#people want decent apologies but then they get one and it's not good enough for them

[fruitsboots]

I'm a nail technician and here's a big list of headcanons about the kinds of clients the TOS Enterprise crew would be!

Kirk:

-shows up on time for appointment but sometimes has to cancel super last minute.

-doesn't bite his nails but picks at them and his cuticles. not enough to bleed or anything but enough that most of his appointment is cuticle work.

- "Cut them short" my guy there's no free edge.

- holds still, uses arm rest appropriately, doesn't stiffen his hands. no polish, just buffed smooth. jokes every time that next time maybe he'll go with a hot pink.

-asks a lot of questions and chats at the beginning of the appointment but ends up getting a little bored by the end.

-always tips very well but doesn't rebook, he'll call you.

Spock:

-doesn't make appointments, just shows up sometimes on slow days and asks to use certain supplies.

-does his own nails and keeps them very nice and neat. nail beds to die for. Nails grow very fast.

-On occasion has been talked into a dark polish and will let someone else do that for him (he's not very good at the application).

-sits a little too stiffly like he's concentrating. speaks when spoken to. doesn't linger long, the smell gives him a headache.

-doesn't tip but you’re not sure if he knows he’s supposed to.

McCoy:

-calls and asks if there’s time for a walk in then shows up later than he tells you but usually has a good excuse.

-Hands are dry as hell from washing them a lot. Worst, driest cuticles. Always gets a split on the edge of his pointer finger.

-Sits too far away from the table, at an angle, hunched, wrists on the armrest and elbows locked. Has to be asked to scoot arms forward a million times.

-Is annoying to work on technically, but fun to chat with. Always turns into a complaint session but in the best way. Wants to know the drama in your life and gives opinions.

- Closes eyes and tries not to doze off during the hand massage. Wipes off all the lotion that he desperately needs.

-Tips alright and always says he’ll come back soon but you know it’ll be another 4 months.

Uhura:

-has a standing appointment every 3 weeks and is never late, sometimes she’ll bring you a drink and apologizes when she doesn’t.

-Did her own nails for a long time and keeps them well manicured between appointments.

-Will (properly!) remove her own gel polish before appointments to save you the trouble.

- Tends to go for lighter, pearlescent shades. Always asks what you have that’s new but then picks one of her go-tos.

- Loves to look at nail art but doesn’t usually get it.

-Super bubbly during appointments, very patient, sits perfectly. Always enthusiastic about the result and gives lots of praise.

-Tips well and takes business cards to give to people.

Chapel:

-Not really supposed to get her nails done but does anyways. Doesn’t have super regular appointments but usually books with Uhura when she does.

-Usually shows up with chipped polish from last time that desperately needed removed 3 weeks ago.

-Gets light/sheer colors.

-Sometimes will book for a gel manicure and then tell you she doesn’t actually want polish this time even tho she needs it. Nice nails beds but they are thin and peel a bit without anything on them.

-Apologizes for no reason multiple times. Thanks you as if it were an inconvenience to do her nails? 

-After a few appointments, she loosens up a bit. Tips decent.

Sulu:

-has gotten his nails done like five times just for fun.

-Keeps them short, not much cuticle work. Why are you here??

- Will get a couple “masculine” designs and isn’t picky about them. “You just do whatever you think will look best :) “

-genuinely fun to have as a client but needs some direction on how to sit etc. can talk about anything.

-Didn’t tip the first time bc he didn’t know and felt bad so he always does, but it’s not much.

Scotty:

-how can one man have so much grease under his nails?

-Has a standing appointment once a month for just a nail trim but should be more like every two weeks.

-Asks questions about nail equipment (UV lamp, e-file, etc).

-Talks a bit during the appointment and then stands around after chatting. Always tips like 2$ but sometimes brings baked goods, etc.

Chekov:

-wanders in with a bruised nail and is like “what can you do for this” nothing dude.

-Leaves and comes back later to buy a gift certificate to give to a girl.

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

videos out about Watcher being evil and greedy even like a month to three weeks ago and being happy at their subscribers going down

I swear people don't go this hard on white YouTubers saying racist shit and you're dragging these YouTubers who are 2 POC out of 3 long after making a bad business decision and then apologising and making amends

whilst at the same time supporting white creators doing the exact same thing???

[pikonv5]

my job wants me gone so bad , like 1 month in and they have already brought out their no effort in communication and gaslighting full force, and telling me much of the work I am doing is wrong and accusing me of not doing the basic things like stocking, that I try so hard and am sure to keep up with being the only person working at a time? like if they are going to do this at least do it while i am on the clock..

[theroyalyandere]

smutty yandere dilf! emperor? 😍😍 reader is like a servant or something jsjsjsjs

yandere!dilf!emperor x female!servant!reader smutty 18+

cw: dark content, child neglect, alcohol abuse, breeding, inappropriate touching, jealousy, torture, dub-con, mentions of pregnancy and lactation

a/n: to people who see this post, don't like? then don't read

imagine attending as a servant to the emperor who was taken by grief with the lost of his wife

you notice how he drowns himself in alcohol leaving his work to the butlers and other lords

even neglecting his only child, who you can see was sadden by the situation of losing their mother then their father to drinking

the emperor was too drunk to pay attention to you, although you are mostly the one who takes care of him because you tolerate anything that comes into your way

whether he throws a fit or vomit all over, you chose to endure it because of necessity

whenever you have time for yourself, you often find the young child of the emperor all alone, playing by the gardens or at their mother's empty room

the servants and guards attending to the child or passing by would look at the child with pity in their eyes thinking they are going to be doomed for life

having enough of seeing the sad prince/princess, you took it upon yourself to take care of them

you approached the child who was wary but eventually warmed up to you

days went by and the young prince/princess would often follow you like a duckling to it's mother

you adore the little kid and everyone can see it, the smile coming from the prince/princess was enough to make anyone's day bright

the news of his own child being fond of another person reached the ears of the emperor

he was in the middle of throwing a fit when you did not attend to him

the poor guard assigned to him had to inform him how you are currently attending to the his child which explains why you are late

he got a little sober and asked to show where you are

he soon dressed a little more decently albeit still smelling like alcohol and his appearance messy, he still went to find you

the guard lead the way until the emperor comes into a view where you are playing with the prince/princess along with a couple of servants

he watches at how loud his child's laughter are and the glow of your face

he feels his heart beat as if he has fallen in love again

you were nudge and turn to look at the emperor gracing you with his presence

you immediately stop tickling the young child and bow to him

words of apology came out of your lips profusely, stumbling over your words as you look down fearing for the worst

he only asked you to stand up and inspects you

your doe eyed stare makes his insides turn into mush

the young prince/princess turning to you pulling your hand to play again

the emperor looks down at his child who hid behind you from being unfamiliar with their very own father

he kneels down at the level of his child, it pains him how terrible he must've been for neglecting the sweet child his dead wife left behind

he apologizes for his behavior and promises to be on his best

the emperor saw how the little boy/girl would look up to you asking for approval to which you gave them a nod

the kid reluctantly agrees

he then turns to you apologizing and thanking you for taking care of the little one

since that day, it changed the way he looks at you

there's constantly a guard by your side especially when you are with the young child

the emperor keeps an eye on you at times

monitoring your routine

sending gifts and goods to your way

his obsession worsens day by day

he would slowly began to show interest with you

the emperor would drop his bad habits hoping you would see him in a different light

he does want to change but he can't the itching of his mind and hands to be on you

he quits alcohol and now you are his new addiction

he spends more time joining you and his only child

to sneakily get closer to you, learning about your interests and background

it makes him fall deeper in-love with you

his advances would become obvious to everyone, everyone except you

too focused on your duties to even noticed the emperor following you like a puppy

he grew even more jealous and would often take people secretly to torture

the next time you encounter those people, they would only scurry away than interact with you which places you in an odd position

he tunes it up even more through 'accidental' touches

he figures that he loves it when he's close to you, inhaling your scent almost delicious enough to taste you

he's hoping to get more so he permanently assigned you to him when you are not spending time with his child

his company intimidates you as you always feel his heated gaze

eyes scanning down from your head to toe, licking his lips while doing so

the emperor would often cage you in his arms or simply grabbing you by the waist

you get surprised everytime he does

when he couldn't handle it anymore he pins you in place and asks if you can't see how much he's pining for you

you shake your head no and he grins

"I will show you how much I want you to be mine."

he starts kissing you, making you whimper in the process

he makes you wrap your arms around him

kissing you so roughly almost taking your breath away

he rips your dress off making you yelp but he does not break the kiss

the emperor's hands would reach over to rub his palms over your skin

his touch leaves a trail of goosebumps and you feel heated

he breaks of the kiss and his lips travel south to suckle on your nipples

he plays with your breasts, teasing them and pinching them

he chuckles as he hears your whines

"patience, wouldn't be lovely if your lovely breasts swell with milk after I filled you with child?"

his words surprises you, making you worry but your mind is overtaken by lust

"yes please my emperor."

you say sultrily successfully seducing him with a sentence alone

he gets you and him naked

he feels how wet you are for him but decides that it isn't enough for him to let you accomodate to his size

so he scissors your walls with his fingers, rubbing and thrusting until his palms feel your clit

you whine and thrash around as you feel pleasure all over

back arching as he sings praises for how you're doing so well for him

you take the pleasure he gives you and soon comes undone with his hands

he pulls his hands out of your sore pussy, then brings his slick coated fingers to your lips

"open your mouth and suck it."

you comply and suck and lick slick of your release on his fingers

you taste your arousal making you clench your thighs which does not go unnoticed by him

he positions his body between your legs, grabbing you to feel you even closer

he looks down at you with lust

thrusting into you without warning

he groans at the tightness surrounding him almost rendering him motionless with how you squeeze his cock

he starts to thrust slow then suddenly went fast

you moan loudly as he fucks you hard

eyes rolling back to the back of your head

your brain shutting off from the stimulation you are receiving

he rams his cock into you with no mercy, overstimulating your clit in the process

he groans out that he is going to cum he rubs your clit with his thumb

fucking you even harder as you squeal

he thrusts so fast until he cums with a loud groan by your ear

you have your second orgasm with him filling your womb with his seed

he pulls out to see how his cum drips, he pushes it back with a thumb letting you moan a little softly

He cuddles you and you snuggle right back

You immediately fall asleep with exhaustion

he whispers in your ear that you are going to be his and his only

the emperor is determined to make you take the seat of the queen to raise his children and be his wife

he wants you to swell up with his kids marking you as his

for now he let's you rest and those plans with be continued for another day

[o-sachi]

Dress to Impress Headcanons ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars.

ଳ what's it like to play the roblox game dress to impress with the blue lock boys?

ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, michael kaiser, alexis ness, shidou ryusei, nagi seishirou, reo mikage, Chigiri Hyoma

ଳ tags; crack, some profanity lol, gn reader, no y/n, can be established rs or not

[🐟]: Let me know if you want more characters to this hehe ~

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi

"How do you change the skin? Where's the hair? Why do the others have faces?"

He's so lost... poor baby. Expect a lot of questions (some of which get repeated) from him about how the game works. He's going to be overwhelmed with the buttons and stuff around his character.

You think 5 minutes is more than enough to put together an outfit, but somehow Isagi comes out of the runway without hair or with a bunch of clothes layered on top of each other.

He also asks how you do the poses on the runway.

"Hey, what's pose 28?"

HE RATES SUPER HIGH, so you're over there pouting 'cuz he's helping these 10 year old children win.

"This one's really nice. She's got a big bow on her head." / "But the theme is sad day, Yoichi..." / "And? Won't a big bow make it a happy one?"

Gets a bit sad 'cuz he gets rated low even if he rated all the others with 4 or 5 stars. Awww...

ᯓ Bachira Meguru

"I CAN MAKE MY SKIN GREEN? HOLY SHI-"

Expect that he will always use the most blinding colors known to man. He's gonna walk out on that runway looking like a traffic light.

He's so noisy when he plays. It's like he's commentating everything that's happening to him as if he has a whole stream going on. But in reality, it's just the two of you.

Spams pose 28 because all of the other cool ones aren't free.

Says "slay" every time he walks out because you said it once to him.

"HELL YEAH THAT'S A SLAAAY."

But if he's on a losing streak, he'll suddenly go quiet and focus more lol.

"Why are you quiet all of a sudden?" / "Shhh, don't interrupt my creative juices."

ᯓ Michael Kaiser

"What? Are you playing this game with your eyes closed or something?"

He said that. On voice chat. To a little girl. Who cried.

You had to reprimand him and tell him to apologize to the girl. But with his pride, he only allowed himself to rate her 5 stars the next round as his way of saying sorry.

"There. 5 stars... for the most clown outfit I've ever seen." / "Mihya!"

So mean to everyone else, but will always compliment your outfit even the ones you barely put effort in. You're starting to wonder whether or not it was condescending or heartfelt...

"That outfit looks great. We should duo in the next round." / "No, everyone in the server's mad at you and it'll affect my rating too."

He never makes it to the top 3 despite the good outfits he puts together because he talks shit on everyone in the server.

ᯓ Alexis Ness

"I got all the new codes; let me type them for you."

HE'S SUPER GOOD AT IT? It's to the point that you're jealous because his rank's way higher than yours.

"Just type M3RM4ID in that box." / "It's not working." / "Did you type the E as a 3 and the A as a 4?" / "What?" / "Never mind, gimme your Ipad."

He definitely knows all the codes that unlocks the hidden special items of the game. Plus, he's super into the lore as well. The nail technician? You bet he's going to talk about her extensive lore.

Super efficient when putting together an outfit. He's got a whole routine down to a T.

He actually rates outfits objectively—not too low and never too high.

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei

"HAHAHA WHAT'S UP WITH THAT WHACK ASS OUTFIT? #############"

He has also made a kid cry before. But unlike Kaiser, he doesn't listen to you and doubles down on it. Just an absolute menace all around.

He's definitely muted by the other people in the server because regardless of what he says, no one is responding to him. So there's only you left to talk to him.

Doesn't even try to put together a decent outfit. You're not even sure if he reads the theme at all because he walks out on the runway looking like the personification of a fever dream.

"Haha look. This pose makes it look like I'm thrusting in the air." / "Ryu! Oh my gosh..."

Definitely has been banned from Roblox before and he's using a new account to play with you.

