#Dining Table Market Share

[connorsui]

More than luxury - Sylus

Sylus x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Sylus, a man who has spent his life chasing luxury and success, finds himself increasingly disillusioned by the hollow comforts of his opulent lifestyle

Genre/Warnings: pure fluff, soft moments, longing, sylus wanting a comfort life with you, no warnings we die in marshmallows

Note: sylus got that money money...like ...billion ..type of money ...

Sylus had always been drawn to the finest things life had to offer. His days were filled with high-end cars, exclusive parties, and luxurious penthouses overlooking the city skyline. He’d spent years chasing after these things, convinced that they would bring him happiness. But now, sitting alone in his sleek apartment, surrounded by all the trappings of success, he felt a hollowness he couldn’t shake.

It was in those quiet moments when his thoughts would inevitably drift to you.

Your life couldn’t be more different from his. While he spent his nights at glittering events, you were in your kitchen, baking something sweet, the aroma filling your small but cozy apartment. You didn’t need much to be happy—a cup of tea, a good book, maybe a favorite movie playing in the background.

Sylus found himself captivated by the simplicity of your world. He often made excuses to visit—dropping by under the pretense of needing to discuss something trivial or offering to pick you up on his way home. But really, he was just desperate for a glimpse into the life you led.

He would linger in your apartment longer than necessary, pretending to be interested in whatever small talk you offered, but really, he was soaking in the atmosphere. There was something grounding about your space, something that made him feel more connected to the world, more at peace. He marveled at how you could find joy in the small things—a new recipe you wanted to try, a potted plant you’d picked up from the market, or the soft glow of string lights you’d hung across your window.

Sometimes, he’d catch himself lost in thought, imagining what it would be like to come home to you. To walk through the door after a long day and be greeted by the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen, to hear your laughter as you told him about something silly that happened during your day. The idea of slipping into this routine, of being part of your world, was both foreign and deeply appealing to him.

He imagined helping you in the kitchen, albeit awkwardly, chopping vegetables under your patient guidance. The two of you would bump into each other, laugh at his lack of culinary skills, and eventually settle into a rhythm that felt easy and right. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he wanted—this kind of domestic bliss—but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When he was alone in his cold, modern apartment, the luxury he had once craved felt empty. The sleek, stainless steel appliances, the minimalist decor—they all seemed meaningless without you there to share them with. He found himself wondering when his priorities had shifted. When had he started longing for something more than just wealth and success?

Sylus didn’t have all the answers, but he knew that he wanted you to be a part of his life. More than that, he wanted to be a part of yours. He was willing to leave behind the life he had built if it meant he could have something real with you.

So the next time he saw you, he didn’t make an excuse to leave quickly. Instead, he stayed. He asked about your day, offered to help with dinner, and when you laughed at his clumsy attempts, he couldn’t help but smile. He felt like he was finally where he was meant to be.

And as you sat together at your small dining table, the two of you sharing a meal, Sylus realized that this—this simple, quiet moment—was worth more than all the luxury in the world.

Sylus shall live in my chamber of poor pillows

[le-monchou]

you wanted reqs? you're getting them.

secretly getting a Leona themed phonecase and waiting how long it takes him to notice w/ gender neutral reader

all i want is you(r merchandise)

when you first snuck out the hotel to look for cool merch, you didn't really expect to find knock-off but still good quality merchandise of your boyfriend in a short alleyway close to the main markets. "is this... merch of the second prince?" you'd asked somewhat dubiously with a little shock. when the 'merchant' responded enthusiastically, launching into a short anecdote of how the few policies leona was able to implement had helped her, your heart soared, and you offered to buy a phonecase off of her.

but now that you had it, the big question popped up in your head- how were you going to hide this from leona? given his abilities to read the changes in moods and situations, you weren't going to be able to hide- wait a damn minute. what if you never hid it at all? a smile that could only be called wicked appears on your face as you make your way to the fancy hotel under the royal family, and that's when your plan (conccocted within the span of time it took you to get back to your room) started with full effect.

heading to the dining area with kalim, who was telling you a random story about him and jamil visiting the sunset savannah a very long time ago, you greet leona with a raised hand, showing him the cover as you normally would, and with a roll of his eyes, leona waves you and kalim over to the table. "you took forever, herbivore," he complains as you pat his head in apology.

"yep, i went exploring for a bit, showered, and bumped into kalim who was already heading over here. fun story though, kalim. i hope you apologised to jamil for that." kalim nods affirmitively as you sigh pitifully, placing the phone downwards on the table as jack chokes and vil visibly swallows a cough.

leona ignores the choking and coughing, shifting the vegetables on his plate ruefully. "anyway, tomorrow's match is a crucial one, so i need you all to focus. [name], don't annoy anyone." you scoff, before snaking your hand with leona's. "of course i won't. i'll just annoy you." leona rolls his eyes at that comment, but doesn't bother removing his hand from your's. and yet somehow, the phone cover still goes ignored the entire night.

this is actually much longer but i got tired of ruminating like share and subscribe for a part 2 maybe || 388 words

[lovesickhughes]

SILVER BELLS   — nico hischier x reader 

a/n: happy december! here is the first of my upcoming christmas series. i loved writing this so much and feel like it was a great way to start the holiday season! a big thank you to @hughesinthebox for helping me with the ending of this fic, it honestly made it 10x better and more adorable, i appreciate you! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻🎄🤍🧣

tags: nico hischier x reader

warnings: mentions of pregnancy (not the reader), FLUFF TO MY CORE

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Alright, just one more button and you, my little munchkin, will be all ready to go,” You heard Nico coo to your eight-month-old daughter as he buttoned up her cotton onesie that provided an extra thick layer of warmth to take on the brisk December air. As for yourself, you paced around the main room of your parent’s house, gathering all the last belongings you needed for the family outing. 

Thankfully this year, the Devils’ schedule aligned perfectly with the holidays, giving you ample time to share with your family before Nico would soon be back to his busy schedule and captain responsibilities. 

Nico and you were visiting your parents in your hometown for this week, before travelling to visit Nico’s side of the family the following week. While your family decided to stay at home and spend time watching Christmas classics, your brother and sister-in-law, as well as Nico, you and your daughter Ivy, decided to attend the city’s Christmas market and Christmas tree lighting. 

You remember as a child, experiencing the amusing sights of all the houses in your neighbourhood decorated with bright and colourful lights, so when proposing the idea to your siblings and husband, they all were more than happy to reminisce over your shared childhood. 

Nico delicately placed Ivy in the carrier, buckling her into the seat, making sure she was adjusted correctly, before grabbing his own coat to put on, picking it up from the dining room table and sliding his arms through. When you had finished packing the diaper bag to go, placing it on the table next to Ivy, you peek over at your bubbly daughter, eyes growing soft at the sight of her features, knowing they were an exact copy of Nico’s. 

You sigh in content, “my sweet girl.” You said quietly, before reaching down to place a kiss on the soft skin of her cheek. As you stood back up, you felt the hands of Nico slide to your sides, squeezing softly, causing flutters to rush through your veins. 

You turned in your stance to face him, his hands still resting on your hips. 

“Hi, you.” You say through a giggle, trying your hardest to hold back the giddy feeling that erupted through your body. 

“Hi, baby,” Nico responded, leaning down to place a quick peck on your lips, before smiling into your eyes again. Your hands lift to come to his shoulder, resting around his neck and your hands finding the nape of his neck, scratching softly. 

“Thank you for getting her ready.” You thanked, smiling as you looked back to your left at your daughter who quietly babbled to herself. 

“You don’t need to thank me.” Nico responded with a squint in his eyes. He then reached down again to meet your lips, this time holding the kiss a few seconds longer with more adoration filled between. You both pull away, smiling at each other before getting your shoes on and bidding your goodbyes to your family staying home, and exiting the house to meet your brother, Noah, and sister-in-law, Lauren, who would be driving the group to the venue. 

Nico opened the one back door of the SUV, while you walked to the far side of the car, sliding into the middle seat to help Nico attach the baby carrier with Ivy inside, into the seat of the car, making sure it was secure for the drive to the market. 

“All ready?” Your brother asked from the driver seat, turning to look back at the three of you in the back row. Nico and you gave a nod, while Ivy was preoccupied with her new stuffed animal your Mom had gifted her as a welcome gift to Grandma and Grandpa’s. 

The drive passed by quickly, but the parking situation added an extra twenty minutes to the commute before you were all stepping out of the SUV. You walked to the trunk of your brother’s car, opening the door over your head and pulling out the stroller for your daughter and setting it up, while Nico began putting on the baby carrier he agreed to wear for the day for your daughter to have a better view. 

Placing the diaper bag in the bottom part of the stroller, you then reached in the side door of the car to unbuckle Ivy from her seat, her expression lighting up when she saw your face. 

“Hi, my sweet girl!” You exclaimed, mouth falling open in excitement, earning giggles and incoherent noises from your daughter who wiggled in your grip. Her legs bounced up and down in excitement as you held her slightly above your shoulders, and you pulled her in, peppering kisses onto her soft cheek. “Ugh, mommy loves you so much.” You mumbled into the side of her head while kissing the fluffy hood that covered her head. 

You turned to face Nico who already had his gaze landed on you, a look of adoration filling his eyes. The two of you swiftly placed your daughter into the carrier, Nico adjusting the straps on his shoulders, while you made sure the contraption was snug around all areas of your daughter to keep her safe. 

Once ready, the four of you and your infant set foot towards the city’s display. There was live Christmas music playing in the distance, while the noise of bustling cars and city life filled the background. 

“I’m glad we could do this,” Lauren said, and the rest nodded in agreement, “especially getting to show little Ivy the awesome Christmas lights.” She cooed as she looked towards Nico who had his arms out in front of him to let Ivy hold onto his fingers. 

You smile at the sight, feeling a warmth run through your veins. “Me too, I appreciate you both coming with,” You smile at your brother and his wife, “It’s almost time you two bring a little one like Ivy into the group.” You joke, nudging your brother who walked beside you, pushing the stroller for you, despite the protest. 

You arrive at the street that hosted the Christmas market, white tents being set up on either side of the street, all filled with small businesses selling their products. It varied from homemade foods like flavoured dips and jars of pickles, to handmade ornaments and other decorations for the holiday season. You all perused down the street, finding little gifts to give to your family members and friends. 

A couple of hours had gone by before the sun had started setting and the thick snow clouds began to cover the night sky. The plans followed that you would attend the Christmas tree lighting in the main quad of the venue, before heading back to your parents’ house for dinner. 

Ivy had periodically napped throughout the day, and thankfully had a moment of energy, perfectly enough at the time the massive sixty-foot tree would be lit up and glisten in the snow that had just begun to fall. 

The crowd gathered around, forming a circle around the barricades as the workers hustled in preparation. Nico stood closer, wanting Ivy to have a view of the lighting, while your brother stood next to him and they chatted amongst themselves. 

Lauren and you stood behind, gazing at the pair, a warm feeling in your heart at the sight. No one would have told you even three years ago that this is where you would be, married to the Devils’ captain with a kid. 

Nico had – without a doubt – changed your life for the better. He provided you with love and a sense of security and there was never a moment where he didn’t bring you joy. And to make it even better, sharing a child with the man you loved was the biggest blessing you could have ever received. She was your lifeline and more, and you wanted nothing more than to provide with all the love you had to give in your heart. 

The countdown began, everyone chanting the numbers in anticipation, and you peered over Nico’s shoulder to see your daughter’s reaction. When the number reached one and the tree erupted in a bright, illuminating essence, the squeals from your daughter made your stomach flutter in a mother-ly instinct. You smile at her and reach your hand and place it on her small torso, rubbing up and down as you whisper sweet nothings to her. 

You look up at Nico who is already smiling down at you, a bright smile erupting across his face before he leans down to kiss you. The kiss is soft, but filled with affection and desire. 

When you pull away, you smile at your husband again, before lifting yourself on your toes to place a peck on his rosy cheek, cold to the touch from the winter air. 

“I love you,” you speak softly so only Nico can hear. He smiles at you even brighter, placing another quick kiss to your lips. 

“I love you more, honey.” He smiled back. 

When you step back behind your brother and Nico, Lauren nudges your shoulder to reach your attention. 

You turn to face her, “Y/n,” she says seriously, “with the way Nico looks at you, and how you are as the most adorable little family,” she pauses, pulling you in closer to her frame, “I can’t wait to tell Noah we’re going to have one of our own.” She says through a smile, a shocked expression falling onto your face in excitement. 

“You’re kidding, when did you find out?” You asked excitedly. 

“About a month ago, I was waiting to share the news, but I felt like you deserved to know a bit before the rest.” She spoke softly, smiling. 

You gave her a quick, but tight hug, careful not to bring attention to yourself and sister-in-law. 

“Ivy’s going to be so excited to have a little cousin.” Was all you could think now having revealed Lauren was expecting. 

–

Later that night, after Ivy was fed with her bottle, and placed in her portable bassinet, Nico and you were now getting ready for bed, sharing the bathroom that was across the hall from the spare room you were occupying at your family’s house.

Nico had already changed, so after brushing his teeth, he made his way into bed, careful to not disrupt Ivy’s peaceful state. 

You follow shortly, turning off the hallway light and quietly retreating back to the spare room, avoiding making too much noise to prevent waking any other family members up. Shutting the door behind you softly, you walk to the side of the bed you would be sleeping on, quickly stripping from your sweatpants and sweater you had been wearing while watching classic Christmas movies with your family after a delicious dinner. 

Nico, from his side of the bed, reaches on his side attempting to reach for your bare hip that was only covered by the thin layer of your black lace underwear. He manages only to snug a finger under the fabric, letting the elastic snap back against your skin with a smirk written on his face. You playfully scold him for his attempt, before quickly slipping on your pair of Christmas themed pyjama shorts and matching button-up top. 

Climbing into bed, you immediately find yourself in the embrace of Nico, his arm wrapping under your frame and around your shoulder, while his other arm meets the side of your hip, his hand lightly gripping your body. 

“How was your day, my love?” You asked as a small whisper, cautious of your sleeping daughter. Looking up at Nico, you admired his features, his moustache growing more prominent as you insisted he regrow one after the month of November, and his tired but soft eyes looking at you. 

“Amazing, Ivy’s reactions made my whole world.” He smiled with excitement as he recollected his thoughts from today’s events. 

Before you could respond, his face nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent, his facial hair tickling your face and earning a giggle from your lips. You lightly push away from Nico, placing a kiss on his jawline before he laid on his back and you hovered over him. 

“You can’t say anything yet, and you’ll find out soon,” you whispered, “but, Lauren’s pregnant… she told me today.” You said through a smile, having to bite your lip to prevent yourself from making any noises of excitement. 

Nico’s eyebrows raised, eyes widened and mouth slightly fell open in surprise, “no way, good for them.” He smiled before he paused for a moment, looking like he was trying to gather the words to say something else. 

“What?” You encouraged softly, giving him a slight pout. Nico’s hand reaches and meets your hip again, slipping under your shirt to run his hand up and down your back. 

“Nothing, well–” he pauses, almost looking nervous, “it can’t help but make me want to have another one.” He states, earning a shocked expression on your face in return.

“Really?” You clarify and he responds with a nod. 

“Maybe not right at this moment, but I’d love to give Ivy another sibling or two. I want nothing more than to make a family with you and now that we’ve started, why stop?” He proposed. Your heart melted hearing those words fall across his lips, so much that words could not describe how you felt. You plant a slow, intimate kiss on Nico’s lips, Nico inhaling sharply through his nose at the contact before melting under you. 

You pull away, your breathing hitched. 

“So I take that as a yes?” Nico offered through a laugh, and nothing else would be a sufficient response other than bringing your lips to his again, nodding your head in agreement at the offer. 

Oh, how the Christmas season brings an array of holiday surprises. 

[cevansbrat0007]

Off the Market

Summary: Ari learns that you're not the sharing type. Which is fine by him, because neither is he.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Jealous/Possessive Reader, Oral Sex (mentioned), Discussions of Public Sex, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Polite Fat Shaming, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Be sure to check out the follow-up fic, A Man Starved. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

“So?” You ask before taking another sip of your milkshake. The thick and creamy treat goes down easy, which makes the amount of time it took to get to you well worth it. “What’s the verdict?”

“Not bad.” Your companion mumbles as he eagerly gulps down his own shake. “Not bad at all. But just so we’re clear, drinkin’ one of these isn’t gonna get you out of our deal.” He stirs the drink with his straw before plucking out the cherry and popping it in his mouth. “Remember you swore on it.” He holds up his pinky finger as a reminder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar.” You tell him as a smile flits its way across your lips. Without thinking, you go to feed him your own cherry. You find yourself giggling at the way he playfully nips at your fingers, his tongue lapping at the traces of whipped cream. 

There went your big Beast of a man proudly living up to his nickname, as per usual. Thank goodness you were the only couple dining outside today.

“Hey. How come yours tastes better?” Ari pouts suddenly, sending you into another fit of giggles.

“We got the exact same thing, honey.” You roll your eyes at him before returning your attention to the menu in your hand.

“Bird?” His growl comes out soft and silky. And it immediately has you on high alert. Because you recognized that tone. 

It meant you were in trouble.

“Um, yes?” You try ducking your head behind the oversized, laminated piece of paper. Maybe if he couldn’t see you anymore, he’d just let it ride.

“Did you just do what I think you just did?” 

“Well, I suppose that depends on what you think I just did.” You sneak another sip of your chocolate shake, doing your best to forget about all the extra unnecessary calories you’re putting into your body right then. After all, you and your man had a deal. And you aimed to see it through. 

“I think you just rolled your eyes at me.” Ari rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward on his arms in an attempt to get your attention. “Now, just because I gave you a pass back the boutique–”

You blow out an annoyed breath. “That wasn’t my fault! You kept making me model the most ridiculous pieces for you, even when I knew they wouldn’t fit.” You peek out from behind your menu long enough to scan the area for Stella, your waitress. Of course she’s nowhere to be found. 

Which, oddly enough, was fine by you. There was just something about the woman that seemed to ruffle your feathers a bit. Although you couldn’t quite put your finger on the reason why. 

“Except they did fit.” Your bounty hunter surprises you by yanking the menu from your grasp. He then tosses both yours and his onto a nearby empty table. “And maybe if you would’ve allowed me into the fitting room with you earlier, we could’ve scored you another bathing suit. I still think we should go back for that sweet little black and white number. That ass was made for it.”

“It was too small. Just like the other ones.” You counter, feeling your cheeks heat at the intimate praise. The burn only intensifies when you recall the way he’d simply let himself into the fitting room after you’d vetoed your third bathing suit. It had been his pick, which meant he felt that he was well within his rights to, as he put it, “see for himself”.  

One Hour Earlier

“Baby.” He said, chuckling softly. “If a woman expects a man to wait outside and do it patiently, then perhaps she ought to give him a little show.” When you balked he’d simply shrugged and picked up an ice blue monokini before handing it over to you, silently demanding that you try it on. With him right there in the flippin’ fitting room. 

And he hadn’t felt the least bit compelled to help preserve your modesty by looking away as you’d changed. Instead, he’d had the gall to take a seat in a chair that was tucked away in a corner.

“This is completely inappropriate!” You hissed, clutching the forgotten suit to your chest. “Wh–what if someone comes by?” 

“Then I expect you’ll have to be quiet then, won’t you?” He held a finger to his lips, playfully shushing you. “That way it stays our little secret. Now, how about you model the pink one for me?”

“I’ll model whatever you want once we get back to your place.” You tried, your entire body had been practically vibrating with embarrassment. 

“Nah. I’m afraid that ain’t gonna work for me.” Ari had leaned back in his chair then, leisurely crossing his long legs over his ankles. “See, this Beast of yours is itchin’ for some instant gratification.” He’d locked his fingers together before resting them on his firm stomach. “And I ain’t leavin’ until I get it.”

“Guess we’ll be in here for a long time then, huh?” You’d responded rather snippily. “Because I’m not about to–”  

“You know, sweetheart, now that I’m thinking about it, I just realized you haven’t fed me yet today.” 

“I thought we were gonna grab a bite after..?” The knowing look that passed between you two had been enough to make you feel weak in the knees. “Umm...”

“You know how I get when you make me go too long without a taste.” His piercing blue eyes had dropped to your (thankfully) still panty clad pussy. “I’m gonna need a fix, baby. And soon.” You’d watched him cup his impressive cock through the fabric of his jeans. “Otherwise I might start gettin’ antsy.” The silky purr of his voice alone had been enough to have your thighs clenching.

