#made this so all you can get to the good stuff easier

[tomorrowxtogether]

HUENINGKAI: “I learned to love myself thanks to MOA”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.13

He cleared out his favorite hoodies and learned how to handle Cubase with ease. While many things keep on changing, some things are forever constant: the music, the group, and MOA. They are the true passions of HUENINGKAI, whose confident tone reassures us of his commitment to forever.

You cleared out some of your hoodies and stuffed toys—what you called your “horcruxes.” HUENINGKAI: Well, the hoodies were way too small for me anyway. (laughs) I wanted to try out some new styles, too, so I cleared them out. I decided I needed to ditch the hoodies first and try something prettier, including buying some knit sweaters. I also felt I could do away with my old stuffed dolls and replaced them with some new fluffier ones. It’s hard the first time you get rid of stuff, but I found it gets easier after that.

You’ve made a lot of big changes in different areas. You’ve been keeping up with your exercise, even throughout the ACT: PROMISE world tour, forming the TXT Exercise Team and regularly taking “TXD” [today’s exercise done] photos. (laughs) HUENINGKAI: I always take TXD shots. I share them in our group chat. I started working out to boost my self-esteem since they say it helps, and it definitely helps keep my mind off things when all you can think about is how tiring it is! (laughs) You can’t help but lose weight if you box. It’s the only thing that makes me sweat as much as performing in concert. There’s someone on staff who’s been doing CrossFit for a long time, so I recently started too. My goal was never to bulk up and get these huge muscles in the first place but to have a slim build with lean muscles, so CrossFit seems like a good fit for me. And MOA, you don’t have to worry—I’m not going to overdo it. (laughs)

A lot of MOA were surprised the way you threw the guitar during the performance of “Growing Pain” on the ACT: PROMISE tour. HUENINGKAI: My image sure underwent a transformation. (laughs) I wanted to show how even someone like me, who’s usually so pure and soft, has some rock star inside him. I looked up different ways of capturing the idea of smashing up the stage. I initially thought about breaking the guitar, but I figured throwing it would be better. That was all I did early on in the tour, but by the time we took it to the US, I experimented a lot, throwing the pick and flipping my bangs back later on. I was happy I got to show off a different side of myself through all that.

You’ve always had a knack for playing instruments and like playing them for fun. How do feel now that your YouTube series HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band is over? HUENINGKAI: I love playing instruments and being in a band, so I was thrilled to be able to make it. Just holding an instrument in my hands makes me feel happy, and actually interacting with and jamming with a band felt like a quintessentially youthful experience. The whole thing was fun to shoot. It never felt like work to me. I approached it like I was going to hang out with a school band.

What do you think makes being in a band so uniquely appealing? HUENINGKAI: I think it comes down to the eye contact you make while playing together. I think chemistry’s the most important part of a band, and when you’re looking each other the eye and having a good time together, you feel fully united. I feel like rock has the power to make unforgettable memories for both the band playing and their audience. I heard MOA saying they’re interested in playing in bands now or want to get back into learning an instrument. HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band was a huge motivation for me, and it makes me happy thinking it planted the seeds for some great dreams among MOA. I hope they challenge themselves to pursue whatever they want and achieve their goals, whether that’s playing in a band or something else. Just the act of trying something new takes a lot of courage, and if they build up some experience, they can truly enjoy their youth.

What form did that sense of youthfulness take on when you were making the show? HUENINGKAI: It’s the kind of youthful experience you can only experience during your university years, full of excitement, sorrow, and happiness all mixed together. The song “Kitto Zutto” is actually supposed to be about how I felt filming the Yonsei University episode of HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band. I seem to remember working on it between filming episodes two and three. I tried to make the chord progression feel both bright and also have a refreshing, youthful vibe. The very first thing I made was the piano track, but it felt a bit bland, so I turned up the BPM and then it sounded great! The funny thing was that I tried to play at that higher BPM but my fingers couldn’t keep up. (laughs) Since it would’ve been a little bland with just the piano, I felt like it’d be nice to have a catchy melody, so I had a guitar riff repeat from the intro onward. That’s the main highlight of “Kitto Zutto.” The drums gradually build up the sound and create a sense of flow.

How do you think it compares to the first song you produced, “Dear Sputnik”? HUENINGKAI: I’ve grown so much since then. When I was working on “Dear Sputnik,” I didn’t know how to use Cubase, but I used it to make the song this time. It was easy and convenient once I got the hang of it and got better as I used it more and more. Actually, for “Dear Sputnik,” I created the basic structure, but I got a lot of help from other people since it was less than two years since I debuted. I really wanted to contribute a greater share after that, and I did contribute significantly more to “Kitto Zutto.” It’s the first on a path of hard work towards being able to make a song I can truly call my own.

When you had just debuted and you were on Section TV, you said, “Ever since I was a trainee, my one goal has been to make and perform songs that can move people.” To what degree have you achieved your goal? HUENINGKAI: With “Dear Sputnik,” 30%—“Kitto Zutto,” 60%. Right from when I was first writing “Kitto Zutto,” I was thinking about how fun it would be to sing it with MOA in concert. Nothing makes me feel more fulfilled than when I see MOA enjoying a song I produced. When I performed those songs in concert, I went around in front of the audience on the moving stage and could see MOA up close and personal. They all looked so happy. I’m glad I made these songs that MOA can really get into singing along with and that we can touch their hearts with. I think singing them together gives them their final touches. I want to keep making and performing songs that everyone will love and can make them feel happy when they listen to them.