Everything he types just shows up as hashtags at this point...

ᯓ Nagi Seishirou

"This theme is such a hassle... when is it going to be the pajama party theme?"

He already plays Roblox to begin with, but he needed extra convincing from you to play Dress to Impress because he didn't see the thrill in it.

He was only convinced when he saw you rage quitting after losing with such a fabulous outfit. He realized the competitive aspect of it and decided to play with you.

Nagi doesn't realize it but his rotation consists of the same tops and bottoms, so his outfits always come out looking the same. This leads him to losing all the time.

He definitely complains when the runway has too many players. Like... when is it going to end?

"Sei! Did you just tell the kids in the server to leave? What the hell?" / "Yah. They were making the line too long and I don't wanna wait."

Also complains when he doesn't show up in the top 3 even though he didn't really put any effort into his outfit.

ᯓ Reo Mikage

"Hey, babe, look. I bought the VIP. Want me to buy it for you too?"

HE'S SO PAY TO WIN. He's a VIP player, has all the pose packs, and literally everything you can buy in the game. He's not shy about flaunting it to the other players in the lobby.

He'll spend the first minute in the VIP area then walk all smug in the cOmMoNeR's area wearing the biggest fuck-you dress ever.

If the theme is anything normal, he'll still manage to make the outfit look high-end.

Trust that he'll spam all the expensive poses once he's on the runway. The little rascal would be smirking to himself as he presses the different poses.

Reo grumbles to himself when he loses. He can't help but be annoyed when he gets only a few stars while literally wearing a dress that costs thousands of robux.

"I was literally wearing the biggest ball gown and I still lost? What the fuck."

ᯓ Chigiri Hyoma

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I gave you 5 stars. Yeah, for sure... for sure."

SUPER COMPETITIVE! Not even you are safe from aggressive dressing and impressing.

You two will be in duos, but he'll always one up you.

"Hmm... interesting choice of colors." / "Is it that bad?" / "Bad? What do you mean? It's great. I promise."

He won't be talking shit on anyone, but you can tell what's running through his head with that smug look on his face.

"What's up with that look? / "Hm? Oh... haha. I'm just enjoying the game you know? / "..."

Will refuse to choose any other hair that doesn't resemble his own. It doesn't matter if the theme requires a different color. He will be using his red/pink hair and no one will stop him.

tag list; @meowkages , @shidousprincess

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[luna-eclipse2000]

You wearing someone else’s cologne (but it’s actually just one they don’t wear)

Ft: Eren, Armin, Jean, Levi, and Hanji

Some suggestive themes so MDNI

Eren

- You come out of your shared bedroom and walk past Eren

- He instantly smells the cologne and sees red

- He prefers musky smells, so why on earth do you smell like that?

- He grabs your wrist. Not too hard, but hard enough for you to turn around and ask him what’s wrong

- “Whose cologne is that?”

- You are instantly confused

- “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N). Whose cologne is that?”

- “Eren. I bought this for you for your birthday.”

- He instantly feels embarrassed

- “Oh… Sorry…”

- “But I do like how jealous you got over it.” You say, wrapping your arms around his waist

- “What can I say, sweetie?” Eren says. “I don’t like the thought of anyone else getting to touch you.”

- “You’re the only one who would do it right anyway.” You say

- He instantly throws you over his shoulder to show you just how right you are

Armin

- Armin always waits for you to get up before he leaves for work

- He’s never been late and he loves seeing your face in the morning

- But today he had to go in super early thanks to a batch of new people who need to be trained

- He was absolutely heart broken having to leave without getting his goodbye kiss

- But then he had an idea so he eagerly texts you

- “Hey, how about we meet up for lunch at your favourite restaurant? It can be my apology for not being able to see you this morning.”

- He anxiously waits for you at the restaurant, the food already ordered since the wait staff already know your orders by heart

- When you enter the restaurant, his eyes light up, as do yours

- “(Y/N)!” He says happily as he gets up from his seat to greet you

- “Armin! How’s your day going?”

- “It’s going good, how about yours?” He asks

- “It just got better.” You answer and then give him a kiss

- When he pulls away to give you a hug, he smells it

- The faintest smell of cypress, vetiver and black teakwood

- He feels his heart drop a bit

- You never wear this kind of smell so it’s definitely not yours

- Then whose is it?

- He pulls away and hides his worry extremely well

- You never know when he’s upset until he physically can’t hold his emotions in anymore

- You’ve always told him to tell you how he feels but he hates making you worry over him

- This is slightly different, though

- If he expresses his worry, he’ll be practically accusing you of cheating on him and saying that he doesn’t trust you

- You can tell that sometimes wrong though because he’s not really engaging in the conversation. Just nodding his head and giving short responses

- But at this point you know he’s not going to tell you the truth until he can’t handle it anymore

- He gets home before you and starts pacing through the whole house, not able to sit still

- He never got the same kind of attention from people that Eren or Mikasa did so he’s still pretty insecure

- No matter how many times you tell him how much you love him, how pretty he is, how happy he makes you, there’s still a voice in the back of his mind telling him that you’re lying

- So when he hears the door open, he finally freezes

- He wants to run to you and give you all his love

- But he also wants to confront you about the cologne

- “Armin, there you are.” Your voice says from behind him. “I’ve been calling your name for a few minutes.”

- “Are you… seeing someone else?” He finally asks

- “What? Armin, what gave you that idea?”

- He turns around to face you and you finally see the anxiety in his eyes

- “I could smell that cologne on you.” He tells you, playing with his fingers nervously. “I’ve never smelt it before. I know I’m not very tall, or confident, or handsome, or even funny. So I get it if you want to see other people.”

- You smile sadly. All that lack of attention really messed up his confidence

- You’ve seen photos of him and his friends from high school, which he was absolutely humiliated about

- He had glasses, a decent amount of acne, and would wear a lot of anime shirts

- To say he was a nerd would be an understatement, but you thought he was cute

- So you walk up to him and gently cup his cheeks

- “Armin, my darling. The cologne is yours.”

- He’s absolutely stunned. He would’ve remembered if he had something that like that

- “Mikasa got it for you for your birthday. You didn’t want to hurt her feelings so you just put it in the drawer and forgot about it. I’d never cheat on you. I love you too much to do that to you.”

- He looks down feeling embarrassed that he ever thought you’d do something so cruel

- “I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “I never should’ve-“

- “Hey, no.” You say softly. “You never wore this before so it makes sense that you didn’t think it was yours. Now how about we go downstairs, put on a movie, and cuddle for a while. Does that sound good?”

- He nods with a small smile on his face. “I love you.”

- “I love you more than you know.”

Jean

- He comes home from work before you and decides to make your favourite food for dinner

- But first, he needs to take a shower

- He heads upstairs to your shared bedroom and smells something… different

- It smells like smoke, but with a hint of sage and sandalwood

- He wonders if you got him a new soap

- But if so, why can he smell it when he’s not in the shower?

- He shakes his head, wondering if he’s going crazy and heads into the washroom to take his shower

- It isn’t until he gets out and heads to the dresser to get a new set of night clothes that he finds the culprit behind the smell

- A bottle of cologne that seems to have a few squirts taken out of it

- He picks it up and looks at the brand

- It’s expensive and definitely not his

- His mind starts racing

- There’s no way you’re cheating on him

- You’d never do that

- You probably bought this for him because you thought it smelt good

- But then why isn’t it full?

- He decides to confront you about it when you get home

- He quickly gets dressed, grabs the bottle and heads downstairs so he can start cooking

- If you are cheating, he’s gonna cook you a meal so damn good you’ll instantly regret your decision

- Then he’ll probably remind you why you’ve stayed with him for all these years after your finished begging for his forgiveness

- He’ll make you beg even more

- He plates the food and sets it up at the table and sits down

- About five minutes later, you walk through the door and instantly smell your favourite food

- Ever since Jean made it, no one else’s has even compared

- “Mm, something smells good, Jean!” You say as you walk into the dining room and see him waiting for you.

- “You like smells?” He asks

- You just give him a confused look in response

- He then puts the cologne on the table rather dramatically, like he just found your secret stash of drugs

- “So… You wanna explain why I found some random cologne in our room?”

- You blink a few times. “Excuse me?”

- “Don’t play dumb, baby.” He says. “I can even smell it on you from here. Whose damn cologne is this?”

- “Ok first, let’s stop with the cop attitude. You’ve been watching way too much NCIS.” You say. “And that cologne was a gift from your mother when you got promoted.”

- Heat spreads across his face when he realizes that he’s been jealous of himself for over an hour

- “Oh… Well… I’ve never smelled it before, so why isn’t it still full?”

- “Because you wore it twice before exiling it to the back of the draw.” You explain.

- Jean clears his throat. “Well then… Never mind, I guess.”

Levi

- He’s checking everyone’s cleaning job when he comes to you

- You smell different

- But it couldn’t be you

- You don’t have anything that smells like bourbon

- And he doesn’t drink

- It could be the cadet your cleaning with

- So he walks up to you and takes a sniff

- Yup, that’s definitely you

- “Oi.” He says, looking over at the cadet. “Get lost.”

- “Yes, sir!” The cadet complies and quickly leaves, bringing the broom with him

- “What is it, Levi?” You ask

- “Why do you smell like that?” He asks

- “Like what?” You ask. “I took a shower this morning.”

- “You smell like bourbon.” He says. “So whose cologne is that?”

- “You’re not serious, right?” You asks. “Levi. This cologne has sat on your bathroom counter for months!”

- “Oh…”

- You start laughing

- “Tch.” He clicks his tongue. “You get to clean the stables now, too.”

- “Wha-? Why?!”

- “Because you laughed at me, brat.”

Hanji

- “Hey, Han!” You exclaim as you walk into their lab. “Whatcha doing?”

- “Working.” They answer absentmindedly as they swirl the liquid in their beaker

- You walk up to Hanji and peer over their shoulder

- The smell of vanilla and patchouli practically smacks Hanji in the face, causing them to immediately look away from their work

- “I know you’re working, silly.” You say. “But what are-?”

- You get cut off by Hanji very audibly sniffing the shirt you’re wearing

- High key sounds like a dog when they smell something new

- “Whose cologne is this?” Hanji asks. “Are mine not nice enough to wear?”

- “Huh?” You say, clearly a little confused

- Hanji then realizes that the shirt you’re wearing isn’t one of yours. It’s a big too big. “And whose shirt is this?”

- “Hanji Zoe.” You smirk. “Are you getting jealous?”

- Hanji removes their glasses and places them on top of their head

- They grip your waist and pull you in close to them

- So close that you can smell their body wash

- “Don’t toy with me, love.” They say lowly. “Who. Do those. Belong to. Don’t make me punish you.”

- You blush a bit, but want to see how far you can take this

- Hanji doesn’t get jealous like this often so you want to have a little fun

- “What will you do if I don’t tell you?”

- “I’ll make sure whoever is trying to take you from me knows that you’re mine.” Hanji answers. “I’ll mark every bit of your skin, and I’ll make sure you scream my name.”

- You wrap your arms around Hanji’s neck

- “Han. This is your shirt.”

- The look of surprise and confusion on their face is adorable

- “This is also your cologne.” You explain further. “I spilled dirty water on my top, so I found this at the bottom of your closet. And because I didn’t want to smell gross, I grabbed the first bottle I could find.“

- “Oh…” Hanji says simply. They start looking anywhere but at your face out of embarrassment.

- “You can keep your promise of punishing me if you want.” You say. “But you’ll need to make up for thinking I’d want to smell like anyone but you.”

- “Fine by me.” Hanji says. “I just gotta finish this experiment, then I’m all yours.”

- They turn back to their work, but you quickly spin them back around in their chair

- “Part of your punishment is not getting to finish… if you catch my drift.”

[heartsforvin]

ONLINE LOVE

thank you nonnie for the request !! i hope you like it (:

pairing: gamer!vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, sexual jokes / innuendos, pure fluff

summary: when vinnie goes on omegle one random night out of boredom, he doesn’t expect to meet you and fall in love in the process

with nothing to do on a friday night, vinnie decided to go on omegele. he hadn't been on the site in years, and honestly thought it had gotten banned.

tagging it with a few trendy things, vinnie fixed up his appearance just a bit before clicking on the video option.

of course he knew he wasn't going to get lucky with someone not showing their junk right away, so he wasn't disappointed when he saw some random guy's dick.

after a few skips and boring people, he finally got to you. "holy shit." he thought he said that in his head, but when you looked up, he knew he didn't.

with a furrow to your eyebrows, you give him a small smile as you say hello.

vinnie can't help but give himself a few extra minutes to stare, you were just so pretty. after a minute, he clears his throat and smiles.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes with a laugh. "just didn't expect to see such a pretty girl."

blushing, you thank him with a smile of your own. "you're not so bad yourself." you reply.

vinnie chuckles as he thanks you like you did him. overtime, the two of you ask each other questions about the other, along with interests.

"you play any video games?" he asks you, and you smile with a shake to your head.

it was honestly kind of hard to focus on conversation with him. the first thing you had noticed when he popped up on your screen was his eyes.

vinnie notices you staring at him and smirks. "am i really that nice to look at?" he chuckles.

you rid your thoughts quickly, almost being embarrassed that he caught you. you wouldn't have the confidence to admit it, but he was good to look at.

smiling, you quickly divert the conversation to his previous question. "not much of a gamer really, unless you count the sims." you say.

vinnie laughs and shakes his head. "nah i'm talkin' real games." he tells you.

rolling your eyes playfully, you give him a scoff. "oh so you're one of those people." you say with a laugh.

when vinnie heard you laugh he swore his heart skipped a beat, and not even to be dramatic. he watched as you went on and on about how the sims was real gaming.

he saw your smile and knew that's something he wanted to see more of. "woah hey, calm down." vinnie laughs as he cuts you off.

you smile, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "what? sims is real gaming, you nerd." you tell him.

vinnie takes in your appearance again and the clothes you're wearing. he can't get enough of you and he just met you.

you do the same, looking at him through the laptop screen, faint blush spreads across your cheeks.

vinnie stands up and the breath is almost knocked out of you when he does. he's wearing sweatpants and a white tank top, muscles on full display.