“Don’t – ooh! Behave yourself, damn you!” You’d done your best to ignore the way your core had spasmed with need. “There will be no funny business in this fitting room. You are not getting us kicked out of this store, Beast!”  

“But I’m hungry now. Starving actually.” He’d pressed, a wolfish grin spreading across his features. “And all I can think about is sinking to my knees and burying my face in that gorgeous pussy. Right here. Right now.” 

You'd watched as he rose from his seat, his big body crowding your smaller one. “Wanna taste all that sweet, wild honey of yours when you cum on my tongue like a good girl.” You’d also squealed none-too-quietly when he pinned you against the wall. 

And although the man had seen fit to warn you of his plan, you still hadn’t been prepared for his boldness. Even less so when he dropped to his knees in front of you, his nimble fingers tugging at the edges of your panties.

“Ari…” You'd breathed, rising on your toes to graze your lips along his bearded jaw. “We can’t. Not here. Patience, sugar.”

“Like I told you, I’m about out.” He’d responded on the heels of a groan. “But I might be able to find some more. Maybe. But only if…”

“If what?”

“If you stay the night once we get back to Bell’s Creek. I wanna spend the rest of the evening getting all tangled up in you. Especially after I managed to work up such a sweet tooth.” Ari had brushed mouth over your covered mound, loving the way your nipples pebbled at his words - his touch.        

“I accept your terms.” You’d told him with a soft giggle as heat suffused your cheeks. “Now let me go so I can model these last few for you. It’s about time we get a move-on to our next stop -- no more kisses. Oh God, Ari! Be patient!”

“I’m not trying on another thing after I stuff my face, honey.” You mumble as you take another sip of your drink. “We’ll just have to come back another time. Plus, you’ve already spent more than enough on me.” 

“You’re worth it.” 

“You should’ve at least let me pay for half.” You start to protest, feeling uncomfortable with being doted on in such a way.

“Already said no. And you ain’t payin’ for lunch either, so you’d best not get that pretty mouth all twisted up to ask.” 

“How about we–” You find your conversation interrupted by the arrival of your waitress, Stella. 

“Hey, ya’ll!” She chirps as she comes around the corner, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her as she finally makes her way to your table. “Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. How are those shakes treating you, hm? Pretty good?”

“They’re great.” You and Ari respond at the same time. 

“I just knew you’d love ‘em!” She responds rather animatedly, her freshly manicured fingers lightly brushing over Ari’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice. But you do. Because it’s not the first time it’s happened. “Looks like you’re doin’ alright over there, handsome. Can I get you another one?”  

“No, thank you.” Your Bounty Hunter hums, his gaze locked on the menu as he works to make a final decision. “But I do think we’re ready to order.” 

“Yep.” You readily agree, even as your eye twitches. “We sure are.” 

Stella makes an innocent show of turning away from you, her gaze focused on Ari. “I bet a big, strapping fella like you would be interested in one of our steaks. Our beef is grass-fed and sourced locally. Which means it’s always fresh, never frozen.”

“Actually, I think we’re both gonna have–” You attempt to interject, only to be shut down without so much as a glance in your direction. 

“Did you happen to see our line of Skinny Gal Salads, buttercup? They come with all the flavor, but only half the calories. They’re listed on page two if you wanna take a gander while I walk your lovely friend here through tonight’s specials featuring our signature porterhouse.” 

Your waitress’ audacity hits you so hard you almost feel a headache coming on as an unexpected fury burns in your belly. A belly that could probably stand to benefit from one of those so-called Skinny Gal salads, but then again that would go against the deal you’d made last night.

Which involved you and your man enjoying a couple of worry-free milkshakes and bacon cheeseburgers. You’d promised that you would try to relax and not get so caught up in all of that internal calorie counting like you usually did.

So, like it or not, a deal was a deal and you aimed to see it through. Regardless of what your waitress had to say about it. And if the woman was smart, she’d take her hand off your man’s arm before something happened to it.

“Now handsome, did I hear you say you were visiting from Bell’s Creek?” Your waitress cocks her hip against the table while she ignores you in favor of cozying up to your Beast. “Because it just so happens that I have a friend there that I like to visit from time to time. Do you happen to know–” 

“Actually, I’ve heard amazing things about your barnyard cheeseburgers. So I think we’re gonna have two of those with bacon. Extra bacon. Please.” You tack on the last word, which is spoken through gritted teeth. 

Finally, Stella turns to you and offers a patronizing smile. “Can I interest you in a side salad with that, buttercup? It comes with a spritz of our homemade red wine vinaigrette.”

Ari sits back in silence, apparently content to watch whatever the fuck was transpiring between you and this bottle blonde heifer with a notepad. Which was fine. You were a big girl who knew how to take-up for herself when the situation called for it.    

“I want fries, sugarplum. But who knows, my friend might want one of those skinny ass salads to go with his meal. Does that sound good to you, baby?” While your eyes never leave hers, you manage to catch a glimpse of a smile from your companion. 

“I, uh, would also like fries.” He coughs. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh, which only serves to piss you off even more. “But thank you.”

“That’ll be all, honey.” You politely growl, snatching Ari’s menu from him before your waitress could use it as an excuse to touch him again. “We’ll let you know if you need anything else.”

“But you haven’t heard the specials.” Stella turns back to Ari, a soft pout gracing her plump lips. “It just might change your mind. You might find yourself wanting something…better.”

Oh, no the fuck she did not. Your man was fine with his choice. You. The burger. All of it. Be gone, bitch!  

“We’re good.” You snap, seething inwardly. “You couldn’t possibly have anything more special than what he’s already got goin’ on in front of him, right here. Right now.”

Your waitress stares you down, but you refuse to be the one to blink first. If your eyes gave up and fell out, you had faith Ari would collect them for you before safely guiding you home. Your man was a gentleman like that.

“I guess I’ll go ahead and get these orders in. Two burgers, heavy bacon, coming right up.” The smile she gives you now is much more brittle and it doesn’t meet her eyes. But you also can’t bring yourself to give a fuck.

This woman needed to remember to stay in her lane before you ran her off the road.         

“Thanks.” 

“Welcome.”

And then she’s gone. You find your glaring at her retreating form. You’re actually in the middle of fantasizing about what would happen if you took a pair of scissors to her annoying ass ponytail when you hear your name being called.

“What?” You snarl as Ari comes back into focus. And what the hell was he grinning about? Didn’t he realize that that pretty face of his was in slapping distance?

“You’re really something, baby.” He murmurs, his gorgeous blue eyes dancing with mischief. “You know that?”

“Meaning?” At the moment, you were in no mood for anyone else’s bullshit.

Ari leans forward in his chair as one of his big hands comes to rest atop yours. “I just meant…I’ve never seen you jealous before. It just surprised me a little is all.” He finishes with a shrug. “I didn’t expect for you to…to…”

“Didn’t expect for me to do what, Beast?” Your tone softens as you watch his head dip, his bearded cheeks tinged with red. He perks up when you give his hand an affectionate squeeze, flipping your positions slightly so you can lace your fingers through his. 

“Claim me.” 

Those two simple words are enough to send you reeling. Is that really what you had just done?

“It’s no secret that I like you, Bird. A lot.” His voice drops an octave as he works to explain himself. “Every time I see you, it’s like there’s something in me deep down inside me that screams mine. I guess I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way about me. Until now.” 

Was he being serious? Of course he was! This man had never struck you as the type to joke about any of this.

“I like you too, Ari. But what I didn’t like was watching our waitress flirt with you like I wasn’t even here. I almost fucked her up with my spoon for touching what’s mine.” Ari’s perfect teeth sink into his plush bottom lip, his nostril’s flaring as his mind works to process your admission.

“Say that again.” The command rumbles out from somewhere deep in his chest, compelling you to obey. “Louder”

“You’re mine, Ari Levinson. For today. Tomorrow. For however long this magical thing between us lasts – you belong to me.” You breathe, butterflies filling your belly. “You’re officially off the market, you got that?”

“I hear you, Bird. Loud and fucking clear.” The grin on his face soon proves to be infectious. “And you have no idea just how happy I am to hear you say that.” Ari opens his arms to you then, beckoning you forward.

The next thing you know, you’re up and moving before you’ve even registered what’s happening. All you knew was that your man needed you. Which meant you needed to go to him. Now.

“I always want you, Ari. Even when I shouldn’t.” You tell him as you gracefully slide into his lap, looping your arms around his neck as you do. 

“I know the feeling.” Ari murmurs, brushing his mouth over yours. “Which is why I want to do something special once we get back to Bell’s Creek. Before I have to leave again.” The startled look on your face has your Bounty Hunter rushing to finish his thoughts before you can verbalize your confusion.

“What do you–?”

“I’m only gonna be gone a few days, baby. Three, maybe four, tops.” One of his large, slightly calloused palms presses against the back of your neck, drawing you in closer to him so that he can take your lips again.   

“Oh.” Comes your lame reply.

“I’m coming back to you, Bird.” Ari rests his forehead against yours as you try to calm your racing heart. “You have my word. But I still wanna do something special for you – for us – before I go. Will you let me do that without a fight?”

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” Feeling content, Ari leans in to capture your mouth with his own once again. After behaving himself all day, it was time for his reward.

“Wait.” You place your hand on his chest, halting his advances. “You’re still mine wherever you go. I don’t care if it’s fucking Siberia.” You grab a fistful of his shirt, hauling him forward. “You’ll still be mine there too. You with me?”

“Fuck yeah I am.” Ari growls, using both of hands to cradle your face as he slants his lips over yours once again. The kiss is as passionate as it is raw. Your tongues dance together, both fighting for dominance. But this time your Beast lets you win.

Desire burns in your belly as you savor the sensual victory. You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging at the chestnut strands. Meanwhile, one of Ari’s hands goes to grip your hip, making you moan when he gently molds and kneads your curves. 

Jesus Christ! You suddenly felt as if you were wearing too many clothes. 

His lips skim along the column of your throat as you pant. You were always so fucking needy for him all the time. It made it almost impossible for you to resist him during moments like these.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t even bother to look up when you hear footsteps approaching. “Will these be separate checks or…oh.” You hear your waitress stammer as she tries to collect herself. “I’ll, um - I'll just bring the one.”

Ari briefly pulls away, eliciting a soft whine from you. “Thanks. And while you're at it, we’ll be taking our food to-go.” 

“Bye, Stella.” You giggle as you give a little wave before playfully nipping at his jaw, not even bothering to glance over at the other woman’s face. You knew it was petty, but staking your claim on this man in front of your so-called rival felt so damn good. Especially after a day like today.

Frankly, the only way it could get any better was if you could make yourself utter those three magic words – the same ones you’d been practicing in the mirror last night. But right now they simply wouldn't come. They kept getting stuck in your throat.

Oh well. Guess you’d just have to try again tomorrow.

END

Unofficial Tag List

@katymae12344

@daykrisr99

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@daykrisr99

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

[heeseungiez]

building keyboards! l.hs

pairing! lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis! in which you want to celebrate your one year anniversary with your boyfriend

genre! established relationship, fluff

word count! 1.2k

author’s note! i have been cursed by a keyboard obsession since before i even got into enhypen, so ofc i had to write something short and cute with heeseung

currently playing . . . highway 1009 by enhypen !

You met Heeseung entirely by chance. The two of you moved in completely different social circles, yet you somehow managed to find each other when it mattered the most. He was the popular guy on campus, whereas you were just a girl. A student trying to survive university life, juggling studying and a part-time job to keep yourself afloat.

The first time you met Heeseung was in the summer. After you managed to get through freshman year without failing a single class, you enjoyed your time off in a tech store, looking over different kinds of mechanical keyboards and computer components. You must’ve looked like an employee because Heeseung chose to approach you specifically to ask you a question about the new Keychron keyboards. And whilst you were not working at the store, you did know enough about the best, pretty affordable keyboards on the market. Including the new Keychrons. So you indulged him rather than telling him that you were not, in fact, working there.

Unbeknownst to you (he shared that later into your relationship), Heeseung continued going to the tech store during the summer in hopes of encountering you again, which was how he came to the conclusions that 1) you were truly not working there, and 2) he should’ve asked for your number.

It was only his luck that in the following winter semester, he happened to be a TA of one of the computer language classes you signed up for in your second year. He did not miss his chance to get to know you then, and the first time he asked you out was after the winter semester, when he was no longer the TA in your class.

It’s been a year since the two of you officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, and you got the most brilliant idea for how to celebrate your one year anniversary. It cost quite a good deal of money, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

When you knocked on the door of Heeseung’s dorm room with two large plastic bags in hand, you knew he wasn’t home. However, at least one of his dorm mates should be, which was proven to you when Jay opened the door.

He looked at you with furrowed brows, and before he could tell you that Heeseung wasn’t there, you stopped him with: “I know, he’s not here. That’s the point.”

You didn’t even wait for the man to invite you inside. Rather, you made your way past him, taking your shoes off and heading toward the living room area to place everything on the dining table they had.

“What exactly are you doing, Y/N?” Jay asked, standing in the hallway like a father of three children with his hands on his hips.

“Preparing a surprise for Hee,” you replied simply, unpacking your boxes with mechanical switches, keycaps, keyboard cases, brushes, lube (for the switches), foam, tape, switch and keycap pullers and many other items necessary for building and modding your own keyboard. Since Keychrons were Heeseung’s favourite, you mainly went for components of that brand, but you were personally a fan of Akko keyboards, so you sneaked in a few switches from them for more options, too.

“Are you planning to build keyboards with him?”

You hummed with a nod of agreement, grinning.

“What do you think?” You turn to Jay once you have everything set up on the table.

“That Heeseung’s a lucky bastard,” Jay murmured under his breath, and you giggled.

“So it’s good, right?”

“Duh.” Jay shook his head, staring at everything you prepared. “Are you trying to one-up him? ‘Cause I don’t think he can come up with anything better than this.”

You shrugged, smiling. “I don’t really care. Seeing him smile is all I need.”

Jay rubbed his face. “Lucky bastard,” he repeated again. “I’ll make sure he knows that.”

“You’re too sweet,” you said, checking the time. Heeseung should be home from his class in about fifteen minutes. You knew only because he had texted you the approximate time when he would get home after you told him you had a surprise for him.

“So sweet that I’m gonna get lost and leave you two here alone.” He nodded, going to his room to grab some things. “Just text me whenever you guys are done, so I know I can come home.”

“Sure, sure, will do,” you mutter while eyeing your work. Not that spreading miscellaneous keyboard components was hard work, but you were already fighting the urge to start building a keyboard without Heeseung here.

After Jay left, you were alone in the dorm room for about three seconds. Heeseung burst into the dorm room with his backpack hanging over one shoulder, eyes already searching for you since he probably ran into Jay on his way here.  

You smiled, watching him drop everything on the floor just to approach you.

“Surprise!” you exclaimed, pointing at the messy table.

Heeseung blinked at you, glancing between the keyboards and you in confusion. “What—”

“I have everything! And for modding, I have lube and foam and tape! Isn’t it awesome?” you asked, picking up each item you named.

Heeseung laughed at how innocently you said that despite its many possible meanings. Running a hand through his hair, he felt a swelling in his heart at the sight of your excited form over building keyboards. It was an interest you both shared, and he was eternally grateful for finding you over it every day. 

“You know—” he grinned, picking up the lube— “when you said you had a surprise for me, I didn’t think the only thing I’d be lubing today would be keyboard switches.”

You giggled, shrugging. “But you like it anyway, right?”

“I love it,” Heeseung said, grinning. “I love you,” he added, sitting down next to you at the table. “That’s what matters the most, right?”

Leaning toward you, he cupped your chin and connected your foreheads. You couldn’t stop smiling as your heart drummed in your ears, your whole body seeping with love for the man in front of you.

“I love you, too,” you replied, connecting your lips in a brief kiss. “But can we start with building our keyboards? I want to make mine sound creamy… or should I go for thocky? I can’t decide.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “I hope you know I don’t have much space in my room anymore.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.” You looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “Unless being able to play Twister in your room is a requirement.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “For the two of us? Might as well be.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you, and you lightly slapped his shoulders, your cheeks heating up.

“Shut up,” you mumbled. 

Heeseung giggled, capturing your lips in another, longer and much sweeter kiss. 

“Thank you for all of this, though,” he said after, pointing at the setup. “My surprise suddenly seems lame.”

“What is it?” You pouted, curiosity taking over you.

“I’d rather not say right now.” Heeseung shook his head. “Maybe you’ll find out later.”

“That’s so mean.”

tag list! @moonpri (send an ask to be added to the permanent tag list!!)

[special-agent-fiction]

The Cost of Silence

Full disclosure, I haven't written anything in literal years and I've never written for this fandom. And then this just...happened? I don't know what the plot is but I had to get it down.

The Cost of Silence - Thomas Shelby x Reader

For a man who bought silence with little thought to its cost, morally or financially, Thomas Shelby appeared increasingly concerned with how much it was going to cost him to hear your voice again.

Gifts had been arriving at Arrow House almost daily for a few weeks and each was met with the same disregard; a blank expression as you passed the newest Bentley parked on the drive, cold indifference to the clothes hanging in your wardrobe and an almost comical eyebrow quirk at an apparent sudden interest in art.

Today’s expensive gift was met with the same lack of interest as you closed the lid of the long red box that had become synonymous with a Shelby apology with a single finger and pushed it away from the pristine plate setting awaiting you in the dining room.

You cared little for the rows of diamonds that sat within the case. Cared less for the obvious displays of wealth that surrounded you. You were not born to be oblivious to the luxury that was your current life, years ago you would have ached for a mere glimpse inside the house you now resided in, but life in this increasingly gilded cage had numbed you.

You often longed to feel the soft notches of the table in Watery Lane as you ran your hand along the impressive mahogany piece you now ate at. Dreamt of the cobblestones under foot as you wandered the gravel driveway in twilight, longed for the ache of a day’s work in your bones.

Poverty was a strange thing to want, but with simplicity came an honesty that your life was currently lacking. You could not bring yourself to look him in the eye anymore, let alone share a smile.

You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you decided to silence yourself; couldn’t remember what atrocity had been the final straw. If anything, it had happened gradually, your voice ignored in family meetings, opinions disregarded as plans were formed, and so you began to hold back, bite your tongue and fade into the background of the life he had carefully curated in this countryside pile.

You knew it was irritating him. The thought brought a rare smile to your lips as he huffed softly from the doorway behind you, watching as your fingers skimmed past the new first editions in the library and landed on a well-worn, market-stolen title that you had brought to Arrow House when it was still new to you.

Words were not something you were able to find solace in in your life before here, your days were too busy to have the time to curl up and appreciate a book. Recently though they were you only companion in this cold house. He had noticed of course, he always notices. A newer, softer chair appeared in the parlour, a glistening tea set waited for you, the fire was stoked more frequently, and yet you remained on the hard, deep-set windowsill that offered you a glimpse at the outside world when your eyes tired of the page. Obstinance felt almost exhilarating these days.

The gifts changed from generically expensive to a more tailored selection; a new saddle, your favourite flowers planted under the bedroom window. And still you denied him. You kept your voice a murmur when talking to the staff, only laughed when he was away and refused to elaborate when questioned by visiting family.

It was noticeable now to anyone who visited the house. Family quirked an eyebrow when you walked away from meetings, their eyes flitting between you and Thomas as you sat silently through dinner, a low chuckle at their leader’s frustration. Thomas was a man who always won a battle of wills, and he was losing spectacularly.

And then he piqued your curiosity.

The office door left ajar when he had an important telephone call. Papers for the foundation you’d long planned to set up. Ledgers left open on the coffee table.

As much as you knew about how to irritate him, he knew about you. The bastard.

You stopped yourself many times; forced your hand down when reaching for a pen to jot a note in the margins of a memo, stopped yourself from adjusting a purposefully wrong number. It took everything in you not to help with the business you’d helped birth.

And then came the storm.

Gunmetal clouds filled the sky, the birds quietened, and thunder rolled in the distance. The drizzle of morning rain had dampened the estate, the heaviness in the air muffling all sound of life. When the first crack of lightening hit just outside the stable block you were already inside trying to soothe the enormous stallion that was an expensive new addition to the block.

