#making art has been a really great escapism for me

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

It was another competion the entire family all shoving and pushing each other into the car to see more of Damian's art.

Tim is excited for Damian.

He knows what it's like, to stand there and have no one show up. To be there all by yourself for hours the only one to visit your booth being the art teacher.

Ms. Carrington who would ask questions and ignore the tears that pooled in his eyes before helping him pack everything up, sometimes even driving him home because of course neither his parents or Bruce could be bothered to pick him up.

He can't really help the envy that he can feel building in his chest mixing with a good chunk of repressed anger.

A elbow being jabbed into his ribs distracts him.

"Hey what's with the face? Perk up Boy-Loser it's Damian's night."

He turns to Steph the smile that he had been attempting to plaster on falling. It's such a stupid thing it's a nickname so what if it's demeaning, he gets called pretender or replacement by Jason what does it matter.

"Do you ever think it's kinda fucked up that not a single person in this family calls me anything that isn't an insult?" He snaps.

She looks shocked. How fucking dare he have an ounce of self esteem. Someone alert the Media Tim Drake isn't a dormat.

He turns away sliding into the crowd.

There's less then half an hour left before he can leave. Pratically throwing himself down in the empty hallway as far as he can get from this entire night.

"Baby bird and Timmy aren't insults? Or are they I can't seem to keep up with the kids these days."

He turns, of course. You might be able to run from Batman or lie to him, but you can never escape the grasp of Big Brother Nightwing.

"So your admitting that your old?" he joins the banter.

His muscles start to unclench another superpower only Dick Grayson seems to have.

"Never, something you want to talk about?"

Does he? No. Should he? Yah.

"Maybe I just don't want be insulted every day of my life. So weird who doesn't want to be reminded they suck?"

He can hear the whine, he can also hear that everything he just said isn't gonna matter. You don't take whiny little boys seriously. And that's what he is.

"Hmm you know I get called Dickhead or really a lot of just penis related jokes. Always hated them not that it really stops anyone."

He looks finally making eye contact with his big brother. Because he's right. How many times has he heard anyone in the family other than him and Damian call Dick anything nice. Never not once. Maybe Bruce but he can't really picture it.

"Also don't think I didn't notice how annoyed you are with Bruce about this entire night, which I don't blame you for. You know I love Damian kiddo, but yah Bruce is not winning a mug from me or you."

He doesn't really want to acknowledge any of that already exhausted and he will have to apologize to Steph and if he opens the box it will be a car ride from hell home.

"Luckily for you I have a car parked a block up we can escape get ice cream and have a nice sleepover in bludhaven."

He wants to so bad, he wants to throw himself at Dick who knows him so well, who followed him out here, who isn't blinking, the only adult who has ever not somehow fucked him over.

"What about Damian? He will be pissed at me for stealing you or something. He doesn't need another reason to stab me."

He turns to look back at the floor.

"Foolish Drake I will be coming with you Father is being insesently annoying and I much rather talk about art with someone who has a brain cell."

Both him and Dick whip around to see Damian standing there a slight blush on his face hesitation making the corner of mouth twitch. He sees Dick looking on unsure. He doesn't hesitate.

"Thank god I know a great place with that Vegan Cookie Dough you like. What you waiting for Big Bird? Let's go. "

Climbling to his feet he grabs Dick and Damian dragging them to the exit he hears Dick's confused muttering sharing a secret smile with Damian before ignoring it.

The night is finally looking up.

[cabbi3]

i really miss drawing and being silly thinking about my blorbos

[benevolenterrancy]

May your hardened heart be woken By the soft and distant song Of all you left here unspoken All the shards we keep stepping on - Take this body home Take this body home Call the wind, and let her know Take this life outgrown Take this broken soul Call the stars, call them all And take it high, take it far, take it home

[snowballseal]

Insecurities - Rafayel

Summary: Here is the portion of Rafayel reacting to your insecurities. And you best know this man goes big to prove a point. Much fluff.

Here is the original with the other LADS boys

Word Count: 1831

Notes: Reader has insecurities about they way they look, so just keep in mind. It ends fluffy and happy though.

---

“Rafayel, do I look okay?”

The artist immediately drops whatever he was doing, twisting around to peer over the back of the couch as you step into the studio.

His iridescent eyes scan over your figure, his voice lilting with teasing affection, “I’m not sure I even want to go if this is what you’re wearing. I think everyone would think you’re the art and ignore my hard work.”

You wrinkle your nose. Partially because he’s being ridiculous. Partially because you don’t really believe him. The dress is gorgeous of course, he did a great job of helping you pick one out, but it doesn’t change the way you’ve been feeling for the past few days.

Before you met Rafayel, you never paid much attention to how you looked. Not in a bad way, you kept yourself neat and dressed up whenever you went out for special occasions, but it was never on your mind much. But now…You don’t know. It’s not Rafayel’s fault, the man has never been shy in complimenting you, but you can’t help but notice the type of women that like to approach him. All gorgeous enough to be models, with the confidence to match - seeing as they always have to gall to flirt with him even when you’re holding hands.