"you lookin' at my arms or...?" vinnie asks with a chuckle as he sees you staring. "because i can give you soethin' to look at."

laughing, you roll your eyes at him again. "definitely don't want to see that. i've seen too many."

vinnie chuckles and nods his head, completely understanding. although, it doesn't stop him from making a comment.

"you sure? because i do have a tattoo there, but if you don't want see i guess you'll never know." he shrugs.

you wish you were near him so you could hit his arm, instead, you result in a playful scoff and sarcastic reply. "you do not have a tattoo there."

the blonde laughs but shrugs again. "how'd you know if you've never seen it?"

this time, its your turn to shrug. "guess i'll just have to take your word for it." you tell him.

the playful banter continues for about another hour. neither you or vinnie thought you'd actually meet a decent person on this site tonight, but you're both happy you did.

"okay," you say, getting vinnie's attention back onto you and not his phone. "other than gaming, what do you do?"

vinnie stifles a laugh at the question, knowing his answer. "i stream." he tells you.

you already know his answer to your next question so he beats you to it by saying, "yes, i do stream video games."

you can't help but smile. "nerd." you comment with a laugh.

vinnie fires back. "you don't even play real video games, don't even give me that kind of attitude." he says with a laugh.

you brush him off with a scoff. that brought your attention back to the sims games and how you now suddenly got an idea.

"hey vinnie," you get his attention again and he looks up at you. "what if i told you i'm about to make you and me in sims?"

you were half joking, although you did think about the idea of it. vinnie furrows his eyebrows but has a smile on his face.

"that's cute, you should." he tells you, making you smile.

you nod, telling him you'll do it after you get done talking. the two of you talk more for a bit, jokes are made, smiles are shared along with laughs, and vinnie did make one or two comments about you blushing.

in all honesty, he was doing the same thing an you probably could notice. he couldn't help himself, he was starting to think he was falling a bit in love with you.

he did think it was way too soon to tell and you two had known each other for no longer than four hours.

silence fills you two for a minute before vinnie interrupts the silence with what you'd say is a crazy statement.

"you know what you could do if we ever do meet and possibly have a thing going?" he asks, and you don't reply right away, taking his words in.

you didn't want to rush anything at all, but the chemistry between the two of you was very noticeable. so, you raise your eyebrow as you wait for him to tell you.

he smirks, anf you instantly know its another one of his dirty jokes. "never had support from under the desk before."

the minute that sentence leaves his mouth your laughing loudly, quickly trying to stop yourself.

you give him that same look back, smirk turning into a smile as you tease him and tell him maybe one day it'll happen.

you both talk for a bit longer until the two of you decide to call it a night. before yo go, vinnie asks you for your number and you happily give it to him.

he was definitely falling in love with you now if he wasn't already.

thank you nonnie for the request again !! i hope you liked it + everyone else reading this (:

comments, reblogs + feedback of any kind is appreciated <33

tags: @sturnioloshacker , @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @42angelgirl , @leqonsluv3r , @khackerr , @louloulemons-blog , @visualbutterflysworld , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @laylasbunbunny , @defnotayonna , @khxna , @jpg3 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy

[darnell-la]

heyyy :3 I was thinking too much about the patch variant!logan, All I can think of is reader getting fucked on a poker table, something with degradation and choking 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

note: Logan would’ve dealt with a thief in a different way then tonight, but he couldn’t resist y/n. He never could, and tonight was a perfect night to do what he’s been dying to do.

———

“What made you think you could still from me, Bub?” Logan asked as his guard brought her over to the man who hadn’t looked at her yet. He was busy counting money with the rest of the table.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I just needed extra money for rent this month,” y/n said, eyes stinging and heart raising. She swore she was careful, but now she was in front of her boss she had only seen a few times.

“Rent? I don’t pay you enough to cover that, hun?” The man asked. She was afraid to answer, but she had to. She didn’t know what he was capable of, but by how his work looked and how many stories she’d heard of people being terrified of him, she was terrified too.

“Yes — My rent went up a couple of months ago, and I don’t have time to work another job,” y/n explained herself, but he looked up phased by her son's story.

“And you ain’t care to ask me to raise your pay?” Logan asked, and she had, but she couldn’t dare ask. “I-I didn’t think of it,” y/n liked, and the man could tell. Hearing the way her heart stuttered was all he needed.

“Oh, but I think you did. You ain’t no dumb girl, now. I know that by how you tried to steal from me,” Logan said before he snapped his fingers, making the guard kick the back of her knees to force her to the ground.

“I just think you didn’t want to ask. Maybe too scared. Think I’d turn you down, which I would’ve, but I still would’ve taken care of you,”

Logan knows everyone who works for him, whether they know it or not. Y/n has been the only loyal and consistent one yet, and he admired that.

What he didn’t admire was how she thought she could take his money and live with life. He wasn’t a cruel man, but he had to teach her something.

“I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again. I-I promise,” y/n said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ll make sure of it,” was all Logan said before he clapped his hands, causing everyone at the table to get up and make their way out.

“Leave her here — I’ve got her,” Logan said speaking to the guards, still not taking his eyes off the money he was counting. When the guard let y/n go, she rubbed her arm and shoulder where the guard at probably bruised her from how tight he had her in his grip.

“Stand up, you look ridiculous,” Logan said to the young girl, making her do as told. “When I hired you, I expected you to be more feisty,” Logan admitted, making her shake her head slowly.

“You’re my boss, sir,” y/n said, not wanting to get fired from the only job that pays her decently. “Do you have respect for me, princess?” Logan asked the girl as he got up. The way he towered over her, made her legs shake.

“Y-Yes, of course, I do, sir,” Y/n said, barely being able to keep eye contact. Any time she saw him, he looked good. She swore he gets more attractive with every interaction.

“Well, ain’t that so,” Logan stepped closer to y/n their bodies touched. “I like a girl who looks up to me. Don’t get much of them around these days — Especially a pretty little thing like you,”

Y/n looked down, too anxious to make eye contact, but that only egged his mind on further.

Logan lifted Y/n’s head with his finger under her chin until her eyes locked in his. She’s never been looked at like this before. She had no clue what to do.

“But taking my money wasn’t so respectful of you, princess. Might show you the consequences that come with disrespect,”

Logan’s other hand slightly gripped y/n’s waist, only making it more obvious how anxious she was. The shivering wasn’t hard to miss or feel from her.

“I’m sorry-“Y/n tried apologizing again, but this time, Logan shushed her as he placed a finger on her lips. “You’ll show me how sorry you are, Bub, don’t worry,” Logan spoke as he revoked his finger.

Y/n wanted to speak and ask the man what she had to do to show him how sorry she was, but she saw how the man leaned toward her before she could speak.

She pulled back, only a couple of inches by the time Logan’s hand wrapped around the back of her head just to grip and tug.

Y/n let out a small yell before her boss's lips fell onto her neck, licking and sucking in a spot she didn’t know could make her mind blank.

Logan groaned into the girl's neck as his hand on her hip pulled her body into his. Y/n wanted to push the man away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Instead, she moaned.

With that, Logan’s lips stopped on her skin. She felt the smirk he had across his lips. He had her within seconds, and she didn’t know it yet.

Before she knew it, Logan turned her around and forced her down on his poker table that he was just counting money on. The man moved all of his money out of the way before tracing his hands up and down her body.

“Gotta keep you to myself after this one, Bub?” Logan said as he touched every inch of her body that he could. “To damn pretty to ignore,”

Logan tugged on y/n’s waistband until he got her dance panties off. She was already exposed before, but now, he could see everything he was going to destroy.

Logan wasted no time sucking on his fingers, coating them in spit before sliding them past her folds. He curled instantly, making her feel a small purr in the lower end of her stomach.

“Wet little things been waitin’ for me, huh? What do you say?” Logan asked y/n, making her whine before she answered. “T-Thank you,”

“As much as I love the submission, I’m still upset about your actions,” Logan pulled out of y/n and forced her around and on her back. Y/n watched as he fumbled with his belt and pulled himself out.

“Sir-“ Before she could speak and tell him he would be too huge for her, he pushed her body back down by her neck, gripping hard and pinning her back onto the table.

“Don’t glätte me angry, Bub. You don’t wanna see that side of me,” Logan said as he shifted in between her legs. Y/n stayed silent since she in fact did not want to see him that way.

“Good girl — So damn obedient,” the man praised before his tip slipped past her folds. Y/n’s walls instantly clenched around him, making it hard for him to go further, but he managed.

“S-Sir,” y/n’s voice cracked as he broke completely past her folds, allowing his tip to graze her g-spot. “Don’t wanna hear it, Bub. I know for a fact you’ve taken cock before — Just look at you. Too pretty to not be a slut,”

Logan placed his free on y/n’s waist to grip down hard. He wanted to earn every noise possible out of her mouth tonight.

“You’re always the best-dressed dancer — You ain’t foolin’ me, Bub,” Logan said as he pounded into her cunt repeatedly. Y/n tapped on his wrist that was closest to her neck to tell him to loosen up, but there was no way he would. Why would he? She belonged to him, so he’d do whatever he pleased with her.

“Cunts so fuckin’ wet, I just know you fuck rich men in your job. Do you? C’mon, baby, I don’t get mad,” Logan lied, knowing he’d flip her right over and abuse her other hole.

“N-No, sir, I swear,” y/n choked on her whine. “Sure you don’t. Sure you don’t spread your legs just like this for a man with a bit of extra cash for you,” Logan kept going, but Logan knew she wouldn’t. He’s watched her private dances plenty of times to make sure of it.

“N-No, I don’t, sir,” y/n’s hands grabbed the man’s arms, trying to brace herself for what was about to come. “Such a good little thing,” Logan’s voice echoed through her head before she let loose all around him.

“That’s it, keep it comin’ and I might let you stay with me,” Logan said, knowing he was going to keep her whether she wanted to stay or not. Deep down, he knew she needed him in ways she hadn’t thought of yet.

“Gonna get this pussy every day after work, do you understand me? That’s all you’ll do. Please and sit on my lap like a pretty piece of candy,”

“O-Okay,” was all y/n could say. Her voice was low and broken. The way his grip tightened around her neck and his thrust sped up, made everything so much harder for her to do.

“Fuck, Bub,” was the last thing Logan before he felt his knees bucking. He wanted to last longer, but it was impossible with how good she looked, sound, and felt. He was keeping her with no doubt.

[ckret2]

Chapter 41 of human Bill Cipher being really sick of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: after absolutely terrorizing Gideon for projecting used car ads into Bill's dreams, tries to blackmail Gideon into working for him again.

But not before showing some unexpected sympathy for the plight of a child psychic on whose shoulders the family's financial future rests.

####

Dipper and Mabel were in the middle of a race on a roller coaster track when Bill wandered back downstairs. He sat on the couch armrest next to Mabel and precariously balanced as he crossed his legs. "So I've been thinking over this whole thing," Bill said. "I think I should apologize to Gideon."

"Work that out all by yourself?" Dipper glanced at the clock. "Wow. And it only took you half an hour."

Mabel finished a lap. While the roller coaster track slowly lifted her car to the top of the hill to start the next lap, she turned to give Bill an appraising look, ready to assess his work. "Apologize for what?"

"For terrorizing him! Is this a trick question?"

She nodded slowly—a little skeptical, but so far so good—but had to look away as she regained control of her car. "What's your angle?"

"I'm equilateral, work it out."

"Shut uuup, I'm serious."

"Why do I need to have an angle? Maybe I want to practice some of the apology lessons they're teaching on Color Critters! Aren't you the one who wanted me to be a decent person? You should be thrilled. You are thrilled."

"Bill."

"Okay fine, I want you to stop looking at me like I'm evil incarnate over a silly little prank letter." He nudged Mabel's head with his elbow. She smacked his arm away. "Isn't that the only reason anyone apologizes? To stop people from getting mad at them?" He lifted his eyepatch and squinted at the screen. "Goose in the left barrel."

Mabel swerved left. "Yes! Eat tail feathers, Dipper!"

"No no no no—!" His anguished groan mingled with angry honks. He tossed down his controller as Mabel sailed past his disabled car. "I'm not playing with Bill in the room."

Mabel laughed. "You're a sore loser!"

"I'll be out of your matted hair in a few minutes," Bill said. "You're cranky, go get a juice."

Dipper stomped from the room, grumbling. "Whatever, I'm getting a snack." He pointed at Bill, "Not because you told me to! I'm just hungry! It's got nothing to do with you!"

"Sure." Bill nudged Mabel again. "C'mon, let me use my training. Don't think I haven't noticed you're trying to mold me into a model citizen. Why bother if I never get a chance to act like one?"

Mabel looked at him thoughtfully. "You know what? Okay. I guess not wanting people to be mad at you is a good enough reason to apologize." She'd been hoping he'd land on genuine remorse, but she'd take what she could get.

"Great! Fisherman's out, Questiony's working, Sixer's gonna be in his cave til dinner, Dolores doesn't care—" Bill gestured toward the door, "so let's get the bracelets and get to the kid's house while the adults are distracted."

Mabel grimaced. "Oough. Right. We have to actually visit him."

"Unless you want me to mail an apology letter—"

"Definitely not." She sighed. "Well, if it's for the greater good... put on something other than a hoodie and let's go."

"You got it." Bill hopped off the couch and swung with one hand around the doorframe as he headed to the stairs.

####

Dipper tried to protest, but he'd missed his window to talk Mabel out of it; and so Bill and Mabel headed out, with Bill in a loose smiley face-covered Hawaiian shirt—Mabel approved of the friendly message—an undershirt, the leggings that looked like jeans, and his dress shoes. In other words, about as disarmingly unthreateningly un-Bill-like as he could get. He seemed to get bouncier and more energetic the longer they walked outside, until by the time they were turning onto Gideon's street he was cartwheeling up the sidewalk.

Bill waited for Mabel to open the gate in front of Gideon's house; but while Bill blithely passed through, Mabel lingered behind a few steps. Bill paused and glanced back. "Hey. All good, star girl?"

"Yeah." Mabel laughed nervously and caught up. "Just... haven't been to his house since before he got weird. Kinda gives me the willies now."

"Can't blame you. This is the guy who agreed to be my sheriff in exchange for custody of your bubble key."

Mabel cringed. "Did he really?"

"Oh yeah. Think he was planning to visit you in there until he wooed you? I never asked him. I didn't want the details."

