#I THOUGHT THERE WERE MORE SKETCHES but apparently not ?????????!!

[diushek]

Shen Yuan concept without being a NEET just because my sister and I thought of this and lol we had a good time

So Shen Yuan is this rich kid and all, but he actually has this hobby that started taking up 80% of his free time: designing clothes. He started out as a cosmaker, can you blame him? Cosplays are so poor quality these days. And Shen Yuan is used to good quality clothes even if they are just simple t-shirts. So when he started realizing how pathetically expensive some cosplays were compared to their quality, he just... Well, he had to design his own!

Little by little, he evolved. And one day his wealthy family found him this job designing clothes for xianxia dramas, and Shen Yuan, a little delirious, accepted. It's okay! He designed a lot of sketches inspired by arts, historical research here and there, things that also looked nice and realistic. Shen Yuan enjoys his job almost as much as he enjoys criticizing each new PIDW chapter. How is it possible that they've been thirty chapters into that subplot and there have been more papapa scenes than a resolution?! Outrageous!

Shen Yuan designs a lot. He still works as a cosmaker, as he really enjoys doing embroidery. It's a time-consuming job, but he gets paid well and his cosplays are the best in the entire community. His family is happy that he has left his lonely life and has this job and this new business experience, they congratulate him on his new achievements, they urge him to enroll in some university fashion or clothing design.

Shen Yuan dismisses it. He misses his life as a NEET a little, but in reality on his days off he just plays around and does nothing, which is the same thing he does on his work days, except he embroiders and sews or draw on those work days. Days so busy, they are not.

So Airplane ends PIDW like absolute shit, Shen Yuan drowns and dies.

And he opens his eyes. Well, what the hell. It doesn't take long for him to discover that he transmigrated into an NPC. Tailored, apparently, because he's an no-name NPC apprentice to a spider demon seamstress!

He has a lot of knowledge about all of this, so it doesn't take him long to put it into practice. His teacher congratulates him and he makes a lot of sales. Soon, he gains a very good reputation. Maidens from other kingdoms come to Shen Yuan to design clothes for them for festivals, for dances, for family celebrations. Shen Yuan designs, sews, embroiders. It's not far from his old life, although he misses Project Sekai and caffeine a little.

He opens his own workshop almost a year later, with the goodwill of his demon teacher. She warns him of something: Shen Yuan is a thread woven to another soul. And soon, his soulmate will come for him.

Shen Yuan is a little nervous, but, oh well! A soulmate! If only!

He knows, for a fact, that that's impossible. They're in the disgusting world of PIDW, and at least half of the dresses he's made have been for Binghe's future wives. Some would even be torn apart without any care! What a waste of his time and effort!

He doesn't think about it too much. Shen Yuan just focuses on his work. He designs, sews, embroiders. He sleeps little but enjoys the smile on the faces of the Meimei's when they hug the pretty fabrics. It is, despite everything, a good life.

Then, Emperor Luo Binghe arrives at his door.

In person. Not with servants, not with a letter, not with an invitation. It is Emperor Luo Binghe who arrives at his door.

Of course Shen Yuan is going to make robes for the emperor! There's no need for him to ask or offer to pay for them! He's nervous and a little scared, but Luo Binghe is... well, he doesn't seem to have no kind of threatening aura or any kind of charm. He asks him for the designs of some robes and stays there while Shen Yuan makes the first sketches. Luo Binghe gives more directions, more corrections... And Shen Yuan discovers that Luo Binghe is requesting Qing Jing robes from him, if the fanarts are accurate. He tears off that sheet of paper, starts another sketch with Qing Jing's exact robes without uttering any words, leaving Luo Binghe speechless as well. Luo Binghe nods, correcting details of length and shape, not even asking or saying anything about designs of cultivators clothing, and Shen Yuan has to move on to the... er, awkward part. He has to almost strip Luo Binghe to take his measurements!

Ignore that part. His face is very red when he finishes, but he has the exact measurements of his back, his arms, the size of his fit, his length and width, everything necessary to work with the first molds.

Shen Yuan has no idea why Emperor Luo Binghe wants Qing Jing's robes. He won't ask either, he values his tongue very much. So, he just decides to continue his work like a good professional, embroidering every detail to perfection (he has done two Ning Yingying cosplays in the past, so, it was easy to him remember the embroidered patterns).

Maybe he makes it too perfect.

Luo Binghe is looming over him, his new robes on display, eyes red with fury, zuiyin shining on his forehead.

"Cang Qiong has been burned for more than two hundred years. How can a weak mortal like you recreate these patterns so perfectly?"

Shen Yuan has three options, honestly.

a) Tell him he's a transmigrator. He doesn't have any fucking System, and maybe telling him he's from another world will save him from his imminent death... But he highly doubts Luo Binghe will believe him.

b) Telling him that he's a reborn soul! That he may have worked for the sect in the past! It's not a bad idea, and it's actually quite common, isn't it? Some souls are reborn with some memories, huh, not bad...

c) Not saying anything and playing dumb.

Shen Yuan chooses to play dumb, only because he doesn't have enough brain cells and is so panicked that he can play the reborn.

"I don't know what Junshang is telling me! I just followed the directions and patterns in the design given by Jungshang!"

Luo Binghe does not strangle him. Makes things worse.

Luo Binghe carries him over his shoulder and carries him away. This is kidnapping?! Shen Yuan is being kidnapped from his own shop in broad daylight!? And obviously no one is going to stop him!!

And so, Luo Binghe simply puts him in a room somewhere in the palace, gives him some papers and many tools so he can draw and tells him to design something that he like. And he leaves.

... That is, a kind of test? Is Luo Binghe testing him in some way? Ah, he hopes his customers will be understanding. He's sorry for the delay in their dresses, but Emperor Luo Binghe has kidnapped this seamstress, but he hope to get back to business soon!!

(Luo Binghe is having the closest thing to astral travel. Why does that boy who looks like a young and sweet version of Shen Qingqiu know the patterns of Qing Jing so well? Is he his own "kind" Shen Qingqiu in this world? So why does he act like this and not like a haughty teacher? What should he do?

At least he brought him to his palace. He's not sure if he's the person he's looking for, but, well... he's not really going to let him out of his sight. Just in case.)

[raspberryusagi]

Me, rambling to my wife about this crackpot theory I came up with in the shower about how Les Miserables may have been an answer to The Count of Monte Cristo, or at least could be read as such: ... But then Valjean didn't personally screw Javert over like Dantes' enemies did-

My wife: Are you sure Valjean didn't screw Javert? I thought I read that on AO3 once.

[aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa69]

Idek If Cafae Latte has a fandom on here but have a Bob!!

(Close-ups under the cut)

[astranauticus]

oh lol i forgot to post this robit sketches! because i have one (1) bit and im sure as hell gonna commit to it apparently

[angelfoodscake]

thinking about that gay ass pirate au again

unfinished doodles under the cut

[tiny-space-platypus]

Part 5 Not your average field trip

Previous

Dani had learned that rich people school is SO much different from regular school in the past month and a half. She was actually learning something here unlike the school she used to go to where she'd just sit bored most of the time. She had learnt quite a bit actually. Something that really angered her was realizing that her class bullied Mr.Brother mistaking, bad attitude, Damian Wayne. Though they never actually touched him, just rumors, rather awful jokes, and mean spirited memes. Apparently being a Wayne meant he was practically immune to physical bullying. Something about the others being afraid of his family ruining theirs. Did the Waynes have that much power?

Whatever, Dani has decided she was going to be this boy's friend. So instead of hanging around the other kids she hung around Damian her protective core claiming him as a friend meaning she'd protect him.

Talking to him was almost insufferable though. He was soooooo uptight till Dani started noticing his sketches. Well, that was something they could actually bond over since talking wasn't working. So Dani started bringing her own sketch book though her drawings were mostly blueprints like her brother, she also did like just drawing regular things as well. They might not talk when they spend time together (both finding each other's voice insufferable) but they did share drawings and sometimes even blueprints that the Dannies worked on together. Damian had even admitted they were good! Her brother and her even getting a compliment out of Mr. Always scowling Damian Wayne! Dani got way too excited over that almost falling out of the tree she was dangling from. He compared her to Mr.Grayson Wayne, she huffed when he told her that wasn't a compliment.

Today was like every other day of school. They'd sit in class, do whatever they need to then go out to recess like the rest of the kids. Dani would play games with the other kids for the first half then go sit at the tree with Damian to draw. She was always sitting in the tree hanging upside down. Dani insists it's the best way to draw but Damian doesn't believe her. She's just weird. Anyways today Damian decided to talk with Danielle. "Are you excited for the field trip?" Dani looked down at Damian confused. She didn't know there was a field trip and certainly didn't pay for her spot. She wasn't sure if she could pay for it. "Field trip? I didn't get anything for a friend trip. Did we have to pay for tickets?" Damian scoffed at Danielle not knowing anything about the field trip. They had been talking about in class for a week now. "No you don't need to pay we're going as a class to an aerospace museum. I thought you'd be excited." Just by the look in Danielle's eyes he'd released he messed up. Not that he had upset her but he had hit something she was going to non-stop talk about for the rest of recess. He groaned internationally, at least her rambling was intelligent.

Apparently Gotham academy loved going on field trips and today was supposed to be one of those days. They were going to go to Metropolis to go see The BEST aerospace museum so Dani was excited. She loved space about as much as her brother did after all. Her and her class all got on the bus together and happily chartered with each other, Dani of course sat next to Damian. They were close now after all even if their relationship wasn't built on talking. Damian rolled his eyes at her since she was practically shaking with excitement. Damian and her spent time before the bus ride started doodling for each other then when everyone else got on the bus Dani became much more social with the other students. Telling them about space and aircraft and all sorts of constellations, even drawing them out for them. Everything was going great!

But of course, she was a Nightingale and this was Gotham and things have been going too well for too long. Apparently the weirdo and his gain of fruitloops is the Scarecrow and his goons. As soon as the bus started down the main road the bus was hijacked and forced off course to a graveyard that the Scarecrow used as his base. Dani frowned as they ran over graves and that whenever one of her classmates moved a gun would be pointed towards them. She wasn't afraid they'd actually use it though, they had no intent to kill them if she read their emotions right. She noticed how whenever they threatened someone Damian tensed but in a way that felt more like he was ready to fight not run. Interesting.

Dani was going to wait, she knew that heroes were coming eventually so they wouldn't be missing too long. Then one of the goons mentioned something about them being subjects. Experiments, they were going to be their experiments. Danielle refused to be an experiment again.

Damian had pressed his panic button as soon as the bus was taken over. He could have done something, could have taken out every one of these goons and could have had them back on track to their field trip but that would have blown his cover. He can't blow his cover, he can't put his family in danger. He'd have to wait for the others, he'd have to wait to be rescued.

It was interesting watching Danielle's reactions, she didn't seem scared at all. Actually the only time she seemed any sort of upset was when they ran over grave stones mumbling something about disrespect. Then in an attempt to scare them more the goons brought up the tests they were going to do on them. How they were going to use fear Toxin on them, a new branch of it and they were the first test subjects. Danielle tender at that then tried to get up only to be pulled back down by Damian who was looking at her with a 'what the fuck are you doing?!' Causing her to just smile at him, it was different from her normal smile, this one didn't feel human. This one felt threatening, Damian barely managed to pull her down again. Whispering urgently to her. "Danielle don't- The bats will be here soon, they'll deal with them. Don't kill yourself"

Danielle begrudgingly sat back down next to Damian who now refused to let go of her hand so she didn't do something stupid. So now they were stuck waiting.

It took another 15 minutes to get to their location though they weren't off loaded from the bus. Instead the emergency exit was pressed against a mound of dirt and someone was guarding each one of the emergency exits. They took the role called lists from the adults, guess that was how they were going to determine who it reacts best to. There was a gas canister attached to the top emergency exit. Both Danielle and Damian just stared at it though nothing happened, nothing was coming out frustrating the goon who was supposed to control it. Damian then noticed Danielle's hand growing colder and colder.

They threw in a gas grenade into the bus hitting the adults in the front with gas before stuttering and stopping completely. When the second one was thrown in the one on top stuttered dripping out the concentrated fear toxin.

Dani was creating ice over the exit points for the gas preventing it from spreading but it was slowly getting harder to hold as more grenades were thrown in. This would be so much easier if she could transform but she couldn't do that here. Her reading was probably already going through the roof meaning the GIW- No focus. Just prevent the gas from getting more people. Prevent more people from becoming experiments. She got colder. She looked at Damian for a second then tried to pull her hand away as another grenade was thrown in, instead of the pale yellow of the others this one was bright blood red. Danielle breathed some of it in before freezing that one too. Blood bloom gas, they had blood bloom gas. She choked on it about as much as Damian did. He squeezed her hand as he began to hallucinate. He then attacked her just as the bats finally began to show up taking out the goons and of course losing Scarecrow.

Danielle was holding her own against Damian who was currently trying to tear out her throat. Both now tussling on the ground. Both of them breaking ribs, blackened eyes, broken noses, the works as they battled. This would have been fun if they weren't both poisoned. Maybe when all is said and done Damian would agree to fight her again. Without poison.