And you wish it didn’t get to you. It shouldn’t. Rafayel doesn’t even bat an eyelash at them, always focusing on you or making more obvious shows of affection to chase them away. Still, the more it happens, the more you find yourself caring about how you look, or not liking the way you look. 

And wearing a lovely dress only seems to highlight your self-perceived flaws.

“Do you really think it looks okay?” You ask again, fiddling with the satin self-consciously. 

Rafayel’s brow furrows a little. He tilts his head, looking almost like a confused puppy, “What is it? Do you not like the dress? Do you not want to go anymore? Please don’t make me go alone. These galleries are sooo boring without you, I hate them.”

“They’re your galleries,” you point out, shaking your head with a small smile, “How can you hate them so much? It’s your work, they deserve to be celebrated.”

“Why go stare at my own work when I can spend the night staring at you?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks. Usually you’d have a witty comeback to his flirting, but you can’t find anything tonight, not with how you’re feeling. So you just ruffle his hair fondly, avoiding the intense affection in his gaze.

“Come on, Thomas will be mad if we don’t show up. We need to go.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow. Before you can pull away, he grabs your wrist, keeping you anchored to where you are. Your heart jumps to your throat at the serious expression he suddenly gives you.

“What’s wrong? You’re acting strange.” 

Being an artist, Rafayel knows you, your face, your body, better than anyone. He’s always looking at you, holding on to every new detail he finds. Like the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How the tip of your nose turns rosy when you’re even a little cold. Or how your lips twitch before you lie. Like they are now.

“I’m fine, Raffie, just…tired,” you sigh, tugging against his hold, still trying to avoid him, “Now come on, we should go.”

“Hmmmmm…no.”

You squeak as Rafayel unexpectedly gives your wrist a sharp pull. The momentum sends you tumbling over the back of the couch, right into his lap, and before you can escape, he has you wrapped in his arms. Stuck.

“Rafayel-! Let go of me,” you growl, squirming around hopelessly. The man is surprisingly strong, and with your feet still tossed over the back of the couch, you can’t get enough leverage to escape.

“Nope, not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he hums, arms tightening around your waist.

You huff and give him a solid glare, “This isn’t funny, Rafayel.”

“And neither is hiding something that’s obviously bothering you,” he snips back softly, “You’re a horrible liar, miss bodyguard.”

“I just…” You cross your arms, face feeling warmer and warmer the longer he stares at you. Why does he have to be so stubborn at times like this? “I haven’t been feeling good about myself lately, okay? That’s it, now can we go?”

“Nope.” You resist the urge to groan.

“Thomas is going to throw a fit-”

“He can handle it tonight, I’ll give him a bonus. What’s more important is fixing this.” Rafayel props his chin on your shoulder, a contemplative frown pulling at his lips. “It’ll have to be something creative, which I’m great at, of course. But what?”

“Rafayel, this really isn’t necessary,” you grumble, “I don’t think it’s something you can fix.”

The artist shakes his head, pressing a faint kiss to your shoulder, “I think you underestimate me, cutie. But that’s okay, I think I know exactly what to do.”

Lifting you up, Rafayel sets you back on the couch gingerly and darts off after giving you instructions to not move. A heavy sigh passes your lips as you fix your dress, though it seems a bit pointless now. It doesn’t sound like you’ll be going to the gallery.

A part of you is secretly relieved at that. You love looking at Rafayel’s work, but since it’s his gallery, all the attention would be on him, and, consequently, you as well. It’s a bit suffocating. Still, you’re a little wary of whatever plan he has concocted. Rafayel is as unpredictable as he is talented.

Time seems to tick by slowly as you sit on the couch. You eye the clock, noting each minute as it passes by. Your nerves only continue to rise the longer you’re alone. What on earth is he doing?

On the tenth minute, Rafayel reappears, a mischievous spark in his eyes. He offers you a hand.

“The gallery is ready for you to attend, cutie.”

This time, your eyes narrow, though you still take his hand, allowing him to help you up. “I thought you said we weren’t going?”

“Oh, this is a different kind of gallery,” he hums, looking quite proud of himself, “I think you’ll enjoy this one a lot more. And I’ll be your personal tour guide.”

“How kind,” you muse, fighting your own smile. You might as well humor him, even if it doesn’t help. As long as Rafayel is happy, you can count the night as some kind of success.

Rafayel leads you to one of the spare rooms of the studios. You vaguely remember him telling you at some point that it’s a room he likes to keep his sketchbooks and unfinished projects in. You cast him a curious glance, but his eyes are set ahead as he touches the door, that smile still painted across his lips.

“These works are some of the most important that I’ve ever done, and you’ll be the first to see them. My heart rests in your hands tonight, so be careful, otherwise you might mortally wound me and I’ll never have the courage to paint again.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, about to make a sassy remark, but the words get lost when he presses the door open. Your eyes go wide at the sight before you.

The room is lit by candles, flickering with the flames of his evol. Their light dances across countless artworks spread across the room, hanging on every surface, each one depicting the same subject.

You.

Most of them are sketches, their strokes simple and spontaneous but laden with care, like he had wanted to capture a precious moment for himself. There’s one of you dozing off on the couch, another of you dancing in the kitchen. There’s even one of you holding a stuffy, from one of your many trips to the arcade.