"Ugh." Mabel shuddered.

Bill paused. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that ten feet from his front door."

"It's... it's fine." She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Greater good. Right?"

He didn't answer immediately, tapping a foot as he thought. "Listen. Once we're in there, do you want me to go somewhere private to talk with him? So you don't have to worry about him leering at you the whole time?"

"Would you?" Mabel's shoulders slumped as a little tension eased up, relief obvious on her face. "But how will I know if you've apologized properly?"

"That little tattle will tell you if I do an awful job." Bill laughed. "Come on! I don't need you grading me on a rubric! Gimme a chance to prove I can say 'I'm sorry' without my life coach telling me how to behave."

"Thanks, Bill." She gave him a quick hug.

"Sure, any time kid. I'm not about to let any creeps get to you on my watch." Bill stretched his arms out, fingers laced together. "Ready?" When Mabel nodded, Bill knocked on the door.

After a long moment, a worried-looking, gray-haired woman opened the door. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Gleeful!" Bill offered a partial bow. "We're here to visit Gideon, he should be expecting us. Would you let him know we're here?"

"Oh. Yes, of course." Her voice was a hushed murmur, as though she were talking to herself—or perpetually concerned about being overheard. She didn't raise her voice much as she called into the house, "Gideon? You have visitors."

Voice muffled, Gideon shouted from upstairs, "Who is it!"

Joy glanced over Bill and Mabel, but her gaze lingered on Mabel's face. "Oh. Aren't you that girl he...?"

"It's Mabel."

Joy said, "It's Mabel, and—"

Gideon let out an alarmed squawk. "Ohmygoodness. JUST A MINUUUTE! Where did I leave my cologne—"

Joy watched the ceiling nervously, listening to the subtle thuds.

Bill glanced her up and down, as though sizing up what he had to work with; and then he smiled brightly and said, "Well, I'm sure the little star's preparing a big entrance! Shall we wait inside?"

Joy started a little. "Oh—yes, of course. Please, come in." She pulled the door open wider and gestured to the sitting area.

Bill and Mabel took a seat on the couch. Bill crossed one ankle over his knee in a casual figure 4, and gestured to the armchair as though he were the host giving his guest permission to sit. Joy hesitated, but took the seat, sitting straight up without touching the back of the seat, feet together and hands laced over her knees.

"And how has Gideon been lately?" Bill asked. "We haven't had a chance to catch up since last summer!"

"Oh—I'm sure he's probably fine," Joy said, eyes darting around—to the clean carpet, to the framed pictures hanging straight on the wall, to the doorway into the kitchen.

"'Probably'?" Bill echoed.

"Well. He's really closer to his father, you see..."

"Nonsense." Bill lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I trust a woman's intuition on this sort of thing." He paused. "I'd wink here, but uh..." He gestured at his eye patch and shrugged with a helpless grin.

Joy curled her lips into her mouth and, for the first time since she'd opened the door, for a fraction of a second, nearly almost smiled. But it faded quickly; and when she spoke, her voice was low enough that Mabel had to lean halfway across the coffee table to hear her. (Bill didn't even move.) "You should probably know before you see him: he... has seemed a little bit cranky, recently."

"Oh?" Bill prompted.

(Mabel mumbled, "'Recently'?" and Bill nudged her.)

"Nothing like he was when he—" Joy faltered and quickly course corrected, "before his arrest. But, a bit. But then he's going through so much—reintegrating into life on the outside, trying to make friends at school..."

"Say, that's nice to hear! Has he made many?"

Joy hesitated. "He's always been... such a precocious child. It makes it hard for him to relate to other... And honestly, I think most of the children are jealous of his talents."

Bill nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure they are. Kids can be so cruel when they notice someone special. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down."

Joy nodded. "Yes—exactly. And he's so... sensitive."

Bill gave Mabel a warning glance. She pursed her lips tightly and puffed out her cheeks. Satisfied she wasn't about to weigh in on why Gideon wasn't making friends, Bill turned back to Joy. "Do you think that's what's been bothering him lately?"

"Well, yes, there's that."

Voice a tad lower, Bill prompted, "And...?"

Joy paused. She twisted her hands together. "And—I think he might be concerned about his father's business."

"Oh, the auto dealership?" Bill sat up a little. "I hope it hasn't been struggling lately?"

"It's... been a slow few months," Joy said. "It must be weighing on him—"

"He doesn't feel responsible, does he?"

Joy quickly shook her head. "Of course not. It isn't his fault. But he's just a little boy, there's not much he can do to help. Besides perform in a commercial, maybe—and he doesn't like that, we don't make him do that anymore—or..." She trailed off. "Well. Not knowing how to help or what to do... I can imagine he must feel... guilty." She stared down at her hands as she spoke.

Bill's gaze never wavered from her face. He nodded slowly. "I'm sure the business must be weighing on the whole family. It can't be easy for you, Joy—keeping a household running during such a difficult time." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll see what I can do to help you all."

Joy stared at his face, eyes shining. "I'm, sorry—did I catch your name?"

"Mr. Locke is fine, thanks. I was in business talks with your son before his incarceration."

Mabel leaned against Bill and whispered, "You mean he hired you to invade my grunkle's brain—"

Bill elbowed her.

Footsteps scurried down the stairs. "I'm coming!" Gideon rushed into the room, tugging his sleeves down his wrists, all gussied up and reeking of three separate hair products. "Hi Mabel my honey pie! What a pleasant surprise, what brings you by so s—" His gaze fixed on Bill, and his sweet smile twisted into fury. "You!"

Joy quickly stood up. "I should be—vacuuming the dining room." She hurried from the room, giving Gideon a wide berth as she went. The sound of vacuuming quickly filled the house.

Gideon never looked away from Bill. "Just what do you think y—"

Bill was on his feet and sweeping across the room before Gideon could get more out. "Hello again! I don't think we were properly introduced. The name's Goldie Locke." He blinked. "Wink."

Gideon grimaced. "You serious? Goldilocks? That's the best you could do?"

"I thought it was funny!"

Mabel scooted up onto the arm of the sofa, took a leap off, and landed next to Bill. "I came up with it!"

Gideon smiled uncomfortably. "Oh—sure, sure. Real cute."

"We came by so Goldie here," Mabel poked Bill's arm with both hands, "could give you a proper apology for his... 'prank.'" She got behind Bill and poked him in the back, directing him toward the stairs. "So you two go off somewhere private and do that! Go! Go on!"

"Wh— private?" Gideon leaned around Bill to give Mabel a pleading look. "M-Mabel, aren't you coming too?"

Mabel laughed nervously. "No, definitely not. I'm staying right here."

"But—but—"

"It's fine! If he tries any—" her voice dropped to a whisper, "—weird space demon magic—you can just scream. But he's basically harmless! I promise."

"But... I don't wanna be alone with..."

Bill put a hand on Gideon's back, turned him around, and practically dragged him toward the stairs. "And she doesn't want to be alone with you, and I'm going to respect her wishes."

Gideon hissed at Bill. He wasn't quite sure what to do when Bill hissed back. No one had ever done that before.

"You've got nothing to worry about," Bill said, giving Gideon a very worrying smile. "I just want an opportunity to show you the sincerity of my remorse. A little heart-to-heart! And anyway, you and I have a lot of catching up to do."

####

The moment Gideon's bedroom door shut, Bill said, in an exaggeratedly innocent golly-gee-whiz voice, "'Well, Mabel, the thing is, I was just cranky because I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in days, because Gideon's been broadcasting mind control dreams to the town multiple times a week! Yeah, you know how you've been waking up feeling hypnotically compelled to buy a car? Good ol' Gideon! But you're right, bullying isn't the solution! I should have just asked him to cast his brainwashing spell a little further from the Mystery Shack—'" Bill cut off with a laugh. "I take it you get the picture! Your flesh is as white as your hair! It's—it's creepy. Stop it."

Gideon was already on the far side of the room, holding a floating arm desk lamp toward Bill like a sword. Voice shaking, he asked, "How do you know about that spell? H-how are you even alive? And here like... like this?"

"Does it matter?" Bill meandered around the room, looking at Gideon's matching nightstands, his TV, the floppy teddy bear on his bed. "Here's the only important question: what's it worth to you for me not to spill the beans to your sweetheart?"

Gideon swallowed hard.

As Bill rounded the bed, Gideon backed away from him until his back was pressed against the wall between his vanity and his dresser. Bill leaned over to look under the bed and nudged a rolled-up tarp with his foot. It unrolled across the floor, revealing Gideon's magic circle. "Uh-huh."

"Please stop looking around my room."

"Relax, I just want to see what's changed! This is hardly the first time I've seen your room." He glanced down at the subtle depiction of his face woven into the pattern on Gideon's carpet. "I've had eyes in here since you were a baby." 

He leaned over Gideon's bed, studying his knit zodiac blanket. "Although this eye is new. You went with red, white, and blue? How patriotic." He tugged at the blanket's edges, straightening it out. "Lots of pilling on the yarn, this thing's been very well loved. Does it still smell like Shooting Star, you cretin?"

"You keep your hands off of Mabel's blanket, you—!" Gideon swung his lamp toward Bill. It missed by a foot.

Bill didn't even flinch. "You're very lucky that you missed." For a moment, his voice was inhumanly low.

Gideon's blood ran cold. He clutched the lamp against his chest. "W-what do you want from me? I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep, all right? Is that what you want to hear?!"

"It's a good start!" Bill sat on Gideon's bed and made himself comfortable, propping himself up on his elbows, ankles crossed casually, resting in the center of his own zodiac. "Now, promise you'll stop advertising in people's dreams, and everything's forgiven!"

"I..." Gideon bit his lip.

Bill grinned a little wider. "What's the problem, kid? It's not like your daddy needs you running his advertising campaign! The family finances aren't resting on your shoulders!" He laughed.

Gideon just bit his lip harder. 

"Oh wait. Maybe they are. Are they?"

He looked down at the tarp. "Mrrng."

Bill sat up, leaning forward until he caught Gideon's gaze again. "So sorry, Star Boy! I didn't realize how serious your situation is!" His wicked smile said otherwise. "Wow, that must be so hard for you��the family breadwinner, at such a young age. Knowing your family needs you to keep them afloat. And it's not like you can just go out and get a job! So what can you do, except... well, whatever it is you already know how to do? Putting on a good show, right?"

"It's not like that," Gideon snapped, ignoring the weight in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his lamp weapon and tugged anxiously at one of his sleeves. "It—it's not as though we're broke! We just... might have to tighten our belts a little bit, that's all. It's normal, most businesses have their ups and downs."

"Of course. Just no big shopping trips for a while! Pity you're about to need a whole new wardrobe, though."  Bill casually pushed himself off Gideon's bed, taking a step closer. "Hey, wanna know when your next growth spurt starts?"

Gideon shrank down. "No."

"It costs a lot to keep a growing kid clothed. And fed, and stocked with school supplies... If father asks for a little help, how can you refuse? If you don't, you could lose the business, lose your house, lose everything... all that, plus knowing it'd be your fault for not doing what you can? It's heartbreaking."

Bill leaned over Gideon, propping himself up with a hand on his dresser, trapping him in his shadow. Gideon cringed; but Bill asked, voice unexpectedly low and almost gentle, "You're so important. There's a helplessness that comes from wielding that kind of power, isn't there?"

The weight in Gideon's stomach grew heavier. Bill must have been watching his life ever since last fall; that was the only way he could have understood what Gideon was feeling so well. And yet—hearing someone else put it into words was a strange relief. He'd cut to the bleeding core of the issue. Gideon was the only one with the power to do anything, so he had to do something. It was a helplessness.

"Yeah." Gideon put his lamp back on his dresser, defeated. "Yeah, there is."

Bill crouched in front of Gideon, meeting him at eye level. "It just so happens that I'm sympathetic to your situation, kid. I get it." It was hard to read the mood in Bill's alien gaze; but for a moment, Gideon was sure he really did see a glimmer of sympathy in his slit pupil. "So how about this: I could help you out. Make some calls, pull some strings... give the family business a little boost," he said. "If you do me a couple small favors first."

Outraged, Gideon shouted, "You're blackmailing me into working for you again?! You—!" With a furious grunt, Gideon shoved Bill away from him.

To his surprise (and immediate horror), Bill lost balance, toppling onto his back with a yelp. But he just rolled onto his side and hopped back to his feet, laughing. "No no no! I'm blackmailing you into knocking off the annoying dream spell. That's all! Cut it out, or I'm telling Mabel. And—heck, how about the police while I'm at it?"

"You wouldn't—"

"I am pals with the sheriff and the mayor. Mind control happens to already be illegal in Gravity Falls, you can thank Quentin Trembley for that—such a forward thinker! I don't think there are any state-level laws yet, but I bet they'll wriiite ooone just for yoo-oou." The last sentence came out as a singsong taunt. "Anyway: drop the mind control. That's all I'm asking for. Okay?"

Gideon had circled around Bill to his bed, where he pulled off his zodiac blanket and bundled it against his chest. He wasn't sure which sounded worse. Prison probably should, but the thought of giving Mabel a fresh reason to hate him... He looked down at the blanket, and heaved a shaky sigh. "Okay."

"So? We're agreed? No more dream advertisements?"

"No more dream advertisements. You win."

"Great!" Bill beamed at Gideon. "But then, completely separately, if you want help saving the family business... well, offer's on the table! In fact, I'd happily offer to help without asking anything in return—"

"—you should, it's mostly your fault—"

"—except that, with my own situation being like it is, what with the limited access to my usual resources... I need you to help me help you." He spread his hands apologetically. "Nothing I can do about it."

Gideon pressed his lips together, looking down at his zodiac blanket. A fold in the fabric displayed part of the ripped heart. Gideon plucked out the blanket until he could glimpse the top of the shooting star.

He swallowed hard. "No. Absolutely not."

Bill blinked. "'Scuse me?"

"I can't accept your help," Gideon said. "I lead a support group of ex-cons—the very same ones I stupidly led into battle for you—and what would they say if they heard I was working for you again?"

The indulgent smile on Bill's face vanished. Rage flashed in his eye. "What would they say if they learned you're the first among them to reoffend?" He pointed at Gideon's magic circle. "Wouldn't they be disappointed. Aren't they your followers these days?"

