#found a picture of my street from the perspective

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 1: Devil's in the Details

Alastor x Reader

(Third Person POV) Summary: Alastor hates Christmas or at least claims to. What happens when his partner tries to change his mind in less-than-normal ways? Warnings: Oral sex, use of pet names, dom/sub dynamics, costumes, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. First one, my lovelies! Requested by the beautiful and talented @redvexillum

The festive lights of Pentagram City were uncharacteristically cheery this time of year, a stark contrast to the usual chaos. Snow, or something resembling it, blanketed the streets, and garish decorations adorned every decrepit lamppost. Y/N had taken it upon themselves to deck out the hotel in Christmas splendor, despite Alastor’s vehement distaste for the holiday.  

“I don’t understand why you insist on celebrating this of all things,” Alastor scoffed, leaning against the doorway of the common room. “Such a trifling, saccharine excuse for joy. And those dreadful carols. They’re an affront to good music!”  

Y/N, perched on a stepladder, was carefully hanging tinsel around a grand, though slightly crooked, Christmas tree. They grinned, wiping a bit of glitter from their cheek. “Maybe you just haven’t experienced it properly, Al. Christmas is about warmth, giving, and making memories. Even demons can use a little cheer, don’t you think?”  

Alastor’s eyes glinted, the crimson of his pupils sharp against the glow of the string lights. “Cheer? Darling, this,” he gestured broadly at the room, “is an abomination.”  

“Sure, Al. Sure.”

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

Y/N sat cross-legged on the edge of their bed, the flickering light of a single candle casting shadows on the walls as a mischievous grin played on their lips. The plan was simple yet devious—if Alastor, the ever-skeptical demon broadcaster, found Christmas insufferable, perhaps it was only because he had never seen it from a different perspective. 

A skimpy Santa outfit, perfectly tailored to catch his attention and leave him utterly speechless, would be the centerpiece of their scheme. The collar came dipping low, the fluff leaving little the imagination while the stockings came knee height. And to top it off, a piece of fabric that could be hardly called a skirt finished with a silken black bow. The devil was in the details after all. 

Y/N imagined his crimson eyes widening, his sly grin faltering, if only for a moment. They chuckled quietly, already picturing his voice stumbling over his usual smug commentary. Christmas spirit wasn’t just about carols and snow; sometimes, it took a little creativity to light the spark.

The night of the big reveal arrived. The hotel was quiet, the soft hum of holiday jazz emanating from an old phonograph in the Radio’s demons room on the fifth floor. Alastor, as usual, lounged in his favorite armchair, a steaming cup of something, probably tea, in his hand. He was muttering about how much he despised the season when Y/N stepped into the room. A true humbug he was. 

“Alastor, darling~” Y/N called, their voice light and teasing.  

He looked up, ready to deliver a sarcastic remark—only to have the words catch in his throat.  

There they stood, wearing a Santa outfit that had been decidedly... modernized. The deep crimson fabric hugged their form perfectly, trimmed with just enough white fur to be festive but leaving little to the imagination. The slit in the skirt was borderline scandalous, and the neckline—well, it was enough to make the Radio Demon himself lose his composure for a split second.  

“Well?” Y/N purred, striking a playful pose. “What do you think? Still hate Christmas?”  

Alastor’s grin faltered for the briefest moment before returning, sharper than ever. He stood, circling Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. “My, my, you’ve certainly... elevated the festivities. Though I can’t help but wonder—was this meant to convert me, or distract me?”  

“Maybe both,” Y/N teased, stepping closer. “Do you feel a little warmer now?”  

Alastor’s laughter filled the room, rich and unsettling. “Oh, my dear, you have no idea. Perhaps this wretched holiday does have its merits after all.”  

“Good,” Y/N replied, a mischievous glint in their eye. “Because there’s more where this came from.”  

Nimble fingers traced up their waist, one hand coming to rest with a vice grip on their waist. The other tugging softly on the hem of their skirt before suddenly ripping them off of their body. Exposed, Y/N let out a gasp that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan  s Alastor traced a knuckle up the soaked clothed core. 

“Now come sit on my lap, darling….isn’t that what you are supposed to do?” 

Continuing to drag his finger across their pantie-clad slit, Alastor mumbled the words into the base of thier neck, guiding her back to his arm cahir. Working her way down,  His eyes widened as they sat, the messiness that coated their plush thights and painted their hole now came to seep through the fabric of his trousers.

They could feel his hot breath near her ear but as to exact location, Y/N could only but guess. The mix of excitement and fear pulsed through their body, all of it adding to the growing arousal pooling within them. Was he going to kiss their neck? Was he going to continue his assault underneath their panties? 

“Now my dear, have you been naughty or nice this year?”

With a dark chuckle, the red demon snuck a finger past the lacey red panties and dipped into their eager cunt. Choking back a moan, hands coming to grab the chair cushions with a vice grip, Y/N felt their whole world spinning. By Lucifer did he feel good. Y/N had sex plenty of times both in life and death but for some godforsaken reason, his one finger felt like they were taking the biggest thing anyone had ever taken. 

“Good, I have been so good—“

“Oh have you now? Walking into my room, in such a vulgar outfit? Not quite the thing to get your name on the nice list~”

To their surprise, he added another finger. Hips bucking involuntarily and they could feel the coil in their stomach get tighter with every dirty word that passed his lips. Trying to get out a few words, to warn him of their fast approaching release, he ignored their whiny protests. Speeding up and driving his fingers even deeper, adding to the already lewd squelinching sounds that fill the room. Each thrust is a delicious blend of pain a pleasure, with all thoughts clouded with the feeling of the his deft digits kissing their cervix and how absoluely debauched the words out of Alastor’s mouth sound. 

“That’s it, darling. Be good and let me see how nice my present is all unraveled for me.”

His lips found themselves planted on their neck, kissing and sucking softly at their tender flesh. His fingers hitting the right spot to hit every time that had the pressure building and building till they felt the coil in their stomach snap, Alastor’s name coming out in choked murmurs. Allowing time to calm down from the intense high, Alastor removed his fingers, licking the glistening slick off of them in an pornographic display. 

“My darling, perhaps you will wear this again, mhmm?”

[miueo]

𐙚 my little idol ♥︎．。．:*･° chap i ✿

ᰔᩚ      ︶ྀི    new legacy .

summary : you're currently in a new girl group underneath jyp entertainment ! your group is performing well on charts, you have a stable fanbase, and many bops to listen to! you try your best to avoid dating scandals for the sake of your reputation and status but it's all ruined by a very popular group of boys.

pairings : ot8!skz ♡ femidol!reader !

warnings : no smut in this chapter ; heavy on smut, sexualization & objectification, perversion, obsession, taboo / dark concepts (for some members, not all !) , mental physical / health issues (depression, anxiety, etc.), coercion, unsolicited pictures, more to be announced.

notes : hiii !!!! i am currently in guangdong… ive been traveling so much lately, sorry for the lack of content. THIS IS JUST AN INTRO CHAPTER!

taglist : @p0eticjust1c3 @yunjinswifee @sky00ung @pinkdranks @bloominhos @mi-mi-mu @nasiaisan @kitkat1sstuff @hyunjinhoexxx @theinsanebish

selected song for fic :

in the bustling heart of seoul’s entertainment scene, amidst the glittering promise of fame and the relentless pursuit of dreams, there exists a young talent whose voice echoes with the power to stir souls. her name is song y/n, a gifted vocalist whose journey to becoming a k-pop sensation began with a passion for music that bloomed in her hometown.

from an early age, y/n’s voice enchanted audiences, drawing praise for its depth and emotional resonance. encouraged by her family’s unwavering support, she embarked on a path that led her to jyp entertainment, where her talent would be nurtured and polished to perfection. in the rigorous world of k-pop training, y/n’s dedication and natural ability set her apart, particularly her ability to convey emotion through every lyric and melody.

selected for her exceptional vocal skills, y/n found herself among the chosen few to join 4ura, a newly formed girl group at jyp entertainment. with three other members, each bringing their own strengths to the table, 4ura aimed to carve out a place in the competitive landscape of k-pop. for y/n, being part of 4ura wasn’t just about achieving stardom; it was about fulfilling a lifelong dream and sharing her music with the world.

as rehearsals filled her days and anticipation fueled her nights, song y/n stood on the brink of a future she had once only dared to imagine. with determination in her heart and the power of her voice as her guide, she was poised to make her mark as not just an idol, but as an artist whose presence on stage would resonate far beyond the lights of seoul.

❁

at the forefront stands y/n song, the group’s main vocalist hailing from the vibrant streets of new york city. blessed with a voice that effortlessly transcends genres, y/n’s journey to stardom is a testament to years of dedication and an unyielding commitment to her craft.

beside her is olivia wong, the group’s main dancer, whose electrifying moves reflect her upbringing in the bustling metropolis of hong kong. with a dance style that blends precision and grace, olivia brings a dynamic energy to 4ura’s performances, captivating audiences with every fluid motion.

adding to the group’s allure is minjeong kim, renowned as 4ura’s visual, drawing inspiration from the natural beauty of jeju island. with a magnetic presence that commands attention, minjeong’s ethereal charm and captivating gaze make her an undeniable visual powerhouse within the group.

completing this quartet of talent is autumn yang, the group’s main rapper with roots tracing back to the sun-drenched shores of california. autumn’s sharp lyricism and charismatic delivery bring a fresh perspective to 4ura’s music, adding depth and diversity to their sound.

❁

beyond their individual talents, 4ura thrives within the supportive community of jyp entertainment, fostering close relationships with labelmates nmixx, stray kids, itzy, and twice. from collaborative performances that electrify audiences to backstage camaraderie that strengthens their bonds, 4ura and their fellow jyp artists form a tight-knit family united by a shared passion for music and a drive to push boundaries.

as they prepare to debut on stages both local and global, 4ura stands poised to make an indelible mark in the world of k-pop. with their unique blend of talent, charisma, and ambition, they are ready to carve out a place among the stars, promising a future where their music will resonate far and wide, leaving an unforgettable imprint on the hearts of fans everywhere.

everything is so perfect right now. what could possibly ruin this beautiful moment?

[starrynini05]

like we’re moving in slow motion – painter!kim jennie x photographer!reader

summary: when you were with her, everything felt like a dream

warnings: none

tags: non!idol au ; photography student!reader ; art student!jennie : university au

genre: fluff

word count: 1k

You will always remember your first encounter with her as if it was yesterday:

In the city of Seoul, where skyscrapers kissed the sky and neon lights painted the streets in a kaleidoscope of colors, life moved at a dizzying pace. With the arrival of spring, rain cascaded from above, transforming the urban landscape into a shimmering mosaic of light and shadow. The streets, usually bustling with the hurried footsteps of pedestrians, the murmur of crowded sidewalks, the rhythmic pulse of music escaping from nearby shops, and the hum of traffic, now lay quiet under the soothing rhythm of the rainfall.

The city, for a brief moment, seemed to catch its breath, basking in the tranquility brought by the new season. Most people would find it an inconvenience, but for you, it was an inspiration. Amidst the chaos, you were enjoying yourself in the solace of a nearby park, covered by trees, the soft shutter of your camera blending into the sounds of nature. As a photography student, you had a penchant for capturing beauty in the mundane. Your world was seen through the lens of your camera, each click capturing a frozen moment in time. The final frames were a stark contrast to the vibrant city outside, often highlighting the quiet corners and overlooked details of their urban landscape.

As the rain began to pour harder you noticed people entering different shops for shelter. Preoccupied by your equipment, you decided to continue your little shoot inside an old bookstore. While capturing the reflections of the rain-soaked streets you saw a slender, cat-eyed girl enter the store, canvas, and brushes in hand. It felt like you were moving in slow motion, almost serendipitously, your eyes met across the room, a spark igniting between both gazes.

Kim Jennie was the name engraved on her pink smock tag, slightly covered with paint. She was an art student at the same university, carrying a heart as vibrant as her paintings. She was slightly older than you, being in her third year of liberal arts while you were only a freshman. Her paintings were scattered along the campus, being exhibited as examples of skill and talent. Her world was a riot of colors, each brushstroke on her canvas a testament to her passion. Unlike you, she was pretty well known around the university, having friends in different areas, and being involved in various academic activities.

With a surge of confidence, you showed her a timid smile that she reciprocated with an even bigger smile and an invitation to talk. As you approached her, she extended her paint-covered hand and presented herself softly, “Hi, my name is Jennie, I’m a third-year art student at Hanguk University” “Nice to meet you…” too lost in her orbs, you missed her going quiet so you would continue “Oh, yeah, hey, my name is Lee y/n, I’m a first-year photography student at the same university”, your cheeks turning red at the statement. As you exchanged timid smiles and hesitant words, you discovered a shared love for art and expression. She admired your ability to freeze moments in time through your lens, while you found solace in her colorful imagination that breathed life into your monochromatic world.

You both returned to campus that day with a new perspective on life, wishing to know more about each other. Thus, as time passed your connection deepened. You spent your free time together wandering the streets of Seoul, exploring hidden alleyways and abandoned rooftops, looking to capture these landscapes in both painting and pictures. As the artistic outings became more frequent, they suddenly turned into coffee dates, picnics, and even movie dates. With each passing moment, you found yourselves falling deeper into an enchanting rhythm, your hearts beating in sync like a melody.

She became your escape from reality, leaning all your weight, showing her your most vulnerable and integer form. Likewise, you were always on her mind, she kept the memories of your countless interactions as sacred treasures, like tiny blessings to her troubled heart.

It had been almost four months since that day, and now, lying on the grass under the moonlight you couldn’t help but keep on admiring her perfect profile. She had moved your head to rest on her chest, enclosing your small frame from behind. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you gazed at the stars in perfect silence, lost in each other's embrace. You felt her take something from behind her back, and suddenly, a small bouquet of pink tulips entered your vision. With a small sigh, she slightly sat up and sat you in front of her.

“I know it may seem like soon, but I like you a lot, you were there on my lonely nights keeping me together, you gave me a new lens from which to view, and you made it so easy for me to love you” – “So, wouldn't it make sense if I was yours?” Her voice was barely audible with how nervous she was, and your eyes were almost brimming with tears. You were moved, and, as if on impulse, you threw yourself at her, enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug, as the tears intensified. Worriedly, she asked you “Hey, why are you crying beautiful? Did I do something wrong?”, at her words you hastily moved your head in denial. “I just really like you too, and those words were so touching and profound, it made me emotional”, you carefully rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, “For me, you are just like the dream, one I never want to wake up from. I love you; it will be my pleasure to be yours��� A soft smile drew on her face as she gingerly kissed your nose.

And so, in the quiet embrace of the night, you both found yourselves enveloped in a love that transcended time and space. For in the chaos of the world around you, you had discovered a moment of slow motion, where everything else faded away, and only your love remained, moving in slow, slow motion.