Eventually though they were pulled away from each other. Batman holding Damian down as he sprayed something into the kid's face. Danielle almost attacked Batman for it till Damian calmed down and held onto the bat. She hadn't been paying attention to the Red one looking her over and asking questions. She was still breathing heavily from the poison and fighting. His voice caught her attention.

"Ms, are you alright?" RR asked as he touched the red trails left from the blood blooms under her skin. It wasn't a kind of poisoning he's seen before. She flinched away when he touched the trails. Danielle mumbled "Will be, it hurts though"

"We're going to get you to a hospital alright?" It took Danielle a solid 10 seconds before processing what RR had said. The look of pure panic on the little girl's face worried him. "No! No hospitals, No doctors!" Danielle could not go to a hospital, if she went to the hospital they'd realize she wasn't human and if they realized she wasn't human she'd be put back into a lab and Vlad and the GIW.

Danielle was now hyperventilating, causing RR to back track. "Alright, no hospitals. We won't take you to a hospital. Do you know where your home is, we can take you home." Danielle slowly got up and looked at RR then at Damian who was still holding onto Batman. She still looked a little panicked. "Is he going to be alright?" RR looked over at Damian and smiled softly. "Yeah he'll be alright, do you know him?" RR already knew that Damian had been keeping tabs on her but he still wanted to know what she thinks of his brother. "We're friends. Or maybe we were friends, I did break a few of his ribs" she paused and looked away from Damian then back at RR. "Can I go home? Please?" RR was still looking at Basn and Damian but did start to respond. "Yeah after-" he turned to look at her and she was gone. Huh, guess the kid's a meta.

As soon as RR said she could she turned invisible not listening to him complete his sentence. He said yes and that's all she needed. Danielle flew home where Danny was still in the middle of an online class. When she was him she immediately grabbed onto him sobbing. Dani sobbed then passed out mumbling something.

Slight problem, this wasn't Danny. This was Jason who was now very confused and concerned. Dani in her slightly delirious state went to the wrong apartment building. Seeing what she assumed was her brother she just let herself in not even trying the key. So now Jason had a kid in his safe house, who didn't have a key or set off any of the alarms, who looked like hell, now passed out on his couch.

Next

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌

nonnie asked: lately i noticed many writers writing about reader kissing character's face while wearing lipstick and therefore covering them in it and i found it so cute and then started to imagine your om!ocs and the modern au guys (…) being covered in lipstick kisses too […]

pairings: my genshin modern au guys (xiao :: scara :: aether :: kazuha :: heizou :: venti :: childe :: diluc :: kaeya), my obey me ocs (dantalion :: valefar :: stolas), my twst oc (cheron) x gn! reader

warnings: these lipsticks are not smudge-proof

a/n: as said i might write a full thing for one character when i have the chance but considering i have 13 characters here and i can only think of so many scenarios, i’m writing a few paragraphs each for now ^^;

original ask

modern au || dantalion || valefar || stolas || cheron

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

It had been a busy week in which you hadn’t seen much of each other, so when you finally made it to Friday evening, you were overjoyed to see your boyfriend again. Needless to say, when the door swung shut, the first thing you did was flutter some well-earned kisses across his face, not even bothering to take your make-up off.  So when Xiao spotted his reflection in the mirror, the flush on his cheeks wasn’t the only rose colour decorating his beautiful complexion. While you watched his blush darken, he couldn’t meet your eyes in the mirror and you giggled to yourself as you watched them snap to you when you pulled the neckline of his shirt out of the way and planted a final kiss on the base of his neck.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

It was your day off, so for once you weren’t out of the house before Scara, instead getting ready at the same time as him. You made him his usual morning coffee to go after he slept over, since he straight up refused to drink anyone else’s, and kissed him goodbye. Not long after he arrived at the piercing studio, notifications started blowing up your phone and you skimmed the furious string of texts, laughing to yourself. Apparently, Xiao hadn’t said anything about the smudge on the corner of his lips, leaving Heizou and Venti to have a field day when they came in, teasing him relentlessly even after he wiped it off.  As for the accusation that you did it on purpose, who was to say…

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“Do you still need the make up remover?” Aether asked from outside your bathroom door. You’d both just gotten back from an outing with the others from the piercing shop, staying longer than you initially intended. But that was what always happened. Venti could be very convincing and the group was too much fun to leave early. “I’m done, but I didn’t notice you wearing any makeup earlier,” you admitted, opening the door to let your boyfriend in.  “Well I wasn’t,” Aether sheepishly laughed, rubbing the base of his neck. And then you saw it. Faint traces of colour decorating his temple, cheek, the corner of his mouth and even the parts of his neck and chest not covered by his shirt. A shade that very closely resembled the lipstick you applied before going out. “You might be a bit of an affectionate drunk.” “Oh my— I’m so sorry, Aether,” you apologised, quickly searching around for some cotton pads and wiping the lipstick off his chest, trying not to linger on the thought too much. “Don’t worry, I thought it was cute,” he assured you, his warm smile seemingly lighting up the room. As you leaned in to clean his face, he took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from you as well. “You should wear it more often, it looked very pretty on you.”

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

Kazuha had come over for lunch, as he often did, taking a break from his coworkers between the plants, sketching if the time allowed for it. When you both had to return to work, you pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek and then rushed to help a customer. And while neither one of you noticed the colour dusting his cheek, the others sure did and wasted no time pointing it out, though all their teasing comments seemed to bounce right off of him.  He wiped the stain away before any customers came in, laughing off how he hadn’t noticed at all. “Of course you wouldn’t notice,” Heizou agreed, a knowing air about him. “After all, you’re way too busy making heart eyes at your florist to even think about looking anywhere else for a second.”

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“Hey honey, could you help me with something real quick?” You called your boyfriend over as you finished applying a new shade of lipstick you bought. As Heizou strolled up to where you were standing, you turned towards him with a smile. “What do you think? Do you like it?” “The colour looks beautiful on you,” he easily replied, sending you a flirtatious wink. “Though I’m not sure if it’s really the colour or just you being gorgeous that’s causing it. Now what did you need help with?” Wrapping one arm around his neck, you pulled him in for a kiss, making sure to firmly plant your lips against his. If your boyfriend was surprised at all, he masked it well, easily melting into the kiss. As you pulled away a little breathlessly, you grinned. “Just wanted to see if it’s really smudge-proof, though I guess it failed in that regard.” You traced a finger around the faint trace of colour on his lips as Heizou took the tube from you and applied the lipstick with pinpoint precision. Turning to you, his olive eyes were gleaming with mischief as he chuckled. “I think we should run a few more tests, just to be sure.”

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“This one’s for the song you wrote for me and this one’s for bringing me my favourite coffee without me asking,” you mused, studying your boyfriend’s face covered in pink-hued gloss marks. Somehow a kiss to the temple had ended with you caging Venti against the couch, fluttering a dozen kisses all over the skin you could reach. “Ehe, what can I say, I’m just the best boyfriend ever,” he giggled, tracing his fingers down the contours of your face in return. Then, something in his expression changed and you prepared yourself to shut down whatever idea he was about to propose next. “Maybe I should think about getting one of them tattooed? On my shoulder or so?” “Don’t you dare.”

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 Idol

Ever since you had caught a lot of heat from Childe’s manager for accidentally letting your boyfriend leave with a mark decorating his collarbones, you were very cautious of leaving any visible stains on him, even if it was just makeup.  Still, you found ways to work around this little inconvenience. There was one time you signed off a little post-it note you left on the fridge for him, wishing him good luck for a performance, with a lipstick stain. After seeing his reaction of childish glee, it became a staple in your relationship. Then again, whenever Childe came home from work with his makeup still on, he never failed to press a big, fat, lip gloss stained kiss on your cheek, chuckling like the menace he is when you make a show of wiping it off.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 Club Owner/ Bartender

Diluc had seen his fair share of shameless make outs during his time at the Angel’s Share and normally he just turned his head the other way, not sure why people would enjoy slobbering all over each other. Well, that was until he met you anyway.  Though he’d like to think he was more composed than the intoxicated people at his club, whenever you pressed your lips against his, he thought he might get drunk off of you. He swallowed hard when you pulled away, mind still trying to process what was happening as his eyes tracked the movement of your own kiss-swollen lips, not hasty to wipe away the traces of you against his skin.

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 Model

Kaeya actually revelled in it whenever you leave any type of mark on him, as long as it didn’t lead to a scolding from his manager. Whether it was something more durable like a hickey or something easily wiped off like a lipstick stain, Kaeya always looked very smug about it afterwards. After all, the marks were a testimony to the events that transpired previously, and what could he say, Kaeya enjoyed those very much. Even more so considering he knew his way around a makeup bag, confidently picking out shades that looked gorgeous on you and even more gorgeous when they were smudged around the corner of your lips and over his skin. In his opinion, every photo of the aftermath was more stunning than any of his cover shoots.

𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐞! 𝐎𝐂𝐬

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 Majolish Owner/ Devil Style Chief Editor

You walked in on Dantalion getting ready, his attention that was previously on his reflection in the vanity mirror flickering to you when you entered. His plush lips, curled into a loving smile, are painted in a flattering shade of red and your gaze was trained on them as you came to stand in front of him. “Are you trying a new shade? It suits you well.” “I am. I’m glad you like it,” he hummed, tilting his head in contemplation. “I wonder…” Cupping your cheek in his palm, the demon leaned towards you and you instinctively closed your eyes as his soft lips pressed against yours with purpose. As always his kisses made a part of your brain short circuit and you blinked at him dazedly for a moment after you parted. There was a satisfied gleam in his bright eyes as he wiped at your bottom lip with his thumb, studying the red stain he left. “As expected, it’s an even lovelier colour on you, my flower.”

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑 Casino Owner

“Little lamb, come here for a second.” Valefar was no stranger to finding your lipstick smudges at the rim of his drinks or wiping smudges of colour and gloss from his cheek before leaving for the casino after you gave him a kiss goodbye. He didn’t mind, found it cute even, but as he regarded the pink stain on the collar of his white dress shirt in the lounge’s mirror, he knew it won’t come off with a quick swipe of his thumb. It wasn’t a big deal, he kept spare shirts in his office, but Val wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to fluster you. “Care to explain yourself?” You were halfway through stuttering out a sheepish apology when Valefar backed you against his desk, keeping you pinned to him with a hand on your back. Intense amber eyes keep contact with yours as he leaned down to suck a noticeable hickey on the same spot his collar would be, knowing your clothes barely wouldn’t be able to hide it. “Debts should be repaid, wouldn’t you agree?”

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒 Popular Streamer

It was a pleasant day in the Devildom, as pleasant as it could be in a realm without the sun anyway, pulling the two of you out into town. While strolling from apparel stores to gaming shops, you passed a café you frequented and decided to stop by for some refreshments. As you pointed around various shop displays, you had the sinking feeling that your drink emptied faster than usual. And when you spotted the colourful stain that had transferred from your straw to your boyfriend’s lips, you caught the culprit red- handed (or rather red-lipped). When confronted he merely chuckled playfully before swooping in to steal a kiss on top of your drink, staining them with more of your lipstick and thereby destroying the evidence. (His straw also became more colourful as he offered you his drink as compensation.)

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐂

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 Prince of Hell

When Vil gifted you a set of lipsticks and glosses from a campaign he was part of and had no need for, you accepted them gratefully. You just finished sorting through all the shades and trying out a pretty shade of red, when there was a knock on your door and Cheron sauntered into your room.  “There you are,” he grinned, charming without even having to try, before pulling you close and stealing the air from your lungs with a kiss. For someone who claimed to not be interested in ferrying more souls to hell, he sure seemed intent on trying to kill you. “What’s this you got there? Vil’s new collab?” “Right you are,” you paused, peering around him to the lipstick tube in your hand and chuckling as you read the shade name. Pressing another kiss right onto the middle of his cheek as payback for his usual schemes, you took in the red matching the colour on the corner of his lips. “Don’t you think it’s a beautiful colour, Cherry? It does match your hair and eyes. Maybe I should start calling you that.” There was a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes, clearly aware of the red staining his face, as he swiped his thumb under your bottom lip where the lipstick left a smudge as well.  “You have a lot of nerve marking the Prince of Hell.” His grin showed off the points of his fangs more clearly now, clearly amused at your little stunt, taking a step forward and walking you backwards towards the edge of your bed. “That’s fine. If you can handle the consequences, that is.”

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[cosmerelists]

Pros and Cons of Stormlight Characters in the Middle Seat Next to You on a Budget Airline.

As requested by anon. :)

1. Kaladin

Cons: His legs are so long. His hair is so luxurious. His shoulders are so broad. This large, beautiful man is not trying to be in your space, but the budget airline seat cannot contain him. Pros: You started what you thought was an idle conversation, but by the end of your flight, he had diagnosed your chronic pain and become your therapist??