In many ways, the past year has been an excellent showcase of how you’ve grown musically. You really got people talking when you were on Lee Mujin Service and when you performed “BETELGEUSE” on the Nippon TV show THE MUSIC DAY. HUENINGKAI: I got lots of messages from people I know. (laughs) It’s the first time so many people have reached out to me like that. I was grateful but there was something indescribable about it because I feel like I’m still in the process of finding my own voice. I’ve tried singing with something more like rock vocals, and even though I don’t have difficulty hitting high notes, I’ve been thinking carefully about how to make them sound even better. I’d like to find vocals that are a little more unique to me. Obviously being a good singer is important, but I feel like sometimes that individuality is even more important.

You’ve always been a kind person, but you seem pretty strict with yourself. HUENINGKAI: Only when I feel like I’ve perfected a skill can I say that I’ve truly made it mine. I’m sort of a worrier so I practice on my own outside normal rehearsal time. Our new single “Over The Moon” is hard. (laughs) My feeling is, if you want to dance well during live shows, it starts with singing perfectly before you ever even stand up. And when I’m performing onstage, I just think, Just do it like we practiced. I might just end up making mistakes if I try to go beyond that.

I guess “Over The Moon” would’ve been hard since it’s more about making it feel romantic than unfolding a clear sense of progression. HUENINGKAI: It’s not a sad song, but it doesn’t exactly feel cheerful either, so I was aiming for a kind of longing middle ground. I start out singing softly to MOA, almost like a whisper, then add in a touch more of that longing in the chorus. I see “Over The Moon” as me removing the gravelly vocals from “0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You)” featuring Seori and keeping it light.

When watching “Over The Moon,” it reminded me of “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away).” HUENINGKAI: Exactly! It’s got the same ear-tapping move on the line “whisper me my name” as in “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away),” so I ended up watching our old performances for the first time in a while. My image back with “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away)” was meant to evoke the excitement of school days, while in “Over The Moon,” I tried to convey something a little more mature, like a university student.

You also came across as mature the way you led the older members in the 144th episode of TO DO X TXT, “Abandoned Stars,” even though you’re the youngest in the group. HUENINGKAI: That’s probably the most they’ve ever needed me. (laughs) It was scary at first, but I helped them because I felt like they wouldn’t even be able to go in if it weren’t for me. And anyway, it was less scary the second time around. I guess it’s because I’m a levelheaded person. They were clinging to me so desperately I thought my clothes would come off. (laughs) That was a first. But on the inside I was actually kind of glad and thinking about how much they need me.

You also paid YEONJUN a visit when he was shooting the music video for “GGUM.” HUENINGKAI: YEONJUN was the first one of us to do a solo project, and since I wanted to show my support and express my gratitude anyway, I brought some dakgangjeong we could eat together. (laughs) But most of all, I really wanted to learn from him. The stage presence he had as he sang from start to finish all by himself, and watching how naturally he ad-libbed towards the end, was all pretty amazing. (laughs) His solo was a good experience for us, too.

You’ve always emphasized in interviews how you want to be dependable for the rest of the group. What does trustworthiness mean to you? HUENINGKAI: Teamwork. The greater the trust between us, the stronger our group becomes. As a member of a kind of team, it’s always my hope that the other members can continuously rely on me. That’s what being a team is, after all.

And honesty is crucial for mutual trust, of course. In an interview with W Korea, when asked what it takes for a group to last a long time, you said, “Teamwork. Being open with each other about feelings.” HUENINGKAI: I actually never used to talk much about my feelings. I thought things would just work out over time, but now I talk things over with the people I’m close to, like the other members, my family, and the protocol team, no matter what it is. I really listen to their feedback, too. It just feels better that way. But it’s not at all easy to open up about what you’re feeling inside, of course. You can never just be like that from day one. So I just started slowly, and now I’m more open than I was last year.

You posted a letter on weverse for the fifth anniversary of your debut, and in it you talked about how you’ve always been careful to hide your feelings away because you didn’t like to talk about them. What made you decide to open up to MOA? HUENINGKAI: I never wanted to let MOA know when I was having a hard time. I always wanted to show them the good sides only. But the longer we were together, the closer we became, and I realized that also talking about those things was the right way to further develop the relationship. That’s why I was honest and open in what I wrote on weverse on March 4. I resolved to be more honest and open from then on.

It takes a lot of courage to be open like that. How did you find it in you to find the courage? HUENINGKAI: It’s all thanks to MOA’s love. Every time MOA opens up through their fan letters or in person, I can sense their love. The phrase, “my youth is TOMORROW X TOGETHER,” is beautiful, and hearing, “I’ll love you completely for who you are, no matter what—I love you so much,” absolutely fills me with strength. All these people around me were showing me love, but I felt like I didn’t love myself. I learned to love myself thanks to MOA.

It’s clear that you have an immense amount of love toward MOA, too, like when you said, “It may have been hard doing what it took to debut, but I could do it all again 100 times if it meant I could be with MOA.” HUENINGKAI: I wanted to show them just how much I love them. There were a lot of times I felt like giving up before I debuted, but MOA helped me forget all about it. I know what it means to find happiness as an idol thanks to them. I think MOA is what’s made TOMORROW X TOGETHER whole.

[jasminedragonart]

Oh okay so I'm actually getting some genuine interest in this post.