[fadingdaggerr]

would that i

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa knew what love should look like, and learned what it shouldn’t be. learning what it actually is takes time | 3.4k

translations: nonna/nonno (grandma/grandpa), t’amu (i love you) | reminder that sicilian is slightly different from italian in dialect

warnings: allusions to cheating (minimal), allusions to unhealthy relationships (minimal), making up my own melissa lore bc i’m so normal about her, kissing/making out

note: a little bit of this was an homage to my grandparents, the people that showed me what love should be. thank u and love u

When Melissa was in sixth grade, her teacher assigned a two-page essay on what they thought of when they pictured love. The moment Mrs. Erikson said this, Melissa knew she was going to write about her Nonna and Nonno.

Every morning, Nonna made breakfast and coffee, she packed Nonno’s lunch, and always left a note that said T’amu in her flowy cursive. Every evening, Nonno brought in the laundry off the line and folded it while Nonna made dinner. Even when they fought, there was never a loss of their kiss good morning, goodbye, and good night. Only on anniversaries was Nonno allowed in the kitchen, and they’d dance while sauce simmered on the stovetop. Love between them seemed easy and gentle. Melissa spent every Saturday night and Sunday morning across the street at their house, and every time she found something to add to her list of what love looked like and how it should be.

Melissa thought she had found love with Tommy Adkins in eighth grade. She’d even bought a new dress to wear to autumn formal, pink and ruffled and perfect. By the time she was ready to leave, her face almost hurt from the amount of times she redid her makeup so that Tommy would call her beautiful instead of bangin’ for once. That night she watched him dance with Jennifer Milano with a half-baked excuse of him “not wanting to kiss a chick with braces.” Melissa cried for two hours while Nonna told her she was better off, a bowl of pastina pushed her way. She forgot about him by the time Monday rolled around.

High school boyfriends came and went, but in college Melissa fell in love for the first time. A true, deep love with a firefighter-in-training that knew her neighbor. Everytime Joe visited Brian, he stopped across the hall to see Melissa, leaned against the doorway with an easy smile. He was charming, respectful, and funny, everything she had been looking for. Two months after she graduated, he dropped to one knee and she jumped into his arms. They moved from their apartment to a home in south Philly. Melissa worked during the day, and Joe started night shifts at the fire station for the extra pay.

Night shifts began to extend, and Melissa never saw him. He’d eat the plate she’d prepared in the fridge and leave the dirty dish on the counter. Dirt and ash from his boots tracked across her rugs and carpets, scuff marks in her living room. What almost killed her was the dirty cast iron skillet left in the sink. When she brought anything up, he’d deflect and leave. Every now and then, he came home with flowers “just because.” But then flowers began to follow every extra long night, and she could smell the floral perfume that didn’t belong to her and didn’t match the flowers. It took her months to say anything, and all she was met with was eyes that couldn’t look at hers.

Melissa began to think that what her grandparents had could never be hers. A loving life was in the cards, and Joe had only solidified this. She stayed at Barbara’s that night.

—

A few years later, her perspective was changed when a new fourth grade teacher joined the staff mid-term. Never in her years had she allowed someone in so easily, allowed them to be her friend and not just a coworker. Somehow, in two years, Melissa realized she’d never felt so cared for and loved by anyone.

—

“Is there a chance I could pour a cup of coffee before you start bursting my ear drums?” Melissa says when Jacob and Janine start babbling behind her about something she didn’t care about at 7:30 on a Friday morning. Ever since she turned onto the street the school is on, a headache had been growing steadily. Staying up late to finish grading was the worst idea she’s had all month. The two teachers cringe slightly, lowering their volume. When the door opened again for you and Barbara to enter chatting with each other, volume lowering at the sight of Melissa sat at the table with fingers pressed to her temples. She hears a bag drop on the table quietly, opening one eye to see you trying to be as quiet as possible as you dig around.

When you finally stop, you pull out a bottle of ibuprofen and pass it to her. She waves it off, muttering a don’t need it. When you don’t reply, she peers up to see you still holding the bottle out with an expectant look on your face. You shake the bottle, “don’t suffer just to look tough.”

“Melissa Ann, take the damn pills,” Barbara orders from her seat, spooning some sugar into her coffee.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she mumbles out again.

You push your hand forward more, “please. If not for yourself, for your students. You’re irritable when you have a headache.” Barbara chuckles and sends a knowing look to Melissa. Janine and Jacob, on the other hand, turn and look at you, fully expecting the red head to make some harsh reply or threat back to you. All she does is puff out a laugh and grab the bottle from your hands. She decided not to remark on the weird looks she was getting from the peanut gallery.

When getting the kids ready for recess, she sees you peering around the corner to the doorway. She holds a finger to ask you to wait, and gets a double thumbs up in return. After zipping many jackets and helping with gloves, she watches the little eagles run outside in the chilly autumn air. As she walks back into her classroom, she sees you sitting in her chair waiting patiently for her. “You know, I don’t let anyone sit in my seat,” she jokes as approaches.

“Good thing I’m not just anyone, now am I?” you joke, standing to meet her.

She fights her smile as she answers quietly, “no, you’re not.” She takes a second to breathe when she sees a grin cross your lips at her comment, “we still on for dinner at mine tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the grin on your face growing, the giddy feeling in Melissa’s chest with it. You loop your arm with hers and walk towards the lounge.

When Melissa opens the front door, you expect a greeting, but instead you get a groan as she stomps back to the kitchen. Dropping your bag and shrugging off your coat, you walk into the kitchen, placing the box of pastries on the table. Melissa returns to angrily rummaging through the refrigerator, desperately trying to find something. It wasn’t until two hands pulled her back by the shoulders, turning her around. She relaxes into your touch, closing her eyes.

“I’m out of basil,” she says through a sigh.

“Want me to go to the store?” you ask, wanting to remove any stress from her.

“No,” Melissa answers as she opens her eyes, “you just got here, that wouldn’t be fair.”

You laugh, “we could go together. Or we can just be lazy, order a pizza, and not get off the couch.”

“Second one,” she sighs out, pulling away to clean up the dishes she took out. While she’s distracted, you take the time to call in the order, pay, and tip over the phone so that Melissa won’t even have the chance to say herself.

“If there’s pineapple on there, I’m kicking you out,” she yells from the kitchen after she hears you hang up.

“No, veggie. And yes, I asked for no mushrooms. One of these days though, I’ll convert you to being a pineapple woman,” you joke tilting your head back to see her standing behind you, “plus, you wouldn’t dare kick out the person who brought you zeppole.”

She gets closer, leaning over with her hands holding the backrest on either side of your head, “is there chocolate sauce?” The excitement was evident in her tone, bringing butterflies to your stomach. You can’t form words with her standing over you and smiling like that, so you just nod.

Later into the night, the TV played Weeds while you sat in comfortable silence, only breaking it when you both repeated the same joke out loud every now and then. Your legs were thrown over her lap, her fingers playing with the folding fabric of your jeans as she watched the screen. Her subconscious drew her attention toward you, eyes tracing over smile lines and the glowing reflection in your eyes from the TV. She watches you lean forward to grab a zeppole, ready to offer it to her. It’s only then that you catch her stare.

“You okay?” you ask, turning and scooting closer to give her your full attention.

She gives a quick squeeze to your leg, “yeah, hon. I’m better than okay.” She feels even better when you lean into her, placing your head on her shoulder. She drops her head to yours, a deep breath leaving her as she finally relaxes fully for the first time all day.

—

Some time between then and now, things had changed, Melissa wasn’t exactly sure when. At some point the Friday dinners turned into Saturday plans, then Sunday since the farmer’s market was open, no other reason. Breakfast on those days translated to bringing coffee to each other at work, ignoring the questioning gazes of other staff members as she passed you your coffee, despite having never asked how you took it. What had started with you sleeping on the couch when the night grew later, migrated to the spare bedroom.

On a Sunday night, it changed again. You watched the tail end of an Eagles’ game while sitting in her bed after helping grade book reports. As always, your head rested on her shoulder with her own resting on yours. Anytime something that wasn’t a point being scored happened, she explained it to you, though she knew not a thing she said would help make sense of it. It didn’t matter to you, all you wanted was to hear her voice and have her attention.

“Your bed is comfy,” you mutter when the commercials begin before the last quarter.

A smile crosses her lips, “treated myself to a good mattress when I kicked bozo out. Glad you approve.”

“You deserve nice things,” you say as you settle into her more, and through a yawn add, “the best things.”

That night, you’d both fallen asleep slumped against the headboard, leaning into each other for comfort.

Melissa woke up to a rhythmic thumping under her ear and a hand in her hair gently playing with amber waves. The small smile that came to her lips would have been foreign to her if she wasn’t so comfortable, the content feeling in her chest would be almost alarming. When her eyes cracked open, she recognized her bedroom and sheets. She groaned into the cold morning air, and the hand moved from twirling the ends of her hair to scratching her scalp, making her tuck into the warmth beneath her even more.

“Good morning,” you rasp out, having only been awake a little longer, the only response being another groan. She finally rolls off of you, much to your dismay, and sits up on her elbows, looking at you with sleepy, squinted eyes.

“It’s Monday,” she grumbles.

You chuckle, grabbing her glasses off the nightstand for her, “fine, just morning then.”

Something about this morning felt different to Melissa. You’d never spent the night on a school night, let alone sleep in her bed, but that wasn’t what shook her. It wasn’t you making her coffee, sipping it to make sure it tasted right before handing it to her. It also wasn’t that you turned off her alarm and woke her up yourself without making her ears bleed. She thought it could be that you’d opened the door for her on the way out, or how you offered to drive her to and from work to make up for staying late, but not that either.

Maybe it was how she didn’t want to get out of bed, or how her coffee tasted better than any time she’d made it herself. Or how she hadn’t slept that peacefully in twenty years. It could have been how much she enjoyed being driven to work, and having full control of the songs you listened to on the way there, or the fact that she sped ahead to open a door for you this time. She doesn't have time to dwell on it once she gets to her classroom, a knock on the doorframe comes the second to place her purse on the desk.

“I thought you weren’t in today, I didn’t see your car in the parking lot,” Barbara says as she walks in.

Without looking up from her bag as she pulls out folders, Melissa answers, “I got a ride in.”

“Did you now?” Barbara asks with an amused tone. “And would that someone happen to be the fourth grade teacher that practically lives with you?”

“We don’t live together,” Melissa says incredulously, “we just fell asleep, so we drove in together. It’s not a big deal, it’s not like we’re actually together.”

Barbara can’t hide her laugh, “you fell asleep? Both of you? And where was that?” Melissa only mumbles back, so Barbara presses, “where did you both sleep, Melissa?”

“My bed,” Melissa finally says a little louder, but not much. She wants to send her head through a wall knowing that Barb just figured her out.

“Oh, girl. You are in deep,” Barbara says with a smirk. After she leaves the room, the spiral in Melissa’s head goes faster.

Said spiral carries her through lunch, and only stops when you sit across from her and stare at her for a moment. Her face contorts in a what? look before you reach across the table and brush your fingers through her hair. When you pull back, there’s a purple string from the third graders’ projects between your fingers. Barbara kicks her from under the table, and she kicks back with equal force. They both see you look at them weird, before brushing it off and going back to getting your lunch out. Barbara cocks her head to you, staring at the red head, silently telling her to do something. The look the kindergarten teacher gets back replies not now.

When the end of the day rolls around, Melissa is anxious for your eventual arrival in her doorway, keys swinging around your pointer finger. All she could think about since you parted ways this morning was your hands in her hair and your heartbeat under her ear. She hadn’t felt so content and so at peace in so long, the feeling was so new that it almost scared her. Melissa had to remind herself that this was about you, not anyone else. You’d never hurt, belittled, or offended Melissa, you’d never made it your mission to anger or disregard her, nor had you ever tried putting yourself before her. She knew that feeling this way about you shouldn’t scare her, but it did.

The sound of keys and footsteps in the hallways alerted her to your approaching presence, making Melissa quickly rise to her feet and grab her things, realizing she’d been spaced out since the last student left. As she predicted, you stood there spinning your keys, smile growing when she turned toward you. It drops slightly when you see her smile not reach her eyes. “Ready?” you ask.

“Sure, yeah,” she clears her throat, “let’s go.”

You can tell her mind is running into overdrive as you pull onto her street. When you park in the driveway, you unbuckle to turn in your seat and face her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She turns to you with a scrunched face, “what are you, 90?”

You shrug and point to her sleeves, “you’re thinking. You play with the thumb holes when you think.” She’d curse you for noticing if it didn’t make her heart clench. “You don’t have to tell me,” you add, “but I’ll listen, if you want.”

She looks at you for a moment, surrendering with a, “wanna come in?” You only answer by taking your keys out of the transmission, hopping out, and opening the door for her.

The discussion gets put on hold while Melissa heats up leftovers from the night before. She carries both bowls out to the living room where you’re turning on the TV back on for background noise. As Melissa sits down, she faces toward you and you mirror her pose. “Sorry I was acting weird,” she mumbles before taking a bite.

You shake your head, “you’re only allowed to apologize when you’ve done something wrong. Thinking isn’t doing something wrong.” When she doesn’t speak again, you offer up something else, “Ava almost had a heart attack over you this morning.”

She looks at you confused, “were we wearing the same shade of green again?”

“No. She thought you didn’t come to work this morning cause your car wasn’t there, was going off about how she was going to have to sub because there’s still a shortage in the area,” you laugh, “I had to tell her I drove you in, which also ended me in a twenty minute interrogation during my prep period.”

“What sort of interrogation?” she asked, already nervous.

You look down the bowl in your lap as you speak, poking the food around, “the kind where she asks for a detailed account of my whole weekend. Weird amounts of detail too, mealtimes, where I slept, where we went, what shows we watched.”

“What’d you tell her?” Melissa can feel fear creeping into her bones.

“That we went to the farmer’s market, watched sitcoms, and I slept in the guest room,” you answer truthfully, “and what did you say to Barbara?” Her head snaps to you, you lean your head to the side, “she stopped by to ask me about my weekend, she seemed a little too excited to see me if you hadn’t spoken to her first.”

Melissa moves to place her bowl on the coffee table before looking back to you, “she asked why we drove in together. I said we fell asleep, and she asked where we fell asleep. Might’ve told her you slept in my bed.”

“It’s impossible to lie to her,” you say as you copy her move. You’re silent for a moment, then finally ask, “what were you thinking about?”

She takes in a deep breath and exhales to calm her nerves, “this morning. This whole weekend, but mostly this morning.” She glances up, and sees your face had dropped, worry setting in, and she’s quick to revise her statement, “in a good way. This morning, this weekend, they meant a lot to me.”

At her words, your lips stretch into a smile, “it meant a lot to me, too.” She can see you internally question saying the next part, “and you. you mean a lot to me, a crazy amount.”

It’s her turn to smile like an idiot now, a pretty blush covering her cheeks, “you mean a crazy amount to me, too. Being around you it’s... It’s easy. I like being with you.”

“I do, too. Sometimes, when I’m here I almost forget I live somewhere else. The second I step inside and I’m with you, I don’t know, leaving just feels wrong,” you say honestly, eyes flickering over her face as you speak, scanning for a rejection you won’t find.

