#play Rainbow Riches

[the-original-skipps]

|| Yandere?Pirate!Aventurine x Captive!Reader Headcanons || Honkai Star Rail ||

ya'll how could I resist writing about this gorgeous man? ask box is open for simping for this man. also this isn’t rainbows and sunshine so I ask you to proceed with caution if not scroll away

CW: violence. evil doings (they’re pirates obv). slight sexual content. mentions of forced capivity. slight mentions of starvation. major yandereness.

pirate!aventurine who caught you trying to stow away on his ship. When he caught you, you thought he would have you killed but what he did next surprised you. He proposed a gamble for you to aim a gun towards him and if you managed to hit him, you'd go free and get his riches as a bonus. However, if you miss you'd become his servant. You thought he was insane because if he gets hit, he'd die. However, he did not give you much of a choice to refuse as he'd have you killed if you did.

pirate!aventurine who managed to win the gamble as the gun you fired missed its mark. You were reluctant but you tried your best to win, it was either him or you after all. Regardless, despite your denial, you lost fair and square - from then on you were his captive servant. 

pirate!aventurine who as soon as he won you, makes you wear a beautiful jeweled necklace resembling the colors of his eyes. As a symbol of ownership. Going as far to order you to never try to hide it or take it off. When in thought he tends to unconsciously play with the jewels, smiling to himself.

pirate!aventurine orders you to personally bring his food everyday - breakfast, lunch and dinner. On some days he's feeling playful - he'd force you to feed him. Always making sure to have you take the first bite in case you tried to poison him. He would even purposely deny you food on some days until you have no choice but to accept him feeding you.

pirate!aventurine has you sit on his lap while he works. Whether it be finding his next treasure location, a new town to raid and so on. He'd always have you on his lap, despite your deep reluctance and annoyance. Aventurine would have his arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he reads or goes through any documents. He'd even ask for your opinion at times. Though when he's feeling mischievous, he'd let his hand rest on your thigh. Slowly hiking your dress up as he delights in your shivers as his hand caresses your bare skin - higher and higher.

pirate!aventurine who always has you follow him around as he attends to his duties on the ship. He constantly looks behind to make sure you're actually following and that you're not a step behind. He also likes to have a hand on your waist making you stand beside him as he talks to his crew. He likes showing you off to his crew - though make no mistake if they even eye you with the slightest hint of hunger. He'll make them wish they still had eyes.

pirate!aventurine likes to dress you up in the finest clothes. Since you refuse to wear dresses he stole from raiding a town, he opts to buy them instead. With his vast amount of riches, he has no trouble buying you multiple fancy dresses for you to wear. All in which he personally picks out. Forcing you to model each and every one of them - as he sits on his throne with a cup of wine in his hand. His eyes are feasting on your figure, especially where your skin is visible.

pirate!aventurine who likes to tease and rile you up because it's amusing to him. He’d even purposely leave a knife out in the open hoping you’d be brave enough to try and stab him. Which always fails as he easily subdues you, he just wants an excuse to punish you. Though he doesn’t dislike your resistance, makes it all the more fun for him to break you.

pirate!aventurine who forces you to watch him as he gets intimate with another woman or man. He deliberately looks your way to gauge your reaction, to see whether you feel disgusted or possibly even aroused. He could force you, but he much prefers to make you come to him on your own. He has all the time in the world, eventually you’d cave.

pirate!aventurine brings you around town when the ship docks. He knows you’re sick of being on the ship all the time. He likes to take you to hit up the town’s tavern for a good gamble. He’ll have you sitting on his laps as usual all dolled up, almost as an accessory to him. Not afraid to make you the prize to his opponents to up the stakes. He delights in the pleasure of seeing you panic, secretly hoping you’d cheer him on. However, try as they might they wouldn’t be able to win - he’ll make sure of it.

pirate!aventurine lets you roam the ship as you please. He doesn’t restrain you with chains and shackles. The countless eyes on this ship are already watching your every move. You’re free to entertain the idea of escaping, he welcomes it even. Because, ultimately he knows you’d never be able to escape even if you tried. 

“I gave you a chance at freedom, yet you blew it away! So don’t think I’m forcing you, you willingly agreed to this gamble yourself. So uphold your end of the bargain.”

lemme know if you guys want more!

[hazard-symbols-that-fuck-hard]

Okay time for the PBS Kids essay

Read it under the cut!

:readmore:

In 1968, before there was PBS Kids proper, there was Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. While it came several decades before the children’s block, it laid the foundation for the themes and values present in every facet of the network’s history.

Mr. Roger famously hated children’s programming at the time. To him, it all was droll and useless. But he didn’t dissuade the medium entirely— he saw potential. Potential that led to a few smaller television jobs, and eventually the creation of Mr. Roger’s neighborhood.

Rogers didn’t invent educational TV for children, but he did perfect it. He poured real heart and soul into probably the most sincere, heartfelt program in history.

Honestly, he could have his own essay. The more things you learn about the real man of Mr. Rogers, the more you’ll like him.

Anyway, the biggest thing that makes PBS different is the fact that it earns money through grants, fundraisers, and private donors— not through sponsorships and merchandise sales. This way, PBS Kids can push programming that it feels is important, rather than programming that merely sells well.

This also means PBS is less afraid of pushing social boundaries. Money doesn’t go away when their shows become subjects of debate— and Mr. Rogers took full advantage of this.

For context, this was 1969. The Jim Crow era had just barely, barely ended. Pool segregation was still very much legal.

Mr. Rogers sharing a pool and a towel with the Black Mr. Clemmons was a pretty big deal at the time— especially on a show made for children.

Rogers was far from the untouchable sacred cow of today. When he was alive, he had a large number of detractors. Let’s just say that scene didn’t fly nicely by everyone.

Just one year after the debut of Mr. Roger’s came Sesame Street.

While Mr. Roger’s was made for all children, Sesame Street had the explicit goal of supplementing the education of underserved communities— especially inner-city Black (and later Latino) children.

While it was made to be accessible to children of all races and income levels, they definitely went the extra mile to make it something special for inner-city Black and Brown kids. (Why do you think it it’s “Sesame Street” and not “Sesame Cul-de-Sac”?)

At the time, a wholesome, sweet show set in a brownstone street was practically unheard of.

Jon Stone, the casting director, deliberately sought to make the cast as rich with color as he possibly could, bringing on a huge amount of Black talent such as Loretta Long, Matt Robinson, and Kevin Clash, as well as featuring Black celebrities as guest stars. Later, the show would expand its horizons, bringing on actors from Latino, Asian, Native American, and many more backgrounds.

White actors were and still are a minority on show.

In addition to letters and numbers, the purpose of Sesame Street is clear: make kids of color know that they’re smart, beautiful, and loved.

It doesn’t get more explicit than this.

I want to point out this comment because it’s funny

You’re telling me this bitch isn’t Hispanic???

Anyway, these two were followed up by Reading Rainbow in 1983. And guess what?

That’s right. Non-white focus.

These three shows, (along with other, lesser-known programs like Lamb-Chops Play Along, Newton’s Apple, and Shining Times Station (who featured Ringo Starr himself?? seriously how did that happen and why does no one talk about it) and some other nostalgic favorites like Bill Nye the Science guy, The Magic Schoolbus, Arthur, and Thomas the Tank Engine) aired on the new PTV block, which evolved into PBS Kids in 1999, bringing along Between the Lions, Dragon Tales, and many more.

Arthur is another stand-out that I’d like to talk about— it doesn’t have the same racial focus of Sesame Street, but it does focus on different income levels. The characters have various housing situations, from apartments to mansions to no home at all.

It also takes cues from Sesame Street and Mr. Roger’s in regards to talking about tough topics, though as Arthur has a slightly older target audience, it discusses things through stories rather than talking directly to the audience.

Cancer, religion, workplace discrimination, along with current (at the time) events such as 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina are all discussed on the show.

Another big focus on Arthur is disability. For once, they don’t stick a character in a wheelchair and then pretend he’s not in a wheelchair. A striking number of major characters either develop or get diagnosed with physical disabilities and/or neurodivergences, such as asthma, severe food allergies, and dyslexia, and they deal with them in very realistic ways.

A handful of minor characters have more obvious disabilities, and THANK GOD they go beyond the trite messaging of “disabled people can do everything abled people can do! everyone clap now!”

One episode in particular has the awesome message of “holy shit stop trying to help me all the time— it’s patronizing as fuck. I can get around just fine without you stepping on eggshells and trying to be the hero all the fucking time”

There are sooo many other shows I could talk about, but I can’t write about them all. I’m definitely gonna point out some more standout ones, though.

Sagwa, the Chinese Siamese Cat

Created by Chinese-American woman Amy Tang

Dragonfly TV

Features a multitude of female and non-white scientists to foster an interest in science with kids in those groups

Maya & Miguel

One of the network’s first Hispanic-led shows

SciGirls

I shouldn’t have to explain what the goal of this one was.

Molly of Denali

When was the last time you saw a show that treated Native Americans as people? Much less a children’s show? 90% of the cast is Athabascan, and the show revolves around Athabascan culture, not shying away from topics like boarding schools and modern-day racism. Most of the writers are also Athabascan, and the show even has an official Gwich’in dub!

It’s this commitment to real, authentic social justice that makes PBS Kids so much different from its competitors. Could you imagine the Paw Patrol dog looking at the camera and earnestly discussing what happened to George Floyd? I don’t think so— but Arthur talked specifically about it, Sesame Street did an hour long special about race in general, and the network itself made a 30 minute special.

Disney Jr. could never. (Other than trying to teach colorblindness, of course.)

I’m gonna have to cut this into two parts, since I just hit the image limit

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

James Stewart (It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—the thing about Jimmy Stewart is that for a weird-enough looking guy, he is yet somehow SO hot and SO believable, ALWAYS. He always plays the same person—he's always, well, Jimmy Stewart—yet that person can be a murderer, a dark cynic, a naive idealist, the boy next door or an old man who knows better, and every one of those is hot. I would jump his bones in a heartbeat

Toshiro Mifune (Rashumon, Seven Samurai, Grand Prix, Stray Dog)—i love and respect my boi tab hunter (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful man ❤️), but after i watched like 12 of his movies in a row on tcm last year, i ALSO love and respect toshiro mifune, son of a literal actual hatamoto’s (a high-ranking samurai) daughter, also very possibly related to the best judokan EVER, AND, he’s the guy who SHOULD have been obi-wan kenobi. the fact that he’s ALSO hot as hell just adds to his appeal.

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

James Stewart propaganda:

"Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly."

“Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don’t get distracted by Grant (or do, i’m submitting him next).”

“He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!”

Toshiro Mifune propaganda:

"In addition, he spoke fluent mandarin and every time he was casted in foreign films, he said his lines in the language of the movie (although they ended up dubbing him. He wasn’t happy about it though).”

Submitted: this gifset

Also submitted: this video (yes, that one)

"Crucial Toshiro Mifune propaganda: THOSE LEGS."

"That is hella muscle. Go watch The Hidden Fortress, aka Star Wars A New Hope. His thighs deserve an award."

[ckret2]

Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist. 

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky. 

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room. 

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream. 

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here." 

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it. 

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

[cleoluvrr]

strawberry shortcake (rafe cameron x reader)

got sent home to change 'cause my skirt is too short.

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, non!con, dub!con, spanking, use of belt, victim-blaming, manipulation, degradation, explicit language, depiction of explicit sexual acts

word count: 9.1k

masterlist

you and rafe were…complicated. you’d known him just as long as you’ve known his sister, and yet, you’d never had a particularly great relationship.

your father worked closely with the cameron family. he and ward met each other in college, but went their separate ways after graduation. ward returned to the outer banks after a few years of living on the mainland, slowly making a name for himself as a real estate developer. your own parents moved back to charlotte after graduating, meeting at school and getting married in their hometown. raised in the city, all of your family was there, and all your friends were there. 

one fated day, your parents decided that your entire family was going to pack up and move to the outer banks. you were eight years old at the time, so of course it felt like your entire life was falling apart. everything you ever knew was going to be miles and miles away just because your parents said so. 

it felt so sudden, so unexpected. as far as you were aware, there was no one you knew in the outer banks. your family had a beach house there that you would visit every other summer, but that was all. to you, they might as well have said that you were moving to a deserted island with zero human interaction.

the moment you arrived the summer before you started third grade, it was a complete culture shock. you were used to living in the city; busy streets, skyscrapers that kissed the clouds and lit up with the colors of the rainbow, and so many people that you’d never see them more than twice. kildare was the complete opposite. you could drive across the entire town and back in under two hours and the tallest building in town was a church. everybody knew everybody, and every person had their place.

you only found that after your parents were pulled over by a police officer while driving around figure-eight. it wasn’t too often people that looked like you drove around the “nice” side of town in a shiny, new car. not that they’d never seen it, but they knew all the people that did, and nobody in your family was one of them. you couldn’t count the number of times someone had asked if you were lost or ‘supposed to be here’ when playing around your front yard, taking a walk, or existing in any public place on figure-eight.

your parents allowed you a week to adjust before they threw you into the merciless waters of small town social politics. 

the first time you were properly introduced to the cameron family was during sunday service. you didn’t grow up going to church despite being from the bible belt, mostly because big city life didn’t revolve around it as much as it did in kildare. your parents forced you out of bed early in the morning to get ready, your mother all but stuffing you into the best sunday dress you owned. like any eight-year-old, you complained about it. you hated blue, but your parents insisted on all of your outfits being color-coordinated. the mary janes and frilly socks made you feel like a little kid, but your mom wouldn’t budge on it.

begrudgingly, you sat through an hour long sermon in a church filled with flamboyantly dressed rich people. and then you sat through another hour of brunch with the camerons and their friends, even more annoyed than you were sitting through service in the hot, old chapel.

ward and your father had kept in contact over the years, and it was a couple years before the move that the two of them became business partners. your dad became the cameron family’s lawyer, and it was easier to actually be in the same place as them rather than hundreds of miles away. your mother didn’t mind the move; in fact, she was excited. she worked as an oncologist back home, and the lack of them on the island meant there was great demand for her work.

it was there where you met sarah cameron, the girl that became your friend at first sight. she was younger than you, but at that age it really made no difference. the little blonde girl was excited to meet someone new and declared that you two would be ‘best friends forever just like your dads. though it took some warming up on your part, ever since that day, the pair of you have been attached by the hip.

rafe, however, not so much. 

