#hey look a new ot4

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

So I made this post with a promise of headcanons, and here we are!

Read ahead if you don't mind or already aware of spoilers!!!

Sorry if the picture is small that's the best I could do

Bi-Wal:

Has liked Dong-Young since childhood (duh)

Is as flirty as he acts like around a crowd, he was raised in a household where it's rare but often times not meant to be taken seriously but for him being overly affectionate is just how he shows affection

Is very touch starved and will demand attention is needed, this man doesn't stop til he gets a hug, some cuddles, or a kiss

He suffers from nightmares based off his family which yeah...are a lot...

I always headcanon him being the one who knows a lot more of the LGBTQAI+ side of things and has been open his pansexuality since he knew the word

No i will not do a bi joke for him, he is pan to me

Man-bun man-bun man-bun man-bun man-

Wants a big family but understand if Dong-Young or the others are not into the idea

Second best cook

Dong-Young:

Endy icon. Legit was allowed to dress however she wants and refer people to call her another name but was forced by her parents to dress up "proper" for the sake of royal image, what else?

Uses all pronouns and cried the first time one of her brothers used he or them pronouns

Very rarely gets called her princess name

Actually does have the ability to change her gender with magic but it's too tiring

Eats a lot

Has a massive fear of the dark and vase empty rooms since childhood due to being isolated a lot

Can't cook for shit but learning

Owns a kitten now cat in her home on human realm when she ran away she loves a lot and kind of became the house's guardian

Does not get along with her parents for obvious reasons above and the whole plot of "you must marry this man we never met so we can end a war we started instead of doing a meeting"

Is a hoodie stealing gremlin

Do-Hyun:

Since he's the second eldest besides Bi-Wal he's much more mature than them all by a land slide. yes even more mature than the one older than him

A thing I would like to write in as he is the guard dubbed The Black Turtle he has this ability to shield those he pick but still gets scars from any damage towards the shield

Is question is sexuality a lot since arriving the the human realm but no says he demi

Likes anime and games but doesn't say anything other than he knows certain things

Collects rocks and crystals

Sage the house often

Third best cook, rarely cooks in general and when he does they aren't that special

Ee-Jung:

As he's the guardian of The Red Phoenix he has fire based abilities like smoke shows, fire starters, sparks, etc.

Best cook

Deeply despises his parents and relatives for the treatment towards his sister Ah-Hin as well the things he and her were forced to do growing up such as him dress up like a girl and her dressing in rags and always dirty

Took a while for him to look at makeup or "feminine" things and not shiver but now does wear makeup but very rarely

One of the youngers with Dong-Young so they get each other in a funny way

His eyes get fire red or orange when he's mega mad

When he goes into his guardian form he has small markings of feathers

Likes to be pet

Nails grow fast like talons when he's stressed or really angsty or angry

Heals up rather fast if he isn't severely injured, it just brush away after a few minutes like ash

Has a collection of CDs he got from the human realm

Them as a relationship:

This is them after Ee-Jung joined the relationship

In canon of the manga's ending, he was iffy seeing Dong-Young marry but remained loyal til the end but he wept when he gets offered to be her lover

Has always loved Dong-Young child childhood but unlike Do-Hyun silently wished it away and not deal with the heart ache later on

Cuddle pile is arranged as: Bi-Wal - Big Spoon / Main Hugger Do-Hyun - Second Big Spoon / First Middle Spoon / The one who wraps his arms around Dong-Young Ee-Jung - Middle Spoon who flops on top trapping the legs and Dong-Young Dong-Young - Small Spoon / Middle Spoon sandwiched between Bi-Wal and Do-Hyun and is often has her hands, legs, and arms wrapped around all three

I will cry and be happy if someone gets into this manga series and make a edit of this ship as this song

Ee-Jung and Bi-Wal are usually allowed in the kitchen to make food if their lovers are hungry

Ah-Hin and her soon to be husband (lets face it they're cute) Woo-Hyun are huge supporters of the relationship and are ready to fight if someone disagrees for any reason!

More gifs of what could be them?

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Twenty

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 2,626

Themes; isekai, slow burn (eventual smut), canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for swearing and mature themes

Notes; Hey guys! I'm just a tad bit late on posting but I'm sure it's alright! I tweaked the cover for the series, so I do hope you like the new additions to it (like the red strings I added). I'm working on a Rafayel one-shot that I'll post sometime soon...uh, and I think that's pretty much all I've got to say until after the chapter.

I'm sure yall are tired of the one character-centric chapters 😭 I'm gonna try to wrap it up as quickly as I can!

I hope you all enjoy the newest part to ToF!

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

During your stay at the Tower of Thorns, you were given a room. Well, you wouldn’t exactly call it a room since it felt more like an ancient prison cell with its dark stone walls and shoddy furniture.

There was an antique desk against one of the walls, a wooden chair placed in front of the table, and a tiny, twin candle set hung on the wall. While the room was scarcely decorated, at least you had a bed and a mirror.

As you got changed into some new attire, you pause for a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror. There on your bosom were blue markings engraved in your flesh, like cracks that would appear if someone wedged their blade into the frosted ground.

It was a clear symptom of Cryoriasis.

Cryoriasis was a rare and strange disease. Physicians have only recorded a few cases in old textbooks. The infected will eventually lose consciousness and be unable to move as if frozen solid.

Only the Creatio protocore from the Tower of Thorns can remove it.

“To make that peculiar jasmine bloom…” You murmur to yourself as you slide your dress on, clicking your tongue in annoyance. This is your only chance. You need to befriend the Foreseer so he lets down his guard. Then, you might be able to approach the Creatio protocore and take it for yourself.

Though you wonder…Why does the Foreseer care so much about that jasmine in the first place? It seems like you need to make your own investigation on why that is…

The following morning, you examine every inch of the Tower. Every decoration in this place is beautiful, but each one lacks character. They possess the same aloofness as the Foreseer himself. It appears they are trying to frighten strangers.

This place is huge…and almost lonely. It was too big of a place for just one person to live here.

Having found a silver bottle in one of the many rooms, you fill it with water and head back to the top of the Tower to take care of the jasmine. Once you reach the top of the steps, you see him.

The Foreseer.

His back is turned to you, but you still feel on edge as if you’re walking on thin ice just by being in the same vicinity as him. 

“You’re…not here to supervise me, right?” You ask him softly and he turns to face you with a raised brow before responding, “It appears your confidence is lacking.”

“It’s not like I had much confidence in the first place,” You murmur under your breath before you turn away from him to step toward the fragile little flower. 

A few prayers slip from your lips and you gently pour a few drops of water onto the plant. “‘O fairest jasmine, my life is in your petals. Don’t partake in the sweetness of Death,” You whisper your prayer to the little flower.

You knew that if the jasmine died, you would be joining it in the heavens shortly after.

From the pinnacle of the Tower, you spy a group of people walking along the mountain path. They resemble ants that fell into a desert of salt. If there are others here to distract the Foreseer, you could use it to your advantage.

You point toward the figures in the distance and turn your head to look at the dark haired man next to you, “Are they here to receive your prophecies?”

The Foreseer glances at them and with his right hand, he writes a series of silver symbols in the air. Suddenly, a blizzard befalls us. It swallows the mountain path, and the people disappear in the blanket of snow.

“Are you…trying to kill them?” You rest your hands on the stone that crowned the top of the Tower and squint your eyes, trying your damnedest to see any signs of life in the distance.

 “After getting lost in the snow, they’ll have no choice but to turn back. Their survival is but a guarantee.” The Foreseer says this as if it’s a fact, but humans are stubborn.

They might be desperate enough, like you, and try to fight their way through the snowstorm.

They could easily perish, even if the Foreseer thinks otherwise.

“Do you despise the requests for prophecies?” While you ask your question, you set the silver bottle down on the ground.

“Fate cannot be changed. Instead of acknowledging this truth, humans still fight against it. Especially when their future is not what they hoped it would be.” As he speaks, the Foreseer glances at you– almost as if he’s talking directly to you about wanting to change your fate. 

You clear your throat and lower your head, pretending to agree with him, “I understand…I will focus on tending to the jasmine and not ask about my future.”

Even if it’s utterly meaningless, you’re not going down without a fight. You just hope that your show of resignation will help you gain the Foreseer’s trust.

Several days have passed since then, you have once again forgotten that you were in a dream.

A memory.

This fragmented memory was beginning to feel more and more real. Why is it that you were recalling all of these pasts– futures?– now, of all times? For what reason did you need this information?

You fear how many more times you can take this.

Here, you have already memorized your daily routine for taking care of the jasmine. You could do it in your sleep– which is what you were technically doing in the first place.

In the morning, you hum as you take your silver bottle to the Tower’s pinnacle. There you see the Foreseer gazing at the bright, blue sky.

“Good morning, Foreseer,” You quickly greet him as you step past him and toward the jasmine, not expecting a response from him…and he doesn’t respond. You hesitate before looking up to see a sky free of clouds- serene azure reaching far and wide.

“Do you need someone to listen to your musings?” You continue with your attempt at small talk with the quiet, cold man.

“Silence.” He turns his body around to face you.

Well fuck you too then—

“Gardeners do not require mouths to work.”

You hold back the urge to spit curses at him and take a deep breath, biting down on your lower lip as you silently water the jasmine. Though you notice the Foreseer is acting a bit strange.

Suddenly, the sky is filled with the cries of birds and you’re shocked by what you see. Thousands and thousands of silvery white birds fly toward the Tower of Thorns. The sky is covered in a shroud of crystalline feathers– clear as frost in the morning sun.

They shimmer like a nebula within reach.

“What are they?” You breathe out in awe, forgetting about your anger for a moment.

“Arcticyons.” As he says this, he raises a hand. One of the birds lands on it, seemingly answering his summon, and happily chirps.

“Does it know you?” You question, looking from the bird to the Foreseer’s face.

“They pass the Tower every year when they migrate.” He responds and even though he sounds as monotone as ever, he looks at the little bird with an expression full of the warmth one would greet an old friend with. “Alas, that was eons ago..”

“I have never laid my eyes upon a creature as stunning as an arcticyon,” You muse, wanting nothing more than to hold the pretty bird in your hands. You’re sure its feathers felt like crushed snow, so soft, and you assumed it would probably feel cold to the touch.

“Your hand.” The Foreseer says and, while you’re confused, you reluctantly hold it out. He places his hand on top of yours and you panic, pulling back your hand.

“Don’t be afraid. Humans are the least of their concern.” It seems like the Foreseer is trying to comfort you?

You take a deep breath and hold your hand back out. His hand, warmer than you imagined it to be, gently grabs your palm. The silvery white bird hops from the Foreseer’s hand to yours. Its feathers reflect the colour of the sky, deceptively depicting a light, brilliant blue.

“It’s lovely…I guess you don’t just stay secluded indoors and read all the time.” Even though what you’re saying is a statement, it comes off a bit teasing.

“So that is the conclusion you arrived at while resting in ice.” He seems a bit miffed by your words.

