Gwen, Christopher (much as I love him), and Charles.) I am very, very aware that some kids are nasty like the ones she writes. I think she’s actually really good at writing children being terrible in a very specifically childish way. And, in the case of Christopher, I think she’s really good at writing children understanding the effects of their actions and changing in a realistic way, too.

Like I said before, I always felt like she was not condescending to me when I was a child. It’s like she understood that some children are nice and some are awful and some are just trying to get by. I think I connected to that strongly when I was Cat’s & Tonino’s age! But no, it is not advertiser friendly. lmao

[cryinginthebackseat]

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.  

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

                                                         fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel​ @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass​ @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

[kimnjss]

grand gesture | ksj

⤑  series: sugar free

⤑ genre: angst, rich!jin x artist!reader, college au.

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 1.5K

⤑ warnings: there aren’t any, lmao.

⤑ A/N: this is a bit short, but it’s straight to the point and meant to be that way!! just felt like this part worked better written then told through text, so yeah you’ll see what i mean! let me know what you think x

A full week passed. A full week of ignored gifts being dumped on your front porch. You were seriously considering selling them, no desire to collect his half ass-ed apology. This was the exact reason why you were hesitant to get involved with him in the first place. He was exactly like how you thought he'd be.

Of course, he'd approach you on a bet. Of course, this would all be about money. It was all that kid cared about. The way he was flaunting it, trying to buy your forgiveness was proof enough. Did he not get it? Was he that dim?

The only thing that bothered you about this whole situation was the time you wasted hanging around him. All that time you could've used working on projects or perfecting your craft... spent and wasted with the hope of trying to get to know the guy. What a waste.

Despite the constant interruption of a knock at your front door, you had decided that you were going to use all this new free time to concentrate on your art. Summoning all the inspiration you could to create... something. It actually was harder than you thought, feeling unbelievably uninspired and a little bit sad.

From your friends, you had requested they didn't pop in whenever they wanted. Felt like you'd work better if you had a chance to be alone. What you didn't realize was that with all this alone time you really had a chance to evaluate your feelings... what you had been suppressing since that night out with Jin.

It had been obvious to the people around you, but you refused to listen. It was hard to ignore now. You were a bit sad, to be honest. It had been a while since you were able to let go and actually enjoy being around someone... romantically, and you hadn't expected it at first but you really were starting to like him.

Things were comfortable around him, he was funny in a nice way, cared a lot about keeping things light, and actually listened when you ranted about whatever was bugging you at the time. It had only been a few weeks spent with him, two dates in that time but you really enjoyed yourself.

A little bummed that it had to end this way. Couldn't help but wonder if you had overreacted, if you should have listened when he tried to text you about it. Stopped being so stubborn and forgave him like everyone had said that you should. Maybe then you wouldn't be this miserable, suffering from this horrible artist's block, you didn't even know if you were holding your paintbrush correctly.

The welcomed knock on your door had you standing a little too quickly, ready to ditch this blank canvas and see whatever had been sent your way. Nothing came in yesterday and you had assumed he got the hint... hoped he hadn't.

There's an arch in your brow at the lack of delivery man at your front door. With confusion written in your features, you're putting the front door open; eyes landing on a sad-looking Seokjin. He's dressed casually, opposite of the expensive tops and form-fitting jeans he usually put on. Pair of joggers and a plain t-shirt. The change was nice, made him look younger.

He shifted on his feet, hands behind his back eyes trained on his sneakers. You had to fight the smile that pushed it's way onto your lips, happy to see him standing in front of you – but quickly reminding yourself why he had to show up like this in the first place. Main priority was to be strong in this situation, figure out what he was doing here and deal with it. Not swoon and go all heart-eyed just because he showed up.

He should've shown up before all of this.

“What are you doing here? No ridiculously expensive coat to add to the donation pile?” Jin shifts at the sound of your voice, lifting his head to look up at you. He looks sad that you can't help but wonder if you're being a bit mean to him.

Although, him betting on your sex life was pretty mean in itself, right? Getting you to like him just to turn around and make you apart of some sick joke, that's mean.

“N-no, no gifts... they weren't working anyway,” He sighs, arm reaching up to rub at the back of his neck in the awkward way you notice he was always doing. Couldn't believe you had started to find the action cute.

“Yeah, sucks. You can't buy someone's forgiveness,” There's bite in your tone but he doesn't flinch, just looks down nodding his head. “Yeah, I deserve that. I shouldn't have treated this like some business transaction. I hurt you... I should've manned up and came to you.”

You're reading to rip into him again until his words are registering in your mind. Did he come here to... apologize? Eyes blinking as you stare at him, Jin takes your silence as a sign he should continue.

“Yn, I'm sorry. I hate that I fucked with you like that and even more that you're upset. I know you won't forgive me, I'm not expecting you to... I just figured I should at least say it, like for real, you know? We were having a good time together and I really like you, so I owe you at least a proper apology.”

There's a warmth that spreads throughout your body at hearing his words. Not sure if it was from the apology or the fact that he had just told you... to your face, that he liked you. What you had been wanting to hear this entire week was an explanation from him, not through text and not in the form of some designer shoes... like a real explanation. Could see yourself forgiving him if he gave you that.

“Why'd you do it?” Your voice is quieter than you remember as if you're afraid of the reason. Either way, you don't back down. Staring straight at him as if you're strong, waiting to hear what he has to say. “Because I liked you. And I know how stupid that sounds, but I was too chicken shit to do something about it... so I just used the bet as an excuse,”

Jin had said that you didn't have to forgive him, but that didn't stop the hopeful look in his eyes. Watching as you tossed his words around in your head, waiting for that smile of yours to appear as you told him that it was all okay. That you forgave him and if he promised he never did something stupid like this again, you two could go back to falling for each other as you had been before.

It didn't come. Instead, you were just nodding, taking a step back into your house. “Alright, well... thanks for coming here and apologizing.”

“So that's it?” The words are falling from his lips before he has a chance to stop them. Not realizing how expectant they sound, how he had promised himself he wouldn't act that way at this moment because he knew you hated it. “I mean... were you thinking we could, maybe, try again?” You can hear the hope in his voice and you don't miss it.

Did you want to try again? Let him in all over again as he attempted to break down your walls, he had done a pretty good job at it before. Were you ready for all that? All that came with being with him... like actually being with him. Before it had been different, you weren't sure of your feelings then, but now, you knew that you'd want more from him. An actual relationship. Would he even be able to do that?