“hey, sarah?” you called out to the girl standing across from you, her surprised eyes wide as they snapped towards yours after being pulled out of the conversation with her boyfriend. 

“yeah?”

“could you tell your brother to fuck off?” a smile lit up your face as the question slipped from your gloss-covered lips. “please?”

you had come over to sarah’s house a few hours ago, the girl inviting you to attend a large party that her parents planned every summer for the fourth of july. at first, you weren’t too keen on coming, but the two of you hadn’t spent much time together this summer and you felt too guilty to turn her down. this was the summer before you left her for nine months to attend college, and  even though you didn’t want to come, you did it to make her happy.

the moment you stepped foot onto the property, rafe buzzed around your ear like a common house fly with comment after comment on your appearance. 

“what’s the matter, princess?” rafe speaks up from his spot just a few feet away. his head quirks to the side, a look of faux-concern covering his face. “stick up your ass a little too big today?”

topper and kelce chuckle at the comment, attempting to hide the sound by clearing their throats when they catch the dangerous cut of your eyes. your gaze meet rafe’s again and you watch as he raises the whiteclaw to his lips, the white can covering the smirk on his face as he takes a sip.

when you first met rafe, he was nice enough–very cordial. the boy was only older than you by a a year, but he acted as if the difference was so significant that he couldn’t be seen around you. he wasn’t necessarily shy, but every boy that age was concerned with catching cooties. it was impossible to keep his distance, though, especially since your dads worked together and you were constantly over their house. you and rafe maintained a somewhat friendly relationship with each other for years–never getting as close as you and sarah, but it was amiable. 

that all changed when you got to the eighth grade.

the older boy had started his first year of high school, while you and sarah were still in middle school together. 

the difference in maturity was beginning to have an affect on your relationship with both of them. you were turning fourteen and sarah was turning twelve; it felt like you were in totally different worlds. she was starting to become more of a little sister to you than a friend, but you loved her no less than before.

rafe was only fifteen, but he was in high school now. he hung out with guys older than him, and that meant doing whatever to impress them. he had completely brushed you off as a ‘little girl,’ and acted like you were a burden to have around if you were at tannyhill while his friends were there. 

it hurt you at first. you knew the two of you weren’t close, but to be completely disregarded for people he barely knew didn’t make you feel great about yourself. 

you were naive to believe it’d be any other way.

when it was your turn to enter high school, you felt alone. sarah was still in middle school, and rafe treated you like dirt on the bottom of his shoe. it was like you had to start all over now that you didn’t have either of them to cling onto. it wasn’t hard for you to make friends, but you still felt alone without your best friend–and betrayed by her brother.

“rafe, stop! you’re being an ass.” sarah shoves her brother, eyebrows furrowed as she scolds her older silbing.

“what? it’s a joke, chill out.” rafe barely stumbles from the shove. his eyes remain on you, not even sparing his sister more than a second of a glance. “she can take a joke. right, y/n?”

“of course i can take a joke, rafe!” you tilted your head in the same manner as he did just a few moments ago. “remember that time you asked me out senior year? that was really funny.” 

a smile grazed your lips softly as you watched him freeze in place for the briefest second before regaining composure. both his friends and sarah snorted at the quip, catching onto the implication. nobody noticed the look shared between you and the oldest cameron, nor the rise in tension.

it was the summer before your junior year and rafe’s senior–two weeks before midsummers, to be exact. rafe hadn’t let up on what was the borderline bullying he’d been subjecting you to since you started high school; in fact, it had only increased that summer. you were at the cameron’s house almost everyday with sarah, and her brother didn’t spare you a moment of peace when you happened to come across each other on the property–or off of it.

rafe spotted you alone by the dock, tossing rocks into the water as you stared into the dimming light of the july sky. you knew it was him approaching because his feet were heavy against the twigs lining the ground, not light and nimble like sarah’s. 

“y/n,” he called out from behind you, towering presence warm at your back. he sounded nervous, which struck you as odd. when he spoke to you, his voice carried the weight of condescension or irritation–never the champagne bubbles of anxiety. it was obvious he was trying to disguise it, but you knew him too well for it to work. “can we talk?” 

you responded with a disinterested hum, throwing the last rock into the water before turning to face him. you expected him to say something stupid, the sole purpose of him catching you there alone to bother you until you went back to your own house.

what you were not expecting, however, was for him to confess his feelings–feelings for you. you could hear your ears ringing when he asked if you would go with him to midsummers, brain sparking up with disbelief and agitation at the sound of the words leaving his mouth.

there were no second thoughts when he was met with firm rejection. 

you weren’t sure why it caught him by surprise considering he’d been treating you like shit for three years, but he acted as if you shot him at point blank. though you never told anyone, you had a crush on him at one point as well. it began to feel more like hopeless pining after he began to treat you like an incessant fruit fly, which is why you got over it–for the most part, at least.

that’s when the mistreatment from him became a feud on both ends. you felt justified in your feelings towards him, and rafe having the audacity to be mad at you for turning him down only fueled the fire. 

the oldest cameron sibling had his own issues, ones that made him quick to anger towards everything and everyone for no reason, especially you.

“you think you’re funny, huh?” the blonde looks displeased by his friends’ reactions, jaw clenching in annoyance. he could dish it, but he couldn’t take it.

“as if you know what that is.” you raised your brows at him, a smile still covering your face. you reached out a hand towards him, palm landing gently on his broad chest in a false gesture of comfort. “its okay, rafey, not everyone is made for being funny. stick to being useless, okay? you’re amazing at that!”

shoving past the blonde, you walked in the direction of the house after telling sarah you were going to sit inside for a moment to hide from the heat. the coastal carolina humidity was taking a toll on you, and rafe’s presence was only adding to the irritation. 

you took your time walking around the house, the massive interior surrounding you on all sides. the sound of your shoes softly tapping against the ground was the only sound filling the air, the commotion of the party outside left behind the further you ventured. your feet carried you up the grand staircase gracefully, hips swaying with each step until you reached the top.

the mansion was not unfamiliar. you and sarah had run these halls together countless times over the years, no room left unexplored by the two of you–including rafe’s. 

out of curiosity, your eyes drifted in the direction of the boy’s bedroom. the door had been left wide open for anyone to walk in, and there was an invisible force pushing you to enter. it’s been years since you’ve explored it, the last time resulting in being caught by its inhabitant. memories of you and sarah snooping around his drawers flashed through your mind, rafe coming in and cursing the two of you with colorful words you’d never heard in-person before.

this time, rafe wasn’t here to stop you. he was far too occupied outside with his friends to interrupt your impulsive decision to explore his room once more.

you shuffled towards the open door of his room, head peeking into the empty space before stepping inside. the room hadn’t changed much from the last time you saw it; it was still reminiscent of a teenage boy, just much cleaner. your feet softly padded across the floor to the window on the opposite side, staring out of the window at the crowd below. 

the music was just barely audible through the thick glass, the little ants of people wandering around with cups in hand as they interacted with each other. eyes scanning the crowd, your brows furrowed together in confusion. kelce, sarah, and topper were right where you left them, but rafe was nowhere to be found the longer you searched over the attendees.

“maybe he left…” you said to yourself, shoulders raising in a weak shrugging motion.

“who?”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of the voice appearing in the background so suddenly, a scream bubbling in your throat before you turned around to meet it’s owner. the sight of rafe cameron standing in the doorway barely did anything to calm your nerves, his stern face and crossed arms only making you anxious.

“y’know–i could’ve sworn i told you to stay out of my room?” his blue eyes bored into yours, gaze unrelenting and intense as they awaited an answer for your presence. 

“what are you doing in here?” you were tempted to pinch yourself as the question slipped from between your lips. 

“this is my room,” he said pointedly. “what are you doing in here?”

you shrugged again, the nervousness that filled you moments ago dissipating the longer you faced him. the worst thing he could do is tell you to get out, there was no reason to feel anxious about his appearance. you pushed yourself off the window frame you were resting against to walk towards the door, ready to make your exit now that you’ve been caught.

“not going through your shit, if that’s what you’re worried about. i was bored–now i’m leaving.” you were at the halfway point of his room, eyes rolling nonchalantly as you brushed him off. “what are you doing?”

rafe entered the room fully, a look of mischief shining brightly from behind his eyes as your own flickered to the door that shut behind him with a soft ‘thud’. you could feel your brows pinch together ever so slightly at the sight before you met his face again.

you didn’t flinch when he began to approach you with slow, rhythmic steps. his legs were long and he could have easily made it to you in just a few but he deliberately took his time walking in your direction, each soft noise of his shoe hitting the ground spaced a second apart. 

“what for? not like you have anywhere to be,” his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his shorts and his head tilted to the side in a feigned curiosity that was clearly heard through his voice. “actually–i think we need to talk…”

the blonde stopped barely a foot in front of you. he wasn’t quite invading your personal space, just pushing against the boundary lines of it. your eye twitches involuntarily, but you say nothing.

pushing the boundaries was something rafe had been doing for a while. mentally and physically. it was part of what further pulled the string of tension between you two.

maybe it’s because he’s a guy, but there wasn’t a day you could go seeing rafe without him making comments on your body or touching you without permission. your chest, your backside, your lips, your eyes–there was nothing spared from his overtly sexual thoughts. you weren’t sure if he was doing it solely to piss you off or make you uncomfortable, but being either one did nothing to discourage him. 

in fact, it only served as motivation for him to continue.

it had been more times than you could count that rafe had groped you and claimed that his hand slipped–that you were overreacting. sometimes he wouldn’t even deny it; he’d blame you for wearing a too-short skirt or a top so small that ‘you had to have been wanting the attention or you wouldn’t have left the house like that.’ he had a habit of standing uncomfortably close to you, so close that you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back or the hair on his arms tickling your own.

you just brushed it off as him being obnoxious, slapping away wandering hands and giving quick-witted responses to the suggestive remarks. guys his age were assholes and because of how long you’d known him, you never let it bother you too much. or at least, you refused to let him know that it bothered you.

“i don’t think so, rafe.“ you eyed him suspiciously. “what could we possibly have to talk about?” your arms raised to fold across your chest, fingertips cold from the air-conditioning as they rested against your bare skin. 

if it weren’t so hot and sticky outside you would have worn pants, but the frilly, pink skirt adorning your bottom half was far too tempting to pass up in this weather. you could feel the goosebumps rising over your entire body from the coolness of the house.

rafe just stared for a moment. you could see the synapses firing behind the blue of his irises, and the sight unsettled you. the feeling of his eyes raking over your frame did nothing to shake the discomfort either.

“your attention-seeking behavior. your disrespectful attitude.” his gaze flittered back up to meet yours and you could make out the ghost of a smirk wash over his features. “it's becoming a problem, don’t ya’ think?”

“what?” that was not on the list of things you were expecting him to say. you couldn’t help the amused laugh that escaped your lips in a breath. “what the fuck are you talking about right now?” 

“what am i talking about?” his dark blonde brows come together in an expression of concern–one you were sure he was faking.

rafe’s tanned arm reached out towards you, long fingers grabbing a braid from your head and twirling the end around the digits. not abnormal behavior, but you still squinted at him anyway.

“you must be the stupid one if you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

a scoff left your mouth and your hand lifted to smack his away from your hair. your eyes nearly strained out of their sockets from the amount of restraint it took not to roll them, lids blinking away the urge that fought against them.

“bye, rafe.” your path was blocked when you tried to move around him, the tall man following your step before you could even finish making it. “move!”

he caught the hand raised to push him out of the way with ease, the strength in his grip restrained but still felt as it surrounded your wrist. every attempt to take it back into your possession failed, your opponent unrelenting.

startled, a gasp left your mouth when you were pulled forward roughly, rafe’s body pressed tightly against yours as he brought his free hand to rest on your lower back. the ghost on his face was now living, a grin widespread over his lips that showed off the whites of his teeth as he stared down at you. 

“stop touching me, you’re being a creep.” you didn’t raise your voice at him, but you were firm in your demand.

“oh, please,” he rolled his eyes at you, as if you were the one acting out of line. “i think you want me to touch you.”

the hand that rested on your back fell even lower, the entirety of his hand capturing your ass in its grasp. you inhale sharply, the roughness of his fingers squeezing down causing you to jerk forward in an attempt to escape. you were met with rafe’s warm chest trapping you between him and the hand gripping your backside through the fabric of the skirt keeping it covered.

“rafe!” you said loudly. “what the fuck is your problem?”

it’s not like he hadn’t touched you there before; he’d done it plenty. but those were only light brushes in passing or pinching you when you weren’t paying attention. things that he could pretend never happened, things that you could brush off as him being annoying.

this was not that.

“you walk around town in these itty, bitty skirts,” rafe’s smile was gone now, the mischief behind his eyes remained but it was mixed with something else–something you didn’t feel too keen about. “like you own the place–walking around my house like it’s yours. always acting like you’re better than everyone. like–like you’re above all of us. do you think you’re better than everyone, y/n?”

you shook your head at him, doing the best job you could muster at remaining calm despite the alarm bells ringing in your head. the free hand you were using to push his hand away from your ass was useless; he wasn’t budging. however, even with the little voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, you couldn’t help but to give a smart-assed reply.

“i don’t think i’m above everyone, rafe,” the corner of your lips twitched as you fought back the smile that wanted to appear. “just you.”

he chuckled at that, but not because he found it funny. it was obvious by the way his face darkened, which is what queued you into thinking that you should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

relief filled you when he released the clothed flesh of your behind from his vices, but only momentarily. your feet stumbled over each other clumsily as rafe walked forward with purpose, forcing you backwards until your the crease of your knees hit the bed. you remained standing, but if he were to push you again you’d certainly lose your balance.

the oldest cameron sibling was much…larger than you remembered. you saw him practically every day, but you couldn’t recall his biceps ever being this big as your hands held onto them to stabilize yourself. you’ve never felt intimidated when standing near him, but as you craned your neck upward, all you could feel was the fear bubbling in your stomach. faced with his towering height, he could easily overpower you if that’s what he wanted to do–and you had a feeling he did.

a chill ran down your spine.