I actually did a course on publishing when I was at uni, the process to actually make a book is actually really easy. Doing it alone might seem daunting, especially if you're planning on making more than one copy but it's possible.

I'm going to put the process here which I'm using to make my own book. By that I mean with my atla comic, my goal is, once I reach the end of book 1 I'm going to make myself a physical copy with my own hands.

First, you need an idea. Sounds simple but it's actually the hardest part of the publishing process. My advice: get it down, make it messy, do it fast.

Second, if you're doing this on your own, you're gonna want to take a day or two and not look at it at all. You want to wipe it from your mind and not even think about it until we get to the next step of our journey.

If you aren't doing this on your own youre going to send your draft to your beta. You're going to get that second opinion and listen to every disgusting plot hole and problem until you want to cry. If you are doing this on your own you will also be doing this step but you are the beta. Your fresh eyes will tear that project apart.

Third, redraft. This is where things get good. You have a skeleton of a fic at this stage, what you're going to do now is add meat and blood and skin until you're just as in love with this draft as you were the first.

Fourth, repeat the second step.

Fifth, take a break. Take a long break and then read over your second draft again, you're going to find a lot more wrong with it now than you did before. It shouldn't be as bad as the first purge but you should be able to fine tune your draft.

You're going to do and repeat this until youre happy with your draft and your beta is too.

This is where we go to our next stage.

Sixth, the proofreader and editor. If this is you, print your work out, it's a lot easier to find mistakes when you have a physical copy. You're fine combing it now. You're finding little mistakes, little grammatical errors and words that don't sit right. You're going to send this out into the world so be happy with what you've produced, dont leave anything to chance. Even if you have to get your parents or siblings or friends to read your work just do it. A new pair of eyes spot things you don't even think about.

Seventh, if you're finally happy with your work you're going to start the publishing process. If this is an Amazon book I can't help you since I'm going to be printing and creating at home but there are a lot of sites out there and youtubers that can help you with that.

If you're doing this at home you're going to typeset your work. You're going to adjust the margins, the paragraph space, font and size until they're the typeset you're wanting. Since mine is a comic I will be making sure the margins leave a big white space near the centre so the art isn't lost in the spine. There are pages out there debating the best typeset to use depending on your book so it's entirely up to you really. For example young adult books have larger fonts than adult books.

Eight, after this you need to either, manually, or with a pdf app put your book in printing order. This is where you need to know about how books are actually made. Books are made up of signatures which are three or four pages folded together. This means the pages go 1 on the right, 2 on the opposite side to the left, 3 goes onto page 2 and 4 on the opposite side to the left. It goes on like that and it's not impossible to do it manually but it does require a bit of thinking.

Nine. Once youve put it in printing order you need to print and make those signatures.

Ten, you sew those signatures together. There's a tutorial on YouTube on how to do this and, again, there are variations and it comes down to taste, a lot of stuff after this is taste. You can add a bookmark at this point as well as binding around the top. Make sure you glue your spine.

After that you need cardboard and book cloth and a tutorial on YouTube because, again, it's personal taste but at this point it's not impossible, you've almost done it and books don't have to be expensive to make no matter what some people say. Make it how you want to make it. Research book covers and bookbinders because they will tell you how to make the most amazing book ever.

I'm sorry I don't have a more informative tutorial. I will definitely post my process when I'm making the physical book but that's going to be a while from now. Some people to look into for cool books are Nerdforge and Seallemom. These are the people I watched on YouTube to learn how to make a book. When I was in uni we used Amazon books to make our own. But I hate how those ones came out, physically, not people work since they were great, and the book itself was a collaborative effort so when I make my own I want it to be my own.

With that in mind, so many people on Tumblr know how to bind a book, they love to read and have a keener eye than some professional proofreaders. I literally don't know how a bunch of us haven't got together and made our own publishing company by now.

genuinely wondering how some people on here haven't started their own publishing company. It's not like we don't have the skills. The amount of bookbinders, proofreaders and artists on here could rule the publishing world if they had the right motivation.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[bmpmp3]

holy FUCK IA's voisona 2.0 is OUT

[selinswonderland]

Selin cracked an amused smile at the question of who might actually be happy here. Sometimes she wondered if she was one of the few who actually were looking or hoping that there was a way out of here. "Right, well she definitely doesn't seem sad about it. Have you met Alex? I don't think I've seen him drop his smile since we got here." No matter what kind of theory was posed about their situation, Selin remembered that Alex was always able to find a positive spin on it, not once did he appear scared or worried about what would happen to them. Maybe to some that sort of reaction should have been odd, but Selin thought it was understandable given his background.

When it came to shrinking down, Selin was actually quite proud of herself for managing to pull it off as easily as she did. Staying focused was the key it seemed, and hopefully keeping that focus and concentration on her size would make it last however long she needed it to. She couldn't help but look a bit sheepish as Zaid mentioned her resemblance to a fairy. It also reminded her of Darcy's comment when she first witnessed her slow return to her regular size, calling her "the cutest garden gnome". Both comments were amusing, and flattering, but she couldn't let herself be distracted by the cute compliment. "Maybe I can find a pair of wings somewhere in the endless amounts of stray luggage. But I'll look into that after I help you out of here." she commented before climbing her little way through the crack in the door to the other side of the room.

It was all rather disorienting, being this size in a room that was just a normal sized room. But now everything was gigantic in comparison to her. The walls seemed as though they were going on forever, the door and all the different furniture were like skyscrapers. There was in fact water all over the place, just peacefully pooled up across the floor, but to her it looked like the aftermath of a flooded city. Everything at this size looked so vast and never ending to her, she was relieved that she only needed to be this small to get over to this side and nothing more.