“Waking up to you was nice,” Melissa mumbles, “you’re a pretty good pillow, if I do say so myself.”

Your airy laugh makes her heart race, it goes even faster when you lean in to reply, “I wouldn’t mind waking up that way again... and again, and again.”

She matches you lean in, smiling, “yeah?” Your noses are almost touching, she can feel your breath just barely touching her face. Her eyes flick to yours and see you looking back, faint lines forming as your lips turned upward as her gaze.

“Being with you makes sense,” you say quietly into the space between you, eyes flicking to her lips then back up.

Her hand moves up to your cheek, warm hands and cool rings holding with gentle affection. Olive eyes look into yours for permission, but your answer is closing the space between you. Her other hand flies to hold your neck, your hands holding her wrists. They slide from her arms to her waist, pulling her closer and crawling beneath her shirt to rest on her skin. She takes the chance to straddle your lap as her tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking for the instantly granted entry. Her lips were soft, savoring the feeling of yours against hers, committing it to memory.

Your arms tighten around her, holding her as if she’s this precious thing, and it makes her only give more into you. Her lips slow, and you can almost feel the love she’s trying to convey in her action. But your lungs can only survive so long, and she pulls her lips away, resting her forehead against yours.

“Stay?” she whispers through her breaths as she recovers.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving,” you mumble back, dazed from her kiss. You duck foreward, hugging her as she still sits in your lap. Her arms circle your shoulders, hearing you mumble into her neck, “I love you.”

She presses a kiss to your head, “I love you.”

Melissa’s heart beat against your ear, calm and steady. The smell of her perfume and honey shampoo flooded your senses, making you nudge into her further. You tilted your head, lips pressing softly to the skin of her neck, moving upwards back to her lips, pressing a long, sound kiss there. You pull away to look at her, smoothing back copper strands.

“Is it too early to go lay in bed for the rest of the night?” you ask quietly.

She huffs a laugh, “I was gonna suggest the same thing.”

By the fifth episode of Weeds, Melissa noticed your breathing even out. She peered down at you where you lay curled into her side with your head on her chest, arm slung over her middle, lips slightly parted. She presses a kiss to your head as she shuts the TV off, and lays there to just bask in you being with her. She’d never felt so adored, so cared for, so at ease. This is was it was supposed to be.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title from would that i by hozier (i’m sure everyone knew that. we’re all gay here)

[guiltysungho]

— Daybreak

genre : tags. fluff, summer romance, small town romance, angst (?), found family (?)

pairing. barista!sungho x fem!reader (she/her used)

wordcount. 3714

a/n. submission for the onedoornet summer event. i love writing stories set in the summer tbh most of my stuff is set in summer lol. this is heavily inspired by summerstrike, favorite k drama !! ty to @ddingdongz + @loserlvrss for helping beta reading this.

@onedoornet

Picture this. An empty room, your empty room, with you in the middle of it taking in the nothingness of it all. You tried to see it a different way, but that was all it was, an empty room that would probably stay that way unless you chose to fill up the space. A thought that often crossed your mind but never got any further.

The summertime somehow made it worse for you, with no plans you were forced to stay 24 hours in that void. The hours you would have usually spent in the office performing remote tasks with radio noise thoughts, you now have to spend in complete consciousness. You would try to distract yourself, but it was always the same thing every day, the same dreams wasting away.

This was the only life you knew; you had a job and place to stay, you had to find contentment in what you had, but it was harder than that. Maybe you had to seek out new perspectives to understand how to live again.

Run away and leave it all behind, the first step would always be the hardest but once it was done, it would be up to you. Small drops make a mighty ocean, right?

One day was all you needed, you would take the first bus in the morning to wherever it leads you and then… you would just try to live for once. Forget that your room is empty and that your dreams aren’t as easy to achieve so you could have a clear mind for the future.

No matter how much you planned, you would never know what exactly you would meet there so you kept the planning minimal, trusting fate to make the day memorable.

At 4 am, you were ready at the bus stop waiting with three other people in complete silence, half asleep as you stood there. The bus arrived soon enough, and you let yourself doze off by the tinted windows, counting the cars passing by.

8 am and you were finally there, you weren’t entirely sure where “there” was, but you were somewhere else and that felt like an achievement in itself. The sky was already well lit up, clear and blue. Everything seemed so new, so different even the sky looked a different shade of blue. The seagulls cried loudly echoing back and forth as you walked along the roadside, the ocean filled the horizon swaying along with the wind, crashing against the sandy beach.

You made up your mind to stay on the beach for a while, long enough for hunger to settle in, and you would figure out your next stop from there. You had been used to seeing crowded beaches so much in your life that you had forgotten how beautiful the ocean was, how calming the beach could be. The fresh smell of sea-life, calm breeze rushing through your hair as you sat there on the sand watching the push and pull.

You thought of taking a commemorative photo, but you had the funny idea to “forget” your phone this morning. You had this useless attachment to it, even when you were doing nothing productive on it. So, you figured it wouldn’t be necessary, and maybe you were right, but you wanted to keep this image safe from the inaccuracy of memories.

It was just as you dreamt it, the quiet, the peace, you could sit there for ages, let the sand envelop you and become a timeless myth, an artifact forever tied to the spot, but you had other plans.

Checking the watch around your wrist, you read the time, 9:43 am. A good time for breakfast. The problem now was finding where to eat breakfast, but you needed to not know so you could want to find out. So, you walked around, letting your feet lead you wherever, through all sorts of streets looking around for any kind of food.

It felt like a long search, but you had walked for less than 30 minutes before you found a nice cafe, deeper into the town, further from the beach but it held the essence of the ocean, encapsulated in all sorts of trinkets decorating the space.

A chiming ring echoed across the room as you stepped in, not a single person in sight for the first few minutes. It seemed empty despite the sign on the door that read “open”, so decided to move on. Almost like he heard your footsteps, ready to walk out the door, a tall young man came out from the back, tying his hair together and out of his face as he smiled at you.

“Welcome, please make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right with you.” You took a couple steps closer, completely hypnotized by the young man’s beauty, taking a seat right by the counter.

He somehow looked the part, exactly how one would imagine a barista in a small town in the middle of nowhere, precisely out of a daydream.

He handed you a menu before retreating back to the kitchen in the back. You scanned through meticulously, picking enough food to keep you filled for the rest of the day.

He came back out to meet you, this time with a name tag on, Sungho you thought as he asked you for your order.

“Long trip?” He smiled at the small list you had picked out from the menu, you nodded in response with a thin smile trying to ignore the urge you felt to stare at him. 

“It might take a few, I’m the only one in today.” you let him know you were in no rush, and just like that he left the room with a thumbs up and a smile.

It was a shorter wait than you’d expected considering it was just him in the kitchen. He’d started bringing over side dishes for you 10 minutes in, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he placed the plates in front of you. A few strands fell out of the grip of the hair tie falling perfectly on his face, he sighed, shaking the hair at his face before looking at you. 

He thought about it for a second, leaning in as he spoke, “Sorry to ask this but could you push this strand behind my ear?” you stared at him wide eyed, blinking at his face right in front of yours.

You reach for the hair hesitantly, carefully pushing it behind his ear. He flashed a thankful grin, backing up completely and out of the room.

After nearly an hour you got your full meal, your first meal of the day, and probably your last, so you ate it like it was. Big portions, cheeks filled, satisfied groans. Completely forgetting the other presence in the room.

He was looking at you, watching you purse your lips as you chewed on the food, the moment you looked up you were met with his stare, your eyes widened from the sudden eye contact.

“Sorry,” he chuckles nervously looking away from you, “…Are you here on vacation?”

“Oh yeah, I’m just here for the day.” you answer finishing the last crumbs off your dish. 

“What are you hoping to find here?” He asks curiously with an amused expression. The question sets you off into a whole explanation on your boring life and your strong will to see new things. You aren’t sure you will find what you were looking for here but that’s somehow part of the journey.

“…I guess I just want to see the world now, instead of locking myself inside.” you let out a light laugh, as if to lighten the mood after your slight rant.

“That’s really cool. I think you’ll like it here.”

“Really?” you beam, he lets out a light chuckle as he nods grabbing your empty plates to clear the space.

“Honestly. I could show you around a bit if you want.” he disappears into the kitchen as he suggests it. You sit  there with a smile on your face waiting for him to enter the room again to accept his proposition. 

“I’d love that, I didn’t really have a plan so you’d be helping me out a lot.” 

“Perfect. I’ll just clear up this place and close up for the day.” you mouth a quiet oh, surprised he would close the whole shop to help you. He notices and smiles reassuring you, “Don’t worry it’s usually empty on Saturdays.”

After a short wait he steps out with a light linen summer shirt, his hair is untied, shaping his face perfectly. When you thought he couldn’t get more attractive he just embodies the idea of a summer crush. He gives you a gentle smile gesturing for you to follow him out the back door, you watch him lock the doors waiting closely behind.

This was one of those things you would have never done a month ago and standing there you realize how absurd the idea of following a man around in a place he knew so well while you knew nothing about was, but for some reason you felt you had nothing to lose in the moment. Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s incredibly attractive.

He introduces you to his bicycle, letting you know that that was his means of transport and so it would be yours. Biking seemed more appealing to you, it had been a while since you had been on a bike so when you hold onto him as he rides by the beach it feels like a lost memory that you had forgotten in the midst of all your working. You listen to the seagulls cry, feel the nice summer breeze on your face as the hot sun taps on your skin reflecting yellow beams onto the canvas.

Even his presence feels like a strongly cemented part of the memory, like he made it whole, you could feel him so close under the thin fabric of his shirt and it made you realize that the touch of a human was something you had been missing for the longest time.

“It’s really nice here.” You hum, resting the side of your face on his back.

“Yeah it feels like home.” He says with a smile looking over his shoulder to look at you. 

“Isn’t it home for you?” He nods as he turns back to the road, turning into streets, waving to the townspeople, before answering you. 

“I guess you’re right..” he let out a light chuckle, his bright smile lingering as he continues, “I actually moved here when I turned 18, I just needed to get away and I found myself here.” 

“Wow, that's such a bold move.”

“Yeah it was so out of character for me but I needed to and it was probably the best decision I’ve made.” he slows down his peddling gradually before stopping in front of a big house. You had been riding uphill for a while and now you could see why. 

The whole ocean right beneath you, you could see everything so clearly and it was so beautiful. You could feel your eyes glistening as you looked at the landscape with so much marvel. A sudden realization that life isn’t supposed to be dull, it’s meant to be filled with beauty and splendor. 

“This is so…” you look around searching for a greater word to describe all that you are feeling but nothing comes close. 

You only realize you are still on the bike once he gets up, taking your hand to help you off as well. He looks at you pleased, that you enjoy the sight as much as he did when he’d been here for the first time. 

“Come, let me show you something.” You follow behind him eagerly, watching him ring the doorbell to the only house that stood on the hill.  

The door opens soon enough and there stands an old lady with the kindest smile and soft rosy cheeks. You watch him give her a hug as he greets her, letting her place a kiss on his head.  

“And this is your girlfriend.” Before either of you is able to deny the claims, she gives you a warm hug. Such a loving hug you don’t want it to end, the type of hug you needed daily. 

“Such a lovely girl, what’s your name darling?” You give her a polite smile as you answer, letting her soft hands hold onto your for a little longer. 

You glance up to find Sungho staring at the both of you with a soft smile, your eyes meet and he gives you an apologetic pout. 

“Mamie,” she turns over to him still holding your hands, “I wanted to ask you a favor.” She rushes over to him. 

He leans towards her and whispers a few words to her, making your curiosity grow, her smile grows as she listens to his request and as soon as he’s done she goes back into her house, leaving you there clueless. 

You turn over to him, narrowing your eyes with curiosity, he flashes a smile before turning away, waiting for her to reappear. 

“Here you go darling.” She walks up to you and hands you an ethereal conch shell. You had never seen one before but you never knew they could be so pretty. You stare at it for a couple seconds completely in awe, before looking up to her with a grateful smile. 

She stretches her arms out once again for you, hugging her tightly as you thank her. “Sungho could use the company. He doesn’t like mentioning it but I know. So if you’re ever thinking of coming back, don’t hesitate, just come, okay?” 

After saying your goodbyes, you get back on the bike, riding downhill back into town. Her words stay stuck on your mind as you ride through the small streets, a reminder that you would be leaving after today and you would have to accept that. Every part of you wanted to stay.  

“Was she a relative of yours?” you ask looking over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around his waist and he peddles. 

“Not biologically. When I first got here I was stranded but she took me in, and I stayed there on the hill for a while.” He explains as you arrive on a market street, a small crowd walking through the street, “This is where the fun happens, trust me.” 

He parks his bike in a hidden spot, helping you off and ready to guide you through the small market. You glance up at him amused by the liveliness in the street, such a crowd in such a seemingly empty town. 

A light tap on the back of your head makes you look down at your hand, you look up at him curiously. He takes your hand in his as you stare into his eyes with a puzzled look, pulling you closer, and leaning to your ear. 

“It can get a bit rough so just stay close, okay?” You nod at him, letting him guide you through the small crowd. 

As you walk together, he tells you about each stand and how the market works, how it changes depending on the month and the regular stands that people line up for. It could have been the least interesting topic but for some reason you were fascinated by the community, the dedication of each person to hold a stand as early as 7 in the morning. 

“Do you hold a stand for your coffee shop sometimes?” He smiles at the question, nodding in response. 

“Sometimes, but it’s mostly for festivals or big events. The market is more for the necessities and street foods.” Just as he mentioned it a savory smell hit your nose, you turn to the stand beside you watching the lady behind it cook the snack with extreme focus.  

He notices you staring and stops in front of the spot, to let you taste the speciality. The lady looks up from her workspace and her expression brightens as she sees Sungho, and even more when she notices you. 

“Sungho! Is this your girlfriend?” He shakes his head letting out an awkward laugh. “What are you waiting for?”

“She’s not from here.” She frowns for a second before glancing at you. 

“Do you like the town?” She asks you, hands still working on the food making. You nod, answering her with a polite smile. 

“She likes it here. You’re stalling.” 

“How am I—“ 

“Here’s a snack young lady, take care of the boy for us, okay?” You laugh softly as you accept the treat, he reaches out for his wallet and the lady smacks his hand. “Keep it and start saving up for the ring.” She laughs a mocking laugh before going back to her work, leaving the both of you stunned.  

Walking away neither of you speaks for a bit, just snickering as you walk side by side, “I’m sorry about that.” He says with a smile, you shake your head completely dismissing it, giggling as you did. 

You walk around a bit more, eating your snacks together and looking at the different stands. Watching the owners show off their craft, getting interrogated by the townsfolk on your relationship. You enjoy every moment with him, even just walking in complete silence feels right and you just met him. 

All your life you had been looking for this, you dreamt of being close to someone beyond the materialistic standards, of being with someone you could just be with and right now that was all you could feel. You hadn’t come to this place to find someone to help you out of your misery but you found someone and it was nice. 