“you come over here every day wearing practically nothing, swinging that pretty ass in my face like a fucking tease, and then treat me like you don’t know who you’re talking to.” he shakes his head in faux-disappointment, the sound of his tongue tutting against his teeth filling your ears. “i told you to stop doing it, but you refuse. if you weren’t begging for attention, you wouldn’t act like that.”

“are you being serious right now?” you were in complete disbelief. the fear in your stomach remained, but a pang of vexation was thrown into the mix. “the last thing i want is your attention, rafe. i already turned you down once–stop being weird about it. just ‘cause you can’t keep your dick in your pants doesn’t make me the problem.”

the tall blond’s eye twitched, lips raising like hackles as he all but snarled at you. 

both of his hands dropped suddenly, giving you zero time to react as he gripped the bottom of your skirt in his hands and yanked it upwards. a sound of surprise rolled out of your mouth and rafe took advantage of your shock to spin you around and push you face down onto the bed. your body barely bounced once before rafe was seated on the mattress next to you, strong arms reaching over to grab your legs and throw them over his lap haphazardly as he pinned your arms behind your back.

you felt him lean his upper body against you and apply force, preventing you from lifting yourself up off the bed and leaving you completely at his mercy. 

“rafe!” you scolded as he hiked up your skirt even higher and exposed you further. his position under you left you unable to lie flat, back arched uncomfortably with your pelvis resting on his muscled thighs. panic was beginning to fill you. “rafe, stop! what are you doing?”

he doesn’t respond, a bump silence filling the tense air. you could feel the heat of his scrutinizing gaze, unable to control your squirming as the warmth of his hand palmed at your barely covered skin. he massaged at the soft flesh, squeezing it between his fingers like he was being entertained by putty.

“you look so pretty in pink.”

a yelp escaped your lips when he brought his hand down against your ass with a resounding smack. he repeated the action on the other side with the same amount of force before half-assing an attempt at massaging away the sting. you hissed from the pain, his rough groping doing nothing to ease the feeling.

he hums to himself, hand pulling away to deliver another blow. you cursed at him, leg kicking up out of anger but able to do any real damage.

“y’know,” rafe says and you couldn’t help but huff in anger. “you brought this on yourself. we wouldn’t have to do this if you were just a nice girl.” you could hear the disappointment dripping from his voice and it enraged you.

“maybe i’m not nice to you because you’re a fucking dick.” he smacked you again. “fuck! stop, rafe!”

“and you’re a loud-mouthed bitch who needs to learn that actions have consequences.” 

if you thought he wasn’t holding back before, you were proven wrong. 

he spared you no second to recover from the barrage of smacks that he bestowed upon you. each time his hand raised, it reconnected just as mercilessly as it did before. all you could hear was the sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the bedroom, mind completely encompassed by the fiery heat produced by his palm against your ass. 

you wanted to scream out, cry for help from anyone that happened to be wandering the halls of the old manor. you didn’t though. not because you couldn’t, but because you were scared. scared that if someone did come to help, they would see you bent over rafe’s lap like a misbehaving child. scared that the someone who came to your rescue would be sarah–or ward.

the humiliation would kill you.

instead, you settled on continuing with your demands to stop. you swore at him, threatened him, kicked at him as hard as you could. you tried everything to get him to let up, but he refused. the sound of your voice was nearly drowned out by the deafening sound of your backside being brutalized.

you were sure if someone were to walk past, it could be heard on the other side.

“i’m going to fucking kill you, rafe!” you gritted out through teeth clenched so tight that you could pop a blood vessel. “you’re disgusting!”

the blue-eyed man tutted from above you, abruptly pausing his assault. unexpectedly he pushed your legs off his lap and rose to his feet, leaving you in a heap on the bed. you almost sung out a praise to whatever angel had been keeping an eye on you, finally taking pity on your bruised behind. it felt like you were on fire; face hot, skin sticky with the sweat from putting up a fight, and the site of rafe’s abuse burning from the phantom of his hand.

your eyes snapped in rafe’s direction, pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of metal. he’d taken off his expensive leather belt when he stood up, the accessory folded in half between his hands as his hardened, amused eyes stared down at you. your eyes flitted between his face and the belt in his hand nervously, throat bobbing as you swallowed dryly.

he predicted your movement before you could even make it, moving so fast that you thought he was transported to you. rafe caught your legs as you attempted to crawl away and pulled you back over the edge. your feet landed on the floor but your top half remained pinned to the mattress, a strong hand keeping you in place as you struggled against it.

“change of plans,” he whispered against your ear. you were sure he felt you shiver against his hold from the breath on your skin. “i tried being gentle–well, as gentle as i can be with you. clearly, that’s not teaching you anything. “

“haven’t you heard? corporal punishment is outdated and ineffective.” it was in your nature to argue with him, even when he had you pinned beneath him like a wolf would a rabbit. “i’m not learning anything except for how much of a pervert you really are–not that i didn't already know.”

rafe chuckled at this, very darkly. he pulled away from your ear and positioned himself behind you, the heat of his presence radiating in a way that was almost suffocating. the silence was so loud that you could barely hear the sound of the party outside, blood rushing past your ears thunderously.

you braced yourself, unsure of what his next move would be. however, he made no moves. the blond just stood there behind you ominously, keeping your hands pinned to your back as he watched you noiselessly. the temptation to look behind you was overwhelming, and it was then when he decided to act.

the belt made fierce contact with your sensitive skin the moment your head twitched, the stillness between you no longer. 

it took all of your strength to contain the scream that itched to leave your throat, a pained groan coming out from your gritted teeth. this was worse than his bare hand by miles, the fury of the leather leaving you thrashing with a single lick.

“i think,” he landed another strike to your ass after he spoke. “corporal punishment is very effective. it just takes a little…more to break through girls like you. it’s okay, though, you’ll learn.”

the belt comes down again and you couldn’t hold back the scream this time. 

he gave no time for you to recover, the viciousness of each swat intensifying each time it landed. it was loud, much louder than his hands and in your foggy mind you worried endlessly about what would happen if someone else were to hear.

you don’t move when he lets go of your wrists, body paralyzed from pain and fear. rafe takes hold of your barely there underwear and yanks them down, the fabric pooling around your ankles leaving you fully exposed and hot with embarrassment. he takes no time to look between your legs and quickly returns to delivering your punishment.

the comforter beneath you fell victim to the deathly grip of your now free hands, talon-like fingers digging into the fabric as you used it to brace yourself. tears ran down your face uncontrollably and every muscle in your body was tense from the torment.

“rafe, please!” you cried out, hardly able to form a complete sentence. “ow! stop, stop! i’m sorry!”

you weren’t even sure what you were apologizing for, but you couldn’t take the torture for much longer. you’d fix your mouth to say whatever it takes to get him off of you.

“how many times have i told you to stop dressing like a slut? huh?” you responded with a pained screech. he paired the question with another lashing, your cries for mercy doing nothing to garner any of his sympathy. “and yet, you still do what you please. so i’m going to do what ever the fuck pleases me.”

it felt like you’d been here for an eternity, but it’d probably been maybe twenty minutes. twenty minutes since you walked into his room like a dumbass instead of going to sarah’s like you planned on doing in the first place. twenty minutes wasn’t a long time, and nobody would come looking for you any time soon.

a sob racked through your body at that. your hands reached back to grab at his weapon of choice in a desperate effort to stop the battery, and in response rafe put them right back where they were against your spine.

“you want everyone to see your ass so badly,” the leather slashed through the air and landed on you with a crack. “so i’m gonna give you something to show ‘em.” 

you had been reduced to a pile of tears and tender flesh. rafe’s hands holding you down against the bed were hardly necessary; the both of you knew that you didn’t have the energy to fight back anymore. all you could do was scream, cry, and beg for him to end the attack against your poor ass. the welts on your flesh were beginning to form, you could feel it.

“stop crying.” he says from above you. you could practically hear the sound of his eyes rolling, but he paused the lashings anyways. “begging me to stop but–” he cuts himself off, his silence falling loudly on your ears.

the sound of the belt falling to the floor as he threw it into a random corner didn’t even register to you, the metal buckle thumping against the wall. all you could focus on was the hand between your quivering legs, and the throbbing sensation that you hadn’t noticed before. rafe’s fingers gliding against the wetness of your core made you flinch from being unprepared for his touch.

“you're leaking all over yourself…” shame washed over you in a tsunami-like wave, the feeling amplified by the wet sounds coming from where rafe’s hand meets the junction of your thighs. “i don’t think you want me to stop.”

“no!” you shouted. rafe let out a breathy chuckle as he watched you shake your head desperately against the mattress. “no more! please, i don’t want it...”

he hummed in response, fingers still toying with your dripping heat. they were just barely brushing over your clit, the bud swollen with need and twitching with every ghost-like touch. if you could scream, you would, but all you had the energy to do was whimper pathetically as he held you in place.

“hm, alright.” rafe’s agreeance made you release a shaky breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. “i know what you do want, though.”

you felt his thick fingers grazing your entrance; just the pads of them. he was being a tease, letting you soak in the humiliation of being so adamant on him leaving you alone but having your body betray you. 

he leaned down once again, the softness of his lips tickling the shell of your ear. you swallowed dryly as you struggled to focus on anything other than his torturous fingers sitting idly between your puffy lips. 

“you want me to fuck this little hole open with my fingers,” he hummed again, the vibration of it sending a shockwave through your body. “wanna drool all over my hand with that messy cunt.”

you shook your head, squirming against his hold once again in an attempt to escape his curious fingers. 

“no?” he asked and you shook your head again. “i don’t believe that.”

he only removed his hand from your long enough to flip you onto your back, barely exerting any strength to do so. instead of holding you down by your wrists, you were planted against the mattress by your neck with a firm hand. your own fingers moved to wrap around his arm while his returned to the heat building between your legs. 

you gasped at the feeling of a long, thick digit pushing against the tight resistance as it coaxed you open enough to slip inside. with him between your legs you couldn’t close them–all you could do was lie there pathetically as he did what he wanted. 

“aw, you feel that?” he cooed at you, eyes flickering up at your face briefly before dropping back to his hand. “it slipped right in…i think you can take two, don’t you?”

a whine slipped out at the feeling of a second finger slipping past the barrier of your hole to join the first one. his fingers were way bigger than yours, fitting inside of you more snugly than you were used to. he pulled them out at a snail’s pace, purposefully dragging against your spasming walls before pushing them right back in.

“yeah, you take it real good.” he grinned smugly, clearly enjoying the juxtaposition of the pained look on your face and the way you desperately latched onto his two fingers. “don’t want it, but your pussy’s sucking me in…why’s that?”

you couldn’t answer–not when you were panting like a bitch in heat, trying and failing at catching your breath as rafe stole it away from you. your arousal leaked out over his fingers and there was nothing you could do to stop it. his fingers felt too good, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

he continued with the bare minimum for what felt like forever, probably waiting on you to give in and beg him to fuck you. unfortunately for him, you would never do that. your will was much too strong to do something as desperate as that, and you were basking in enough humiliation as is; you’d never give up the single sliver of pride you had left.

it was rafe who broke first. he said nothing as the speed of his fingers increased, eyes focused on every scrunch of your nose and the whines that forced their way past your bitten lips. the heel of his hand kept making contact with your clit and it made you want to start crying again.

“such a pretty girl,” his eyes raked over your clothed body in satisfaction. something about you having to walk around in the same clothes that he turned you out in got him off, while it made you think about throwing them into a bonfire or burying them in the deepest part of your closet. “getting so wet and needy from me welting up her ass. i think you’re the pervert here, not me.”

“uh-uhn.” you protested the accusation immediately, reaching down the push rafe’s hand away weakly. he looked amused. 

“you’re not?” the blonde moved back to stare at your cunt grooling all over his hand, fingers fucking the mess back inside over and over. “why are you so wet then?”

you didn’t have an answer to that. his fingers pulled out of you completely, using the wetness as more lubrication to spread over your swollen clit. the bucket of sparks in your stomach had long turned into a bubbling cauldron, and the attention to the needy button did nothing but make it burn hotter.

his fingers dipped back inside with much ease this time and you nearly died from the embarrassment. your brain was foggy yet defiant, but your body worked against you by welcoming everything rafe had to offer. 

“no normal girl would get wet from shit like that. screaming and crying, beggin’ me to stop–but look,” rafe shook his head at you, eyes hot as he watched your frame twitch beneath his hands. “you’re squeezing down on my fingers like you want ‘em in there forever.“

he was right. you were screaming, you were crying, you were begging him to stop. now you’re letting him spread you open and getting wet when you should be screaming for him to get off of you. 

what was wrong with you?

you had no time to think about that, not when he added a third finger without warning. a cry filled the air–yours–from the stretch. you were so full. he sped up again, too, treating you with little compassion as he watched ruined your sopping pussy with the thick appendages.

“so pathetic to be this wet for me,” he shook his head at you, lips pulled together in a pout. “you know it too. you should be ashamed.”

you were.

“you’re not even gonna stop me, look at your legs shaking.” he pointed out the way you couldn’t keep still.

he was right; you weren’t gonna stop him. you couldn’t.

the veins in his arms strained with each pump of his fingers, biceps bulging against the tight sleeves of his shirt. you could feel your juices dripping down your ass, your other hole fluttering in sync with the one being stuffed with three fingers. every part of your body was tingling and desperate to be touched, and you were rapidly losing control of yourself the closer rafe brought you to the edge.

he noticed it, too. the way you couldn’t stop clamping down around him, how you unconsciously ground into his palm, the dazed look in your eyes and the desperation in your voice as you lost the ability to hold back.