Luckily (at least for her), due to the tilt of the ship, a lot of the furniture had slid from its original placement towards the doorframe, so she didn't have to free fall down into the oceanic puddle below. "I'm okay, there's a lot of stuff that fell really close to the door here. I should be able to get back to my normal size without drowning." She replied, taking her time to delicately make her way along the towering storage racks that had slid and toppled over this way. Once she made it somewhere more sturdy, that was when she started to concentrate again, this time to return herself back to normal, or better yet, just a little bit bigger than normal. She didn't want to grow so huge like she accidentally did with Lindi in one of the cabins, then she wouldn't be any help, but a little bit of extra height could help her move the large wine fridge and industrial storage rack that had the door blocked off.

It took her a moment to do so, but it helped that she didn't have Zaid looking at her this time, and it helped that she was reminding herself why that was, that she if she did this, she'd be able to help him without him losing a hand or his whole arm. So bigger and bigger she got, until she was a little bit bigger than her average height. "Zaid? You okay? You should be out soon, I'm gonna start trying to move everything!" she called out to him as she shuffled through the water pooling around her ankles. Gently splashing through, she started with the knocked over storage rack, easier to grab and pull to the side out of the way, and then next, going for the wine fridge, quite big, and heavy seeing as it looked like there was still a good chunk of intact wine bottles inside.

Wrapping her arms around the fridge, she managed to grab onto it and pull it out of the doors way with a grunt and groan. The moment the fridge was removed, so was all the force of the door crushing Zaid's hand, setting him free.

Cooking for five younger siblings, with no parents, grandparents. Zaid pressed his lips together and said nothing beyond a grunt of acknowledgement, but he did take time to layer this fact about Selin onto the other facts he knew about her. She liked making people happy, she was an elementary school teacher, she was Turkish. She was somewhat non-practicing.

"We are just sitting ducks," he agreed, willfully gloomy. A rueful smile. "Wonder if there's anyone here who actually is happy to be here, hm? Oh right - there's that Darcy. You reckon she's thrilled? To be out of the 'simulation'?" He used a one-handed air-quote about that.

Selin seemed agreeable about Zaid's plan for when she shrunk. Now he was just a little excited to actually *see* it in person. It was one thing to explode with a nauseating power oneself - to actually watch someone's entire body getting smaller and smaller, like something out of a children's film. "Don't worry. No squeezing, no swept away by the puddle's tide. I'm ready."

And his arm was starting to feel alarmingly numb by now too. Blood circulation cutting off, and it would be painful as fuck once he was released. If he could be released.

He held out his hand when Selin instructed, watching her keenly as she concentrated hard, eyes closed tight to make herself shrink, make herself small. It looked make-believe until...it actually started to happen. "Bloody..." Zaid whispered, watching Selin, perfectly proportioned, just get...smaller. Like the 'little folk' of Britain, a brownie or a sprite.

"You're like a proper little fairy now," he huffed, lifting her in his palm, to study her like some butterfly specimen. "Just need a pair of wings on you and you'd be Tinkerbell. Erm - right -" Zaid twisted with a pained groan to poise his hand at the crack in the door, giving Selin a chance to hop through to the other side of the storage room.

"You okay? Is it wet in there too? Don't drown, alright?"

[semothekat]

head in hands heand in hands

[justabunchofdragons]

o... .. .,,, ! !!! i am very happy with where i am in this moment

[icarus-suraki]

I don't like wading into Ao3 debates, but I want to give my professional opinion on Ao3 with regard to archives vs. libraries.

I am a professional librarian (MSLS) and I have worked in both archives and public libraries and a lot of the confusion and concern I see surrounding Ao3 is a fundamental misunderstanding of How Archives Work.

An archive is a collection related to a subject. That subject is often a person but sometimes a field or concept or project. And the purpose of an archive is to keep everything. And I mean everything. I was going to say "short of biohazards" but since I know there's a sealed R. Crumb Devil Gal chocolate bar in the UNC Chapel Hill archives, we really do mean everything.

When a collection of materials--which are usually unique and original and can be photos, manuscripts, letters, recordings (audio and/or visual), notes and notebooks, objects, published books, whatever--on and/or from the subject arrive at the archive, they are examined, preserved for longevity, accessioned and cataloged (added to the archive's records), and added to the archive. You measure collections in linear feet. As in, once it's all preserved and boxed and secure, you note how many feet of shelf space it takes up. And some of y'all on Ao3 have a lot of linear feet to your name (and I'm proud of you).

This is an archive: it is designed to preserve the original materials related to a subject. That is its purpose. Archives are how we have the original scroll manuscript of On the Road, for example, or the Lomax recordings of American folksongs, or Tijuana Bibles, or James Joyce's loveletters to Nora.

Now you, a member of the public, can access some archives. Some are easier to access than others. The one I worked in was open to the public; good luck getting into the British Archives without a good reason.

So now apply this to Ao3--which is an archive both in name and in purpose. It is intended to preserve fan-created content long term. And this means everything, whether you personally like the materials or not. It is a repository for as much as possible.

And the "whether you personally like the materials or not" is important, hence why I mentioned Jim's loveletters and Tijuana Bibles in particular. (RIP Jim, you would have loved pegging.)