“Was that what you were hoping for? Why you came by to apologize?” He's shaking his head before the words can fully leave your mouth.

“No, I came here because you deserved a proper apology because I was sick of being a coward about all of this. I want to be with you because... well because you're amazing and I don't want to miss out on that,” He's offering a small smile up to you, one you're returning almost instantly.

Still, there's something holding you back, but you're unable to place it. Needed to figure out what it was before you were leaping into a relationship with the guy. “Could I...? Could I think about it?”

“Yes, yeah!” The smile on his lips grows as he steps off of your porch, mission accomplished. “Take all the time you need to think about it... you can call me when you decide? My numbers the same!” You can't help but laugh at his quick shift of demeanor, the way he basically runs down your driveway before you can change your mind.

You stand and watch the entire time he jogs down the street until he's ducking into his car, and speeding off with a wave out the window. A hand lifts to wave back, heart thudding in your chest as you stepped back into your house. About to give this situation some serious thought... were you really going to be able to handle being with Kim Seokjin?

– rich, spoiled and a bit of a womanizer. but underneath all of that, there’s a heart of gold. and no matter how determined she is to reject him, he won’t stop trying until she sees he’s kinda sweet.

↲ masterlist ↳

taglist: @randomkoalablog​​​ @smoljams​​​ @dee-ehn​​​ @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​​ @lilacdreams-00​​​ @sw33tnight​​​ @bangtansonyeondayyyum​​​ @okblve​​​ @jinhitwhore​​​ @tae165​​​ @hellotherehoneybee​​​ @bangtansbun​​​ @betysotelo18​​​ @cherriigguk​​​ @koostime​​​ @kooinluv​​​ @butterflylion​​​ @kookiesjoonies​​​ @uxwi​​​ @honeyoongles​​​ @imajiningseokjin​​​ @amoreguk​​​ @beeeb05​​​ @tommasauras​​​ @bluefaeriefury​​​ @butterflylion​​​ @withlovestudyblr​​​ @samros95​​​ @korkanswers​​​ @houseofarmanto​​​ @soulstaes​​​ @thesunisup-theskyisblue​​​ @jinsearth​​​ @aizuwusho​​​ @moonb0yy​​ @tan-dulset​​ @8sjaf​​​ @mini-coop25​​​ @marifujioka​​​ @sunskook​​​ @elliemeetsevil​​ @ratking101​​ @leovaldezisfire​​​ @greyaceupyoursleeve​​ @emmy17jane​​

A/N: timestamps are important throughout the fic!! if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask! also if you asked to be on the taglist and aren’t on there, it’s because tumblr sometimes doesn’t let me tag ppl for some reason.

[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 6--On the Inside

Very appropriate title by the way.  Works in a multitude of ways.  

As always, my randomness is going beneath a cut again to spare the eyeballs of those of you that don’t want to see it at all and also?  Help those of you that have somehow stayed spoiler-free in this brand-new age of early release episodes.  It is still so wild to me that I’m a full episode ahead of half the fandom.  I don’t know what I’m going to do when we get to the final episode and they decide to make us all suffer together--because somehow I do feel they will do exactly that after spoiling us for the first 23 episodes.  It is going to be agonizing.  

Anyway.  Without further ado, Shae’s stream of consciousness review (of sorts).  

Not fair, Angela.  Opening the episode with that shot of that big ass spider.  I hate those suckers.  So naturally, they’re an easy sell for setting the horror scene to me, lol.  

Okay.  Who the hell’s chasing Virgil and Connie?  Walker No-See-Ums?

Barely a minute in and the atmosphere for this episode is moody AF.  

What is this?  Tara Jr. The Walking Dead?  LOL.  Where’s the Scarlett for this mini plantation house?  Anyway.  First three minutes of this episode?  Just as attention grabbing as the first five episode openings this season.  I don’t think people out there are giving our writers enough love for that.  Every episode so far has opened like a mini movie.  

With the way the Walking Dead logo keeps crumbling away with each successive episode, somehow it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the Carol and Daryl spinoff was eventually titled The Living and had flowers growing out of each letter, lol.  I mean, there would be a certain sort of life-affirming symmetry in a show that’s been promised to be much lighter in tone doing just that.  

More Carol and Aaron?  Yes, please.  I don’t necessarily like Carol staying at home and sitting the sidelines like a figurative happy little homemaker in the B story while the rest of the mains are trying like hell to sell the A story, but if she’s going to be totally prohibited from the main storyline until it’s time to blow shit up?  I’m going to continue enjoy getting to see her do what she should have been doing for seasons--interacting with others in the community, especially Aaron and the ladies.  

Truly.  I really am loving my girl getting some quality Aaron and Rosita time.  It’s so long overdue.  

Bless sweet Kelly.  Riding off to her sister’s rescue.  

Why isn’t Lydia shown as part of these plans?  For someone that could barely read last season, I doubt that big ass map was a piece of cake for her and it’s all just guesswork anyway without her guidance.  I mean, why does it feel like they are cutting some of this stuff that might not seem like much plot-wise but would go a long way toward establishing different character beats?  Personally, I would have loved to see her involved in the search and sharing scenes again with Carol and bonding with Kelly. 

Virgil be having that “I always feel like somebody’s watching me” feeling.  Don’t you hate that, lol?  

“You haven’t slept in days.”  But how many days, Virgil?  I’m going to need a number because I’m confused AF about this timeline at this point.  What we’re seeing and what different pieces of dialogue is telling us is not exactly lining up.  I’m going to find it awful hilarious if it hasn’t even been two weeks since the cave in.  For reasons.  

Connie’s spidey senses are clearly tingling.  

Alrighty, then.  She’s clearly got PTSD.  Understandable.  They’ve all had it.  Some have been treated more sympathetically than others, though.  

I mean, it never seems to cross anybody’s mind how Carol probably sees Henry’s head on that pike, Mika’s pale and bloody body, Lizzie crumpled face down in a bed of yellow flowers, Sophia with a smoking bullet hole through her undead head whenever she closes her eyes but whatever.  

Okay though.  But what if Connie had really shitty, impossible to read handwriting?  AKA doctor’s  handwriting.  What then?  