“It’s because…I’m curious about the Foreseer. Your name appears in the Tome of the Foreseer, but the text only speaks of you as Astra’s tool…I don’t think its accounts are accurate.”

You should probably be a bit more careful with your words because to a follower of Astra, they could sound sacreligious. 

The Foreseer, however, remains expressionless. “Astra does not write His own story. The imagination of mortals is what remains in the sands of time.”

The Foreseer lets go of your hand, and the arcticyon returns to its flock. Quietly, he watches them fly away, bidding them farewell.

“I have to admit, you aren’t as merciless as winter. You care about the jasmine, and you remember to wait for the arcticyons once you’re able to move.” As you name each thing off on your fingers, you notice the coldness in the Foreseer’s gaze return.

“You are not here to study my behaviour. Your wild curiosity almost led to your demise.”

As the days continue to pass you by, you’ve grown used to this dream. If you were honest, you would have completely forgotten that this was a dream, if not for your memories of the other three men.

But while the Foreseer checks the jasmine every day, it’s not enough to get closer to him or the Creatio protocore. You realized that you need to spend more time with him.

Today, after watering the jasmine, you purposefully walk by the throne room. Your gaze being drawn to the narrow staircase and the pillars of ice that were formed behind and around the throne itself. And there the Foreseer sat, atop his throne, reading.

You clear your throat as you lightly step into the room, clasping your hands together. “It’s a wonderful morning, Foreseer. Have you paid a visit to the jasmine?” You have a small smile on your face, trying to appear as kind and unassuming as possible.

“What do you want?” He asks, coldly. His gaze never straying from the book in his lap.

“I-I don’t want anything. Why would I…” You sigh, dropping your hand so it hits your thigh.

Geez, you can’t do anything without it seeming suspicious to this man…

“You’ve never passed the throne room after watering the flower.” It’s a simple, yet effective response that leaves you stunned to silence.

You never realized he paid enough attention to you to memorize your routine... 

“Uh…” You were clearly grasping at straws, but you finally had an idea. “Did you know that today is Wisshen Day?”

“I have heard of it,” The Foreseer replies dryly, voice devoid of emotions.

“Where I come from, everyone prays to Astra by lighting sky candles. I made one with a few scraps of paper…so maybe tonight…” You trail off with your lips nervously pressed together in a thin line before the Foreseer finally looks up from his book.

“I don’t do such things.”

Ah…He is such a wet blanket.

He certainly knows how to silence you with a single sentence– and kill the mood.

As the day turns into night, you climb to the top of the Tower with your handmade sky candle. The night sky watching over you as you lean against the corners of the tower. A sigh escaping your lips as you waited…and waited, but the Foreseer has yet to reveal himself. 

“Of course he’s not going to join me…He’s the Foreseer. Why would he need to pray to Astra whenever he always has His blessing.” You speak to yourself in a low voice with a pout.

Then, you light your candle, watching as its weak flame shines– almost like a small shard from a star.

“‘O Omniscient Astra the Almighty, please don’t let me become like ice. There are so many places I wish to visit, things I want to do, so…please, allow me to live a little longer…” 

You’re not sure why it feels so…weird to pray to Astra. The you in this dream seems to be a devout believer in the God, but…You? Something feels off about it, but you can’t seem to place your finger on what exactly. 

After you whisper your wish, you let go of the sky candle. You watch as it floats into the air until it finally breaks. The pieces of paper scattering and falling to the ground at your feet, like cherry blossoms from a tree.

Wait…Does that mean Astra denied your wish? That little–

You let out a defeated sigh and kneel down to silently pick up the scattered pieces. You can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes. Terminally ill and denied salvation by a God?

This really…It makes you wonder what you did to deserve all of this.

Before you can wipe your tears, you hear footsteps approaching and you turn your head in the direction of the sound.

Under the cloudless sky, radiant moonlight illuminates a figure. It casts a glow as white as snow on those blue robes. You try to calm yourself down, knowing that the Foreseer would believe it to be stupid that you were crying over something like this, and force yourself to smile.

 “‘Tis…a good joke, for even Astra thinks my wish is ridiculous. It seems even He’s told me to give up…” 

“For Him to hear you, I suggest using a sturdier vessel.”

Was he…comforting you?

An iridescence glitters in your hand and materializes into a lantern of frost. “Is this…ice? You can set ice aflame?” You question after rubbing your eyes dry with your sleeve.

“That would be determined by your fervent hope.” He replies, looking away from you. A small smile tugs at your lips before you light the ice lantern.

The fire flickers before the lantern is engulfed, ice turning a warm orange. “How do I let the winds carry it?” You slowly rise to your feet, holding the lantern in front of you. The Foreseer’s face is lit by the flickering flame.

Fire has brought warmth to his frigid gaze.

He draws a few symbols in the air, and almost immediately the lantern in your hand comes to life. It floats to a greater height. An excited laugh escapes you and you turn to look at the seemingly cold man. “I’ve never seen a sky candle like this! I thought you didn’t celebrate Wisshen Day.”

“I wasn’t lying…However, it just so happens a few lights are needed for tonight.”

The symbols that the Foreseer has drawn begin to transform into ice lanterns that soar in the air. Above the Tower’s pinnacle, countless lit ice lanterns fill the silent night sky. You gawk at the spectacle right before your very eyes.

Did he…do all of this for you?

You glance over at the man who was taking over your thoughts. “It’s so beautiful…Will Astra hear my wish with so many lanterns?” 

“Only He knows.” The Foreseer turns around to head toward the stairs.

“You’re just going to leave? Why don’t you try making a wish?” You were beginning to feel like the two of you could get along. You didn’t want this to end so soon…

“There is nothing for me to wish from Astra.”

He almost sounded…resentful?

I added some verrrry subtle foreshadowing that wasn't in the original games! I wonder if you're able to tell just what part has foreshadowing in it? 🤔

As I said before Zayne's Foreseer chapters are still ongoing so I'll hopefully be done with him soon, so I can move on to one of the other guys. Since I'm skipping Abysswalker, Lightseeker will be next and I'll try not to go too into detail with the story like I am with this one since I'm sure it's not that interesting and yall probably want to be back in the present already— but either way, let me know how yall are feeling about these flashback/forward chapters and if you think I should keep most details of Lightseeker in this story!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[asukaskerian]

monthly word count - may

TOTAL: 3 026... :((((((((( this month has been BAD for my concentration. upside, i plotted out several things like cherry wine and also wasted idk how long making family trees for uchiha and senju. totally essential, glad you all agree. u_u;;;;

ok i also tried to come up with a quick svsss arranged marriage bingqiu and got so into "no but i need more setup for it, it makes no sense like this" and now it seems to be SQH crack with qijiu instead because *shen yuan hasn't been born yet* what the frick self.

POSTED : nothin.

IN PROGRESS -svsss cracky plot divergence (1 545 words) -bleach suburban ot4 (1 481 words)

-- svsss -- The truth wasn't that Airplane had hatched a master plan to sneak out from under his System's unforgiving yoke.

The truth was that he'd been buried in emergency inventory lists to his eyebrows for the last two weeks, and just that day had to deal with eight different customers who couldn't understand why heightened demon-human hostilities would mean their ancient viagra tea would be harder to procure, all because his shifu thought he could do with more asshole-handling practice. The last thing he needed was Shen newly-Qingqiu getting in his face about the wrong wood being used in his tranquility-promoting benches.

Who the fuck caaaaaaares bro shut the FUCK up we all know it's because the wood grain's not the right swirliness for your "artistic vision"!

So he lost his temper.

In true Shang Qinghua fashion he lost it in the privacy of his own mind and nowhere else. "Ah, shixiong, you understand, we're too understaffed to send a team! It would be months before an expedition could be justified."

"Why is that."

Airplane had created Shen Jiu to be a bitch, but sometimes he was still surprised at the depths of bitchiness he managed to plunder with a single eyebrow.

"Because I try not to feed more than five shidis a week to Colossal Orchid-Faced Ants when I can help it?"

The way Shen Quingqiu paused and gave him a considering look had Shang Qinghua freeze solid for a second. Fuck fuck shit abort--

"Shang-shidi's tongue seems in fine form today," Shen Qingqiu commented in a silky way that Airplane translated into 'ooh, a challenger to my bitchy crown'. "One would almost think he didn't find his mistake anything to complain about."

... Jjghbgffhhh.

-- bleach --

Karate chop: umm. Hi! I hope i'm not bothering you, Grimmjow-san? Karate chop: we found new kittens! Kazui insisted we show you. :) Karate chop sent a picture Karate chop: they're hanging out behind my father in law's house, haha Karate chop: wonder where they were born? Surely not too far from here. Karate chop: ohh, there's one more kitten! She must be shy, it's the first time i see her! Karate chop sent a picture Karate chop sent a picture Karate chop: i'll stop spamming you now. Have a good afternoon, Grimmjow-san! Me: no new cats Me: rat royale battle tho if youre into that You sent a picture Karate chop: ahahahah oh nooooo, their little fists! Karate chop: :D :D :'D You sent a picture Me: lil flower in between two bricks Karate chop: oh! That's a carnation! How did she get there? How pretty. Karate chop: Kazui found you a buttercup!  Karate chop sent a picture Me: heh Karate chop: ~^_^~ Me: hey kurosaki Karate chop: yes?  Me: the fuck happened to your house Karate chop: oh Karate chop: haha Karate chop: Nel-chan didn't tell you? :) Me: She did Me: The little you told her anyway Me: s'about the other day? Karate chop: aheh... yeah. Karate chop: ( ; ω ; ) Me: im bothering to tell you im sighing irl is how much im sighing abt this. wtf nerd glasses kurosaki  Karate chop: ._. Karate chop: it's not a bad thing, really! The neighbors... Me: yeah i aint ever left a roof over my head over neighbors unless there was a knife fight involved. What else was in his moron cheeto head? Karate chop: aheheheh Karate chop: you don't mind if i talk to you about it? I don't want to bore you Me: i'm ASKING ABT IT do you want me to put up a sign too Me: give me the deets already woman Karate chop: :O grimmjow-san is a gossip!!!!!!!! GASP. Me: do i gotta pull out the emoticons

[mhrarepairmonth]

Rules & Guidelines (pretty much everything you need to know)

Prompts ✦ AO3 Collection ✦ Asks/FAQ

Hey ghouls! As MH Rarepair Month creeps closer and closer, here are some rules, guidelines, and everything you need to know for this event!

Don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions, comments, or concerns that may not be addressed under the cut!

What is Monster High Rarepair Month?

This event is dedicated to super rare romantic pairings from all generations of Monster High. The 'spirit' (pun intended) of this event has its roots in crackshipping, any ship that has less than 10 works on AO3 is permitted. (see the fandoms tagged for g1, g2, g3, the g3 movies, and general 'toys' fandom tags to see if your pairing is eligible)

Monster High Rarepair Month will run during the entirety of September, with prompts being delegated on a week-by-week basis.