But it only makes you dread the moment when his comforting presence wouldn’t be so close. He stops by one of the stalls, and you follow. A jewelry stand, handmade crafts with sea life trinkets, pearls, shells, squid ink, it is all so unique. You watch him look at the pieces, scanning through the selection before landing his eyes on one. 

He takes it from the display, a teardrop shaped pendant with sea water inside, dangling off a silver chain. He glances at you and then at the necklace, before asking to pay for it. After that he keeps it to himself, fidgeting with the paper bag it was in, waiting for the right moment to hand it to you. 

The walk soon ends and you take the bike once again, this time he rides you down to the beach, almost as empty as in the morning. You sit together on the sand just as you did in the morning and for the first time since you saw him you check the time. 5:27 pm, the day is nearly over, but you’re still enjoying it. 

“When will you be heading back? I’ll take you to the station.” He says quietly, eyes on the vast horizon. 

“I’m not sure I was planning for 7:30 maybe?” He nods, registering the information. “When is the last bus?” 

He turns to you, surprised by the question and somewhat relieved, that you didn’t want to leave so soon, “10pm, they don’t go too late here since nobody is really coming and going.” 

Those 5 hours seem like nothing, you want to stay forever but it would be irresponsible, irrational, you had to go back. You sigh, it wouldn’t be responsible to tell him how much you enjoyed his company today, since you weren’t sure when you would be back but you could feel the words itching at your throat. 

“I really liked spending time with you today, y/n.” He says, staring at the sand below you, voicing out your thoughts before you can. 

“I did too, you really did make me like it here.” 

“I’m glad.” He turns to you with a smile, it takes everything in you to not kiss him then and there. His hair flows in the wind, orange sun shining on his skin.  

“I don’t want to leave.” The words slip out mindlessly, as you stare at him.  

“Then don’t.” His stare shows more intent, all the begging he couldn’t do, his eyes reveal, “You came just like I did, with a backpack and now look at me, I’m running a coffee shop.” 

You give him an apologetic smile, it was too much for you leaving a whole life behind. You could come back eventually, but right now you couldn’t stay. 

“You can come work with me at the shop. The ladies in town are so welcoming, they’ll help you with everything.”

“Sungho… it’s not that easy.” He sighs, nodding as he turns back to the calm ocean view. 

“I know… It was worth the try though.” He laughs softly, you smile, taking his hand in yours. 

“I promise I will come back though.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You feel your heart bounce at the sound of those words, he makes you feel so special in everything he does. 

You stay there on the beach till the sun sets, enjoying the last moments together without thinking of the looming separation that is awaiting you. Once you reach the bus station, it’s about 9:48 pm and time is still moving as much as you wish it would stop for you. 

You look at him once more, one last time, he finally hands you the paper bag with the necklace he’d bought earlier. “A small souvenir, just for memories.” 

You ask him to put it on for you and he does. Pushing your hair aside, standing so close behind you, you could feel his breath. He comes back to your view after hooking it, looking at you with a pleased smile. Such a small pendant, yet it elevates your beauty in so many ways. 

The last call for the bus brings you both back to the moment. You both walked towards the bus the whole way in silence, waving each other goodbye as you entered the vehicle. You watch him out the window, as the bus starts he stands there looking at you. The words are inaudible but you can tell what he says as the bus drives off: “I’ll miss you y/n.”

[topsyturvy-turtely]

✨The Sherlock Holmes Museum✨

221B Baker Street, London

hi turtles! here it comes: the photo post to the sherlock holmes museum. i'll include my favorite pictures & the information i could actually keep in my silly brain (probably none). i'll number the pictures, so you can keep track.

please keep in mind that the place was pretty crowded and i couldn't take pictures of everything in perfect quality/from the perfect perspective.

the entrance (1) looks like this:

i especially loved the little blue sign (2) above and the "policeman" (3) dressed in a victorian policeman outfit - with a sherlock holmes tie 🥹 (i didn't get a picture of that, i thought it'd be weird to take a picture of him)

the living room (4).

there were two comfy looking armchairs, a fireplace (sadly without billy the skull 😔), and in the right corner you see the chemistry set of Holmes. with the violin right next to it.

in general, they tried to create the rooms exactly how Sir Arthur Conan Doyle described them in his books. it was described as small but with two big windows to the west side (was it west?? i can't remember...).

on the left you can see the desk (5), which i think was used by both: Holmes and Watson (not 100% sure about that tho). on the right you see what was hung up on the walls (6) (the guns lol).

on the opposite wall of the fireplace, you see the shooting marks (7), made by Holmes: the intials "VR" stand for "Victoria Regina" (= Queen Victoria) (Holmes' way to say "long live the queen" i guess? this man was fun when bored...)

and i took a picture of the "The Times" page (8) which laid on the desk because... apparently! i was in the musuem on the day Holmes and Watson moved in together (*johnlock heart explodes a little bit*) and you can see the date somewhere on there... (i found it. but i think she lied to us... imo it says july the 5th and i was there on august the 27th (*dramatic voice* UNbelievable! *excessive eye-roll*) (okay maybe i misunderstood her??? idk))

let's move on to Sherlock Holmes' bedroom.

on the bed were laying two boxes (9). one was with... idk random Holmes-stuff (honestly can't remember what she said to that...) and the second was with the iconic deerstalker inside. funfact about the deerstalker: ACD never mentioned this to be a signature feature of our beloved detective. this only became a thing later on. some dude, whose name i can't remember (i warned you about my silly brain), just decided he'll use that in a film production, because it would be much more accessible for the common folk. deerstalkers were mainly used by hunters and the working class. because Sherlock Holmes, who lived in a rather wealthy neighborhood, was a man of the upper class, he would have worn a different kind of hat (10).

this post is part 1 of a series, because apparently you can't upload more than 10 pictures per post (🙄🙄🙄). links for the next parts will be included once all have been uploaded.

-> part 2

-> part 3

keep reading - tag list

tag list! @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @a-victorian-girl @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @safedistancefrombeingsmart

[hexbimbo]

Dbd HC’s | Random Killer Headcanons.

Killers 🔪🩸

Evan MacMillian

Grew up in Cali, Wisconsin, or Oregon. Pick your choice.

Would’ve been an industrial pioneer. If shit worked out, he could’ve been the DBD version of Jimmy Carter.

Took care of baby animals until his Dad found out.

Max Thompson Jr

Best friends with Philip. They just drink and admire buildings.

“Yuuuuup. My old man built a two story backin’ with all the fixings. The chimneys made outta re-enforced galvanized square steel.”

Pig meat is his favorite meat. Pork chops, bacon, collard greens cooked in the grease.

Philip Oromo

Head over heels for Sally.

These two the iconic elderly couple that sit on the porch all day holding hands.

He loves lemonade.

Doesn’t see the appeal of cologne. Prefers natural, soap scent.

Sally Smithson

Wanted two or three kids with her husband.

Probably would follow trad wife TikTok’s .

Knows really weird cleaning tips.

“A snails slime is a really good glue alternative!”

Michael Myers

Sometimes I get autism vibes and sometimes I don’t?

Has to wear a jumpsuit or his skin feels loose.

Gets lost in his own head, enjoys spacing out

Loves eating with plastic utensils, not that the hospital staff would give him metal forks or knifes anyway.

Lisa Sherwood

Would’ve been a Mikaela Reid if she wasn’t kidnapped.

Only killer who lives in the killer shack. Curls up in the warmth of the basement.

Snacks on snail shells around the swap.

Herman Carter

Loves and Hates Freud.

Low key kinda believes homosexuality and being trans can be cured :/

Weirdly, not from like a bigot perspective? More like a psycho brain doctor who wants to experiment on the brain to expand his research perspective.

gives gay man vibes tbh tho hates everyone equally.

Anna

Doesn’t understand human interaction. Can’t fathom romance, libido, or platonic attraction outside of a child-parent bond.

Studied animals. If she could read and write like Momma, she’d write texts on texts on the animal kingdom.

Enjoys the hunt but also respects.2 nature. Never kills to much of one population (unless a nuisance).

Bubba Sawyer

Like, a hillbilly version of Hannibal Lectors cooking hobby. Sloppy, rough home-cooking.

Makes his own sausages with the perfect amount of seasoning.

Gets nervous without his family. Never went out without a family member. Feels too exposed with out someone to rely on.

Freddy Krueger

Kinda just there. Killers are always surprised to see him about. “Oh damn. You’re still here???”

Likes music from the 70s and 80s. LIVES for Johnny cash.

No, he does not enjoy Ring of Fire anymore.

Amanda Young

When she was a junkie, she was a MEAN junkie. Always jonesing out on a street corner or picking fights with her boyfriend.

Red is her favorite color.

The jigsaw puppet brings her strange comfort. Takes good care of designing them, setting them up, and painting them.

Jeffery Hawk

Every time of addict and nearly every type of mental disorder under the belt. Eating, personality, anxiety, depression.

Has not touched a vegetable since he was a teenager.

Def would yell at a fast food worker for putting cheese on his burger.

Rin Yamaoka

She would’ve fucking won life

If she lived her full life, she would’ve broken her family’s curse.

Probably would’ve won a championship, got a doctorate, and become a prime minister.

Frank, Julie, Susie, Joey

Either the most supportive or prejudiced people you’ll ever meet.

I can seem them thinking you’re “radical” if you happen to be queer but that they would bully you for shits and giggles

All bisexual ( except Susie is canon Lesbian I think???I don’t read the comics)

I can’t listen to Sweater Weather without picturing them.

Adiris

Eats the same stuff everyday.

The most loyal and most rewarded killer though she almost always turns down the gifts.

Wants to look like pre-plague self again but relents.

Believes the plague was a sign from her god.

Danny Johnson

Devious. Says the most out of pocket things.

His camera is his most prized possession. Break it, you die. Touch it, You die. Breath on it? Believe or not, you die.

Can’t stand when people talk to him longer than 5 minutes. Doesn’t know why. He just has a hard time paying attention.

Demogorgon

Branches? Nibbled. Hair? Nibbled.

Can’t explain it, won’t explain it. Loves squids.

Lurks in swamp water with Lisa.

Kazan Yamaoka

Best Worst Dad goes too-!

Fr though, was probably a mid dad. Super protective of his blood but didn’t really give a shit about them yknow?

Carried his son to a doctor when he broke him and sent money to the family while on his travels but was never really there.

Was very excited to have a baby though! Most time he spent at home was during his wife’s pregnancy and postpartum.

Caleb Quinn

Had dreams of returning to Ireland when he grew up. Everything seemed so simplistic then.

Made little toys for children as a young adult from nuts and bolts.

Devout Catholic. Prays every night before bed, rests on the Sabbath. Being in the relm has definitely jaded his faith but he’s slowly picking it back up.

Pyramid Head

Given the honor of patrolling the forests for rogue survivors.

Has had survivors smack the booty. #bakeryjustuce✊

Can’t sit still. Always needs to be moving forward. Never backward. Always.

Talbot Grimes

Was really handsome before the blight.

Avid Reader. Gets lost in academia.

Was addicted to opium. Thinks he kicked the habit but would still smoke for “health benefits”

Charlotte and Victor Deshayes

They only speak French ( unfortunately 🤢🤮)

I mentioned Charlotte is a hoarder but Victor does his best to reason with her. Does she really need that coffee tin? She has three already at home.

Victor loves to run and climb. All those years fused with Charlotte made him long for some independence, though he knows Charlotte would be upset hearing that.

Ji-Woon Hak

Probably had an only fans before his career took off.

Def makes thirst traps.

Walks around his home naked (or in boxers during the winter.) Nothing sexual, just likes to air it out a little.

Nemesis T-Type

What’s there to be said

Likes stomping

Likes stompy boots

Hates STARS 🤢🤮😤

Elliot Spencer

Eats oatmeal with no water or milk.

Idk the lore

Probably a tattoo artist who does experimental piercings.

“That brings me pain. But I like the pain. That hurts! But…I like the hurt which-

Painted his nails black before it was hip.

Carmina Mora

Pecks her food.

Enjoys flapping her arms for sensory input.

Uses her ink hands as paint. Anytime not spent on trails is paint time.

Sadako Yamamura

Grunge aesthetic overload ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Bookworm ( reads smut like the morning paper.)

Had really beautiful hair before the fall.

Dredge

Wish it had legs. To run. Closer. Faster. Nearer.

Licks liquids like a cat.

Everyone was sad when Maurice went missing. Eventually, the Entity had to return Maurice because it was affecting literally everyone emotionally. Shrines were made. Truces were drawn up.

Albert Wesker

Autism comfort character. Sue me.

“I understood the sarcasm, Chris. I just didn’t think it was funny.”

Was confused growing up why his larger vocabulary was looked weird or teased by other kids. Don’t all children use the word “ailment” or “peer”?

Burn king. Drops the sickest burns of all time. Never holds back. You, yo momma, and yo sister are done for.

Tarhos Kovács

A good butcher. Knows how to divide and roast many types of meats.

Discipline is key. Conditioned to never take a days rest or sleep more than necessary.

Has panic attacks if required rest or bed ridden. Vittario stumbled into his tent one night and was calmly (screamed) at to exit his quarters.

Makes a mean flower crown.

Adrianna Imai

Tried really hard to make her own manga or manga company. Probably didn’t take off because it was too “corporate-y”

Hates bugs. Will be happy the day they go extinct.

Travels to Japan all the time for vacations and business ventures.

HUX-A7-13 and Xenomorph

A romance has begun.

Enemies to friends to slow burn lovers to enemies back to lovers and-

HUX was so ashamed- how could he develop humanoid feelings for something of organic nature?! Even with its…claws and…hatred for humans…ERROR❤️❤️❤️

Tries to court Xeno the best it can but it doesn’t quite get English or gestures.

“I have procured two human spinal fluids for your consumption. Does this please you?”

Xeno frustrated that the pink metal thing is always near. You’d think nearly tearing it apart the first 10 times would make it go away!

Charles Lee Ray

Him and his wife are in paradise.

Lowkey living it up. They’ve got a home, food, and all the murders to their hearts content.

Tiff loves to bake and cook in her spare time.

Once asked to be returned to his human form. Was denied.

Unknown

Has the best drip.

Major troll. You’ll be pissing on the outskirts of the survivor camp and hear…CRACK 🦴 somewhere in the bushes.

Collects skins. Try’s (and fails) to fit into skins of smaller animals.

Vecna

So mad he’s here lol

Entity nerfed him to hell.

Hates the smell mead and fun.

[sequinsmile-x]

Book of Love

Aaron and Emily's love story, told from the perspective of those around them (and, of course, their own.)

Chapter 2: It’s Full of Flowers and Heart-Shaped Boxes, and Things We’re All Too Young to Know

Chapter 2/2. Chapter 1 can be found here

-x-

Hi besties <3

Here is part 2 of this little (not so little) fic. Thanks for the love for part one - please let me know what you think of part 2!

-x-

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: none

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Spencer 

He arrives first. 

He wasn’t a fan of driving. Usually, Penelope or Derek would pick him up on the way to something like this, but neither of them could this time - both tied up in other plans before they made their way to Emily and Aaron’s house. When he turns into their street, their driveway is empty - their own cars parked in the double garage - and he makes sure when he parks that he won’t be trapped in by everyone else when they arrive. 