2. Shallan

Pros: Well, she's more of a regular-sized human and she's friendly but quiet. She seems to just want to sketch the whole flight, so no complaints! Cons: Why does she keep staring directly at a space across the plane and sketching the creepiest symbol-headed creatures you've ever seen with her eyes vaguely glazed over like she doesn't even know she's doing it holy shit is this a Twilight Zone situation where there are invisible gremlin monsters on this plane that only she can see and is it your imagination or do you hear humming from somewhere

3. Adolin

Cons: Listen, this is a budget airline, and this guy seems to think it's a fancy spa?? He's got the slippers, the posh eye mask, the luxurious travel pillow, some really nice face creams, and he seems to be video chatting with a girl even though the internet on the plane doesn't even work. Frankly, you're jealous and grouchy about it. Pros: Okay, he actually seems really sweet and he gave you some of his way-too-nice-for-an-airplane snacks. You take it all back; this guy is awesome.

4. Szeth

Pros: He is so still. So quiet. Almost folded in on himself. Barely...breathing? Honestly, you keep forgetting the middle seat is occupied, and how rare is that! Cons: You just...you think you'd feel better if he just blinked. Just once. Please.

5. Lift

Cons: You had to sigh just a little when a little kid plopped down next to you. Also, she goes to the bathroom every five minutes, and comes back with food every time. You think she might be robbing people. Pros: She complimented your butt quite sincerely. You've always been kinda self-conscious about your butt! But apparently yours is the "second best she's ever seen." Feels nice.

6. Jasnah

Pros: Like, is it possible for someone to just be really good at flying? She came in, expertly stowed her luggage, sat down elegantly, did her seatbelt, used a wipe to clean up the tray table and surrounding area, and immediately starting reading some thick tome. Do you have a crush on her? You might have a crush on her. Cons: She glanced at the book you're reading, and you know she judged you for it.

7. Wit

Cons: Does this guy EVER stop talking? Pros: Okay, actually, you found him kind of annoying at first, but that story he told you about the temple and the duck might have healed years of trauma? Did you just realize that you don't have to forgive your mom and that's okay?

8. Renarin

Pros: He sat down and you were like, "Okay. Cute nerd. I dig it." Cons: You just wish he wouldn't scrawl foreboding-seeming numerals on the back of the airline chair in front of him. Is it counting down to...just before the plane lands? What does it mean???

9. Amarem

Cons: He came in and was IMMEDIATELY like, "I am taller than you and so I should have your seat." And then he just...waited? Like he thought you'd just comply??? Pros: He seems intent on pretending that never happened. Fine by you. That guy seems like an asshole.

10. Zahel

Pros: He falls asleep, like, immediately and doesn't stir for the entire flight. Cons: He's just kinda stinky.

11. Dalinar

Cons: He sits down and, unprompted, says something like, "In my youth I would always battle to occupy every armrest but now, after reading The Way of Planes, I have realized that it is the journey, not the armrests, that matter, so you can have them" and then you're like, "Dude, the person in the middle seat gets the armrests that's just common courtesy" and then he looks at you and you look at him and it's vaguely awkward the whole flight and nobody uses the armrests. Pros: Actually, after a while you do take the armrest and the tension goes down a lot.

12. Taravangian

Pros: He just kinda seems like a nice old man, you know? Kinda confused about stuff, but harmless enough. Cons: He falls asleep partway through and droops his head onto your shoulder and drools a bit and you know you sound ridiculous but it feels somehow calculated. Intentional. Evil.

13. Sebarial

Cons: The very second beverage service starts he's all, "Bring me a BOTTLE of wine" and you're like, "Oh no. It's one of those dudes who gets way too drunk on planes!" Pros: You know? This guy actually seems pretty jolly and chill. You catch yourself thinking, "I wish I could pretend he was my uncle." You're not sure where that came from.

14. Rock

Pros: He scoffs at the provided airline snacks and gets out this thermos and gives you the best damn soup you've ever had in your life. Cons: He's just a large, warm man. Very large. Very warm. Not his fault, of course, but now YOU are very warm.

15. Elhokar

Cons: Every time there is plane turbulence, he mutters something about how it's the assassins coming to finish the job. Poor dude must be really scared of flying. Pros: You feel a warm, parental feeling growing in you as you look at this sad, scared man. Maybe your mom was right. Maybe you WOULD be good with kids.

16. Eshonai

Pros: This lady is, just, SO excited to be traveling that it can't help but make YOU excited to travel. Like, you always thought plane travel sucked, especially budget airline travel, be she is so delighted by everything that you find yourself thinking, "You know, it IS pretty amazing that we're soaring through the sky right now traveling to a new land." Cons: Cons? No cons. You wish you could ALWAYS see flying through this woman's eyes.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗢, 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗗 sebastian vetteln x fem! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . In which a bus stop acts as a way-point for two idiots who are madly in love.

( master list | more of sebastian vettel ) ( requests )

put my blood and sweat into this, took me so long to write, enjoy

tagging my #1 sebastian fan @forza55

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2006

rain was always so calming. A constant in your life. The raindrops would follow one another and make a pitter patter noise as they landed on the earth, weather on the ground, leaves, or in water again.

You could hear it loud and clear despite your headphones and icecap covering your ears. You weren't listening to music, but rather had the music instrument to divert anyone from talking to you. The bus stop was not too crowded, and the same people every Wednesday huddled under the stop's shelter like fish in a bucket.

Your face, of course, was buried in your book. What else would you be doing? Flipping the page as you glanced at your watch. 2 more minutes, you sighed.

"Excuse me." You snapped your head up, looking at the drenched blond that stepped under the ran protective roof. "Did bus, 38 leave yet?" He was panting, one hand on his knee as he looked up at you. You?

You were taken aback by his eyes, looking around to see if he he was taking to anyone else, but no, his blue eyes were on you. "I um -" You took a headphone off to be polite. "No, it should be, oh yeah, turn around." Just in time, you bit the inside of your lip as the blond gave you a thankful smile.

The people from the bus top filed in, taking a seat and resuming their activities. You decided to stand. Someone else could need your seat more than you do. And apparently, someone also thought the same thing, but he wasn't used to the bus's immediate halts.

Standing a few feet behind you was a bad idea because with the wet floor and sudden red traffic light, you found yourself catching Sebastian Vettel from slipping down on the floor and taking him with you.

Those blue eyes were too big for his head, scratch that. They were perfect. The amount of time the two of you spent with your arm hooked around his waist and him holding onto the handle above to catch his balance, was enough for you sketch the beauty he was in your head.

"Sorry." "It's okay." You dismissed, with a polite smile, helping him stand up straight. "Maybe you should sit down." "Eh, someone else might need it more than me." He said hesitantly, shrugging. The smile on your face widened, and features softened. His did too, seeing the elegant moon in your eyes shine on him with what he could describe as a gentle goddess giving a flower to a loyal worshipper.

"I'm Sebastian." "Y/N."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2007

No one ever sits on the chair beside you. When the seats were vacant and you sat down, it'd be just you. But today, a familiar face returned. After only appearing for two weeks, you finally get to see the blue eyes and fluff after a year.

"Whatcha reading?" He asks, looking down at your book. A smile shined on your face as you closed the pages to show him the title. "Just light reading." You hummed quietly, glancing up as the bus arrived.

You stood together on the bus, catching up on recent events. Which included him getting a "promotion" at his job. You kind of got into that topic more, you learned that his job took him to travel the world, and that included being here in Canada for a week every year, Thursday to Sunday.

Only, today was Monday. And last year when he visited he stayed for three Thursdays: three weeks, triple the time he should. You didn't ask about that, maybe it was just personal, or he had family here. You didn't ask what his job was either since he didn't disclose it on his own. You sure it was just a big fancy company that was related to computers and cyber tech since they were big things at this time.

When you got off with Seb at your stop, the both of you decided to stop at a café before plopping down on the couch in a corner in the grand library. Your hands were too busy holding the warm paper cup you didn't realize that Sebastian was leading the way. His hand on the small off your back, pulling you from your shirt to stop you at a cross walk ( red goers dead goers ) or walking on the outside of the street so it was safter for you to sip on your hot chocolate in peace.

The noon was spent peacefully, sitting beside each other, noses in books. Sebastian had such a calming presence, you even laid your head on his shoulder and watched him go through books about motors and cars ( which you found terribly cute ).

The week continued like usual, with seb having to leave early from Thursday to Saturday. On Monday he stayed long enough to take you out to lunch. The two of you sat at a nice dinner overlooking St. Lawrence river, and later you had a nice walk along the water body, linking arms together.

You spent the rest of the day with him, all the way back to the bus stop long after the sun had set. "Are you staying far from here?" You asked, brushing some hair from his eyes gently. He shrugged looking out at the illuminated streets. "I'm German, a walk is a walk." You couldn't help but chuckle as he pointed at his inflated chest proudly.

"I'll . . . see you tomorrow morning?" He asked hesitantly as he started walking away backwards slowly, looking at you. You nodded, a wide sile on your face as you walked in the opposite direction, backwards as well. "Get hoe safe." "You too."

But for whatever reason. He wasn't there in the morning. He usually makes it just two minutes before the bus. But today, you had to ride all alone. You had to sit all alone in the library too, and buy hot chocolate on your own too. Wednesday was like that as well, and Thursday as follows. And on Sunday, as you sat at the cafe, blowing hot air in your palms to warm yourself up when your ear caught a familiar name on the television.

"And eighth on his debut, the nineteen year old Sebastian Vettel standing in for the injured Robert Kubica scores one point for BMW."

Your Sebastian Vettel just scared a point in the pinnacle of motorsport?

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2008

Your smile is wide as you watch the blond arrive. You scootch over in your seat since the other one was taken and immediately Seb takes a seat beside you. "Mr. Vettel, would you be so kind to sign my shirt?" You joke, and when he looks as the top you're wearing he almost burst into laughter, putting his face in his hands.

"There's this store that sells merch, I thought it looked good." You shrug, nudging him. "Oh my god." He wipes his eyes looking at it. "Who's that?" He points to the shirt you were wearing, new Torro rosso merch with the new driver. "You don't know Sebastian Vettel?" You gasp, putting your hand on your chest in fake and dramatic offence. "He's the next World Champion." "Really?" "Oh yea, for sure. Maybe not this year or the next. But he'll do great one day."

"I was hoping to know, do you think Sebastian would be able to invite this friend of his to the race on Sunday." "I don't know, I'll have to check. I'm sure he'll be intent on bringing her to all of the races if she says yes." "She says yes."

university can wait.

It can wait till after Seb's first home grand prix, hugging him tightly after the race. Till after you go out with him that after party to dance all night. It can wait till the two of you cakesmash each other the next morning then laugh your asses off as you struggle to clean up.

university can defiantly wait till after a trip to Italy. Sitting at a very expensive restaurant and eating pasta despite dietary restrictions. It can wait sightseeing and museums. And most defiantly wait till after Sebastian's first win. After he kisses you post celebration and post podium, sharing the bottle of champagne

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2009

"That was beautiful, amour." [love] you smiled as Sebastian finally reached you. This year round, both of you were wearing red bull branded clothes, while seb wore the race suit, you wore the kit.

"I'm pretty sure you should look in a mirror because you're much more beautiful." The German joked, sharing a quick kiss with you. Christian could see the look of pride and admiration on your face as Sebastian hopped on the top pedestal for the Chinese grand prix. And of curse, as anyone in your places would, you blew kisses to each other.

"Its a pretty trophy." You hummed once you got a hold of it after the podium ceremony. The garage was still hype from the win, and you couldn't deny that your heart was hammering in your chest still. "It is." Adrian newey, your boss nodded looking between you and sebastian who was chasing his mechanics with the bottle of champagne.

"This is going to be a nice year. A very nice year." You hummed to yourself, feeling yourself smile watching your lover laugh. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised. And before you knew it, he was chasing you up and down the pitlane. Safe to say the skirt you were wearing was not helping you and you were eventually sticky and sweet.

"Let me taste." Seb held your waste, leaning in for a kiss. You managed to pull away, blushing and pushing on his chest playfully. "The whole world will see us." You scolded, folding your arms shyly. You were, after all, in the pitlane, any fan or journalist or camera could see and forever etch the moment into the internet.

"Let them see, let the world know that you're mine and I'm yours."

"You cheeky bastard."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2010

"Shhhh." "Let me seeee!" "Shhhh!" You shushed him even harder, pushing him away from his face. "I'm working." You scolded, slightly smacking his chest.

Pre season was almost here, and you were finishing up the design to the RB6. Moving from Montreal to London for the job was a big change. Although you weren't able to graduate university with your planned engineering degree, you were talented and gifted enough to score a designer position with Red bull racing.

Adrian Newey supervised over you and saw you as a skilled individual. You were able to preform well, abiding within the rules of F1 to create extraordinary work. Well, you work fine when Sebastian is not at your neck trying to look at the blueprints for the RB6.

"Oh come on, Let me see what you're going to be putting me in. I'm going to drive it anyways." You shook you head to yourself. As soon as you stopped holding Seb away from his chest, he had immediately put his nose in all your work and notes asking questions and making pointers even though the man never learned anything in university about any of this.

"Make it super fast." He tells you. You couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. "I don't make the car fast. The driver does." You joke getting up. "besides, I can already tell, we've bagged this season." You breath out happily kissing his cheek as you pass him to go to the kitchen.