How do I participate?

Just create something about an ultra-rare pair! Whether it’s fanart, fanfic, edits, headcanons, meta, poetry, analysis, gifs (gifsets if you’re feeling fancy) - anything and everything you can think of is welcome! Following the prompts is encouraged, but if you’re really inspired by something outside of the prompt list or want to combine them in any way, that’s cool too! (PS - if you have a really niche crack pairing you've been waiting to show off, this is your time to shine!)

Please use the tag #mhrarepairmonth in your works as it will be tracked! You can also mention this tumblr, mhrarepairmonth, in your submissions if you want to be extra sure it gets reblogged!

Feel free to add your work to our AO3 collection! It's by no means required, but it's fun to have everything all in one spot.

All submissions will be reblogged to this blog by the end of each week. Late submissions are also permitted, whether it's by a week or even longer! :)

What pairings count?

As mentioned above, ships should not exceed more than 10 works in the above MH AO3 fandom tags. We’re counting counterparts from each generation as separate characters, so if there’s a ship with >10 ships but they’re marked under the Monster High (Toys) fandom tag, take a closer look and see if the pairing from whatever generation you want to create for is eligible! Some exceptions to our >10 fic limit may apply, see this post for more information.

Polyships/OT3s/OT4s+ are allowed, provided they also follow this rule. Get creative - maybe you'll even create an entirely new relationship tag in the process? :)

Since this is a ship-focused event, your work should be focused on a romantic pairing; even if the characters aren't explicitly dating, they should hold a romantic interest in one another. Incestuous pairings and selfshipping will not be included in this event.

Are crossovers allowed?

Unfortunately, crossovers from fandoms outside of Monster High won't be permitted (sorry EAH we love you 💔) Feel free to cross over the various generations of MH characters, though! As long as your pairing follows the rest of the rules, go crazy!

Other Rules

1. Follow general fandom etiquette; The principles of being kind and respectful of others’ works and don’t like, don’t read apply (for the latter, where applicable). Ship/character bashing will not be tolerated, and most importantly: tag your work properly!

2. Works that have been plagiarized or generated using generative AI will be excluded from this event.

3. NSFW works will be allowed - non-con/dub-con and adult/child relationships will not be permitted. Please be sure you follow Tumblr’s guidelines regarding explicit content. Worst case scenario, you can post your submission elsewhere and just link it here so it can be shared :)

4. Whitewashing, racism, transphobia, homophobia, ableism, sexism and any other forms of bigotry will not be tolerated. However, works that explore these themes (i.e, internalized homophobia) will be accepted, provided they are tagged with the appropriate warnings.

5. Have fun! Rarepair month is supposed be a fun and silly event to explore or create really rare pairings.

[thebluestbluewords]

cinderellaverse?? In my 2024??

it’s more likely than you think!

(for context: the rotten ot4 are wildly codependent, Ben is possibly seducing them all via unreciprocated acts of kindness, and this takes place directly after the iconic Good Boy scene, only with some AU changes that aren’t ready to post yet).

(why am i posting this if no other context is finished yet??? Because I’m needy and crave validation. Next question, please).

+

“Ugh,” Mal agrees. She looks mostly asleep still, which is understandable. “Weird. Did you eat yet?” 

Carlos lifts the napkin-wrapped bundle in his hands. “I brought food. To share. If you want.” 

This, predictably, gets Mal up. They’re far enough away from the isle that Carlos can almost believe that their parents aren’t lurking behind every dark corner of the castle, but not so far that they’ll turn down fresh food, even at stupid early hours.

“Berries?” 

“Yeah. Brought berries for you. And muffins.” 

“Evie wants chocolate,” Mal says immediately, stretching out both hands for the napkin-wrapped bundle. “And weird that Ben made you meet someone new. I thought we’d already been subjected to every princess-type in the school by now.” 

“Not a person. He made me meet a— a dog.” 

Mal stops with the muffins in her hands still outstretched. “Oh,” she says carefully, which is nice of her. Their Auradon education must be kicking in, or some shit. “And you’re not halfway home?” 

“I was. But Ben sort of—put the dog away and tracked me down? He was cool about it. We went over afterwards to check out the stables, cause he thought maybe it was like, just animals I don’t like, and they’ve got cats and stuff there. And the dog was on a leash, and he’s actually super tiny and not murderous.” Carlos shrugs, telegraphing the motion as much as he can. Which isn’t much. He’s supposed to be working on the whole expressing emotions thing. Even though it’s so much easier to shut down entirely whenever he feels an emotion. “So yeah. Still alive, still here! And Ben’s being weird.” 

“Weird how?” 

“Just weird. He was being all nice and stuff. D’you think he’s been bribed by Fairy Godmother to get info on us?” 

“Might be,” Mal agrees, tearing into her muffin. She’s unwrapped the whole bundle, and laid them out in an order that’s got to make sense in her head. (it shouldn’t make sense. They can’t afford to be predictable. Predictable is how you get your lunch stolen, or poisoned, or eaten by pirates who think it’s funny to take a perfectly rotten sandwich and swap it out for seaweed slime). “You should eat though. You didn’t tell him anything, right?” 

Carlos pulls a scrap off the cinnamon sugar muffin. It’s the one Mal’s put in his assigned spot, which is directly across from her own, with Evie’s double chocolate on the left and Jay’s lemon poppyseed on the right. He’s not really hungry, but it’s still too much to turn down food, so he rolls it between his fingers until half of the sugar falls off into the napkin, and the rest of it is compressed into the smallest possible ball of muffin flesh. He can eat a little piece of it, and then Mal will stop asking, and he can eat for real later. Once he’s alone. 

He pops the ball of muffin into his mouth. “No. Not really.” 

Mal shoves another mouthful of muffin into her mouth. She picked the blueberry one, and it turns the whole mess of it vividly purple as she chews. “Cool. He’s probably just being a royal brat then, trying to get some new intel for the gossip mill. But hey, it’s cool that he showed you the stables. Maybe next time we need to get to town you can steal us a horse, yeah?” 

Carlos snorts. He’s seen a horse now, and there’s no way they can get away with stealing something that big and ornery. Cars might be bigger, but they don’t bite and they don’t poop and they don’t have teeth the size of his fingers and a desire to bite through anything that looks even remotely like a carrot. “Yeah, no. Horses are fucking giant.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Mal says casually. She throws one of her loose berries up so she can catch it in her teeth. Sometimes, when it’s just the four of them, Mal forgets to act human and does things like this. Things where she snatches treats out of the air with her teeth, when her neck bends in ways that a human’s shouldn’t, like she’s forgotten that she only has seven bones in her neck and not seventeen like a standard dragon. “Nobody ever wakes me up at the crack of dawn to show me cool shit.” 

Carlos wants to laugh and make this whole thing normal, but he’s fucking exhausted and the cinnamon sugar from the muffin is sticky on his fingers. He’s been trying to pull it apart carefully so that his whole hands don’t get covered in the crumbly topping, but that’s been working about as well as their escape plan so far, which is to say not at fucking all. “Yeah, yeah. He also made us run laps first, don’t be jealous.” 

Mal snaps her teeth. “I’ll be whatever I want. He didn’t do anything else?“ 

“Nope.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, mom. He just wanted to talk a bunch about how we’re settling in. And how we’re doing emotionally.” 

[luvnoirs]

OWN IT

paring: lisa x fem!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: after you publicly deny your dating rumors with lisa, she fucks you to prove a point

contents: strap-on sex

warning(s): nothing really... lisa's just upset at the reader and kinda mean. also lisa's solo in this sawry ot4 stans

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this is heavily inspired by mxlktxa's imagine so credit to them !! also this is lowkey rushed i just didn't want this to become another one of my millionth drafts

"hey ya'll, this is anita on the 108.7 FM radio show, and today i have with me one of the most popular artists out right now, y/n! her new album 'Secrets' just dropped two weeks and already secured a spot on billboard top 10. this is huge, y/n! how are you feeling?"

promotion is the same as usual. you wake up at the crack of dawn and get ready to converse with random strangers who pretend to give a fuck about your artistry. you put on a fake smile anyway, talking into the mic and answering the same repetitive questions. the interviewer clearly hasn't done any research whatsoever about you or listened to the album, you could tell because she's asking you about the meaning of the album as if you haven't answered this question in about twenty interviews already.

what you didn't anticipate, however, was the question that fell from her lips so easily and nonchalantly as if she was asking about the weather.

"i'm sorry?" your eyes widened as you stiffened against the now hard and uncomfortable seat.

the interviewer laughed swiftly before readjusting her mic, “you and lisa manoban? there's been some rumors about you two having an intimate relationship recently."

you've been to plenty of events and done thousands of interviews throughout your entire career and you've definitely been a little stumped by a few questions from time to time, but you've always been quick on your responses. making sure you remember your media training and keeping the interview running smoothly. this, however, truly stumped you.

you blinked. a million of responses running through your head at once.

"WHAT?!"

"who's lisa manoban?"

"next question."

"are you fucking serious..?"

"that's not true. we're simply just friends. i can assure you."

you ended up going with the calm and rational approach. claiming that you to are just friends who collaborated once and that's it. your fake smile returned back to your face but your eyes stayed a little wide from the blunt and embarrassing question. you silently thanked god that this interview wasn't filmed. it was live though, but you're sure the listeners and your fans couldn't detect the pure bewilderment that was on your face a few seconds ago.

the interview sensed your discomfort and decided to spare you from the topic of lisa manoban. the now painfully slow interview continued, your hands tightened at your sides as your mind shifted to the woman who'd just been mentioned.

you had first met a year ago at the billboard music awards. you had heard of her and her music but never really paid attention to who she was until that night. and when she muttered a quiet "sorry. excuse me" as she passed by you to sit in her seat next to you with her hand briefly touching your naked shoulder to make her heavy presence known is when you first saw her.

her hair was styled long to her middle back and she wore a black jumpsuit that hung to her body nicely. there was an opening directly underneath her covered breasts that revealed a glimpse of her toned stomach. she crossed her long legs and adjusted herself into the seat and as she looked back at you, she smiled.

she wasn't oblivious to your stares.

you two talked for nearly the entire first half of the show. most of the time you were actually listening to what she was saying while the other times you were trying desperately not to pay attention to the way her plump lips moved with every word, or the way her long accessorized fingers helped exaggerate her stories, or the shiny silver teeth gems on her canines, or the way her leg grazed your exposed thigh every once in a while. the only time you guys stopped talking is when lisa accepted her best new album award (which you had no idea even existed).

when she stood up to her name being announced through the speakers, she hugged her manager who was sitting to the other side of her, then turned to you. maybe it was the tiny sip of wine you and lisa have been drinking, but your bodies were working faster than your brains. lisa started to lean down for a quick hug while you rose out of your seat. your bodies roughly collided and you flushed, instantly embarrassed from the jumbotron displaying this interaction to the rest of the venue and on live television. yet when you started to pull yourself away from lisa, she only held your body flush against hers again. her hand laid against your lower back which felt like somebody had lit an actual match against your skin. you swear it felt like an eternity when it only lasted about two seconds.

she made her way down the rows and tables and onto the stage to say her speech. her speech was short and sweet. she thanked her fans, of course, then her label, her friends, her family, and as she began to end her speech her eyes found yours. the tension was probably worse now even with all the distance between you two.

then about an hour later during the commercial break, lisa had you bent over in the bathroom with her middle and index deep inside of you. your back arched into hers as you bit your own hand trying to muffle the impact of lisa's quick yet sharp hand movements between your thighs.