One of the benefits of arriving first, Spencer had found over the years, was that it tended to mean you could leave first too. 

When he knocks on the door he hears an excited yell from Jack, followed by the low murmur of Aaron’s voice, the words muffled by distance and thick wood. He smiles when there are thundering footsteps running towards the door just before Jack pulls it open.

“Uncle Spencer!”

“Hi Jack,” he replies, stepping into the house he’d heard about for weeks. Emily and Aaron talked about it on the jet, in the office, and just about any time there was any downtime at work. They’d spent a long time looking for the perfect house, for the place they would call home, and he knew just how important it was to both of them. 

They’d only lived here a few weeks, but Spencer could see their mark on it already. There were pictures everywhere. Framed photos of Emily, Aaron and Jack scattered across the walls and surfaces, mixed in with pictures of Haley, Aaron and Jack, a sign of the family they were now, made up of broken pieces, their edges slotting together as if they should have always been there in the first place. He smiles as he follows Jack deeper into the house, looking at trinkets he recognises from Emily’s old apartment alongside ones from Aaron’s, making sure he’s listening to the little boy’s excited rambling

“I’ve got to show you my school project,” Jack says excitedly “We’re building a solar system. Mom has been helping me, but she said that you-”

“Jack,” Aaron says, smiling softly as both Jack and Spencer look over at him. He’s standing in the hallway, looking as relaxed as Spencer had ever seen him, an air of happiness about him that he thought he lost. Buried alongside Haley and signed away with his divorce papers. “At least let him settle in first,” he looks up at Spencer, “Emily’s in the kitchen, do you want a drink?” 

Spencer nods and follows him further down the hall, “It’s a nice house.” 

Aaron smiles at him over his shoulder, “Thanks, we love it.” 

As they walk into the kitchen, Emily looks up from the vegetables she’s chopping. She looks just as relaxed and happy as Aaron does, “Hi, you’re the first one here. Do you want something to drink?” 

He nods, his lips pressed together, “Yes, please.” 

Emily smiles and slips past Aaron, her hands on his waist as she heads for the fridge and gets Spencer a glass of water. He takes a moment to watch them together, to observe the simple, easy, way they exist around each other. Aaron takes over the meal prep she’d been doing when they walked in, throwing a wink at her when their eyes meet that Spencer thinks he doesn’t realise he’s seen. She walks back over, glass of water in hand, and she places her free hand on Aaron’s back, drawn to him in a way Spencer had watched them fight in the office on countless occasions. He could see it in how they held themselves, their body language giving them away as they reminded themselves where they were. Emily would cross her arms to stop herself from reaching out to touch Aaron when he was particularly impacted by a case, and he would do the same, his grip so tight around his own muscles that Spencer could see the wrinkles in his shirt when he let go. 

They made sense together. Their shared, but different, pasts making them understand each other in a way Spencer thought anyone else might struggle to. He just hoped that one day he might find someone who understood him the same way Aaron and Emily did with each other, a type of love that seemed easy but that had been hard won. A prize at the end of the longest road, an unsteady path that he was still walking himself. 

“JJ and Will are on their way,” Emily says, passing him his drink as she stands next to Aaron at the kitchen counter, so close to him that her hip bumps against his, “Henry’s coming too, so there will be three of you at the kids table.” 

Spencer laughs, shaking his head as he purposely ignores the ongoing joke about his age, “Do you need any help with anything?” 

She shakes her head and picks up a glass of wine, bumping her hip against Aaron’s again, smiling up at him when he looks at her, “Aaron’s doing most of it, I’m mostly just here for moral support. I’d offer you a tour,” she says, smiling as she looks past him and sees Jack in the hallway, his excitement making him fidgety, “But I wouldn’t want to take the honour from Jack.” 

Jack steps into the kitchen, “Now he has a drink can I show Uncle Spencer my project?” He asks, his eyes wide and full of hope, “And the house?” 

Aaron nods, “Of course, buddy.” 

Jack beams and looks at Spencer, “Come on, we’ll start in my room.” 

Spencer nods and follows him out of the kitchen, casting a glance back over his shoulder to see Emily reach up to kiss Aaron, a quick thing that he looks away from, embarrassed for a reason he doesn’t entirely understand, as if he was intruding on something. 

“Uncle Spencer?” 

He turns and looks at Jack, smiling and nodding as he follows him up the stairs, “What did you use to make Mars?”

“A ping-pong ball dipped in glitter. It went everywhere. Mom says we’ll be finding it for years.” 

The thought of it makes Spencer smile, and as he walks up the stairs he imagines Emily and Aaron 10 years from now, complaining about flecks of red glitter caught in between the floorboards.

___

Penelope 

She’s pulled from her work by a knock on her office door. She knows it’s Aaron without having to see him, the controlled nature of the two quick raps against the heavy wood giving him away before the door opens. Penelope turns in her chair to smile at him, and her interest in whatever he’s in here for on a Wednesday afternoon is piqued the moment she sees how nervous he is. It’s out of character, and if it wasn’t for the slight smile curling up into his cheeks, and the appearance of one of the dimples that Emily made no secret of her love for, Penelope would think something was wrong.  

For a few seconds, he stands there, one hand in his pockets as the other scratches the back of his head. If it were anyone else, she’d call it adorable, but it was Aaron, and no matter how much Emily tried to convince her that he was exactly that, Penelope had never been able to see it. Eventually, she takes pity on him, pulling out the chair next to her, and she pats the seat, smiling at him encouragingly like he was a small child - not her over 6ft, usually fearless, boss. 

“Pull up a pew, sir,” she says, her smile getting wider as their eyes meet “How can I help?” 

He sits down, his hands twisted around each other on his lap, the light catching on pale white scars across his knuckles, “I…need a personal favour.” 

She gasps excitedly, “Is it Emily related?” She asks, and he sighs, answering her question with a simple exhale, and she has to press her lips together to try to contain herself, “It is Emily related.” 

She’d been delighted by their relationship from the moment she found out about it. It made sense to her, they made sense to her, and on the first girls' night after they told them they were together, Penelope had made sure to say I told you so over and over again, because she had. She’d told Emily. Had repeatedly said that she saw something between her and Aaron, and she was right. Emily had rolled her eyes, but was given away by the fact that she blushed, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she pretended she wasn’t texting Aaron most of the night because she missed him, her thumb tracing over his cheek on the picture of the two of them set as her wallpaper. 

Penelope thinks she’d be sickened by how much they loved each other if it was anyone else. She loved love, she always had, but she’d never seen two people as in love as they were. They were somehow subtle and obvious about it at the same time. They protected their relationship fiercely, but their love for each other was woven throughout everything they did. Bright and beautiful and on display for those who cared to look for it. 

Aaron sighs again, hesitating as he looks at her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in the way they always did when he was trying to profile her, “You have to promise not to tell her.” 

Penelope nods enthusiastically and holds up her right hand, her little finger held against her palm with her thumb and the rest of her fingers held upwards, “I swear.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her, his smile deepening and nervousness briefly forgotten, “Were you ever a Girl Guide?” 

She lowers her hand, “No,” she clears her throat, “But my oath still stands.” 

He nods and reaches into his pocket, and he pulls out a ring box. It makes her gasp, happiness flooding through her as she covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes immediately flooding with tears. When he opens it and she sees the ring she sucks in a breath, all her words caught in her throat as she snatches the box from him to get a closer look. She considers making a joke, a comment about how she couldn’t accept the ring when he was in love with her best friend lingering in her chest. Instead, she’s struck by how romantic it all is, her lips pressed together as she stares at the ring she knows Emily will love. It’s beautiful, the solo, but well sized, diamond shining as she tilts the box it’s sitting in side to side. She can picture it on her friend’s hand, can see it adding to her undeniable beauty. 

“Do you think she’ll like it?” 

She looks up at him again and she nods, “She’ll love it,” she says, “What do you need my help with?” 

“I’m planning on proposing on Saturday evening. Jess is taking Jack, and I’m taking Emily to the restaurant where we had our first date. And then we’re going on a walk down the National Mall,” he smiles softly, “She’s always loved it there.” His smile is nervous again as he takes the box back from her, smiling softly at the ring before he snaps the lid shut, “She can be self conscious about her thumb nails, and I don’t want her to think about it when…having a manicure isn’t usually her thing but…” he clears his throat, his cheeks bright red even in the relatively low light in her office, “I was wondering if you’d take her to get her nails done on Saturday,” he says, clearing his throat, “I’ll pay, for both of you, it’s just an idea I had…”

He carries on, overexplaining in a way that was out of character, and all of a sudden, she could see the side of him that Emily had spent the better part of 18 months trying to convince her existed. He’s sweet, adorable and unbelievably in love with her friend, and if she wasn’t so happy for the two of them, she’d be jealous she hadn’t found love like it herself yet. 

“Of course, I’ll take her for a manicure,” she says, cutting over him, “And you don’t have to pay. I’ll just tell her I need some girly time or something.” 

He nods, his relief clear as he relaxes, “Thank you.” 

She picks Emily up on Saturday, desperately trying to keep her cool when she watches her and Aaron say goodbye to each other, exchanging a kiss and a hug on the porch of their home. She somehow manages to keep her excitement to herself when Emily tells her all about the date Aaron has planned, how she’s excited to spend some rare one-on-one time with the man she loves. 

When they come into the office on Monday, wide smiles on their faces and the ring on Emily’s finger, Penelope finally blurts out that she knew, delighting in the shock on Emily’s face as she puts the pieces together, her eyes fixed on the red nail polish on her fingernails. 

___

Elizabeth

She couldn’t lie and say this is how she’d imagined her daughter’s wedding. 

She’d always pictured a grand affair. All of her friends and associates invited so they could watch Emily get married. She’d imagined a huge venue, a dress specifically designed for her and a husband from within their circle. She’d never thought Emily’s wedding would be in the backyard of one of her friends, nor that she’d marry the man who had once just been her boss whilst wearing a dress she’d bought off the rack. 

Then again, Elizabeth wasn’t sure she’d ever imagined Emily quite this happy, and that made guilt flicker low in her stomach. 

She knows she should have gotten used to Emily’s ability to surprise her a long time ago. She hadn’t ever really been what Elizabeth had expected her to be, had pushed boundaries as soon as she learnt what they were. Elizabeth wasn’t stupid - she knew she wasn’t what Emily expected either. She could see it in her eyes sometimes, the mix of sadness and frustration that she knew she was responsible for but didn’t know how to undo. Their inability to meet each other's expectations was what always caused contention between the two of them. They were prone to burning the poorly structured bridges between them, to knocking down the foundations that had never been on solid ground and throw them back up without an apology, anything that had been said simply swept under the carpet before they built on it again - the ground once again more uneven than it had been the time before. 

When Emily died, when Elizabeth found herself unable to fly home to go to her funeral, too frozen by grief to be able to bring herself to stand over her only child’s grave, she had a lot of regrets. Not coming home for the funeral soon became one of them, yet another mistake she’d made and couldn’t take back, something that weighed heavily on her shoulders until all of a sudden it didn’t - Emily’s return from Paris and the grave so quick and sudden it had left Elizabeth feeling lightheaded. Like everything she’d wished for had suddenly come true, only for her to not know what to do. If possible, things between them became more strained - especially when Emily told her she was in a relationship with the man who had made the decision to fake her death. 

It was hard to accept at first, hard to get her head around, but then she had seen them together. It wasn’t how they looked at each other that caught her attention, or how they were always close enough to touch, but how they lost track of everything else around them when they were together. It was as if nothing else but the two of them existed, and she knew the very first time that Emily brought him to an event that she’d watch her marry him. 

Elizabeth looks up at the sound of Emily’s laugh and smiles softly as she watches her throw her head back, her arms around Aaron’s neck as they dance together. The small dance floor was full of their friends, but they only saw each other, almost cheek to cheek as they dance slowly - entirely out of time with the music playing, moving to a beat only the two of them could hear. Aaron whispers something to Emily, and she smiles, wide and beautiful and looking entirely like her father as she pulls back enough to kiss her new husband. She steps away from him, only letting go entirely when she’s too far away to touch him, their fingers slipping past each other before she turns, her smile soft and relaxed as she walks towards Elizabeth. 

“Hi, Mom,” she says as she sits down, her hands folded in her lap as she looks down at her left hand, her focus on the two rings on her finger, two matching bands nestled together. Elizabeth’s gaze flicks to the red nail polish Emily had insisted on no matter how much she told her it wasn’t exactly bridal, “Aaron is getting me another drink.” 

Elizabeth looks at her profile, sees the happiness pressed into every inch of her face, her smile seemingly ever present, “You look like you’re having fun.” 

Emily nods, and she presses her lips together, her smile briefly tight before she clears her throat, “Well, it is my wedding day.” 

Elizabeth sighs, “Emily-”

“Mom,” Emily says, smiling politely when JJ walks over and hands her a glass of champagne, their conversation briefly pausing as she thanks her friend. It was something that they were good at - playing pretend, halting crossed words immediately and pretending everything was okay. JJ winks at Emily before she walks away again, something passing between the two of them that Elizabeth is sure is about her. Emily grips the stem of the glass but doesn’t take a sip, “Please. Not today.” 

“I’m not trying to…” she drifts off and shakes her head, “I’m happy for you, Emily.” 

Emily smiles at her, pressing her lips together as if she’s trying to contain it, and she nods, “Thanks, Mom. I’m happy for me too.” 

Jack runs over, his eyes wide with excitement, coming to a stop with his hands on Emily’s knees, smudging something against the white satin, leaving behind a small stain Emily either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about, “Mom, can you dance with me?” 

Elizabeth feels her breath catch in her chest, the casual way the little boy called her daughter Mom something she still wasn’t used to. She knew Emily was still getting used to it too, even though it had been happening for months, the switch from Emily to Mom quick and simple, as if it was something they’d always been walking towards. Elizabeth watches as she places her champagne down on the table next to them and grabs Jack’s hand, kissing the back of it before she links their fingers together and stands up. 

“Of course, sweet boy.” Emily says, squeezing his hand as she looks back at her mother, “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

She’d always known that Emily would be a better mother than she was, but seeing it play out in front of her was strange. It was nice, wonderful even, but it makes regret for things she cannot change flicker in her gut, every moment she’d put something else ahead of her daughter flickering in front of her like a showreel she can’t switch off. 

“You two have fun,” she replies, watching as they walk over to the dance floor, Emily’s arm around Jack’s shoulders as they talk to each other. Aaron joins them and hands Emily a drink that looks like water. Elizabeth looks at the untouched glass of champagne, and then back at her daughter and her family. A knowing smile spreads across her face when Aaron’s hand skims over Emily’s stomach for a fleeting second, a loving look sparkling in their eyes before she kisses him. 

This wasn’t how Elizabeth ever imagined her daughter’s wedding, but it was infinitely better.