"I like the way you think." He smirked following you, leaning his forearms on the kitchen counter, watching you as you skimmed through the fridge for something. "You hungry? We can go out." He offered, pushing himself up and coming up from behind you, hugging your waist and searching with his eyes through the content of the fridge same way you did.

"I don't know . . . I'm craving gâteau, tiramisu maybe? I don't know. Sugar, something sweet." [cake] You sighed in thought. "Do you wat something sweet?" you looked back at him only to see his cute smile and his blue gorgeous eyes on you.

"I have my infinite share of sweetness." You raised a brow confused at his words, only to be answered by his lips pressing on yours. "Why would I want anything cake or gâteau," he mocked, "when I have you?" "verry funny, seb." you chuckled, playfully rolling your eyes only to be met with another kiss.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were stressed, very stressed. after the car had preformed well and met your expectations during testing, it did not deliver well enough not in the first race with Alonso had won nor the second race in which Sebastian had to retire. mark in the other seat wasn't doing any better with 8th and 9th, which were yes in the points, but not in the championship.

Sebastian had taken pole during both weekends, the first race in Bahrain where his car lost power in the last few laps and the second race in Australia where the brakes failed due to mechanical issues. And it all felt like it was your fault. Like you didn't put enough effort in the car at the beginning in the season, like you costed a beloved new family and team money and a championship.

The stress and nerves wouldn't leave you, sitting on the pit wall as you watched the lights turn red one by one. Webber is on pole this time with seb in the second row with p3. chewing your pencil, you counted down till the lights went out, eyes on the screens in front of you displaying important specs that would help you with possible outcomes and opportunities for strategies.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest as the drivers pressed on the throttle for the Malaysian grand prix. with your note book in hand and pen between your fingers, you began scribbling and planning and thinking.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your heart hammers in your chest as Sebastian crosses the finish line first. You hardly register the cheers around you as you push through the crowd, your feet carrying you to parc fermé on pure instinct. There he is—Sebastian, climbing out of his car, arms raised in triumph, the kind of smile that could light up the entire paddock plastered across his face.

“Seb!” you call out, your voice cracking with emotion. His head whips around, and the moment his eyes land on you, he opens his arms without hesitation.

You throw yourself into him, gripping him so tightly you're not sure where he ends and you begin. The smell of sweat and champagne clings to him, but you don’t care. All that matters is the way he holds you back, his joy infectious.

“You did it,” you whisper, your voice shaky. “You actually did it.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replies, his words soft but weighty, his voice muffled against your hair. And for a fleeting moment, it feels like the world belongs to the two of you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The words echo in your ears, muffled yet unmistakable: “Du bist Weltmeister!” It feels surreal, like you’ve stepped into a dream. The grand prix is over, and yet your heart races faster than it ever did during the race.

Sebastian’s disbelief mirrors your own as he clambers out of his car, shaking his head in wonder before he sees you. You barely have time to brace yourself before he’s pulling you into another bone-crushing hug, his breath coming out in a stuttering laugh against your shoulder.

“We did it!” he exclaims, his voice thick with emotion.

“No,” you correct him, though your voice cracks from the tears threatening to spill. “You did it, Seb. You’re the world champion.”

Later, on the podium, Sebastian lifts the constructor’s trophy beside you, his smile splitting his face as the crowd roars. When the champagne sprays, you barely have time to duck before he turns the bottle on you, his laughter blending with yours in the chaos. It’s a moment frozen in time, one you’ll replay over and over in your mind.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2011

Moving into the Milton Keynes apartment had been his idea. Despite his Monaco residence, Sebastian had insisted that being close to you—and the team—mattered more. The apartment wasn’t much, but it became home.

You’d cook dinner together, sometimes burning the pasta because you were too busy teasing each other. When you weren’t at the factory or the track, you were exploring cities together, summer and winter breaks filled with spontaneous vacations. Hiking in the Alps, sipping espresso on cobbled streets in Rome, or lying on the beaches of Ibiza—it was always the two of you against the world.

It was simple. It was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2014

The tension had been building for weeks. Every race felt like a battlefield, but not just for Sebastian on the track—it had seeped into the small apartment you shared, turning it into a minefield neither of you seemed able to navigate. The car wasn’t competitive, the championship slipping further out of reach with every race weekend. It gnawed at him, at both of you, but Sebastian wasn’t used to losing.

That night, it all came to a head.

“I’m giving everything I have!” he snapped, pacing across the narrow living room, his hands tugging at his hair. His voice was sharp, louder than you’d ever heard it before, echoing against the walls. “Do you think I want to be stuck fighting for fifth?”

You flinched, his frustration rolling off him in waves, but you stood your ground. Crossing your arms, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “I never said that, Seb. But you’re shutting me out! How am I supposed to help you if you won’t even let me in?”

He stopped mid-stride, turning to face you with a look that made your stomach twist. His lips parted, and for a moment, you thought he might say something to ease the blow, to let you in the way you were begging him to. But then, the words came out like a slap:

“Maybe you can’t help!”

The air in the room went heavy, suffocating. Your breath hitched as the weight of his words settled in your chest, sharp and cutting. You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to soften the edges of what he’d just said. But he didn’t. He just stood there, his chest rising and falling, his eyes darting away from yours.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice quiet, strained. It was all you could manage.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, dragging his hand down his face, but he didn’t say anything. No apology, no explanation. And somehow, that was worse.

The rest of the night passed in silence. He retreated to the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him, while you sat alone in the dimly lit living room, staring blankly at the coffee table. The tension was still there, like an invisible wall between you, and you knew—knew—that this wasn’t just about the car. It was about everything.

By mid-season, you couldn’t take it anymore. The team’s focus was shifting, Sebastian’s frustration was mounting, and your own heartbreak was becoming unbearable. You handed in your resignation at Red Bull with trembling hands, the words barely audible as you told Christian you were leaving.

Porsche’s hypercar program was a lifeline. It wasn’t just about stepping away from the team—it was about stepping away from Sebastian, from the version of him you didn’t recognize anymore. You threw yourself into your work, finishing your master’s degree with a kind of single-minded determination that bordered on obsession. A PhD followed, and so did your work alongside Mark Webber.

But even as the years passed, the sting of that night, of those words—Maybe you can’t help!—never truly faded. They echoed in your mind at the most unexpected times, in the quiet moments when you let your guard down. You told yourself you’d moved on, but deep down, you knew part of you was still in that small apartment in Milton Keynes, staring at the man you once thought you’d never lose.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2024

The Porsche garage hummed with activity—mechanics adjusting tools, engineers poring over screens, the air filled with the familiar scents of fuel and rubber. It was a controlled chaos you thrived in, but when Sebastian walked in, the rhythm faltered, like someone had pressed pause on the world.

You looked up, drawn by an instinct you couldn’t explain. He stood just inside the doorway, his gaze scanning the room until it landed on you.

Time seemed to collapse, the years between you vanishing in an instant. He looked... different. His features had sharpened with age, a faint streak of silver glinting in his hair, but his eyes—those striking, unyielding eyes—remained the same.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The noise of the garage dulled to a murmur, replaced by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

Finally, you smiled, forcing yourself to break the spell. “Good seeing you again, Seb.”

Your voice was steady, but your extended hand trembled slightly. He stepped forward, taking it in his. His grip was firm, grounding, and the touch lingered longer than it should have.

“Yn,” he said, your name a quiet acknowledgment, a memory resurrected.

The handshake ended, and with it, the fragile bubble of familiarity. You withdrew, your professionalism snapping into place like armor, but the warmth of his palm against yours stayed, a phantom sensation.

Later, you stood at the pit wall, your headset snug over your ears as you stared at the monitors in front of you. Rows of data scrolled across the screens—lap times, tire degradation, telemetry—all of it meant to hold your focus. But no amount of numbers could drown out the echo of Sebastian’s voice when he’d said your name.

Out on the track, the Porsche glided through the apex of a turn, sleek and powerful under Sebastian’s control. His voice crackled through your headset, cutting through your scattered thoughts. “Car feels good.”

It was measured, professional, but you caught it—that faint hesitation, the undertone of something unresolved.

“Copy that,” you replied, gripping the edge of the console until your knuckles whitened. Your voice was clipped, businesslike, but it felt like a mask too thin to hold. “Let’s push for one more flying lap.”

Sebastian’s car roared down the straight, his hands tightening around the wheel. He leaned into the motion of the car, each turn precise, his instincts still razor-sharp. But beneath the surface, his mind was a storm. Every shift of the gears felt weighted, every flick of the wheel a reminder of how much had changed—and how much had stayed the same.

Inside the garage, the silence between radio updates was deafening. You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to focus on the present. But every beep of the telemetry felt like a heartbeat, syncing with the one pounding in your chest.

When Sebastian finally returned to the pit lane, you stepped back, giving him space as he climbed out of the car. For a moment, his eyes found yours again, a flash of something unspoken passing between you.

The handshake earlier had been a bridge—a brief moment of connection—but now, standing apart, the gap between you felt impossibly vast. Neither of you moved to close it.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The bus stop was dimly lit, the flickering streetlamp above casting fleeting shadows on the damp pavement. A cold breeze tugged at your coat, sneaking past the fabric to nip at your skin. You tucked your hands deeper into your pockets, rocking on your heels to stay warm.

The sound of an engine broke through the quiet, low and familiar. Headlights curved around the corner, slowing as they approached. You turned, squinting into the glow, and recognition struck before the car even stopped.

Sebastian’s car.

He rolled down the window, leaning over with an easy grace that looked so natural, like no time had passed. His gaze found yours, soft and warm, but carrying something you couldn’t quite place.

“Need a lift?” he asked, voice steady but tinged with something almost hesitant.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you stepped closer, the teasing retort slipping out effortlessly. “Are you my 39 North today?”

His chuckle was low, the kind that felt like the rumble of a car engine in your chest. “Only because you’re my favorite passenger.”

Without hesitation, you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, the faint scent of leather and something distinctly Sebastian enveloping you. As you buckled up, you glanced at him, taking in the way his fingers rested on the steering wheel, tapping lightly in an unconscious rhythm.

“Still driving like you’re on the autobahn?” you teased, adjusting the seatbelt.

He cast a sidelong glance at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “I could say the same about you. You were always terrible at staying in the slow lane.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the quiet tension that had settled between you both. As the car pulled away, the city lights painted streaks across the windshield, and for the first time in years, the silence felt comfortable. 

Like maybe, just maybe.

[waerwena]

so, i miss vander so much i decided to write something to let it out/// i usually dont write so sorry if there're any mistakes///

this is just a little sketch about if reader (you) meet vander once again in an alternative universe///

vanderxfem!reader song by Mako & Grey – What Have They Done to Us (I love it I love it I love it, it soo perfect for this, it so matches the characters, I cry every time I hear it)

"as you wake up in a cold sweat"

It was dark all around, too dark. The body wouldn’t obey, and the mind kept shutting down; it felt as if consciousness was floating somewhere in weightlessness, far, far away from you. Then there was a voice calling you by name. “Professor?” A sudden flash of bright colors rushed before your eyes, and the darkness around you began to gradually dissipate. You were lying on the ground, and the professor, with a worried expression, leaned over you; for a moment, it seemed like he was smiling. Your mind was still resisting, and the bright light began to make you feel nauseous.

My dear, you scared me a bit when you passed out; I was already thinking about running for help. And I did warn you that lifting such heavy things all at once is not advisable and...

You tried to sit up. "Professor... what... where are we?" The professor, too engrossed in his chatter, turned and looked at you intently. "Where are we...?" he echoed, "what... oh!" Suddenly, realization dawned on him. "My dear, you’re back! After we were consumed by Hexgate I was just waiting for you both to appear here." You grabbed your forehead in a sudden bout of pain. The professor's words once again dissolved in a whirlwind of colorful spots and dots. "Ekko still hasn’t woken up yet," you heard him say, "but I think he will be soon..."

You couldn't remember anything after you descended to the gates, only a bright flash and then darkness.

"You know," the professor continued, "I think we should go back. He will be worried."

"He? Ekko?" You rubbed your forehead with your palm; the pain began to subside, and your senses started to return to you.

"little girl what goes on in your head"

In the distance, you could hear muffled children's laughter, the clinking of bottles, and the hissing of air. You looked around; you were in an alley of The Undercity, but it felt like something had changed. Nearby, there were boxes scattered with shards of glass. Apparently, when you felt unwell, you had dropped them from your hands. The professor approached and placed a hand on your shoulder, as if he were gathering his thoughts to say something. His gaze reminded you of that day when you were told that Vander had died, and the professor had carefully chosen his words to comfort you. As if words could heal a broken heart.

"all this hatred in your heart, yet i mourn the most for all the things that i never said"

“We really need to go back,” he finally said after a long silence that was unusual for him. 

“Back where?” You were still struggling to perceive your surroundings, but it was undoubtedly one of the alleys in the Undercity. The professor approached a side door of the building you were near and, after a brief hesitation, opened it and gestured inside: “Back to the bar.” 