Leah’s face honestly twists my insides whenever I see it, lol.  It’s quiet a visceral thing.  No, that does not make me a horrible person.  Not everybody wants or has to drink the awesome, great, redeemable villainess Kool-Aid.  IMHO, she’s got a face meant for a Walker.  Perfect makeover idea.  Eh.  Mostly it’s her expression and the deadness of her eyes.  

Anyway.  Why is it always the fingers?  Eff that.  

Listen.  If ya’ll can’t tell Daryl’s conflicted AF with the situation he’s landed in, you don’t know how to read NR’s face and eyes.  He’s not a masterclass like MMB but he’s pretty darn good when he wants to be.  

I honestly feel sorry for Redshirt Frost.  

“You do what you gotta do.”  Frost knows what’s what and he’s willing to walk the walk for Maggie.  Impressive loyalty.  I’m left wondering how the current, colder incarnation of Maggie inspired it because I’m still struggling to see it.  Anywho.  My point is the dude knows the score and just gave Daryl the okay.  

Daryl taking off his angel vest before stepping into the role of torturer/interrogator=him shedding the persona/the man Judith and RJ and Lydia and Carol know him to be.  Pushing away his man of honor status so he can just survive somehow.  

Pope never quits chewing whatever the hell he’s got in his mouth.  It’s kind of distracting.  

Ohhh.  We’re back to the Haunted Mansion.  I mean house.  Where are the Hitchhiking Ghosts?  

All the eyes scratched out of those creepy pictures=spooky.  

The good old fogged up bathroom mirror shot.  Somebody’s been watching and studying their horror movies, lol.  Not gonna lie though.  I’m legit bracing myself for the jump scares I know have to be coming.  

I’m loving the music/score in these scenes.  

Truthfully, I could care less about these Reapers.  But they are hella attractive, lol.  Listen.  Angela knows what she’s doing.  

Kelly’s horse is so pretty.  Prayer chain for that baby.  

More dead horses?  Why?  

Connie’s slingshot?  Sorry.  I maintain, no matter how much I like these two, that they have the lamest weapons ever.  Endless supply of Virginia rocks or not.  

So.  Did Virgil and Connie enjoy a little equine for dinner?  Did they kill it before the Walkers fed?  What monsters!  Yeah, no.  Not if they were starving even if I personally could not have.  The more probable story is they fled the camp in a panic and left the horse behind and then it went down.  Sorry.  I didn’t exactly study the wounds on the poor animal because it is so traumatizing to me to continue to see them meet such dastardly ends on this show.  I don’t know who the hell has such a score to settle with horses but stop it.  

Days.  It’s only been days.  Not weeks.  So many times with all that Daryl and Company have had to contend with since the cave in?  Those do not exist, lol.  They’re just a convenient, appeasing piece of dialogue thrown at a fanbase primed and ready to read everything into not much of anything.  There’s just not been enough time for it to happen unless Daryl has literally been up 24/7 for all of them.  You know, strategizing how to attack the remainders of Alpha’s horde, figuring out how to defend Hilltop before it fell, healing from the wound he sustained at Alpha’s hand, sitting on that log all damn night with Negan waiting on Carol to come home, having a lover’s quarrel with his best damn everything, taking care of the Grimes babies and Lydia, being the reluctant leader.  Kang, why you playing them like that?  Daryl’s a super guy but he’s not a superhuman with clones.  So many times my ass.  

Seriously.  Who been watching Connie and Virgil?  The MIA Oceansiders?  Beta’s Fee Fi Fo Fum Ghost?  

Nice.  A Michonne mention.  Maybe the truth will start to trickle out.  

LMAO at Connie’s “I’m not staying here.”  Me neither, girl.  I would be outta that house so fast.  

They really “Quiet Placing” this episode.  Honestly?  I’m kinda loving it.  

WTF was that?  I know she can’t hear but you telling me all the little hairs on her arms, legs, and neck didn’t stand the fuck up and say fuck this shit, I’m gone?  Pardon my language, lovelies, but that moment had my heart kicking up several beats.  

Okay, okay.  To be fair to Connie, every hair on her body been doing that since the front door closed.  Maybe they’re desensitized.  

Gollum’s chasing Connie!!!  He/She wants their Precious!!!

The knee jerk reactions about this episode sight unseen are OTT, honestly.  And I mean no disrespect by saying that.  I can understand completely where they’re coming from because we’ve been burned so long in this fandom.  But it’s obvious the spoiler source has their particular biases and reads into things in such a way that don’t line up with what’s actually being shown onscreen.  Daryl’s loyalty in this episode and all along quite clearly lies with his family and his community.  He’s been playing Leah since the start and is truly just trying to survive somehow.  

Awful thought.  The Reaper that’s so suspish of Daryl--haven’t quite caught his name or really cared to.  I feel like he might try to get to Daryl somehow.  When he realizes that Daryl cares no more for Leah than any human would care for somebody (they thought) they used to know?  He’s going after Dog.  Or Carol should she finally join this story. 

I refuse to believe Carol isn’t going to be a part of this story.  Because they messing with her mans, lol.  

“You’re ever with us or you’re not.”  Now where have I heard those words before?  I wish I could find that Daryl gif because that had to be one of the funniest things ever, lol.  

Unrealistic suggestion to Daryl, Leah?  Breathing oxygen seems to piss off Carver.  Oh look.  He finally has a name for me, lol.  

I love how all three of the ladies--Carol, Magna, and Rosita--look at Kelly with such indulgent, adoring “little sis, you alright?” eyes.  

They are seriously the most beautiful quartet of characters.  I mean all of them are lovely but Carol and Rosita this season?  Ugh.  The unfairness of the pretty.  

Human bones.  Terminus callback, lovelies.  How it all would have eventually gone down if Gareth and Co. hadn’t met the business end of Rick’s red machete.  

So many horror movie homages in this one.  

Virgil’s like “let’s leave this Texas Chainsaw Massacre behind.”  

Connie and Virgil have obviously bonded, ya’ll.  I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying their scenes together when the character mostly got on my nerves with Michonne.  He’s a good actor and the core of his character is sympathetic, but I’m not going to lie.  I wasn’t super enthused when he was the one that rescued Connie because I didn’t know how their scenes would play out. But there’s a nice synergy there.  

Okay.  Does Carver want Leah for himself?  Because I’m sure Daryl at this point would love to scream “take her, I know where I fucking belong!”  

Daryl’s digging in deep because Carver has shown him Leah’s potential weak spot.  Nuance is truly lost on some people, LMAO.  He cares about Leah as a human being probably.  He’s Daryl, after all.  The sweet one.  But he sees her as his way outta this and he’s going to exploit it.  