If it's made by fans and it exists, we should keep it to document the history and progression of fandom. That is the point. We have lost enough materials related to the subject of fans of media and we don't need to lose any more.

The fact of the matter is that Ao3 is only one facet of the OTW, which preserves other fan-related materials (convention booklets and zines, for example). Somehow Ao3, an archive on the subject of fanfiction, has been divorced from the rest of the project, mostly by way of "purity culture" and panic over "dangerous" fiction.

The fact that you can go through an archive and find interesting information is the other side of archives. No, they shouldn't be like the banker's box of old letters stuffed in my closet. Yes, they should be organized and as accessible as is appropriate for the state of the materials.

It's really, really cool to find stuff in an archive, I'm not even going to lie. I have done it before and I will do it again. And yet there are other items in an archive that I might not want or need or be interested in at all--but they're still there. That's the cataloging and accessioning: to keep up with what's there, to stay "on topic" with collecting, and to be able to find things in that archive. Bless the tag wranglers who are doing the cataloging at Ao3.

The pearl clutching seems to come from 1. the creation of "dangerous" fanworks and 2. public access to those "dangerous" fanworks. These are issues of "purity culture" and opinions on censorship and should not involve Ao3.

Ao3, under the umbrella of the OTW, is a documentation and preservation project first and foremost.

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)

[wetpapert0wel]

hey......what if. instead of tumblr making their own gaiaonline avi things......what if we just went to gaia online.......

[dollyhao]

older woman! abby x young woman! reader

summary: abby is not sure getting close to her young secretary is a good idea or not but you know for sure it is.

cw: pining, fluff, smut, love <3, all types of cute shit

word count: 2.5k

working for abby has been one of the best experiences you've ever had. you started working as a receptionist/secretary at abby's auto body shop five months ago and she is the greatest boss you've ever had.

she is so kind and patient especially when you make mistakes. she respects her employees and treats them more like colleagues than subordinates. not to mention she is beautiful, like really beautiful. for a woman in her late thirties she was very fit, it was very clear she worked out and you mostly see her bring salmon and rice into work for lunch.

she had skin that looked soft to the touch and a couple of scars running up her forearms, most from her job as a mechanic. she had luscious, thick dirty blonde hair that she keeps in a braid or sometimes a bun.

you may have developed a crush on the older woman, blushing at every word she says to you in that soft tone. or when she stands close to you; looking over your shoulder to look at the computer that's in front of you. and you've tried to make it obvious that you were interested by lingering looks, compliments about her work, and questions trying to get to know her better, but she has never made a move.

but lord did abby wish the feelings weren't mutual.

abby hired you because of your business degree and your experience but you ended up being the best part of her day. you were beautiful and funny and you made her job as the owner so much easier. she's able to focus on her passion as a mechanic and she couldn't thank you enough. but she tries to keep away because it wouldn't be right to start a relationship with you, your in your early twenties and abby's in her late thirties, you were probably looking for different things right now.

abby wants to settle down, get married and maybe start a family but you were young and probably had so much stuff you wanted to do. she didn't wanna start anything just for it to be temporary especially not with a girl as sweet as you. but now abby is sweating at the thought of having to ask you to stay afterwards to help her with some documents that she was slacking on.

your amazing because you agree immediately even though you question why she didn't bring these documents to your attention sooner. abby is embarrassed and insists on staying behind and helping you.

being in a room with abby at night is like a wet dream. you sit with her in her office at 8 at night as you look over important documents and inventory. you sit side by side when you glance over at her, you didn't even notice that she took her hair out her bun, rubbing her fingers through her scalp. you stare at the side of her face while she reads something on her computer and you can't help yourself when you reach your hand out and tuck a piece of hair that was obstructing your view of her face.

she looks over at you and sees the soft expression you have as your eyes move around her face. "you're beautiful," you mumble, trailing your thumb over her face gently. "thank you," she mumbles back. you continue to stare at each other before one of your phones ding, snatching abby's attention from your face.

"um, i can finish up here," she looks at the time and look back over at you, "there's not much left to do here." she stands up grabbing your coat for you. you stand after her, terrified that you have ruined something that you weren't even sure was there. that was until abby gave you a genuine smile and helped you put your jacket on. you try not to sigh in relief when she askes to walk you to the car.

she walks you to your car and opens the door for you and closing it when your in. you roll your window down and start the car looking over at the abby who had her hand on the roof of your car. she bends down and rests her arms on your window, "thank you for helping me tonight. drive safe, ok?"

goodness, she's using that soft tone with you again so you just nod and smile. she smiles back and walks back into the building. you drive away smiling at the memory of abby's face illuminated by the lamp in the office and her soft hair flowing down her back.

.ೃ࿐

"are you coming?" manny is leaning over the counter that your working at staring down at you expectedly. "what?" you were working which you assumed manny was supposed to be doing as well. "are you coming to the out with us tonight?" he repeats his question and you glance over at abby who is wiping oil off her hands.

"who's going?" you continue to work, feigning disinterest. "all of us, boss, owen, nora and me of course."

"um yea, ill go." you give him a quick smile before getting back to what you were doing. manny hits the counter backing away, "great!"

your not sure what you expected from tonight, you like your coworkers but this is your first time hanging out outside of work. everyone is sitting in the booth telling silly stories in the loud bar. your quietly listening nursing your drink glancing up at abby occasionally who is sitting across from you.

she has a beer in her hand giggling at her friends drunk antics adding to the conversation every once in the while. she glances at you and catches you eye, "are you ok?" she mouths to you. you nod and give a tense smile, its way too loud and hot and you want to get away. you guess abby can sense that because she motions over the bar and you nod.