"Bar???” There was only one bar in the Zaun – “The Last Drop,” but after Vander’s death, it had become more like a tomb, filled not with ghosts but with memories. After a bit of effort, you got to your feet and leaned against the doorframe. You could hear laughter and music coming from inside. You were surprised; it seemed crowded in there, which felt so strange to you. You looked at the professor, but he just smirked conspiratorially and soon disappeared down the corridor. You sighed and followed him, trying not to trip in the dim light among the numerous boxes. Reaching the door to the main hall, you reached for the handle, but suddenly the door swung open, nearly hitting you in the face. 

“Oh, sorry, I thought no one was here. But, by the way, since I found you, I want to ask you something.” In the doorway stood a girl with blue hair; she reminded you of Vi when you last saw her. “Powder. Jinx?” 

“What?” The words slipped from your lips as you stared at each other. The blue-haired girl beamed at you with a wide smile: “You have to help me sew a dress to wear for the contest! Just imagine, when we take first place, I have to look awesome!” 

You were still processing her words as if they were in another language: “A-a dress…?” “Why is she here? Didn’t Silco take her? Isn’t she a criminal now?” Powder leaned against the door and crossed her arms over her chest: “What’s wrong with you? Did you hit your head? Remember, Vander brought a bunch of fabric from somewhere and told us to ‘have fun’ and…” 

You weren’t listening to her anymore; at the sound of his name, everything around you began to plunge back into darkness, your heart seemed to leap to your throat, cutting off your breath. “Vander. Did she say Vander?”

"dont make me go through this again"

You looked over Powder's shoulder. The spacious hall was filled with people; they were laughing, drinking, and some were swaying to the music. Streams of light poured through the glass ceiling, creating whimsical patterns of light among the crowd. Your heart was pounding so fast that it felt like it would break through your ribcage and then shatter into tiny pieces. “Sorry,” you whispered to Powder, gently pushing her aside. Your gaze darted around the hall, as if searching for something, and then you turned it toward the bar. There were quite a few people around it too, and at one point, the thought that he might be there seemed absurd. “He’s dead.” At those words, old pain surged like a wave, piercing through you, and your insides clenched from an invisible blow. “He’s gone.”

You pushed your way to the bar, nearly elbowing patrons in the stomachs. The last person you bumped into on your way to your goal was Benzo, who was peacefully sipping a drink. 

“Hey, what’s the rush?” he grunted, and you froze in confusion. “Benzo killed the monster Silco.” 

“I…” you managed to squeeze out, “sorry, I… I…” You no longer looked at him; your gaze was fixed on the man standing with his back to everyone, polishing a glass. “No, no, no… what?” Your thoughts tangled, the ground seemed to disappear beneath your feet. “This is some kind of joke. It can’t be him.”

"you’re not real and i can’t pretend"

“Hey, Vander, something’s going on with your girl” Benzo coughed and buried his face in his glass, taking a noisy gulp.  The man behind the bar turned around, giving you a warm smile.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? " His voice was deep, warm, and soothing, and you suddenly realized how much you had missed him. The pain again pierced sharply somewhere in your chest, and you felt tears streaming down your cheeks. The man's expression immediately turned worried. "Dear, what happened? " Still gasping from tears, you went around the bar and clung to the stunned man with both hands. Burying your face in his broad chest, you whispered: "Vander!" He hugged you in return; his large hands enveloped you completely. "Whoa, what’s going on? You heard his laughter rumble inside him, "We saw each other just five minutes ago, not that I’m complaining…" You lifted your head and looked into his eyes, still not believing that it was really him. He cupped your chin with his fingers, pulling you closer to his face and leaving a gentle kiss on your lips. "I can close up early today if you want." He ran his thumb across your cheek, his eyes watching you closely. You shook your head, still pressing against him with your whole body. "It's okay, I wouldn't mind watching you work. Just don't go." Vander looked at you confused. "I wasn't planning to." You let out a quiet sob. "I know, but..." You fell silent as the man brushed a strand of hair from your forehead. "You know I would never leave you. You, Powder, and the boys. Never." You smiled sadly; you didn't want to let him go right now. You don’t know where the Hexgate sent you but you were happy to see him again. Alive.

"I miss you so much, Vander, if only you knew."

[aventurineswife]

I physically need to read a fic with a sober reader who witnesses how goofy Kaveh and Veritas can get when they're drunk and is just shocked that they're capable of being THIS playful and unhinged. Bonus if the reader records them and teases them about it later on.

Under the Influence

Summary: When Kaveh and Ratio drink a bit too much, their usually serious and refined personas melt away, revealing a goofy, playful side that shocks their sober partner. As Kaveh balances wine glasses on his head and Ratio narrates absurdly dramatic tales, you capture the hilarity on video and tease them about their drunken antics later. What begins as a drunken display of silliness turns into a heartwarming moment where the two intellectuals let go of their usual restraint and embrace their more carefree sides.

Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Fluff, Humor, Drunken Shenanigans, Teasing, Playful Dynamics, Sober Reader, Lighthearted Banter.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Light swearing, Mild inebriation and the silliness that follows.

[Part 2]

You had always known Kaveh as the passionate architect, the one who threw himself into his work without a second thought. His sharp eyes were usually filled with intensity, whether he was sketching out blueprints or discussing the intricacies of his designs with a fervor that could be described as borderline obsessive. On the other hand, Dr. Veritas Ratio, or as he liked to be called, Dr. Ratio, was known for his unmatched intellect, his sharp wit, and his imposing presence as a scholar of the highest order. He was always calm, calculated, and logical in everything he did.

But tonight, everything had changed.

The three of you—Kaveh, Ratio, and yourself—had been winding down after a particularly long day. A few drinks were shared, mostly to calm the nerves after a heated debate between Kaveh and Ratio about the nature of beauty versus logic in architecture. You had opted for a glass of water, wanting to stay sober for the evening.

The first drink had seemed harmless enough, then the second, and soon enough, the two of them were... well, a different version of themselves.

Kaveh, normally an epitome of elegance, was now sprawled across the couch, his arms flailing about as he attempted to convey the complexity of his latest architectural vision with a drunk logic all his own. Ratio, on the other hand, had started laughing—genuinely laughing—a sound that was so foreign coming from him, you almost couldn’t believe it.

You stood nearby, observing the scene with a combination of disbelief and amusement. Kaveh was currently trying to balance a glass of wine on his head, apparently convinced that this would somehow make him look more refined.

“Look, look!” Kaveh slurred, gesturing grandly with his arms. “An architect is a true artist, right? And art is about balance! And this, my dear Ratio, is balance!” He gave a triumphant grin, the glass teetering dangerously on his head as he struck a dramatic pose.

Ratio, who had been sitting in a more reserved manner just moments ago, now seemed to have completely let go of his usual composure. He was clutching his sides, laughing harder than you had ever seen him laugh in all the time you had known him.

“I never thought I'd see the day when Kaveh, the ‘Master of Aesthetics,’ would be reduced to a—what did you call it?—a ‘drunken genius’ in his own right!” Ratio managed to say between bursts of laughter, his voice unusually high-pitched in his state.

Kaveh, however, wasn’t finished yet. With an exaggerated gesture, he began to dramatically “sing” an operatic rendition of what was undoubtedly the most nonsensical and off-key song you had ever heard. You couldn’t help but snicker as he added hand movements for extra flair.

“You should definitely get a recording of this,” Ratio said, wiping away tears from the corner of his eyes. “This is legendary, and no one would believe it if you told them.”

Your eyebrows shot up in realization. A mischievous smile crept onto your face as you reached for your phone. You had to document this moment—it was too precious to be forgotten.

As you pressed record, the two men’s antics continued, utterly unhinged. Kaveh was now rolling on the floor, pretending to be a cat in an exaggerated display of theatrical nonsense, while Ratio began narrating an imaginary tale of "the drunken architect and the scholarly fool" in a deep, overly dramatic voice that sounded like he was auditioning for an epic movie role.

“Once upon a time, there was a brilliant architect,” Ratio began, sounding almost serious, “who sought to balance the world with a glass of wine on his head. But lo and behold! His genius was thwarted by a foolish scholar who...”

“Hey!” Kaveh interrupted, still lying on the floor but with a playful pout on his face, “I’m not a fool! I’m an artist, Ratio! A true visionary!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all. Your phone’s camera captured every moment—the dramatic poses, the ridiculous banter, and Kaveh’s insistence that he was both an architect and a revolutionary philosopher in the same breath. Ratio’s narrative voice only made it all the more surreal.

“And as the great architect’s impossible balance failed,” Ratio continued, “he lost his grace and fell into the arms of a drunken fool who had, ironically, become a greater scholar in his drunken stupor than he ever was sober.” He paused and gave you a wink as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Should I start charging for this performance?”

“Oh, stop it, you,” Kaveh protested, his voice slurred but still full of mock indignation. “You’re just jealous because my artistic flair is more... refined than your boring lectures.”

That was it. You burst out laughing, clutching your phone in one hand as you tried to contain yourself. The two men had completely abandoned any sense of dignity, and you were witnessing a side of them you’d never expected—Kaveh, who prided himself on being a refined, somewhat dramatic figure, and Ratio, usually so stoic and controlled, both completely unhinged in a drunken stupor.

You stopped recording for a moment, both of them still lost in their own silly world.

“You both are ridiculous,” you teased, still chuckling. “I can’t believe I’m seeing this side of you.”

Kaveh shot you a grin, his earlier dignity long gone. “Oh, you better believe it. You’ve unlocked the true genius of Kaveh and Ratio!”

“Geniuses,” Ratio echoed with a wry smile, his head still spinning slightly from the wine. “I have never met two people more qualified to—”

“—make fools of ourselves?” Kaveh interrupted, finishing Ratio’s sentence with a dramatic flair.

“Exactly!” Ratio said, as if this was the revelation of the century. He staggered slightly and straightened himself up, clearly attempting to reclaim some of his usual poise. “You have to admit, we are rather amusing when not bound by the chains of intellectual superiority.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter. You pointed your phone back at them, capturing the absurdity of the moment. “This is gold. I’m going to make sure everyone hears about ‘Drunken Genius Kaveh’ and ‘Scholar Ratio’ forever.”

At that, Kaveh made a playful, exaggerated bow from the floor. “As long as I’m remembered for my art, I have no complaints!”

Ratio, still swaying slightly, joined in, offering an over-the-top, formal bow that had you in stitches. “Indeed. May our genius be immortalized, even if it’s through the lens of... let’s say, questionable decisions.”

You laughed again, feeling a warmth in your chest at the sight of these two intellectuals, usually so serious, embracing the chaos of the moment. It was clear that beneath all the genius and the hard exterior, they had their own quirks, their own human sides—unfiltered, unrefined, and entirely lovable.

Before you could stop yourself, you playfully raised your phone and said, “So, are we getting this on record? Or should I keep the next few minutes a secret?”

“Oh, no,” Kaveh interjected, suddenly sitting up, “absolutely not. This is an exclusive performance!”

Ratio smirked. “Right. And we’re expecting royalties for that footage.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that.”

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans 

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy  

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down  I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches. 

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them.  I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves. 

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends. 

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown. 

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn. 

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.” 

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other. 

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?” 

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me. 

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought. 

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.” 

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking. 

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair 

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food 

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me 

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline. 

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.” 

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?” 

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.” 

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern 

“No,they don’t.” 

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?” 

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.” 

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger. 

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat.  “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.” 

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?”  I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop. 

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.” 

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.” 

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.” 

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond. 

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than  the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.” 

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them. 

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me 

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face. 

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk. 

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”  

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me. 

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.” 

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.  

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs. 

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the  collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act. 

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants. 

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness. 

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor 

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.” 

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down. 

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face.  My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates. 

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor 

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.” 

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months. 

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern 

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

[satellite-evans]

The Artist

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: sometimes, an artist is far more interesting than the art itself.

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: fluff, angst? Anthony not being able to mind his own business, briefly mention of parents passing away

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Lady Danbury’s soirées were the heart of the social season—part chessboard, part battlefield, where every glance and whisper held strategic importance. Benedict Bridgerton, however, approached such gatherings as an observer rather than a player. He found the art on the walls more captivating than the posturing of the ton.

Wandering through Lady Danbury’s grand halls, Benedict stopped before a painting of a turbulent sea, his thoughts briefly drifting to his own half-finished sketches. A voice interrupted him, sharp and vibrant.

“It’s ambitious, but overworked. The sea churns, but the emotion feels... manufactured.”

He turned to see her: a young woman standing a few steps away, her posture poised yet unguarded. She wore her beauty with an effortless confidence, her eyes a vivid storm of intellect and intrigue. She wasn’t like the other women at the ball, fluttering fans and batting lashes. She observed the world with precision, as though she’d already decided it was hers to command.

“An intriguing critique,” Benedict replied, his interest piqued. “Though perhaps the chaos was intentional. Sometimes life demands a lack of restraint.”

Her gaze flicked to him, assessing. “Chaos is compelling, but it must be tempered with truth. This, Mr. Bridgerton, is a performance.”

“You know my name,” he noted, smiling. “You have the advantage over me, Miss...?”

“Y/N,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “And I find that knowing one’s audience is the first rule of any conversation.”

He inclined his head. “A lesson I’ll remember. Tell me, Miss Y/N, are you always this direct?”