It’s nice to have a silent Negan for once, lol.  I can pretend he didn’t take my baby Glenn away from me and enjoy JDM’s pretty.  

So.  These cannibal people were the watchers?  Hmm.  

I’m really digging Virgil 2.0.  Yeah.  Nobody’s surprised more than me.  

Sweet, sweet scene between Virgil and Connie.  His determination to reunite her with her family brings back the sympathy I felt for him when he told Michonne “I promised her flowers.  Every day.”  

Damn.  How many of those creepy crawly cannibals are there?  

How brave of Connie to confront her fears to save someone she’s obviously grown to care about.  

The Kelly/Connie reunion gave me chills and made me cry.  Thank fuck Angela didn’t cheapen that moment by having it focus on literally anybody else.  Kelly is the most important person in the whole world to Connie and vice versa.  Just like Carol is the most important person in the whole world to Daryl and vice versa.  Angela fucking knows.  Everybody does.  Except the people busy building castles out of sand while the waves of Carol’s and Daryl’s converging stories keep crashing closer and closer to shore.  

Such a beautiful moment given to us by Angel Theory and Lauren Ridloff.  So authentic and sweet.  Kelly and Connie are home to each other.  

Poor Frost.  That’s all I gotta say about that.  

WTF, though.  Was Mel just not available or what?  I want to see more of the ASZ characters that I care about, not the Reapers.  Like I’d be fine with the story if all the characters not named Maggie, Negan, or Daryl weren’t surviving on crumbs during it.  Especially the 2nd billed actress on the entire show.  Angela.  Please.  Fix this.  

One last WTF.  Seriously.  WTF has Maggie done to inspire Pope’s obsession?  It better be juicy after all this shit.  

Overall impression of the episode--

One of my favorites of the season so far.  The horror aspects were fantastic, IMHO. I truly didn’t expect to like Connie and Virgil’s scenes as much together so that was a nice surprise.  She got the reunion that felt most true and earned for the character and her story and I thank Angela from the bottom of my heart for that.  

I would have loved more Carol but I always want more Carol.  I’m okay with her taking a backseat because ultimately?  This was Kelly’s moment with her sister.  Carol and Connie will eventually have their time to sit down and talk.  And pick back up their blossoming friendship because I truly do not feel Connie blames Carol at all.  

I do wish Lydia had been included with the girl group.  Last episode felt like it was leading up to that.  

The Reaper storyline continues to be the weakest link because every time we see them the dialogue and interactions feel totally recycled from the time previous.  I feel like it would have totally been helped by a tighter focus and less stretching out because 8 episodes of this is really diluting what I feel like Angela and Co. are going for.  I’m not here for Leah being redeemed or being a bigger focus in any of the episodes because she does nothing of interest for me.  I’m just peeking in on that story for the Daryl of it all.  

Speaking of the Daryl? You lovelies out there gotta stop taking that spoiler source’s recaps at face value because it’s obvious to me at least that there’ some bias at work.  Every action and word coming from Daryl is coming from a place of loyalty to his family and wanting to protect them, no matter how he has to dirty his hands.  Leah is just a means to his ultimate end.  She’s not his future.  She never was.  His future’s already spoken for and 2023 can’t get  here soon enough.  But like Daryl, we have to just survive somehow.  

Oh goodie.  More Maggie and Negan next episode and looks like no real follow up on Connie and the ASZ reunions.  Hopefully, this is yet another instance of the previews being deceiving but I’m not holding my breath.  

Until later, lovelies.  

Hope my word vomit didn’t bore you too much.  

[stedefaest]

Denethor sucks* and puts a geis on his eldest son and Boromir deserves better, the meta

* Denethor II was actually a fantastic steward (this is noted!! “He was proud, tall, wise, far-sighted, and valiant; "more kingly" than any of his predecessors for a long time. He proved a masterful lord and a great ruler, seeing to all things large and small under his command”), and the movies skew this, but the fact still stands that all of the below facts still exist and I don’t have the time to do a full analysis of Why Denethor Is the Way He Is, but know that the movies sure did a number on his character and then subsequently on Boromir and Faramir, and you can be a great ruler but a horrible parent, and there were Some Fundamental Things about Raising Children that Denethor just did not understand and that is VERY obvious

hOGh so Boromir does have problems with his father, and a lot because Denethor is the worst* lmao, while only about 10% of Boromir's list of problems (in his mind) with his father are related to things that have happened to him (the other 90% being Denethor's neglect of Faramir), the things that Denethor did to his eldesst son are, perhaps unintentional, but REALLY AWFUL. 

Boromir knows that so much of his mentality is because of his father pushing him, and his father wanted him to be a certain way and surpRISE!!! Psychology works in a way that rewarded behaviors will be repeated it’s called classical conditioning, but it doesn’t mean that Boromir doesn’t realize that being the way he is and acting the way he does has also denied him a lot of other life experiences, 

I’d like to point out that Boromir's 41 years of life were basically uh. well, what he did was “save people and be a hero,” but in many ways, he wasn’t living. He wasn’t doing things for himself, he was doing them for others — out of a deep love for others, but also out of a deep fear of what would happen if he DIDN’T do those things. Boromir had built his entire self-concept around his successes. And yes, unfortunately, people do have the mentality when looking at someone who does seem so talented and arguably so perfect and think that person can never fail unless it’s for the lols. On that note, when Boromir does struggle, everyone thinks “he just isn’t trying” and this is so toxic and painful? And more to explore than I’m capable of unpacking in a single post.

What I’m getting at here is Denethor II is the main perpetrator of EVERYONE FAILING TO PERCEIVE BOROMIR AS JUST A HUMAN BEING. Denethor calls Boromir the one who will never fail him. Boromir doesn’t want to disappoint his father, but that went very quickly from “I want my dad to be proud of me” to “this behavior is second nature but I fear the isolation of falling to my own humanity and must now avoid situations in which that could cause me to fail because the respect and love of others that I have garnered is conditional on my continued lack of failures” — which is absolutely why he says no at first when asked to go to the council of Elrond. 

Boromir isn’t stupid. He knows himself more than anyone else because no one takes the time to know him. Because his father essentially said that he would never fail and now people believe that and what’s worse is. ok, Denethor also has the ability to read the thoughts of others, he ALSO had a Palantir and Sauron couldn’t take control of him like he did to Saruman, Denethor just got really bitter and aged quickly. Denethor has a massive aptitude for magic with that logic and incredibly strong willpower. those two things combined are a dangerous combination, especially considering how magic works in Tolkien's world. 