"we'll be back. getting more drinks." she gestures to both of your empty cups. she stands and waits for you to do the same and when you do she places her hand on your lower back steering you towards the bar. abby orders your drinks and nods over to a small empty table in the corner of the building. you nod and grabing her wrist, feeling bold and pull her over to the table.

"this isnt really your scene, huh?" abby starts as you settle into your seats. "no not really. way too loud." she nods sipping on her drink. you both sit quietly for a second before your gaze trail to her scarred forearms. your fingers trace her scars gently, "these are strangely beautiful." you glance up at her face seeing her eyes already on your face.

abby's fingers twitch as your soft hand wrap around her arm pulling it closer to yourself. your fingers trail softly up her arm until you get to her fingers you play with them for a second before intertwining your fingers together. you both tighten your grips on each others hand then you bring her hand to your face. you rub your cheek against her knuckles looking her in the eye.

abby's mind won't stop racing, she should pull away; she shouldn't be letting you do this but the look on your face and the way your looking at her she can't bring herself to do it. but then you pull her back to reality when you place soft, lingering kiss on her knuckles.

"shit," she mutters before pulling her hand out of your grip. normally you would've dropped it, but you've been drinking and you know that abby wants you and you want her. you get out of your seat taking the seat next to her. you turn your body towards her, "why won't you kiss me?" you ask staring at her lips.

abby's lips part as she watches the pout that forms on your lips. "i..i want to," she whispers leaning closer so you can hear her, "but i can't... i shouldn't."

"why not?" you whisper back. "i want you to."

"i want to. but im afraid ill want more than just a kiss if i do."

"then you can have more than just a kiss," you scoot closer to her leaning closer to her face. "i want more with you and im not talking about just sex, i want you." you look into her eyes hoping that she can see how sincere you are. she shakes her head, "your young, you don't need to be tied down by someone my age."

"that's not your choice to make alone. im telling you i want to be with you, tie me down. i want to see you look at me like this everyday and not just a work, i wanna hear that beautiful voice in the morning and run my fingers through your hair." you grab abby's face with both hands making her look at you.

she stares at you with a look of desperation and adoration. she grabs your hand that pressed against her face kissing the inside of your palm and you pull her into a kiss.

abby kisses you with so much passion like shes been dreaming of this moment. she places her hands on your waist, just wanting to touch you, "can i take you to my place?" she whispers against your lips. you nod enthusiastically already standing with your jacket, taking abby's hand and leading her to the door.

arriving at abby's house was a surreal experience. walking through her kitchen and living room felt like you were getting a peak into her world. her home is kind of bare of any decoration but its just so her. book shelves in the living room and books on the coffee table, a cd collection someone would probably kill for, dishes in the sink; the kind of neglect someone who lives alone commits.

but it smells like her, like a fall candle and a long day of work. "im sorry for the mess." she says moving things around with an embarrassed chuckle. "its alright." you smile at her placing your hand on her shoulder. "can i kiss you now?" you ask abby when she sits down on her couch. she nods and you kiss her for the second time that night.

you straddle her thigh, placing your hand on the side of her neck with your other on her arm squeezing the muscle that's there. abby's hand creeps over your back and under your shirt. you arch your back into her when her big cold hands slide up your spine. you whimper in her mouth, when her other hand grabs your waist.

you pull away first, panting hard, looking at abby with swollen lips when you hurriedly take your shirt off before diving back into your passionate kiss. she pulls back from the kiss wanting to be able to take you in for a second. her eyes look over your figure with so much desire and longing. "shit." she mumbles, her hands settle on your naked waist before they run over your stomach and up to your bra covered breast.

your hands under her shirt. "off, please." you whisper lifting the shirt over her head and she lets you pull it off and starts unbuttoning your pants. "take these off baby. i wanna taste you." she says looking you in your eyes, pulling your pants down as you stand over her. your hands clutch her shoulders as she stands up with you in her arms walking to her bedroom.

you place feverish kisses on her neck as she makes her way. you are dropped on your back on the the soft surface of her bed. she flips you on your stomach pulls you to the end of the bed before propping your hips up so your ass is in the air. she kisses down your lower back to your thighs. "this ok?" she askes you. you look back at her with your face pressed into the bed and nod with a hum, as she pulls your under wear off and uses her thumbs to spread you open.

you moan as abby licks your clit before sticking her tongue in you. you try to fuck yourself on her tongue before she pulls away, placing a kiss on your clit before rolling it around with her tongue, she pushes two fingers into you. you tremble and reach behind you to grab her hand that's gripping your ass. "baby, omg dont stop!" abby's not even sure if you meant to call her that but it sounds so good coming from you.

"say it again, princess," she stands up pressing her front against her back. she doesn't stop fucking you with her fingers and she rubs her thumb over your clit, "you like it?" you hump at her hand, "yes yes, i love it, baby." you lift your head peering at her face with your mouth hanging open, lewd sounds coming out.

abby presses kisses to the back of your neck as you cum on her fingers. she watches as your body shutters when you peer into each others eyes. she feels a burst of pride in being able to get you to come undone like that. hearing the way you talked to her was enough for her as she settles on her back trying to pull you to snuggle with her.

"what are you doing?" you ask her sitting on your knees. "oh im sorry. i shouldn't have assumed you would want to stay-" you cut abby off, "no no, its your turn." you say resting your hands on her pants buckle. "you don't have to."