You’d anticipated his jitters, had spent most of the afternoon gently grooming him, humming softly as he calmed. You thought you’d pre-empted the worst of it but even you jumped at the proximity of the bolt. You barely had time to register the piercing whinny or notice the beginnings of a rear-up before one leather clad hand was on the bridle the other sweeping you behind Thomas before he reached out to calm the steed. Your breaths were laboured as the horse calmed, your eyes wide as you watched Thomas whisper softly to the animal, its chest rising and falling in time with your own as you calmed simultaneously, Thomas’ soothing voice washing over both of you. It wasn’t the first time a horse had reared on you and wouldn’t be the last, it wasn’t the animal that spooked you it was the speed at which Thomas appeared. How long had he been loitering in the shadows of the stable block? Had he watched you lavish love on the beast he had bought as part of his apology accumulation?

You reached out to rub gently at the neck of your almost-trampler, eyes avoiding Thomas as you mirrored his actions, managing a brief nod at his question on your wellbeing. But for the first time in a while it wasn’t defiance that silenced you.

Gifts and gestures gave way to peaceful companionship. Where he had previously watched from the shadows and tried to elicit a response with baiting, he now stepped forward and joined your silence.

You walked together never sharing a word, rode side-by-side without comment, sat opposite each other with only fireplace crackles filling your evenings. You watched his eyes crinkle slightly as his nieces and nephews ran circles around the ground, watched his tight breath as he fought to keep composure on the telephone, smiled behind your book as he endured another ticking off from Polly. The office door stayed open, the flowers under your window bloomed and you remembered what made you want to share this life in the first place.

Throughout your silence, your morning routine had gone unchanged. Breakfast was often the only meal you and Thomas shared; the plate settings always formal in this grand room, letters gently set on a silver tray next to you and a newspaper ironed and folded next to his. This room had seen many a silent war between you both as you rejected gift after gift, unsaid words hanging heavily between you both, the house always gloomy in anticipation of the clash.

Yet this morning there was sunshine washing the dark floors as you descended the staircase. You could see blue skies in every window and hear the gentle movements of the staff as they worked. You entered the dining room to a familiar sight; Thomas reclined slightly, newspaper in hand, breakfast untouched. Your eyes landed on your assigned seat, danced over the freshly cut bloom sat in a silver bud vase and the absence of any other bribe at your place.

The jolt of surprise would be worth it, you decided. You would allow him the win. Afterall, you needed to rectify those ledger mistakes.

You fingered the soft petals as his usual greeting reached you, eyed the smudge of dirt on his shoe-tip for confirmation and took a breath.

“Good morning.”

In the end, it cost him nothing to break your silence. And that was the point.

[kii-nami]

WHITE COMET'S DESCENT | IL CAPITANO

You never state for what reason you are holding him back, but it is already obvious. The Commander of the Khaenri’ahn army went missing with one swift strike of the starbound ice. You don’t seem to think of people as disposable yet cannot bring yourself to warm the snake’s nest willingly. Thrain shares the sentiment: he has never been a fan of holding his enemies closer than his friends. And despite your peculiar character, this is definitely something Thrain cannot fault you for. Queen [Name] Einherjar is incapable of trusting even herself. He fears that one day it can become your downfall. He accepts the position with no hesitation, yet it does not save either of you from damnation.

CW: 7K WORDS; PART ONE OF TWO; FEM!MC; MADE-UP KHAENRI'AHN LORE; OCS MENTIONED; PART OF A WIDER GENSHIN AU BY ME AND MY FRIEND; THRAIN GET BEHIND ME THEY'RE BURYING YOU ALIVE

The rightful heir is beautiful even when drowning in the blood of the usurper king.

The crimson is dripping down your fingers like holy water, just like the unstoppable streams of stars that the royal astrologers love to blabber about so much. Not that Thrain cares for things like that, at least not right now.

Irmin’s decapitated head is on the table, and you’re occupying the seat of the Vinster King with the grace of inteyvat, silks swaying with your each move akin to the petals trembling under the lukewarm currents. His wife, stars save her soul, cannot find peace even in death, following her unwilling husband into eons of non-existence. The golden-haired youth, the one Irmin cracked the red skies and split the white stones for, stands to your right with nothing but a morose distaste woven into her silence. Yet it is directed not at you, the one who is stealing her heavy crown with one slash of a sharpened blade and two shards of glowing ice, but the last supper of those who stand against you.

She seemed so eager to please the king not so long ago yet now she denounces even the remains of the usurper who granted her the reign over the nation with little wits yet all the madness put behind his reasons. Where such defiance came from is unclear, even how this alliance she has with you came to be is uncertain, but it is not something he understands. Neither is he meant to. Thrain is a simple knight, despite the strenuous burden forced upon him by those higher than him. Deciphering things like these is better suited for the likes of Surtalogi or Vedrfolnir, incapacitated as he may be.

What Thrain is truly interested in is the blade carelessly dropped on the dining table, a misplaced butter knife amidst the finest porcelain. The sword, the one that was deemed forever lost amongst the thousands winds of time, is also painted the same crimson as the silks of your sleeves. Hundreds of cheap copies of it are floating around the markets, dozens of recreations worth a small fortune are gathering dust in the collections of the rich that just get richer. None of them come even close to the sheer power of the true Blade of Fólkvangr. It cracks and buzzes, sparks of lights sizzling like electricity, responding the each and every move of your chest. Inhale. Exhale. The banquet room is silent, fallen in a deep courtesy, everyone fears for their life.

“Rise, Khaenri’ah.” Your voice is even yet soft, and somehow, a stark contrast to your appearance, nonetheless.

Nobody moves except for you, as the golden-haired youth offers you her steady hand. Thrain does not pride himself in knowing much about poetry, yet the sentiment is there. Your fingers stain her palm with red, the remnants of the crimson moon glimmer in your eyes in the shape of a star long fallen. You wish for Khaenri’ah to rise, and so you do.

“You shall not bow any longer.” His heart hurts when he lifts his heavy head. All that is left of it is rushing to win a race that simply does not exist. The Blade hums the song of frostborn starlight, the lost souls yearn for something he could never truly grant them. Yet you, whoever you are and whatever your name may be; the one made of burning shards of shattered sky and the freezing rubble of broken stone; the one in the image of the marble still polished, you can. And you will.

“This torturous eon of suffering has finally come to its end and now it’s time for you to seize the freedom that has been taken from you by the Vinster King’s rule.” The rightful heir is as well versed in the way of the word as she is in the way of the bloodshed. Next to him, a blonde Æsir woman stares up at you with a masterfully hidden horror, given away only by the tremble of her wet lashes. Tense palm on the small of her back, Surtalogi is uncharacteristically solemn. “The walls must be broken. The ties must be restored. Khaenri’ah must become whole again. The sun shall rise above our heads and drown our lands in light. For I, [Name] Einherjar, am your rightful queen.”

Well-polished marble indeed. The dull ache of his all-inviting heart never goes away even after the crowd accepts a new monarch with a bit more hope than yesterday. The king is dead, long live the queen. Or however it goes.

Maybe he should start this new chapter by reading some more poetry.

Queen [Name] of the House Einherjar, the Second of Her Name, Supreme Sovereign of Khaenri’ah, trusts no one despite appearing as if she trusts all.

Surtalogi has been staring at the parchment in his hands for a little while now. Enough for Thrain to understand that nothing good would come out of it, not that he faults the man for being apprehensive. Despite not actively participating in the conversation or being asked to voice his opinion, this meeting – the first of many tiresome discussions of the nation’s future with its greatest of minds present – has been long and taxing on both soul and body. Even the reason for acquiring a place at this table remains a little vague at best, yet he stays seated. Orders are orders and Thrain is not yet included in Khaenri’ah’s brightest constellation despite his tremendous responsibility.

“If I so may… There is a peculiar clause I cannot seem to wrap my head around.” When Surtalogi finally speaks, the tension snaps in the form of Lady Syn’s heavy sigh. The Æsir woman is not good with dealing with men having opinions, Thrain gathers easily. She is conservative in her beliefs, and you allow her to be; the thin line between reparations and indulgence is never crossed and something tells him you agree with most of her sentiments, anyway. “You titled my future wife a princess, yet you state none of her children can inherit the throne. It seems rather… discriminating… to exclude her this way, don’t you think?”

Surtalogi is careful in choosing words, especially in the presence of the leader of a rebellious faction that just happens to be that aforementioned future wife’s maternal aunt. You have gathered quite a circle around yourself, and the voices remind him that nothing in this world is a coincidence, but everything is destiny. Whether this fate leads you to ruin is another question entirely and Thrain wishes not to explore it. The new era only just began, and it seems as promising at the sunlight that a lot of god-defying refugees claim to miss. Neither you nor Syn seem perplexed by Surtalogi’s incriminating claims either, so why should someone like Thrain dwell on it any longer.

“This title is nothing but a meaningless word. Saga is a princess in the same way Lumine is.” You state firmly. The scroll in your grasp snaps closed, the golden-haired youth – Lumine – reaches to remove it from the table entirely. She still doesn’t mind being robbed of authority, if anything, she looks relieved by it being taken off her palms. “She is a princess by her good deeds and gracious nature, yet there is nothing about her or her blood that is strong enough to hold the weight of the Bough.”

“That is not what he asked, my lady.” Something about Vedrfolnir’s lack of accountability is unsettling, but Thrain can only guess that playing the role of a blinded prophet for so long strips one off their sense of self-preservation entirely. “If something were to happen, who would be the next in line to inherit your will? Should this not be a pressing matter?”

Under the sparkling rain of diamonds covering your face, you smile, “Am I expected to die soon, Vedrfolnir? Since you seem to be so worried about my ability to produce an heir.”

Thrain can never discern whether you take things seriously or not, the sheer coat of frost forbids everyone from seeing the you that is authentic. Or maybe he is simply way too guarded and is looking for something that isn’t there to begin with. Thrain is not the one for political games and the court intrigue, that is not what he signed up for entering the Khaenri’ahn military. Yet just like with poetry, with being invited here he guesses he must start learning.

“No, no, that is not what I meant.” Vedrfolnir is quick to dismiss your – however faux they may be – worries. Or smooth out a vague threat he made on your life with pleasantries; Thrain is yet to pick which one is more scandalous.

No matter that royal conspiracies, Syn’s patience is as frail as it is fleeting, so it blows up quite loudly and echoes for far too long, “Then you should stop questioning your queen. This is a matrilineal monarchy, not a democracy.”

Surtalogi has a way of speaking over his soon-to-be-wife in a style that is almost endearing, if it wasn’t for the fact that she is yet to voice her own opinion on the matter. And Khaenri’ah is indeed a matrilineal monarchy. At least it used to be before Irmin usurped the Bough from its rightful barer. And now that the crown is back home, there is nothing stopping you from reverting back to the old world if you so wish.

Despite having all the rights to, however, the newly crowned Princess doesn’t appear to mind such a transgression. And Thrain knows little of Saga Trygg. She is as cautious as she is protected; and despite finding the woman quite pleasant, something tells him it’s better to keep his distance. Nothing good can come out of mingling with the Bough and its thorns.

“Lady Syn, with all due respect, don’t you find it humiliating?” This time Surtalogi is direct and open with his accusations.

You still do not pay him any mind, the diamonds of your overly complicated headpiece glimmer with the identical glow as that of the Holy Blade. Mismatched eyes catch his gaze, your expression doesn’t change. You know something others don’t, that is what his heart tells him. And Thrain has collected too many a lost soul in the emptiness of his ribcage to doubt this premonition.

“I was the one to suggest this.” Syn spits with such ferocity, the red of her lips could be mistaken for blood. “The Bough must remain with the Einherjars, there is a million other ways to unite this nation.”

She is objectively correct, even someone like Thrain – so far removed from politics yet far too entangled in the remembrance of the past – knows that Khaenri’ah can only thrive with the blood that fertilized the soil for the inteyvat to bloom. No technological progress could save the nation from damnation of soul and corrosion of memories, as it is slowly being swallowed by the abyss.

Those unworthy can never get to the Plane of Fólkvangr. And they all have been unworthy for centuries. For so long, in fact, that even Irmin’s hopeless wife – your unfortunate mother you have slain with your own hands – could not summon the Blade and slice open the fabric of time and space to visit the land of the dead even if it was her duty to do so.

All in due time and all with due fate. Maybe under your rule there would be no need for artificial ley lines forged out of human hearts. Maybe with the Bough finally home, everyone would be able to rest in peace, and not in the hollowness of his being.

Surtalogi frowns; as always, he is playing up his true emotional state with an exaggerated furrow of his eyebrows, “Not going to lie, Lady Syn, I feel a little hurt.”

The Æsir huffs, “I do not care for the feelings of men. You are all disposable and serve no purpose outside of your dick and balls.”

Lumine stiffens an amused scoff, the pinnacle of emotional expression coming from Irmin’s chosen heir. You simply raise your hand in a polite wave, reminding the woman where she is right now, “Lady Syn, please do be more tactful.”

“No place for tact in the throne room.” Despite her words, Syn does not interfere any longer. Simply crossed her hands over her chest, a disappointed shake of her head when she noticed Saga readying herself to speak.

“[Name], please answer his question.” Thrain has no clue what exactly she’s doubting. Whether it is your faith in her or the level of care you hold for her. Whatever it is, there is something more to this conversation than just a simple debate over a hypothetical untimely death of a new queen. And you know it. Orchestrated or not, there is something brilliant in a way everything plays out in a way you seemingly expect, “What is the purpose of naming me a princess yet not allowing my children to inherit the throne?”

The air cracks with a chilling wave of buzz, you get up from your chair. Step after careful step you stop right beside Saga and kneel before her. The Blade in your arm is glistening with a sheen of starlight. You ask for her hand with a silent motion, and she opens her palm readily. The troubled wrinkle between her eyebrows deepens. Alice and Gold cannot seem to stop arguing over semantics of magic related physics, and Skirk – ever the voice of reason – doesn’t rush to separate them this time around.

“If you truly desire the crown so bad, then may I offer you my life right now?” You ask, the sword hovering over Saga’s trembling hand. “You are the only one capable of spilling my blood, after all.” When you suddenly drop it, beside Thrain, Dainsleif winces. Everyone in this room knows what is about to happen, yet somehow the tension remains impossibly strained. As if transparent, the Blade of Fólkvangr falls right through Saga’s shaky palm, right through the marble floors of the palace and then emerges back at your side, fully tangible and real in your hold. Alice remains victorious: one can never reign over a concept that is not of their creation. “Otherwise, I shall live long enough for you to never need to carry a burden that your shoulders are incapable of withstanding, my most beloved friend.”

You get up on your feet, dusting the sheer tulle of your dress and silently stroll back to your seat, deeming this discussion finally over. A firm hand on your wrist, Vedrfolnir is extremely capable of pinpointing object’s location while being completely blinded under Irmin’s crazed commands. It is then that Thrain decides that no, the line must be drawn somewhere. He can appreciate the intricate poetry of dramatic irony yet if everything about royalty is akin to this, then he wishes to stay as far away from the courtroom politics as possible. Against his better judgment, Thrain will soon find out that his endeavor has proven to be unsuccessful the second he crossed the threshold of this room.

“You have always been so cold.” Despite the blindfold covering Vedrfolnir’s missing eyes, Thrain can almost see the mischievous glimmer lighting them up when the prophet smiles at you. “Do you not trust us, my dear?”

You dismiss the insubordination, arm limp in his hold and turn to look at the man through the hundreds of diamonds obscuring your vision. “On the contrary, I have all the faith in humanity.”

You too, choose your words with the extreme expertise of someone who was born into a lie and then decided to remain living in it. You may have faith in all of humanity, but you do not trust a single person in this room; that is what the voices tell Thrain is true. He does not doubt it even for a second.

Whether Vedrfolnir catches it is a question that Thrain does not care to reveal the answer to, however. Nor does Vedrfolnir himself seem to be interested in musing over your precise choice of vocabulary, instead opting for asking something else entirely, “Should I expect my brother to be promoted then, since you have such faith in us?”

“No, Twilight Sword must remain with the Royal Guard.” You reject a question – an offer, a suggestion, a statement, an order? – rather bluntly, “I shall appoint the new Commander today. Lady Syn is correct; Khaenri’ah is not a democracy.”

“Ah, how disappointing indeed.” An exaggerated whine falls from Vedrfolnir’s lips, although the smile he’s wearing turns a tad bit too sinister for a second, “Makes me wish to call for the last payment, darling.”

“Vedrfolnir.” You utter his name with the eons of exhaustion woven into your breath, yet complain you do not, “Anything you want, as promised.”

The prophet’s hold on you tightens, “I wish for something that is a one of many, yet also something that is one of a kind.” It is suited for a tortured fortune-teller to speak in riddles, yet the overarching theme of this conversation is a bit too thick right now and Thrain has half a mind to curse the peculiar ruby-eyed witch for snatching him from the training grounds just to forcibly tangle him into shadow politics.

For a fraction of a second you are silent in your musings. Beside Thrain, Dainsleif is as stiff as a board. Then you reach for Vedrfolnir’s face, palm warming his cheek, and press your lips to his. One second. Maybe five. However long for it to remain just on the line of barely appropriate. When you pull away, the crimson hue is bleeding all over Vedrfolnir’s mouth.

“My first.” You clarify offhandedly, noticing the confusion blossoming on the prophet’s visage along with the flush of embarrassment. “One of many, yet the one I could never replicate.” Then you laugh, unrestrained and unapologetic, yet the biting cold never leaves your vocal cords, “Or did you think I was going to promise you the rights on sharing blood with my firstborn daughter, Vedrfolnir?”

Vedrfolnir says nothing. Alice cackles as if woman possessed and grants herself departure even before you offer it to her. The Royal Mage, once discarded by the Vinster King yet welcomed back into the palace by your personal wish, heaves a heavy sigh of disappointment. Thrain cannot exactly pinpoint whether it’s Vedrfolnir’s audacity, your debauchery or Red Witch’s wickedness – maybe even all three – that has the old man lose his last wits. Not that it matters much in the grand scheme of things.

“If there are no further questions, you are dismissed.” Immensely glad to be allowed to leave, Thrain holds onto the exhale of relief for when he is away from the castle walls yet has no chance to. You stop him before he can even move his chair. “Except you, Sentinel Knight. You must stay.”

You never state for what reason you are holding him back, but it is already obvious. The Commander of the Khaenri’ahn army went missing with one swift strike of the starbound ice. You don’t seem to think of people as disposable yet cannot bring yourself to warm the snake’s nest willingly. Thrain shares the sentiment: he has never been a fan of holding his enemies closer than his friends. And despite your peculiar character, this is definitely something Thrain cannot fault you for. Queen [Name] Einherjar is incapable of trusting even herself. He fears that one day it can become your downfall.

He accepts the position with no hesitation, yet it does not save either of you from damnation.

Her Majesty finds solace in a routine that would make a demon god’s teeth rot.

It is not everyone who can brag about being invited to have tea with the Queen, yet Thrain doesn’t think you care much about the honor you’re extending to him. What you do care about is what the both of you can gain from those hushed meetings.

The first time Thrain enters your study, you offer him a seat at the small, low table that can only fit four people. It’s a specific seat, not the one opposite of you but the one to your left. Lumine, the ever-haunting presence, quirks a questioning eyebrow at your action; you say nothing. Deciding to not occupy the space to you right any longer, the golden-haired outlander departs quietly, leaving only the rustle of silks in her wake. A rook moves on its own. His knees are not as reliable as Thrain thought they were, as by the time you win – or lose – the game against yourself, his legs are completely numb, and each minuscule moment sends pins and needles right into his tense muscles.

The question comes before he can even weight the pros and cons of voicing it, “Do you often play by yourself, Your Majesty?”

You shrug, a light chime of diamonds of your dress echoes through the room, “Not many are willing to face the consequences of my loss.”

Thrain can’t help but think back to your one-sided game of chess now that you admitted your defeat with the ease of someone who has tasted it fresh far too many times. Checkmate. Utter devastation for your side of the board with not much left standing. He isn’t one for overdramatic sentiments, yet something about this specific time brings a solemn dryness to his throat.

And maybe you notice it as well, reaching for a teapot, “Tea?” There must be something on his face that gives away the absurdity of your actions for your smile to peek through the shimmering veil of your headpiece, “Maybe coffee? Alice said this drink is getting quite popular above ground.”

The obscenity of a queen offering to pour tea for her subject is not lost on either of you, yet you seem to find amusement in his inability to figure you out. In his ten years in the Khaenri’ahn military, Thrain got used to carrying out royal whims with swift precision. Failure meant being disposed, and nobody wished to die knowing there would be nothing left of them to remember them by.

You seem to value human life a lot more than the Vinster King did, despite your quick action to remove those who were still hesitant to part with Irmin’s ideals. But you’re also hard to grasp; you hide your face by heaps of diamonds and stars, you wrap yourself in the finest of silks and tulles, you do anything to separate yourself from the world you clearly cherish so dearly.