Denethor, with his massive magical aptitude, says that Boromir is “the one who will not fail me”. While maybe he didn’t see it, he placed a geis on his own son, and when Boromir does fail, when he falls to the temptation of the one ring (which is, undoubtedly, a massive moment of weakness, of all the moments of weakness, it just had to be that, huh?), guESS WHAT!!! HE DIES!!! HE’S KILLED!!! Guess what happens when you break a geis??? YOU DIE. Now, Denethor didn’t specify a type of death ( and Boromir isn’t the only character who can be said to have been under a geis in Tolkien's legendarium, there’s a brilliant post about how Frodo places a geis on Gollum and that’s why Gollum dies in the method he does ), but to break a geis is to die.  

In conclusion, because Denethor couldn’t see Boromir as anything but this unfailing, everlasting pillar of strength, Boromir ended up dead and people couldn’t see him as what he was, a strong human, but also only human until it was too late thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[lumilasi]

Hey battle of bands au anon here! Thank you sooo much for the advice , I've decided to choose all might because I dont want my fic to be too angsty or plot heavy. I also realised afo can be a very complex character to write and I dont think I can pull that off in my first fic. Also I love the approach you're taking on AFO in stringmaster , it is currently one of my favs!

I haven't read all your fics (yet) but as far as I have read I dont think endeavor has had a major role in any of your fics but if you have any advice on his characterisation then I'd love that. I want this fic to be more fluffy with just a little angst so I dont want to make endeavor as horrible as canon. He's still obsessed with his children (shoto and dabi) being number 1 but I guess not as horrible to his family. Basically I'm stuck at a scene where endeavor has to react to dabi being ranked 2nd in a pleasantly surprising way but not completely out of character. Idk if that made any sense or not I feel like I'm having trouble putting things into words.

Anyways thanks for the advice and if you have any regarding this scene pls help a girl out lol

Ha ha, glad to hear it helped out! And yeah, he can be, hell I’d say Tomura can also be very tricky to write given his complexity. But def. AFO is up there as well.

Stringmaster AFO is fun (and challenging) to write, because it’s this...weird contradiction, where he does understand emotions and how humans work in theory, but lacks the ability to sort instinctively realize these things himself. Basically meaning he both gets and doesn’t get it.

Almost everything needs to be conscious choices to him for the most part, rather than just knowing how to react in situations where empathy is needed. 

But enough about that! 

Yeah, I don’t use Endeavor a whole lot in my fics other than being the bad father he is in canon, because...tbh I find his character pretty boring? Like his most interesting parts are basically plot device stuff to have an impact/act as motivation for more important/interesting characters. (I.E Dabi and Shoto) Without those he’s just...kinda generic prideful grumpy guy? He just doesn’t really stand out to me from any other hero outside the bad parenting. 

It probably bothers me more/is more noticeable than it would with other mangas I’ve read, because he gets contrasted against well-written and complex characters like many of the villains, or if I have to pick a hero example, Aizawa and Toshinori. 

 (To be fair, I have this issue with a lot of the hero side characters, they feel really underdeveloped/one-dimensional to me a lot of times. I get you can’t flesh out every single one of your hundreds of characters properly, but sometimes even more central focused hero characters feel underdeveloped to me, IDK) 

....I better cut this rant short and get back on topic about the actual question haha

I feel like I’d probably need more context of what is going on to give proper useful tips, but the first thing that comes to mind would probably be him doing kind of a backhanded compliment or so, where he expresses that Dabi did good job but also still make him feel like it’s not enough? IDK how to demonstrate that exactly tho. 

I think the best example I can offer is Stringmaster AFO, now that he was brought up? Like the birth of Mon-chan comic I made, (here in case you dunno what I’m talking about) where he compliments Tomura about his achievement, but then casually tells him he could scrap it and try again because it wasn’t perfect. In his mind he was stating a fact, but it comes off pretty cold, especially to a kid who’s looking for his approval. 

Something along those lines could work with Endeavor too, though obviously his delivery would have to be more exaggerated and aggressive, because he’s not suave/well-mannered (or lessay pretentious) like AFO lmao

Also I think to make it feel in character someone would probably have to point out to him that he needs to be more encouraging and supportive, because a prideful dude like him’s gonna struggle being able to figure it out himself. So it’d be like “good comment, bad comment, gets scolded and tags on another good comment clumsily” or something. 

IDK if any of that helps, but I tried at least. Either way I’m looking forward to reading your fic someday if you manage to write it. Who knows, maybe you’ll get some fanart for it too C; 

[shuahoonie]

you. [tom holland] - four.

PAIRING: tom holland x female!celebrity!reader

SUMMARY: ah, to be young and in love. it sounds great if only you and tom were actually dating out of pure love and not for the sheer reputation of your careers. it also should be great if you two actually got along, but life isn’t that easy.

WARNINGS: mostly swearing! more fluff than usual yall lmao. it’s haters to lovers / fake dating au so take that information as you wish!

WORD COUNT: 1660

SONG INSPO: circles - post malone  

A/N: hiya babes! well, i’m back in university and this semester is a bit more heavy-loaded than my previous one. only the first week of the winter semester, i’m already unbearably occupied. but i’ll manage! i’ll try to update every saturdays since i need an escape from academic works lmao. anyways, happy reading and enjoy part four! x

gif credits: @spiked-tea​ 

vanessa’s masterlist | preview | one | two | three | five | six | seven | eight | eight.5 [interview excerpt] 

You weren’t expecting Tom to wrap his hand around yours nor did you expect him to help you ease your nerves down, so you ended up staring at him. You were trying to figure out what kind of stunt is he trying to pull now.

What are you trying to do, Holland? You thought. 

He turned his attention to you, his brows knitted slightly. “Why are you staring, princess?” He chuckled softly, amused at the confusion painted on your face.

“’m not staring,” You mumbled as you turned your attention back to walking and slowly slipped your hand away from Tom’s. “I can handle it from here, thanks.” 

You said it in such whisper that you could’ve sworn Tom probably won’t hear it. But he did and he just shrugged in response. 