___

Aaron & Emily

Emily groans as she settles on the couch, barely covering a wince as she tries to get comfortable. She sighs contentedly, the sound turning into a yawn as she holds her son against her chest, smiling at the grunting sound the two-day-old makes in his sleep. 

“You did a real number on me, sweet boy,” she says, kissing his hairline, tilting her head to look down at him properly, overwhelming love she still wasn’t used to washing over her in a wave, “You’re worth it, though.” 

Her labour had been long and drawn out, pushing her to her limit physically and mentally. Aaron had been there every step of the way, ensuring that he was whatever she needed him to be - every part the supportive partner she’d always secretly hoped she’d do this with. Just as she thought she had reached her limit, that she couldn’t do it anymore, he was there, encouraging her as their son, Zachary, slipped from her body into her waiting hands. Tiny and screaming and furious as she pulled him up and laid him on her chest, bringing her face to face with him after months of imagining exactly what he’d look like. 

It was their first night home, 2.34 am the last time she checked the time, and even though she knew she should be sleeping, she couldn’t. She was exhausted, worn out in ways she didn’t think were possible, but strangely wired. Some kind of primal instinct thrumming in her veins that makes it feel impossible to put her little boy down and get some rest. Zachary grunts in his sleep again, making noises she didn’t know babies could make, and it makes her chuckle. 

Whoever said you should sleep when the baby sleeps, had clearly never actually had a baby. 

She hears the master bedroom door open upstairs and she smiles, stamping her lips against Zachary’s forehead, “Daddy is coming to see us Zaccy,” she says, kissing him again, breathing him in, the sweet scent of him her newest addiction, “He’ll snuggle with us for as long as we want.” She looks up as she hears Aaron walk into the living room, his smile soft and sleepy in same way she thinks hers must be, “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he replies, walking over and dropping a kiss to the top of her head, “Everything okay?” 

She hums and nods, “We’re okay. I can’t sleep, Which…feels insane because I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired,” She looks back down at Zachary, “I just don’t want to put him down.” 

Aaron settles on the couch, ensuring he’s careful and doesn’t jostle her too much. He apologises when she winces anyway, his hand on her sweatpants covered thigh, “Want me to get one of your ice packs for you?” 

She unhooks one of her hands from around Zachary and cups Aaron’s cheek, tugging him into a quick kiss, “In a little bit,” she says, kissing him again before she settles against him, “But let's just sit here for a little while.” She smiles down at her newborn, taking the time to run her finger back and forth over his cheek, then the slope of his nose and the cupid bow on his lips, “He’s perfect, isn’t he?” 

“Of course he is,” Aaron says, kissing her temple, “He came from you.” 

She laughs and turns her head, her lips catching his jaw, “I can’t believe he’s here. He’s…ours.” 

They first started trying for a baby shortly after Aaron proposed. She knew she wanted this, that they wanted this, and she was highly aware that they could be running out of time. She was surprised at how quickly she’d fallen pregnant, her disbelief leading her to take five tests in their ensuite, all of them lined up with positive results staring back at her. It made her grateful that they’d agreed on a short engagement and that she still wasn’t showing at their wedding, the baby that turned out to be Zachary just her and Aaron’s little secret.

Aaron squeezes her shoulder and leans down to kiss her neck, “That feeling never quite goes away,” he says, squeezing her shoulder again, “Just so you know.” 

She chuckles, a sound he’d fallen in love with long before he could admit it to himself, her joy the very thing that had injected colour back into his life again, rescuing him before he even knew that he needed to be rescued. She’s going to say something, but she’s cut off as Zachary wakes up, his face screwing up as he wails loudly. 

“Oh, tell me all about it, kiddo,” Emily says, lifting him to kiss his cheek, “Are you hungry?” She chuckles when Zachary rubs his face against her chest, his tiny fingers curling around the neckline of her shirt, “Okay, I get it. I know what I’m good for.” 

“Need any help?” 

“No, we’re okay, aren’t we, baby boy,” she shakes her head at her husband’s offer, determined to do it for herself, and she lowers her shirt and unhooks her nursing bra whilst holding Zachary against her. She scrunches her nose up as he latches on, but smiles when he immediately relaxes. She takes the opportunity to look at him again, his eyes dark and wide as he eats, his tiny hand curled around her finger, “He really does look like you.”

Aaron hums, “I don’t know how to feel about you thinking that whilst he has your breast in his mouth.” 

She pinches his thigh lightly, but her smile gives her away, her dimples carved out in her cheeks undeniable even in the low light of the living room, “He’s never looked more like you,” she replies dryly, her smile mischievous as she turns to look at him, “He’s handsome. Just like his Daddy and his big brother.” 

As if he knew he was being talked about, they hear Jack’s bedroom door opening. They’d done their best to make him prepared for having a baby in the house. They’d spoken to him about the practical things, such as the baby not sleeping through the night and how priorities would change for a while, but also the emotional parts of it too. They’d assured him that having another baby wouldn’t change how either of them felt about him, how the love in their home would only grow and not be divided. He’d looked at them like they were crazy, as if he’d never even considered it in the first place. 

Jack walks down the stairs, the unevenness of his footfall giving away the fact he’s sleepy, and he appears in the doorway, his hair and pjyamas askew and his favourite toy hanging from his hand, “Is Zaccy okay?” 

“He’s fine, buddy,” Aaron assures him, “He just needed to eat.” 

“Sorry you got woken up, honey,” Emily says, smiling at him, “You can go back to sleep if you want.” 

Jack shrugs and walks over, climbing onto Aaron’s lap so he’s snuggled between his parents, his cheek against Emily’s shoulder as he looks down at his little brother, “It’s okay, he doesn’t mean it. It’s how he talks to us.” 

Emily smiles over Jack’s head, her eyes meeting her husband's as their eldest repeats what they’d told him about Zachary and his cries just a few hours ago, “Exactly.” 

Jack smiles, something she feels against her shoulder through the press of his cheek, “Does it hurt?” 

She knew her mother had been horrified when Jack was talking about nursing before Zachary was born. It was part of what they’d tried to prepare him for, and he asked some questions around Elizabeth - something that she’d brought up separately when it was just her and Emily later that day. She was sure she’d have something to say about this - about nursing in front of him - but that was a bridge she’d cross when she came to meet Zachary in a couple of weeks. 

She’d been insistent that they had no visitors until Zachary was two weeks old. She knew some of her friends struggled with it more than others, Penelope in particular, but she wanted this. A perfect bubble with her Hotchner boys, just her and them as they adjusted to this new phase of their life together. 

She tilts her head to look at him. “Feeding him?” She asks, and Jack nods, “It feels…weird. But it doesn’t hurt. Not really.” 

Jack hums curiously, “I love having a little brother,” he says, smiling up at her, “But next time, can I have a little sister?” 

It makes her and Aaron laugh, and she’s momentarily distracted as Zachary unlatches. She passes him over to Aaron, who rests him against his shoulder to burp him as she readjusts her clothing, a routine they’d already perfected. She meets her husband’s eyes for a moment, a sparkle in them that had led her to this - leaking out of places she didn’t know she could leak from and happier than she had ever been. 

She looks at Jack and pushes his hair from his forehead, her chest flooding with warmth and love as he leans into her touch. “We’ll see what we can do.” 

[landinrris]

A Matter of Perspective- A Carlos Interlude

A Carlos pov from the Lando PR fic, in which Lando and Carlos let the internet make their own assumptions about the (purposeful) presence of a new girl in the friend group.* This snippet is based primarily on these photos from yesterday with Lando driving his Ferrari and who is most likely Ed following behind in the Urus (x). *Technically an original female character because I am not name-dropping my girl MC quite yet

Carlos isn’t sure he’ll ever get tired of seeing people make fools of themselves— of seeing how they fumble for their phones and stick them so far out into the road towards the cars they’re trying to film that the drivers could reach out of the window and pluck them from their hands.

He especially doesn’t think he’ll get tired of seeing them do it when it’s in Lando’s direction— Liliana in the passenger’s seat. Like today, for instance. The three of them are going down to one end of the city for lunch, Liliana having arrived the night prior partly for a short weekend holiday and partly to rile people up.

The thing is, Lando has cars that will comfortably fit three people. Carlos does as well. Nice, luxury cars that many people could only dream of having. But Lando’s a little shit at heart, and he’s apparently desperate to get his fill of the Ferrari while they’re home for the week. The Ferrari that only has two seats— not like Carlos’ own four-door that’s sitting snuggly in the garage beneath their flat.

And well, Liliana is also a shit-stirrer at heart, Carlos learned very early on. She and Lando might as well be the same person in some regards. She’d taken one look at their collection and proclaimed that Lando was right, he should get his fill.

Carlos smiled despite himself and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I will follow behind. Try not to run anyone over,” he called over his shoulder, already moving towards the Urus.

“Love you,” Lando called back. Carlos raised his middle finger over his head and reveled in the cackle he received in response.

Now, as they sit in the ever-present traffic, Carlos knows why the two of them are so eager to drive one of Lando’s flashier cars. It’s recognizable and gets attention— draws the ridiculous phones out of people’s pockets that practically upload to social media in real time.

The pictures of Lando in Monaco will not only spread to Lando’s swath of fanpages— with Liliana in the front seat, they’ll spread around the gossip pages as well. The pages that have well and truly convinced themselves of her and Lando’s relationship. The ones in “denial” have suggested maybe Carlos is the one dating her. A few crazier still suggest maybe they’re in some kind of throuple.

There was a time where the thought of the general public connecting him to Lando in a romantic sense raised his hackles. It terrified him to the point that they found themselves resorting to this situation in the first place. Those people who he was afraid of have been drowned out over the last six months, leaving Carlos amused more than anything when he goes online.

He’s less afraid now, especially after his and Lando’s heart-to-heart over Summer Break. He knows their end goal— knows that they’re both comfortable in moving towards a future where they’re both out and transparent about their relationship. Not that it’s still anyone’s business, but so that they don’t feel the need to hide behind assumption more than anything.

These six months have given him a lot of things— a glimpse into what life without Lando might look like, a future that solidifies he never wants to find out, and above all an unlikely friend who seems to be Lando’s Spanish twin who separated at birth.

Carlos can see the people lining the sides of the street as they get closer to the center of the city and feels his latent shit-stirring side awaken. It’s a non-race weekend. No friend hangouts. Not particularly warm outside. A small, microcosm of people are going to lose their minds.

Traffic stops, and Carlos reaches for his phone in the passenger’s seat to shoot off a message to Liliana. “Level 10 chaos engaged.”

She hearts the message and sends back a saluting emoji followed shortly by, “Lando said ur gonna be begging for mercy tonight. My message is please wait til I’m gone tomorrow.”

Carlos probably looks crazy to anyone who’s clocked him, laughing out loud to himself in the car alone, but he truly couldn’t give less of a shit in the midst of delicious chaos.

[babyleostuff]

BOYFRIEND PHOTOS | KIM MINGYU

summary | a sunny date spend with your precious boyfriend

genre | fluff

word count | 974

pairing | mingyu x gn!reader

author’s note | purely inspired by gyu’s recent instagram posts. thank you for giving us the fluffiest boyfriend pics <3

“I’m here.”

Usually you couldn’t imagine grinning so hard over such a simple text, but coming from your precious boyfriend changed the perspective completely. Finally, after all the comeback stress and months of hard work he and his bandmates had to go through, he was allowed a day off.

You checked your outfit for the last time, feeling all giddy of the mere thought of this perfect sunny day you’d spend with Mingyu. Carefully running down the steps, you walked out to the street, almost bumping into the man before you.

“Mingyu!” you happily exclaimed, almost tackling him to the ground with a big hug.

Without saying a word, he chuckled and put his arms around you. It has been so long since you had a moment for yourselves that you’d forgotten how good it is to just simply hug him. No matter how long you’d been together nothing would top the feeling of just being in his strong arms.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, and you could bet a lot of money that he was slightly pouting too.

You pulled back to finally get a good look at his handsome face, adorned by the sunlight, making his honeyskin look even more beautiful.

“I’m so happy right now, you have now idea. I swear I don’t remember the last time I was so excited to go out. And it’s like the universe knew, I mean look at the weather, it's perfect,” he said excitedly, slurring his words which made his lisp come out a bit.

He gave you a big smile, showing his fangs that you adored so much. As you put your hands on his cheeks you asked:

“Kim Mingyu, are you going to kiss me or do I have to wait another month?” you didn’t even get to finish the question properly as he leaned down to seal your mouths in the most delicate kiss known to humankind.

His lips were soft, like pillows against your own, and oh how you’ve missed this. You could feel the tickle of his breath beneath your nose, while his fingers were carding through your hair.

You parted for a second to catch your breaths, but impatient as always Minguy went back in, this time kissing you with a little more force, as he also was dying to feel your touch again. Warmth and the smell of his cologne consumed you. With the butterflies dancing in your stomach, it was almost overwhelming how content you felt.

With a last peck he took your hand in his and pulled lightly to finally get you going, before both of you gave up on an outside date and went back to your place.

“So, where are you taking me today?”

“I found this cute cafe nearby and it looks like a good place to take some photos too.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?” he asked, with a slight concerne in his voice. You giggled at him and put your hand around his arm.

“I know where this is going, you’re just going to use me to take pictures for your Instagram! And what do I gain from this, hm?” you said in a jokingly offensive tone.

“Thousands of other people simping for my boyfriend, excuse me very much. I’ve had enough after scrolling through tens of tik toks saying how hot your “darumdarimda” is.” Now even he could contain his laugh.

After a couple minutes of walking and catching up on what you’ve missed, you hit your destination, and Mingyu was right - this was the cutest cafe you’ve seen in a while, situated in the best place to give you a bit of privacy.

“Here, here! Take a picture,” Mingyu suddenly said. He ran up the colorful stairs, and before you could take a single normal photo, he started doing some weird and funny poses. Not questioning your boyfriend’s antics, you took a couple of photos.

“My phone storage is crying right now. You have no idea how many of your stupid ass photos I have in my camera roll.”

“Do I get at least one day of freedom where people don’t bully me?” he whined. “Also, my own girlfriend? That really hurt,” he frowned while walking down the stairs.

“Also, why are you wearing your sunglasses like that?”

“Like what? Are you going to criticize this too?” Mingyu frowned even more. You would never fathom how this 6’2 man could act like a little child sometimes.

Before he could argue further, you snapped a quick photo, smiling to yourself.

“Cry about it big boy. At least I have stuff to blackmail you with,” you said and went to look for a free table to sit at.

“You hang out too much with the boys, I swear,” he said and pulled the chair back for you. After settling comfortably, you ordered some coffee and lunch and fell back to the conversation from before.

You could feel your heart race, because of how content, happy and loved you felt.

Looking at Mingyu, who was dramatically telling a story from one of their dance practices, where Wonwoo did a step wrong so Soonyoung threw a tantrum, you couldn’t contain your giggles, laughing at how overdramatic your boyfriend was acting.

“Why are you looking at me like that, hm? You don’t want to take photos of me? No problem, going to do it myself,” and he did as he said, starting to take some selfies from different angles.