Thrain guesses that it’s only fair: your wisdom may be far beyond that of an average person and the distance you are willing to cross for the prosperity of the nation seemingly has no limit, but you are still young. The same age Thrain himself was when he so foolishly gave up his life for the king. Naïve and gullible, Thrain’s twenty-year-old self thought he would be doing good by this country. Now ten years later, disillusioned and jaded, heart far too full and head far too misty, he understands how much of a fool he has been.

In hindsight, it was fairly obvious that Khaenri’ah had been exploited by Irmin long before he turned his coup d'état into the rule of tyranny. For what exactly nobody would ever know, the usurper king took this knowledge with him to his grave. Not that someone as ordinary as Thrain should be privy to such revelations.

You, Thrain is sure, still know something that nobody else does. And this is precisely why you are so distrustful of everything. Thrain may not be a prophet, or a fallen star from a foreign world, neither is he a trusted handmaiden, nor an all-knowing witch, and definitely not the master of khemikhal arts, yet the artificial ley line of his heart seems to help him see what others don’t. When those in the shadows are still following the word of the late mad king, your chess board is preoccupied with a devastation far greater than any court conspiracy. Maybe that’s why you are constantly on the lookout for people you can put even a fraction of your trust in.

For once in his life Thrain is aware of the perils lying ahead, he is even given a convoluted warning albeit with no clear sign of what kind of danger he is getting himself into. Mysterious you may be, but your soul is honest, and your intentions are pure. If death is inevitable, it’s better to die for the liege who stands side by side with you in battle than the one who only dictates whichever hand you should swing your blade with.

“Tea.” He took a little too long to answer so it sounds more like an order than a request. Someone else would have already had his head on a silver platter. Your puzzling smile under the veil of stars only keeps growing. Yet as lenient as you may be, Thrain must fix himself before the Red Witch has any more material to use against him, “If that is not too bold of a request.”

You wave him off, “Oh, never. I must warn you, however…” You pour the drink in the two matching cups, offering one to him gently. “My tea is not for the weak.”

The liquid is deep red, almost black, and the scent that fills the room is not something Thrain has ever experienced in his life. Your words of caution are taken into account, yet Thrain can’t help but doubt them. Unless it’s poison, there is little a man like him cannot stomach. And something tells him you are above working with poisons. If you were, the Vinster King would have wound up dead long before you had to battle your flesh and blood for the key to the underworld.

Legs still numb and a strange tingle in his fingers, Thrain lifts a cup to his mouth. The sweetness hits him before his body can process the pleasant aroma of this deathly concoction. You seem unfazed by this honeyed herbal water solution, however, indulging in it even. Eyebrow raised in a silent question, you’re waiting for his reaction with way too much mirth pooling in the light of your mismatched eyes.

“It’s quite…” he hesitates. Lying to you isn’t something Thrain wishes to do and disrespecting Her Majesty’s peculiar tastes does not spell a very bright future in most case scenarios. Unless, of course, you’re testing him in some convoluted way. Thrain isn’t made for court intrigues, neither is he a master of word picking. But it’s getting progressively more obvious that you wish for him to learn. “Unhealthy tasting.”

“Indeed.” You agree, satisfied and not even the slightest bit offended. Then you down the scorching liquid in one swift gulp, gaze searching for something Thrain isn’t sure you can find on his person. Yet you do, “If you come again next week, I promise to ask for less sweetener. Would you?”

Thrain nods, being difficult for the sake of doing so, “The will of the Queen is the will of the nation.”

“That is not what I asked.” You quip, placing your empty cup back on the tray and beginning to rearrange the chess board once again.

Thrain knows, but the only way to evolve is to mimic. You are a master of khemia, you should understand that better than anyone. “If some free time presents itself.”

Diamonds scatter around the floor in a heap of dying stars. Your face, not obscured by the shadows of light, is still glazed with a thin layer of ice. The white pawn moves on its own. “Care for a game then, Commander?”

Thrain never finishes the tea, but you do it for him. If there was poison in it, then it was made of your own blood, and you have bled so much over the years that it simply cannot faze you anymore. The ache in his chest won’t seem to go away, however. It must be the phantom of memories long gone from souls long lost.

What else could it possibly be?

This tradition continues as the years go by. The ice may not melt, but everyone who has grazed the warmth of your light knows that Her Majesty’s closest companions always walk the path in frosted stardust. Be it the loyal handmaiden with her glimmering delusion of your making, or the outlander from beyond with the light glowing at the tip of her blade. Even Thrain himself learns to accept the gnawing buzz of enigmatic power stored inside his modified heart.

In hindsight, he should have known that your interest in him was never all that simple. However, Thrain is yet to decide whether he is worthy of the knowledge you bestowed him with or not. It is not an easy task to use the power which was unfairly ripped away from someone far more deserving of it, after all. You, despite his doubts, make it all seem so easy; turning his soul-tearing dilemma into a simple question of do or don’t, will or won’t.

You say not using it is nothing but potential wasted, an opportunity missed. Letting the power forced upon him by Irmin’s finest khemists rot in the depth of his chest is nothing more than a memory slowly fading into obscurity. And someone like you and him have no right to forget.

The dull grey of the glaciers of his making is far kinder to the touch than Thrain anticipated, it is also quite a useful tool in mundane tasks like cooling his freshly brewed tea. It lost most of its sweetness a long time ago, and you learned to adapt by dropping copious amounts of honey into your own teacup. A big step for you, considering he found out the hard way just how unwilling you are to accept change. Two years in, and you are yet to change your seat or let Thrain occupy any other space except the one you offered him on the day he entered your study for the first time.

It is in this very spot that Thrain also learns that each and every of your presumably illogical actions guided by your whims alone, is carefully planned years ahead of time. For better or for worse.

You drop the king back on the board, breaking the rules and forfeiting the game. Thrain, startled by your sudden action throws a curious glance your way but you bring your silk-covered finger to your lips to shush whatever question is boiling in his mind. Then you put your headpiece back on and you wait. The king is floating above the board, shimmering with a transparent sheen of rime.

The door opens without a knock. Vedrfolnir, Thrain learns extremely quickly, has a peculiar habit of thinking he owns your personal space. Maybe you’re given the prophet a tad bit much hope, maybe the years of confinement have sent him spiraling into insanity. Whichever it is doesn’t really matter, it will never change the fact that Vedrfolnir allows himself things far out of his league.

“Have you been playing by yourself all this time, my dear?” Hand on your bare shoulder, Vedrfolnir stops to your right, easily avoiding the spot you reserved for Lumine as if he can see it. You do not spare the prophet even a glance, the white king takes its place on the board. A black rook catches flight. “I know my darling baby brother is not quite on par with Khaenri’ahn grandmasters, but I thought you were at least willing to count on me to keep you company.”

“Good evening, Vedrfolnir.” You murmur, palm on your chin, seemingly deep in thought. “What is it that you need this time?”

The mad fortune teller doesn’t waste any time dropping to his knees beside you. He leans closer to your side, hand sliding along your shoulders until it finds its resting place on your other forearm, and you are locked in some convoluted version of an embrace with your back pressed tightly to his chest, “Reconsider.”

Thrain isn’t sure whether Vedrfolnir is simply that shameless to act upon his whims in the presence of another person or simply does not consider the Commander of Khaenri’ahn army a man worth acknowledging. Not that Thrain would be surprised if it were to be both of those.

“No.”  You wave Vedrfolnir off like a pesky fly.

Face hidden in the crook of your neck, Vedrfolnir’s voice is muffled by the volume of your hair, “You are making a grave mistake.”

“You have exhausted your three wishes, Vedrfolnir. Should have been more careful with words.” You chastise the prophet as if he was a child. Thrain doesn’t blame you for doing so: Vedrfolnir, despite his reputation, has always been rather quick in throwing temper tantrum if something wasn’t going his way. Which wasn’t often, yet when it rains, it pours. And by the looks of it, a reminder of whatever defeat Vedrfolnir tasted the time you gifted him your first kiss hit too close to home.

“If Lady Syn wishes to have connection to the crown so bad, then why did you deny Saga the right of inheritance?” A shameless whine, strained fingers digging into the exposed skin of your forearm. You take it all in stride, the glacier star that you are. The game continues, Vedrfolnir’s patience is steadily evaporating, “Why sell yourself to a man you do not love? We both know you would live a miserable life. You need someone–”

Your laugh interrupts Vedrfolnir’s manic blabbering. He lifts his head from your shoulder, watching you with his missing eyes. You glance back at the prophet: from the blindfold to the nose to the pout on his lips. Then you sigh, the pawn finds its place on the chessboard.

“He is a man of a formidable character. Easy on the eyes too. I can learn to love him.” You press your finger to the flushed skin of Vedrfolnir’s cheek, gliding your thumb along his jaw until you reach his mouth. “We both know I do not care for the trivial matters of the firsts.”

Everyone knows you do not. That is why Vedrfolnir stills, breathless and motionless. He is so still, in fact, Thrain would have mistaken him for a statue if it wasn’t for the fact that the prophet was so easily flustered by shameless behavior as long as it is you who is being obscene. You don’t let anything escalate beyond the grasp of your control, however, so you push Vedrfolnir away with the same hand that has been holding his face so tenderly not even a second ago.

Your action wakes the prophet up, it looks like. Reevaluating his behavior and approach, Vedrfolnir gets up on his feet and steps away from your personal space, dusting some invisible particles from his clothes. “You will regret it, [Name].”

“I know.” You don’t argue, simply show him to the door with an absentminded wave of your hand. The diamonds clink when you do so, the stars keep falling along with the fabric of your long sleeve. “You should leave now. I have a game to finish.”

Vedrfolnir clears his throat awkwardly, defeated yet not a little bit ashamed, “Don’t stay up too late, darling.”

You huff, almost amused, “Be careful, Vedrfolnir. You call me that so often one might think you’re in love with me.”

The prophet turns on his heels and makes his way to the door, not even once turning to cast his empty gaze at you for the last time, “I wouldn’t dare to fight for your divine hand, my dear. It would break my poor brother’s heart in two.”

The door clicks shut. You sit in silence for a little while even after Vedrfolnir’s footsteps have long faded into nothing. Your expression, veiled by stardust and tulle, is frozen over and doesn’t truly melt away for the rest of Thrain’s stay in your study that evening. Not knowing what to do with himself, Thrain watches the tea in your cup freeze and then melt back into lukewarm concoction of herbal water and honey.

You groan, a tad bit too dramatic and out of character, but Thrain can’t ever claim to know you fully. Not when Alice is fond of saying you are prone to hysterical temper tantrums when your inventions don’t succeed in fulfilling their purpose on your first try. He isn’t sure if you know that the Red Witch is spreading what seems to be confidential information around, or whether those rumors are even true in the first place, but the annoyed huff that escapes your crimson lips says a lot about validity of Alice’s claims.

Despite your stoicism and ability to handle whatever Vedrfolnir throws his way, you are not immune to all poisons.

“He did not sense my presence.” Thrain mentions casually; a nice, easy way to switch the topic from your impending engagement to Lady Syn’s younger brother but not good enough to distract you from whatever it was that Vedrfolnir was implying by bringing up Dainsleif as his secret weapon. Not yet a master of picking and choosing words, Thrain must own up to his mistakes, “He must be quite troubled with your love life.”

“It appears so.” You shrug, the frost not fully melted but the semblance of a smile curves your lips into an oddly mysterious expression. Then you give him a good once over, from head to toe, lingering on his lap for a while. “How convenient.”

You gently pat the pillow you are sitting on, beckoning Thrain to check under his seat. There is nothing under the pillow, and Thrain finds himself almost disappointed by the revelation. You shake your head when he looks back at you, sliding the glove of your hand silently. He follows your instructions, repeating his search until the tips of his fingers graze a thin indent of missing marble, lines precise and delicate. Vedrfolnir may be blinded, yet he sees beyond the realm of what a human eye can perceive. Elemental energy, memories, the power of human will. Whatever those runes do, you found a way to do what even Irmin couldn’t accomplish and blinded the prophet once and for all. Terrifying, yet hauntingly admirable, nonetheless.

Her Majesty truly trusts no one, but the way you share this secret with him means way more to Thrain than he is willing to admit. Maybe it’s fine to cross some lines once in a while. He never truly liked staring at you just to catch the woman under the wall of glowing ice, anyway.

“The madman seemed to get under your skin at last.” Thrain cannot deduce whether his observation offended you or not, but you were never the type to get insulted by the truth.

“I love him, for I can’t see him.”  You admit casually, never specifying who you are talking about or what exactly you mean by that. That is as much as you are willing to give and Thrain isn’t even sure he should know any of that. He did ask, so he must own up to it once more.

“I am not sure you see anything behind those stones.” A clumsy joke lands surprisingly well, considering sometimes his tongue is Thrain’s greatest enemy.

Eyes closed, and shoulders less stiff, you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand. Your laugher has a tinge of sorrow to it, and it only dies when you drop your hand on your lap and gaze at him through the veil. “I am glad, Thrain.” You admit all of a sudden, a hushed whisper uttered like a secret.

“About what, Your Majesty?” Your eyebrows furrow at the mention of your title, as if you have forgotten who you are.

Thrain, for better or for worse, memorizes this knowledge to carry it with him far into the future. You were never fond of titles, or maybe everyone around you just never got used to using them. Despite it being years, Thrain cannot confidently call himself your friend just yet, neither has he dared to assume you wish for him to do so. Now, however, it seems like things are changing. They always do whenever you are involved.

“That it is you they chose.” Your eyes are focused on Thrain’s heart, or whatever is left of it after Rhinedottir finished butchering his flesh.

Somber and wistful, your gaze is full of longing. You have lost your childhood, your forgotten past, your unlived present and your possible future, all of your dreams yet to be dreamt. Thrain lost but a heart, yet gained something that, in a way, is far greater than a soul of one simple mortal man. You once mentioned how all in this life is a matter of equal exchange. To gain something you must give something up first. So what have you gained from losing the will that could rival even this world?

The glowing device on your hip doesn’t appear to come even close in terms of fair trade. And yet… “I see nobody better suited to carry out my will after I can no longer sustain the Plane of Fólkvangr.”

You always have a way of making things go as planned, choose your words carefully, treat your creations with utmost care. Yet Thrain can never forget the first time he saw you play a game of chess against yourself. Your defeat is inevitable. Whichever way you go, no hope remains for you at the end.

“This implies you plan to part with this life before I do.” Thrain voices his concern with a level of steadiness that astounds even himself.

“We can never foresee the fate that those fake stars have given us, Thrain.” You don’t dismiss him or dispel his unease. You are nothing but honest and somehow it is far worse than any lie you could have given him. “But we should know better than anyone that the winds of time are the most unpredictable.”

Your gaze shifts. Thrain follows your line of sight with the caution of a soldier thrown into the raging battlefield completely unarmed. He is right to do so.

For the first time in 2000 years, the skies of Khaenri’ah burn deep crimson once more.

[th3mrskory]

Chapter 5: Bridging the distance

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!LoganWarning: none. Just fluff, but the slow burn is starting to burn a little faster.

Word count: 7.3k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting warm hues over the cottage as Evelyn wiped her hands on a dish towel for the fifth time. The small dining table was set with mismatched plates, a modest bouquet of wildflowers sitting in a glass jar at its center. She stared at it for a moment, chewing her lip. Did it look too formal? Too casual? Did he even care? Her stomach twisted with nerves as she double-checked the food. The roast looked decent, the vegetables hadn’t burned, and the dessert—something simple—sat cooling on the counter. It wasn’t about impressing him. Not really. She just wanted him to feel… welcomed.

As the rumble of Logan’s truck echoed up the driveway, she caught her reflection in the window—hair slightly tousled, cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen. She smoothed her hands over her shirt and exhaled deeply, steeling herself before opening the door.

Logan hesitated before stepping out of the truck. The soft glow of the cottage’s windows spilled into the dusk, the warm light a stark contrast to the cool night air. He’d spent all day convincing himself that this was just dinner—nothing more, nothing less. But standing at her door, he felt the weight of his own expectations settle heavily in his chest.

The door swung open, and there she stood, her eyes meeting his with a nervous smile that somehow made his pulse stutter. “Hey,” she said softly, stepping aside to let him in. “Evening,” he replied, the deep timbre of his voice filling the small entryway.

The scent of roasting herbs and something sweet wafted through the air, mingling with the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. He took it all in—the table set with care, the way she’d clearly put thought into every detail.

“Hope you’re hungry,” she said as they settled at the table, gesturing to the spread. “Smells good,” Logan said, his voice low but sincere.

The meal started with polite conversation—updates on the cottage renovations, small talk about the weather, and light teasing about Logan’s persistent tendency to do things without asking for thanks. “You know,” she said, pointing her fork at him, “you’ve practically rebuilt half the house by now. I should be naming rooms after you or something.” Logan smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Just doing what needs doing.”

As the conversation unfolded, the tension began to ease. Logan’s baritone laughter rumbled softly at her recounting of a mishap at the market, and she found herself leaning into his quiet presence, the ease of his company settling over her like a blanket.

After dinner, they lingered in the living room, sipping tea as the fire crackled in the hearth. Logan sat on the edge of the couch, his broad frame relaxed but still carrying that quiet intensity she’d come to associate with him.

She hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been thinking about… everything you’ve done for me. The repairs, the firewood. Dinner was the least I could do, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.” “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied, his tone even.

Her gaze flicked to his, the firelight dancing in her eyes. “Maybe not. But I still want to say thank you—for all of it.”

Logan didn’t respond immediately, his brow furrowing slightly as he held her gaze. She could see the question there, the silent wondering if she meant more than the words she was saying.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up that day,” she added softly, her voice wavering just enough to betray her vulnerability.

The silence stretched between them, charged with unspoken tension. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

And then, without fully thinking it through, she leaned forward.

Her hand brushed his, tentative but deliberate, and when he didn’t pull away, she closed the remaining distance, her lips pressing softly against his.

For a moment, Logan didn’t move, as though caught off guard. Then, his hand came up to rest gently against her jaw, his touch firm but careful, as though afraid of breaking her. The kiss deepened slightly, their breaths mingling in the warmth of the firelight.

But just as quickly as it had begun, she pulled back, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“I—” she started, her voice trembling. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Logan’s eyes searched hers, his hand lingering just long enough to make her heart skip before he let it fall back to his lap. “Don’t apologize,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “Not for that.”

“I’m sorry if I—” “You didn’t,” he interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. “I just…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I didn’t have to,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I wanted to. I just—” She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I’m scared.”

Logan nodded slowly, his expression softening. “That makes two of us.”

They sat in the quiet for a while, neither rushing to fill the space. When Logan finally stood to leave, Evelyn walked him to the door, her emotions a tangled mess of uncertainty and something dangerously close to hope.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, his voice low but genuine.

“Thanks for coming,” she replied, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile.

As he stepped out into the night, she watched him go, her heart still racing from the kiss and the unspoken promise it seemed to carry.

______________________________________________________________

The soft light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, pulling Evelyn from a restless sleep. She lay still for a moment, her mind already swirling with the memory of the night before. Her fingers brushed her lips instinctively, as if they could still feel the ghost of Logan’s touch.

Why had she kissed him?

Her chest tightened as the question lingered. She sat up slowly, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring at the faint embers glowing in the hearth. It wasn’t regret she felt—it was confusion. Fear. And maybe, if she was honest with herself, hope.

The fear gnawed at her, though. She’d been here before—feeling something, letting someone in—only to watch it fall apart. Logan was steady, patient, and kind in ways that unsettled her because they felt too genuine, too real. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to let him in, let alone trust him not to leave.

She groaned softly, burying her face in her hands. “What are you doing, Evelyn?” she whispered to herself.

After a few minutes, she stood and moved through her morning routine. The fire needed stoking, the kitchen needed tidying, and the half-finished crochet vest she’d abandoned last night sat waiting for her by the window. The rhythmic click of her needles would usually calm her, but today, even that felt insufficient.

______________________________________________________________

Logan woke early, the cool air of his cabin doing little to shake the memory of her kiss. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated breath as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He hadn’t meant to rush things last night. Hell, he hadn’t even meant to kiss her. But the way she’d looked at him, her words so raw and honest, had tugged at something deep inside him. And now? Now, he wasn’t sure where they stood.

He shrugged on a flannel shirt and boots, determined to keep himself busy. The logging site would be a welcome distraction—or so he thought.