"- so any new plans for music? any new direction you're planning on taking?"

you snapped back into reality when you realized you weren't actually back inside that bathroom a year ago. the interviewer waited for your response as you cleared your throat and took a shaky sip of water. that question really did catch you off guard.

you managed to answer the question and this time you have to admit, it was a pretty good question. your response was probably the most genuine response you've ever given. it took your mind off of lisa and the growing wet spot on your panties for a while.

it didn't last long at all though because here you were, almost ten hours after the interview aired, grinding your hips back against lisa's strap.

she was obviously angry. not only could you tell by the scowl she greeted you with thirty minutes ago, but you could tell by the harsh grip she had on the skin at your hip as she guided you back into her thrusts. they were fast at first, but now she's slowed it down. with her front flush against your back, her free hand reached up to wrap itself around your hair, yanking it back so that your ear was exposed right next to her mouth. and when she spoke is when you realized that she wanted to make a point.

"we're just friends?"

you honestly couldn't even speak if you wanted to. lisa was grinding into you painfully slow and precise enough to hit that same spot every time. it would take a rocket scientist to form a proper sentence at this point. a noise had left your mouth in a poor response to her question. how could you two just be friends if she knew your body this well?

lisa on the other hand needed to hear from you and was annoyed with the lack of your words. she pulled out quickly and let you fall limp into the soft bed as she kneeled behind you still. it wasn't long before she turned you around onto your back and gripped your thighs to pull you closer to the glistening toy between her legs.

you groaned at the uncomfortable cold gush of air that hit your pussy. your heavy and quick breaths were synchronized. lisa didn't move to slide back inside of you but instead took in the view of your body that was sprawled out in front of her. your hair messy and the makeup you had on from todays promotion schedule ruined due from your tears and lisa's messy kissing.

"lisa-"

"i asked you a question."

you blinked a few times. lisa's hands were now by her sides as she stared down at you with an unreadable expression. you knew she was eager for your response yet anxious and slightly nervous. "i don't know, lisa."

you were honest. due to the media and all the paparazzi, you and lisa never made anything official. yet, you both knew there was an unspoken rule that meant neither of you were to see other people. it had been this way for a year; sneaking past paparazzi, late-night phone calls, and trying not to acknowledge each other in public. though for these past few months, you guys have slipped up a few times-- hence the dating rumors.

lisa didn't say anything but simply give you a nod. her hand making its way around your right ankle to lift it onto her shoulder while the other reached down to guide the strap back inside of you at an entirely new angle now. she grunted under her breath when she felt your fingernails dig into her forearm.

"oh my god-" you started to whimper into your hand until lisa smacked it away from your gaping mouth.

"no. i need to hear you, y/n."

and as she found her rhythm, she fucked into you much quicker than before. your body jerked against the soft sheets that your fingers had a death grip on. your body was much more exposed to her sharp eyes now and she watched you moan after every swift thrust she drove between your legs with a tight jaw.

with the hand that wasn't squeezing your thigh, she used the pad of her other thumb to draw slow circles against your swollen clit.

"do friends fuck each other like this?"

you shook your head instantly, your mouth too occupied with voicing your needy moans.

"exactly." she spoke roughly. "i want you... not whatever this shit is. i want to do things in public- fuck!"

you began to grind back against her, your movement cause the strap to rub even harder against lisa's own throbbing clit.

lisa leaned down as far as she could with your leg still wrapped over her shoulder and used her arm for support as your faces hovered over each other. she found your eyes struggling to hold contact with hers.

"i'm tired of hiding this y/n... so stop trying to hold me back. we both want this, right?" her words were soft in contrary to her fast thrusts. she waited for your acknowledgment as she watched you closely.

you gave a barely visible nod. you felt yourself reaching your orgasm soon and knew you couldn't be able to form an actual verbal response even if you wanted to.

"then after tonight- no more okay? fuck the media. i don't care anymore. you're mine."

you're really not sure if you even fully heard lisa or not. at this point, you didn't care about anything over than cumming all over lisa's strap and was so close to telling lisa to just 'shut the fuck up'. her fingers were back on your clit rubbing faster this time and your lips had finally touched for the first time tonight in a sloppy kiss. the sound of lisa's hips meeting the back of your thighs grew louder and so did the moans that slipped from between you and lisa's combined lips.

"lisa!", you couldn't tell if it was a moan or a cry as you continued chanting out her name into her mouth.

the orgasm finally had built up, washing all over your trembling body. lisa held you still against her, grinding into your body to ride out your high and for friction as she reached her own.

when your bodies finally came to a cease, lisa pulled away from you to remove herself from the harness. you watched, still trying to catch your breath, as she walked into the conjoined bathroom to clean the toy. after she was done, she walked back to the bed with her naked body exposed to you and her flushed cheeks that you always saw after she came. lisa met your tired eyes as she climbed into the bed and hovered over you.

"i meant what i said, y/n"

"i know, and i'm sorry", you spoke softly as she kissed the outline of your jaw. "i didn't mean to upset you earlier today. i just... i don't know-- panicked i guess? but, i want to go public now"

you could only see the top of lisa's head from your point of view, but you knew she was smiling between the crook of your neck. it was confirmed when she finally lifted her head to give you another kiss on the lips, then reaching over to grab her phone. she repeatedly tapped the screen, most likely putting in her passcode then tapped a few more buttons before placing slow wet kisses down your sternum.

with a confused look on your face, you silently questioned lisa with an arched eyebrow on your face only for her to laugh.

"well, the media's gonna need confirmation, right?"

[halestrom]

❦ ➷ get to know your fellow fanfic writers better ༊ ✧.*

Tagged by @frankthesnek so thank you for this

When did you post your first ever fic? 2004-ish on livejournal. It was Harry/Draco

First character you wrote for? Harry Potter, which tracks for being 13 and in fandom in the early 2000's

Main characters you are currently writing for? Rooster, Hangman and Bob from Top Gun. I love them so much.

Characters you haven't written about before but plan on writing about soon? I want to write a fic for Phoenix so badly bc she is Goals as a human being. Also, IceMav but ahhhhh

Fandoms your currently writing for? Top Gun, and still SGA

Platonic pairings you currently write for? I love all variations of AR-1 as friends and so I love writing them as friends. Bc their friendship is SO GOOD and so different in all the ways.

Romantic pairings you currently write for? Hangster, and I'm team Bob/Phoenix. McShep, McLorne, OT4

Your top 3 tags on AO3 if you post there? Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort which 10000% tracks

Current platform where you post your works? Only AO3, but also sometimes on tumblr, but one of these days I will migrate them over.

Snippet of the WIP you are currently working on?

My currently fandom is set in current day so I'm having fun like...writing text messages lol so this is the latest set of text messages within the fic (i havent added the emojis in cuz im lazy so far)

Rooster: Raise ur hand if u get to be the token queers at some sort of gala

Rooster: hand raise emoji

Hangman: hand raise, middle finger, hand raise

Hangman: but then again, if they want the best. They have the best. And that’s me.

Rooster: hey!

Hangman: Don’t worry boo, you make some good arm candy.

Rooster: Thank you.

Fanboy: Vulcan fingers emoji

Harvard: sucks.

Halo: Hopefully the food is good!

Fritz: maybe someone famous will be there?

Yale: You boys got your uniforms?

Omaha: lol

Hangman: gotta get a new pants. This ass cannot be contained.

Coyote: by that he means he split his seam drunk the last time he was wearing it trying to drop it low

Hangman: Betrayal. But point stands. Ass too good. Rooster can confirm.

Rooster: confirmed.

Coyote: kiss face emoji

Hangman: crying emoji

Coyote: hug emoji

Hangman: hug emoji

Phoenix: you two are pathetic.

Phoenix:  you both owe me a drink

Bob: If you go and buy fusible bonding tape you can add it to the inside seam of your pants to help reenforce it.

Harvard: fucking bob’s the best isn’t he?

Yale: always looking for us

Fritz: what a fucking beauty, bob

Bob: :)

Hangman: Bob, you’re almost making me want a backseater

Phoenix: BACK THE FUCK UP

Halo: 20 on Phoenix

Fanboy: thumbs up

Payback: same

Harvard: same

Yale: 100 emoji

Omaha: same

Bob: Agreed

Rooster: sorry babe.

Hangman: hey!

Coyote: I got u boo

Hangman: at least someone’s loyal

Coyote: 40 on Phoenix

Hangman: fuck all y’all

no pressure tagging: @nimuetheseawitch @spurious @wonkyelk @trainofcommand @gingerpolyglot @esteefee @colonelshepparrrrd and whomever else wants to do this

[gretchensinister]

Venom OT4 for the WIP game!!!

This was started some time between the first and second Venom movies. I've realized that when I have a ship I really like, I often end up writing a fairly substantial fic that focuses on everyone involved getting together. This was going to be that fic for Venom/Eddie/Anne/Dan. It starts with Eddie and Venom going over to Anne and Dan's for dinner after Eddie has told Anne about Venom still being alive--she's decided that Dan also needs to know. I wrote up to the part where Venom reveals himself to Dan. Last edit date was in August 2019 and I can't remember what distracted me away from it. If I did pick it up again I wouldn't change it to account for Venom: Let There Be Carnage. As for a plot? The plot is simply three humans and an alien figuring out a) that they want and b) how to structure a very new, very queer relationship.

I also had the goal of getting more Venom-form EddieandVenom involved in sex with Anne and Dan--for some reason the last time I was actively reading in the fandom threesomes and foursomes with Venom weren't getting weird/creative enough for me (or if they were, they weren't getting on screen enough. Things might have changed since then.

Here's a snippet:

“Eddie!” Dan smiled at him as he opened the door. Eddie waited to feel weird about being welcomed into a place he’d thought of as home for years, but it didn’t come. Of course, his weirdness-meter had been redlining regularly these days, and maybe had been recalibrated, too. This wasn’t even worth a wiggle of the needle, now.

Instead, he felt mostly the bewildered dismay he usually did upon realizing he was going to be spending time around a very attractive person and he had to make sure that said attractive person could never even suspect that he’d had those kinds of thoughts. But, whatever. Anne would only intensify the feeling, and he’d still probably end up giving something away. Her ability to spot things like that was what had led her to ask him out in the first place.

But in the end, that would be another thing that caused barely a wiggle on the awkward meter, because the reason he was here was to come clean to Dan about what he’d come clean to Anne about earlier that week.