“look at you,” he said. his eyes were filled with lust, dark and glossed over as he observed your behavior. “ready to cum after putting up all that fight. dressed up in this tiny, little skirt; you were practically asking for this. so disgusting.”

your breath was uneven and you felt like you were going to pass out, mind dizzy and drunk with the forced pleasure. he showed no signs of letting up, digging you out with a fervor that you’d never experienced. the sound of your whining became higher pitched, tears pouring from your eyes as you tip-toed the cliff ahead of you. 

“you’re about to cum, huh?” you nodded your head at him, eyes wide and wet with the lubrication. “yeah? you wanna cum?”

you screamed, but not for the reason you wanted to. 

“no.” rafe pulled his fingers away right before you fell off the edge, leaving your hips bucking against the air as you were denied the release he was forcing upon you in the first place. “you’re not gonna cum unless i tell you to.”

you would have rolled your eyes and protested, but the feeling of his hand coming down against your bare pussy made you yelp. your clit jumped and your nipples were begging to be released from the constraints of your shirt, the pain giving you a kind of pleasure that you weren’t equipped to handle. he did it again, and again. he did it until you were fighting to push him away and close your legs.

“aw, does that hurt?” he pouted at you when you whimpered out some semblance of a ‘yes,’ which was rewarded with another slap. “good.”

it was agonizing; how deliciously painful it was. it was so much–too much. you were becoming dumb, all brain function replaced with the pulsing of your abused cunt. he continued to slap your clit, entranced by the way it twitched and your hole clenched around nothing.

“you want me to stop?” you couldn’t answer; you were too stunned to form a coherent sentence and it made you feel like an idiot. rafe took pleasure in that. “stupid girl, you can’t even say anything. so fucked out and easy for me.” 

you were tempted to push him away and get yourself off, but even through your foggy brain you knew he’d never let you get the chance.

“need to taste this pussy…” he mumbled to himself, not caring if you heard or not.

he dropped to his knees with eyes still focused on you as he blew against your exposed clit, both thumbs spreading your lips open. he wasn’t worried about you trying to escape anymore; not really. it was clear you were too dazed to do much of anything but pant like a dog and take his abuse. 

he finally gave you his tongue after waiting for you to whine for it, the wet muscle flattening against the whole of your sensitive core. the texture of the appendage on your clit had you writhing, legs trapped in his hold and prevented from clamping down around his head.

you trembled as he lapped up your wetness, grinding against his face as he buried himself deep into your wetness. he was like a man starved, licking up your arousal as it spilled out of you in an endless fountain. the plush pillows of his lips encapsulated your clit, sucking on it roughly as he brought his fingers back down to fuck you open. 

your head fell back from the intensity, cries tumbling out of your mouth clumsily as he laved against your rosy bud.

everything was so wet.

“don’t you dare fucking cum.” rafe growled, pulling away from your pussy. his fingers kept going, but he kept his eyes on you now. it was impossible to ignore the way you pulsed around him. “i’m not gonna stop, so you better hold it.”

a broken wail left you and you wanted to curl into a ball. this was just as much of a punishment as being beaten with the belt in the corner, you were now discovering.

“please…” the rope in your stomach was being sawed in half by the second and you weren’t going to last much longer. “i can’t…”

he rose to his full height, staring down at your messy for; thighs covered in sticky precum with your skirt crumpled up at your waist. your skin was hot to the touch and covered in a thin layer of sweat, face wet with tears stains and eyes filled with lust fueled desperation. his fingers worked purposefully in the deepest parts of your pussy that you’d never been able to explore yourself. 

“taking me so fuckin’ deep, princess.” he teased you with his words, his voice only adding difficulty to holding back from cumming all over his merciless fingers.

“rafe…” you couldn’t tell him off; not when you were getting so close, so fast.

“‘rafe…’” he mocked the pleading tone in your voice. ocean blue eyes flickered up towards your own, dark with arousal as he watched you squirm. “you sound so pathetic.”

you could feel your thighs tensing as you tried your best to hold back. you didn’t know what he would do if you came without permission, but it was getting hard to care. his fingers were hitting repeatedly against a spot that had you seeing white and holding your breath. 

rafe let you stay like that for a while, desperately hanging on by a thread as he watched. 

“okay,“ he said, head tilted to the side. “you can cum–but i’m not gonna give it to you.”

“rafe!” you yelped. he pulled his fingers out and delivered a final smack to your already abused clit, smirking at your reaction. 

reaching up towards your face, rafe squished your cheeks together until your mouth was forced open. you audibly protested when he brought his wet fingers to your lips, the smell of your arousal invading all of your senses. your noises of defiance were ignored as he shoved the digits into your mouth. he coated your tongue with the wetness covering his fingers, fucking your mouth in the same way he used your other hole.

you couldn’t stop the saliva that fell from your mouth; it leaked down the sides of your face uncomfortably and you wanted to wipe it away. 

“you can go home later, and rub that dirty little cunt to the memory of this.” you stared up at him wide-eyed, mouth stuffed and clit pulsating at the wanton actions being performed on you. “every time you pick out a skirt to wear, you’re gonna sit on that welted up ass and you’re gonna think about how wet you got from my belt tearing you up.”

he watched you shift uncomfortably on your bare, bruised behind, but showed you no pity. 

the sting of it brought you back to reality, the weight of what just occurred finally coming to your clearer mind. rafe’s hand gripped your jaw and tilted it upwards to bring your attention back to him. the fear that you felt earlier bubbled back up. 

your mouth was relieved from the violating digits grazing the back of your throat. wet fingers slapped against your cheek twice, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make you wince from the sting.

“still think you’re above me?” rafe asked, face lowering to just mere inches away from yours. you shook your head the best you could, jaw still under the steel grip of his hand. “you–you should be thanking me, really…i’m older than you, remember? your job is to respect your elders, and my job is to correct you.”

you say nothing; not that you could anyway. he lowered his hand, pulling it away from your jaw and resting it on the circumference of your exposed neck. the tall man hummed at you, head tilting to the side like a puppy as he observed your disheveled form beneath him.

“i did it so that nobody else has to, y/n. jus’ looking out for you like i’m supposed to–even though you don’t deserve it.“ you blinked at him, prompting the fingers lying limply at your neck to squeeze as a warning. “say ‘thank you, rafe.’ you can do that right? ‘thank you for looking out for stupid little girls like me.’” 

you gulped away the part of you that wanted to spit out a curse at rafe, resistance vibrating deep in your bones. this had to be more humiliating than being spread out over his fingers, you thought.

“thank you, rafe.” the voice that came out sounded pained, and rafe could tell. he tutted at you, clearly dissatisfied.

“i don’t think you mean that…do you want the belt on your pussy this time?” his eyebrow quirked up at you, amused clear in his eyes as he watched your own widen in panic.

“no! no, i really mean it!”

his free hand landed between your legs again as it delivered the stinging punishment of his palm once more. 

“then fucking act like it.” rafe snarled at you, the heat of your center against his taunting hand. “‘thank you for looking out for me, rafe. you’re so good to me.’ and you better fucking mean it.” 

“thank you for looking out for me, rafe. you’re s’good to me!” you cried out weakly. rafe continued to slap at your achy clit with his flattened fingers, wordlessly telling you he wasn’t satisfied with your response. “i’m stupid ‘nd i don’t deserve–ah! i don’t deserve it. i’ll be nice, i promise!”

happy enough with your gratitude, he relented. he pulled his hand away from your quivering lower lips and stepped back, allowing your legs to fall shut and guard your crying, battered cunt from the cool air blowing against it from the ac.

“you’re welcome.”

you watch from your spot on the bed as rafe picks up your discarded underwear from the floor. he shoves the item in his pocket, leaving you bare with nothing to protect yourself. standing from your position on the mattress, your legs wobbled like a young doe before straightening themselves to their full length. 

you’d never felt so violated, so defeated. what made it even worse was the way your body still tingled with need. the feeling was deep inside you, walls clamping down on the phantom of rafe’s manly fingers. he was right, and it brought a cloud of shame that rained down on you. the first thing you’d do when you got home is stuff yourself with your own and pretend they were his. every time you sat down and felt the sting of his punishment, you knew you’d leak just like you were right now.

how could you call him a creep, a pervert? how could you call him disgusting when you were the one making a mess all over him after being held down and beaten?

feelings of guilt weighed heavy on your chest. you could pretend that none of this ever happened, but rafe would never let you forget; there’s no way he’d ever let it go.

shaking away the thoughts plaguing your mind, you pulled yourself together the best you could. a hiss sounded out through the room as you pulled the skirt down from around your waist.

the last thing you wanted to know was how bad your ass and thighs looked, the raised skin evidence enough as it painfully rubbed against the fabric of your skirt. rafe opened the door of his bedroom in a swift motion to reveal an empty hallway, eyes staring pointedly at you. the sound of your swift feet echoed off the floor, legs carrying you the fastest that they possibly could without tripping over each other.

before you made it past the threshold, rafe snatched your arm up into his grip. he leaned down to meet you at eye level, closely examining the way your breathing hitched.

“and stay the fuck out of my room."

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Money in massive amounts is never clean.

To amass a certain level of wealth, there’s inevitably a little blood on your hands. That's why I prefer the Wayne family with a touch of moral ambiguity—keeps things interesting.

Sure, we can say Thomas Wayne was a good guy (I mean, "good billionaire" sounds like an oxymoron, but I’ll let it slide since he's fictional). He’s a surgeon, sometimes a co-CEO, and in some versions, he even takes a shot at being mayor. But let's be real—his wealth didn’t come from rainbows and fairy dust.

No, the Wayne fortune wasn’t built on saving puppies and planting trees. Somewhere in the family history, there’s probably a dark corner filled with skeletons, or you know, a handful of emerald mines for exemple. I wouldn't be shocked if Thomas's great-great-grandfather named a labor camp after his wife—romantic, right? Sweet sentiment aside, you don’t just wake up one day swimming in billions without a few questionable "business decisions" sprinkled in.

Yeah, the Waynes are old money, but we’re talking about billions—like "richer-than-Queen-Elizabeth" money. Battinson alone is worth what, 9.2 billion? And in the comics? Bruce is probably a trillionaire, and that fortune didn’t just materialize from charitable bake sales.

You can’t convince me that all of the Wayne money is squeaky clean. Even if Bruce himself isn’t aware of it, some of that fortune likely came from, oh I don’t know, oil deals that were less "above board" and more "we took it from the Middle East." Because, like I said, you don’t build an empire like the Waynes’ without some shady dealings. Let’s face it, billionaires don't get to that level of wealth by being saints.

Now with the new Penguin series, we’re about to see how wealth is really made—without the rose-tinted glasses. Sure, Oswald Cobblepot is a mobster and criminal, but money is money. You can work hard, play by the rules, and become a millionaire—that’s fair, that’s normal. But billionaires? I guarantee you they’ve done worse than Penguin to reach their fortune.

Fictional or not, it makes for a more grounded and realistic Gotham and I do hope Reeves will explore this idea.

In Nolan’s trilogy, we had the shiny, perfect Thomas Wayne and his oh-so-virtuous family, but we never really dug into how the Waynes probably weren’t doing great things for, you know, the rest of the world.

In the Snyderverse, we got that backstory about the Waynes being hunters and building their fortune by selling furs to the French, if I remember right—but still. You don’t become that filthy rich by just selling that.

We always pin the morally questionable label on the Kanes or the Arkhams (Martha Wayne's family), but the Waynes? They’re consistently portrayed as Gotham’s golden dynasty.

Anyway, that’s my ramble for the day.

[vantaesfairie]

𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡 : 𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯

atlty’s tarot readings: art commissions, paid readings, spell ritual comms open!

choose a pile below:

part 1 of my christmas series!!!!

pile 1, reindeer friends with a cute snoot:

wow they could be quite rich! they could be from old money or enjoy spending daddy's / mommy's money.

they could be continuing a family's inheritance or legacy in their area of study or work.

they could enjoy nature or watch things grow.

they definitely put in long term strategies. they are probably good in investing money.

they have pretty good foresight. they could play a role of 'caregiver' a bit, like they will spoil you materially.

they could have a small waist regardless of gender, and tall.

they are a good negotiator and likes to make you smile.

they are someone who takes care of you deeply and wants to watch you prosper.

they want to steer you away from your bad troubles and only towards good days. they want to take away your pain.

you may meet them at a time of prosperous growth or when your life seems to be taking a turn to the next chapter.

pile 2, black cat in christmas lights:

they have a very strong energy, they could be a fire sign or enjoy gaming or group sports.

they are very assertive and tend to be more masculine.

they motivate others and you, and would literally fight off people to protect you.

they could feel challenged a lot, they may have trouble with their self worth, esteem, and ego.

they want to win arguments, they want you as their prize.

they could be blunt but quite persuasive. they could be good with words to make you happy or seduce you.

they would love to debate or banter playfully with you.

they could play sports that involve a stick, like hockey or polo.

they are very ambitious in their work with clear direction of where they want to go and achieve but lack proper emotional development.

they may need you to keep them in their lane sometimes with their bad days, but they would be so passionate with you.

pile 3, stag (james potter? should i start a hogwarts pac?):

they could be more soft and introverted than the rest of the piles here. they could have sadder eyes (in your opinion).

they could hurt people without knowing and suffer hollow victories.

they want to treat you like their forever lover with everything that they give you. they want you to glow and be a rainbow in their life.

they would be very attracted to you, you would be their type.

they could be blunt with words which they regret immediately after.

they see you as someone who can help heal them so they may come to you for comfort.

they could feel like an outcast in their peer crowds easily.

they run out of emotional energy quite quickly so you would help give them spiritual energy like a charger.

they would learn many emotional lessons from you. they never want to hurt you.

they could be avoidant when you two fight because of their nature to hurt people easily, but they want to always cherish you.

i hope you enjoyed this pac! please consider purchasing a paid reading by sliding into my dms. reblog and share if possible! i’d love to know if this resonates to you. thank you so much!

[childrenofcain-if]

Yeah, as accomplished and impressive as the mc is, the mc is far from a Mary Sue/Gary Stu. Literally, the scene with V where they try to cook? I cringed when I heard their plans for it (but trying new things is crucial to being good at them). Not to mention other scenes just showing the unbalanced lifestyle (I found Elias asking if the mc had their credit cards to be particularly hilarious) and things they lack. It's not like the mc reaches and touches an extracurricular, and whoops, Bam, Magnus Carlson!