Gideon squirmed under Bill's glare, backing away until he bumped into one of his nightstands. "F... 'followers'?"

"Your devotees—now that your Tent of Telepathy audience has abandoned you." The new smile that twisted across Bill's face now was hard and cruel, and his eye fixed like a prison searchlight on Gideon made Bill seem much closer than he was. "Isn't being worshiped sublime, Star Boy? That unconditional love? A worshiper will always be more reliable than some girl's fickle heart. But even the most 'unconditional' love always comes with fine print. How far are you willing to go to remain worthy of their love?"

Bill pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and waved it in the air. "We both know you'll help your daddy's business. The only question is if you'll do it your way, or mine." He placed the paper on Gideon's dresser and tapped it with his finger. "My way doesn't even involve breaking the law."

Gideon shook his head. "I won't..."

"I'll leave it with you anyway."

Bill strolled around the bed. "Well! I think we're finished here, how about you?" He stopped in front of the door.

He turned back. "Gideon, you're gonna have to get the door, I can't..."

"What?" Gideon asked. "Y'can't what?"

Bill huffed. "I'm sort of under this curse? So. If you could just—"

Gideon burst out laughing in disbelief. "The Amnesia Limina curse? You can't open doors?! Are you kidding me!"

"I can still ruin the rest of your embarrassingly short mortal life, you twit. Just—just get over here—"

Still laughing, Gideon crossed the room and got the door.

"Yeah. Thanks. Great."

As they came downstairs, Mabel hopped off the sofa. "Sooo? How'd the apology go?"

"Great!" Bill got in front before Gideon had a chance to speak. "I think we really understand each other better. Isn't that right, Gideon?"

Gideon grumped, "I think it's the worst 'apology' I've ever heard."

Bill gave him a dirty look powerful enough to kill a skittish horse; but he flinched under the weight of Mabel's disappointed frown. He laughed nervously, "Okay, so I still need some practice with my delivery! Human tones are finicky." He stared at Gideon. "But you accept the overall content of it, right?"

Bill was giving Gideon the creepiest smile he'd ever seen. But Mabel, on the other hand, was giving him this hopeful look—like she wanted this to go well so badly, and only Gideon could make or ruin her day. There's a helplessness that comes with wielding that kind of power.

In the world Gideon had been raised in, if someone who has transgressed against you apologizes, you don't have the right to withhold their forgiveness—it makes you as bad as the transgressor. The only way he could refuse was if he told Mabel he hadn't even gotten any apology; but there was no way to say that without admitting what they'd really discussed. "Yeah," Gideon muttered at his shoes. "I s'pose I accept it."

"Yes!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air so enthusiastically she lifted a few inches off the floor. "Great work! Happy face stickers for everybody!" She smacked a sticker on Bill's shirt and Gideon's lapel.

They tugged out their clothes to inspect their stickers. Bill's had a giant yellow smiley face over the words "Good job!" Gideon's had a smiling whale surrounded by the words "WHALE DONE". They were both disproportionately elated by their prizes.

"So can we go now?" Mabel whispered, "I feel like Mr. Gleeful's new clown painting is staring at me."

"Just one second. I should have a word with the missus of the house." Bill waved back at the kids as he trotted from the room. "Be right back!"

Mabel eyed Gideon warily.

Gideon smiled winningly. "So, Mabel. As long as you're already over here, would you like to stay for dinner—?"

"Nuh-uh." She turned and headed for the door. "Goodbye forever!"

"Aw."

Bill followed the sound of vacuuming through the kitchen into the dining room, and rapped on the doorframe. "Knock knock."

Joy flinched and spun around. "Oh." She turned off her vacuum. "Yes, Mr. Locke?"

"Just wanted to thank you for your hospitality before we leave!"

"Oh—yes, of course. You're welcome."

He lowered his voice, "And I also wanted to tell you not to worry about a thing. I'm sure everything will turn out fine for your family—and for you." He flashed her a winning smile.

She hesitantly nodded. "Thank you."

####

As they walked to the gate around the Gleeful property, Mabel said, "You weren't just all talk with Gideon's mom, were you? You actually are planning to help her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Something like that. How'd you know?"

"You told her to call you Mister. That means you mean business!"

A crooked smile stretched across his face. "Hey! No fair, you know too much. You're figuring out all my secrets."

Out on the sidewalk, Bill did a cartwheel, attempted to turn it into a handstand, and fell on the sidewalk. He brushed off a scraped elbow with a grumble and got back up. Well, it matched his burn on the other side.

"4 out of 10."

"I didn't ask."

Mabel snickered. "You know—your conversation with Gideon might not have gone perfectly. But you realized you did something wrong, you apologized for it, and you're gonna do better." She patted his arm. "I'm really proud of you, Bill. That's some serious growth."

"Really?"

"Really."

He beamed. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had been proud of him. (Granted, he didn't generally tolerate relationships in which somebody felt like they had enough superiority over him to feel "pride" toward his actions. Generally "awe" or "admiration" were more common.) He was basking in the praise. He was over the moon. He was euphoric. He was the best person to ever exist.

The fact that the praise was horribly misplaced didn't faze him in the least.

####

Gideon had spent the past minute picking peas out of his pot pie and scooting them to the edge of his plate.

Bud cleared his throat. "Son, you really ought to eat your vegetables. And they'll taste better mixed in with the rest of your food than all by themselves."

"I don't want my peas."

"But they're good for you! Don't you want to grow up big and strong—?"

Gideon flinched. He pounded the table. "I said I don't WANT my peas!"

"All right, okay, that's fine! Just thought I'd suggest it."

Gideon grumpily scooped up a forkful of chicken, carrots, and corn, eyed the carrots skeptically, and took a bite. It was fine. "So, father. How was work?"

Bud sighed. "Oh, it would've made more sense just to close for the day. At least then I wouldn't be wasting money on air conditioning the office."

"Oh." Gideon stabbed at a lone piece of corn with his fork. "Maybe we oughta... stop with the nighttime ads. It doesn't sound like they're helping."

"Ahh, you might be right."

Gideon heaved a sigh of relief.

"I just don't know what else to try." Bud shook his head. "I've tried newspaper ads, TV ads, radio ads, billboards, fliers, sales, cutting brake lines..." He settled his hand near Gideon's spot at the table. "Son, you know I know you're doing the best you can to help our family, and it means more to me than I can say. But, if there's anything else you can think of...?"

Gideon tried to avoid his father's gaze—and instead, spotted his mother. She usually kept to herself during dinner, wholly focused on her own plate when she wasn't setting out dishes or cleaning them up. But tonight, she was looking right at Gideon. Like she expected something out of him, too.

He shrank into his seat. "Well. I've got one other idea I could try."

####

Gideon shut the door to his room—and, just to be safe, stuck his chair under the doorknob. Then he gingerly picked up the paper on the dresser and unfolded it.

The same tall, thin handwriting as on the letter he'd received—but even more cramped, cramming as much text on one torn-out book page as possible. A terse paragraph of instructions, a phone number, a numbered list of questions, a prepared statement.

Gideon got his mobile phone and a notebook, set up to take notes at his vanity, took a deep breath, let it out, and dialed the number. As the phone rang, he looked at himself in the mirror and muttered, "Heaven help me if I'm facilitating the start of Armageddon."

Then someone picked up, and he held the phone up to his ear. "Hello? Oh, right, er—" He read off the paper Bill had given him, "'But rises gold over the pyramid.' ... Yes. Mhm, I'm calling on behalf of... of Bill Cipher. ... My name's not important, I'm just the messenger—oh, oh you recognize my voice! Haha!" He mopped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "A-always nice to meet a fan! Yeah, we know each other. Small world. N... no, he didn't give me my... I was—was psychic before I met him, actually. Sorry, I didn't catch your name—who'm I speaking to?"

Gideon looked at Bill's list of questions, wrote a 1. in his notebook, and beside it wrote "Sue Blime." One question down. "I have a message to pass on."

####

He pushed harder.

Her skin fractured and peeled off, strand after strand. It filled the spaces between his fingertips, wrapped up his arms. He could shut his eye but he still saw it through his eyelid, still felt it tickling at the corners of his mouth. He let out an angry, hysterical, broken laugh.

And then he laughed louder, and louder—higher, shriller, echoing all the way to the distant stars. "What am I doing?" He opened his eye and looked at his hands, tangled with gold threads and soaked in blood. He laughed again, gleeful. "What am I doing! None of this is real! This is a dream! We're in my dreamscape. None of this matters! I control all of you!"

Bill controlled all of them.

He effortlessly peeled his arm off the plane of his dimension into the third, still tangled in gore, and spun his finger. The golden shreds of skin let go of his hand, rotating around his hand in a loose tornado. Cackling again, he rose up into space, looping like a paper airplane on a breeze, telekinetically twirling the countless golden shreds with him like he was doing a ribbon dance. And wasn't it beautiful? He was changing their color—yellow green blue violet red orange yellow—he was melting them down to floating drops of liquid gold, he was making them vanish into thin air. There was no blood on his hands. There never had been. He had never killed. His mother did not exist.

He glanced toward the stars. "Am I gonna have any meddling from you? Want to sell me any cars tonight?"

The stars didn't answer. Good. He didn't want his show interrupted by a commercial break.

"I control you," Bill announced to the crowd of assembled worshipers below, numb and thoughtless and unmoving while the god of this dream had no use for them to live. "You answer to me!" He jabbed his thumb against his golden face—not the internal organs exposed to the third dimension the rest of the shapes had, but the exoskeleton he wouldn't start wearing until centuries after this memory. "The only life you have is in my head! All of you, all of you have been burned away for a trillion years!" He paused, then flashed two finger guns at a red hexagon in the crowd. "All except you, Hect. Always great to see a long-time fan!"

In the field of frozen shapes, Bill's memory of Hectorgon hesitantly waved.

"But..." Beneath Bill, still as aghast as he'd been so many eons ago, still playing his part to move this dream along, his father said, "But... what are we going to tell your followers?"

"Ugh, you're such a downer. Give it a rest, you old square!" Bill did something no prisoner of the second dimension had ever been capable of doing: he snapped his fingers. His father silently dissolved into origami butterflies and fluttered into space. "You barely even liked her."

He floated back down to the plane, lacing his fingers together to stretch his arms in front of him. "I don't need you," he muttered. "I've got this handled. I've always been the one who had this handled. Now let's end this dream the right way."

Time to sucker his suckers.

He swooped through the open doors to speak to his assembled worshipers as effortlessly as though he'd been doing this a trillion years: "My beautiful, loving believers! I have wonderful news. Your high priestess—my mother—has passed on; but, you should be celebrating! Because she hasn't abandoned us! Her spirit's just ascended—not up, but out of our dimension and into the third, where the spirits of all departed shapes live on! Her spirit's formed a bridge from there to me, and through me to you! She's revealed the true nature of the third dimension—a sublime realm of color and life—and I'll reveal it to you, too!"

The black starry void of the third dimension above Bill mutated as he spoke; now, it was raucous colors, beams of light, and glittery gold. Faraway neon-colored shapes danced deliriously through nebulas and clouds.

"I'll teach you the secrets passed down to us from the enlightened third-dimensional spirits; I'll show you how to see it all for yourself... and if you follow me, if you devote yourself entirely to my teachings, if you trust me blindly—blindly, for I can see what others can't—then I'll guide you INTO the third dimension! I will be your teacher, your divine guide, your muse! So tell me: do you trust me?"

The worshipers cheered.

"Do you worship me?!"

The worshipers screamed.

"Do you love me!"

The worshipers howled, mad with love for Bill, ripping each other apart in a spontaneous outpouring of zealotry.

Bill's shrieking laughter rose up above the roar of his imaginary crowd.

####

For the first time since his death, Bill woke fully rested. Dawn streamed in through the attic window, shining golden on the cloud of curly hair dangling in front of his eyes. And wasn't it beautiful? He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothed it back, and pushed it into the right shape.

He checked to make sure no humans were coming for a while, slid Journal 4 out of its hiding place, and flipped to the page where he'd stuck his "Good Job!" sticker. He'd used his stolen half-dried marker to blacken the sides of the yellow smiley face, turning it from a circle into a triangle, draining the last of its ink in the process. He wasted four pages with every detail he could recollect from this dream, going on and on about how easy it had been to assert his rightful control, how effortless to control time and space. If he ever found the human who wrote that lucid dreaming guide, he was giving 'em a planet.

At the end, he wrote in English, "You'll regret turning me down as your teacher, Stanford. You can't even imagine how many people would have committed murder to get that kind of attention. But I gave it to you."

He tried to remember how that sermon had really gone.

What did he need to remember the truth for? It must have gone something like that. He wouldn't still be here if it hadn't, would he?

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment!! Next week we kick off with more of Bill's history—and then start ramping up for the biggest, longest plot arc so far.)

[happy74827]

Burning Bridges

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Upon an incident that was out of your control, Dexter comes to the realization that it wasn't just a coincidence.

WC: 1951

Category: Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort

I forgot how much I missed this show (him), so I decided to write another. It's been so long since I last wrote for him that I actually see the difference in my writing. It's wack.

『••✎••』

Dexter was many things… a brother, a son, a pro bowler, a serial killer… but what he lacked was being a good friend.

He didn't understand friendship or its value. It was something that he simply couldn't grasp. Sure, he was able to fake it well enough in order to make sure that people liked him and didn't find him too creepy or strange, but there was never any real emotional connection. In his mind, everyone was either someone he needed or someone he didn't need, and he would treat them accordingly. The only exceptions to this rule were his sister, Debra, and you.

The two of you had met back in college, having been assigned to be each other's partners for a group project. It was a poetry class and a course that Dexter hadn't really wanted to take, but a general education requirement and the promise of an easy A convinced him to at least show-up and suffer through it. Well, for a guy who had to fake every single aspect of his personality in order to fit in with society, it turned out that poetry didn’t come quite as easily as he thought it would.

He had always found the art form to be rather silly, with all the emphasis on metaphors and flowery language. There was no purpose or goal other than to be creative and artsy, and it bored him to no end. The first time you had sat down with him to discuss the project, you could tell how much he didn't want to be there, and the look of complete disinterest on his face as he tried to figure out what your poem meant was the most hilarious thing that you had seen in a while. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound of which made him sit up and give you a quizzical look.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, confused.