And that was what was making him feel intense wariness along with everything else.

Hey, V, could you maybe tone it down a bit? We talked about this. Dan was doing what he thought he had to in order to save my human life.

And that is something I approve of, but he still tried to kill me when we last saw him. And he is standing between us and Anne.

Cut the crap, you know from me and Anne that’s not how good relationships work. It’s understandable that you’re scared, but we’re together now. When it comes to Dan…well, I’ve got us.

Okay, okay. Eddie started to feel less like he was trying to figure out how to decline a vital interview because it was being held on the observation deck of the Empire State Building and more like…well, that he was about to have dinner with his beautiful ex and her handsome new boyfriend and that he was going to tell the handsome new boyfriend some seriously weird shit during that dinner. Which was still a significant reduction in stress.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked. “Look, Anne says you’ve been doing better, and I can see that you are, but if I’m too much of a reminder of…everything that happened, I understand.”

“Sorry, no, you’re fine,” Eddie said. “Anne really thought you ought to be part of our conversations. And she’s right.” He held up the pastel pink box he’d brought with him. “I even brought social grease.”

“A Casey’s cake!” Dan gave him another big smile as they both finally crossed the threshold and headed up the stairs. “What kind?”

“Chocolate Apocalypse,” Eddie said, wondering just how weird it was to be noticing how nice Dan’s ass was at this moment.

We have a nicer ass when we’re together.

Yeah, but who’s going to get close enough to appreciate it?

Isn’t that what we’re trying to investigate tonight?

Uh. No, that wasn’t a conscious desire. No.

Are you serious? It was very obvious.

[srldesigns6277]

Isn’t it rude how Larries only care about L and H? I mean, the other three are in 1D too? Hello? Are they invisible?

Hey, if this was meant to be rude, umm I'm allowed to post what I want on my own page that's kind of how tumblr works.

If this was meant constructively, it's actually more due to what's available to reblog and find. I know I'm kind of an archivist on here, same as @harryisthelilspoon, and when looking through old blogs a lot of what can be found still is larry material. Plenty of things pertaining to the other boys has been lost to blog deleting and people leaving the Fandom, often in those cases old material has been covered with new intriguing things for those people. We try our best to find things for our blogs but ultimately it's up to us what to post. I always go looking for Ot5 or ot4 things it all depends on what's available.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Wed 26 May 21

Hiiii I’m a lil dummy and I miss stuff sometimes oops so anyway here’s what I missed yesterday-- full audio of Zayn singing the song Leave Before You Love Me (released just a few days ago by the Jonas Brothers) was leaked by Zayn’s cousin! Seems that Z probably demo-ed the song back when it was being shopped around but it ended up going to JB- which would be our loss except heyyyy we get to hear Zayn’s version now anyway! It’s on youtube and it is GORGEOUS, check it out, and anyhow that explains the seemingly random promo tweet from Zayn yesterday- I should have KNOWN to look further, sigh, if Zayn is online there’s ALWAYS a reason. Side note, this is the other song (besides Our Song) that Plested wrote on that was released the same day that Niall was teasing him about the other day, as he is promoting both singles at the same time (and how they’re both smashing it.) Also Niall liked a post of Joe Jonas’ about the song yesterday. Basically: this song is ALL UP IN the updates!

And speaking of Niall and his promo- he continues to insist his pronunciation of Niall and Nile aren’t the same, “they’re absolutely not” he says and clarifies: “Nile and Ni-Al.” Ummm... As someone to whom his demonstration sounds literally indistinguishable I have to say I’m enjoying the show (and thank you Anne Marie, who said “THEY ARE EXACTLY THE SAME” for proving that not being able to hear it is not just an American thing). “Listen to me” insists Niall, and also insisted he has “handsome hunk energy” (not ‘big baby energy’ thank you very much)- and in case you don’t believe it he pulled down his shirt to show off his chest hair in an interview, COULD A BIG BABY DO THAT? About NH3 Niall says “this year, next year, no idea.” He and Anne Marie tell us about a deadbeat employee who was cut from the video-- “It’s not in the video but we paid this dog to speak, like ‘woof’ obviously, when he’s been told to speak... and he didn’t speak when we told him to,” Niall admits he’s a fangirl for The Eagles, and Anne Marie makes him turn bright red by calling him out for looking at himself in the mirror; Niall’s collab promo strategy is hilariously identical every time but damn it, it IS fun and cute and effective, so hey carry on! “That promo with Niall I was quite hyper. I’d had a sip of coffee by accident, I thought it was hot chocolate and it switched up my ADHD like woah,” Anne Marie says to explain herself, no excuses whatsoever are needed but lol. Tickets are on sale now for Niall’s (management company’s) golf tournament.

Harry’s photographer Helene Pabrum was interviewed in a new podcast- she answered lots of Harry questions and shared some lovely unseen pictures, from behind the scenes of HSLOT, music video shoots (as recent as TPWK even), and more. She tells us about what she thought when she first started out with him, “I was a little bit obsessed with the faces of all the fans in front of the stage. They were all at the same time crying and happy and so emotional and I was like wow so for me it was as interesting as the show itself,” and how the pictures they posted during tour were chosen-- “On tour when he wanted to post a picture to instagram I didn’t know if he wanted to post a live, or backstage or audience anything else one. So I would just sent a lot of pictures like take all of this, do what you want and he would post one… he is the one choosing the pictures, he’s the one deciding on them. He’s the one doing it and he’s very good at this. He decides…” and “if he doesn’t want to publish the picture he doesn’t do. It’s as simple as this.” (Meaning, I’d guess, that she was aware of the stupid discourse about how Harry probably doesn’t like her photos- uh huh yeah you can tell about how he has continued to hire her over and over for years- because he doesn’t look “good” in them, but at least we can finally put that to rest now right?? Fans: I don’t like Harry anymore because he doesn’t share enough personal stuff. Also fans: ugh why would he post pictures of himself looking human and accessible I hate this get it away, someone other than him is probably to blame! But she also says “I really feel happy and grateful that I receive so many really truly kind comments and kind messages” so that’s good.) Anyway, she also said her favorites are the candid ones, and “when you see a picture of him with just a t-shirt brushing his teeth it’s just great so for me, I was happy with his beautiful outfit and being simple.” She says he didn’t have much interest in picking up any French from her (or Camille I guess hmmm), “maybe he prefers speaking Italian,” and “I was really surprised to see him dancing. I was surprised in a good way, he’s young so he’s good at learning things really quickly.” (She’s only a few years older than him but he’s just got that Big Baby Energy, WBK!)

Meanwhile, Kill My Mind is soaring up the itunes charts worldwide and Walls got a boost as well as the fanbase got ProjectKMM underway, and two more Australia Louis shows were added ×͜×

[let-them-read-fics]

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (1/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! Anon, I assume you wanted to see each individual relationship with the girls and not OT4 x Reader. If not, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

This post includes Jisoo and Jennie. If you would like to see Rosé and Lisa's, click the link below.

Click for Rosé and Lisa

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Kim Jisoo: The girl at the top of her class, breezing through her school years with little competition whatsoever. She was used to winning, and anyone that ever tried to challenge her eventually gave up.

You: Also used to being at the top of your class, you were the first person to actually give Jisoo a run for her money. You didn't shy away when challenged by her, and that took her aback.

Your rivalry was one rooted in academics.

When a new project was assigned and you were allowed to choose your teammates, everyone would flock to the two of you in hopes of getting picked.

Bragging rights were awarded to whoever had the longest line of people.

Impatiently waiting to see who scored higher on tests.

Rubbing it in when you did better, and vice versa.

"Ha! Take that, Jisoo. I got a 98."

"Don't get cocky, Y/N. I beat you by 6 points last week."

"Yeah, yeah," you brush her off. "Look who's on top now." You hold your paper up, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

Other competitions were held, and even the teachers caught on and would adjust their lessons accordingly.

"Class, today we'll be having a set of one on one debates, and an anonymous vote will determine the winner of each. The person who defends their opinion the most effectively will win. Jisoo and Y/N, you're up first."

Although losing was always annoying, it made you respect each other a little more.

You both loathed and revered each other, though you'd never let that secret out.

Fighting for the best scholarships and rankings.

Constant bickering and one liners in class

"Should I go ahead and apologize now, or is it okay to wait?"

"Apoligize for what?"

"Ending your career."

*unintelligible mumbling*

"What was that, Y/N?" Jisoo inquires, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at you.

"I said: you're going down."

She scoffs at that, unaffected. "Please, I'd like to see you try."

You ended up winning that day, and she was all *surprised pikachu*

School would always be interesting and eventful with her

Pretty much everyone else can tell that you have a thing for one another, but the two of you remain oblivious.

Turning Point

Both of you joined the academic team when you enrolled, which meant that you'd be going toe to toe with other school teams in pursuit of the winning title.

On one of your overnight field trips to face off against another school, you were assigned to the same hotel room.

"Mrs. Wilson, I can't stay with her--" You walk down the hotel hallway behind your instructor, hoping she'll see your point. Her reasoning for putting you together on the roster is beyond you.

"Y/N, it's only for a night. You know we can't afford to give all of you individual rooms; our budget's already small." She reasons, eventually turning towards you when she reaches the elevator.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, putting your hands up.

What she says next surprises you. "Who knows, you might enjoy it." A knowing look shines in her eye, and a small smirk threatens to tug at her features.

The elevator dings just as you go to question her about it, and she bids you farewell before heading in.

You can do this, Y/N. It's just one night; how bad can it be? You ask yourself, taking your sweet time in going back to the room.

---

An Hour Later

In an attempt to kill some time and recover from the fatigue your long road trip brought on, you've been trying to relax and take a nap. In fashion with your typical luck, though, Jisoo is making that nearly impossible.

"Jisoo, turn it down!" You groan, tossing a pillow at her head. She sits on the loveseat at the foot of your bed, completely fixated on the images flashing before her eyes as she plays her video game.

"Shhh, stop distracting me." She says over her shoulder, making you huff.

You value your pride too much to ask nicely, so you suck it up and stick it out for a little while longer. When she lets out a loud shout a few minutes later, though, you've reached the end of your patience.

Wordlessly, you get out of bed and stomp over to the TV, standing directly in front of it.

"Y/N, move! I'll lose!"

You stay there with your arms crossed, and are soon rewarded by the game's voiceover announcing: "Game over."

She huffs and sets her controller down, clearly upset.

"Sucks when people don't listen, huh?" You challenge, still mad that you've been denied a proper nap for so long. Every time you'd be right on the cusp of being drug under, slipping in and out of glorious slumber, she'd do something to ruin it. You're cranky now, and being petty seems like a just punishment for her.

"I can't believe you did that," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That was the championship match!"

"Oh well," you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips at that new piece of info. Perhaps justice has been served after all.

With one more warning glance at her to tell her not to do it again, you go back to the bed and get comfy, settling under the warm blankets.