You both reached the restaurant without saying another word. It wasn’t much of a restaurant-rather a diner. It looked very hip and retro. It also featured a couple of colourful fluorescent lights, and you knew it was going to be one of those stops for Instagram photos. Maybe lunch won’t be that bad. 

It was horrible. You two having lunch was horrible. 

“Honey, you’re exaggerating,” Zoë said as she answered her emails. You didn’t even notice you said it out loud but even if you didn’t, the look on your face probably said it all.

“I am not exaggerating, Zo! I’m telling you, people were staring so much. People also asked for photos, which I didn’t mind because some of them were totally nice about it, but god! Some of them gave me dirty looks. Like hello?” You ranted off.

Well, people giving you dirty looks were the least of your problems. 

You and Tom were seated in a corner booth as you both ate your lunch quietly. Well, it was quiet until a girl around her teens approached your table. 

“Oh, uh, hi Tom, I’m so sorry to bother you but can I take a photo?” The girl asked with a hopeful smile on her face. 

As you were sitting across him, Tom glanced at you as if asking for approval. It caught you off-guard. ‘Why is he asking for my approval?’ You wondered. 

 But you two were a fake couple now, and you guessed this is how things are going to be from now on. You had to act like a normal couple around everybody else. 

This only made you second-guess your decision even more.

You glanced at the girl and gave her a small smile. Keeping the smile, you then turned your attention back to Tom and just nodded at him. 

Tom chuckled as he grabbed the girl’s phone. “Sorry, darling, just had to check in with my girlfriend. I promised that this day was the day that I give her all of my time.” 

Your eyes widened as you heard the words that slipped off from Tom’s lips. “Oh god, we’re that couple?!” You wanted to scream at him. But of course, you couldn’t. 

“Tom,” You mumbled shyly, also feeling the warmth spreading across your cheeks. 

“What?” He laughed. ”I was just stating facts, princess. I did promise you that I’ll make it up to you after what happened. Right?” He then proceeded to take a photo with the girl. She mumbled her thanks and giving you a complete once-over before she left. You swore you saw her roll her eyes after. 

Once you knew she was out of distance, you called Tom’s name in a whisper. “Tom, what the hell was that?!” You hissed in a low voice. 

However, Tom couldn’t grasp what you were saying. “Sorry, what was that, princess?” 

“I said, why did you have to say that?” You said in a low voice. 

“’m sorry, still can’t hear you, princess,” Tom answered. “Just seat next to me so you don’t have to say it loud.” 

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone. You were about to send a text to him but you realized you don’t have his number. So, you opted out to use the notes app on your phone instead. 

‘I don’t have to seat next to you. We can just use this instead.’ You typed and handed Tom your phone. 

His eyes scanned the whole thing and began typing his response. ‘Just sit next to me. This is ridiculous.’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Y/N, this is excruciating. Just sit next to me so we don’t have to do any of this. Besides, people are staring and we look ridiculous.’ Tom handed you your phone. 

As soon as you read his reply, you briefly wandered your eyes around the place and unfortunately, he was right. People were staring at you two. 

You let out a small sigh, before sliding off your seat. As you stood up and was about to sit next to Tom, he gave you a huge smile. 

You were about to roll your eyes when Tom signalled towards the window panel against your table. You looked through the huge glass panel and saw a couple of paparazzi attempting to hide while taking photos of you two. 

You forced a smile and went towards Tom’s side of the booth. You sat at the edge of the seat, leaving space between you two.

“Why are you sitting so far away?” He asked, amused. “Come closer.” 

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” You said, scooting away more. You had half of your butt sitting and you looked absurd, to say the least. 

“Y/N, you look ridiculous. C’mere, princess.” Tom chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. 

“Holland, what the hell are you doing?” You hissed under your breath. 

“You keep asking that, Y/N, but you already know the answer.” He answered lowly. Tom had his left arm around your shoulder, tracing slow patterns on your arm. 

Not satisfied with his answer and wanting a more constructed one, you just looked at him- which was a horrible idea. You had a close-up look at his face. You noticed freckles speckled across his face. His eyes-god his eyes. You liked how they turn golden when the sun shines on them. 

With every second that you studied his face, along with his gestures, the more you realized how difficult the whole situation is going to be. You could never fall for this man- no matter how difficult it’s going to be. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tom asked as he popped a fry-a chip, he argued while ordering- into his mouth.

You were not going to actually say why you were staring at him, you had more dignity than that. “Gotta make the people believe I’m so in love with you that I can’t help but look at you.” 

“Wow,” Tom let out a low whistle “You’re getting good at this.” He was still tracing patterns on your arm and you couldn’t help but feel comfortable being this close to him. 

“You can rest your head on my shoulder if you want. ‘Ya know, if it makes you more comfortable,” Tom suggested.

“If I say I’m okay, will you still bug me about it?” You asked. 

“Yup,” He answered honestly, making you roll your eyes. 

So, you gave in. You rested your head over his shoulder and closed your eyes for a moment. 

“The old couple at the next table is staring at us adoringly,” Tom whispered.  You opened your eyes and sure enough, there was an old couple looking at them in awe. Feeling shy all of a sudden, you just gave them a small smile before burying your face into Tom’s. 

You two were acting like a real couple and it’s terrifying how you just feel comfortable around him.

“I can’t believe we’re doing a good job as a couple right now, why don’t we take this up at my place?” You spoke too soon. After hearing Tom’s comment, you took his arm off around you and slapped his arm. 

“Ow!” Tom rubbed his arm, laughing, “I was kidding, princess, come back here. Please.”

“You’re disgusting, Holland,” You said rolling your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, princess,” He pouted while pulling you closer again, setting your head back on top of his shoulder and placing his arm around you. “You know I’m not a ‘sex on the first date’ kind of guy.” 

“You are not building a strong case, Tom.” 

“I’m kidding, princess.” He mumbles into the top of your head. 

“How’d we get here, Holland?” You asked, beginning to wonder what led you guys here. 

“Well, for starters, I couldn’t hear you so I asked you to sit next to me.” He answered, laughing. 

“Yeah, because you disregarded my phone,” You mumbled.

“Hey, I thought you hated the use of phones while you’re out with people.” Tom pointed out. 

You furrowed your brows, “How did you know that?” You asked. 

“Saw your interview.” He answered casually.

“What, you’re stalking me now?” 

“I needed to know who my girlfriend is. For all I know, you might be a serial killer.” Tom explained as he started tracing circles on your arm again. 

“How charming,” You snorted. 