"Nothing," you replied, still giggling. "It's just that I can tell that you don't like poetry."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you haven't said a word; you're just sitting there, staring off into space and twirling your pencil between your fingers," you told him, and he glanced down at the utensil as if he didn't realize that he was doing that.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess," he apologized, his tone making it clear that he was actually a little annoyed at having been called out on his inattentiveness.

"That's okay. I like poetry, so I'll be happy to do most of the work," you offered, smiling sweetly, and his eyebrows raised.

And that you did. In fact, you loved it so much that you majored in English and planned on getting your Masters, while Dexter got his degree in criminology. It was a nice trade-off because while he struggled in poetry, getting down into the debts of his feelings that were nonexistent, you struggled with chemistry, unable to wrap your head around the subject no matter how hard you tried.

So, the two of you had a mutually beneficial agreement. You did all the work for the poetry class, and in exchange, he tutored you in chemistry and made sure that you got a decent grade. Once the class was over and done with, the two of you stayed friends, though you had very little in common. Dexter had no interest in books, and you had no interest in criminology. He was a loner, and you had plenty of friends. You were a romantic, and he was completely unromantic. He didn't even have a girlfriend, and you had been in three different relationships over the course of the two years that you had known him.

Still, the two of you got along well enough. You were one of the only people that Dexter could actually stand for more than five minutes, and he was the same to you. So you went out to the bar sometimes, hung out with his sister, and did your best to keep him company while also doing your best to try to set him up on dates, hoping that one of these days, he'd actually find someone. It eventually did work out when you found him Rita, but as of right now, she had broken up with him, and he was back to being a lonely bachelor which it didn't bother him much until now.

You were in the hospital, your head wrapped and bandaged like a mummy. You were apparently attacked outside the grocery store, and if it wasn’t for the small instructions he had given you for self-defense, you most likely wouldn’t have survived.

At first, Dexter didn’t think of it as anything important in terms of his line of work. He believed it to be a coincidence, a random crime in the night. But it turned into something more the night he decided to visit with some cake.

“How’s the head?” He asked as he came inside, seeing you propped up reading. Of course, you were reading.

You shrugged. “Like I’m wearing a sweater hat, but it doesn't hurt, so there's that." You paused, setting down your book and glancing at him. "I’m still salty about my groceries. Almost two hundred dollars I spent on that stuff. Gone. Wasted. Poof."

Dexter had to chuckle a bit. "Hey, I can't do much about the food, but I brought you something," he said, revealing the white box.

"Is it chocolate? If it is, I love you," you joked.

"No, it's just vanilla. But, here."

He opened the lid and showed you, and you immediately lit up.

"Awww, Dexter! You are the best friend ever," you gushed, giving him a warm smile.

He smiled back. "It's the least I could do."

He was cutting it up for you when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t seem to notice, but out in the hall, a shadow passed by the window. His body went on alert, eyes flickering towards the door. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out an elderly man with gray hair and a beard.

Dexter's face remained unchanged, though his body language betrayed him as he sat the cake knife down. He knew that look. That look in a man's eyes when he was looking at prey. This was a predator.

"Hey, uh, what was that description again? Of the man who attacked you," Dexter asked, his tone a bit distracted.

"You mean Santa Claus on drugs? That pretty much sums it up. Why?" You looked up, confused.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing."

But it was something. The man had apparently come back to finish the job, and Dexter's jaw clenched at the thought. He was already planning his death in his mind. It wouldn’t be pretty. He gave you a piece of cake, swearing that he’d be back soon before going after the man. He stopped at the lobby momentarily, informing Angel to keep an eye on you, which, of course, the cop complied with.

Angel was a good cop. He was loyal, smart, and a damn good shot. But there was one thing that made him a great cop. He cared about his city and the people in it. He would protect the innocent no matter the cost, especially when it came down to those he was closest to. He was the kind of guy who would risk his life without a second thought if it meant saving others.

This is why Dexter liked Angel and why he was the only one that he trusted with this job.

Finding the man was extremely easy on his part. Dexter already knew what the guy’s plan was, so he stuck around outside the parking lot, watching the shadows. After a few minutes, the man appeared, heading towards the entrance once again.

He never got that far.

A hand was clamped over his mouth while the other dragged him away from the double doors and towards the side of the building. Dexter didn’t pull out his knife, though, only resorting to his arms as he applied pressure against his throat. The man fought, trying to break free, but he didn't get the chance. Dexter didn’t kill him, no, not yet, but his arm was still strong, and he had no plans to let go.

“Listen closely. If you so much as look the wrong way, I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Understand? Nod if you do," he threatened, his voice calm and even. The man nodded, terrified, his eyes wide.

"Good," Dexter replied, “Why are you here?"

The man was quiet, but he was breathing heavily, and his eyes were watering.

"Talk. That girl, why are you after her?"

"I’m not—”

"You attacked her, and now you came back to finish the job, did you not? Who sent you?"

The man was sweating; his face was flushed and red. Dexter was pressing too hard, and his victim was starting to lose air. He didn’t care.

"Who?" He repeated.

The man choked, unable to speak.

"Last chance. Who sent you? And don't lie to me."

The man didn’t answer, and Dexter tightened his hold. That finally did it. The man began to squirm violently, trying to break free, but it was too late. His face started to turn purple, and Dexter had to adjust his grip and pull him closer.

“It wasn’t personal! I had to! I didn't have a choice! It was just a job!" He gasped out, struggling for air. “I got paid to do it. I was just doing what I was told! Please, please, don't kill me."

"Who was it?"

"I—I don’t know. It was some lady. I met her at a bar. She didn’t give her name, but he wasn’t American. She gave me ten thousand dollars and told me that the job was to attack this chick in the parking lot and make it look like an attempted robbery. Said it had to be done in a couple of days. Listen, man, I didn't want to do it. But the money—"

"What did she look like?" Dexter cut in.

"Dark hair. Young. I don't know! I don't know, I swear. She wore sunglasses the whole time. Please, don’t kill me. Please."

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The Dark Passenger was roaring, the realization washing over him like cold water.

Lila.

Everything made sense now. The way she had suddenly showed up out of nowhere, the incident outside the bowling alley, her sudden interest in you. It all made sense. She was behind it. She had done it.

Dexter wanted to snap the man's neck. He wanted to rip his throat out. He wanted to take his knife and stab him over and over again, to punish him for what he had done to you, but he refrained. He had the answers he needed, and the cameras around were still running.

He dropped him and watched him collapse, gasping for air. He didn't move, too scared and in shock to do so. Dexter didn’t say a word; his anger was silent, but it was boiling beneath his skin.

He was going to kill her. He was going to hunt her down and end her, and there was no place on Earth where she could hide.

“You ever, and I mean ever, come near her again; I will tear out your spine and make you choke on it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

Dexter didn’t say anything else; he simply walked off, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had a lot to think about.

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 4.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes)

Warnings for this part: smut

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

The cloak wrapped around you felt like velvet. The softness between your fingers calmed you down significantly. Reynolds grabbed your hand after the fifth time you balled it up in your skirts. You looked up to see your three valets trying to hide the concern on their faces. You could have an incident or get caught or both. None of those three options were ideal or even good. 

“Do I look decent?” you asked as the carriage got closer and closer to the party. 

“You look perfect.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t wear the mask?” 

“You don’t have to but keep it on you.” 

You agreed, exiting the carriage with a letter from the princess version of you — complete with a wax seal — that was basically a pass to enter any establishment no matter what. Spotting Penelope and Colin out of the corner of your eye, you breathed out a sigh of relief and ran over to them. Both of them wore wide smiles at your surprise arrival. They had been expecting a letter or something to signal your arrival back from Ireland. 

You were sad to hear about Marina not joining you all for this evening. It would have been nice to know her more than a little bit in between the courting of suitors. But there would be more times to meet and catch up later. Plus, hearing your friends’ stories of their daily lives proved to be a good enough distraction. You let them go after a while so Colin could escort Penelope to the dance floor like he promised to do after a run in with Cressida Cowper. 

Looking around, you failed to immediately locate the rest of the Bridgerton children. You grabbed a drink from the lemonade table and began to wander. The alcohol had looked appealing but you had never drank, afraid of the consequences if drink mixed with your illness. Someday you’d try some but not after an episode. Never right after one. 

On the outskirts of the party, still close enough to hear the music, you ran into Benedict. He gave you a smile and the same surprised look on his face as Penelope and Colin. You leaned in closer to hear him over the deafening melodies of the orchestra. Small talk that was mainly about your fictitious trip made up the first half of your conversation. After a while, you grew comfortable with each other as if you never left. 

“The lights are beautiful,” he commented, staring at the small lantern display that a scientist presented. 

You nodded. “We have some at the palace. They add more day by day but it would be nice if all of London, maybe all of the world, had these little lights. How has your art been?” 

“Not terribly well. Nothing seems to be good enough.” 

“Well, what are you drawing?” 

“Still life. I can’t expect my free drawings to be good if I can’t depict what is right in front of me.” 

“You are too hard on yourself, Benedict seriously,” you argued when he scoffed. “Sometimes we have a problem seeing our own greatness. You ju—” 

“Would you ever consider marriage to someone, me, perhaps?” 

You choked on your lemonade. “Pardon?” 

“Apologies.” He finally turned to look at you. “With Daphne out in society, people have started looking at Anthony and because my dear brother does not care to at least pretend to be a proper viscount, they have started to look at me. Ravenous mamas are eyeing me and it must be a matter of time before they talk to me.” 

You laughed. “You still call me Miss Beckett yet you want me to help you through a marriage?” 

“Wait, what is your name, actually? If you are to continue being a friend of the family then I am at liberty to refer to you by first name.” 

“Bergamot. My parents were a bit too keen on gardens. My second name is Sophie.” 

“Bergamot Sophie Beckett. That is a lovely name.” 

“Thank you… I still won’t marry you.”

Benedict scrunched up his face as he bent over to try and plead with you. “Please! I can’t be out here with the wolves.” 

You patted him on the shoulder. “Your whining, no matter how pathetic and cute, will not work. I will see you tomorrow, alright.” 

He muttered something that you didn’t hear while you took off into the gardens for a stroll. You’d have to leave soon, pressing your luck wasn’t the way to go. You put your cloak back on and closed it to hide your dress completely as you finally put your mask on. The gardens at night were very beautiful. Perhaps because you were alone. 

You chuckled at the thought of your interaction with Benedict. Even if it happened only a few moments ago, it was hysterical. It was only funnier because you were sure that when you finally introduced yourself to society, you’d get even stranger proposals. Only they wouldn’t be to avoid hungry mamas. And they wouldn’t be coming from one of your friends. 

Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too upset with you. Hyacinth would never but she was more like a little sister than a friend. Benedict would think the whole situation is funny, hopefully. Daphne might as well. Eloise and Penelope could go either way. Anthony would probably be mad that you let him attempt to woo the princess when you knew the truth which would make Colin and Gregory and Francesca mad at you as well. But maybe it would be fine after you explained everything. 

The sound of voices caught your attention. Spying was wrong but you couldn’t help yourself. You started to walk into the hedges, ignoring the twigs catching everywhere. The view wasn’t the best but you could see well enough. What could be a scandal between Daphne Bridgerton and Nigel Berbrooke seemed to be a very different scene to you because you knew the man from her letters. You tightened the mask around you just in case you needed to leave the bushes. 

Nigel kept coming close to Daphne. You began to run when he grabbed her, thinking of how to protect your friend. You’d have to hit him. That was the only option. There was nothing else you could do about it… You paused as Daphne pulled her hand back. There was Nigel Berbrooke on the ground. After being punched. 

You and Daphne looked up from Nigel to see the Duke of Hastings running into the garden clearing as well. The two of them seemed to realize that you were the princess and you were in the garden with them having witnessed everything. They bowed to you deeply, something you returned. 

“I will survey the area. If I do not return then you two may safely leave the garden.” 

“Thank you, Your Highness.” 

“It is no trouble really. I am so sorry for your distress, Miss Bridgerton, and I do hope your hand feels better in the morning.”  

You did a thorough check of the area to make sure that Daphne wasn’t compromised before fleeing to your carriage before anyone could spot the mask. Assuring your valets nothing went wrong, you closed the carriage door and let it drive back to Kew. 

“Thank you,” you said as you took off your mask and cloak and opened the carriage window since it was night. 

“For what?” 

“For making me go out tonight. I did need it. I feel better, immensely.” 

“That is good. We are glad to hear it. Will you be going out again tomorrow?” 

“Just to the Bridgertons.” 

“Oh, to home then.” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue because they were right. Being at the Bridgertons felt like home more than your own at times. Maybe because your mother and father were the only ones who even tried to be a proper family. But there was no trying with the Bridgertons. They just were family. 

That much was true when you walked into the house a lot later than the early morning to see everyone but Eloise in the drawing room, talking about Daphne and the Duke. You said hello, greeted by hugs from everyone who didn’t see you yesterday. You took the plate of toast from Violet, who was trying to get her daughter to eat, and shoved the bread under Daphne’s nose. She took a bite before actually grabbing it from you. Relieved of your mother bird duties, you plopped down on the couch in between Benedict and Colin. 

“What are your plans for today?” 

“Fencing and then a gentlemen’s club and then preparing for a party tomorrow and, dreadfully, a picnic the next day,” Colin said as he handed you a chocolate from the box on the side table. 

“May I watch?” 

“Of course, Sophie. A beautiful lady will only encourage us.” 

“Since when did you learn to be a flirt?” 

He just shrugged, sitting back to listen to Daphne play the pianoforte and tease her about the duke. You clapped at the end of her piece and requested a second one that she obliged. Daphne would have to play at the palace some time or at least at Kew. She sounded lovely. Closing your eyes, you just listened for a moment. 

“How does a lady come to be with child?” 

Your eyes flew open to see Eloise standing in front of everyone. Violet jumped up from her brief moment of sitting on the couch across from you. 

“Eloise, what a question!” 

“I thought marriage was a requirement.” 

Daphne tilted her head. “What?” 

“Apparently, it’s not even a requirement.” 

“Eloise.” 

“Mama, the princess did say all young women nearing their debut should learn.” 

Violet stuttered as she took the tray of food out of the room, forcing Hyacinth and Gregory to go with her, stating she’d be back in a moment she just needed some water. She turned back for a moment. 