---

30 Minutes Later

"ON YOUR RIGHT, ABOUT TO ROUND THE CORNER!" Jisoo bellows out, smirking when she feels you stir behind her. You scowl, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"Jisoo, I swear to God," you grumble, feeling the irritation rise in you all over again. You get up again and approach her, but she has a plan this time. In one fluid motion, she sticks her foot out in front of you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

"What the--" as you prepare to reprimand her, you see something out of your peripheral. Aided by your new perspective, you spot the remote controller on the coffee table right in front of you, just an arm's length away.

When Jisoo notices that you haven't screamed at her yet, she looks down and realizes her mistake. A dramatic moment passes where you both lock eyes, before immediately diving for the remote. You manage to get to it first, quickly hugging it close to your body and rolling away from her. She pounces a second later, reaching her hands around you to pry it from your grip.

"Give it back, Y/N!"

"No!"

You writhe underneath her until she manages to get the upper hand, straddling your hips in an attempt to pin you down. She sits back on her knees, gazing down at you as your chests heave from the effort you've exerted.

"Give it." She commands, holding her hand out expectantly.

You shake your head, amused that she thought that would be enough to sway you. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice." Her hands dart forward to your abdomen, and she begins tickling you mercilessly in order to make you surrender. Calls for her to cease her assault struggle past your lips, but you know it's futile. She's a determined person just like you, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.

So, after taking a second to think of a way out of your predicament, a brilliant idea pops into your head.

You finally let her pry your arms open, smirking when she cheers and claims victory. In one fluid motion, just as she had done before, you wrap your leg around one of hers and flip her onto her back before leaning down to kiss her. She tenses up at first, but her hands end up working their way to your hips as her lips begin to move against yours.

Your plan is backfiring a bit; you only intended to shock her and buy yourself time to steal the remote back -- you never thought you'd actually enjoy the feeling of her kiss. You tilt your head to the side to get a better angle and slowly skim your hand down to hers, where the device is tightly clutched. Her other hand has come up to your jaw, which she's gently guiding as she steals another kiss from your lips.

Her distracted state made it easy to get what you were after, and soon -- much too soon for Jisoo's liking -- you pull away with a victorious smile. She doesn't know what to say; in all honesty, she's almost forgotten how to breathe with the way you kissed her senseless.

"I win." You grin, hopping off of her and shutting the TV off before crawling back into the bed. She stays in that same position for a couple minutes, laying on the floor as she tries to sort through what the hell just happened. She can't even be upset right now; she brings her fingertips to her lips, skimming them over the heart-shaped pillows as she smiles.

The Fallout

Things were a little tense when you shared the bed that night

Anytime you'd roll over and readjust your head on the pillow in your sleep, unknowingly positioning your lips dangerous close to hers, her heartbeat would pick up and she'd have to roll over again

You pretended to be asleep when she scooted back against you, pressing herself against your front in search of the heat that your body provided. You brought an arm around her, enclosing her in a soft embrace that had her blushing crimson

Subtle flirting at the competition the next day

Sticking up for each other when one of the other teams got a little rude

"Hey, don't talk about her like that!" Jisoo warns, glaring at the student from your rival school. His uniform is mussed and unkempt, leaving it as no surprise that he was the one to say such a thing.

"Why do you care?" He laughs back, spurred on as his friends snicker along.

The question catches her off guard; just days ago, she was the one bantering with you and testing your limits. Now though, when someone else is taking it too far, she can't help but feel angry. "Because she's my teammate. Now knock it off or I'll report you to your dean for unsportsmanlike behavior."

He scoffs, but eventually opts to grumble out another insult and turn away, nursing his bruised ego.

"Thanks, Chu." You quietly say, having witnessed the whole encounter from the row behind her. A small smile tugs at your lips at her actions, warming your heart.

"No problem, Y/N. But you'd better help me beat him; I'm not losing to that idiot." You laugh and agree, shaking her hand to seal your pact. She tries not to get too caught up on the smoothness of your skin or how it reminds her of last night, but her brain doesn't listen.

Needless to say, you beat them.

Your team stopped by a nice restaurant on the way back home for a celebratory dinner

Jisoo sat beside you

Cue the blushing and quiet flirting

It's a new side of her that you're not used to seeing. Now, instead of being all hardcore and witty, a simple look from you can make her blush

It doesn't always, though; sometimes she grows bold and lays a hand on your thigh for a moment, laughing at something you said

It's giving very much so gay panic™️, but you wouldn't trade it for the world

After the dinner, you go back to the bus and sit in your seats (which aren't together, surprisingly).

As you scroll through your phone, you get a text from Jisoo. Attached to the message is an invitation to one of her favorite mobile games.

"Hey, Y/N. Will you be my player 2? 🎮"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

Jennie Kim: The girl who practically ran the school, always getting her way and never having to lift a finger. She was royalty: the queen bee sat atop her throne, giving orders to the masses that they followed blindly. The whole situation seemed straight out of a poorly-written teenage movie, and it always annoyed you.

You: The girl who stuck to herself, only having a close group of friends that she talked to. You weren't popular, per se, but you weren't cursed to exist at the bottom of the food chain, either. Many people knew you, but you only associated with a select few.

You avoid the "popular" crowd a majority of the time, opting to spend spare time in between classes in the library or outside, doing homework

Jennie is the type of person that has people lined up, waiting for her to ask them to do hers for her. She gets to skip class and do whatever she wants, and she usually takes advantage of that.

She's never been mean to you directly, but you've seen her and her posse pick on people in typical mean girl fashion

You've never noticed the way that she usually targets people who've said bad things about you. She sticks up for you without you even knowing.

So, as you would expect, when your best friend called you and begged you to accompany her to one of the biggest parties of the year (hosted by none other than Jennie's brother), you were definitely surprised. Neither of you are the type to go to anything like that, but you know that she secretly wants to peek into that world of luxury.

"Pleaaaaase, Y/N? I'll do your laundry for a month."

"Fine."

The Turning Point

Your stylish boots crunch lightly against the concrete as you stand outside of the frat house, grimacing when you notice a boy stumble to the side of the house and get sick.

"We might have to bump that offer up to two months," you say to your friend, leaning onto her car as she checks her makeup in the side mirror.

"If it keeps you here for an hour or so, then fine." She smiles, taking your hand and leading you towards the building. Upon opening the door you're immediately greeted by waves of the strong bass of whatever song is playing. Their rhythmic thumps reverberate around the house, and you choose to seek some semblance of peace and quiet by heading to the kitchen. Your friend comes with, and the two of you push your way to the drink bar for refreshments.

"Thanks again for coming along, Y/N/N. You're the best." She leans into you, saying the phrase loud enough for you to hear over the music.

"I know," you hold your head up higher, self-assured. "You'd better go find Benji before things get too wild," you tell her, taking note of how the crowd is quickly growing in size. Benji, her longtime crush, is the only reason you really agreed to tag along; she's been head over heels for him for as long as you've known her, and you see this as the perfect opportunity for her to finally tell him. She needed some backup, and you always come through for your friends.

"Alright, I'll come find you later," she says, nervously smiling as she kisses your cheek as a farewell. You shout encouragement to her retreating figure, grinning wildly when you see her throw her hand up in the air.

Considering you made a drink for her just then before sending her off, you take the time now to make one for yourself. Your hands skim through the air overtop of the different bottles, searching for your favorite flavors and types to mix. As you go to reach across the table for one of them, disaster strikes.

You gasp as cold liquid lands on your shoulder, following gravity's command and rushing down your back and chest. A flurry of apologies follows suit, and you feel a soft hand on the small of your back as you go to turn around.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jennie says, covering her mouth in shock. For a moment you're worried that she was dared to do this -- that perhaps her friends sent her off to ruin your outfit and embarrass you. When you find sincere regret in her deep brown eyes, though, all of those worries melt away.

"It's alright," you assure her, shaking your arms to get rid of some of the sticky drink that's trailed its way down. You set your half-filled cup on the table, no longer interested in getting anymore now.

"At least let me wash the shirt for you. I have a coat you can wear while its getting clean."

You furrow your brows at the offer, not expecting that from her. Not only has she apologized, which is practically unheard of from the prima donna, but she's willing to do something for another person?

"Uh, okay." You do your best to mask the confusion in your tone, but it's still plain to see.

"Follow me," she politely instructs, leading you down the hall towards what you assume is the laundry room.

She flips the light on and shuts the door behind you, walking into the closet to search for the spare set of close she keeps here.

When she emerges again, fluffy coat in hand, she begins stumbling over the words she was about about to say. Her eyes land on you, taking in the expanse of exposed skin now that you've stripped off the shirt you were wearing. She can't help but admire the sight; she subconsciously bites her lip, only being brought back to reality when you wave your hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Jennie?"

"What?" She eventually asks, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts swarming in it. She's always had a sort of thing for you, but she never imagined you could look that good. It should be a crime.

"I asked if you have a bathroom around here, so I can, ya know... wash up a bit. Whatever you had to drink is pretty sticky." You chuckle, moving your arm to show her how far it's spread.

"This room over here," she says, approaching a door on the wall opposite you, "is actually a bathroom. Convenient, right?" She asks, flipping the light on for you.

"Absolutely," you perk up, glad to know that you won't have to strut down the hall in your sports bra to get to a bathroom.

She steps to the side and pushes the door open for you, nearly melting when you give her a little wave and shut it behind yourself. She's got it bad.

She takes your shirt and throws it in the washer before setting the knobs correctly, knowing the best combos by heart. She and her brother are close, so it's not uncommon for her to come by and help him with chores when he gets swamped.

A few minutes later you come out of the bathroom clean and dry, nervously fidgeting with your hands as she turns to look at you again. Having the Jennie Kim looking at you in such a way and having her so close is a bit overwhelming, and you're not exactly sure how to deal with it.

"Here," she says, reaching around you to slide her jacket onto your arms. Her face hovers dangerously close to yours as she does, making you hold your breath in anticipation. She pulls the jacket closed, adjusting it so that it lays right, and you look into her eyes.

"Thanks, Jen."

Her heart speeds up at the nickname, though she tries not to show it.

"No problem, sweet thing." She flirts, taking you aback.

Just as you go to say something more, the door blasts open and a couple of her friends pop in. "There you are Jennie! What are you-- oh," they say, watching as the two of you spring apart.

When they realize who you are, they laugh among themselves. "What're you doing in here with her?" They ask, looking you up and down before ultimately appearing unimpressed. Jennie glances at you again, and you can see her going through some sort of inner turmoil.

"Thank God you guys showed up; she won't quit talking. I was just about to leave." She laughs, regaining the bitchy aura that she's known for. You set your jaw and nod, remembering why you choose to stay away from people like them.

"Wow, Jennie. You really had me fooled," you bite back, a bit shocked, but not surprised. You keep your eyes on hers as you take her jacket off and let it drop to the floor in front of her, grabbing a spare towel from the hamper on your way out the door. Her friends scoff at you, wondering what such a nobody like you thinks they're doing treating Jennie like that. You brush past them and send her one last look, conveying all the emotions you feel with a mere glance.