By the time he arrived, the other men were already milling about, their chatter filling the crisp morning air. Logan wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but his silence didn’t deter them.

“Morning, Howlett,” Pete called out, grinning as he hefted a bundle of tools. “You look like you didn’t sleep a damn wink.”

Logan grunted, grabbing an ax and slinging it over his shoulder.

Rick leaned against a nearby log stack, smirking. “What’s the matter? Got too much on your mind?”

Another chuckled. “Bet he’s thinking about her—you know, the pretty one with the cottage.”

Logan shot them a warning glare, his voice low and edged. “You’ve got time to gossip, you’ve got time to haul more logs.”

The men exchanged knowing looks but didn’t press further. Even they weren’t foolish enough to push Logan when his mood was this sour.

______________________________________________________________

Evelyn sat by the window, her crochet needles clicking softly as she worked on the vest. She’d chosen a deep green yarn, the color reminding her of the forest—the one place Logan seemed most at home.

It wasn’t just a gift. It was her way of saying thank you. For being there. For staying. For seeing her in ways she sometimes struggled to see herself.

When she finished, she held the vest up to the light, inspecting her work. It wasn’t perfect, but maybe that was fitting. Neither of them was perfect, but somehow, they worked.

She folded it neatly, tying it with a piece of twine, and attached a small note:

"For everything. Thank you. - Evelyn"

Her nerves buzzed as she drove to Logan’s cabin that evening. His truck wasn’t in the driveway, but the faint glow of a lamp inside told her he wasn’t far. She hesitated for a moment before setting the package on the porch and heading back to her truck.

As she drove away, she couldn’t help but hope he’d understand what the gift meant—what she couldn’t quite put into words.

______________________________________________________________

Logan returned home late, exhaustion tugging at his limbs as he stepped out of his truck. His eyes caught on the small package waiting on his porch.

He crouched down, picking it up carefully. The yarn was soft beneath his rough fingers, the note tied to it catching his eye. As he read the words, something stirred in his chest—an emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

Slipping the vest on, he immediately felt the warmth. Not just from the fabric, but from the thoughtfulness behind it. He ran a thumb over the note again before tucking it into his pocket.

She’d made this for him.

The thought stayed with him all night, a quiet reassurance in the face of the uncertainty lingering between them.

______________________________________________________________

Logan’s truck rumbled up the driveway, the familiar sound stirring a mix of anticipation and nerves in her chest. She opened the door just as he stepped out, and for a moment, her eyes caught on the green vest she’d crocheted for him. It fit snugly, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, and the sight sent an unexpected warmth curling through her.

“You’re wearing it,” she said, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

Logan nodded, his expression calm but genuine. “It’s good work.”

A smile tugged at her lips, her earlier hesitation melting away. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Anything need fixing today?” he asked, his hands tucked into his pockets.

She hesitated, suddenly self-conscious about how much she relied on him. But then she caught the faint softness in his eyes, and the words came more easily. “The pantry door’s been sticking, and the windows in the bedroom let in a little too much cold. If you have time.”

Logan gave a short nod, stepping past her into the cottage. “Let’s take a look.”

The warmth from the fire wrapped around them as they moved into the kitchen. She gestured toward the pantry door. His movements were deliberate, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

“It gets stuck right here,” she said, tapping the frame where the wood had warped slightly.

Logan knelt to inspect it, running his fingers over the uneven edge. “I’ll plane it down. Shouldn’t take long.”

As he set to work, Evelyn leaned against the counter, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. His hands moved with practiced ease, steady and deliberate, every motion efficient.

“You’re good at this,” she remarked after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence.

Logan glanced up briefly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Been fixing things my whole life.”

“Were you always a handyman?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Not always,” he replied, his tone cryptic. “Picked it up over time.”

She sensed there was more to his story, but she didn’t press. Instead, she grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” he said, his focus returning to the door.

The rhythmic scrape of the plane against wood filled the room as she poured the coffee. She set a steaming mug on the counter beside him, the warmth of her gesture unspoken but clear.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, pausing to take a sip before returning to his work.

As he worked on the pantry, she lingered nearby, sipping her coffee and stealing glances at him. There was something grounding about his presence—the quiet steadiness that seemed to fill every corner of the room.

By mid-morning, they’d moved to the bedroom, where a chill seeped through the worn frames of the windows. Logan inspected the gaps with a critical eye, his brow furrowed in thought.

“You’ll need weatherstripping,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I can patch it for now, but it’ll only hold until the next storm.”

“I’ll add it to my shopping list,” she replied, pulling a blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Unless you want to come with me to the hardware store next time.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “That an invitation?”

“More like a bribe,” she shot back, her tone light. “You know your way around tools better than I do.”

He huffed softly, a sound that might’ve been a laugh, and began securing the temporary patch.

As he worked, she busied herself folding a stack of crocheted blankets near the bed, stealing occasional glances at him. The way he moved, quiet but deliberate, filled the room with a sense of steadiness she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

“Do you ever take a break?” she teased, crossing her arms as he straightened from the window.

He gave her a sideways glance. “Not when there’s work to do.”

“Well, there’s soup on the stove if you’re hungry,” she offered, gesturing toward the kitchen.

Logan hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright.”

They sat together at the small kitchen table, the silence between them punctuated only by the clink of spoons against ceramic.

“This is good,” Logan said after a few bites, his tone matter-of-fact.

“You sound surprised,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Not surprised,” he replied, meeting her gaze. “Just impressed.”

A quiet laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Logan’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face.

As the afternoon stretched on, Logan replaced a loose floorboard in the hallway while she crocheted by the fire. The hours slipped by, marked by small exchanges and the comforting rhythm of shared tasks.

When he packed up his tools, she hesitated near the kitchen counter, her fingers twisting the edge of her shirt. “Would you want to stay for dinner?” she asked, her voice quiet but sincere.

Logan looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded. “Sure.”

Dinner was a simpler affair than lunch, the food more about comfort than impressing anyone. They talked in quiet bursts between bites, their conversation weaving through lighthearted topics and the occasional teasing remark.

Afterward, as she cleared the plates, Logan stood. “I’ve got it,” he said, taking the dishes from her hands and moving to the sink.

She watched him for a moment, her heart twisting at the simple kindness of the gesture. The sight of him at her sink—so at ease in her space—stirred something deep and unfamiliar.

“Thanks,” she murmured, leaning against the counter.

He nodded, scrubbing a plate with deliberate care. The steady rhythm of the water and his movements filled the quiet.

Without fully thinking it through, she stepped closer, her hand brushing against his as she reached for the towel. He froze, his gaze flicking to hers, and in that moment, the world seemed to still.

Logan’s hands stilled on the last dish, his focus divided between the sound of the running water and her quiet presence behind him. As he placed the plate on the drying rack, she stepped closer, the space between them shrinking until it felt almost electric.

"You're really determined to make yourself useful, aren't you?" she teased softly, her voice light but edged with something she couldn’t quite name.

Logan turned, the towel in his hand forgotten as his gaze dropped to hers. His presence loomed in the small kitchen, grounding and overwhelming all at once.

"Figured it’s the least I can do after dinner," he said, his voice low, steady. But his eyes lingered, betraying something deeper.

Evelyn tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "You’ve already done enough, Logan."

He huffed softly, his lips twitching in what might’ve been the ghost of a smirk. "Not sure about that."

The fire crackled faintly in the living room, the only sound breaking the quiet tension that hung between them. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took a small step forward, her fingers brushing against the edge of the counter.

"Logan," she started, but her voice faltered when his eyes locked onto hers, sharp yet unreadable.

"What?" he asked, his tone soft yet weighted.

For a moment, she froze, her breath hitching as she searched his face for hesitation, for any sign that she shouldn’t cross the line she’d been tiptoeing around all day. But there was none.

So she closed the distance.

Her hands reached out, tentative at first, resting lightly against his chest as she leaned up on her toes. Logan didn’t move, his broad frame still as though he was waiting for her to decide. And then, before she could second-guess herself, her lips met his.

The kiss started soft, uncertain, but when Logan’s hands came up to her waist, pulling her closer, it shifted. His grip was firm, grounding her as his lips moved against hers with an intensity that made her knees weak.

Her hands slid up his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening on her hips. The kitchen seemed to shrink around them, the edges of the world blurring until all she could feel was him—his warmth, his strength, the quiet restraint in the way he held her.

Her back pressed against the counter as his lips trailed from hers, brushing along her jaw and down to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. She gasped softly, her fingers sliding into his hair as her body leaned instinctively into his.

"Logan," she murmured, her voice breathless and unsteady.

He paused, his forehead resting against hers as they both fought to catch their breath. His hands still rested at her waist, his grip steady but no longer insistent.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice rough but careful.

Her heart stuttered at the question, at the tenderness beneath his words. She nodded, her fingers loosening their hold on his shirt to cup his face instead.

"Yeah," she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke. "It’s more than okay."

Logan exhaled, the tension in his body easing slightly, though the intensity in his gaze didn’t waver. He kissed her again, slower this time, but no less consuming. His hands roamed her back, her shoulders, anchoring her to him as though he needed the reassurance of her presence as much as she needed his.

When they finally broke apart, her chest heaved as she leaned against him, her forehead pressing lightly to his collarbone. His fingers traced gentle patterns along her spine, the movement soothing despite the storm still raging in her chest.

"That," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she glanced up at him, "was… unexpected."

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his lips quirking into a small smile.

They stood there for a long moment, the warmth of his body against hers chasing away the chill of the night.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing along her hip.

She nodded, her smile shy but genuine. "I think so."

Logan’s eyes softened, and he dipped his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before stepping back just enough to give her space.

"Good," he said simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance that made her heart ache in the best way.

The air in the cottage felt different now—warmer, charged, like the fire in the hearth wasn’t the only thing giving off heat. Evelyn sat on the couch with a mug of tea, staring at the flames as they danced and flickered. Logan was still in the kitchen, finishing the last of the cleanup, but her mind lingered on the kiss they’d shared.

She traced the rim of her mug absently, her lips still tingling with the memory of his. It had been unexpected, yet it felt… right. Like crossing a threshold she hadn’t realized she’d been standing at for weeks. But it also terrified her. Letting someone in, even someone as steady as Logan, was a risk she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

The sound of footsteps broke her reverie. Logan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. His expression was calmer now, the intensity from earlier replaced with something quieter—more grounded.

“You’re staring at that fire like it’s got all the answers,” he said, his tone light but with that familiar edge of seriousness.

She glanced up, startled, then gave him a small smile. “Maybe I’m hoping it does.”

He pushed off the doorway and stepped closer, settling into the armchair across from her. His frame filled the space effortlessly, and even though he wasn’t touching her, his presence felt just as consuming as it had in the kitchen.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

She nodded, though her fingers tightened around the mug. “Yeah. Just… a lot to process.”

Logan didn’t rush her, didn’t push for more. He just sat there, his gaze steady and patient. She appreciated that about him—the way he let her find her footing instead of trying to drag her along.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” she admitted after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither was I,” he said, his tone carrying that same quiet honesty that seemed to anchor her.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the room shrank around them, leaving just the two of them in the soft glow of the firelight.

“Do you regret it?” he asked, his voice so quiet it almost blended with the crackle of the flames.

She shook her head immediately. “No. I don’t. But I’m scared.”

Logan nodded slowly, as if he’d been expecting her answer. “Scared of what?”

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. How could she explain the fear of opening herself up again, the fear of letting someone see all the broken pieces she was still trying to put back together?

“Of getting hurt,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “Of losing… something I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m not him,” he said simply.

Her breath hitched, the directness of his words cutting through her defenses like a blade.

“I know,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

Logan nodded, his gaze steady on hers. “I’m not going anywhere, Evelyn. Not unless you tell me to.”

The conviction in his voice sent a ripple through her chest, a mixture of relief and fear intertwining in a way that left her feeling raw.

She looked down at her mug, her fingers tracing its rim again. “You’re… too good at this,” she murmured, her lips curving into a faint, shaky smile.

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back in the chair. “Just trying to be honest.”

Honesty. It was such a simple concept, yet it felt like the most complicated thing in the world. But as she looked at him—really looked at him—she realized that maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be.

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I don’t know how to do this, but I’m trying.”

Logan gave her a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that spoke volumes—soft, tentative, like the air before a storm. Evelyn ran her fingers along the edge of her mug, her thoughts spiraling as she weighed her next words.

Finally, she took a deep breath and looked at him. “Can we take this slow?” Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the vulnerability beneath the surface. “I need time, Logan. I want to give myself to you—completely—but I need you to be patient with me.”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. He sat forward slightly, his forearms resting on his knees as he leaned closer. “I’m not in a rush,” he said, his voice low and steady. “We do this your way.I’ll be here.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone. He wasn’t trying to convince her, wasn’t pushing her to move faster than she could manage. He was offering her the one thing she hadn���t expected—understanding.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re worth it,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Her heart stuttered at his words, the quiet confidence behind them wrapping around her like a balm. It wasn’t just the words themselves; it was the way he said them, like they were a truth he’d known all along.

“I’m not used to this,” she admitted after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone… waiting for me.”

Logan leaned back slightly, his expression softening as his lips curved into the faintest smile. “Guess I’m not like most people.”

Her laugh was quiet but genuine, breaking the tension that had settled between them. “No, you’re not.”

The fire crackled softly, filling the space between their words. Evelyn set her mug down on the small table beside the couch, her hands finally still after what felt like hours of fidgeting.

“I’ll try not to drive you crazy,” she said, her tone teasing but laced with sincerity.

Logan huffed softly, the sound almost like a laugh. “I can handle it.”

She tilted her head, her smile widening as she studied him. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

He shrugged, his gaze warm but steady. “Just sure of you.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face her fears alone.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as her eyes momentarily lowered to her hands. Her fingers curled slightly in a hesitant, almost protective gesture. “The last person who was supposed to wait for me… left.” She cleared her throat quietly, her voice growing quieter. “Just a letter. Said he couldn’t do it.”

There was a brief pause before she looked up, meeting his gaze with a rawness she hadn’t planned to reveal. “I don’t… I don’t like to make people wait for me. It doesn’t usually go well.”

Logan’s eyes softened, his expression still calm but now carrying a hint of understanding. He didn’t speak right away, simply allowing the weight of her words to linger between them, neither pushing her nor pulling away.

After a long moment, Evelyn smiled again, though it was faint. “I’m trying to get better at it,” she added, as if to reassure herself.

Logan gave a small nod, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to try so hard with me, Evelyn.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face her fears alone.

They stayed there for a while longer, the fire burning low as the night deepened. When Logan finally stood to leave, Evelyn walked him to the door, the softness of their earlier conversation still lingering in the air.

He paused in the doorway, turning to face her. “Good night,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Good night,” she replied, her smile small but genuine.

As he stepped out into the cool night, she watched him go, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Inside, as the embers in the hearth flickered faintly, she knew this was only the beginning of something new. Something she wasn’t ready to name but was finally willing to face.

______________________________________________________________

The night air had a crisp edge, the cool breeze rustling through the pines as Logan made his way to the truck. His hand lingered on the door handle for a moment before he glanced back at the cottage. The warm glow of the windows stood out against the dark, a quiet beacon that felt more inviting than any place he’d known in years.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he climbed into the truck. The engine rumbled to life, and as he drove away, the scent of the fire and the lingering warmth of Evelyn’s kiss stayed with him, stirring something deep and unfamiliar in his chest. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his mind replaying the evening—the way she’d smiled, the hesitance in her touch, and the softness in her eyes when she leaned in. It was dangerous, the way she was starting to make him feel like he belonged to something more than just the solitude he’d grown used to.

Inside, Evelyn leaned against the door for a moment after closing it, her fingers brushing against her lips as if to preserve the memory of the kiss. The weight that had pressed on her for months felt lighter, replaced by something warmer, steadier—a tentative hope she hadn’t dared let herself feel before.

The following morning arrived with the soft glow of winter sunlight filtering through the cottage windows. Evelyn stretched lazily, the events of the previous night replaying in her mind like a half-remembered dream. Her cheeks warmed as she recalled the kiss—the way it had ignited something within her that she wasn’t quite ready to name.

She let herself savor the memory for a moment before throwing off the covers and heading to the kitchen. The smell of coffee filled the small space as she poured herself a mug, her thoughts drifting to Logan. Was he thinking about her too?

“Get a grip,” she muttered, taking a sip of coffee.

She glanced at the crocheting she’d left on the arm of the couch—a nearly finished sweater, simple but sturdy, made with care. She ran her fingers over the soft yarn, debating whether she’d be bold enough to give it to him. Would he see it as too personal? The thought sent a flutter of nerves through her chest, but the memory of his steady presence reassured her. Logan wasn’t the kind of man who overthought gestures. If he accepted it, he’d do so simply and honestly.

Meanwhile, Logan was already knee-deep in work at the logging site. The familiar rhythm of chopping wood and loading the truck was grounding, his body moving on autopilot as his mind wandered. He replayed the night before, the warmth of her touch and the way she’d looked at him—a mixture of uncertainty and trust that made his chest tighten.

“Hey, Howlett!” Rick’s voice broke through his thoughts. The wiry man leaned on his ax with a knowing grin. “You’re quieter than usual today. Something on your mind?”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.“Nothing that concerns you.”

Rick raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying—it’s nice to see you lightening up a bit.”

Logan huffed a soft laugh despite himself, shaking his head as he turned back to the pile of logs. The teasing didn’t bother him as much as it might have once. If anything, it reminded him of how much his life had shifted since Evelyn had entered it.

Later that day, Evelyn decided to take a walk into town. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but the exercise felt good, clearing her mind and easing some of the nervous energy that had been building since the night before. She stopped by the market to pick up a few things and exchanged pleasantries with Nancy, who greeted her with a warm smile.

“You’re glowing today,” Nancy remarked as she rang up Evelyn’s purchases.

“Am I?” Evelyn asked, her cheeks flushing.

Nancy tilted her head, her knowing smile deepening. “Must be something in the air.”

Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. “Or maybe it’s just the cold.”

As she stepped out of the market, the brisk air nipped at her cheeks, carrying with it the quiet hum of the town going about its day. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her thoughts wandering back to the vest she’d left on the couch and the man it was meant for.

She hesitated at the corner, the familiar path to her cottage stretching ahead of her. But instead of turning toward home, her feet stilled, the decision forming before she fully realized it. Maybe it was Nancy’s words, or maybe it was the nagging feeling in her chest, but suddenly, she couldn’t wait any longer.

Deciding to take a chance, she turned on her heel and started walking toward the logging company. The closer she got, the more her nerves began to hum, but she pushed the feeling aside. She wasn’t going to let fear hold her back—not this time

When she arrived at the logging site, the steady rhythm of work filled the air—axes chopping, saws buzzing, and the occasional shout as logs were loaded onto trucks. A few of the men glanced her way, their expressions ranging from curious to friendly.

One of the older men, a broad-shouldered guy with a kind face, stepped forward, wiping his hands on his flannel shirt. “You must be looking for Logan,” he said, his voice gruff but welcoming, his eyes crinkling at the edges with a knowing smile.

Evelyn nodded, clutching the bag of groceries she’d brought with her. “Is he here?”

The man exchanged a glance with a younger logger nearby, who smirked knowingly before returning to his work. “He’s out back,” the older man said, gesturing toward a narrow path that disappeared into the woods. “Just follow that trail there. Can’t miss him.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling politely.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone softening as he looked at her more closely. “And, miss, if you don’t mind me saying… it’s good to see Logan getting a little company.”

Another man, leaning against the bed of a truck, chimed in with a teasing grin, “Yeah, he’s been in a better mood lately. Not sure what’s changed, though.”

The older man shot him a warning look, but there was no malice in his tone. “Alright, alright. Don’t scare her off. Go on, miss—he’s just down that way.”

Evelyn felt her cheeks warm as she ducked her head. “Thanks again,” she said before heading toward the trail, her nerves tingling with each step.

As she walked away, she heard one of the men mutter, “Lucky guy. About time someone cracked that shell of his.”

______________________________________________________________

As she made her way down the narrow path, the sounds of the logging site faded into the distance. The trees grew denser, their bare branches weaving into a canopy above. Finally, she spotted him—Logan, shirt sleeves rolled up despite the cold, his ax moving with steady precision as he split a log in two.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him work. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, his strength and focus blending into an almost meditative rhythm. Finally, she cleared her throat, stepping into view.

Logan glanced up, his expression softening when he saw her. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I figured it was time for me to return the favor,” she said, holding up the small paper bag. “Brought you something sweet.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, setting the ax down as he approached. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she replied, her lips curving into a small smile. “But I wanted to.”