"why wouldn't i?" you look at her confused. abby wasn't expecting to get anything back from you, most of the time women just took from abby, never wanting to give back but she should've known that wasn't you. your everything she has ever wanted. so she nods as she leans against her pillow and you pull her pants down.

you place your hands on her thighs obviously enjoying the thick, hard muscles under your hands. you kiss the inside of her thighs, biting them slightly; abby groans at the sight. you wrap your arms around her thighs before looking up at her and resting your head against her thigh. "you're beautiful."

abby cant help but blush at the compliment when you begin to slide her underwear off. you kiss around where she wants you before you suck on her clit, rolling it around with your tongue. abby whines and places her hand against the back of your head. "your such a good girl," she gasp out as her hips buck up into your face, "your always such a good girl."

your tongue slips into her hole and your nose bumps her clit just right so she rides and humps your face trying desperately to get off. she repeats your name over and over peering down at those beautiful round eyes. her hips start to jerk and you run your hands over her thighs as she rides out her high on your tongue.

"your so perfect." she whispers in astonishment. "im gonna tie you down, mama."

[joeloverture]

hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax. 

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing. 

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. 

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from  — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky. 

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining. 

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down. 

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…” 

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee. 

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head. 

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.” 

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel. 

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

 “Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips. 

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become. 

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel. 

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily. 

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him. 

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is. 

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!” 

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[captainfantasticalright]

Since it is world book day, I thought I would share once again one of my most heavily annotated, scrapbooked, lived in books- Good Omens.

I usually scrapbook inside my books, but this one is the only one that has things in almost every single page. These are just the pages with double spreads.

To the book that saved me and to Terry Pratchett and @neil-gaiman , thank you 🥂.

I did add some image descriptions. So you get some clues about all the things I put in each spread.

(Because someone asked in the tags: “how can you read it? Reread it??”

Well simple answer: this edition,like many others, happen to have black pages with just the days of the week printed on them, which I left visible, and plenty of empty spaces where I glue/draw everything else, so nothing is covered at all. Plus having so much stuff inside has actually made it easier to open. )

[causenessus]

MY LIVE REACTION WHEN EGGY POSTS (i just scoured through my entire likes library trying to find this image)

35MM CHAPTER THREE: dostokovestky

track number three: andromeda by weyes blood

masterlist

-> fun facts!

akaashi downloaded a journaling app on his phone just to keep track of his daily emotions/tasks

yn worked as a counselor/teacher at a filmmaking class for kids. they made a crime drama. it was twenty minutes long and it was a disaster/masterpiece

akaashi's project is focusing on the way the nuances of narration can be lost in adapting novels into film with a focus on this issue in various adaptations in lolita

he's writing a (very long essay) and filming a short scene to draw comparisons to the actual films and show how biases and interpretations by directors can alter the plot of a story and change the fundamentals of a character

i know its not revolutionary but cut me some slack lmao

the classes yn's taking: women in film, the working cinematographer, film theory and criticism, intro to world literatures through short stories and film, & studies in narratives

she got all of her core curriculum classes out of the way her first year. her roommates did not

an: im kind of surprised at the response to this! tysm for reading everyone <3 i really appreciate it and i hope it will continue to be enjoyable ! i apologize that this chapter had a lot of assignment talk but we’re just at the beginning here lol

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @hikikaimar @needtoloveoutloud @rinheartshyunlix @causenessus @bookworm-center @kettlepop @makkiroll @atsumou @eyes-ofhell @kawaii-angelanne @ryeyeyer @k8nicole @mydearchoso @phoenix-eclipses @lixie-phoria @suitstars @reneny @scxrcherr @ueknightbl @iluvaquaphor @sleezzsister @barricadesenthusiast @staygoldsquatchling02 @nemesii @sereniteav @crimsoncamra @gsyche @evening-latte @rrosiitas @kunimix @kitnootkat @aquariarose @iluv-ace (taglist is closed, apologizes if you filled out the form and were not able to be added, the taglist filled up way quicker than i anticipated)

[rafesangelita]

Rafe visiting sweetheart pogue reader after knowing her better at her little bake shop she works at and they get to talking and she confesses its her absolute dream to open and run her own bake shop and he buys her a little cute shack to start her business off !!! 💕💕

warnings: super sweet fluff, sexual tension that rafe has to force himself not to act on

a/n: this came out longer than i wanted it to, but i loveeee writing for pogue!sweetheart!reader so much, pls send reqs for her if you’d like <3

it was a rather slow day at the icecream shop, so when you heard that little ding! indicating that someone had walked in, you were more than happy to see none other than rafe. “hey!” you chirped, adjusting the pink apron that currently hugged your waist.

“are you the only one working?” he walked up to the counter, your bright smile making his heart beat wildly in his chest. “yeah..” you trailed off, looking over to your manager’s office, “maybe i could ask for a quick break so we could talk?” rafe nodded. “i’d like that.”

he waited until you disappeared before he flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turned the small lock on the door, so you two could converse without any interruptions. “okay!” you walked back up front. “favorite flavor?” rafe’s mind went blank as you reached for something, your skirt riding up your thighs as you did so.