She's disappointed in herself, and she hangs her head as the girls scoop the designer material up and hand it to her.

----

45 Minutes Later

Just 15 more minutes, Y/N; totally doable. You reason with yourself. Jennie left the laundry room soon after you, leaving it vacant for you to put your shirt in the dryer and retrieve it when it was done. Now, clad in the warm material, you sit outside by the fire. Stars are shining brightly in the night sky, illuminating it so beautifully that your mind is taken off of what happened. They twinkle for you, and the sight puts you at ease.

What has that pleasant feeling dissipating in a second, however, is the sound of Jennie's voice as she exits the patio door.

She's talking to her friends about some boy that's in love with her, as the whole school seems to be, and you roll your eyes. With the moment officially ruined, you decide to head back into the house and spend the rest of your sentence there.

Once you stand up from your seat and turn around to take your leave, her friends notice you. "Jesus, you're really obsessed, aren't you? Are you following her or something?" One of them, a snarky blonde from earlier, asks.

You laugh at that. "Hardly," you glance at Jennie, though she avoids eye contact. "I'm sure you'd like that, though. Give you something to talk about other than your split ends." She reels back at your boldness, prepared to start a fight.

"You bitc--"

"Stop," Jennie finally steps in, cutting the girl off. She moves between the two of you, putting a hand on your chest and looking into your eyes.

"Jennie, I don't know what her problem is," the blonde squeaks out, trying to defend her actions.

"The problem doesn't lie with her," she tells her, leaving her puzzled. Jennie continues, "I lied earlier; I'm the one who invited her to the laundry room because I spilled my drink on her." You narrow your eyes at her following her statement, wondering where she's going with this.

"We probably would've kissed, too, if you hadn't walked in."

Your heart speeds up a little at that, but you're still hurt by what she did earlier. Having her be one way with you in private and another in public is never a good sign.

"I'm done with you guys. You turn me into something I'm not," she looks between the small following that's accrued, letting them know how she's been feeling for the past bit. The majority of them are stuck up and entitled, and seeing the hurt in your eyes put things into perspective for her. She likes you, and she wants to be better because of that.

"I don't understand, Jennie," one of them asks, sounding like she's on the brink of tears. Are these people really that invested? You know the hierarchy of popularity is confusing, but they make it seem like she's breaking up with them.

"We're not friends anymore. Not until you get your heads out of your asses and start being nicer."

The crowd clearly doesn't know how to react at her sudden change in attitude, but they mutter out various responses before some of them break away.

You look down at her and glance to the house, wordlessly telling her to follow you so that you can have a moment alone to talk. You lead her over to the patio and stand against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding relieved to finally get the words out. Her previous actions have been weighing heavily on her, and she's been doing some introspection. It's not entirely all of a sudden, though; she's been questioning why she still hangs out with them for a while now. This encounter just confirmed her desire to leave them.

"I shouldn't have lied like that. I know it hurt you." She looks away, feeling disappointed again.

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't fun to have my crush talk about me like that." You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"Crush?" Her head raises up, doing a terrible job of concealing the hopefulness she feels blossoming.

"Crush." You lightly smile at the way she blushes at your simple confirmation. She's too adorable for her own good; it's really no wonder than she has everyone on their knees for her.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say after a moment, nudging her shoulder gently. "It's more than your posse usually gives, so I appreciate it. You'd better mean it, though." You cock your head at her expectantly, a hint of warning in your tone.

"You have my word," she smiles, determined to make sure the opportunity you're giving her doesn't go to waste.

The Fallout

In the following weeks, she cut ties with more and more toxic people, causing a bit more drama to stir up, but she didn't care. You were by her side through all of it, as were your friends, and she saw what true community looks like. She had so many people at her beck and call back then, but none of them cared as much as your close knit group. They were in it because of her status, not because of her.

Walking her to class

Both of you sticking up for each other if people try to start stuff

Helping her correct her bad habits if she starts to get judgemental with someone or slips back into her old ways

Being patient with her

Her spoiling you randomly to show how thankful she is for you

"Miss L/N, we have a Candy Gram for you. Sent by Jennie Kim." A staff member says upon entering the classroom, walking the package over to you. You grin widely as you open the note attached to it.

"Come see me after class, Y/N/N. I have something for you."

You were excited for the rest of class

You rode your bike back to her dorm, parking it outside before knocking on the door.

"Hey, Jendeukie. What do you have for--"

You're abruptly cut off by her lips pressing against yours as her hands pull you in, turning you to mush. You sink into her arms and kiss back, reveling in the feeling of finally having this moment with her. You've been waiting for it ever since the party.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she softly admits, resting her forehead against yours. "I hope I didn't overstep." You can hear the nervousness in her voice, and you smile at how cute she is.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Come here," you pull her in again, lifting her up into your arms as you walk into her dorm. She squeals at the sudden move, but the sound is quickly muffled as you lean in to kiss her again.

[asukaskerian]

Monthly word count - September

TOTAL: 3 026 words :X

that's all?? it felt like more ;^;

POSTED: nop

IN PROGRESS: -bloodsport (390 words) -grimmichi superheroes AU (221 words) -madatobiizu cherry wine (1 537 words) -bleach suburban ot4 (878 words)

-- bloodsport -- "They checked out the historic neighborhood too, and the Ambassadors' Row where you'll be lodged eventually--"

Ichigo could see her losing patience with his shit behind her affable smile, and suddenly he was out of patience with it too, with himself. 

He still didn't want to do the tourist shit. But he needed to be doing something.

"What's the shittiest neighborhood you can get to in under an hour from here?" he asked, rolling his stiff shoulders and stuffing his hands deeper in his front pockets. 

Askin stared at him with his mouth open, and then moaned. "Oh nooo. Kurosaki, no. My man, my friend--"

"I'm not looking for a fight! I just --"

He forced himself silent, staring at the two Arrancars in front of him. Neither one was showing any inhuman traits right now, but he could feel them there. He could feel the whole room around him with that other sense that wasn't quite telekinesis -- that was, Urahara liked to say, to telekinesis what echolocation was to sound -- could feel the personnel discreetly waiting behind closed doors so he could have the lobby to himself, deferential and only vaguely annoyed that it was taking him so long to clear out. Askin was exasperated-worried-shielding; the Arrancars... 

The other one was small and thin and delicate-looking. They felt even more predatory than the woman.

Both of them, really, had the same fangy edge. Like cats watching a new creature wander by, trying to figure out if it was anything they could mangle or what.

Ichigo missed being unable to read an Arrancar's emotions properly. Normal human beings didn't feel things like that.

"If I'm going to live here," he said, firming his voice, his chin raised to meet their eyes in turn, "I don't want to only know the rich areas."

-- superheroes -- "So," Rukia said the moment they were out of the building and the rushing student crowds, and brought so much suspicion and emphasis on the word that Ishida and Inoue immediately went on alert like pointer dogs.

Behind them, Mizuiro and Chizuru arched their eyebrows; Asano blinked a full three seconds later. Okay, no escape from there, but at least when they drew closer it stopped anybody else from moving in too.

"Family trouble again?" Ishida asked, looking vaguely unimpressed, except for his wary, narrowed eyes.

"Eh... Sorta. Stray cat kinda wandered into my house and now we're nursing it back to health. It's, uh, bitchy." Ichigo made vague clawing motions with his hands and felt lame as hell.

Asano flopped against his shoulder to peer at his face; Ichigo sidestepped out from under him. "Hey! No, but there's something you're not telling here, Ichigo--"

"It's blue," Ichigo hissed under his breath.

Asano made a worried face and immediately huddled closer, telegraphing his sudden oh-no-big-secret-shhh! with every line of his body and every furtive (not) glance. "Whoa, whoa, buddy, that's, uh, not a cat then."

Groaning, Ichigo replied in the same exaggerated undertone, "you think?"

-- cherry wine -- "Send me Tatsuo next."

"Yes sir."

Izuna passed her as she went back into the receiving room, crossing the engawa and hopping down into the garden with him. "I'm back."

"Welcome back. News?"

"We're going to the theater this afternoon!" Izuna gave him a wide, insincere smile. "You had better not hate on the show, it was the best I could find."

"Huh." Madara arched an eyebrow. "Any reason why we must go, then?"

Izuna started counting on his fingers pointedly. "Because I want to see a show and you never want to go out; because we don't have any invitations for this afternoon so why not. Because I promised the Haruno sisters a date."

Madara ruthlessly shoved down the annoyance that wanted to bubble up at Izuna getting him involved in his social entanglements with strangers. Izuna had liked them, so it should be good enough for Madara -- and from Izuna's strange smile, the date wasn't even the point. 

"And?"

"We need to be seen out in town and not caring." A telling pause. "And it won't hurt if people assume we kept them around last night."

Decoy and political maneuver all at once. Alright.

After yesterday's clusterfuck of embarrassments and straight up ambushes -- the official apology, the tea party that was supposed to show unconcern and strength and instead got him drugged into a rut, the assault on Naohime trying to set them against the Senju and get them in trouble with the daimyos all over again -- they did need to do some damage control.

"Also you didn't even look at them last night!" Izuna added in a fit of pique, throwing his hands up exasperatedly. "I need some data if I'm gonna calibrate my search properly and they have really unique hair, which is the only thing you admitted to liking to me."

"--I see."

"It's all in really pure shades of pink! Not muddy or rusty at all, thick and long, everything, and they're both cute and they have very striking blue eyes to go with it, so visually they're great. As people they're also great, they're just looking for a fling and weren't weird about us being nobles or being shinobi, I will be so cross, niisan."

Madara swallowed back a chuckle. "Very well, I'll go."

-- suburban ot4 -- Grimmjow's face is still creased from the pillow. From the nap they just took, more of an excuse to curl up together and rest, keeping an ear out for Kazui. His hair is a mussed mess.

His face says 'please tell me I didn't hear what I just heard', but not in a hopeful way.

"... Kurosaki?"

Nelliel goes back to the mattress, sinks down to her knees at the edge. Behind her, Ichigo's feet shuffle tentatively. 

"Hey," Ichigo says, voice quiet, sad, guilty. "We're back."

Grimmjow stares up at him. He's still buried in comforters up to his hips. "Didn't go well, huh."

Another beat of silence, heavy. "No. The rental contract was -- we tried, he--"

"It's okay," Nelliel interrupts, gently, and doesn't look at him. "He changed the guest spots, yeah?"

"Fuck," Grimmjow mutters to himself, and rakes both hands over his face, jaw gone tight. "Fuck."

"I'm sorry. It's back to two guests now. I can't even say anything because that's just standard."

Nelliel and her package count as a single guest as long as the kid isn't out of her belly, and not a day longer. The second her child is born, that makes three.