He took the bag from her, his fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment. The touch lingered in the space between them before he cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

They found a spot near the edge of the clearing to sit. The quiet hum of the woods surrounded them, the distant sound of axes and machinery fading into the background. Logan opened the bag, pulling out a neatly wrapped pastry—something soft and golden, the faint scent of cinnamon wafting from it.

“Cinnamon rolls?” he asked, his brow lifting slightly.

“They’re Nancy’s,” Evelyn said, brushing her hands over her knees nervously. “I figured you could use something sweet after all this hard work.”

He huffed softly—a sound close to a laugh—and took a bite, his expression softening as he chewed. “Not bad.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Nancy you approve.” she teased, her grin widening.

Logan smirked faintly, finishing the roll in a few bites. As they sat there, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by comfortable silences that felt more like pauses than gaps. She told him about Nancy’s insistence on her trying the cinnamon rolls, and he shared a few dry observations about the logging crew’s antics.

When the rolls were gone, Logan leaned back against a tree, his arms resting on his knees as he studied her with that quiet, unreadable gaze. “You didn’t just come all this way to bring me cinnamon rolls, did you?”

Evelyn hesitated, her heart pounding as his words hung in the air. “No,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to see you.”

Logan’s expression softened, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I know,” she said, her voice growing steadier.” She hesitated, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap before she looked back at him. “I want to try—to let you in. I’m just… not great at this.”

Logan studied her quietly, the faint breeze ruffling his hair as he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “You don’t have to be great at it,” he said, his voice low but steady. He paused, his gaze softening as it lingered on hers. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

His words settled over her like a balm, soothing the frayed edges of her nerves. A small, grateful smile tugged at her lips.

They lingered in the clearing for a little longer, their conversation flowing more easily now. It wasn’t anything grand—just small observations, quiet moments of shared understanding—but it felt important. Real. When Logan finally stood, brushing his hands off on his jeans, he nodded toward the path leading back to the logging site.

“Come on,” he said, his tone lighter now. “I’ll walk you back.”

Evelyn felt the warmth of Logan’s presence beside her, the steady sound of his boots crunching against the forest floor grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.

When they reached the edge of the logging site, she turned to face him, her nerves humming faintly. “Thanks for walking me back,” she said, her voice softer now.

Logan nodded, his gaze steady on hers. “Anytime.”

There was a brief pause, the kind of moment that stretched and swelled with unspoken possibilities. Then, acting on an impulse she didn’t fully understand but didn’t want to ignore, Evelyn leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It was soft, fleeting, but it carried the weight of her promise—a promise to try, to let him in, even if it scared her.

When she pulled back, her cheeks warmed, she glanced away, biting back a shy smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Logan’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks, his hand brushing against hers briefly before he stepped back. “Yeah. Later.”

As she walked away, her footsteps light on the gravel path, Logan watched her go, the smirk lingering on his face. He turned to find a few of the guys standing nearby, their expressions ranging from amused to smug.

“Not a word,” Logan muttered, his tone carrying a warning edge.

One of the older men chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Another chimed in, grinning. “I call best man.”

“Idiots,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real heat behind the word. As the crew laughed and returned to their work, Logan found himself glancing back at the path where she’d disappeared, the memory of her kiss still lingering like an ember refusing to fade.

______________________________________________________________

The walk back to her cottage felt lighter than it had in weeks, the crisp air no longer carrying the same weight it usually did.

By the time she reached her porch, the cottage’s familiar charm greeted her like a warm embrace. The fire she’d left burning in the hearth had settled into glowing embers, and as she stepped inside, the quiet solitude of her home felt different now.

She set the bag from the market on the counter, unpacking the remaining items while her mind continued to wander. There was still so much she didn’t know about Logan, so many layers to the man who had somehow become her anchor in this small, quiet town. But for the first time, the uncertainty didn’t feel overwhelming.

Instead, it felt… hopeful.

As she settled onto the couch, her crocheting in her lap, she glanced out the window. The stars above Clearwater twinkled brightly, the kind of vast, open sky she never got used to. Her fingers moved instinctively over the yarn, weaving a familiar pattern into something new, something for him.

She wasn’t sure where this path with Logan would lead—whether it would be smooth or full of unexpected turns—but she knew she wanted to see it through. She wanted to let him in, to take that chance.

And judging by the way her chest felt lighter tonight, she was finally ready to try.

______________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, back at the logging site, Logan finished loading the last stack of logs onto the truck, his body moving on autopilot. His mind, however, was miles away—back in the clearing, where her soft laugh still echoed faintly in his ears.

“Good day, huh?” one of the crew teased as they packed up for the evening.

Logan shot him a sidelong glance, but there was no heat behind it. “Just finish loading the truck,” he muttered, though the faint smirk on his face didn’t go unnoticed.

As he climbed into his truck and drove home, the rhythmic hum of the engine did little to drown out the thoughts swirling in his mind. Her warmth, her laughter, the way her lips had curved into that tentative smile—it was all imprinted on him now, like a map leading to something he didn’t fully understand but was willing to follow.

For the first time in years, the road ahead didn’t feel so empty.

______________________________________________________________

Back at the cottage, Evelyn set aside her crocheting and climbed into bed, pulling the quilt up to her chin. The weight of the day settled over her—not heavy or burdensome, but grounding, like she was finally finding her footing.

As sleep claimed her, the warmth of Logan’s presence remained, lingering in the corners of her thoughts and in the quiet certainty of her heart.

They were both moving slowly, cautiously, but for the first time in a long time, they were moving forward.

Together

Chapter 4

_______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library @pedroscurls @britttzy267 @aliensfeltmyjoy

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[wifetomegatron]

i have this little worm in my brain that's obsessed with the idea of putting cybertronians in normal, everyday scenarios. to pluck these blocky, stiff characters and drop them into a landscape so smooth, so gentle, that they stand out like a sore thumb. a shadow across a monet painting : from far away nothing looks out of place, but the closer you look, the more you realise that this is absurd.

and yet i love first contact aus, where earth has established a semi-stable understanding with cybertron that assimilation has gone as far as mechs being able to roam around the streets and go unnoticed by the crowd of humans. that they can sit and dine in restaurants with their human partners or friends, nursing a glass of energon, while they catch up on each other's lives. where mass displacement and gravity adjusting machines are accessible so these bots don't destroy or ruin everything they touch in this little blue planet and instead learn how to adapt to it. to not only live but to live together : 

fortress maximus having breakfast with you in your shared apartment.

swerve shaking up drinks for human patrons at his bar.

rodimus walking his date down the street of their home.

ratchet and drift going through the christmas market. skids helping you with your jewellery by the vanity table. velocity pushing the cart while you shop for groceries.

it's ridiculous and makes little sense but it is also wishful thinking. and most of my thoughts consist of mourning the painfully tender slice of normalcy humans could have given these giant war-raging bots if given the chance.

how we can finally find a way to fit the sharp and unyielding edges of their armors against the curve of our open palms. so they can learn how to be finally grounded to the soil and not drift against the nothingness of space. word barf but i'm going insane.

give me the domestic bliss i deserve with my sixty foot tall alien husband or i will explode like confetti.

[twig-tea]

With 23.5 finally coming out, the people are rejoicing at finally getting a high profile gl from GMMTV. But there have already been several gls airing this year, including my fav TsukuTabe, that have been flying under the radar with fandom, and in general there are more gls already out there than folks seem to think. I just know you have a list of all the gls we should be watching, please share with the class!

Thank you for the ask! How did you know I had a draft of GL recs to make at some point? [Trick question, I mentioned it to you.]

It may seem like I'm out here hating on GL because i've made a couple of negative reviews of recently airing series recently (Love Senior and Chaser Game W in case you're curious) but I actually have lots of GL that I love and that I wish were better known! Thanks for sending this ask so I am inspired to actually finish it! I've limited myself to series so that I could keep the list and this post to a reasonable length. Where possible I've listed where you can find each of these and included a link. And I've included an 'elevator pitch' summary but I am NOT in marketing for a reason, so please don't roast me too hard for my terrible comparisons. Alright, enough waffling!

Twig's GL Rec List

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat S1 & 2 (Japan, 2022 & 2024, both seasons fansubbed by @furritsubs; if you need help accessing this show feel free to DM me!)

Elevator pitch: Our Dining Table with lesbians and an even slower burn. Watch for beautiful food, acespec rep, mental health and therapy rep

What might turn some off: Extremely low heat, and quite slow-moving; warning for a disordered eating and family trauma plot (v gently handled)

Let's start with the one you've already mentioned. This is a heartwarming slice-of-life slow burn in which an autismspec-coded woman who likes to eat is invited by her neighbour, a femme acespec woman who loves to cook, to come and eat her food. It starts from a very practical place (when you love making food you need someone to help eat it), but their relationship grows as they spend more time together. The story follows them as they both move towards self-actualization in several ways: as a lesbian, as asexual, at work, with their families, with their friends, with each other. This show is so careful to say the important words aloud. And there is so much delicious cooking! Each episode highlights a particular recipe, and the food porn is real. Do not watch while hungry, but definitely watch. The found famiy vibes in this one one are also immaculate.

She Makes My Heart Flutter (Korea, 2022, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: Younger lesbian friend group tries to help out (slightly) older lesbian bar owner with mixed success. I can't think of a good BL equivalent, The Moment Since feels the closest with its similar bartender/patron romance

What might turn some off: Comedic tone; short runtime; struggles with being closeted

This is a gem of a miniseries about a bar owner and an interior designer who smoulder at one another while an intrepid group of younger bar regulars (including the bar owner's neice) meddle. This series is really cute, solid, and full of sapphics! Once again found family vibes are immaculate (you may sense a theme in my faves). Run don't walk.

Fragrance of the First Flower (Taiwan, 2021, GagaOOLala)

Elevator pitch: Right-person-wrong-time/second chance romance; tonally is a little like We Best Love 2: Fighting Mr. 2nd but with an ambiguous ending.

What might turn you off: Medium heat, second chance romance means they break up once, internalized homophobia, adultery/cheating, at one point there's a creepy dude, child with autism (depicted well), ambiguous ending

At its core this is a story of a woman who can't stop getting in the way of her own happiness. This series is a little more sad than the rest of this rec list but I couldn't not include it because this relationship is so poignant. Plus there's a s2 that supposedly is to come out in 2024 so maybe we'll get our happy ending after all?

Love Greater Than or Equal to 70 Degrees C (Korea, 2019, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: Ingredients but with lesbians staring at one another over beautiful tea pairings! What more could you ask for?

What might turn you off: Low heat; short runtime; ambiguous ending; like Ingredients this is essentially a long ad for the café it's filmed at.

This is a Korean miniseries about passionate tea sommeliers making really fancy tea while staring at one another a LOT. Perfect sapphic representation, 10/10 no notes. This one packs a lot of the drama tropes into its short runtime, so even though it's short it's full of butterfly-inspiring moments.

Sleep With Me (Philippines, 2022, GagaOOLala/iWantTFC/Netflix w/VPN set to Philippines)

Elevator pitch: The Truth About Cats and Dogs but the self esteem issues are handled without catfishing. BL equivalent: Hmmm. Closest I can think of is Gaya Sa Pelikula.

What might turn you off: There's some ableism (treated as such) in this show; Open ending.

Stellar GL between a late night radio DJ and an insomniac who listens to her show. One of the main couple is a wheelchair user and the show tackles ablelism and navigating disability in relationship as well as feelings of inadequacy in a relationship and how that manifests as interpersonal conflict.

Our Relationship Ended Before it Began (Korea, 2022, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: Along the lines of I Cannot Reach You; the show gives both perspectives and they are held back by queer angst.

What might turn you off: No kiss (but they make it very clear both want to kiss), internalized homophobia

Really sweet miniseries about having a crush and being afraid of being hurt so you don't actually make a move. I really like the way the girl who has not dated a girl before defaults to gender roles and it throws the more experienced lesbian lol I also really like the way this show makes clear that both of them are waiting for a kiss, and that if you get in your head about things, it can get in the way of your own happiness!

Pearl Next Door (Philippines, 2020, Youtube)

Elevator Pitch: Gameboys but with lesbian vloggers.

What might turn you off: Love triangle, lots of teasing but low heat in the end, a lot of (good) conversations about mental health issues, ambiguous ending

This is the GL spinoff to Gameboys, starring Pearl from Gameboys. Pearl ends up being fought over by the two gorgeous women in the gif, an old love and a new. I love the queer friendships in this story as much as the relationships. I will say it's an open ending (that felt a bit like the showrunners didn't want to decide between ships) and definitely the love triangle features prominently but even in the face of these aspects that would normally turn me off a series I had a good time. The characters and interpersonal conflicts feel very real, and are allowed to be complex even when the show tone is comedic.

Dear Uranus (Taiwan, 2021, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: Schoolgirl ensemble GL; a little like My School President but without the singing.

What might turn you off: Short runtime; ambiguous ending; a little bit of bullying; very standard romance trope execution

The first Taiwanese GL miniseries, this series was produced by a Taiwanese lesbian couple (Rabbit & Wolf)! Lots of excellent drama tropes, and incredibly gorgeous women (I think the entire watching audience fell in love with Erol.

Lily Fever (Korea, 2015, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: Complete crack; YYY but with more kissing and frankly an even less coherent story.

What might turn you off: The lack of coherent plot; less a romance and more a very thirsty lesbian kissing everyone she can

This miniseries is utter chaos. Nothing really makes sense, it's all just random excuses to cause very suggestive moments (and kissing) to happen. I love so much how this series depicts women being so absolutely thirsty for one another (and yes that date isn't a typo, this series is ~9 years old). Not an "happy ever after" ending but it really isn't that kind of story.

Chasing Sunsets (Philippines, 2020, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: Ocean Likes Me with lesbians. Resort romance with a mental health twist.

What might turn you off: Some of the mental health stuff gets intense, this was filmed in 2020 so the pandemic features heavily; hopeful but slightly ambiguous ending.

A complex story from the Philippines covering mental health and finding yourself. A woman shows up to a resort and befriends one of the women running the resort. They get closer as they spend time together, and the resort owner realizes something is off. There's also a BL side couple in this series.

Show Me Love (Thai, 2023, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: A little like My Day the series with lesbians, in that they work together and fall in love and it's full of tropes

What might turn you off: The advertising for the Miss Grand competition, there is some bullying and cheating (though way less than I was expecting tbh), not a lot actually happens, the editing gets a bit wonky at the end

This is essentially a massive ad for the Miss Grand Thailand competition; this GL was produced by the same company that produces that competition, and the stars are mostly Miss Grand competitors. The main pairing were shipped in the actual competition, and the company decided to make a GL about them. It's very slow paced and low-stakes, and there are better kisses than I expected considering everything I just said about where this show came from. There are a lot of cute moments!

Girlfriend Project (Korea, 2022, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: Love Class with lesbians

What might turn you off: One of the leads is kind of mean in that pgitail-pulling way? It ends abruptly (but happily)

This is a short miniseries about two girls paired in a class that are assigned to "date". The chemistry is chemistrying. And there is a kiss (a good kiss, and a tiptoes kiss at that!). This show also has one of my favourite tropes, in which someone who seems like a pushover stands up for themselves and their partner finds it very attractive. For the record, in this show they are watching another GL by the same company, Love Tech.

Lulu (Philippines, 2022, Vivamax/grey)

Elevator Pitch: Present Perfect with lesbians (but with a better ending).

What might turn you off: Depictions of panic attacks, brief depiction of drowning, pandemic lockdowns, illness, exes, waffling, happy but open ending (which I actually liked for this story)

Two women trying to move on from the garbage in their lives meet at the beach of a B&B (where one saves the other from drowning) and become one another's company during their escape and then something more. They both have baggage that seems determined to keep them apart even as they continue to be drawn together. In the end, they decide to stick it out and see where they end up, with no guarantee of happily ever after, which I found very sweet. Requires either a VivaMax account or searching the grey for it, but it's worth the effort (check MyDramaList comments for suggestions on where to find it). Plus one of the leads has a cactus as a pet.

Welcome to the Lesbian Bar (Korea, 2023, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: A little like Fudanshi Bartender but without the fudanshi bartender and all of the bar patrons are lesbians lol

What might turn you off: Short, can get a little bit preachy, abrupt ending

Cute short series with different very stories every episode as different patrons visit the bar. The stories range from women who have been together for awhile, to people meeting from an online app for the first time, to someone visiting a lesbian bar for the first time; and yet the story all weaves together in a way that's satisfying though ends abruptly. Includes some solid marriage equality propaganda.

GAP the Series (Thai, 2022, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: Kind of the vibes of Together with Me but lesbians and in an office instead of school. Angry boss falls for charming new intern and

What might turn you off: This one is the highest heat of all these recs; homophobia especially amongst family, brief depictions of death by car, brief mentions of suicide, cheating, bullying, abuse of power in the office.

A list would not be complete without this one! Honestly the plot is a bit wobbly but the show is a lot of fun. The girls are very cute, the feelings and tension builds really well between them, the friend group is excellent, and in the special we get a wedding.

---

The rest of these have caveats of one kind or another, but i couldn't leave them off a rec list, so here are the side couples and censored stories that are still worth your time anyway (I might do a separate more detailed post for these, as well as for films, one day if there's interest):

Nevertheless (GL side; Korean, 2021, Netflix) Not sure it's worth watching a whole kdrama for side lesbians? Search soljiwan on youtube. They are great. Even the Netflix account stans them. I watched this (ngl, I watched the SolJiwan cut) as it aired and was constantly braced for it to let us down but it did not! A really good friends-to-lovers story.

Friend Zone 2: Dangerous Area (GL side; Thailand, 2019, YouTube): These sapphics are messy and I love them. Decent conversation about dating someone with mental health issues in this series, and they're one of the only couples in this ensemble to get a happy ending. If you're just watching the lesbian couple (which you can, their story is pretty self-contained) you don't need to have seen s1.

Six Survivors (GL side; Japan, 2022, Viki) This show is a horror comedy and it is SO MUCH FUN. Warning for zombies and blood, but way less than you might think. One of the eponymous 6 survivors is a lesbian who keeps trying to convert them to veganism lol. If you watched Chaser Game W you'll recognize one of the actresses in this, the lead actress is from Kamisama no Ekohiiki, and one of the guys is from the prequel series His as well as I Want to See Only You! And yes there is a kiss. Also a surprising number of Mallrats references. Not for people who can't handle gore or relationships being complicated/not a "true love" story/ambiguous ending.

Kamisama no Ekohiiki (complicated question of is it GL in parts, Japan, 2021, furritsubs once again coming through to save the day) This one is a bit complex because there's bodyswap, but the girl who falls for the bodyswapped boy-in-a-girl's-body is clear that she is only interested in the girl. One of the better bodyswap stories because the bodyswap is not a secret for very long, so instead there's a lot of introspection about what gender means and who/what they are attracted to. Feels wrong to call this GL, necessarily, but it's very queer.

Couple of Mirrors (Censored GL, China, 2021, Viki) Story of a rich girl and her assassin girlfriend. This production did an amazing job getting away with what they could, just don't watch the last five minutes and we've got essentially a happy lesbian family.

Legend of Yunze (Censored GL, China, 2021, @douqi7s) Very cute very low budget xianxia miniseries with two seasons and a special. The special is set in modern times in a future lifetime so if you want a cute censored-but-clearly-a-soulmate-love-story this is the one for you. Don't be thrown off by the weird cuts/abrupt episode endings, that's in line with cdramas in general.

Led Astray by Love (Censored GL, China, 2021, @douqi7s) A very fun and adorable isekai story in which a modern day girl is transported to a wuxia novel setting and has to figure out how to get home, and gets romanced by the princess along the way.

And a few additional links for people who even more content:

My Indian sapphic webseries rec list

My suggestions for content with toms (Thai category that's similar to but not exactly the same as butch lesbians) in response to this post.

This really good GL MyDramaList list (not made by me!) lists what seems to be everything I've mentioned and about 200 more. Even I haven't seen a few of these!

My YouTube playlist of sapphic content: This includes anything I stumble across or find in my searches, a lot of music videos and random shorts as well as some microseries and miniseries that I don't consider GL but are WLW/sapphic in addition to true "GL" content. For serialized content, I add just the first ep. A complete mess, but you can trawl through to find stuff to watch, like Hetero!

SOONOTSUE: The same producers of She Makes My Heart Flutter have other short series on their channel worth checking out; if you liked that one, try Out of Breath!