They've also suffered not insignificantly (I can't possibly imagine losing a parent at that young of an age, let alone one you're close to.) And that nosebleed thing must've been a hell of a scare. Also - your reflection looking like that (as in non human or supernatural) would be terrifying. My life isn't notably bad, certainly not all sunshine and rainbows, but if I was offered to become mc and go through all that they will or even all that they have?

Yeah, I think I'll pass. I also think some of it might be people thinking the mc is completely effortless - which I have no idea where they got that - but it's evident while they aren't average in intelligence, they busted their ass off even if they try to play it laidback style. They got the best tutors in the world from a very young age - but that also meant they were using those resources constantly and studying. Not to mention, I think somewhere it's mentioned how mc's time was basically entirely split between studying, extracurriculars, and volunteering.

They're not a god. Just a mortal who had very fortunate resources who worked very, very hard with those resources. Hell, take a normal person with mid resources and have them use that schedule of studying, extracurriculars, and volunteering, and I'd bet they would turn out pretty damn accomplished/impressive too, even if they're not as good as the mc. It's what Richard Feymann said - you can get a normal person to understand quantum physics. They just have to study it well, hard, and for a while.

Yeah, the mc is rich and have quite the privilege, but that doesn't mean they didn't work hard for it and also lost some things in the trade off (mc might know how to cook if they weren't studying "all" the time and took the time to learn, for example)

Mc kind of reminds me of what's referred to as a glass cannon - exceptionally good at one or a few things, but at the severe (and probably unworthy) detriment of being very bad at others. Does mc even know what FAFSA is?

Also, the literal fatal flaw? An actual list? And mc can be as stupid (wisdom stat, not intelligence) and just party all the time.

If anons were going to pick on a character for being "too perfect" then M almost makes more sense. 10 languages, God knows how many instruments, in a good position in HoS, is probably crushing all of their classes, and is majoring in philosophy which can get wildly difficult now and again before toning back down (Nietzche, Kant, and Hegel, probably). Oh, they're also an RA. They to me seem more insane than mc does, even a mc who is designed to be crazy like vocal lessons, two sports, robotics, and debate club, with no burnout. And yet, they are perfectly flawed.

The mc just worked exceptionally hard, is clever, and had literally the best possible resources to get the most bang for their (or rather, Elias's) buck. I think about anyone would - at least - do very well in academia and extracirriculars if they had the best tutors in the world training them in those respective areas from a very young age.

this.

[eldritch-spouse]

One of your stronger demon oc’s: hey babe you interested in trying a new kind of foreplay? It’s called demonic possession

Their match: *looking confused* you already possess me though?

[Already talked about Livius with this, so why not good old Santi? Fem reader.]

The incubus laughs.

It's that same old rich, deep noise that had your knees weak the first time you heard it, and still manages to make you warm up briefly. Santi gives you a calm, lidded and loving look, it feels just the tiniest bit patronizing.

" Mm, that I do. "

He swirls his glass of sangria idly. You know he's not going to drink, its only purpose is to match your own set of cutlery, to make it feel as if Santi is having dinner with you, when he's really just keeping you company as you fulfill your basic human needs. You can't really complain about this though, the demon goes out of his way to order excellent dishes for you, and he never fails any of the "human meals in a day", as he put it.

" However- " The world rolls off his mischievous tongue. " I was using the word in a literal sense, love. "

You choke on the steak. " E- Excuse me? "

His head tilts, some sort of realization coming over that pale face when he studies your reaction. " No no, excuse me- I should have explained this to you better. "

Santi steeples his fingers for a moment, pauses, then plays with the glass some more, tracing its golden rim.

" You're familiar with the concept of demonic possession, right? " He starts, tone slightly more serious.

A shiver crawls up your spine, not exactly the most pleasant kind. " Y... Yes. Isn't it something horrific though? It's supposed to hurt! And deform someone's body! It can kill me! Why would you- "

" Easy. " Santi calls, watching your rambling get out of hand.

" Santi, that's insanity! You want to make me crawl the walls and start chanting things?! That arouses you? I don't think my body can- "

" Love. "

The more forceful tone silences you, but by no means is your apprehension quelled. Your appetite seems to fade in the face of possible danger.

There's a sigh from the monster in front of you.

" And this is why your silly little horror movies keep causing a divide in our society... "

That catches your attention.

A less inviting frown sits on Santi's face. " Possession gets an incredibly harmful reputation from your precious Exorcist movies. Each one more ludicrous than the last. "

It's your turn to frown. " Don't sit there and tell me that those things don't happen, Santi! Possession is done for all sorts of things and I'm not stupid enough to buy a lie that it's all sunshine and rainbows... "

You expect him to get even more upset, but instead, the incubus shakes his head, setting the glass down to look you in the eyes. " But it doesn't have to be that way, love. "

He continues when all you do is cross your arms.

" You've seen a hundred movies about demons with ill intent tarnishing the bodies of surfacers... But you've never seen a movie about a demon possessing the person they love, have you? "

Silence. He lets those words splay onto the table like a winning hand in a tense game of cards.

And, truth be told, you have nothing to counter that with. Because he's right. You have never heard of such a thing as possession between lovers.

" ... That's real? "

" More than real. " The high-ranker responds softly. " It's one of the most intimate thing you can do with an infernal partner. " Some of that earlier playfulness shines again. " And it can be so fun. "

You gulp, looking to the side. " It's dangerous. "

" Not if done properly. " Santi's quick to cut in. " A calm, willing vessel and a strong emotional connection will make it a much smoother process than the painful spasms you're privy to in your Halloween hits... "

It seems he has an answer for everything.

" Not to mention, as the bearer of my mark, you already have a little bit of me in you. It wouldn't be your body's first contact with my essence. " He's back to tracing the rim of the bottle, smelling it briefly, sharp pupils watching the berries in it sway before studying you once more.

" Why... Why do you want to do this? " It still sounds strange to you.

The dark fiend is silent for a few seconds, then leans forward on the table, glass set back down so his chin can rest on the palms of his hands. A grin with more teeth than lips threatens to cleave his face.

" Because it gets me really hard. "

... Can't fault him for lack of honesty.

Clearing your throat, you take a sip of your drink so you can think of what to say next. You need to pick your words right or this conversation will escalate to Santi playing with himself at the table.

" I could guess as much. "

" You're still hesitant. " He points out, piercings jingling as he tilts his head.

" I guess... What I'm more worried about is, how long it'll last. What you're going to do. What... What're the terms? "

His brows raise. " Treating this like a deal? How clever of you! Alright, here are my terms. "

Santi straightens, and although his smile is endlessly lascivious and wanton, he speaks clearly and slowly.

" I want to possess your delicious body for three days and three nights. During that time, you can hear, see, smell and feel everything that happens. You can talk to me and you will be given periodic control to perform certain tasks. "

He starts.

" I want to use it for both our pleasure, and I will be having sex with people I determine can service us well. I will not disclose to these people that you are possessed. " There's a beat of silence, before he adds something in forethought. " Although it may look as if some acts will be painful, you have my word that only pleasure will reach you. "

The meaning is not lost on you. " So you want to make me sleep with huge monsters? "

Santi winks, amused to be caught.

" That's relative, isn't it? What monster isn't huge compared to a human? Why I'm fairly huge to you. "

Your eyes roll. " What a charming non-answer. "

The incubus' jovial laugh is almost infectious.

" Come now, we'll see. "

It's your turn to make a move. Wide, blinking puppy eyes are cast towards the handsome demon. " Can't you even give me a pointer, it's my body after all... "

" Is that an agreement I hear? " He hums.

" Answer the question. "

Santi makes a quiet chuckle. " Very well. " Dark knuckles crack, he stares off for a moment, licking his chops. It's the signature look of a pervert looking forward to the near future.

" I have an idea as to who our first bedwarmer can be- "

" Of course you do. "

" I really do. " He snorts, the suave look breaking entirely for half a second where his amusement is so great he cannot help it. Santi waves for you to keep eating, waiting until you have a bite to continue.

" So, there's this bakery close enough, I've been meaning to take you there for a while now because I hear stuff there is divine. Anyhow, the guy in charge of it is really interesting. You know mindflayers? "

The very same bite you just took flies out your mouth, back onto the plate. The incubus stares at it for a second, then wheezes quietly. " Taking that as a yes. "

" Aren't mindflayers... Kind of reclusive? And evil? "

" Well, typically, yes- "

" And this one runs a bakery? "

" That's what I said- "

" What is he selling, brain croissants?! "

Santi barks out a laugh that nearly sends spittle across the table, having to look away from you, clutching his midsection and cackling like a madman.

" That's the thing- " The incubus clears his throat, nearly losing his composure again. " This one is very interesting. He's uhm- I'm not sure what the process is called, but he's a loner. Swore off people brains, or so he says. Trying to make an honest living! "

Slowly, you try once more to finish your meal. " And you want to fuck with him. "

" No... " The way his lips wobble at your deadpan is enough of a tell. " I want you to fuck him."

You make a face at the idea of laying with a mindflayer.

" Mhm, don't look at me like that. " Santi purrs.

Beneath the table, you feel his tail gently loop around your ankle, squeezing.

" Have you never thought about it? What can a lover with such long tentacles do to a cute little thing like you? How will he take advantage of your weak, simple-minded nature to do whatever he wants? "

When you gulp, it's not just because you need to swallow your current mouthful.

" Let me paint the scene, love. "

The incubus seems to be getting short of breath, the thrill of his own lurid fantasy forcing him to bite his lip and trace his own horn piercings with restless fingers.

" You're hardly dressed, the peaks of your nipples poking out a sad excuse of a top and your skirt so short the smallest brush might bare your cuntlips. You're hungry, we're hungry, so you walk into this cozy looking bakery to get yourself something sweet. Oh and many are the treats in that glass display, but the most appetizing of them all is the big man carrying a hot tray from the kitchen. He's tall, a peculiar mindflayer with a strange skintone and unusually thick build, his tendrils cascading longer than you'd expect. The look on his face is one of complete focus as his boots thump softly on the ground. Until he sees you, that is- "

Your attention to this little tale he's spinning is more rapt than you'd care to admit. Not that you need to, Santi can tell.

" His latest client. A human girl with this cute little smile and doe eyes. Mister Roland, you ask so sweetly, I've been told such wonderful things about your talent and pastries. You're oh so charming, so enticing, the poor baker can't deny the thoughts that course through his perverted mind. He wants to bend you over his counter, wants to spread you out before him and force your legs apart with his long nimble appendages. You'd make such a fine stress-reliever to rut into during breaks, wouldn't you? And you'd love getting stuffed full of illithid cock, right? You're begging for it after all... "

" God, Santi- " You mutter under your breath.

" Hm... Maybe all it takes is some simple conversation, letting those fantasies foment in his mind, building into a desire so pungent it would make even me crawl the walls. You tilt your head, kick your legs, lid your eyes and invite him away. He wouldn't mind a little interruption, surely. And then, oh then- With a little bit of my help, you'd turn him into a drooling beast. A species thought so impervious to all sorts of manipulations, all but barely able to think of anything except the taste of your pussy, the hug of it around his cock- He's lonely, lonelier than he's ever been now that he's on his own. You're probably the first thing he's going to fuck in a small eternity. Ideally, we get him here. Want to know why? "

Santi points to the bedroom, where a large mirror resides.

" I want to see him hold you up in those practiced hands and pound you into a pulp with his tendrils wrapped all around you, neck tits thighs, flicking your dirty little clit- Oh he may not eat your brain, but he's certainly going to fuck it out of you. "

" Holy shit, Santi- " You nearly yell.

" Fun, right? I told you. You just have to start believing in me a little more. " He's back to weirdly smelling the sangria.

The silence that follows is thick and heady, he lets you process the canvas he painted for you with a soft rumble of anticipation. You dare not look into Santi's eyes, because the depravity you'll find there will doubtlessly steal your will.

Fork and knife neatly arranged, you push the plate forward.

" I... I want a safeword. "

The way he lights up like a Christmas tree is impossible to miss.

" Of course, love. " The incubus sighs dreamily. " We can pick one tomorrow. Now, if you're done eating, let's get you to bed. "

" Because, after all, you're going to have a long couple of days ahead of you. "

[httpdwaekki]

soft raven | b.c.

summary: channie comes to visit you while you paint your nails, turning into you painting his nails.

wc: 2.4k

a/n: idk how i feel about this but i wrote it a while ago but channie's part to my nail painting series woo! also please pretend one of those nail polish bottles are black because i cannot for the life of me find a picture of black nail polish that isn’t on nails that matches the aesthetic LMAO. i hope you all enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

please consider donating to this fundraiser!

minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

(photos are not mine! credit to owners!)

you were sat at your desk, glasses slipping down your nose, headphones sat atop your head. you had one headphone pushed behind your ear as your monitor displayed a random adventure time episode. you had various nail polishes displayed in front of you, deciding which combo you wanted to do. 

unbeknownst to you, chan was leaning against the door frame, watching the internal debate play out as your eyes dart to each color. he had been in his office/studio working on a few tracks while you were keeping yourself entertained at your desk, playing games with felix, watching shows, etc.

 now you were having a creative war in your brain, trying to come up with unique color combinations and patterns. chan stayed there for a moment, heart swelling with love and overwhelming adoration. he watched as pick out different colors, tongue sticking out slightly as you examined the bottles carefully.

he pushes off the door frame, walking up to you, placing his arms on the back of your chair,. you felt movement behind you causing you to look at the culprit. you smile, pushing up your glasses, “hi bub.” turning your attention back to the small bottles filled with every color of the rainbow.