“Daphne, dear, do go on. I’d like to hear some calming music when we return.” 

Eloise trudged over to the couch, sitting on the other side of Benedict. She smacked her brothers’ knees but neither one of them wanted to answer her directly. Colin turned his head. 

“Have you ever visited a farm, El?” 

You laughed as Benedict smacked the back of Colin’s head but stopped when Eloise slumped down in her seat. You tapped her on the shoulder, making her perk up again. Your hand rested on Benedict’s thigh so you could prop yourself up as you leaned over him.

Covering your mouth and Eloise’s ear, you began whispering to your friend everything you thought she needed to know about sex. Unable to help himself, Benedict leaned in to spy, surprised that your information was actually correct. You weren’t lying, the Princess’ court really taught all the valets everything. Eloise sat back, finally satisfied and a lot less worried about a spontaneous pregnancy. Until she became curious again. 

“But why would anyone want to initiate it? Who wants to be with child?” 

You leaned over once again. “No one wants to be with child. Even those who want children. It’s about the pleasure. Sometimes the pleasure of actually liking someone and other times the pleasure being about nothing but you.” 

“What?” 

“The… think about when you start breathing a bit heavier, feeling warm when you touch each other, a… I’ll tell you the rest when your brothers aren’t here. It is a bit awkward. Oh, I’ll even draw you pictures. Only a certain amount of posit— mov— steps are important. The rest you should figure out with your husband.” 

“So you do truly know what you’re talking about?” Benedict interrupted the nearly finished meeting. 

“Did you doubt me?” 

“A bit,” he admitted. 

You sat back down. “Men aren’t the only ones that know what they are talking about.” 

“Sorry to offend.” 

“No offense. None at all. I expect even the kindest and smartest and prudest of men to think such things.” 

“Well, I am still sorry. If not because of offense then because of my ignorance.”

You squeezed his thigh in appreciation. Benedict laid his hand on top of yours. The two of you stayed like that for a moment until his hand held onto yours a bit tighter. He turned to look at you. There was an understanding shared between your eyes. There was no breathing heavy or loving eyes. It was for both of you but in purely selfish pleasurable ways. 

“Sophie, are you coming to watch our fencing match?” Benedict asked.

“Yes.” At that he moved your hand closer to his private. “A bit after the calling hour starts. I like to watch the men make fools of themselves.” 

“I am not surprised by that at all. Shall we wait for you?” 

You closed the gap and placed your hand over the top of Benedict’s pants. “No. You may start without me and I’ll just come when I find the time.” 

“Okay. We’ll play again soon, maybe even another game today. So don’t be too bothered if you miss us playing for your calling hour.” 

Giving an experimental squeeze, you watched the man next to you nod ever so slightly and swallow his spit before moving your hand himself. You both relaxed into the couch completely, satisfied with your understanding. The two men left when Violet came back — it was fairly obvious that calling hour was about to start. The calling hour was several hours but at some point you had just dropped the s and you weren’t sure why. 

You thought it would be only one or two men but the duke seemed to have lit a fire under the other men’s feet. The line became rather long rather quickly. You were happy for Daphne. The more men the better. Maybe she could get a love match.

You took the last bouquet of flowers for Daphne, thanked Lord Colfield, and went to go put the flowers in a vase on the fireplace mantle. You were about to tell Daphne that you were leaving to see her brothers’ fencing match when Anthony came storming in. A gasp escaped you when Nigel Berbrooke came up behind. You were completely over this little man and his obsession. 

Without thinking, you approached Anthony. “What do you think you ar— Anthony, you and Nigel need to either leave the drawing room as this is your sister’s calling hour or wait in line if he is here to call? These lords and gentlemen have waited a great deal to talk to her and they are very patient. It is not right nor just nor of any class to disrespect the patience they have shown.” 

“Nigel?” Berbrooke scoffed. “Who do think yo—” 

“The Young Princess’ valet. She’s become a family friend,” Anthony cut Nigel off. 

At least Berbrooke had the decency to be surprised and then give you a bow. Their tunes towards you changed completely as they almost looked like they were going to wait their turn or just leave. Nigel smiled. 

“Callers were unexpected as we have already been talking extensively.” 

“Lord Berbrooke is the only man who proposed and therefore the only person I consider.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” You looked at Anthony.

“He is the on—” 

“Everyone! I am very sorry but you must leave. Miss Bridgerton’s calling hour is currently closed. Please leave your name with Heroldt, starting with the order you have been waiting, and two days from now we will continue.” You turned to Anthony as everyone filed out without complaint since they thought the princess was the reason for calling hour being over. “There. Now, Lord Berbrooke, I must speak with the Bridgertons alone. I hope that speech staved off the wolves for you if only for two days while matters are discussed.” 

“Thank you, Lady…” 

“Miss Beckett,” Anthony answered. “Thank you, Sophie. Lord Berbrooke, do you need me to escort you?” 

“No, no. You have business. I can find the front door on my own.” 

The moment he left, you, Daphne, and Violet descended on Anthony. Every word that came out of Anthony’s mouth made you scoff. Violet looked between all three of you, very upset. Anthony was ruining both Daphne’s prospects as well as his own prospects with the princess. And you were there to witness it all.

You backed Daphne on everything. Even if she was wrong, Nigel was a foul man that you would never allow to marry. You approached Anthony, speaking lowly although your friend and her mother could still hear it. 

“I hope you survive whatever poison you are drinking. Whether the Duke is a serious man or not, there are plenty of serious men here. You will not sign away your sister to such a foul man that you barely know as well and pretend it is in her best interest. And you will not expect her to be understanding or appreciative when you don’t care an ounce for your sister’s happiness. And you still wish to draw up a marriage contract? Please, just think for a moment… Good day, Viscount Bridgerton.” 

You stormed out of the drawing room and straight into the backyard where Colin and Benedict were handing their fencing gear back to a servant. They noticed the furrow in your brow. Benedict clicked his tongue. 

“I will find out what is wrong. You, brother, instruct the kitchen to leave something out for us. If there is crying then we will be long.” 

Benedict practically dragged you to the far side of the backyard. He knew no one would think anything of it when you were very angry about something Anthony did — that part was loud enough for everyone to hear. He looked at you when the two of you finally stopped. 

“Was that a ploy to get away? Or are you genuinely mad at my brother?” 

“I don’t want to talk about why I’m mad at Anthony. There’s nothing you can do anyway. Not without a good scandal… Sorry, I came out here for a fencing match. Let us focus on it. On you.” 

He took your hand again, placing it over his trousers. You began to rub it back and forth, the fabric between you guys creating friction. You reached into his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it a bit more freely. Benedict pulled you closer. His hand reached around your ass to squeeze it.

Every time you stroked him closer to finishing he would squeeze harder than before. You watched his face the entire time. If you got back exactly what you were giving him then you would be a very happy woman. It was truly going to be about selfish pleasure for both of you. 

You gasped when he all but ripped the top part of the dress as he tried to push it all down to expose your breasts. He wanted something else to stare at that would get him off even quicker. You tried to stifle any moans threatening to escape your lips as he groped you — some of the marks so hard you were sure they would be a bit red until tomorrow. This was his turn. Yours would be later. If you both tried to get pleasure at the same time... Well, that's how people fall in love. The two of you weren't stupid to test that.

Benedict moaned and for a moment both of you were worried someone would come see what was the matter. He laughed underneath your hand covering his mouth. 

A shudder went through him and he grabbed your wrist. “I’m going to come. I-if you let g-go… just in m-my britches.” 

You dropped to your knees, shocking your friend. He grabbed your head with one hand while he bit down on the other until he finished. A very gentle touch lifted you up. He wiped stray bits of lipstick from around your mouth, wiping the evidence away on the inside of his vest. 

“I have to say I did not expect you to sit down for the last round of fencing. We were done anyway.” 

“Well, I wanted to help put up the equipment so we could all relax later. Plus, if the princess does choose to invite you all to Kew then I would like you to help put up the equipment there too.” 

Benedict laughed. 

“I promise whether I win or lose. The next time we have a round of fencing, I will put up the equipment. All of it.”

He leaned down to whisper.

“Even if you are not a lover, I would never have you on the ground, sullying your pretty gowns and body..." He squeezed your breasts one last time before helping pull your dress back up. "with grass and dirt stains. I promise I’ll bring you your pleasure next time we are inside and alone. I will leave first and retire to my room. You stay out here and eat the sandwiches the cook left. I won’t be able to return for at least an hour.” 

“Okay. I have to go see the Featheringtons and Miss Thompson anyway.” 

You did just as Benedict suggested and no one even gave you a suspicious look. You took your own sweet time going across the street. You had moved the physician and all of Wednesdays special tutors to Tuesdays so you would have more time in the city. Despite not wanting any visitors, you were the obvious exception and could go upstairs to see Marina. She looked up from her writing desk when Penelope announced she was coming with a visitor. 

The three of you gathered on the bed to share a plate of sweets. You mainly listened to Marina and Penelope, not having much to add. You wanted to figure out a way to help her. Trying to meddle in daily affairs and save the lives of one subject at a time seemed almost ridiculous. But, that was what you should do as a royal. 

“Did you say Spain?” 

“Yes. That’s where all of George’s letters are coming from at the moment. They all say Spain.”

“If you ever need a letter to Spain or to anywhere else they send Sir George, just let me know. The princess wants to help her subjects, especially women, so give me a letter and I’ll give it to her. Whenever you need.” 

Marina flung herself at you. “Thank you. If there shall ever be a problem, I promise I will say such.” 

“Oh, the princess is going back to the palace for a few weeks because of something important so I won’t be so available for a little bit.” 

“What will she be there for?” 

“You will find out when it happens.” 

The two of them giggled. “You are so mysterious.” 

~~

You were tired after an exhausting day but a letter you received from a footman that same day made you get up. Anthony had given you a key to the front and back garden gates as well as the back door that led into the kitchen. You entered through the backyard so you could actually get inside the house without waking the entire house with your knocking. You only needed Violet and Daphne. And you had a letter to leave just in case you couldn’t wake a single person. 

Voices made you pause. You recognized Eloise and Benedict talking. Instead of going any further, you just listened. Eloise — like so many other women — wanted better for herself. It had never been a question of something you would plead to your brother… You sighed. You knew your brother. It was time to stop thinking of him as the heir. There was a reason everyone was going to support Younger Charlotte’s claim over her father. And Young Charlotte listened to you. She planned on making you her advisor. There would be no pleading. You would make better laws for women. 

You didn’t want to disturb them too much so you flung the letter at Benedict’s head. Running as fast as you could, you ignored their confused calling out for you once they recognized the letter coming from the princess. Hopefully, Benedict or Eloise would get the letter to their mother before Nigel could come back. 

Dear Dowager Viscountess, 

I am nothing but my mother’s daughter and therefore it is, in fact, my job to meddle in the lives of our precious subjects for a better and more peaceful United Kingdom. Miss Beckett has told me much of your troubles in regards to a man called Lord Nigel Berbrooke. I don’t have much information on him but I do have a request that I would ask you to aid your princess in. 

I recall an acquaintance of his. A maid. She used to work at the palace but asked for a job in the ton so she could be closer to her aging parents. I believe she was employed by a neighbor of the Berbrookes? Or a friend? Or maybe them, who knows. She was supposed to come back two years after they died but has yet to return. Nigel or one of his neighbors must know. Or perhaps, his mother, she’s very close to the maids. Knows every single one of them by name. I care terribly for this maid and would like her working back at the palace.  

Please meet with his mother. She loves crumpets with any sort of preserves or a chocolate dipping sauce. It was all she wanted when she requested a meeting with my second brother. 

That is all I have to say. I do look forward to seeing your family properly. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Kew 

P.S. Please tell Anthony that it took him long enough but I am proud he finally came to his senses. If only he can learn to listen to a woman first then he might have less problems.

You smiled to yourself as you sat in the kitchens. The staff couldn’t stop talking about Nigel Berbrooke’s bastard that he doesn’t take care of and the mother he sent away before she even gave birth. You would feel bad but you had a very personal and up-close view of the man’s real personality. The morning only got better when Brimsley and Reynolds came in with Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. It was on the front page of the pamphlets. Absolutely worth paying the two pounds per pamphlet for everyone in the Kew household. 

“Do you think he’ll ever show his face again?” 

“No,” the cook said as she handed you your breakfast. “You did a good thing for Miss Bridgerton, Your Grace.” 

“Your Grace?” 

“It is just a title we are trying out.” 

You hummed suspiciously. The cook ignored you. 

“You better pack if you don’t want to be late for the carriage coming today.” 

You nearly forgot. The reason you couldn’t hang out with the Featheringtons and the Bridgertons arrived. Your cousin Friedrich, the prince of Prussia, was coming for a visit. He agreed to marry a British girl to strengthen the alliances and prove that Prussia and Britain were still close family. It was neither a complete truth or a complete lie. The entire family was not close. But you, your cousin, your father, your mother, and your aunt were very close. 

Sneaking out wasn’t an option. You thought that much as the carriage neared Buckingham. It had been a while since you snuck out the palace — a completely different thing from simply leaving Kew. Pandora, Brimsley, or Reynolds would sneak you your letters and you would be satisfied. Besides, even though your family was coming for an indefinite amount of time, you only had to stay a week or two. 

The carriage hadn’t even stopped completely before you ran to hug your cousin. It had been years since you last saw each other. You could hear your mothers laughing in the background. They left to have tea inside while the two of you stayed out. 

Friedrich took your hand in the crook of his arm. “Come, cousin, let us take a promenade. Have you been well?” 

“I have been better. However, I am doing well.” 

“And your illness?” 

“Not better. But I haven’t had an episode that I couldn't recover from on my own.” 

“That is good. I suppose that is the best we can ask for. Especially since I have a surprise for you.” 

“A surprise?” 

“I asked Aunt Charlotte and she agreed to let the princess accompany me to events as she knows the ton better than the both of us. You have to wear your mask but it is still a good deal.” 

“It is a wonderful deal.”

“Good. The first event is a ball tonight.” 

“Tonight?! But I’m not prepared.” 

“I’ve already had everything arranged.” 

“You planned this?” 

“I figured it would do you good to get some fresh air and get out of the palace… or Kew, now.” 