Shakeshoulder: Thai YouTube producers of very pulpy (read: low budget and dramatic plots) shorts

FuFuKnows: This YouTube channel is owned by a gay Taiwanese couple that produces shorts every week, including some with GL mains and sides. These are very low budget but cover a whole swath of queer themes.

@douqi7s is a godsend providing subtitles for all kinds of content, including sapphic shorts and more series than I've listed here. Check their tumblr for links to all of their content; A Practical Guide to Being a Superstar's Assistant has one of the best setups to giving us great moments in the guise of something else so that they get past censorship I've ever seen; I also recommend The Vampires if you're into genre fiction, as well as Legend of Yunqian if you enjoyed the xianxia parts of Legend of Yunze. @wlwcatalogue did an excellent summary of many of the non-wuxia options here.

Quick pitch for the streaming platform GagaOOLala; it's affordable, has a ton of content, including a whack of GLs (originals, license series, and a ton of shorts), and is run by queer people out of Taiwan who care about good quality queer content being made and having an audience, and using the soft power from those successful series to support social change. And if you can't afford a subscription it's worth checking out what they have for free, they open up temporary free access to some things for various events throughout the year.

In searching for gifs for this post I found fellow tumblr user @drowningparty 's WLW compendium list; they've listed more series and films so check it out if you still need more content!

*wipes sweat off brow* that should be enough to be getting on with, but it's really just the tip of the iceberg! If there's something specific you want to see with sapphics let me know and I can tell you if I know it exists. Anyway, I hope this gives you and everyone else a taste of what all is out there! I of course always want more, I am serious about being a sapphic dragon hoarding every crumb i can get my lizardy hands on, but I do think what we have should also be appreciated more. If I missed one of your faves, please tell me!

[simstorian-blog]

New York City: THREE

(CC List + DL)

E X T E R I O R

C O N C E R T S T A G E

H O T E L

Standard Suite I An open concept room with a double bed, hosting up to 2 sims, and living area. It comes with its own bathroom.

Standard Suite II An open concept room with 2 double beds, hosting up to 4 sims, and living area. It comes with its own bathroom.

Premium Suite Private Floor with an outdoor terrace overlooking the city. It comes with the following: A full living room, kitchenette, a bedroom, and a full bathroom.

M A R K E T

Equipped with functional objects. You can grab a coffee and can purchase produce, fish, food from the market stall and/or cafeteria counter! This space has its own bathroom.

B E A U T Y B A R

This beauty bar has 6 salon chairs meeting the minimum requirements for the Shear Brilliance Mod. Alongside those chairs comes a retail counter, seating for waiting customers, 4 mani/pedi Spa Day Chairs, 1 Massage Table, a Staff Room, and its own bathroom.

[W A R N I N G: This lot is heavy. I do NOT recommend it if you do not have a decent system. My personal specs – GTX 1660ti, 16GB Ram, Nvme M.2 Primary Drive with 156GB of CC. It takes me 2-3 min to load for this lot, which is longer than my regular time. However, I have it set to the ‘Lounge’ lot type to avoid the extended load for the ‘Generic’ lot buildbuy when you have a lot of CC.]

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Myshuno Meadows

Lot Size:  64 x 64

Capacity:

A Beauty Bar – Salon Chairs, Spa Day Items, Staff Room

A Concert Stage

A Hotel – Lot51’s Suite Life Mod Compatible

A Market – Functional

Bonus: 4 Empty Spaces – 3 Small buildings, 1 Spacious Skyscraper Floor

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

[Long post, I know! Second half below the line lol]

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

City Living

Cottage Living

Eco Lifestyle

Get Famous

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Lovestruck

For Rent

Seasons

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Journey to Batuu

Jungle Adventure

My Wedding Stories

Parenthood

Realm of Magic

Spa Day

Strangerville

Vampires

Werewolves

Stuff Packs

Backyard Stuff

Bowling Night

Home Chef Hustle

Romantic Garden

Kits

Cozy Bistro

Castle Estate

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Better Build Buy (For the ‘Deletion Protection’ setting, if you want to modify)

City Vibes Lot Traits

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot (Works for Community Lots)

Shear Brilliance (Active Cosmetology Career)

Spawn Refresh

Suite Life Hotel & Resorts

Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots (For the lot challenge traits)

CC Used

[All credits go to the following creators for sharing their work with the community. It is greatly appreciated and I hope that you all have endless nights of the best sleep ever.]

Helpful Tip: Having Only What is Needed For CC Builds (Tumblr)

Amoebae: Pile in Carpet

Awingedllama: Traffic Light 3

Charly Pancakes: The Lighthouse Collection (Books C + D)

Felixandre: Berlin Pt. 2 (Front Door), Chateau Pt. 1|2|3|4, Colonial Pt. 1|3, Estate Pt. 1|2|3 (CF), Georgian, Gothic Revival (Mirror), Grove Pt. 1|2|3|4, January 2018, London Interior (Cane Chair), Paris Pt. 1, SOHO Pt. 3|4

FlirtyGhoul: Minimart Pt. 1-11

GUA: Air Conditioners

Hamstebelle: Cyberpunk Food Stall (Simlish)

Hanraja: S015 (Shelf Gass Deep), S037 (Dining Sit Booth + Sit Dining 2)

Harrie: Brownstone Pt., Coastal Pt. 5|7, Klean Pt. 1|2|3, Octave Pt. 2, Spoons Pt. 1

HeyBrine: Jessie Livin’ Pack Pt.1, Le Bistro Pack (Tables), Nana’s Collection (Microwave), Noova Collection

House of Harlix: Kichen (Glasses), Livin’ Rum (Frame Tvs), Orjanic Pt. 2

JoyceIsFox: Summer Garden – Tiles Pack (Purity#1 Floor + Wall Tiles)

KiwiSims4: Blockhouse Hallway (Small Lamp)

Kta: Vogue Prints 1 (10s-20s) [Mesh Needed]

Lijoue: A Louer Collection (Fence)

LilacCreative: Keratin Collection

Lili’s Palace: Intarsia Wainscot Wonderland (Polished Marble Floor)

LittleDica: Deligracy Fridge, Roman Holiday

Max20: Happily Ever After (Dining Table Knot)

MintyJinx: Terrain to Floor Collection

Myshunosun: Lottie (Throw Blanket)

Nempne: Cover Sheet Ceiling Tiles

Peacemaker: Hinterlands Living Room (Pouffe), Hudson Bathroom, Vampire Add Ons

Pierisim: Auntie Vera Bathroom, Coldbrew Coffeeshop Pt. 3, Domaine Du Clos Pt. 2|3|4, MCM Pt. 1|4|5, Outside Lunch, Tilable

Ravasheen: CounterFit Mini Fridge, Elevator, Shop Chef

Severinka: Apollo Sofa (Right), Grocery Store Pt. 1|2|4

Simspiration Builds: Portuguese Floors

SixamCC: Hotel Bedroom

Sooky88: Horizontal Oil Paintings

Sundays: Kediri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillows- Solids), Pool Haus, Swell Pt. 1, Ungasan Pt. 2 (Slippers)

Syboubou: Hotel Luggage Trolley

TaurusDesign: Eliza Walk In, Judith Kitchen (Barstool), Lilith Chilling Areas Pt. 1

Tuds: Base Game Curved Windows, Beam Kitchen (Table 1x2), Ind 02|03, Vime Closet

Winner9: Malibu Pillow

Vehicles: Included

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

DOWNLOAD (1.82 GB)

[absolutebl]

TOP 10 BL Trends of 2023

This is just me with my analysis hat on. 

1. 2023 = the year EVERYONE went outside their lanes

Everything went topsy-turvy this year in BL. 

For example, Korea gave us agonized yearning and outright queerness (The 8th Sense, The New Employee) while Japan served up soft office workers and tender family (Our Dining Table). 

The BL world went askew for a while, especially in the spring of 2023. 

Not that we still didn’t still get Korea’s soft angsty bubbles or Japan’s “what are you doing and why does it hurt?” kink-fests. But there were quite a few BLs that made us chronic watchers sit up in confusion and wonder if Korea was dabbling in Taiwan’s territory or Japan in Thailand’s. Then they fudged the kisses and we were like... okay, back in familiar territory. 

In contrast, Thailand stayed course-correcting for the damage they’ve done in the past with tropes (2022) and self referential meta criticism (2021), but also almost aggressively returned to their BL roots after last year’s series of shockers. Certainly, they are reexamining those roots, transplanting some, aerating others. But they really went back to classic Thai university and high school BL and pulps in a big way in 2023. 

Taiwan is always difficult to gage because they produce so few but they seem to have stuck with what they do best with no deviation while producing more this year than they have in ages. I’m happy for that, why change a good thing? But there is a tiny part of me that really wants them to hit it out of the part with a quality piece soon. For me, We Best Love still reigns supreme, but I would really like the HIStory franchise to give us that level but longer - like a happy version of Your Name Engraved Herein. I think Taiwan has the chops to give us something as good as The 8th Sense or Old Fashion Cupcake but in their style, and I would like to see them exercise their talent for good rather than just profit. 

I know, what a very odd thing for me to say. But if any BL is going to break into the mainstream American market, I genuinely think it’s most likely come from Taiwan. 

Vietnam and the Philippines are falling behind, in general. They just didn’t bring out very many shows in 2023, and what the brought out tended to fub the endings. This is forgivable in Japan (because of their style and quality) but not what watchers want in the lower production value propositions. In other words, if you do a pulp, you can’t mess up the ending (by romance standards). that doesn’t look to be changing anytime soon. 

2. The Office Romance Dominated

After years of Thailand serving us an endless (and slightly bland) buffet of university (and a few high school) BLs, this year Korea was basically like...

Ofiice. We like the Office. It’s cheap to film we can use grown up actors, acting (mostly) their actual age. 

And yeah... it totally worked. 

To be fair, Japan has always given us office live action yaoi from the beginning (they had the source material) but this year everyone else, including Thailand, seriously started playing in this setting. 

3. Boys Danced with Boys

The darling @heretherebedork​ was a big fan of this one, and I rather like it myself. Prior to this boys dancing together was very very rare in BL, but this year we got way more than our fair share. It was lovely. 

Never Let me Go

My School President 

Bed Friend 

The Day I Loved You 

Step by Step

Be Mine Superstar

Tie the Not 

Dangerous Romance

I think there were a few more. These are the ones I remembered to write down. 

4. Getting (even more) Meta With Tropes 

BL has been getting more and more meta over the past few years but this year they really focused in on tropes specifically. Calling out their own biggest and most favorite tropes in a massive way, especially Thailand and especially GMMTV. 

Like they tunneled in on damaging tropes with Bad Buddy and the like over the past 2 years, and now they are just having fun with us. 

I mean they just started the dancing trope and already they are calling it out? That’s like rapid-fire regurgitated meta there, GMMTV. 

5. Cameos are the norm now 

Taiwan has always loved cameos but in the past the other countries have been show and steady with only one or two a year. (Unless Japan does a parody.) 

This year Korea got in on the game.

Korea rarely starts trends but they do adopt smaller and lesser known existing ones and make them super popular. 

This year they did that with cameo couple appearances, even borrowing a few of Thailand’s pairs (TutorYim and MaxNat traveled north). They did it so much I stopped tracking. Love Class 2, Why R U?, and Jun & Jun were the heaviest hitters. 

Taiwan, of course, came back swinging. Kiseki was the gum-ball machine of pair cameos. (In Taiwan mafia = gay.) 

6. We are entering the cross pollination age

The number of remakes picked up or started this year was startling, not just countries revisiting their own content (Thailand, Japan) but countries revisiting OTHER countries stuff.

Lemme explain...

Korea has started remaking Thai content (Why R U?) alongside cameo'ing Thai pairs.

Thailand is doing Korean IP (My Dear Gagster Oppa) and has 2 Chinese ones slated for next year. 

GMMTV acquired a lot of Japanese IP (Cherry Magic, Ossen, and My Love Mix Up) - and then had problems distributing it. 

This is probably the most surprising trend for me. Especially the Japanese stuff. I would have thought these properties well outside of Thailand's price range (even GMMTV's) not to mention Japan’s legendary IP issues (I swear I typed this pout before the pulled TayNew’s excellent Cherry Magic). 

Also why not option some of the older popular manga instead? Bet that's much cheeper. (I did see a NEW Thai translation of Finder into Thai, which is 90s yaoi, so I have my fingers crossed on that front.)

I shouldn't be too surprised. 

Thailand is running out of y-novel content. Their publication industry is just not robust enough (I was just talking to a friend about this at length recently). But I didn't think they had the funds to option, especially from Japan. 

Perhaps the option deals are for peanuts?

7. Korea got cheeky

I’m not sure quite how else to put this. 

After finally figuring out boys can kiss, Korea started to do not just higher heat but playful higher heat, with more aggressive word play and linguistic innuendo, like they are entering their racy rom-com teenage years (Why R U? Love Class 2 and Jun & Jun in particular.) 

I guess: Welcome to your BL teens, Korea? 

It’s cute of them. I am very much enjoying it. 

And now that comedy is warming them up, we get to see them play with actual queer burgeoning physicality in shows like The 8th Sense. 

It’s nice. I like seeing Korea stretch its wings. They still stick to their bubble, but that bubble seems to be expanding. 

8. The Amnesia Trope is back

And I, for one, would prefer to forget about it. 

9. BL got trendy 

I’m not quite sure how to articulate this category but basically we started seeing a lot of “modern” romance trends out of the west (like a/b/o) show up in our BL. Not a ton and sometimes quite small, but there has a been a steady rise of things like: no seme/uke, femme gay, out gay, condom use, messy gay. 

We also got an increasing range of sub genre frameworks (like mafia, office setting) that’s moved BL pretty firmly (even in Thailand) out of school and into the workplace, whether actual working is involved or not. 

It’s not to the point where it feels like we get more non-school BL than school BL (if I include all countries in this assessment).

Japan, in classic Japanese fashion, quietly started moving in the opposite direction. It’s what they do. 

10. The Vampires are coming 

This is an announcement trend, which I don’t usually report on but it’s so CLEAR. 

So last year we had a spate of announcements of possible Omegaverse (2 from China, 1 from Japan, 1 from Thailand - the only one that’s happened). 

This year we got 5 Vampire (or vampire-esk) Thai BLs announced including one from GMMTV. 

Whether all 5 will actually get made is unlikely, but having had (basically) none prior to this (Kissable Lips), I’m pretty confident that we will get at least 2 of them. And I wouldn’t be surprised if at least one other country made one as well. (Side eyes Taiwan with interest.) 

Final thoughts

It feels like we are also seeing a decline in BL (both by quantity and quality) from Vietnam and the Philippines. As you all know, I don’t track or really watch either of these two very closely. But it feels like, now, no one else is either. 

I think we have likely seen the BL heyday already in both places and their industries are now on the decline. 

We might be witnessing a thinning in the players in the BL field. 

FYI we had approximately 

136 BLs in 2023

Previous Years

2022: 117

2021: 95

2020: 62

2019: 40

2018: 30 

2017: 44 (China’s last gasp)

2016: 27

2015: 17 (50% micro)

2014: 17 (50% micro)

And that’s it! Let me know in the comments if you’ve spotted any additional trends you want to call out.

Last year, 2022′s trend report

2021′s Trend report

Last Year’s Stats & Predictions

(source) 

[yelenasdiary]

Flufftober request

Wanda x fem reader

Wanda and reader have a cozy afternoon together, carving pumpkins.

Drabble || A Crafty Pumpkin Afternoon

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem! Reader

Summary: Wanda surprises you with a little halloween activity!

Fluff

Warnings: This is not proof read or corrected! | 0.5K

AC: Thank you for sending this! It made for a perfect little Drabble! I hope you enjoy! x

October Special Masterlist 2024

The scent of a cinnamon candle mingled through the coziness of the Maximoff household, pumpkins cradled in her arms as she walked into the kitchen. Wanda had ducked down to the market in the centre of town while you had gone on your morning walk with Sparky. She placed the large pumpkins on the kitchen island before she began to set the dining table ready for an afternoon of fun.

She heard the front door open and the sound of Sparky’s paws pattering on the floor as he b-lined for her, jumping up at her knees to greet her. “Did somebody enjoy their morning walk?” Wanda coo’d at the pup as you wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“What’s with the set out on the dining table?” you asked before taking a much need mouthful of water. 

“I’m glad you asked” Wanda grinned, “while you were out, I went to the market and got us these!” she added, stepping aside for you to see the two large pumpkins behind her. Your eyes lit up at the sight, “I thought we weren’t craving pumpkins this year?” you questioned. 

“That was when I thought I’d be busy with work but, I’m not so I thought why not surprise you” she smiled.

“Lemme get changed then we can start!” you replied, almost jumping with excitement before you rushed up stairs leaving Wanda behind while she giggled. You changed into your favourite sweats and one of Wanda’s hoodies that you always loved to steal. 

Wanda, already in a cozy outfit was waiting patiently for you at the dining table, craving knifes ready to create a mess. You returned with an excited smile on your lips, “which is which?” you asked, taking a seat across from Wanda. 

“You can pick your pumpkin” Wanda said, “I markers to sketch with, and the filling can go into these bowls” she added, pointing to the large silver bowls she would use for baking. 

Hours passed in a delightful haze of carving, teasing, and the occasional splatter of pumpkin guts. You didn’t just carve pumpkins together; you created memories together. Plenty of laughs shared, some light teasing and the small bickering over whose pumpkin was the spookiest. 

Once both pumpkins were finished, they stood proudly on the dining table, showcasing your handiwork before you and Wanda would put them on the front lawn for the rest of the neighbourhood to admire. You smiled proudly at your pumpkin craving skills while Wanda admired your design of a butterfly with a skull on the inside, “how did you get so good at pumpkin carving?” Wanda asked, surprised. 

“Years of practice baby girl, besides, I may or may not have had some practice the other week while you were at work” you replied. 

“You pumpkin carved without me?” Wanda turned to you with a cocked brow. 

“In my defence, I was just helping the kids” 

Wanda chuckled, “yeah I’m sure you were”

“It looks like you’ve been practicing too” you replied, shifting the attention to her pumpkin of a scared character. “Oh no, no practice, I just have pre-perfect skills” Wanda smirked before placing a kiss on your cheek. You playfully shook your head at her, “shall we go outside and find the perfect spot for them?” you asked. 

“We shall” Wanda smiled warmly before carefully picking up her pumpkin. 

Your & Wanda's pumpkins. (I do not own this images, all rights go to Getty images!)

Taglist:  @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @karmasgxrl | @milkeeteaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @mostlymarvelsstuff | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @anonwhowrites | @itsmelulu | @koinsss | @cigarsandscotchallday | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | @prentgarcialuvr | @stayevildarling | @mommysgoodlittlebrat | @mrromanoff | @starryskiesandboys | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[gilverrwrites]

Their Perfect Dates HCs [Demon Edition]

Well.. demons + Benny

Rating: General

Angel Edition | Human Edition

Please remember: you can do hard things!

Belphegor

No gift, he’s from a time before that was a thing and does not care enough to check what the current trends are.

If you ask nice enough, he might bring you something next time.

Weirdly obsessed with humans however. (Just not in a ‘I wanna be like them’ way)

Find a cafe with outdoor seating in a highly populated area, and people watch.

Laugh at his jokes, and don’t be precious over your food/drink cause he’s gonna help himself.

‘Hot, not, not, HOT, extra hot.’ ‘This is so good, have you tried this?’ ‘It was yours? Oh shit, sorry. At least you have good taste… in multiple ways’ (he’d wink at you then, if he could.) ‘Ew have those pants ever in fashion?’ ‘Haha, did you see that kid face plant the side walk?! Get rekt’

Benny

He’s an old traditional man really, he’ll bring you a bouquet of daisies. Legitimately, if he could, he would ask your father for permission to take you out.

Cooking as has always been, and continues to be a big part of Benny's personality.

It doesn’t matter that the food no longer sustains him, because it keeps him connected to his home, and his history.

Plus, the way to any person's heart is through their stomach,

You’ll be in the kitchen together, cooking gumbo or jambalaya, and bananas foster for dessert.

If you don’t know how to cook, don’t worry. Benny is gonna take the lead anyway, he’ll teach you as much as you think you can handle.

He’s very respectful, but if you just so happen to brush against each other while working in the same space, well, that just can be helped now can it?

Or if you’re slightly in his way, sometimes he just needs to rest a gentle but firm hand on your hip and guide you to the side.

Or if you accidentally get something on your cheek? Your lip? He’ll have to get that for you.