“uhm- uh, rocky road is good.” you finally grasped the cups you were looking for, beaming at rafe’s response. “i love that one, too! but strawberry cheesecake has been my go to for a while now.” rafe didn’t want to make it obvious that he was staring hard, but he found that it was rather difficult when you were around him.

he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone so sweet and bubbly and charming as you are, could also be so unintentionally sexy at the same time. “rafe?” you snapped him out of his trance, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “here we are.” you walked around the counter, placing the cups of icecream down on a nearby table.

you reached behind you as rafe took a seat, your nails not allowing you to untie the knot you made in the strings of your apron. “what’s wrong?” he looked up at you in confusion. “my apron is a little stuck..” you turned, backing up until you stood been his legs. “can you untie this for me please? i just got my nails done and i did it a bit too tight.”

rafe was going insane. here you were in a mini skirt, potentially giving him a full view of everything that was underneath as you coyly waited for him to ‘help you out’. “sure, yeah-” he cleared his throat, hands coming up to fiddle with the strings that stopped just above the curves of your ass.

once he had it off, you sighed, taking the seat across from him. “where are you coming from?” rafe was still flustered when you took your spoon in your mouth, his eyes following the way your lips wrapped around the damned thing. “work, actually.” he blinked away, zeroing in all his focus elsewhere.

“really? what do you do?” now it was your turn to watch him, the veins on his arms making you lick your lips. “construction. it’s my dad’s business.” you nodded, trying to push the image of rafe all hot and sweaty from working outside, out of your head. “so you’re a handy man?” you teased, unintentionally tapping your foot against his leg.

“i know my way around.” you caught rafe looking at your lips, a shy smile taking over your feautures. “i wish i had those skills, it’d make things so much easier for me.” you raised your eyebrows. “how so?” he leaned forward. “well.. it might sound dumb, but it’s my dream to open my own little bakery. the problem is; i don’t know where to start, i don’t know who i have to get in contact with for licensing and permit stuff, and i definitely don’t know how to install any kind of kitchen appliances.”

rafe thought for a moment.

“do you have a certain location in mind?” he asked. you hummed, shaking your head. “no, i don’t care where it is. i’d just like a bigger space.” rafe nodded. “that doesn’t sound dumb by the way,” you looked up, “i think it’s neat that you want to open up your own business. the entire island will be over the moon once they find out they can get those chocolate chip cookies whenever they want.”

you had never shared that information with anyone, but by the way rafe responded, you were glad it was him that you spilled it to. rafe saw the small flash of sadness pass through your eyes before you shook it off. “one day..” just as you were about to check the time, your manager walk out of her office. “closing shop early today, do you mind helping me out real quick?” without hesitation, you got up from your seat.

“wait for me?” you gave rafe your icecream and apron to go outside with.

“of course.”

-

over the next two weeks, you found yourself by rafe’s side, whether he was following you around while you made sales, or helping you bake, you two seemed to be attached at the hip. “are you working tomorrow?” rafe currently sat on the floor of your camper, leaning against the lace-trimmed cushions of your pull out couch. “nope!” you offered him a spoon of buttercream to taste test, watching as he took his digit in his mouth.

“goddamn, that’s amazing,” rafe gave you a thumbs up, “but anyways— i was asking because i have a surprise for you.” placing the bowl of frosting on the counter, you turned. “oh?” you sat down, his head resting against the side of your knee. “i think you’ll really like it.” rafe kept his eyes down in his lap. “can i guess what it is?” he shook his head, “i won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong.”

sighing in defeat, you and rafe spent the rest of the night decorating cookies and taking turns shuffling songs until he was ready to head back home. “i’ll be here to pick you up in the morning, ‘that sound okay?” he was leaning against your doorframe, your fingertips itching to reach out for him. “mhmm, thank you for all your help today..” you stepped closer, swallowing thickly as he rested a hand in the curve of your neck.

even though rafe wanted to kiss you and feel your lips on his, he settled for a peck on your temple, which you were more than happy to receive. “goodnight, y/n.” he waved before getting in his truck and driving away. locking the door shut, you couldn’t help the pout that graced your lips at your now empty, quiet, camper.

eager to know what rafe wanted to surprise you with, you were quick to get ready for bed, forcing yourself to go to sleep before having to wake up and get ready.

“promise you’re not peeking?” you giggled, your hands resting on top of rafe’s as he guided you to some unknown location. “i promise!” finally, rafe came to a stop, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of his body pressing against your backside.

“okay, go ahead and open.” you were buzzing with excitement, your mouth falling agape once your vision cleared. there, in front of you sat a perfect little shack, the word ‘sold’ on a red banner adorning the front. you blinked, slightly confused. “this is so cute! did you buy it or something?” rafe nodded, his mouth falling to your ear.

“it’s yours.”

you took a minute to process his words, letting go of a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “rafe..” he placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. “a couple weeks ago you said it was your dream to have your own bakery but you didn’t know where to start, this is your starting point.” your eyes were watering now as you looked up at the man in front of you.

“i don’t think i can accept this.” you laughed, butterflies swarming your tummy when rafe wiped your tears. “you can, and you will.” you couldn’t hold back anymore, throwing your arms around him. rafe wasn’t used to this feeling in his chest, but he knew it felt right.

“it still needs to be renovated, but i talked to my dad and he agreed cameron development will cover everything.” you pulled away, dumbfounded. “i- why?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “why not? you deserve it.” sniffling, you looked back at the shack, already envisioning the place up and running. “i can’t thank you enough, rafe.” you couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that rafe, let alone anyone, would do something like this for you.

“we’ll get to that later,” he winked, making you laugh, “should we go pick out a paint color?”