“Thank you, Friedrich. Seriously, thank you.”

(part 5)

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

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PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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[rockrosethistle]

"Ted Spankoffski is so tragic" yes yes I agree with you but you know who we don't talk about enough?

The man, the myth, the legend, Ethan Green.

Everyone loves to talk about how much they love him, but you are all forgetting that he is heartbreaking.

So first of all, he loves Lex. Incredibly devoted. And you're thinking, "well obviously he loves his girlfriend?" But I am not exaggerating when I say nearly every decision this man makes is for the sake of making her happy.

He cares about her opinion of him. He cares about how she's feeling. Ethan literally has more emotional intelligence as a 19-20 year old than most grown men do. He was going to propose!

And then his relationship with Hannah. At the ripe old age of 19, Ethan steps into a fatherly role for his girlfriend's kid sister, and he fucking kills it. If he is devoted to Lex, he's protective of Hannah. He dies trying to fight off people that want to hurt her.

The first time we see him in Yellowjacket, he's trying to cheer Hannah up after her shop class accident. On Hannah's birthday, he takes her out to Pizza Pete's even though he doesn't have the money to spare. She is a priority to him. He even wears a little birthday celebration crown.

On top of that, he's a decent guy. Yes, he's not above threatening people or stealing, but his heart is always in the right place when he does it. He puts the effort into his relationship. He is shown apologizing when he fucks up and recognizing his mistakes. He saves Lex and Hannah's life's at the end of Yellowjacket.

Great, right? No. Not great. The narrative is consistently ruining his life.

He dies in Black Friday. Dies in a brutal way while being ambushed for a doll that he didn't have. He actually dies for nothing. And his very last words are "I'll get you to California, Lex. That way you don't gotta cry so much no more." Was Lex in the room? No. He was hallucinating her. Fucking devastating.

And then, his face gets worn by a dark god to torment Hannah. Hannah, one of the people he cared most about, is being toyed with by something wearing Ethan's face. You just know he's watching in the afterlife feeling utterly powerless.

There are timelines where Ethan and Lex accept larger jail sentences so that Hannah isn't left alone. He is not related to Hannah, or Lex. He has no real obligation to do that. He chooses to, for Hannah's sake. And has to spend years in jail.

In Yellowjacket, after all they've been through, after he bought the damn ring, the girls just leave him behind. He gets broken up with via a note while they escape to California. And you know it's for the better, you know it's for his own safety, but it still hurts.

There was even supposed to be a Nightmare Time episode where he comes back from the dead Pet-Cemetery style, murders Hannah, and then is tortured for eternity?? But then the Langs were like "No, actually, everyone would hate this." and thank God because Ethan does not need that on his plate.

Look at this. "We caught you a poki-man." He's too good I miss him so much.

This poor guy does nothing wrong and is constantly being punished. I need in my bones to have a universe where he marries Lex and they get custody of Hannah.

[kjhbsies]

Preview: The Disaster Zone

Roomate!Abby Anderson x reader

Synopsis: Living with the hottest girl wasn't that bad, right? Except that she was completely straight and has a boyfriend you hate.

note: if you want to be tagged in this fanfic, please let me know in the comments down below!

full fic

Sweat prickled from your forehead, trickling down your face, and across your neck and you almost yelled in frustration at the feeling of getting overstimulated over everything. You sighed irritatingly, trudging your way outside of the apartment you just viewed. 

One week before the class starts and you still haven’t got a place to live and stressful is such an understatement to say. No, it’s much more than that. You never thought that finding a decent place to stay for two semesters wasn’t hard but no — it was like searching for a needle in a haystack, and the needle was just a reasonably priced apartment with no angry roommates. 

You grumbled, laying your head on the couch of your bedroom. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through the listings of the apartments available, feeling the stress building with each rejected option. 

But to your luck, you stumbled upon someone’s ad. It was a nice, cozy place that was perfect in size for two people. Her name was Abby Anderson, her last name was quite familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint where you heard it. Her place looked promising enough, and the reason she was finding a roommate was that she couldn’t pay all the house bills by herself. Under that, there was a deadline — which was supposed to be today, so you mindlessly hit the ‘call’ button with no second thought.

“Hello?” Abby’s voice came through the other line, her voice was deep and businesslike.

“Hey, uh, I saw your ad for the apartment,” You replied while nibbling through your fingertips.

“Oh, great. Are you interested in visiting it?” She asked, her tone was still cool and detached.

“Yes, please, I need it so bad.” You bit your lips while nervousness came through.

“Alright. Let’s set up a time, then. Are you free this afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ll send you the address.” She said before hanging up quickly.

You stared at your phone for a minute, finding the interaction a bit… awkward. A sense of relief washed over you as the thought of finally finding a place to stay for the whole academic year was done, but something about Abby made you feel anxious. Her coldness scared you for a second — even if you just talked to her for a couple of minutes. 

But no, you promised yourself that this was the last time you’d reject a place because of a bad roommate. So you don’t have a choice but to go. 

Arriving at the address, you knocked at the door thrice. Seconds later, you saw the Abby Anderson. You gulped, taking in her features. She was tall, stoic, and… unimpressed. She was wearing a simple black shirt that perfectly hugged her toned body, making you gawk mentally. Her eyes bore into yours, looking at you from head to toe. Something inside Abby’s mind twitched as she did not expect how good you looked. But she immediately strayed away from that thought, minding no attention to it. 

“Thanks for coming. I apologize for my appearance — I just got off the gym.” She says in a neutral voice, opening the door wide open. “Come on in.” 

“It’s fine.” You said before stepping inside. 

The apartment was bigger than you expected — much bigger than the photos she uploaded. The furniture was complete and the choice of its design was very intricate and extravagant — you wondered if she bought it all with her money. Maybe she spent her money buying decorations which is why she couldn’t pay the house bills.

The huge windows perfectly let the sunlight in, casting a warm glow through the whole place. You admired how neat it was, and how everything was in place. Not even a small piece of trash in sight. As Abby showed you around, pointing out every amenities and quirks of this place, you couldn’t help but admire her silently. 

“So what do you think?” She looked back at you suddenly, making you snap out of a trance.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, I like it.” You shot her a smile. “This was much better than all of the places I’ve checked.”

Abby nodded, taking your answer without further comment or questions. I looked away, feeling nervous at the closeness between you two. With the whole three hours of you and her in just an enclosed space, Abby did not look at you. Something about your presence makes her uncomfortable and she did not know what that is. 

But then she looked at you for the second time, taking a couple of minutes to stare at your features without you knowing. Abby did not know why it was so hard for her to accept that you were pretty. No, you were something more than that. And she did not know what that was, or what was doing to her that was making her heart churn.

“Damn it,” Abby looked away and cursed under her breath.

You snapped your neck to stare at her. “What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing. It seems like you are interested. Are you open to discussing the other details?” She said, gesturing at the couch.

And just like that, the deal was done. 

And oh, that was one month ago. 

You and Abby are still living with each other. But all of your admiration for her was over.

She has a whole-ass boyfriend. 

And she’s straight as hell.

Now, you hate each other to the core. 

[sgiandubh]

When Cait married Tony she said they would honeymoon in Italy when it, meaning OL, was over. Good way to get it paid for by OL related appearance next March. Too bad she has to put up with Sam for a couple of hours. Sam, who said many times how he hated S2 costumes and was teased much by Meril, because he didn't like the feminine look. Too much like his true nature. He will certainly bring one of his prostitutes over past 3 years, Ashley being the latest, if her unnecessary week in UK last week for for anything else. 4 trips to Scotland for her in a year. It's clear which business she's really in.

Dear Business She Is Really In Anon,

I think you should be ashamed of yourself, for writing plain libel with no other arguments than your own twisted, bitter and irrelevant world view. If you consider that Ashley Hearn is a prostitute, just because she traveled four times to Scotland since late May 2024, then you are nothing more than a sad, sad troll, who thinks thousands of other women who happen to work in the marketing and sales sectors, all over the world, are also whores, right? You know very well all her trips have been more than thoroughly documented and you also know they did have a tangible impact, as far as that company is concerned. You should also get your fucking timeline straight before you treat us to your word vomit, because even the hatred you gratuitously spread around must have, technically speaking, at least some modicum of plausibility. She did not start to work for SS one year ago, punk: she started to work for them on May 21st 2024, which is exactly six months.

When C married McGill there is no way for you to tell what she said. You weren't there, you are a damn Social Zero and you just rely on word-of-mouth and ridiculously contradictory press releases and interviews. A honeymoon takes a week-end perhaps only in your shanty town and making the ball's organizers 'pay for it' is beyond ridiculous, including as far as C herself might be concerned (what is she, a cheap profiteer?) - supposing that 'relationship' would be anything more than a mutually convenient arrangement of sorts, of course. Sorry, but not the case.

Yeah, too bad she had to put up with S, against all odds, for eleven years, now. This is what really wrecks your pea brain, right? That, and being proven wrong and embarrassingly dumb, over and over again.

For your next endeavor, I suggest you'd turn your attention to your homeland telenovelas (you misspelled Maril Davis' name like a Brazilian and that is a dead giveaway).

Talvez Escrava Isaura seja uma substituição decente e mais acessível? Há reviravoltas baratas (gaslighting, veneno, delírio) o suficiente para mantê-la ocupada por um bom tempo.

You may wonder why I still answer your tragically ridiculous comments? Well, because it is time for someone to shame you and also show the true, dull and derisory colors of your stupid monomania.

[Later edit]: in no way did I want to imply anything negative about Brazil or its culture. I could have definitely better used one of the bajillion other Globo productions, dealing with Carioca intrigue and/or football wives. If I haven't, it is just because Escrava Isaura was a huge international success even in the Nineties, and remembered as such by many. While I am sensitive to the social and political inacceptable problem of slavery, I maintain that the 1976 adaptation of Guimarães's novel is simplistic and formulaic enough, hence more appropriate for Anon. I am sorry if my poor joke was construed differently and I apologize to all the people who might be offended. If you know me, you'd also know I am probably the last person to disrespect your country and culture.

[bumblequinn]

on a more personal note: death grips were and are a pretty major source of inspiration for my own music. not in the sense of "i like this sound so i'm going to ape it," but in the sense of "oh i can get this weird with it if i really want to."

a decent chunk of the music in SLARPG would have been a lot more restrained and self-conscious if it weren't all the death gripses out there. sophie, knower, joanna wang, wednesday campanella, KKB, lemon demon... these artists and countless others helped to show me that it's okay and even extremely cool to get weird with it.

i'm reminded of this comment on one of my tracks in particular:

and look, part of me thinks this is more or less harmless, right? i even pinned it, because it made me chuckle. it's all in good fun! (seriously, don't go causing any trouble over a comment like this. i do not condone that kind of harassment.)

and yet - if i stop to think about it a second longer, i start to ask: what is this kind of joke really saying? "this sucks." "turn that shit off." and... i dunno, that feels bad, you know? i was bouncing in my seat grooving to that track when i was making it. i like what i made. that's why i made it.

every time i make music, i'm making something i want to hear but that doesn't exist yet. i'm incredibly, stupidly lucky that i get to do that, and that other people connect with it. but when the end result of that effort is a "joke" like "this is so weird omg, put something normal on," well...

even as a joke that's enough to make me second guess myself the next time i make music. it's enough to make me change the preview track for the album to something a bit tamer so i don't "scare off" first-time listeners. that feels like capitulating, and capitulating is the opposite of authentic self expression.

i have much, much weirder, more difficult and challenging ideas that i have yet to explore and put out there because i already feel like enough of a pariah just as a trans woman in the world.

i'd like to find the inner courage and esteem to create that art without softening its edges, trying to appease, or apologizing for myself. i think i'll get there. i'm already closer than i used to be. but seeing more people respect weird art, rather than quip about about its strangeness, would be a start. a girl can dream.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for Getting Someone Evicted?

So I recently became friends with a group of people. There's a larger friend group, and a smaller sort of subset friend group that all lives in the same kind of communal house. I'm becoming friends with all of them, but I've become FWBs with the guy who owns the house, so just by the nature of having frequent sex with him I'm much closer to him.

The people involved are my partner, and two other men who live in his house. I'll call the partner Tom, and the two other guys Jake and Alex.

I'm friends with Jake, and Jake is friends with Alex, but honestly I absolute despise Alex. He's one of the most irritating AHs I've ever met. So I don't know if this is biasing me.

What happened:

I was sitting down drawing a few feet from them. Alex was sitting down taking Jakes measurements. This required Jake to kneel with his back to Alex. As guys do, they were making half a million sexual jokes about the situation. Then something happened that I think crossed a massive line.

Jake: (obviously playful/joking) "oooh choke me daddy!"

Alex then put both hands wrapped around the sides of Jakes neck and applied pressure. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to feel. (I am telling the story with info I later learned from Jake)

Jake (firmly): "hey don't actually do that, that's a massive trigger for me".

Alex then removed his hands from physically touching Jakes neck, but kept them hovering a few inches from his neck.

Alex (laughing): "good trigger or bad trigger?"

Jake: "bad trigger. Don't do that"

They then went back to fucking around and taking measurements. Jake says Alex apologized later but I didn't hear it so I don't know what was actually said.

I at first kind of brushed it off, since Jake handled it and seemed fine, but the day after it kinda hit that oh shit, I watched someone just grab someone else's neck as a "joke", this is real fuckin bad. So I told Tom I needed to talk to him about something, laid it all out, told him he needed to talk to Jake and make sure he was okay, and told him I no longer saw Alex as a safe person to be around. I would have liked to go to Jake first, but just bc of schedules I have recently not been able to see/talk to him at all, and that didn't seem like a text convo.

I think this was the log that broke the camels back, and Tom is now kicking Alex out. He'll have a couple months at least, but he's got terrible credit and rental history, and with the housing market where I live, I'm not sure what he's going to do/where he's going to go. Tom was also one of the people convincing everyone else to not just cut Alex off (he's done some slimy shit before this) so it's likely he may lose a decent chunk of his friend group.

Ultimately it was Toms call, but I'm questioning whether I was right to go directly to him about an issue that didn't involve me, and say i did not feel safe around Alex with so little evidence. It almost feels like I'm throwing my weight around as Toms partner, since he obviously wants me to keep coming around (and fucking him)

AITA?