Her lips curved into a subtle smile, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned back to the painting. “Do you sketch? You look at this piece as though you’re searching for something beyond the surface.”

Benedict blinked, surprised by her insight. “I do, though I’ve yet to create anything worth showing. You?”

“I paint,” she admitted, her voice softening. “But my work isn’t for the ton’s galleries. Some things are too personal to display.”

“Now you’ve made me curious,” he said, stepping closer. “What would it take to see one of your pieces?”

She tilted her head, her gaze teasing. “Persistence. But I should warn you—I am not easily impressed.”

Benedict smiled, already intrigued by the challenge. “Good. I prefer earning my victories.”

Before she could respond, Lady Danbury’s voice carried through the hall. “Ah, Benedict, I see you’ve met Miss Y/N. And what do you think of her opinions? Sharp as a rapier, aren’t they?”

Benedict glanced at Y/N, his expression warm. “Quite sharp, indeed. But rapier wit is vastly preferable to dull pleasantries.”

Lady Danbury chuckled. “I agree. Well, don’t let me interrupt. Though, Y/N, your brother Charles is looking for you. Something about the carriage.”

At the mention of her brother, Y/N’s composure shifted slightly. “Thank you, Lady Danbury. I’ll find him shortly.”

As Lady Danbury swept away, Benedict offered Y/N a small bow. “Will you grant me the honor of a dance before you leave?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, her eyes glinting with amusement. “If you’re persistent enough.”

Before Benedict could craft a suitably clever reply, a deep voice broke through the moment. “Y/N, it’s getting late.”

Both turned to see a tall man striding toward them, his posture commanding yet measured. He was dressed impeccably, the weight of responsibility apparent in his expression. His resemblance to Y/N—sharp features and the same striking eyes—was unmistakable.

Charles stopped beside them and inclined his head politely toward Benedict before addressing his sister. “The hour grows late, and I believe Lady Danbury is beginning to hint that the soirée is winding down.”

Y/N offered her brother a cool yet affectionate look. “You always did have an impeccable sense of timing, Charles.”

Benedict, recovering quickly, stepped forward with a polite bow. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Benedict Bridgerton.”

Charles’s gaze sharpened slightly at the name before he returned the bow with measured precision. “Charles Y/L/N, Earl of Whitestone.”

Benedict’s eyebrows lifted in recognition, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Whitestone? I believe my brother, Anthony, has spoken of you. He mentioned you were recently elevated to the title.”

Charles gave a brief nod, his tone guarded but civil. “Anthony and I have known each other for some years. He’s a good man, and an excellent Viscount.”

“As I’m certain you’re an excellent Earl,” Benedict replied smoothly, sensing the protective edge to Charles’s demeanor.

The corner of Charles’s mouth twitched upward, though he remained composed. “I do what I can, though the title comes with its share of burdens. And you, Mr. Bridgerton, seem to have a knack for engaging my sister in conversation.”

Benedict chuckled lightly, inclining his head toward Y/N. “Your sister is an extraordinary conversationalist, my lord. I find myself quite fortunate to have made her acquaintance tonight.”

Charles’s gaze flicked to Y/N, who appeared unruffled by the exchange but wore a faint smile of amusement. “Fortunate, indeed,” Charles said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe it’s time to depart. Y/N?”

Y/N turned back to Benedict, her expression unreadable but her tone cordial. “Thank you for the discussion, Mr. Bridgerton. Perhaps we’ll meet again, should the occasion allow.”

Benedict bowed, his tone warm. “I certainly hope so, Miss Y/N.”

As Charles and Y/N walked toward their waiting carriage, Benedict watched them leave, his thoughts lingering on the sharp wit and quiet allure of Y/N.

Charles, walking slightly ahead of his sister, cast a glance back toward Benedict, then murmured to her, “He seems taken with you.”

Y/N’s lips curved faintly as she replied, “Let him be. I’m hardly an easy conquest.”

Charles smirked faintly, his tone fond but serious. “Good. Just remember, Y/N, you’re worth far more than simple flattery and fleeting interest.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze forward but her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

The clatter of carriage wheels echoed faintly as Charles and Y/N made their way back to their townhouse. The dim glow of gas lamps illuminated the streets, casting fleeting shadows across Charles’s pensive expression.

“You like him,” Charles remarked, breaking the companionable silence. His voice was even, but his words were laced with a quiet observation.

Y/N glanced at her brother, her expression unreadable. “He’s intriguing. Sharp-witted. But liking someone, Charles, is a luxury I can ill afford.”

Charles leaned back in his seat, watching her carefully. “Luxury or not, you seemed more yourself tonight than I’ve seen in months. There’s no harm in entertaining the idea—provided you remain cautious.”

Y/N’s gaze softened at her brother’s concern. “I appreciate your vigilance, my dear Earl of Whitestone. But let’s not rush to paint him as either hero or villain. Men of his world are not often held to the same scrutiny as women of ours.”

“True,” Charles admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But Anthony Bridgerton isn’t one to speak highly of a man without reason. If his brother is half as principled, I’d consider him worth the risk.”

Y/N’s lips twitched at his words. “Risk, indeed. But enough about Mr. Bridgerton. We’ve our own affairs to manage, and I’m certain our tenants won’t care for my musings about art or charm.”

Charles nodded, though he noted the faint pink flush that crept up her neck as she turned toward the window.

As the Whitestone carriage disappeared into the darkness, Benedict stood at the edge of the Danbury estate, his gaze lingering on the path where Y/N had vanished. The warmth of the evening had cooled, but he hardly noticed the chill. His mind replayed their conversation—the sharp wit in her words, the spark in her eyes when she spoke of art, and the measured grace with which she had danced around his charm.

“Y/N,” he murmured softly, as if testing the sound of her name. It felt as striking as the woman herself, an enigma he couldn’t easily solve.

Lady Danbury’s sharp voice startled him from his reverie. “Well, Mr. Bridgerton, if you plan to stand out there all night, you might as well help me escort the remaining stragglers to their carriages.”

Benedict turned, an easy smile masking his contemplative mood. “I was merely enjoying the view, Lady Danbury. Your soiree is, as always, a triumph.”

Her keen eyes narrowed with amusement. “And yet your gaze was fixed on the road, not my ballroom. That young lady certainly left an impression.”

Benedict didn’t deny it. “She’s remarkable,” he admitted, more to himself than to Lady Danbury.

“Be careful with that one,” the older woman warned, though her tone was fond. “She has depth. And depth demands substance in return.”

Benedict inclined his head, her words sinking in. As much as he relished the challenge, he realized he wanted more than a fleeting encounter.

The ride home was a quiet one. Benedict sat in the carriage, the sounds of horses’ hooves a steady rhythm that gave his thoughts space to wander.

He’d encountered many women in his time—clever debutantes, bold widows, and those who wore charm like armor. But Y/N was different. There was a quiet power in her deflections, a vulnerability hidden behind her sharp observations.

His mind lingered on her smile, fleeting yet warm, and the way her brother, Charles, had watched over her like a hawk. Benedict respected that protectiveness—it spoke of loyalty, of family bonds he deeply valued.

When he finally reached the familiar halls of his family home, the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood and the soft rustle of wind through the trees outside. He retired to his room, but sleep eluded him.

Instead, he sketched—rough outlines of Y/N’s features, her poised stance, the energy in her eyes as she critiqued the painting at Lady Danbury’s. Each stroke of charcoal carried with it an urgency, an attempt to capture the essence of someone who refused to be defined.

By the time dawn’s light began to filter through his window, Benedict set the sketch aside, his resolve clear.

“I’ll see her again,” he murmured, more determined than he’d been in years.

The following morning, the Bridgerton family gathered around the long dining table, sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Despite the sumptuous spread of fruit, fresh-baked pastries, and piping hot tea, all eyes were on Benedict.

“Who was she?” Eloise asked bluntly, buttering her toast with unnecessary vigor. “Lady Whistledown was positively tantalized.”

Benedict sighed, taking a deliberate sip of tea. “Good morning to you too, Eloise.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Daphne chimed in with a knowing smile. “It’s not every day Lady Whistledown dedicates an entire paragraph to your exploits.”

Anthony leaned back in his chair, an eyebrow raised. “Y/N Y/L/N, wasn’t it? I believe her brother, Charles, is the new Earl of Whitestone. Solid reputation, though he keeps to himself since inheriting the title.”

Benedict nodded, setting down his cup. “The very same. I had the pleasure of speaking with her—she’s sharp, insightful, and refreshingly candid.”

“And beautiful?” Colin teased, his grin wide.

“Extremely,” Benedict replied without hesitation, earning a round of laughter.

Anthony’s amusement faded slightly as he regarded his brother with a calculating look. “Charles is an old acquaintance of mine. We crossed paths during the early years of our titles. A good man, but fiercely protective of his family. Tread carefully, Benedict.”

“Always,” Benedict said, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of determination.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the grass of Whitestone’s modest garden, a sketchpad balanced on her lap. The cool breeze carried with it the faint scent of lavender from the nearby hedgerows, mingling with the crisp aroma of her graphite pencils. The gardens were her sanctuary—a reprieve from society’s endless noise and expectations. Today, her focus was on a half-finished drawing of a willow tree bending gracefully over the garden pond. Yet, as much as she tried to focus, her thoughts drifted back to Benedict Bridgerton.

She had replayed their exchanges from Lady Danbury’s soiree countless times in her mind. His words had been genuine, his curiosity sincere. Yet it was his gaze that lingered in her memory—the way his eyes softened when he listened to her critiques of the art, as though he truly saw her and not just another face in the crowd. Y/N frowned slightly, annoyed at her own vulnerability. He’s intriguing, certainly, but so are countless men who wander into my path. Why should this one matter more?

Her pencil faltered as the sharp rap of a knock echoed from the front of the house. She stilled, curiosity piqued. Guests were rare at Whitestone, and Charles had already mentioned he expected no visitors today. She heard the muffled creak of the door opening and the low rumble of her brother’s voice, but the words were indistinct. Setting her sketchpad aside, Y/N rose and dusted her hands off on her skirts, wandering closer to the house with light steps.

Inside the parlor, Charles extended a firm handshake to Anthony Bridgerton. The Earl of Whitestone and the Viscount Bridgerton cut striking figures in the modest room, both exuding a commanding presence, though Anthony’s was tempered by a composed air of diplomacy.

“Viscount Bridgerton,” Charles greeted, stepping back to motion him inside. “This is an unexpected visit.”

“I thought it past time we caught up,” Anthony replied with a faint smile, his eyes sweeping the room briefly before settling back on Charles. “Though I must confess, my errand isn’t entirely social.”

Charles raised an eyebrow as he led Anthony toward the parlor’s armchairs. “I assume this has something to do with your family’s estates bordering mine?”

“In part.” Anthony seated himself with practiced ease, but there was a guardedness to his tone that Charles didn’t miss. “The other part involves my brother, Benedict.”

Charles stilled briefly, his expression giving nothing away. “Ah, your brother,” he said smoothly, taking his own seat. “I must admit, he did make an impression at Lady Danbury’s soiree.”

Anthony’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “So I’ve heard. I trust my brother behaved himself?”

Charles smirked faintly, folding his hands over his knee. “Mr. Bridgerton was... eager to engage my sister in conversation. Though I’m not sure she was as willing to reciprocate.”

Anthony chuckled, but his tone shifted, his words laced with sincerity. “Benedict speaks highly of your sister. It’s rare for him to show such genuine interest, Charles. He’s not one to court frivolities.”

Charles leaned back, his gaze sharpening. “You understand, Anthony, that Y/N has had her fair share of shallow suitors. She’s cautious, and rightly so. My priority is ensuring her happiness and protecting her from anyone who sees her as a fleeting amusement.”

“Benedict doesn’t play such games,” Anthony replied, meeting Charles’s gaze head-on. “In truth, I’ve never seen him take such an interest in anyone. Your sister seems to have stirred something in him—though, knowing Y/N from your stories, I suspect she hasn’t made it easy for him.”

Charles allowed himself a faint chuckle. “No, she certainly hasn’t. Y/N is not one to be charmed easily. But it’s clear your brother is determined, which could either work in his favor or cause him considerable frustration.”

Anthony inclined his head, his expression softening. “Benedict values substance, as I’m sure Y/N does. They may both surprise you.”

Charles studied him in silence for a moment before offering a measured nod. “We’ll see. For now, I’ll judge him by his actions, not his words.”

Y/N lingered just beyond the doorway, her heart racing at the snippets of conversation she managed to overhear. Charles’s voice, steady and firm, carried faintly through the air. He’s defending me, she realized, a pang of gratitude swelling in her chest. Her brother’s protectiveness had always been her shield against the pressures of society. Yet, there was another voice—smooth and commanding.

The Viscount Bridgerton.

She had never met Anthony before, but his reputation preceded him. To hear him speak so highly of his brother was... surprising. Benedict’s charm had seemed effortless, but perhaps it ran deeper than she had assumed.

Careful not to draw attention, Y/N eased closer to the edge of the doorway, curiosity getting the better of her.