Crowley

I’m picturing a rustic but sophisticated cabin in the woods.

Somewhere private, a safe space just for the two of you.

Something with a big, roaring fireplace.

A big, plush, velvety sofa, and an array of fluffy blankets, pillows, furs, rugs.

A fully stocked bar. ‘Don’t worry darling, you won’t have to lift a finger.’ He or a lesser demon will make all your drinks for you.

Just some real, 1 on 1 quality time together where you can both be vulnerable.

Whether you spend all night in deep conversation, cuddling, or getting even more intimate is your choice.

Meg

Would forget to bring you a gift, but if it goes well, she’ll likely give you one of her many pieces of jewelry, ‘Whatever you like most hun, just take it.’

I feel like she would actually really enjoy something creative, the messier the better.

Like finding a big open space, lowering the lights, laying down a big canvas, cracking open a bottle, and getting busy with some paints.

No brushes, just hands (or other body parts if you like).

Rowena

Gracing you with her presence is gift enough.

If anything, you should be bringing her a gift. Jewelry is always best, but she will settle for roses or red wine.

Rowena knows her worth, and if you don’t, then don’t waste her time.

She deserves nothing less than to be wined and dined somewhere very nice.

Followed by a show. The ballet or the opera.

Just imagine, the both of you dressed to the nines. Holding hands over the table, good food and drink, Rowena sharing stories from her time on earth.

Coffee or dessert? Both. Please and thank you.

Ruby

Would bring you candy, but you have to share.

Also a big foodie, but more eating, less cooking.

Like a street food market, or a boardwalk.

You can compete on the water guns and ring toss games to win each other prizes.

She’s only letting you win if there is something in it for her. – Particularly a prize that she wants.

Regardless of who wins what, you’re gonna be the one carrying everything.

Then stop at every food stand on the way.

Bonus points for somewhere that has proper french fries in large portions.

Afterwards, you can chat at the end of the peer, and/or make out under it. 

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 15

Summary: A way home was finally found a year after you rejected Malleus's advances. Once you got home and were settled in, an invitation made it's way to you, written to you by Malleus Draconia, King of Briar Valley. How many years have passed?

(I've been on an odd writing spree, but for my original writings. It's weird, but I'll take it! Anyways, have a what-if situation of a King Malleus still yearning for the Prefect! Might continue it if people are interested enough in this what-if scenario.)

"Then would it be possible," Malleus reaching out to you as you faced the star-filled sky, "for you and I to share in each others lives?"

…and so the day finally came. When Malleus would gather up his courage and confess in the way all faeries do, in sentences layered over passionate feelings.

Honestly, the thought of being in a relationship with Malleus didn't sound all that bad. He's a sweet man, if a bit air headed with how easily lost in.

You do feel bad, honestly, for the fact that your feelings never ran deeper than general interest. You don't yearn for him, you can't. Especially not when you know that he's a prince. If you want to love him properly, if you want to build upon this general interest, you'd have to accept that specific part of him.

However, when you imagine the future laying before you, you see that it has nothing to do royalty.

Malleus has done nothing wrong. It's just unfortunate that he's a prince. His future was simply not one that will mesh well with your own.

"My life in my own," you said, "I don't intent to share it anymore than I already have. I'm… simply not interested."

You knew him too well. You can't pretend to be ignorant and go through hoops just to convince yourself that surely he didn't mean that, that he meant something different and that it's all platonic. Because, to you, that's just an excuse to not be blunt and say no. To avoid hurting the other party.

But avoiding what needs to be said is worse.

So, you had to reject him and leave it at that. You didn't like hurting him, but you also can't delude yourself and think that everything will somehow work out, especially since your feelings don't match his own.

Malleus didn't push and you didn't make him leave. And so you both stayed, continuing on as you always have, two people with positions too unique to truly be ignored.

The day came that you would leave. You said your goodbyes, you had your parties and feasts, and when all was said and done, you were relieved to be leaving. To finally go back home.

You waved to them all, to all the people you've met along the way, and passed through the mirror without a second glance back.

Time barely passed by when you got home. So little time, in fact, that your phone was still near to full battery. Dust didn't collect on your bed or dining table like you expected, and there wasn't a single voice message or text asking about your whereabouts.

It's as if you didn't vanish at all. Well, to be fair, you weren't the kind of person to keep in constant or close touch with anyone. You liked your alone time a little more than the average person, but it wasn't anything to make you feel guilty over.

In fact, you're relieved, that only a minimal amount of time has escaped you. You didn't have to go home to frantic worries, to people getting angry out of concern for your sudden disappearance. Everything was calm and level. It was easy enough to go back to the routine you had before.

You missed this, you will admit that. You missed the air and scent of your bed, the grocery store and all its busy chatting, the scent of baked or fried snacks surrounding the local flea market, and even the way the wind flows through the trees. Sure sure, the land you were previously in had all these things, but they weren't yours if that made sense.

Honestly, after a while, you were almost convinced that everything that went on back in Night Raven College was just a dream. If only because, like a dream, you can really only enter and exit such places once.

But then an invitation entered your hand.

Addressed to you, handwritten in such a way that can only be taught in professional calligraphy classes. It tells of a tour around the gardens in the abode of the King of Briar Valley.

King, huh? Has that much time really passed? Putting that aside for a moment, you can't say you were shocked that, out of all people to be able to send a letter right to you, you would place your bets on Malleus.

That being said, you couldn't say no. It's been a while but you're familiar with Malleus's language. A simple tour just for the sake of a tour? No, that's not it at all. He probably misses you. And, to an extent, you miss being over there. A visit is probably due right about now.

And, if things go the same way as they did last time, you'll be gone then back in the blink of an eye.

So, you wrote your reply and placed in on the nearest full body mirror.

You probably should've practiced your landing when it comes to mirror traveling. You fell right through, though you were lucky enough to grab the edge of the mirror before you could crack your knees.

Immediately, you were hit with the scent of cold and old magic, that sharp scent, not quite ozone, less metallic than that, less chemical-like than that. It was neutral magic, subdued in smell but overpowering enough to fill your sense anyway.

It's been a hot minute since you've been here. You're not quite to magic anymore, and you couldn't help but start coughing and clearing your throat.

Then, you were practically washed away with the smell of fresh rosemary.

"You…" And, as you expected, his voice stayed the same, and yet you can hear it, that small bit of quivering, as though he can't believe what's before him. "So, the invitation did make its way towards you, dear Child of Man. Are you alright? Are you sick?"

You held out your hand and coughed into your hand, trying to get this weird stickiness out.

"I'm, ugh, I'm fine, Hornton," Ah, should you really be calling him that now that he's king, apparently? Ah, who cares, you're the guest, you can be forgiven. "It's been a bit. Not all that used to magic anymore, is all."

And then, you looked up. Before, you wouldn't say his horns were malleable or soft, but there is a difference to them. Their color has darkened, and there these silver decorations about them that made those horns seem longer than they actually are.

There was a laugh. "Are my horns truly such a marvel? Well, if you so ask, I won't mind you touching them, if only to prove to you that they are no mere illusion."

"No, I'm good on that front," you sighed then finally looked to Malleus's face. "Huh. You look… older."

Older, and that's honestly kind of concerning for you. He isn't aged, not in the same way you've felt around Lilia. Yes yes, Lilia has a youthful face to him, but after a while, you can't help but notice the little things that betray his true age. Much like now, where you can see the slightest dips in his eyes, near his mouth.

Like most fae, they seem forever young, but the signs don't skip anyone no matter long they stay alive.

The fact is, enough time has passed that Malleus visibly aged.

Malleus, in all his kingly regalia, closed his eyes and took a deep breathe in. "It hasn't been that long. How many years…twenty? Perhaps thirty or less? Ah but, that's an age for children of men, isn't it? And yet, time hasn't so much as glanced at you. You look just the same as I remember, perhaps more youthful. But, that aside, I'm glad to know that this invitation made it you, before life has left your body."

…thirty years? Thirty years? So, time really does pass by differently in your home, huh? That's… you don't know what to think, honestly. Awful? Interesting? It certainly doesn't feel good.

"That long? How much did I miss?" Were there reunions? Letters written to you but could never be sent? And how is everyone else doing with their lives? Are they still alive? Did someone die an early death potentially? And what about families? Did they start some?

…ugh, you hate this feeling. You only have theories and questions and already you're feeling left out from it all.

Well, all you can do is take it one step at a time. Get to know what has happened, and move forward from there. You have no choice but to do so.

Malleus placed a gloved hand on his chin. "…it would take too much time to say right now. Perhaps I'll tell you all that I know as I walk you around the garden? You did accept the invitation, did you not?"

Your mind wasn't quite here, so you just nodded with a, "Right, right."

"Then," Malleus turned, his hair much longer now, perfectly groomed without a knot in there, "shall we be off?"

And you followed, feeling a bit awkward in the fact you were just wearing casual wear.

"…is that lipstick you're wearing, Hornton?" Probably not what you should be focusing on, but you couldn't help but notice. You're more used to his pallid lips than that luscious color.

"Hmm? Why, yes. It was shade recommended to me by one of my servants. If I remember right, this was something crafted by Schoenheit."

"Oh, so his stuff's world famous now, I take it?"

"World famous? Hmm, not quite sure what that entails, but the influence has made its place here. So, influential enough. Does it look odd on me?"

"Don't worry, it looks nice."

[sinkovia]

Black Market: III

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Mention of sexual assault, mention of Simon Riley's canon backstory, light angst.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

A few weeks passed and with thousands of dollars now sitting in your bank account, you began to reassess the deal you had made with Simon, realizing that it wasn't as terrible as you had initially thought. Slowly, you found yourself lowering your defenses and growing more at ease in his presence and the space around you.

Simon respected your wish to not accompany him on contracts, so you found yourself reluctantly harvesting organs from someone he had killed just minutes ago. It was a grim task, but you saw it as the least you could do for him being so cooperative with your demands.

As you worked, Simon leaned against the counter, watching you tear apart the insides of the man and carefully placing his organs into iced containers. "Thought you wanted to save lives? Here you are tearing into a man I only killed minutes ago," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes at his comment.

"You offered me twenty thousand knowing I'm in desperate need of money. You're a sick man, Simon," you retorted, continuing your work without missing a beat. Simon simply smiled, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

He looked at the dead man split in half on the table and then to you, marveling at your focused precision and fast hands as you expertly took him apart.

"You think you could've brought him back?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. You smiled as you took out the last part, carefully placing his heart in the ice chest and sealing the container shut. Then, you turned to Simon, your smile lingering.

"I know I could have," you replied confidently. "But he would have been brain dead."

With that, you took off your gloves and sighed before heading up the steps to your bedroom for a much-needed shower. Simon remained in the basement, his mind swirling with questions about you. He had never cared for anyone before; his life had revolved around accepting contracts and killing people for money. 

No socializing, no interests, no curiosity for other people. But you were different. There was something about you that intrigued him, something that made him want to peel back the layers and uncover your past.

Simon formed a plan in his head to extract any sliver of information from you that would allow him to delve into your history. He needed to know what made you such a skilled doctor at such a young age, considering that medical school takes years of study and experience to achieve the level of proficiency you display. 

You were lying in bed, engrossed in the book that Simon had so graciously bought for you when the savory aroma of garlic and herbs wafted into the room.

Your stomach grumbled in response, prompting you to abandon your reading and make your way to the kitchen. Simon looked up as he set two plates down on the dining table.

"Made you dinner to make up for earlier,"

You raised a skeptical eyebrow as you surveyed the meal before you, but your doubts vanished the moment you took the first bite. "Holy shit, I didn't think you knew how to cook like this," genuine surprise evident in your tone.

A smile tugged at Simon's lips at your reaction. "Wanted to be a cook when I was younger," he admitted casually.

Which hadn’t been a lie, when he was younger he dreamed of opening his own restaurant.

Your eyebrows raised at his revelation. You hadn't expected him to be so open about himself. Relaxing into your chair, you took a sip of wine before sharing a bit of your own past. "I wanted to be a florist."

Simon's interest was piqued, finally getting a glimpse into your backstory. "Florist to surgeon? Pretty different occupations," he remarked, taking a sip of his own wine.

You laughed as you finished your glass and reached for the bottle to pour yourself more. "From a cook to a hitman?" you teased lightly.

Simon grinned in response. "Fair enough.”

Curious about what had steered him away from his childhood dream, you prodded gently, "What steered you away?"

Simon's expression shifted briefly, a flicker of memories passing through his eyes as he glanced down at his plate. "Different circumstances,"

Reflecting on your own past, you nodded in understanding. "Yeah, me too," you murmured, the weight of shared experiences hanging in the air between you.

As the evening wore on and a few more glasses of wine were shared between you and Simon, you found yourself loosening up. Eventually, you began to vent about your past jobs, particularly about a hospital where the nurses were brain dead fucks. You launched into a rant about all of them, each one seemingly worse than the last.

Simon listened intently, his grin widening as he realized the wealth of information you were unwittingly providing him. With each complaint, he mentally cataloged the names and details, knowing that he now had enough clues to get a glimpse into your past.

That night as you slept upstairs, Simon delved into the depths of the internet, scouring through various websites until he stumbled upon a list of old employers associated with your previous job. It didn't take long for him to piece together the missing parts of your identity, and soon enough, he discovered your last name.

Simon navigated through the dark web, his fingers typing in your name with a mixture of curiosity. What he found made his stomach clench.

Before him lay a website, one he was all too familiar with, an organization specializing in sex work. As he scrolled through, he saw old listings featuring you, offering your services for hire. He glanced away when he clicked on a link and saw pictures of you dressed in scant clothing, your eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

You were only a teenager, no older than seventeen.

His eyes read over an old listing offering a hefty reward for anyone who could locate and return you to them. 

It didn't even cross his mind to entertain the idea of betraying you. In his eyes, you were worth infinitely more than any sum of money or reward. As he sat there, reflecting on your past and the horrors you endured, he couldn't fathom the thought of dragging you back into that nightmarish world.

Your value to him went beyond any material gain, your skill as a doctor made you irreplaceable. And as someone who understood the pain of being used, he couldn't bear the thought of subjecting you to that kind of life again.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair, everything suddenly made sense, your reluctance to work for him, your aversion to joining him on contracts.

He hadn't expected you to be remotely tied to the black market, let alone be a victim of it. He had unknowingly brought you back to a world you were desperately trying to escape.

You find yourself unable to sleep, plagued by a throbbing headache that refuses to go away. Desperate for relief, you make your way down to the basement in search of Advil, hoping it will alleviate the pounding in your head. As you reach the last step of the basement you see simon at his desk with his back turned toward you.

Your eyes glance at the computer screen and your heart plummets.

Images of your younger self, captured and exploited, sold into a life of servitude and suffering. The shock of seeing your own face reflected back at you in such a vulnerable state leaves you reeling, the pain in your head momentarily forgotten in the wake of this unwelcome intrusion into your past.

"Happy with what you found?" The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, your voice tinged with bitterness. Simon's startled expression told you he hadn't anticipated your arrival, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and guilt.

"Just wanted to know who you were… wanted to know why you didn’t want to work for me," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of remorse.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the screen, the images of your younger self serving as a painful reminder of the horrors you endured.

"Sometimes people want their lives and past to be private," you murmured, your words heavy with the weight of years of suffering and trauma.

Simon knew that feeling better than anyone.

"I'm sorry," Simon offered, his apology hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

"No, you're not," you muttered bitterly, turning away and ascending the steps. As you disappeared from view, he sighed heavily, sinking back into his chair.

“Fuckin hell.”

The next morning, you found Simon waiting for you with breakfast prepared, a silent acknowledgment of his attempt to bridge the gap between you. Awkwardly, you took your seat at the table, the tension between you thick as you both ate in silence. The weight of his invasion of your privacy hung heavily in the air.

But then, as if unable to bear the tension any longer, Simon spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of his own past.

"The reason I didn't pursue my dream as a kid was because I enlisted in the military… my captain sold me out and I was captured, tortured, and used... anything to break my will and force me into blind obedience to their commands."

"I escaped," he continued, "After being buried alive and digging my way out with the jaw of the rotting corpse I was buried with. I made it home, went to therapy, and fixed my family troubles."

As he spoke, you could feel the weight of his trauma, the scars etched into his very being. "My teammates were also captured, but they were brainwashed. When I returned home one night, I found my family dead, my former team being responsible for their deaths. I hunted them down with the help of the black market and killed them. Since then, I've remained in this line of work.."

You sat there in stunned silence, his words sinking in like heavy stones in a pond. Simon continued to eat as if what he had just revealed was just another fact of life.

In that moment, you realized he already knew so much about your past; perhaps it was time to lay it all bare. With a heavy heart, you met his gaze, finding a shared understanding in the depths of his eyes.

“I was seventeen when a few men broke into my house one night, dragged me and my parents into the living room, and made me watch as they tortured my dad and had their way with my mom before killing the both of them.”

Your focus shifted to the small droplets of water falling against the side of your cup, each one mirroring the weight of the memories you carried.

“I was sold around before I made my way to the organization you were looking at last night. There was a group of us, we were sold to different men for our services.” The room fell silent as you paused, your gaze dropping to your lap for a few moments.

Simon, ever perceptive, sensed your discomfort in revisiting those painful moments from your past. “You don't have to talk about it, love,” he said gently, his voice carrying an understanding tone. “I understand—”

“A lot of the girls were rebellious, so they would get taught lessons,” you cut him off, your voice carrying the weight of each painful memory.

“That's where I learned how to patch up the girls with very little supplies. The man in charge noticed, so he made me start patching up the men who worked for him.” You picked at the skin around your nails as you furrowed your brows. Simon’s gaze never left you, his eyes bouncing over your facial expressions.

“Their injuries weren’t just simple scratches and cuts. They would get stabbed, or shot, and when I failed to save one of them, he made me watch as he tortured one of the girls, killing her slowly as my punishment… It happened two more times after that. I wasn't a fucking surgeon, I didn't know what I was doing.” you recounted, your now fingers picking at the hem of the place mat, the memories still haunting you.

“My lack of skill resulted in the deaths of three girls. I spent five years there, playing doctor for him when he needed it and earning him money with my services. During one of my transports for a service, the car was attacked by one of their rivals, which allowed me to escape. Now I'm here.”

The weight of those years is heavy in your voice. The barriers between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a shared understanding of the pain and suffering you both carried within you.

"I became skilled out of necessity; failure meant the death of innocent girls."

You took a deep breath before locking eyes with him. “I'm sorry about what happened to you and your family. You didn't deserve that."

You paused for a second before continuing, "I wish you never enlisted.” His brows furrowed as he studied your expression. “Why?”

“Because you’d be working at some restaurant, and I would have never met you or been dragged back into this business.” Simon exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair.

“You're safe here. We're nowhere near Russia, and if someone tried to fulfill the contract, I’d be here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows, your voice tinged with confusion. “What contract?”

“There’s an eight hundred thousand dollar contract open to whoever can deliver you back to Finn.” Your expression twisted with disgust at the mention of his name, recalling the fear he instilled in you for years.

“When was the contract posted?” Simon shook his head. “Years ago.” You nodded slowly as you picked at your food with your fork.

“I'm sorry, for digging into your past and dragging you back into this, you didn’t deserve that. If you want to leave you can.”  You smiled and scoffed, “And pass up a free bodyguard, free five-star meals, and easy money? Yeah right.” Simon laughed and you smiled.

“Resourceful girl.”

“What can I say.” 

You finished off your breakfast with a comfortable silence and some light back and forth about a new contract Simon was thinking about accepting. Simon picked up both plates and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher.

“A colleague of mine is coming in two weeks or so, he’s going to help me with a contract.” 

You hummed and nodded your head, “Where is he going to stay?”

Simon grabbed a bowl of fruit out of the fridge and started picking at it. “He’s staying here.” You furrowed your brows and leaned against the counter next to Simon, your arm grazing his slightly as you reached for a strawberry in the bowl.

He watched as you brought the plump strawberry to your lips, looking away before you glanced back up at him. “What’s he like?”

“Don’t worry, you're safe around him, he is Scottish though.” You lifted your brow as you looked up at him, “Is being Scottish bad?”

“Bastard will talk your ear off.” 

Black market tag list: @shinchanboi @talooolaaloolla @lieutenantlashfaz @neothewitch @birdienotting @jupiternighties @samiiii333 @silverianni @elowynnlane @lotionlamp @ssc7514 @iloveloveeducks @rejectedbytheempty

If you want to be added or removed from the main tag list or the Black market tag list just lmk!