And then things fell quiet again. People came and went, however, they still stared at you two. 

“Are we going to be one of those couples?” You asked Tom. 

He furrowed his brows. “What couples?” 

“The one where they have to say sickly sweet stuff to each other in public and have to execute unnecessary PDA around other people.” You explained almost in full detail. 

“Why are you asking?” Tom turned his attention to you now. 

“Just don’t want to be one of those couples,” You mumbled. 

“Then we’re going to be exactly like one of them,” Tom commented cheekily. 

“You’re despicable.” You rolled your eyes. 

Lunch was horrible. It was horrible because you feel like this whole orchestra is going to end badly and you- you’re the one who’s going to take most of it. 

TAGLIST: @thomasthetankson @autty0314 @marvelous-tswiftfan @averyfosterthoughts @theolwebshooter @jackiehollanderr @sltwins @herondalescecilys @notjustpenandpaper @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife  @sectusempried​ @gothicwidowsworld​ @heartofholland​ @stxfxniexreads  @peruvian-bae​ @hollands-osterfield​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​ 

[loveburnsbrighter]

30. ‘this is my husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner etc.’ + David/Patrick!

this got really Patrick-centric, so i hope that's okay! i have a thing about Patrick getting everything he wants lmao. read it on ao3

When Jocelyn asked Patrick to help out with the high school's fall musical ("The drama teacher is on extended maternity leave, we're really in a bind!") he wasn't so sure at first.  He agreed, of course, in no small part because Jocelyn had the glint in her eye that said she was on the edge of snapping, but he wasn't particularly excited about the prospect of running lines with a bunch of teens eight hours a week for eight weeks out of the fall.  Especially when that time could be spent in the store he runs with his new husband.

David, for his part, hadn't been thrilled about being left to close alone four days a week, but he'd encouraged Patrick easily enough, waving away his concerns breezily.  "You like kids," he told Patrick the night before his first day on the job, murmuring into the space between them across their pillows.  "And you love theater.  This will be good for you."

David had been right, of course.  Now, three weeks into rehearsals for Grease, Patrick is loving the job, even if the kids have a terrible collective habit of asking invasive questions and making inappropriate jokes.  Patrick finds himself sending a mental apology to all of his high school teachers the third time he catches the kids sharing a rousing chorus of a particularly dirty song, and catches himself sternly asking them to cut it out.

For the most part, though, the job is fun.  The kids call him "Mr Patrick," and they seem actually impressed when he tells them about Cabaret.  The student director listens to his suggestions.  It's another one of those things that's clicked in his life since he moved to Schitt's Creek, although less and less frequently; he was meant to do this, could have been doing this all along.

It's Wednesday of his third week on Grease, and the kids have asked if they can stay an extra hour or so, try a full run-through with notes.  Jocelyn, who's their official staff supervisor and barely involved in the actual mechanics of the play, tells them that it's okay with her if it's okay with Patrick, so he calls David to let him know he'll be home extra-late.

David is surprisingly chipper about it.  "I'm gonna lock up in about half an hour," he says, voice crackling past the school's shotty reception.  "I could pick up some pizza for you and the kids?"

Patrick fake-gasps.  "Is that David Rose, doing something nice for a bunch of children?"

"Um, I'm doing something nice for you, and if the children happen to benefit, I can't control that," David clarifies with a huff.

Patrick laughs as he hangs up.

They're working through Hopelessly Devoted to You, a little bit shakily, when there's a sharp rattle on the auditorium door.  Jocelyn leaps from the card table where she's been grading papers.  "David!"  She exclaims when she opens it and he struts in, laden down with pizza boxes.  "You brought the kids dinner!"

"Yeah, Patrick said they were working late?"  David sets the stack of boxes on the table, careful of Jocelyn's papers.  

"Of course!"  Jocelyn is smiling like she's impressed by the gesture.  

Patrick witnesses this exchange from partway between the door and the stage, which are maybe fifteen feet apart.  "Okay, guys, take ten," he calls as they wrap up their number.  "I got us pizza!"

"Sorry, who got us pizza?"  David raises a pointed brow.

Patrick looks David over, his skirt and sweater and horribly uncomfortable-looking boots, and thinks that the kids will love him.  Especially Sal; they play Rizzo, and they're secretly Patrick's favorite, full of laughter and good questions and teenage rage-against energy.  

The kids huddle around, shooting David incredibly blatant glances.  "Who is this?"  Asks Joshie, a junior who's chalk-full of innuendo.  She's eyeing David speculatively, head tilted.

"This is the guy who just brought you all pizza."  Patrick leans in to peck David, a quick, cursory thing, as David gets close to him.  "Guys, this is my husband, David."

Patrick didn't expect that sentence to be a big deal, but now that he's said it, it feels like one.  He knows that he's mentioned having a husband before, but he's never said it like that — this is my husband.  It feels so good, Patrick never wants to say anything else.  He could be like Amelie, except instead of his own name, he'd say nothing but this is my husband, David.  

"...Cool skirt," Sal says.  David looks himself over self-consciously, and Patrick smiles at him, so he knows that they mean that.

The kids descend on the pizza with abandon, still eyeing David and whispering to one another between bites, and David regards them with the kind of nervous energy he usually reserves for prospective vendors — he wants them to like him, Patrick knows, because Patrick likes them.  

Later, after the pizza has been demolished and David has left Patrick with a kiss and a see you in a bit, Patrick corrals the kids into a circle beside the stage.  "Mr Patrick?"  Patrick looks at Sal — they're almost his height, so he doesn't have to look down at all.  "Your husband is cool."

"Your husband is hot," Joshie announces, eliciting nervous giggles from the rest of the kids, but Patrick is too shaken to admonish them.

Hearing your husband is almost as good as saying my husband.  No one has ever said it to Patrick before.  His mom asked for a dance with his groom at their wedding reception, but that isn't the same thing.  Husband is bigger than that.  David was his groom for a day.  They'll be husbands for the rest of their lives.

"Is it that surprising to you guys that I have a cool, hot husband?"  He says finally, head still wrapping around the enormity of it.  The possessive pronoun of it all.  His husband.  His husband.  David, David, David, Patrick thinks until his head is so full of his husband David that he physically shakes it to make room for the rest of rehearsal.

Joshie and Sal keep putting their heads together and laughing, in the wings, in the backgrounds of scenes, and Patrick would bet this whole production that one or both of them has a crush on David, but honestly — honestly, if David had walked into Patrick's high school, he might have realized he was gay long before he actually did.  Like, ten years before.  So he can't blame them, really.