Anthony’s final remark, “They may both surprise you,” was met with a soft clearing of a throat. Both men turned to see Y/N stepping into the room, her expression poised but her gaze quietly assessing.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” she said with a faint smile, addressing Anthony. “You must be Viscount Bridgerton. I apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

Anthony rose immediately, his movements fluid and respectful. “Miss Y/N,” he greeted, his tone warm. “The pleasure is mine. I was just remarking to your brother on your keen sense of discernment. It seems Benedict wasn’t exaggerating.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her smile deepening. “He spoke of me?”

Anthony’s smile mirrored hers, though he chose his words carefully. “Indeed. Rarely have I seen my brother so animated in recounting a conversation.”

Her gaze flicked briefly to Charles, whose stern expression had softened, before settling back on Anthony. “That’s high praise coming from you, my lord,” she said lightly, though her eyes gleamed with amusement. “Perhaps I should be flattered—or cautious.”

Anthony chuckled, gesturing toward the chair opposite. “Flattery or caution—either is warranted. But if I may, Miss Y/N, Benedict is many things, but insincere is not one of them.”

Y/N seated herself gracefully, her expression thoughtful. “Then it would seem your brother and I have much in common,” she replied smoothly, though her mind raced. What exactly has Benedict told him?

As Anthony and Y/N exchanged polite conversation, Charles observed his sister closely. Her tone was cordial, her posture poised, but he knew her well enough to detect the subtle sharpness in her gaze—a warning to anyone attempting to pry too deeply. She wasn’t rattled by Anthony’s words, but she was undoubtedly calculating her next move.

Anthony, for his part, seemed at ease. His diplomacy was well-honed, his remarks layered with subtle reassurances. Yet Charles couldn’t help but feel the quiet tension in the room. Anthony was here not simply to visit a friend, but to ensure Benedict’s intentions were made clear—or perhaps to defend them.

“I find it intriguing,” Y/N said, interrupting Charles’s thoughts, “that you’ve taken the trouble to visit us, my lord, when your brother has already made his interest known. Surely, you trust his judgment?”

Anthony’s brow arched slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I do, Miss Y/N, though it would be remiss of me not to learn more about the woman who has managed to hold my brother’s attention.”

“And have you drawn your conclusions already?” she asked, tilting her head.

Anthony leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady but not intrusive. “Not entirely. But I do know this: my brother is a man of passions—art, creation, and the search for something meaningful. He finds those qualities rare. I suspect he believes he’s found them in you.”

Y/N’s composure didn’t falter, though her chest tightened slightly at his words. Her response was deliberate, each word measured. “An interesting theory, my lord. I wonder what he might say if he were here to speak for himself.”

As the conversation unfolded at Whitestone, Benedict Bridgerton was oblivious to his brother’s bold intervention. He sat alone in the Bridgerton family’s drawing room, a half-finished sketch resting on the desk before him. It was an abstract piece—a hazy rendition of the way the light had played across Y/N’s face as she’d described the painting at Lady Danbury’s soiree.

Frustrated, he set the pencil down and ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t seen her since the garden farewell days ago, and the memory of her enigmatic smile lingered like a half-finished melody. Every word she had spoken felt deliberate, each glance calculated. Yet, for all her guardedness, he had glimpsed something more—an intensity that matched his own.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the sketch with a mix of irritation and admiration. What is it about her that has me so utterly undone?

The door creaked open, and Colin poked his head inside, his ever-mischievous grin firmly in place. “Still brooding over Lady Y/N?”

Benedict scowled, though there was no real malice behind it. “I’m not brooding.”

Colin stepped inside, uninvited, and plucked the sketch off the desk. “Is that so? Because this,” he said, waving the paper, “tells a rather different story. Don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over one of Anthony’s sermons.”

Benedict frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Colin flopped onto the settee, clearly enjoying himself. “Anthony’s gone to Whitestone, hasn’t he? To visit Y/N and her brother. He practically ordered Newton to saddle the horse this morning.”

Benedict shot to his feet, his voice incredulous. “Anthony went to Whitestone?”

Colin’s smile widened. “Oh, yes. Didn’t he tell you? I’d wager he’s there now, making some long-winded speech about Bridgerton honor and the seriousness of your intentions.”

Benedict’s fists clenched, though it was more out of frustration than anger. “Of course he would meddle,” he muttered, pacing the room. “I don’t need him playing matchmaker.”

“Perhaps not,” Colin replied, his tone light. “But I suspect you’ll thank him in the end. Anthony may be insufferable, but he has a way of clearing obstacles—even those you’re too stubborn to see.”

Benedict ignored him, walking around in the room furiously waiting for his brother to come home. He did not need Anthony meddling with his business when even he didn't have the chance to visit you or buy you flowers. He prayed that his brother didn't scare or intimidate Y/N in any shape or form.

Back at Whitestone, Y/N’s mind churned as Anthony’s words settled. The sincerity behind them was disarming, but it also raised questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

She glanced at Charles, who was watching the exchange with his usual stoicism. Her brother was protective, and she valued his judgment, but she also resented feeling like a piece on a chessboard. Why should my life’s direction hinge on the machinations of two Bridgertons?

Y/N straightened, her voice breaking the charged silence. “You speak highly of your brother, my lord. But I can’t help but wonder if his interest is shared equally by the rest of your family. Surely a marriage, that you keep mentioning I might add, between a Bridgerton and an earl’s sister comes with certain expectations.”

Anthony’s expression didn’t falter, though his gaze turned contemplative. “You’re right, Miss Y/N. Family expectations can be... formidable. But we Bridgertons tend to weigh them against the matters of the heart. My brother is pursuing you not for duty, but for something far greater. That is why I came—to assure you that his pursuit is no fleeting fancy.”

Her breath caught for the briefest moment before she composed herself. “And yet you speak for him instead of letting him speak for himself. Tell me, viscount Bridgerton, is it a tradition of your family that the elder brother visit first before the man himself came here to court me or are you just more excited than Benedict?"

Anthony’s smile turned faintly amused. “Perhaps. But as the head of the family, it is not a tradition, but my duty to do so."

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the Bridgerton drawing room, where Violet sipped her tea, listening to Eloise debate some pamphlet on societal reform. Colin, seated nearby, was making a show of writing letters while sneakily trying to eavesdrop.

Suddenly, the front door opened with a sharp creak, followed by the heavy sound of deliberate footfalls. The atmosphere in the house shifted.

“Anthony,” Violet remarked, looking up from her teacup as her eldest son entered. His expression was stony, his movements clipped.

“Anthony, you look—”

Anthony!" Benedict’s voice roared through the house, heavy with fury.

"Benedict," Anthony greeted cautiously, straightening. "What’s the meaning of this outburst?"

"The meaning?" Benedict spat, his voice echoing through the room. "You went to the Whitestone estate without even telling me. You had no right!"

Violet, startled by the commotion, stood. "What’s going on here?"

"Ask your eldest son," Benedict said bitterly. "Apparently, he’s taken it upon himself to play matchmaker or, worse, guardian of my personal affairs."

Anthony’s jaw tightened, though he remained outwardly calm. "Benedict, I was only acting in your best—"

"No!" Benedict interrupted, his voice rising. "You were acting in your best interest, Anthony. Or, at the very least, what you think is best. You didn’t consult me, didn’t even think to ask what I wanted!"

By now, the household was gathering in the hallway, drawn by the shouting. Eloise whispered to Colin, "This is far better than the last novel I read."

Anthony’s patience began to fray as he stood taller, his tone hardening. "I went because I thought you might care for her, Benedict! And if you do, it’s only natural to ensure the family is suitable."

"How dare you presume to know what I care for!" Benedict snapped. "And what of her? Did you think she’d appreciate you barging in, uninvited, to assess her worth like livestock? I don’t even know if I care for her, but now I may never have the chance to decide for myself because of you!"

Anthony’s face fell briefly into guilt before he rallied. "I wasn’t trying to ruin anything. I was trying to protect you—"

"Protect me from what, Anthony? From a young woman with a talent for art and a brother navigating his new title? Or perhaps from the whispers you always seem so terrified of?"

"You don’t understand," Anthony said sharply. "These things matter. Reputation matters. If you pursue her—"

"Stop!" Benedict’s voice was loud enough to make the rest of the family wince. "You don’t get to make this about reputation or family honor. You didn’t even think to come to me first, and for that alone, you’ve overstepped!"

Violet interjected, her voice firm. "Both of you, enough. This shouting is unbecoming."

"Unbecoming?" Benedict scoffed, his anger undiminished. "What’s truly unbecoming is my brother meddling in affairs that are none of his business!"

Anthony took a deep breath, his voice dropping but still heated. "I went because I thought it was for the best, Benedict. If I was wrong, then I apologize. But don’t act as if I’ve committed some great crime for trying to protect my family."

Benedict shook his head, his jaw tightening. "If you wanted to protect me, Anthony, you should have come to me first. You should have trusted me to handle my own life."

Without waiting for a response, Benedict turned and stormed out of the room, the sound of the door slamming behind him reverberating through the house.

Benedict rode hard, the crisp autumn air stinging his face as he left Mayfair behind. The rhythmic pounding of his horse's hooves against the packed dirt offered little solace, the anger from his fight with Anthony still churning in his chest. The thought of his brother making decisions about his life—his relationships—without so much as a conversation left him fuming.

The horse slowed as they approached Hyde Park. Benedict hadn’t meant to end up here, but the vastness of the greenery and the relative quiet of the park seemed preferable to the confinement of Bridgerton House. He dismounted near a cluster of trees, tying his horse to a low branch.

Wandering through the park, Benedict eventually spotted a familiar figure seated beneath a sprawling oak tree. Y/N sat cross-legged on the grass, a sketchbook balanced on her knee, her brow furrowed in concentration as her hand moved deftly across the page. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice his approach.

For a moment, Benedict simply observed her. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on her face. There was a peacefulness about her that pulled at something deep within him, a stark contrast to the chaos of the morning.

He cleared his throat softly.

Y/N jumped, her pencil jerking across the page. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide before recognition dawned. “Mr. Bridgerton!” she exclaimed, a hand flying to her chest. “You startled me.”

“I apologize,” Benedict said quickly, stepping closer. “Startling you was not my intention. I... Well, I didn’t expect to find anyone here, let alone you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, though there was a trace of humor in her gaze. “Hyde Park isn’t precisely secluded, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Touché,” Benedict conceded with a small smile. “Still, I seem to have a habit of interrupting you.” He gestured to the sketchbook in her lap. “May I?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edges of the paper. Then, with a resigned sigh, she handed it over. “It’s not finished,” she said quickly.

Benedict took the sketchbook, his eyes scanning the page. It was a study of a fountain in the park, the water captured mid-flow, the surrounding trees sketched with delicate precision. “This is remarkable,” he said sincerely. “The way you’ve captured the movement of the water—it feels alive.”

Y/N flushed at the compliment, though she tried to mask it with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s nothing special. Just practice.”

“Your modesty does you no justice,” Benedict said, handing the sketchbook back to her. “This is more than practice. It’s art.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, but she said nothing, her eyes dropping to the sketch.

They sat in silence for a moment before Benedict spoke again. “I owe you an apology, Miss Y/N.”

“For startling me?” she teased, though her tone was light.

“For that and...for my brother’s intrusion at your home earlier today,” he said, his voice more serious now.

Y/N looked up sharply, her expression unreadable. “You knew?”

“I only found out after the fact,” Benedict admitted, frustration seeping into his tone. “Believe me, if I had known what Anthony was planning, I would have stopped him.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t unsettling to have the Viscount Bridgerton show up unannounced, but your brother was respectful.”

“That doesn’t excuse him,” Benedict said firmly. “He had no right to involve himself. Whatever this is,” he gestured between them, “it’s our business, not his.”

A flicker of something passed through Y/N’s eyes—surprise, perhaps, or even approval—but it was gone before Benedict could decipher it.

“Your brother’s actions are understandable, though,” she said finally. “Family often feels entitled to protect us, even when we don’t need their protection.”

“‘Entitled’ is the word,” Benedict muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

Y/N tilted her head, a trace of amusement creeping into her expression. “You sound angry.”

“I am angry,” Benedict admitted, though his voice softened as he continued. “Not just because Anthony went behind my back, but because I... I don’t want anyone to think I need someone else to make my decisions for me. Least of all you.”

Her brows lifted at his candor, and a small smile played on her lips. “I think I can decide what to think of you, Mr. Bridgerton, regardless of your brother’s interference.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink around them. There was an openness in Y/N’s gaze that felt like an invitation, though to what, Benedict wasn’t entirely sure.

“May I sit?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N gestured to the patch of grass beside her. “Be my guest.”

Benedict settled himself beside her, leaning back against the tree trunk. The tension that had coiled in his chest all day seemed to ease in her presence.

“Do you often come here to draw?” he asked after a moment.

“Whenever I can,” Y/N said, glancing at the fountain in the distance. “It’s one of the few places in London that feels...free.”

“I can see the appeal,” Benedict said. “There’s a tranquility here. A sense of space.”

“And yet you seem restless,” Y/N observed, her eyes studying him intently.

Benedict chuckled, though there was little humor in it. “I suppose I am. My family has a way of...complicating things.”

“Families tend to do that,” Y/N said lightly.