“Oh stop it, you know I was joking. Here, let me,” you pointed your camera at Mingyu.

You both knew how much you loved taking pictures of each other, saving them as memories you’d have fun reminiscing on later in the future.

You spend the rest of the day in the same atmosphere, bickering, talking and laughing, but most importantly - being in love.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for writing a paragraph on how I want to drop my friends?

(15F for ref, everyone in here is also F and around the same age)

In 2022, I returned from a six-week camp session with friends I only see once a year (pretty shitty experience ngl, but I still had fun), A couple days later, they accused me of stealing this girl's shirt since I was the last one to wear it. I told her I didn't and I wouldn't. I had a similar steal it because. They proceed to accuse me, so to get out my feelings I write this lengthy paragraph in my notes app expressing my thoughts and what I don't like about the group. This never gets sent out, and we stay friends.

In 2023, they went to camp again (for the last eligible year so it was very special to them), but I stayed home due to pre-existing commitments. This was also the time when the notes app trend was going on, a.k .a. where people would post their notes app and all the antics they wrote. I also posted a video like this, and on the sixth slide, I put the paragraph that I wrote in 2022 (it said 2022 at the top). They didn't immediately see this because they weren't allowed to have their phones, but I private the video before they got back due to a mental health issue I had accidentally aired out. At this time, I saw nothing wrong with the paragraph being included because all the issues had blown over.

A couple months later, I un-privated the video because YOLO and the group found it and immediately got hated on so hard for the video. They post pictures of me to social media stories write paragraphs about how awful of a person I am, create lies about me, and comment on all of my Tiktok posts where I talk about the issue, despite me being vague.

I don't know where I stand in this issue because yeah, I didn't go to the trip this year, and the paragraph was admittedly rude, but they didn't even give me a chance to explain, and getting body shamed on a private Snapchat story when they know I had an ED isn't something i think I deserve, but I need outsider perspective.

The paragraph for reference:

I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. The whole entire time I was at camp I felt isolated because I was not as involved and as social with the boys as you guys were/are, and that might not be your fault, but you guys have no care in that being the only thing you discuss on this group chat. Every time I text about something else, it always gets pushed to the side and now you are accusing me of stealing (name)’s top. I agree, I was the last on to wear it, but distinctly remember throwing it back into (name)'s trunk. I am sorry it did not make the trip back home, but it is not my fault. I don’t want your slutty top anyways, I only borrowed it because my ebb to street wasn’t going to work. I have done so much for you guys, like letting everyone borrow my clothes, giving away my lululemon, and while some of my pieces were stolen, I am not pointing fingers at random people because I have control of my feelings. So many words have been wasted protecting the reputation of Cabin 10 from others who think you guys are attention-seeking whores (you want names? It’s the whole fucking camp), and everyone looked at me in pity when I cried into my hands because I was so sad. I have heard you guys talk shit about me in front of my face (*giggling and whispering* Are you going to try out for the play? No that’s weird. Both heads turn towards me, and laughter erupts out of the two mouths. You know who you are), and you guys have talked shit about each other to me, so I can only imagine what has been said about me. I felt ashamed about my passions, the only personality trait you guys addressed was that I was so mean and I was smart (you only revealed the latter on in private, the former was told to everyone). I am done feeling horrible about myself because you guys are so wrapped up in what every (camp) boy thinks of you, so I am cutting contact. You have ruined my camp experience to the point where I am not coming back.

What are these acronyms?

[ruminiscence]

Paris: A Year Abroad in a short film

Audio: "Burnt Norton" by Lana Del Rey, a rendition of the original poem "Burnt Norton" by T.S. Eliot.

Where do I even start? Paris has wholly shaped me in ways I never imagined. We refer to Paris as the city of love, but I'm now more inclined to call it the city of art - which only leaves more room for love in your heart. There is so much to contemplate and appreciate in frequenting the vast array of art museums here - from the Louvre, Musée d’Orsay, Musée de l’Orangerie, the Centre Georges Pompidou, and many more. Not only has my perspective on art expanded, but so has my worldview. That’s because art is truly everywhere in this city; art can be found in the walkable streets amidst the rich architecture, the fashionable outfits seen in daily life, and even the exquisite decor in stores and when you cheekily peek into Parisian appartments!

There's always something new to discover in Paris, I'm almost saddened at the thought of the things I've yet to discover or missed. The treasures to unveil in Paris move far beyond the typical tourist hotspots we all know and love. I am obsessed with Parisian boutiques; they are chic and unique (that unintentionally rhymed) in the best way possible. One of my favourites is La Tonkinoise à Paris, located in the 11th arrondissement. This particular arrondissmenet is the best in Paris to be honest, it holds a special place in my heart as I had the wonderful opportunity of living there, so perhaps you can say that I am somewhat biased. Still, I can confidently say that this animated, hip and creative neighbourhood is one everyone should have the chance to explore.

La Tonkinoise à Paris, owned by the lovely Chantal, is my favourite hidden gem in Paris. I had the pleasure of befriending Chantal as I ended up frequenting her store one too many times; I've garnered quite a collection over time. This boutique offers a wide range of eccentric and sustainable jewellery, with her earring creations being the show stoppers, in my opinion. Her jewellery is composed of rings, pearls, brooches, charms, and watches, all unearthed in flea markets and recycled. I love that every piece of jewellery indeed is a unique piece. The decor changes based on the season and theme of her new collections, making it an ever-changing and exciting shopping experience. This is honestly the best jewellery store I have ever been to in my life! I wish the pictures I took could do the jewellery and the boutique's decor justice, but it simply won't, I'm afraid.

Now, onto food, I genuinely need to figure out where to start here. My favourite authentic French restaurant would have to be 'Le Potager du Père Thierry', located in Montmartre. Although it's incredibly small, I love the cosy vibe; I feel like I can enjoy delicious food with friends without feeling surrounded by strangers. Surprisingly, it's also very quiet (yet packed) - I guess the food is just too distracting.

As of late, my favourite non-french restaurant has to be 'Big Black Cook' (let's ignore how inappropriate that pun is, though funny). It's located in the 2nd arrondissement and serves Caribbean food, my friend claims that it was the best meat she's had!

For brunch, I recommend Café Méricourt in the 11th arrondissement. Their green Eggs & Feta are absolutely incredible and quite innovative as far as brunch places go.

As for a boulangerie - seriously, anywhere, literally anywhere in Paris, go to your nearest bakery; there need not be a big fuss - you're in for a scrumptious baked treat regardless!

I'm ever so grateful for the chance to have lived in Paris for an extended period; you cannot appreciate Paris in its entire splendour from a mere short-term visit. The city is an actual work of art; art is everywhere in the city, from the street performers and musicians, the light filters through the trees, the city's many architecturally rich bridges, the picturesque cafés and boulangeries, the beautifully presented food, the way that the city's many different neighbourhoods each have their own distinct character and vibe. In Paris, art is everywhere.

[sincebrooklyns]

★ word on the street with RILEY GOLDEN ★

first up, roll call: your position at eden and how long have you done it?

"my name is riley, and i am presently the—or rather, a— lead concierge for our vip patrons. i've been with eden for several years at this point. i started off moonlighting as a bar back while i was in college, began bartending, transitioned to sales and have been pretty firmly planted there for a bit. as eager as i am to continue following that upward trajectory, it's easy to appreciate where i am now; life's pretty sweet. i love eden, i love what we do here. we are the pinnacle of FTL nightlife— an absolute must visit."

what’s your drink of choice to make for yourself or others? 

 "i like a good martini. i could make martinis of all varieties in my sleep and they'd be damn good; i'd definitely go with that for myself. as for others— one of my own recipes has become eden's house recipe, and i take great pride in that. i was fortunate enough to have a very special bloody mary recipe shared with me by my beloved late grandmother, that i brought to eden when i was bartending. it became— and remains— very popular at happy hour and brunch, which are of course served on our beautiful patio at our garden bar."

we’re passing you the aux. what’s your number one club classic?

"i really like an early-aughts hip hop, r&b vibe. something like frontin', pharrell. i've actually pitched getting a few throwback nights in rotation on our event schedule. who'd be down for something like that? come by and let us know."

what’s your most iconic night out memory?

"my most memorable stories would probably bore you. my identical twin aidan and i shared one single fake ID when we were underage, because that was all we could scrounge up the money to split. nothing too crazy happened. but it was a lot of negotiating who got to go where when, FOMO, and in truly stunning and strange displays of loyalty, often setting each other up for future success with girls we knew one another liked. that whole time is so funny to look back on, so it certainly feels iconic to me."

what’s your craziest rideshare story?

"i'm uniquely positioned to answer this question because i've got crazy stories from the perspective of both rider and driver. i drove for extra cash way back when. i'd work the odd night but ceased doing those entirely upon finding a bottle of pee under my driver's seat. i found morning riders to be much more manageable. fifty-fifty shot you'd get someone incredibly quiet or someone amusingly bizarre. most of them were traveling to the airport."

what’s your typical fast food order after the clubs close?

"honestly, i'm not drawn to fast food that frequently. every so often i'll crave a burger. i'm on a kick right now. every night, i treat myself to a new roll from our sister establishment, palm sushi club. the sushi there is second to none, even at closing time. my friend is on the staff over there and happens to live in my building. my venmo statements would be embarrassing if palm sushi wasn't worth it."

you ready to kick this interview up a notch?

"and what might that entail?"

truth or dare?

"let's round tonight off with a dare."

open your camera roll, close your eyes and scroll to a random image. explain that image.

"that image would be a picture of my— uh, well, my bare ass. that i am going to ask that you extend the courtesy of censoring. the story behind it is— it's my backside in the mirror. i had fallen asleep at the pool on a trip to tulum, the uv rays were very unforgiving, and as you can see, i ended up horribly red all up there and on the exposed portion of the thigh—it was agonizing to sit after that. i took the photo because of the contrast between the cheeks and the burn. they're as bright as a white sand beach in the sun in comparison. it's funny."

[deathbyclown]

You Again Pairing: Shanks/Buggy Rating: Explicit Words: 3000

Summary: Buggy and Shanks run into each other in a dark alley after years of not talking. Buggy chokes Shanks and fingers him. This is set in pre-canon, before shanks lost his arm and became an emperor. There are chapter 1138 spoilers if you squint but I was very vague.

Notes: I tried something new and switch back and forth between Shanks’ and Buggy’s perspectives so we can peek into how they’re both feeling about this moment. Oh and Shanks is trans in this story. I use the terms t-dick, slit, hole to describe his genitals.

AO3 Link 

“Hey, Captain, we gotta get outta here, a pirate with a huge bounty just showed up on the island! I have no idea what the hell he’s doing all the way out in the east blue, but I’ve heard this guy’s crazy powerful! He recently got into a scrap with Whitebeard and sailed away unscathed afterward!” 

Buggy blinked at Mohji who kept nervously looking over his shoulder, as if this dangerous pirate would sneak up on him. The clown captain shot up from his seat, his half empty beer sloshing in its cup. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner!!” He snatched his hat from the table and shoved it on his head. This day just kept getting worse! He’d finally gotten his his bounty announced from the marines. But when he got his wanted poster he was furious about the terrible picture they used of him!! You could see straight up his nose!! And now, when he finally found a bar to lie low, some other big shot pirate had to go and mess up his hiding spot! He needed to get out of here before they came face to face and Buggy had to fight some hothead over territory that he didn’t even care about. Buggy quickly started to follow Mohji out of the bar but then doubled back, downed the rest of his drink, and rushed out. He’d only been a few seconds behind Mohji but the beast tamer was nowhere to be found once he stepped out into the quiet streets. It was pitch black outside, save for the dingy glow from the bar. There was a new moon, no open shops to give off light, and this corner of the island had no streetlights to guide his path. 

“Mohji!” Buggy called out into the darkness. He waited for a response, but none came. The coward must’ve run off without him. Buggy let out an annoyed huff and moved as quickly as he could down the street, keeping his eyes on the distant twinkling lights of ships docked on the other side of town. It was just his luck that the only bar that served pirates was all the way on the darkest, seediest side of town. It felt eerie walking around in this pitch black, and the sound of his own footsteps echoing back to him off of the stone buildings made it sound like there was someone walking along with him. He picked up the pace, hurrying along the street, his head straight down to watch his feet on the road. He slammed right into another person and he let out a shriek of surprise as they collided, both bodies tumbling to the ground in the darkness. 

“What the HELL-?!” Buggy started to yell, but was cut off by a warm calloused hand covering his mouth. He struggled against the person as he was pulled backward into the alleyway. Buggy bit down hard, his body splitting apart to escape the grip of his captor. 

“Ouch!” The voice hissed, letting go of Buggy’s face. 

“That’s what you get! Now what the hell do you want?!” Buggy held out a dagger in front of him, but he couldn’t see much, just someone slightly taller than himself with a white shirt and a black cloak. 

No response, just heavy breathing between the two of them until the voice spoke up. “B-buggy?” It asked in wonder. 

Oh great, some asshole recognized him. He needed to leave before this stranger turned him in to the marines and collected on his bounty. 

“Fuck off. Tell anyone I’m here and I’ll gut you.” He threatened in his deepest voice, one hand shooting out to push the person against the wall. 

“Oh my god. Its you. Buggy, it’s me, Shanks. I can’t believe you’re actually here.” Hands reached out to grab him gently, as if uncertain if he was a hallucination. Buggy dropped the hold he had on Shanks in shock. He lowered the dagger, stepping closer to look, to make sure. He could see the red hair, the handsome smile, a fresh scar. Buggy immediately took a step back out of Shanks’ reach and held the dagger up once more. 

“What are you doing here? I told you we’d be enemies the next time we met!” He barked, sounding braver than he felt. He didn’t know what it meant, to see Shanks now, to meet him alone in this quiet place. He hated him, was furious with him, wanted to stab him and twist the knife…but he also wished he could see his face more clearly. He wanted to step closer again, wanted to feel his warmth, to touch his hand. It was like seeing someone come back from the dead, and his chest ached at seeing even the shadow of Shanks again. 

The redhead let out a sigh and closed the distance between them, easily grabbing the dagger from Buggy’s hand and tossing it to the ground. He pulled him into a hug, the embrace so tight, so warm, it brought tears to Buggy’s eyes. 

“Oh, Buggy, I missed you so much. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” Shanks whispered, holding him tighter. Buggy was exactly the lifeline he needed after his strange journey following their split. Thanks to Roger, Shanks knew his true heritage, knew his real family, and he felt obligated to at least meet them. He didn’t have much to go off of except his full name, but it would be enough. He made the long journey across the Grand Line and once he found them, he struggled to even get his family to meet with him. Eventually they agreed. And after talking, after seeing him, they brought him into the fold and did everything they could to erase any piece of him that was a pirate. He tried so hard to fit in for people that didn’t like him. He did everything he could to become a member of the family, to assimilate, but no matter what he did, he felt unwanted. It hurt, deeper than anything, to know that he was presumed dead by his family for so many years and now that he was here, alive and strong and healthy, they would’ve preferred simply to never have known him. He left this ‘family’ of his, and ran away back to the seas, to his true home. He searched for the remnants of the Roger Pirates, his preferred family, the ones who loved him for him, like Rayleigh, Buggy, Gaban, but they were nowhere to be found. Dispersed, deceased, or in hiding. He had no way of knowing. That realization had him feeling lost. Alone. disconnected. But right here, right now, was the one person he wanted to see the most after his struggles, after the tumult of his journey, after being disowned. Buggy. 