“what are you doing, bug?” he asks, leaning against your chair, glancing over your shoulder. “i’m trying to decide what color i wanna paint my nails.” you moved to lean back against your chair, causing the aussie boy behind you to shift, wrapping his arms around you.

you lean your head back, lips pursed, silently asking for a kiss. he smiles before placing a sweet kiss to your soft lips. you pull apart before looking forward, leaning your head against one of his arms wrapped around you. “ can i pick out your colors?” he asks, staring at the miscellaneous colorful bottles.

your cheeks warm, “you want to?” he nods, before releasing you, moving to grab your old chair in the corner of the room, pulling it up to your desk. you scoot over, giving him space to slide in next to you.

he becomes serious, analyzing each bottle individually, before grabbing two colors, a rich, inky black and a soft, light purple. you look at him with waiting eyes, he sat there looking at the colors for a moment before he looks over to you. his signature side smile, dimple on full display as he slides the two bottles to you.

“these two?” you ask, grabbing the bottles out of his hand. he nods, “can we try something?” you hum, prompting him to continue. “so i saw a video of a girl getting her nails done and she got her nails done one color and then painted her pinky black.” you nod, turning towards him. 

“and then she painted her boyfriends nails and she painted all of them black and then painted his pinky the color she painted her nails.” he finished shyly, looking down at the two bottles in your hand. “so you want to paint my nails with the purple and then my pinky black and then i’ll do the opposite for you?”

you watch as chan’s cheeks slightly reddened as he lightly nods. you giggle, placing your hand on his cheek. “that’s so cute baby, i’d love to do that with you.” you quickly kiss his cheek before letting out a happy squeal.

you shake your arms in excitement before turning back to your desk, you take off your head phones, placing them on your monitor. you quickly put all of the other colorful bottles away where they belong before grabbing all the things you need to prep his nails. you had already prepped yours since you were planning on painting them anyway. 

you look back over to the aussie boy next to you,` looking at you with pure adoration, falling more and more in love with you. “what?” you ask, looking at him with big eyes. he smiles, shaking his head, “nothing, what you got there?” he points to the various tools you set out.

you explain each one as you grab the nail polish remover and some cotton pads. “so the stick is gonna push back your cuticles and the clippers are gonna trim them before i use the nail polish remover to remove any oil on your nails.” he listened intently as you explained each item.

“okay so here’s the question, do you want to paint my nails or do you want me to do both?” you ask looking back to him. “maybe you do both this time and i’ll watch and then next time i’ll do your’s.” you nod before grabbing the towel you use specifically for doing your nails.

you lay the towel out in front of him before grabbing his hands and placing one on the fabric, keeping the other in your hand. “okay, i’m gonna clean your nails quick and then i’ll start painting.” he nods before looking at the screen in front of you, the cartoon still playing on the screen.

you notice this, placing his hand on your thigh before grabbing the headphones, “here.” you whisper, gently placing the headphones over his ears. he looks over at you with a pout. “what’s wrong bubba?” you ask, small smile making it’s way on your lips at his cute antics.

“now i can’t hear you.” he whined, his pout somehow bigger. you giggle before pushing back one of the speakers off his ear. “better?” you ask. he immediately smiles before turning his attention back to the animated jake and finn in front of you. you smile to yourself as start pushing back his cuticle.

“if it hurts please let me know, i don’t want to hurt you okay?” you look up to him, catching the slight nod as he was already engrossed in the show. you smile at your boyfriend before going back to work.

you push each cuticle back with care and precision before placing his hand on the towel before grabbing the other, repeating the process. you place his second hand back on the towel before grabbing the first and the clippers.  “try to stay still okay? i don’t wanna cut you.” he looks over after hearing your serious tone.

he smiles, giving you a firm nod before turning back to the screen. you slowly make your way around each finger, mindful not to get anywhere close to his skin. you finish the first hand once again moving to the second before repeating the process once again.

you put his hand back onto the desk, before grabbing the base coat, shaking the bottle. the movement caught chan’s attention, “oh what’s that? base coat?” he asks, looking at the bottle of clear polish in your hands. you nod your head, humming and you unscrew the brush from the bottle.

you place the bottle on the desk before putting your hand out, waiting for him to place his in yours. he gives you his hand, returning his attention to the screen, fully engrossed in the animations.

you paint each nail with precision, tongue poking out in concentration. after you finish the first hand, you place it back on the towel before tapping his other hand causing him to move the  second one towards you, eyes glued to the screen. you can’t help but look at him with pure adoration, the way he looks captivated by the show while fully trusting you to do whatever you want to his nails.

your cheeks warm before you grab his hand, painting each nail with the clear polish. you placed his hand back down, screw the brush back into place, turning your attention to the screen as you wait for his nails to dry. luckily you refuse to watch anything without subtitles so you were able to follow along easily.

you lay your head on his shoulder, placing an arm on his thigh, drawing random shapes on the soft skin. you feel him place a long loving kiss on your head before laying his on this same spot. you both stay like that for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence.

after a few minutes you gently tap his thigh, signaling him to move. he let out a small whine before moving, looking at you with a pout. “don’t give me that look, mister.” you scold him playfully. “you’re the one that asked me to paint your nails.” he mimics you before huffing, turning back to the screen.

“hey.” you whine, catching his attention. once he turned to you, it was your turn to pout, his eyes softened immediately “that was mean.” your frown deepens, jokingly crossing your arms. “oh baby, i’m sorry.” he coos, attempting to apologize. you turn your head the other way, nose up, egging him on.

“my bug, please.” he begs, you can only assume his puppy dog eyes are on full display. when you don’t react he brings out the big guns. he scoots his chair impossibly closer to you while pulling you closer to him. “sweetheart, please.” he begs, grabbing your arm, entwining your fingers before bringing your hand to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to the back of it.

you look over at him, actively fighting the smile attempting to make its way onto your face. “come on sweetheart, you know i was just playing.” he says, his voice dripping with sweetness. you can feel your face getting warm as you cave. “that’s not fair.” you grumble, pulling your hand away, causing him to pull back, scooting away slightly.

“what’s not fair, sweetheart?” he asks, feigning innocence. you glare at him. “you know what, don’t play coy.” you accuse, scooting your chair back into the desk. you glance over catching the sly smirk gracing his lips, fully aware of the effect that pet name has on you.

you roll your eyes, small smile on your lips as you grab the bottle filled with the dark polish. you shake it quickly as chan settles next to you, placing his hands back on the towel. you unscrew the brush, placing it on the desk and take one of his hands before painting each nail.

taking even more time than you did with the previous clear coat. taking extra care to make sure each nail is coated perfectly with no streaks and nothing on the surrounding skin. after painting the first four with the darker shade before grabbing the lighter, lavender shade, painting his pinky with the same caution.

after finishing the first coat you repeat the same careful process with his other hand. your tongue starts poking out as your concentration increases, fully committed to the task at hand. so committed you didn’t realize chan had abandoned watching the nostalgic cartoon to watch you meticulously paint each nail with care.

you continue to repeat the process for a second coat, ensuring the color would but rich and vibrant. it’s only when you finish painting his second pinky purple that you notice his stare. you lay his hand back on the towel before looking over to him, realizing he’d been staring at you, causing you to do a double take.

“what?” you ask, pushing up your glasses that were slipping down your nose, tilting your head to the side. his cheeks redden slightly, before smiling and shaking his head. “nothing.” he looks down at his nails, his smile getting impossibly bigger. “it looks so good bug, thank you.” you smile.

“i’m glad you like them.” you say before grabbing the top coat giving it a shake. “alright i’m gonna give that a few minutes to dry then i’ll put on the top coat. and then once that’s dry you’ll be all set.” he nods, turning his attention back to the cartoon.

you place the clear bottle on your desk before scooting slightly closer to him and the desk. you relax back in your chair, placing your arm on his back, hand landing in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. he lets out a hum of satisfaction, leaning his head back into your hand like a cat.

a few minutes pass and you decide it’s time to apply the top coat. you sit up, taking your hand out of his hair, shaking the bottle once more. you hear a whine coming from beside you. “what’s wrong?” you ask, looking over him.

he pouts before letting out a yawn. “i was almost asleep.” he say through the yawn. “well let me finish this quick then we can go lay down okay?” he nods, before yawning once more. you made quick work of coating each nail with the clear polish. “ alright sleepy head, you’re all done.” you screw the top back on, gathering all your tools and paints, putting them away neatly.

“what about your nails?” he asks through a yawn once more. “i’ll do them tomorrow, right now i think it’s time for bed.” you say, taking the headphones off his head, running your hand through his soft hair. he gives you an understanding hum, before closing his eyes.

you place your headphones in their respective place before closing all your tabs and shutting off the colorful pc. you stand up, chan following closely behind. “just be mindful of your nails okay? the top coat is still wet.” you warn helping him up before pushing the chair back to the corner. he comes up behind you, placing his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder before following you out of the room.

you flip the light off as you walk out, making your way to your shared bedroom. you switch on your bedside lamp before you round the bed to your sleepy boy’s side, giving his arm a tap, signaling him to let go. once he lets go, you move the blankets, giving him space to lay down. 

he sits down, moving to get under the covers with your help. “careful bubba.” you remind him, as he settles into the soft mattress. he lifts his hands as you move the blanket to cover him. you round the bed sliding under the blankets before putting adventure time on the tv and turning off the light.

chan opens his arms for you to lay in, burrowing into his chest, getting comfy. “i love you, sweetheart.” he mumbled, kissing your head before letting out another yawn. “i love you too, channie.” you say, placing a kiss above his heart as his breathing evens out, taking him into dreamland as you follow slowly behind him.

do not repost

[felibrary]

COLUMBA

synopsis: rainbow roses represent love and passion. similar to the feelings you’ve harbored for lyney ever since the two of you were children, feelings full of determination and tenderness.you take the initiative to confess your feelings,  the cards are already laid out on the table, the choices have already been written out and decided. besides one: the one that reveals lyneys response. how will he react?

✧ pairing: lyney x reader | wordcount: 2.1k | content and warnings: fluff, angst, confessing feelings | prompt: unrequited love | oneshot

✧ authors note: i might dislike this one even more than the "wish you were sober" one... this one's just so much more choppier</3

✧ tags: @azullumi

event: STARCROSSED 2024

“and a rainbow rose for you!” 

the sly magician winks at you as he reaches out his gloved hand to yours. lyneys slender fingers are gracefully wrapped around the stem of the colorful flower. he looks at you, eyes full of anticipation as he awaits your reaction. 

his eyes twinkle like an amethyst - a gem that gleams and reflects the fluorescent light as it gets shone upon, presenting the purity that lies hidden beneath the depths of the pair of eyes. the irises that are drenched in a deep purple glint with a certain shimmer that you can’t quite make out. if you were to take a guess you’d say that they look hopeful, buoyant, almost fond. 

seriously, who were you to deny him? his smile is probably worth a fortune, it’s blithe practically dreamy. the ash blond is undeniably a beauty among the nation of justice - a seraphic seashell that lies buried in the fine sand, easily seeping through the tiny gaps of the palms as it is held with utter care. petite sand corns disappearing out of sight and the only object that remains in the hands is the mussel. 

it basks in the radiant sunlight and the sand that slipped out of the grasp of the fingers can only watch in envy, as the seashell continues to relish in the gentleness of the person who discovered it. the one who is allowed to see its beauty and all the secrets that are kept sealed beneath.

amid the vague living room light, lyney continues to shine as elegant as ever. his stage presence long-forgotten, revealing his true nature to you, the lyney whom you know, the one whom you grew up with, the one who makes your heart race. the lyney that shows himself to the outside world is simply just the celebrated magician of the court of fontaine but there was much more to lyney, so much more. 

to the people of fontaine he’s like the backside of a playing card, unaware of the image, the number, the symbol that is imprinted on it. but that’s not the case for you. unlike them you know lyney like the back of your hand. the two of you grew up together at the house of the hearth. under the care of father with lynette, freminet and the other children that resided there. 

no matter how many times lyney and lynette tried to trick you with one of their new learned magic tricks, you’ve always seen through them. nevertheless you weren’t able to deny that they were really impressive, especially for children of such a young age. naturally, over the years he grew up to be a grand magician, not only wrapping the audience that was seated in the rich red places in the court around his fingers, but also you. luring you in by coaxing mellow praises into your ear and simple gestures like this one, offering you a rainbow rose a day before a performance. 

an action that never fails to make you swoon.

his incandescent eyes, the ones that glow like a vibrant glass shard that got swept to the shore by the tide, his million dollar smile that is plastered on his pale face, they are the traits that make lyney look simply irresistible. 

(you don't think you could ever reject lyneys advances, after all you’ve already fallen far too deep into the bottomless abyss, also known as love, to search for your path out.)

right now, at this moment you think lyney looks absolutely majestic, heavenly even. taking a snapshot of this wouldn’t be enough to capture the beauty of lyney. neither would a portrait do the job well. the movements of the paintbrush are delicate, swiftly moving around the canvas, but they’re not enough. no matter how many brushstrokes were to be painted, they still wouldn’t be enough. 

(either way he’d outshine every other painting that gets hung next to his. he’s the muse that will always be out of everyone's reach.) 

simply because lyneys beauty, his bare nature, is something to keep etched into your mind, engraving it onto stone so that it will never fade or wash away, no matter the circumstances.

you reciprocate his action, accepting the flower. grasping the rainbow rose carefully, so that the stem doesn’t crinkle and eventually falls into two pieces or the blossom loses its petals. “my, what’s the occasion?” a performance awaits the folk of fontaine tomorrow. you already knew the answer, but, nevertheless you question him. lyneys honeyed voice is a sound you’ll never get tired of. listening to him as he talks never feels like a chore, rather, it feels like a voluntary course that isn’t important at all. but nevertheless you stick around, to not miss what others don't get to see.

“well, as you might already know, a performance awaits the folk of fontaine tomorrow.” the magician responds. you can only chuckle at that, predicting lyney has always been easy for you. 

“is that so? i can't wait.” you give him a small grin and take another peek at the flower. beautiful, you think to yourself as you look up to lyney once again. the corners of your mouth curve into a content smile. lyney stares right back at you and does the same, giving you a bright grin in return that makes your heart pump quickly. 

the brightness of lyneys smile competes with the one of the sun, it’s warm and welcoming. it works wonders like medicine, soothing and curing your wounds with a simple grin. lyney is out of this world, he's charismatic, making you fall for him head over heels. fun to be around, always making you laugh over stupid jokes. and not to mention caring. 

the first two buttons of his white dress shirt are unbuttoned, showing off his delicate collarbone. lyney was never particularly muscular, rather, he had a quite slender build.