[sugar-petals]

♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan 

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass.  Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn  Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground.  Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot  lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two  from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it  clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this.  You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

masterlist | bookmark/read it on ao3

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[sparrowmoth]

Rotten ot4: tattoo parlour and flower shop au, pls 🥺

@fuck-you-i-am-spiderman TATTOO/FLOWER SHOP AU LET'S GO

The Devil's Bargain is an up-and-coming tattoo and piercing parlour in downtown Auradon. Mal specializes in stylized realism and tends to hang out in the back room and draw or paint between clients, so the walls of the parlour double as a gallery for her to sell her artwork.

Carlos, meanwhile, takes appointments for any imaginable piercing. He's got quite a few of his own, mostly done on himself when he was younger, long before Mal convinced him to go pro and work with her.

Across the street, Fleur Hypnotica is a well-established flower shop, recently inherited by Evie, whose mother passed away unexpectedly the year before. To help cover the mortgage of the apartment above the flower shop, the only home Evie's ever known, she invited Jay to move in with her. He wasn't initially employed by the flower shop, but after noting his effortless charm with her clients, Evie all but begged him to let her train him as a florist (and not like he's ever told her no).

‣‣‣

Jay's first appointment at the Devil's Bargain is with Carlos. He gets a snake bite piercing while Evie has a consultation with Mal to discuss her idea for a thigh tattoo. She brings a rose from the shop as a live reference for the piece she wants and just "casually" leaves it for Mal on her way out. ("Smooth move," Jay whispers teasingly.)

‣‣‣

Evie adores Jay's new piercing and starts to consider being a little more adventurous with her own piercings, despite knowing her mother would have never approved of anything "extreme."

"She's not here," Jay reminds her constantly, taking her hand across the table and sharing in a look that holds a secret he will never tell.

‣‣‣

Mal turns up at Fleur Hypnotica just before closing one night, trying not to look too interested as she browses the displays. Jay's blasting music on his headphones while sweeping the floor, so he doesn't notice her presence until she pokes him, nearly giving him a heart attack. She's amused to see him like that, without his guard up...

"Hey," she says simply, smirking a little. "I need some, uh, references."

‣‣‣

Evie's more than a little pleased to see fresh flowers in a vase at Mal's station when she drops in early for her tattoo appointment the next day. The front room is quiet, so she bides her time admiring the art on the walls until she hears the front door jingle open as Carlos pushes through with a cardboard tray of steaming drinks.

He smiles at her and tells her Mal must still be in the back, but she'll be out soon and would she like a coffee because Mal asked for two but, between them, he's not sure she's big enough to drink all that.

Evie just giggles and shakes her head, thanking him all the same.

‣‣‣

A couple weeks later, the parlour door jingles open again and Evie strides inside, not having made an appointment. She sees Carlos at his station with his laptop open. He glances back at her and smiles quizzically, seeing the determination and hesitance in her face—

"Do you take walk-ins?" she asks, toying with the hem of her shirt.

"Sure," says Carlos with a shrug. "What did you have in mind?"

‣‣‣

Jay comes up behind Evie in the bathroom that night, wrapping his arms around her and gently tracing the exposed skin of her belly.

"You look good," he murmurs into a kiss against her neck. "I'm kinda jealous." He grins, catching her gaze in the mirror. "I want one, too..."

AU Ask Game

[daintyduck99]

you caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out + the bobby/luke/julie/reggie OT4 because only one of them has the brain cell at any given time (and sometimes none of them do)

Julie doesn’t know what possesses her to do it. 

Is it cheap to blame her inner muse? The stifling heat? Insanity? All three? 

It’s certainly maddening, the way the perfect words stick to the roof of her mouth. They don’t even make it to the tip of her tongue, dangling just out of reach. Usually, when she’s stuck on a song, she goes to Luke, but she can’t go to any of her boys for this one. 

She has to do this herself. She wants to. 

It’s how she ends up with her feet on the windowsill as she reaches for the gutter, wondering how the hell Willie and Alex manage to go on all of those rooftop dates. It’s seeming less romantic by the second. She’s about to hop and see if she can establish a good hold when strong hands snare her waist, hauling her through the window and into Bobby’s arms. 

He crushes her to his chest. His heart pounds like a fist, a series of blows that land right on her ribcage, and she aches with remorse before he even opens his mouth. 

“Jesus, Julie, what the fuck were you doing? Tell me you weren’t about to jump—” 

“No!” She buries her face in his chest. “I was—I wanted to climb onto the roof.” 

There’s a beat of incredulous silence, followed by a flat, “What.” 

Thunderous footfall announces the arrival of Luke and Reggie, and their arms are quick to wind around them, too. Reggie rests his chin on top of her head. 

“What happened, are you guys okay?” 

Bobby sighs as they all unravel from one another. He slams the window shut. 

Luke and Reggie look at her expectantly. Julie bites her lip. 

“I was trying to climb onto the roof. I know it was stupid! I’m working on a song, but I got stuck, and it’s a surprise, so I thought—if I could just sneak up there and take advantage of the view, get a new perspective, maybe I’d finally be able to get the right words out.” 

Bobby jerks his head at Luke. “I’d expect that kind of dumb stunt from him—” 

“Hey!” Luke squawks, only to throw his hands up as Bobby glares. “Alright, yeah. But I would’ve roped you guys into it. Or like, I would’ve called Willie and asked him how to do it. Or—” 

“That’s not—” Bobby pinches the bridge of his nose. “Julie, you could have died. No song is worth your goddamn life, okay? I’m gonna have gray hair from tonight as it is.” 

She screws her eyes shut in an attempt to staunch her tears. “I’m sorry. I should have walked away from it for a bit instead of letting it drive me crazy. I wasn’t thinking, you guys, I’m so sorry.” 

She’s folded into another set of arms, wrapped in the familiar scents of leather and hair gel. Reggie makes soothing sounds as she sobs, and she clings to him as he rubs her back. 

“Sweetheart, don’t beat yourself up over it. Just promise you won’t do that again. If you want to see the stars, we’ll take you camping, or to a planetarium. You wouldn’t even have to say it was for a song. We’d do it because we love you, Julie.” 

Julie exhales shakily, although she manages to smile as he wipes the last of her tears away. 

“I love you, too. I’ll have to take you all up on that star-gazing date. Because I’m done trying to climb onto roofs, I swear. Your idea sounds way more romantic.”

Reggie presses a sweet kiss to her lips. “Say when and where, Jules, and we’ll take you there.” 

“I vote we go camping,” Luke says excitedly, draping himself over her back. He smacks a kiss to the crown of her head, making her giggle. “I’ve written some of my best songs during camping trips, it’s great for inspiration. Plus, it’s just fun.” 

She tips her head back for another kiss. “One of these great camping-inspired songs wouldn’t happen to be Lakeside Reflection, would it?” 

Bobby snorts, accepting a brief kiss from her as he slips into the huddle. “What gave it away?” 

“It wasn’t a secret!” Luke pinches Bobby’s ear. “It’s an aptly named song!”

She shares a look with Reggie as Luke and Bobby bicker, shaking her head with a grin. 

There’s poetry in the way they cluster around her like a constellation, and it was foolish of her to think she could ever capture it without being surrounded by her stars.

[theoreticalconstruct]

Comfort (FFVII, Barret/Dyne, SFW)

Title: Comfort Fandom: FFVII Characters: Barret/Dyne Summary: Barret thinking back to comforting Dyne when they were young adults, after Dyne lost his father. Notes: SFW, first kiss. For @romancingbarret day 4, Hurt/Comfort. Sort of a prequel to my Day 3 OT4 fic.

--

Barret remembered the morning after Dyne's father died.

The old man... they'd all thought he'd make it. He'd dragged his way out of the mine after that explosion, so surely he'd survive whatever came after, right? But no - he'd been laughing and joking around with the nurses and his family before he'd gone to sleep, but then they'd checked on him the next morning to find he'd never woken up.

Dyne wasn't taking it too well. Barret wasn't surprised; his mother had left the village when he was young, leaving her son behind, and so Dyne had taken it upon himself to take care of his old man. Being without him... it had to be hard. He'd found him sitting alone on the edges of town, out of sight behind some rocks, and had joined him there. At least they'd have some privacy, he thought. Long as they didn't talk too loud.

"Hey, Barret," Dyne asked after a long moment of sitting in silence.

"Yeah?"

"You think he's in a better place?"

Barret remembered sighing. He hadn't known much about the study of the Planet back then, or the Lifestream, or anything else. He'd barely been a man, trying to navigate in a strange new world, and he'd said the best thing he'd known to say without lying. "I think," he said, "that he was a good man. And I think he'll get all the happiness he deserved."

"I hope so," Dyne said, looking up at him. He'd been crying for so long, dark eyes puffy and swollen. "I really do. I still just don't know. This town, it sucked him dry, but I know he was happy here too. I know he had his friends, he had us... but what was it for? Just to keep the lights burning a little bit longer?"

He still wished he'd had an answer for him. Maybe if he'd said something then, he wouldn't have lost hope so completely later, when he'd thought everyone was lost... maybe things wouldn't have ended the way they had -

No. That was ridiculous, he told himself. He'd done the best he could, and the things that had pushed Dyne too far hadn't had anything to do with that moment. But at the time Barret had been young and unsure and hadn't had all the words he had now. All he'd had was a lot of love, and he hadn't known what else he could do but show him.

They'd always played around a lot, and hugs and such weren't all that unusual back then; they didn't have a lot of TV broadcasts telling them that men weren't supposed to show emotion. But kissing him like that, the way he remembered Ma and Pa kissing, that was new. He'd remembered it had been shortly after they'd started calling him a man, after he'd come of age, and he figured he ought to show the kind of love he felt now that he was an adult. Besides, Dyne hadn't seemed all that shocked. If anything it seemed like he'd just been waiting.

They'd kissed for a while in the mountains, and hadn't done much more than that, not then. Neither of them had really known how it worked, with ladies or with other men. And Barret, well, he'd figured they had time. He hadn't been trying to do anything but get Dyne to stop thinking about all the bad stuff that had happened, to give him a bit of comfort.

He didn't remember how long they spent out there, just trying to rest from the night they'd been through, trying to stay as close to each other as they could. He remembered Dyne looking back up at him after a while - even then Barret had been bigger and taller, though he still couldn't beat Dyne in a proper arm-wrestling match and he had no idea why. Dyne's face had been scraped red from all of his stubble; Barret hadn't shaved for a few days with all of the excitement, and he remembered feeling bad about it.

Dyne hadn't quite been smiling. But at least he'd looked... more peaceful. "Hey," he'd said. "Tomorrow night, can you help me go through Dad's stuff? I don't... I don't think I can do it tonight, but I can't leave Gramps and Auntie to do it all."

"Of course," Barret had said, sitting there a while longer, arms wrapped around him. He'd planned to do it anyway.

That had been their first kiss. Not the best circumstance for it, Barret knew, but he'd been young - he'd thought he was a man back then, but he hadn't really known much of anything except for how he'd felt. Maybe back then it had been enough. He hoped so; he'd thought about it so much, and even today, he didn't know what he could've done different back then.

If only it had all ended better. If only he’d kept doing the right things.