Guilt surged within both of them, enough to have Shanks hold him flush, and to have Buggy squirming in his arms.  Shanks was ashamed to admit he had assumed Buggy died. He hated that he thought it. The little nagging voice in the back of his mind would spin the worst case scenarios and he’d have to try and resist those terrible thoughts. He often lied to himself, that Buggy was alive and well. But here he was, actually alive and well. He was so lucky. They both were. He never wanted to let go of him again. 

Buggy, however, felt guilty for betraying himself, for being so weak-willed that he felt relief from being in Shanks’ arms. After struggling for so long on his own, it felt nice to be held by someone stronger than himself. And the way Shanks held onto him, he felt wanted, desired, appreciated without having to put on a show to earn that attention. 

Shanks pressed his face into Buggy’s exposed neck, that feeling of warm soft skin was addicting. He just wanted to part his lips and taste him, take a bite, so he could keep Buggy with him, always. 

The feeling of Shanks’ scratchy beard, his wind-chapped lips, that pointed nose brushing against his sensitive skin, breathing him in, felt intimate, too intimate for a man that was practically a stranger to him now. But he couldn’t bring himself to step back, to push the red-head away. 

Shanks cupped the back of his head and brought their foreheads together, their noses touching. Buggy grunted, tensing at the feeling of Shanks’ touching his nose, terrified at the revealing proximity. He bared his teeth in discomfort but relaxed marginally, captivated by Shanks’ intensity. 

“I’m sorry, Buggy. I’m so so sorry. I should have chased after you. I shouldn’t have let you go.” Shanks whispered between them, his warm breath puffing against Buggy’s lips, his mouth parted just enough to taste him, to taste alcohol and regret on his breath. 

“You dumb motherfucker.” Buggy hissed under his breath, shoving Shanks’ shoulders, pushing him against the stone wall of the alleyway. 

Shanks gasped as the unforgiving stone dug into his back, equal parts painful and pleasurable. Not seeing Buggy for so long opened something inside of him, made him ache, made him feel as though he was awake for the first time in years. He deserved Buggy’s abuse, his insults, his manhandling. Every rough touch, each mean word had him craving more. With the way things had been going recently, he felt like he earned it. Buggy made him remember why he was a pirate. He had to take control of his life, had to do what made him happy, to take what he wanted. And what he wanted more than anything was Buggy. 

“You’re damn right you’re sorry, you selfish asshole!!” Buggy shoved him again, harder. Buggy’s hands itched to hurt him, to shake him like a ragdoll until he felt better. He knew no amount of cruelty to Shanks would help ease the ache inside of him, but he’d try anyway. He wrapped his hand around Shanks’ throat and pinned him to the wall, crowding him. He was torn. Between punishment and reward; would it be worth it to take what he wanted but hurt himself in the process? 

Shanks gasped, hands shooting out to grab onto Buggy. He’d accept anything from him, pain, pleasure, cruelty, love, but he wouldn’t let him go. He couldn’t bear to feel any distance between them. 

Buggy crashed their lips together, forceful and sloppy in the heavy darkness. Shanks pulled desperately at Buggy’s coat, wanting him closer, his mouth working madly over Buggy’s. With hot wet panting kisses they smothered each other’s mouths, eating away at each other, selfish and hungry. Buggy’s grip on Shanks’ throat tightened, squeezing the breath from him, swallowing down his air. Shanks’ fingers spasmed in Buggy’s coat, a moan vibrating his in throat, stuck there without the breath to send it into Buggy’s waiting mouth. 

Buggy pulled away, easing his grip on Shanks, angry tears wetting his eyelashes. The red head deserved more, deserved pain and hurt, deserved everything he put Buggy through, everything he’s felt for years. But the taste of him, the feel of his lips and tongue and breath, the sound of his voice, his moans, Buggy wanted to keep him, to take what was his all along. Shanks was a long-lost treasure finally returned to him, as he rightfully deserved. 

“Please. Make me feel it.” Shanks begged hoarsely with tears in his eyes, holding Buggy’s hand to his throat. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to drown in Buggy, wanted to be pushed under until all of his sins were washed away. This was his salvation, he just needed Buggy to be his god. Just for this moment. 

Buggy’s breath hitched. An offering. Just for him. In this quiet darkness where no one could see, no one could hear, no one could take it from him. Buggy squeezed his throat once and Shanks moaned for him, the sound sharp, sudden. Buggy pressed harder, dipping his tongue into Shanks’ parted lips, drinking him in, lapping at the tongue beckoning him.  

More. Shanks never felt so greedy, so hungry. He needed more. His hands dragged down the front of Buggy’s chest, over his abdomen, feeling lean muscle, the hard shapes of hidden daggers and tools. He reached the front of his pants and cupped him, the hard line of him so insistent, real. Shanks felt lightheaded. 

Buggy released his hold on Shanks and smacked away his hand. “I’m the one in control here. Not you.” Buggy hissed against his spit-slicked lips. Shanks didn’t have any right to play with him, to tease him, to make him ache any more than he already had. Buggy’s hands slid down to the waistband of Shanks’ pants, undoing the front, yanking open the drawstrings of his stupid board shorts. Buggy tore off his glove and shoved it in his pocket, his other hand back to Shanks’ throat while his bare hand pushed into the front of his pants. 

“Fucking hell, Buggy.” Shanks groaned, his head falling back against the hard stone wall as Buggy’s fingers brushed against his damp curls. Everything in his body was screaming for more. He needed this, needed to feel Buggy’s hands, his desire, his heat. 

Buggy breathed heavily as he explored Shanks’ body. He’d thought about this before, about touching him, feeling him, but what he was experiencing now was totally different from his imagination. Shanks felt hotter, wetter, needier than any of his passing fantasies. Arousal made him ache and he tightened his hand around Shanks’ throat. Even now, Shanks still had control over him, whether he realized it or not, and it pissed him off. He would do whatever he wanted to Shanks. This was his moment. He dragged his fingers through his gushing slit and explored him, rubbing over his t-dick, gliding his fingers along his folds, pushing his fingers into his hole. 

“Buggy.” Shanks whined, eyelids fluttering as the clown pirate immediately pushed two fingers into him. How did Buggy know exactly what he wanted, what he needed? The feeling of his strong fingers pushing into him, curling just right, coaxing his slick arousal, made him crave more. He needed everything Buggy gave him.  

Buggy was in over his head, too inexperienced to be in this position, but he couldn’t stop himself. Shanks pulled him in deeper, swallowing his fingers, soaking him. He’d show Shanks just what he’d been missing, make him regret what he gave up by leaving Buggy alone for so long. “So wet. Just for me, huh?” Buggy breathed against his cheek, pressing the sides of his windpipe.  

Shanks let out a choked moan, clenching around the fingers that moved so deftly inside of him. Buggy could see right through him, make him face what he already knew. That vulnerability, that exposure, it made heat surge through him. Only because it was him. Only because it was Buggy. 

Buggy’s hand moved faster, the wetness spreading to his palm, gushing to Shanks’ t-dick, making the friction smoother. Shanks twitched and trembled with every harsh thrust of Buggy’s fingers. He tried to take a deep breath, but his air was restricted to shallow panting. He was starting to feel dizzy, his world shifting slightly, but it was harder to tell in the darkness. He could swear he was beginning to levitate. 

“Bug.” Shanks gasped, fisting Buggy’s coat. He felt like he was swelling, like he was becoming a balloon about to pop or float away and all he could do was hold on for dear life. 

Buggy groaned, squeezing harder on Shanks’ throat as he pounded into him, stretched him open with three fingers. Buggy wanted to taste, wanted to feel Shanks on his face, feel him dripping down his chin, but he refused to get on his knees for this selfish bastard. He bit Shanks’ earlobe instead, hard enough to leave indents. He needed Shanks to feel it all, to know, to understand that Buggy could mold him, could squeeze him between his fingers like putty and Buggy wouldn’t bend one bit. 

“This is my reward. I deserve it after you kept me waiting for so long. You have no right to do anything except take what I give you. You should be grateful.” Buggy whispered harshly into Shanks’ ear, starting to feel high on power. 

He was unbelievably grateful. He couldn’t ask for anything more than this. But he couldn’t say a word, every one of them stolen away by Buggy, by his firm hold, by his coaxing fingers.  He wanted to tell Buggy that he accepted his terms, that he’d tolerate anything to earn his trust, his favor, his love.  

Buggy’s hands played him, manipulated him, pushed him over the edge. Shanks’ eyes rolled back in his head and his body convulsed as heat surged through him, sharp and so powerful that he squirted over Buggy’s hand as he came hard, using up what little breath he had left. He saw white, saw stars, his body felt totally warm, like being dipped into a bath. 

Shanks slumped and fell forward onto Buggy, who awkwardly held onto him, in shock from Shanks’ intense orgasm. “Shanks, you lazy asshole, stand up on your own!” Buggy grumbled, pushing Shanks off of him, but Shanks fell backward, tilted, and crumpled to the ground. Buggy cursed, his heart pounding in his ears. He crouched down to shake his shoulder. Maybe he choked him a little too hard. Shanks didn’t move. Buggy’s blood turned to ice. He shook him a little harder. Still no movement. Holy shit. He killed Shanks. Buggy glanced around, still unable to see much, but it seemed like no one was nearby. There was no way he was going to get blamed for this! He needed to get the fuck out of here. Buggy bolted, hurrying down the darkened streets, panic filling his senses. No one could know about this, he had to get out of town as soon as possible. 

Shanks blinked, his throat aching, his breathing a little labored. Why was he on the ground? He sat up, and he felt his world shift slightly. His head started to pound and he rubbed at his eyes. His pants were uncomfortably wet, his mouth was greasy with lipstick, and now he was covered in dirt. What the hell happened? He glanced around. Buggy. Where did Buggy go? Shanks stumbled to his feet, still feeling a little dizzy. Buggy was nearby, he could sense it. He needed to find him. He couldn’t lose him again.  

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Paper Rings

Pairings: Colin + Penelope Bridgerton

Summary: A snippet into how Colin and Penelope’s wedding might turn out.

Masterlist | Albums | Lover Album

The wine is cold, like the shoulder that I gave you in the street. Cat and mouse for a month or two or three, now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe.

Colin’s feelings for Penelope grew softly like a burning candle - the feelings were always there (it’s why he always looked for her at every ball and social situation), it just took him far too long to feel the warmth he had become accustomed to.

He had watched her from the other side of one of the many ballrooms they found themselves him, he had always searched for her. It wasn't until after their kiss - that his feelings for her hit him square in the face.

They had just watched Francesca marry Lord John Stirling, and his little sister Fran had just become the Countess of Kilmartin. He had always cried at weddings, his little sister's was no exception. Colin knew he would cry when Penelope walked down the aisle in three days, to share their life together.

He reached over and took his fiancée's hand in his to stop her from following the congregation out of the chapel. "Hello, you," he smiled down at her.

"Hello," Penelope says quietly, she had told him last night that she was the writer behind the Lady Whistledown sheets. He had a fairly sleepless night as he came to terms with the woman he loves more than life itself - is the same vindictive woman who announced Lady Crane's pregnancy, and nearly destroyed Eloise's reputation.

But, as he looked at what had happened the previous seasons - looking from Penelope's perspective. She saved him from a loveless marriage to a woman who would have tried to tell him her twins were his, she saved Daphne from a dreadful courtship and potential marriage to Lord Berbrooke, she saved Eloise from the goddamn Queen of England!

"You, my beautiful bride-to-be, are bloody brilliant!"

Penelope looks up at Colin in surprise. Those weren't the words she expected him to say. She blinks a few times, trying to understand if she heard him correctly.

"You have had the entire ton wrapped around your little finger for three years. They wait for any kind of gossip coming from you. You have hidden your identity from them all this time!"

He takes her by her hands and spins her around in the middle of the aisle. "I can not wait the next three days until the moment when we are standing at that altar," Colin points up at the altar. "And we exchange our vows."

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings, uh-huh, that's right, darling, you're the one I want! And I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this, uh-huh, that's right, darling, you're the one I want! In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams. Oh! You're the one I want!

Colin felt tears coming to his eyes, as he watched Penelope walk down the aisle, on the arm of her brother-in-law, Mr. Dankworth. He had always been one to get emotional at weddings, he did at Daphne's and both of Anthony's, he nearly sobbed when his baby sister Francesca tied the knot. But, now, it was his turn.

The sunlight shining through the windows bounced off her red curls, her veil gently laying against the back of her head, a beautiful bouquet gripped tightly in her hands with a single ray of sunshine shining from the engagement ring which had once belonged to Violet Bridgerton, the sole believer that two people could go from being just friends to more.

She met him in front of the altar, smiling up at him as Mr. Dankworth stood only slightly between Colin and Penelope, waiting for the cue from the officiant to pass Penelope over to Colin (a part of her transition from Featherington to Bridgerton).

"Who gives this woman away?" He asked.

"I do," Mr. Dankworth said, leaving a familiar kiss on Penelope's knuckles, shaking hands with Colin and making his way back down the steps to the Featherington side.

Kiss you once ‘cause I know you had a long night, kiss you twice ‘cause it’s gonna be alright, three times ’cause you waited your whole life.

For once in his life, Colin didn’t care about a wedding breakfast. He wanted to go to his new home with his new wife and do unspeakable things to her. Well, unspeakable to the rest of the ton…

Even though he said he didn’t care about the wedding breakfast - that does not mean he wasn’t going to eat. That would be completely out of character for him.

But he was going to make it well known how much he adores his wife.

Eventually, Portia got sick of looking at Colin fawning over her third daughter (her two other sons-in-law hadn’t acted like this when they got married, or since in front of her) and almost demanded they be sent on their ‘honeymoon’.

Colin took this as the green light to hide his wife away from the ton for nearly a month. That was his plan anyway.

His plan after their month hidden away, was to travel to some of the countries he had already visited - but now with his wife.

I want to drive away with you, I want your complications too. I want your dreary Mondays, wrap your arms around me, baby boy.

After greeting the staff of their new home, Colin carried Penelope up the stairs to their chambers (which they had already done and had some… intimate… moments before they were wed).

Colin shut the door behind them, making sure to turn the lock so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

He turns in his spot to look at his wife. His wife . "I love you," Colin tells her. "I love you with everything I am, everything I have been and everything I hope to be."

"Colin..." Penelope trails off, looking up at her future husband with her wide eyes.

"I love you with my past, and I love you for my future. I love you for the children we will have and for the years we will have together. I love you for every one of my smiles, and even more, for every one of your smiles."

He reaches out to cup her face, and gently wipes away the tear. “Nothing could ever make me not love you. Even Whistledown.”