“i’ve never put much effort into my physical training as in my shows. after all, i have an audience to bewitch with magic tricks, not my body."  you recall his words and the giggle he let out after.

some strands of his ash blonde hair are out of place, including his dyed one. his maroon colored hair slightly stands out, but you don’t mind, it's similar to the color of a maple leaf, vivid and lively. flying through the wind, admired by passersby as it floats around in the air. out of reach until someone takes the chance to grab it. 

“by the way, where’s the thank you?” lyney jokes in an offended manner. his sultry voice snapping you out of your former haze. 

“hm?” you tilt your head to the side.

“for the flower.” he points at the rose with his gloved finger. 

“ah, right. thanks a lot, it's really pretty.” you thank him by giving him another smile. before casting your gaze down to the rose again, admiring the colorful petals as you remember charlotte's words. 

“for example, magicians often use “rainbow roses” in their flower related performances to represent passion and romantic encounters.” her words stuck to you like a millstone around one’s neck. surely lyney knows what they mean, he’s not unaware what they symbolize right?

it makes you wonder if lyney is aware of your feelings, and possibly even returns them. lyney has always had a keen eye for the beauty of this world, attentively swaying his gaze around and admiring the elegance that lies within each individual. did lyney also see that kind of beauty in you? one that goes even further down, reaching into the inescapable depths. but then he’d face the ugliness that slummers at the bottom, despite that, how is lyney able to love you? 

for you the beauty of this planet has always been lyney. he’s the sun that you bask in, relishing in its warmth as the sun tendrils place delicate kisses on your body. the water that engulfs your body, plattering against your limbs and makes you feel refreshed. he’s the blood that runs through your veins, the one that makes you function properly.  

the question still lingers in the air: does lyney reciprocate your feelings? 

your grip around the rose is tight, fearing that it might slip out of your grasp when you’re inattentive and losing it. you watch lyney make his way to the stage, the crowd already awaits their renowned magician, waiting in and staring in awe as he performs another unpredictable magic trick. 

the air is thick, the tension increases at every passing second, for both you and the crowd. if lyney takes another step, you’ll lose the lyney you know, your lyney. instead you’ll have to watch as he takes up on his persona, even if it’s only for a mere hour, it always feels like an eternity to you, until you get to see the lyney whom you love again. 

besides the sound of lyney who was shuffling his cards thoroughly once again, it was dead silent.

“nervous?” lyney looks up to you, a knowing glint in his eyes. 

“huh?” you’re confused, what is he implying.

“the way you fiddle with your fingers.” he points at your hands with one of the cards, a red heart you notice. “you only do that when you're anxious.” lyney says. “come on, tell me what’s wrong, you know that i’m always here for you, right?” he gives you a reassuring smile, a genuine smile that isn’t there to satisfy his guests. 

sometimes you forget how easy it is for lyney to see right through you. you nod as a response to his observation. “yeah, ironic isn't it? i’m nervous even though you’re the one who’ll enter the stage at any given moment now.” you try to sound steady, trying to convince yourself. but your voice betrays you, it quivers.

“aww.” lyney coos at you. “you know i hate that expression on you, do you not?” the ash blond sighs dramatically, purple eyes still maintaining eye contact, a fond shadow casting over his pupils. “how am i supposed to go out and present, knowing that my best friend is dying from nervousness.” he jokes, shaking his head. before he looks up at you once again with a look that says “don’t worry.”

best friend. 

“lyney.“ you try to gather your courage, how does one confess their feelings to the person whom they adore?  lyney smiles at you “yeah? i’m all ears.”

“lyney, you’re probably already aware of my feelings. but i really like you.  i love you. i've loved you ever since we got introduced to one another, ever since we were children.” you don’t dare to look him into his eyes, too embarrassed by your confession just now. you play with the fabric of your freshly ironed shirt a bit, to distract yourself, as you await lyneys reactions.

“archons, since when were you this sentimental?” lyney laughs out. “that’s what you were afraid of telling me?” he takes a few steps so that he stands in front of you now. “gotten all shy now?” the magician teases before patting your head. the action makes you look up, greeted by lyneys smile . “i love you too. youre like another sibling to me.” he slightly tilts his head to the side. "even though we’re not blood related, it just feels like we’re family, don’t you think?”

“no! lyney that's not what i-” you protest but you get cut off by the announcement.

“and now ladies and gentlemen, presenting fontaines renowned duo, mr. lyney and ms. lynette! a big applause please!” 

“ah!” lyney looks behind him where everything was already set up and put in place. “i suppose that is my sign to leave. farewell!” he inches away from you. “let’s reunite after the show, shall we?” he winks at you and bids you goodbye before rushing off to make his way over to the stage.

you remain glued to the floor, frozen in place after you’ve just gotten rejected. you hope this is just another one of lyneys antics, a joke that he will later on reveal as faux and tell you that he reciprocates your feelings. but you know that he won't. yes, perhaps lyney is a liar, a good one at that. he has lied to a dozen people before, but never once to you. 

the rainbow rose in your head shines vividly in the dim lightning, its petals making it glow beautifully. you’re not sure what came over you, frustration, regret, remorse. you’re not certain. the petals that were once finely attached to the pistil, will be gone, you rip the petals off, one by one.

he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: "i got sibling-zoned." "that's rough buddy."

[hypnzo]

Flowers wilt overtime, so...

Leo Valdez x Reader

(please excuse the spanish if there are mistranslations.. English is not my first language!!)

Spring has always been beautiful, it's the season of time where flowers usually bloom under the rainbow rays of the sunlight that peaks through the clouds.

Flowers felt like colors that shun through the vibrant green leaves, appearing out its stem from the rich nutrients of the soil underneath.

Adoring flowers from afar was one thing, you'd often see its bloom in the demeter cabin's garden. They were beautiful, healthy, and obviously well-taken care of, which made it a little hard to resist from plucking out a piece of flower from their garden.

However, receiving flowers was also one thing, and that slowly turned to a routine at least once a week ever since you've got Leo Valdez on your side of the line.

“Hey Sunshine,” Leo grinned, tucking his hand behind his back, trying not to look suspicious. Though he did already look suspicious enough just immediately from the tone of his voice, but you decided to play along just to see that smile of his, “how's your day been!”

Before you could respond, he popped the flower in front of you, “Ta-da! How do you like that?” he says, adding a flare of wink which complemented that sweet grin on his face, “specifically from your Leo Valdez.”

“Wow Leo, I.. never would've expected that,” an amused smile twitched from the corner of your lips as you looked at him with a raised brow before holding the small bouquet of flowers he got you.

“Uh-huh,” Leo quips out before grinning, “anyway, do you like it? Looking beautiful, huh?” he tucks a hair strand behind your ear, causing you to form a small smile on your lips.

“Yeah, they are beautiful. Thank you, Leo,” you say as you look him in the eyes. His eyes softened before forming a small laugh on his lips.

“Gee, you're not getting soft on me, are you?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows with that stupid, sweet grin of his.

Rolling your eyes lightheartedly, you muttered out a small, "Of course not,” but you couldn't resist the smile that appeared on your lips after seeing that signature smile of his.

Of course, flowers don't last forever. Unfortunately they wilt every time. As much as you try to keep your flowers alive, they just can't seem to appear lively which makes you question how the demeter kids do it...

Though, that really isn't much of a question considering their powers and heritage.. You've tried to ask them to help you out, but unfortunately you've been confused over and over and the results were always the same.

It didn't help when the Demeter kids apologized since they cannot keep a flower from wilting. I guess that's just how nature goes... “Bummer,” you muttered out in a whisper.

As you watched your flowers tilt slowly over time, you heard a knock outside your cabin. “Who is it?” you answered while walking towards the door.

“Guess who, cariño,” (sweetheart) a familiar voice echoed through your ears and surprised you after you opened the door. Of course it was your boyfriend, Leo Valdez, with his usual smile.

You couldn't help but smile after you realized it was him. “Leo, what are you doing here?” you asked curiously, raising a brow from his sudden presence.

“Rude,” Leo stated with a mock pout. “Did you not want to see me, sweetness?” he asked, trying to look wounded by your words. It was clear that he wasn't, not when he's trying his best to suppress that grin of his.

“Of course I wanted to see you,” you said with a smile, brushing off his dramatic antics. “Just– what are you doing here? Do you.. need something?”

Leo rummaged something from his newly built-in pocket, taking something out of it really carefully as if it's too fragile and too much pressure would crumble it apart.

Giving you a grin, he showed you something he artistically crafted just for you.

It was pieces of metals stuck together which formed it into a flower. You were struck by the sight, not exactly expecting this, but this piece, you couldn't help but smile knowing it was definitely something Leo would make.

It gave you a rush of giddiness around your body knowing he spent his time to evenly craft something just so he'd see that smile on your face.

“Your reaction's worth it, mi amor,” (my love) Leo winked, which made your earlier surprise melt away and replaced with a smile on your lips, a tint of glint glossing your eyes.

“Leo.. you,” you giggled out, “you didn't have to, y'know?” you say as you took the metal flowers in your hand, it was a perfectly crafted rose—three roses, to be exact.

“It's not that I was required to,” he says shyly, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, “I wanted to do it. For you, y'know?”

“And plus, those flowers I give you every week? They wilt all the time,” he poked your side with a teasing smile before he spoke again, “don't even get me started with how sad you look whenever you have to witness those little things wilt.”

He paused.

“So why not craft you something that won't wilt?” he says, exaggerating the 'wont' which cracked up a smile on your face.

“I love you,” you muttered out before pulling him into a kiss. Leo was surprised but melted instantly, priding himself internally for his creation—one that put a smile on your face.

Pulling away, he couldn't help but smile while your foreheads were pressed to one another. Before you both could pull away fully, he pressed a quick peck on your lips. ”Yo también te amo, querida.” (I love you too, darling.)

Bonus

It had already become a practice for Leo—he would often get you flowers at least once a week and soon enough this became a routine for you ever since you got together.

Leo, of course, willingly always brought you flowers. It wasn't like a routine for him where he just had to. He wanted to do it—which he'd often reason it was just because "he loves you,”which was true!

However, sometimes, he just wants to see that smile of yours and admire the way it never fails to appear on your face whenever you receive a flower from him.

Oftentimes, he'd pluck out at least one petal from the flowers and take it with him. Whenever he's not able to come by through the cabin and see the flowers, that petal helps him to determine if the flowers have already wilted or not.

So, just like clockwork, once sees that the petal have wilted, he'll immediately run over to the demeter cabin, politely and awkwardly asking for another set of flowers.

This became normal to the demeter kids as they have gotten used to him suddenly appearing outside their cabin, asking for flowers.

(They should honestly start charging him, they're most probably considering it..)

Leo saw that the petal was almost wilting. Usually, he'd run over to the demeter cabin by now, but.. he brainstormed for a while and thought: Why not make something else?

His mind was set on flowers, but he was wondering how the hell he was gonna make flowers as a Hephaestus kid. Personally for him, he doesn't see himself being interested in planting flowers, that feels so out of character for him!

He did have some left over metals from his earlier works. He took one good look at them and realized an idea: Metal flowers!

Leo immediately got to work, though he's not gonna deny it, it definitely took a lot of tries. He wanted it perfect exactly for you as his lover, so he spent hours on making it and trying to perfect it each time.

“And.. done!” he beamed out a smile as he held the metal flower in his hand, “Man, Leo Valdez, aren't you a genius?” he says with a sigh of relief.

It took a lot of hours, but at last, it was finally done. Was he proud of it? Yeah. Was he nervous to show you? Yeah..

But when you gave him that smile, he swooned over it so fast and all the nerves that were making him sweat on his palms suddenly melted away.

[another-lost-mc]

Omg hear me out

OlderStepBrother!Levi x YoungerStepSister reader

He's so protective over you, after all, nobody's good enough for his little sister except for him<3

a/n: oh, he'd be so creepy.

➤ older step-brother!levi | headcanons

1.4k words | nsfw | gn!reader | dark content

cw: step!cest. reader is late teens/early 20s and levi is mid-late 20s. modern au; implied cyber-stalking/surveillance; cursing; ambiguous ending.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who's completely uninterested in getting to know you. So what if your parents got hitched? It's not any of his business. He hasn't even met you yet, but the more he hears about you, the more annoyed he is for reasons he doesn’t understand. He doesn't care about what university you're going to, or what your grades are, or that you like "the same cartoons and games" he does. He's not going out of his way just to meet you. It's not even worth his time to look you up online. He couldn't care less.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who you only know vague details about before you meet him for the first time. You don't understand what he does exactly, only that he's good with computers and works freelance and somehow affords his own house in an expensive neighbourhood a few hours away. He might be older than you, but not that much older. Your stomach does somersaults when you think about meeting him because he's new and unfamiliar. Still, you’re cautiously optimistic that maybe if you get along, you can be friends.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who finally meets you when you go home for the first reading week of the semester. He ran out of excuses to avoid attending a pointless family gathering, and he's just desperate to get his old man off his back about being a recluse. He has his game plan ready: after playing nice for a couple of days, he'll go back home and pretend you don't exist.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who slowly realizes that maybe you have more in common than he realized. You're not some airhead or annoying social butterfly soaking in the riches of his father's fortune. You mumble your name and glance at him shyly from under your lashes and shuffle on the balls of your feet like you're too nervous to stand still. Levi feels self-conscious too because you point out the anime figure keychain dangling from his car keys and the cute vinyl stickers he decorated his car with. He assumes you're going to tease him, but you chatter on excitedly about how they're some of your favourite characters too. He hesitantly takes the second controller when you invite him to play games in your room, and you're mediocre at best. (It's still endearing when you cheer not because you won the race, but because you avoided driving off the rainbow track.) You might not be hardcore like him, but there's something almost cute about your enthusiasm. Why is your awkward laughter so contagious?