When Patrick gets home, he puts his arms around David's waist from behind — David is at the kitchen counter, scooping ice cream, and Patrick gathers him up and noses into the crook of his neck.  "My kids really liked you," he says into David's skin.

"A), don't call them your kids," David says, shuddering, "it gives me flashbacks to your drug-induced baby fever, and B), of course they like me.  I'm a fucking delight."

"They called you my husband," Patrick whispers into the neckline of David's sweater, like it's a secret, and David squirms his way out of Patrick's arms, returning to his gallon of Moose Tracks and ceramic dessert bowls.

"I am your husband," he says in his blandest tone, trying to goad Patrick into explaining himself.

Patrick does.  Because he wants to.  He wants to take this enormous feeling blowing up inside him and see if he can share it with David.  "No one has ever said 'your husband' to me before, though," he says to David's back.  "Knowing it and hearing it are two different things.  And it's like…like someone else saying it proved that this is real.  That this isn't all some extended dream, and I'm going to wake up alone and wanting for you in my bedroom back at Ray's."

David finally turns, handing Patrick a bowl of ice cream, which he accepts easily — he's not much of an emotional eater, unlike David, but he's human, after all.  "Is this what you used to dream about?"  He wants to know.  "Marriage, a white picket fence, coaching Little League?"

"There's no picket fence, and I'm advising the drama club," Patrick says, "but marriage felt more like an expectation before."  He can feel himself blushing before he even gets the word out.  "I didn't start dreaming of marriage until I'd started dating you."

David takes the bowls, still full but for a couple bites, and sets them wordlessly on the counter, then turns to Patrick with fire in his eyes.

Patrick's husband's kisses taste like vanilla and caramel and infinity stretching inward just for them. 

[softpine]

this is a ridiculously long one, i’m sorry! i broke it into sections so it’s easier to find your ask

[not related to the current simblr issue]

@tastelesscolors​ ahhhhhhhh i can’t even tell you how happy this made me, this is the sweetest thing 🥺 i’ve always wanted to make people see the world differently through my writing (because in writing this, i’ve also started to see the world differently) so that’s a HUGE compliment!! thank you so so much!! 💖💖💖

i don’t think i understand what this means jfksjd sorry that happened to you though :(

considering i had to rewrite some of my plot because it just wasn’t fitting right.... me too 😅 jskdjs but thank you!! i’m glad you’re interested 💖

fjskdjs me!

omg i wish i could help, but the only mullet i can think of off the top of my head is this one. otherwise i have no idea, that’s why i had to make asa’s myself :( i’m sorry!!

i would rather not share, somehow people twist it into something else even if just post the number and give zero input about it. i don’t pay attention to numbers anyway, it stresses me out :/

[about my horrific chemistry exam lmfao]

@orphyd​ i love u more nia 🥺🥺💖💖💖

thank you!! i think i would need more luck than the entire universe contains but 😅 i appreciate it 💖

thank you so much 🥺 i’m trying to stay positive and hope that the next test will be better, but honestly i’m already resigning myself to the fact that i’ll have to retake this one too. i wish i could blame it on the pandemic but this has been happening much longer than covid fjksjds but it’s okay!! i’ll finish it one way or another, i’m committed! thank you again for reaching out 💖💖

sjksjd i don’t cheat, but thank you! 💖💖 i just want to get on with my life and get a job and actually have something of my own for once... i feel like i’ve been in college for 20932092 billion years :(

thank you so much, i needed to hear this 🥺💖 i sent my professor an email right after the test, basically just explaining that i wasn’t trying to insult her with my horrible score lmao. i had her for chemistry 1 last year (the semester that i actually passed it lmaoo) so she already knows that i struggle with chemistry, but i just feel like not only did i let myself down, but i also let her down. it’s been especially hard not having classes in-person because a 20 minute zoom meeting just isn’t the same as a real lecture :( i don’t know what else she could possibly do for me, i just really..... REALLY suck at chemistry :( but i appreciate you reaching out, it feels good to just be reminded that i’m more than this one class 💗

[related to the current simblr issues]

trigger warning for: racism, antisemitism, bullying (of minors), etc.

here’s the briefest summary i can manage:

oliveandoak & simvicii used to be popular simblrs last year. they started a discord. that discord included many other popular simblrs. in that discord, they all participated in things like racism, antisemitism, bullying of minors, targeted hate, etc. [more proof]. none of these people came forward or reported the behavior that was happening in the discord. now that they’ve been called out, lots of them are posting apologies, but you have to wonder how sincere they could possibly be, given that some of them helped write oliveandoak’s apology and called it “damage control”... so that’s a super quick summary! i suggest reading all the screenshots if you want further proof

i’m genuinely very sorry that this topic is triggering for you, but i’ve already been tagging everything with the appropriate tags (racism tw, antisemitism tw, bullying tw, etc.) and i feel it would be disrespectful for me to tag it as anything else (like drama tw, because it’s not drama, it’s much more than that). i also miss my dash being full of creativity and love, but right now we’re seeing that pushing everything under the rug doesn’t help anyone. i would recommend taking a hiatus if this is negatively affecting your mental health, and i’m truly sorry that this situation is triggering

literally!! i can’t even describe how angry i was this morning when i woke up to see that list including multiple people who had dm’ed me yesterday (pretending that they were innocent & that they all stood up to oliveandoak when in reality they were actively participating in everything). their apologies mean absolutely nothing considering they couldn’t even own up to me privately. they’re just covering their asses and i feel so stupid for trusting them even for a moment

yeah i’ve never thought about leaving simblr until now tbh. i’m still not going to leave until my story is done, but this has made me realize that 1. people suck, 2. the internet makes it even easier for people to suck :( i’m so sorry that you don’t feel safe or welcome on simblr, i can’t even imagine how this must feel for anyone affected. just know that i love and support you and if there’s anything i can possibly do to make you feel more welcome, let me know 💖

literally me!! i’ve never used discord (except with irl friends) and i’m definitely not about to start now. can’t trust anyone!

@bb-enablefreebuild​ omg thank you, but it’s okay! it’s not about me. i just feel sad that people used me as a mouth piece and i trusted them when they said they were just being manipulated in that group. when really they were manipulating me haha. but now i know better 🤷🏻‍♀️ ily!! 💖