He turned to look at her, a question forming on his lips, but he hesitated. “Do you...” he began, then stopped.

“Do I what?” she prompted.

“Do you find it hard?” he asked finally. “Being the person others look to? Shouldering the weight of their expectations?”

Y/N’s gaze grew distant, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her sketchbook. “I think we all bear expectations, whether we like it or not. The trick is deciding which ones matter and which ones don’t.”

Benedict nodded, her words striking a chord. “And have you decided?”

Her lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. “I’m still working on it.”

They fell into a companionable silence, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the faint splash of the fountain. For the first time that day, Benedict felt a sense of calm.

Perhaps, he thought, this wasn’t such a terrible day after all.

( part 2 anyone?)

[netmors]

Mr. Bridger looked at Lady Sabine's sketches with irony, hoping to cheer the girl up a little in such a depressing situation: - So who was it? Miss Wren? I don't believe you saw a living dead person? Your thoughts are frighteningly correct, Mr. Bridger, - Alexander joined the conversation. - According to the found records of old Captain Pellaeon, he personally witnessed the death of the admiral at the Battle of Bilbringi… Hera turned even paler. Five hundred years… Impossible. - Wait, Alexander, but that was over five hundred years ago! How could he? How can it be alive now?! - I would like to know this as much as you, Miss Syndulla. - Arghhhhh, I am more concerned about those who were with him in the castle and attacked me, Mr. Kallus and Mr. Jarrus. They do not seem like his usual pawns. They were… not very kind. - Hm, calm down, Mr. Orrelios, that's what we're trying to find in the journal. Presumably, they're not as free to act as the former Grand Admiral. - After they dealt with Pryce and chased us, I'm not so sure of your words. - Oh, here it is!

…."On my deathbed, I can finally tell, no, I can forget these terrible memories of that fateful day. I will never stop thinking about what happened that day, and I will blame myself until my last breath on this mortal world, but… But, Force, I… I must go… Go before they come! The traitors who dared to go against the will of the Emperor! Who turned their back on their Grand Admiral! Those he came for in their final hour!"...

Mr. Kallus finished reading the last entry, and the company sank into an uncomfortable silence. Then, sighing, the former Imperial said: - Well, things are starting to make sense… Other records from the Coruscant archive mentioned two allies of the Grand Admiral, supposedly responsible for Thrawn's death, however… Years later, they also died. - As you can see, no, - Miss Wren summed up the conversation gloomily, and then looked at Alexander. - Apparently none of the former Imperials can find peace even in the afterlife. Or… Unless they followed him voluntarily…

Making the text in the "style" of the 19th century turned out to be more difficult than I thought.

Inspired by the first half of Bram Stoker's novel "Dracula", this unusual art post for Halloween turned out.

Soundtracks:

Secession Studio - All Your Rage, All Your Pain

Secession Studio - Be Bold and Be Brave

Secession Studio - Veil of Shadows

[hyunebunx]

saw the soft thoughts post and i hope i’m not late >.< please forgive my typos or grammatical errors love i just woke up 🥹

soooo imagine a lazy saturday morning with hyunjin where you both just wanted to sleep in and cuddle on your shared bet until late in the morning. apparently you had to force yourself to get up because you were getting hungry and hyunjin—being a clingy boyfriend—is sticking to you like glue, and be like “noooooo don’t go!!!” because he doesn’t want to get out of bed but you had to drag him up. he became a pouty baby while being clingyyyy maybe a backhug when you were cooking, a stolen kiss when you were about to eat, helping you wash the dishes but he put some soap bubbles on the tip of your nose, asked you to go out and the spend the rest of the day with him outside maybe stroll around the city, an art museum date, go to a café and watch him sketch/paint you~

ughh to be loved by an artist bro i’m still half asleep so i hope i’m making sense... anyway have a good one deni ! 😽🩷

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff and a loooot of kissing, you've been warned lol

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my love <3 this is the cutest idea ever!! thank you so so much for trusting me to write it hehe <3 listen, this got quite steamy in the middle, idk what happened i blacked out fgsdgkj can't help myself when it comes to this man apparently. anywayss, hope you'll enjoy it <333

Mornings spent sleeping in with the love of your life, all cuddle up and intertwined, were truly your absolute favorite, a blessing you didn’t take for granted. You were both busy people, with busy lives that accommodated one another like it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting together like the last two pieces needed to complete the puzzle which revealed your love story.

Hyunjin was a heavy sleeper, clinging to every thread, no matter how thin, that transported him to dreamland to rest a little more. Just five more minutes, that turned into ten, fifteen, which ended up stretching into half an hour on good days. On the bad ones, when he was more tired than usual, nothing could get Hyunjin out of bed before the afternoon rolled around. You understood – he needed his rest – but it didn’t make missing him and his bright smile any easier.

You never knew you could miss someone even while they were dozing off next to you, blissfully unaware of how your heart almost jumped out of your chest to slip under his shirt just to feel his beating, desperately searching for confirmation he felt the same. And he did, of course he did, how could he not when your name and sweet face were constantly spinning around in his mind like some sort of live wallpaper, making him unable to concentrate even on simple tasks?

Though right now, neither of you was sleeping, cuddling to Hyunjin’s chest with one leg over his lap as you caught him up on the latest work gossip. You’ve been awake for almost two hours now and for once, the universe seemed to be on your side as no sunray managed to peek through the small crack left in the curtains, allowing you to continue lying around in peace.

“Anyway, so the printer caught on fire and that was Kim’s last straw. She threw all the papers on the floor and then proceeded to plop down on them and cry. I felt so bad.”

Despite his empathetic nature, Hyunjin lets out a short laugh, voice still husky and laced with sleep as his fingers tangled in your hair. “How did she even manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You yawn, hiding your face in his chest briefly. “Jay used the printer last to scan pictures of his cat’s toe beans and I guess some fur got stuck in there and ruined everything.”

He slowly shakes his head, whistling. “See, that’s why I’m a dog person.”

Prompting your chin on his chest, you look at him with raised eyebrows. “Ok Mr. meows at cats because he wants to get into their good graces.”

“That was one time!”

You giggle and he joins soon after, staring deeply into your eyes until the laughter dies down and every thought leaves your mind like it wasn’t even there to begin with. Dark eyes dart between yours and your lips, subconsciously licking his plush bottom one and telling you exactly where his train of thought has stopped. Patience was not one of Hyunjin’s virtues, so the hand in your hair moves lower to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you quickly adjust, both hands sprawling on his chest to help you lean down and finally connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, lips merging perfectly as neither of you is in any rush, content to take the time to taste each other. However, it quickly gets messy, tongues meeting and complicating the familiar dance, making it hot and breathy but oh so delicious. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’ve been waiting for this ever since he woke up, constantly thinking about his rosy lips and driving yourself crazy as whatever he was saying faded in and out of hazy memory.

Hyunjin kissed you like no other, like kissing was an art he invented just to practice on you. One he managed to master throughout the years of your relationship but couldn’t get enough of, obsessed with the idea of improving and finding another unexplored corner he could take over and claim as his own.

A cold hand slides easily under your top, gripping at your waist in an effort to bring you closer, almost causing your arms to give out. You break away from the kiss and Hyunjin whines, displeased but still helps you settle on top of him more comfortably, guiding your body as you straddle his hips.

This new position allows for better access to what you’re both desiring, with Hyunjin wasting no more time in bringing you back down again, capturing your lips. With both hands on exposed thighs, the shirt he gave you to sleep in barely covering anything, Hyunjin loses himself in the taste of you, licking into your mouth and lightly biting on your bottom lip as your hands move lower over his stomach, needing to discard him of the annoying clothing.

You make to pull away but his lips follow, causing him to sit up and move one of his hands on the small of your back for support, not allowing you to slip away from him. With a mind of their own, your hands quickly abandon his shirt and move around his shoulders, meeting at his nape to deepen the kiss and lick at his bottom lip which he appreciates by the groan he lets out.

You feel him everywhere, hands groping and squeezing every bit of your body in the exact way he knew you loved, turning you to putty into his hold. By now, his dark hair is a mess from all the pulling – your fingers needed something to anchor onto.

“Hyun.” You inhale deeply, his lips moving down your jaw, restless.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles, barely hearing you.

“Breakfast.” You gasp out as he lightly bites the skin, quick to soothe it with his tongue. “I’m hungry.” Mostly true, you’ve been lying here for hours after all, who wouldn’t be hungry? But also because you knew if you didn’t stop him now, neither of you would get to eat anything before dinner time rolls around.

Hyunjin pauses, hot breath fanning your neck as he slowly tilts his head to look at you, his wet and swollen lips distracting. He’s speechless for a moment, almost like he can’t believe you interrupted him, like a child whose favorite toy is abruptly taken away. When it clicks in his head you are actually serious, Hyunjin barely registers the way you peck his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, ok connoisseur of romance. What a way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle as he gently lays you down on your back, knowing he could never be truly upset, no matter what kind of stunt you pull. He was most likely thankful you said something, surely hungry himself.

Scooting towards the end of the bed, your feet barely get to touch the hardwood floor before Hyunjin’s arms circle your middle once again, pulling you to his warm chest without a word.

“No, don’t go!” He whines, burring his head in your shoulder in protest.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, pounding from all the love you carried for your other half, the man you couldn’t imagine life without.

“Baby.” You coo, softly running your fingers over his hands on your stomach in a way to coax him. “How am I supposed to cook us breakfast otherwise?”

Hyunjin sighs, squeezing you to his chest for two more heartbeats before releasing his hold and allowing you to stand up. When you turn to face him, one of his big hands has already brought yours to his lips to plant a feather like kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t go without me.” He mumbles, pouting slightly, and you almost explode like a piñata, staining him with your love and adoration that will surely trap him in this apartment for days trying to get it out. Not like he’d ever mind if that were possible, proudly showing off and talking about your feelings for him to anyone who’d listen, right after talking their ear off about the love he holds for you.

So, that morning, you waddle together to the kitchen like two penguins with Hyunjin refusing to stop hugging you from behind even when you started cooking. And after that, spoon feeding you on the counter and forgetting all about his needs until you threatened to take away his cuddles.

He caved in immediately.

[alnair-jpg]

Olympics AU Info dump!

First, I am blown away by how much love the series is getting, thank you all so much! I do really enjoy all the comments and reactions in the tags. Know that they all delight me and the only reason I don’t reply to everything is because there are so many! But I read them all 💕

General questions:

Can you draw the designs or concepts? Write fanfic in this AU?

Yes of course! I’d love for you to tag me if you post them so I can see

Do they all know each other?

At first, I would say no- with the exception of Nico and Will (they’re developing a whole backstory in my head that I cannot and will not stop.). But they all meet in the Olympic Village after the opening ceremonies and quickly become friends. They all try their best to attend each other’s events. (Someone please tell me how Percabeth becomes a thing. Please. 🙏 )

Why didn’t Percy win gold?

Percy was an Olympic medalist in swimming before moving to diving. After competing in several swimming events and feeling like they were all just small variations of the same thing, he wanted more of a challenge. He chose diving to stay rooted in to the water, but to add a new dimension to his bodily awareness and control.

What’s Annabeth and Luke’s rivalry?

They most definitely trained together, and it was Luke’s skill that motivated Annabeth to aim for the Olympics. But, she wanted to compete for her home country, Greece, which Luke thought was just a shortcut since there was a clearer path to an Olympic team in a smaller country. Annabeth is constantly trying to prove to him that she would have made it to the top of the sport either way.

Also, apologies to the IRL fencers out there for the inconsistency. I know fencing is a gendered sport, and Annabeth’s gear/style are inconsistent, please forgive the oversight ☺️🫶

Volleyball?

The whole Hunters of Artemis are a volleyball team (that apparently has no country 😅). Thalia ends up the captain. When Reyna moves on from tennis they welcome her with open arms.

Rejected sports

Will as a runner. Canonically, he’s super fast, but just having him as a sprinter didn’t fit with his personality.

Will as a pole vaulter. Specifically the guy that lost because he was ‘blessed a little too much’ and knocked down the bar. I will not explain further.

Will as a gymnast. He was this || close to being a gymnast essentially modeled after Steven Nedoroscik, I had the sketch and everything. (I shared it here!) But when an anyonomous ask clued me into the sick medical team uniforms it all fell into place from there. (Thank you no-longer-anon @helyeahmangocheese !)

Percy in anything equestrian related. I see him not having the patience for all the formality of it all, but he definitely crashes Hazel’s shows and chats up all the competition (the horses.)

Annabeth on a sailing team. Also, related to that, Reyna on a sailing team. It was a fun idea, especially for Reyna and her history with pirates but ultimately it was really hard to capture in a few illustrations.

Nico in several winter sports. For consistency mostly. He could fit for a lot of winter sports - ice skating and snowboarding are my personal favorites.

Leo as a shooter. He would most definitely build his own gear and make tweaks to his weapon. Which would get him immediately disqualified.

Jason in discus. Jason as a basketball player. Golf is just… fitting. 😂

Other Characters I’ve been thinking about

(that may have art in the works… and may not actually be athletes!)

Clarisse

Meg

Grover

Rachel

Lester / Apollo

Mr. D

Chiron