"Why did you choose this room?" he asked between races. Your bedroom isn't tiny by any means, but he knows his old room has nearly twice the amount of space. "I figured you would've cleared out my room, it's a lot bigger." You scratched the back of your neck and shrugged, eyes focused on the TV to avoid his scrutiny. "It didn't feel right going into your room and clearing out the rest of your belongings like that. It's still yours, even if you don't live here anymore." You tapped the gamepad and waited for him to select his character for the next match. "Want to keep playing?" He snapped his head away from your face and looked at the screen, choosing a character at random while he resisted the urge to cover his face in embarrassment. His cheeks burned hot. "Y-yeah, sure we can," he muttered nervously, cringing when his voice cracked.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who finds himself wanting to spend more and more time with you. His plan to leave after a day or two at most is officially scrapped. How can he leave so soon when you still have ten episodes of the latest season to watch together? There's a bowl of popcorn on the couch between you and when it's empty, he jingles his keys and drives you both to a late-night boba tea shop. The old folks are in bed for the night—they won't even notice you're gone.

"C'mon, you haven't finished watching it yet? But the last season is the best one!" You rub your arm awkwardly in the passenger seat beside him. "I started watching it with my ex but we—well, we broke up on bad terms and I guess it reminds me of them when I try to watch it now." You miss the curious glance when you stare out the window and you don’t elaborate further. He can only imagine the worst even though it doesn’t make sense—you're cute and sweet and who the hell would be stupid enough to ruin something so good? Your shoulders shake and you breathe out a stuttered sigh, and something venomous hardens his expression into something cold, like steel. He’s tempted to ask for your ex's name but decides not to—he suspects it’ll be easy enough to find once he gets back on his computer. He clears his throat to break the awkward silence. "Well, if you wanna try watching it again, maybe we can re-watch the whole series together?" It only takes a second for the hand resting on the gear shift to squeeze your knee gently and return to where it was. He stares at the dark road ahead even though he knows you're looking at him now. "Don't let ungrateful assholes ruin good things for you. You’ve got me now, okay?”

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who is determined to keep in touch when that short week together comes to an end. He already has blank social media accounts he uses to follow his favourite game developers and anime blogs, but now he has a new reason to use them. Once you realize it's him, you accept all his friend requests without hesitation. He even creates accounts for apps he doesn't even use so that he can see all the photos and videos you upload to your private account. He scrutinizes all your old posts and takes screenshots of the photos of you that turn him on he likes most. You don't post a lot of selfies, but he sees glimpses of your daily life: the café near campus you like, your room in the house you rent with some other classmates. Sometimes you post things that remind you of him now too, and even though you don't mention him by name or tag him, he knows who you're thinking about.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who is surprisingly thoughtful. Sometimes he comments on your social media posts directly, but most of the time he texts you instead. You have disjointed conversations throughout the day and it becomes habit for both of you. He asks how school is going and how your roommates are treating you. You ask him about his job because you're still not sure what a freelance cybersecurity expert does. He gets flustered when you ask him if he's dating anyone and you don't bring up the subject again. Maybe he's just shy?

Player Two: ugh.

LEV14TH4N: what's wrong?

Player Two: are you sure i'm not bothering you? you must be so busy with work...

LEV14TH4N: pfft. you're not bothering me at all. i'd rather talk to you than these idiots i have to work with.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who claims he has more money than he knows what to do with when he starts sending you little gifts. He asks for a link to your online wish list and has everything delivered express: the latest manga volume he knows you're excited to read; a pre-order for a game that's coming out soon; your favourite snacks. He also sends you an expensive housecoat when you mention off-handedly that yours is getting a little threadbare and you need to buy a new one soon. It's from a high-end boutique you've never heard of but sounds expensive. The robe is made from the softest plush material and it's so warm; it's a bluey-purple colour that reminds you a bit of his eyes. All he asks for in return is a picture once you've tried it on—to make sure that it's the right size, of course.

LEV14TH4N: you look

LEV14TH4N: sorry. it looks nice on you. i'm glad you like it.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who never seems to sleep. He offers to skim your assignments just before the midnight submission deadline. Later, he reminds you that it's no trouble at all—he was still awake so no need to feel bad! Sometimes when you can't sleep, you scroll through your social media feed and hope the boredom will cure your insomnia, until a familiar name pops up on your screen.

LEV14TH4N: you have class in a few hours, can't sleep?

(He jokes that he just had a feeling you were still up, and you're too sleepy and flattered by his concern to question him further.)

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who makes plans on weekends to come see you at school when he thinks you could use a break. He makes the drive to town—a couple hours away from where he lives—and you spend the day at the mall, or visiting your favourite lunch or dinner spots. You invite him inside to meet your roommates and he looks around your room curiously. You seem happy here, and he's glad.

(You seem happiest with him, and that makes him feel even better.)

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who can't wait to see you on your next school break.

LEV14TH4N: the old folks are going on vacation this winter.

LEV14TH4N: but you can stay here if you want. there's lots of room and it beats spending the holidays stuck on campus by yourself.

Player Two: really? you don't mind?

LEV14TH4N: of course not.

LEV14TH4N: i'm looking forward to it.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

James Stewart (The Philadelphia Story, It's a Wonderful Life, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly.

Gilbert Roland (Camille, The Cisco Kid movies, The Bad and the Beautiful)—no propaganda submitted beyond pictures below the cut

This is round 2 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

"Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don't get distracted by Grant (or do, i'm submitting him next)."

"He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!"

Link to TCM page submitted for Stewart

"And here he is in colour! From Rope!"

Propaganda for Gilbert Roland:

[sokuly419]

So now that I cried, sat in relative silence for about an hour, and had some time to sleep… I think I can make some kind of choppy ramble about Act 2. It’s gonna be long… sorry.

First, let’s just appreciate the cheap shots.

Jinx calling Vi “Fat Hands” after just absolutely dogging on each other.

Vi calling Cait a “rich, unhinged mongoose” and Cait following it up with “angry oil slick.”

Cait cracking Vi in the face with the butt of her rifle (seriously, girl, stop it) and giving the “I’m really sorry but you asked” shrug.

Vi spitting on Cait’s cheek just for her to wipe it across her lips.

Vi telling Ambessa to “just shut the fuck up.”

Guys. This act was pure pettiness and lovely.

Okay, I think a handful of people need to be reminded there was a time jump of several months. I’ve been seeing a lot of people accusing Cait of immediate rebound with Maddie and an immediate switch when she reunited with Vi. More on that later.

The way I started out mad as fuck because, well, Maddie. I did laugh at the way Cait kept pulling away every time Maddie tried to get intimate. Girl was feeling all sorts of guilt about it I think. When Cait made a comment about not thinking about it going on so long, it could either be taken as whatever she had going on with Maddie or about the martial law. I have a feeling they were going for the martial law situation, but I saw it as either. Either way, there’s some kind of realization that happened.

Honestly, Jinx was dishing it out the whole time and I loved it. All of it. She’s just a little shit. Jinx was never my favorite, but like I said before, I do like her. No hate here. And her relationship with Isha and Sevika? Come on. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Now, I’ve never played the game and I don’t ever plan to but I have listened to the in game dialogue or have at least heard some of it. And I’m so glad we got Jinx calling Vi “Fat Hands.”

Vi was a damn mess. I mean, we all knew it was gonna happen. But seeing her pale and sunken? Even after Jinx shows up? Ooooof.

The banter with Jinx was lovely. They’re just sisters and it shows.

And we finally got to see her actually smile. Only for it to be ripped away. Again.

Now… I want to address the seemingly sudden switch for a lot of things, particularly Cait and Vi.

There was a time jump of “months.” Even if it wasn’t flat out said, you can tell by the length of Vi’s hair. It doesn’t get that much longer in even a single month or even two or three, guys. On average it’s about 6” per year. Even in the trailers and teasers we got before s2 even started, I knew there was going to be a time jump at some point based on that alone. I remember kinda looking at my wife like, “Vi’s hair is… longer. Wonder when that happens.” I’m thinking this jump is around 8-10 months after Act 1

Anyhow, the characters had time to think and do things in that time. Cait probably finally started to realize her actions do, in fact, have consequences. And seeing Vi again was the final nail in that coffin. We watched her fold quickly. And that little “cupcake” sealed it. And before we start getting into the “I can’t believe they’re working together again so quick after what Cait did” let’s take a second to think about the Act 3 teaser. They’re gonna argue. 100% things are going to get thrown in Cait’s face. It’s not all rainbows and sunshine.

And then there’s Vi. People are dogging on her for essentially losing a physical interaction with Cait when she fought in a pit for a living for those several months. To start, it was an ambush and took her by surprise (Jinx was also able to land one hell of a slap by taking her by surprise too). Cait also had a weapon at her disposal and used it (seriously, can we stop hitting Vi with the butt of the rifle?). Now this is just me throwing some realness into all of this, but Vi was drinking a lot and falling into alcoholism. When you stop drinking, you feel weaker and sick and foggy (at least that how it was for me). I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that was something to do with how easy it was for Cait to take her down. Vi was likely going through some withdrawals. Again, that’s just some speculation and giving some real life attributes.

Now for them to trust and work together again so quickly? I think it was at a level of just needing to get something done and complete the “mission.” At least at first. The amount of care and love Cait still has for Vi was so obvious. Which brings me to… y’all should really listen to Oil & Water by PVRIS. It’s been confirmed a while ago (if I’m remembering correctly) that it’s about Cait and Vi from primarily Cait’s POV. Vi clearly still loves Cait but she’s also still, rightfully, pissed off and hurt.

Can Jayce just… leave shit alone? Just once. For the sake of everyone. Doing that to Viktor was uncalled for and now he caused even more problems.

I’m still not ready to talk about Isha. Because what the actual fuck. The music and flashback montage started and I knew… I just knew. The tears started and then the explosion and then I was full on sobbing. Not cool. I’m still in absolute shock.

Vi having to watch Vander die AGAIN. Give the girl a damn break, please.

Also, where’s Ekko and Heimerdinger? We need the unproblematic ones to calm everything down a few notches. Ekko just wants his tree fixed, man.

My thoughts on Act 3? I’m still hoping we get the Caitvi sex scene. But I’m also so scared someone else is going to die now. Like absolutely terrified.

“Hope you got a chance to, you know, before…”

I will simply give up on everything. Full on rage quit and I’ll end up like Vi at the bottom of that pit.

Someone please tell me I’m wrong and looking too far into it.

Or Jinx sacrificing herself? That’s a popular opinion I’ve been seeing.

I need answers. I need Ekko’s tree fixed and Caitvi to just end up together without question.

And this concludes this round of Arcane season 2 Act 2 rambling.

[absolutebl]

Hello! I discovered your blog relatively recently so forgive me if you’ve already done this but would you consider compiling a list of all the times crossdressing has been done in bl? Whether as a plot-device, for comedy, for serious reasons, just all the times crossdressing as a trope has appeared.

In a similar vein if you wanted to explore it I’d also be interested in the breadth of trans rep in bl/queer shows and movies in Asian media and if that ever blends into the crossdressing (maybe also drag would be interesting to throw into the mix as well?). Also just an exploration of Queer Femme characters that are not made fun of or villainized by the narrative would be cool! Basically just exploring femme queer aspects in bl in all its good, bad, and I’m sure sometimes ugly forms!

Hi, welcome! Ooo, crossdressing. Frankly I can't think of many and I don't have great recall on this one so I will have to ask the feed.

BL's With Crossdressing

Meet You At The Blossom (China 2024) - major plot point

Nobleman Ryus Wedding (Korea 2021) - historical, entire premise

Kieta Hatsukoi AKA My Love Mix-Up! (Japan 2021)

Love Stage (Japan 2020) - major plot point (better executed in the anime version)

Love Stage (Thailand 2022) - major plot point better executed than either Japanese version

About Youth (Taiwan 2022)

I Told Sunset About You (Thailand 2020)

Jack & Joker (Thailand 2024)

My Bromance the movie (Thailand 2014)

My Love Mix-up (Thailand 2023)

I Am Your King (Thailand 2017) - this is Mark Siwat's first BL, and yeah, he's the one cross dressing (he plays the femme rich boy in Jack & Joker)

The Sign (Thailand 2024) - historical costume for the girl of the past being played by a boy is a gender mix of female/male attire, it's very clever

YYY (Thailand 2022)

I feel like Gun has crossdressed in one of his. Theory of Love maybe?

Mr Cinderella (Vietnam 2022)

My Sky (Vietnam 2017) - trigger warning

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam 2021) - major plot point

Moots et al...... other (older?) BLs with cross dressing?

Others worth noting

Either the representation or the BL is in question, or it's not exactly crossdressing it's something else. Still, some obscure ones just in case.

Wait For Me at Udagawachou AKA Udagawachou de Matteteyo (Japan 2015) - may be triggering involves body dysmorphia and fetishization of trans identity, but if you can you should watch this

Spring of Crush (Korea 2022) - this is a bromance

Rainbow Prince (Pinoy 2022)

DNA Says Love You (Taiwan 2022)

Great Men Academy (Thailand 2019)

3 Will Be Free (Thailand 2019)

Love Sick 2024 (Thailand) - made an aggressively male character from the original into a newly out 3rd gender/trans character in the new version, very intentional modernization choice, fascinating. Directly addresses dead naming among other things in the few scenes she has.

Saneha Stories series from Thailand

You should follow Cooheart on IG he does some fantastic gender bending and crossdressing styles. He's the fashion icon gift that keeps on giving.

Thai BL has tons of representation and use of characters/actors of Thai third gender, a lot of which is for comedy. Rarely if ever in BL more like Diary of the Tootsies. I would say my favorite and most beloved 3rd G rep is in The Sign. But that is is different than what you asked for.

Femme rep I have talked about before, most specifically in the context of Daisy in Secret Crush On You......

More Queer Lens & Thai BL 

BL Linguistics & Queer Identity I Am Gay versus I Like Men 

Husband Wife Language in Thai BL (SOTUS, TharnType + a lot of 2022 BL) 

Thai BL Lacks Representation of Butch & Transgender Men (and why this has to do with Thailand's 3rd Gender) 

Thai Military Service & Thai BL

Hope that helps.

(source)