The further you walk into the room, the more detailed the pieces become. 

A charcoal drawing of you in your uniform, gun drawn on something off page. The lines of your body are like water, fluid and graceful, the look in your eyes somehow burning with a fierce determination.

An oil painting of the night you spent at the market. Your image is looking at a sparkler, the light reflected in your eyes like stars, your cheeks painted a soft rosy color that seems to glow. It’s impossibly delicate, each stroke placed with such intention, it’s almost like you’re there again.

The final painting you come to make your face go warm again. It’s of you, curled up under a familiar set of sheets, mostly focused on your face. Your hair pools against the pillow, messy yet somehow charming in its unruliness. The morning sunlight dapples across your skin, highlighting the soft color of your lips and the gentle curve of your smile. But it’s your eyes that really make your breath catch. You can practically see the sleepy fog in them, like you had just woken, but also the undeniable warmth. The love.

It’s…beautiful. They’re all beautiful. And they’re all you.

“This is…” You swallow around the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling off-kilter. “I can’t believe you did all of these.”

Rafayel, who had been following behind you silently, hums softly and curls his arms around your waist. You lean back into his touch, letting it ground you and your swirling emotions.

“It’s been difficult even focusing on my work for the gallery. Everything else seems to pale in comparison when I have such a beautiful muse in front of me all the time,” he murmurs the words against your temple, voice quiet to match the atmosphere of the room. “I could devote lifetimes to painting you and never grow tired of it.”

You bite back a bashful smile, unable to resist the urge to tease him a little, “I didn’t realize I was so distracting.”

“Just ask Thomas. I think this is the most he’s ever had to remind me to finish my work,” Rafayel chuckles, giving your waist a squeeze. “But it was worth the missed deadlines. Afterall, isn’t it my responsibility as your employer and lover to make sure you understand how much I cherish you?”

Your heart flutters wildly as the brazen affection in his tone. It seems to melt away your doubts, replacing them with an overwhelming feeling of fondness for your artist. Only Rafayel would do something like this for you, how could you deny it?

Turning around in his hold, you lean up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek, which you notice is an absolutely rosy shade of red. It makes you feel even more fond. You really really love this man.

“Thank you, my pretty fish. I feel much better now.”

That dazzling smile lights up his face again, and he leans down to scatter kisses all over your face, whispering between your bouts of giggles, “Anything for you, my queen.”

---

All the smooches. I love this man. I will die on the hill of using the nickname "fish" or "fishie" with him, I think it's soooo cute.

[artdcnaldson]

ARARARRARARARRARA

HIS RACKET

stop. ✋. i am unable to control and contain myself. i need mean mean mean art to fuck pats sister with his racket after losing a match because she was distracting him. she was constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs, short short skirt, flashing him her pretty panties. need him to taunt her and tell her how his racket barely fits in her tiny little virgin pussy :(((( but stuff her full of it anyway :((((( he really is doing anything to keep himself from putting his cock in her :(((( i need him i feel sick and horny. it's now his favorite racket and his lucky charm i'm dying

-🐞

RAHHHHHHHHH

Like god. Just thinking of you showing up to one of his matches in a little denim miniskirt and one of his Stanford tennis shirts you stole <3 you look so sweet, you cheer the loudest every time he manages to get a point.

He usually wouldn’t be able to see you very well from down on the court, but, god, you’re front row and he can see the flash of white panties beneath your skirt, the bounce of your tits when you excitedly cheer. And maybe you were earnestly cheering for him, you didn’t even realize what you were doing, but that brainless look you give him when he confronts you after the match just frustrates him even more.

“I’m sorry you lost, Art,” you say as you follow him inside his dorm like a lost puppy. The fact that he didn’t stop you was exciting, like maybe he as going to break finally, that he saw how much you cared. “But you looked so great out there. You should’ve won. I think the line judges totally fucked you ov—“

He has you pinned against the door and you go quiet. “I would’ve won,” he says firmly. “If you hadn’t been flashing your panties like a fucking groupie.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh… I didn’t mean to.” Which was a lie. Of course it fucking was.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes you fucking did. You’d do anything if it meant you’d have something filling your pussy.”

Something flashes in your eyes. Excitement? Shock?

His hand moves between your thighs, feeling the damp spot on your panties. “How long have you been wet?”

A shaky breath escapes you as his fingers press against the seam of your pussy, avoiding your clit with each pass. “Art—“ you whine, embarrassment dripping from your tone.

Why should you be embarrassed, though? You were the one slutting yourself out for his attention, weren’t you? Flashing your panties, throwing yourself at him at any chance. He’d done much worse to you, touched you in ways that were unforgivable. At least, they would be to Patrick.

It’s infuriating, that you have the audacity to act like some demure fucking virgin. Like you haven’t fucked yourself on his bed, haven’t gotten off to him degrading you and cumming down your throat.

But you don’t even have to answer. He knows that you’ve been soaked since the second you sat down in the stands, that your little body has been absolutely thrumming with need and want. That you’d dressed that way with the intentions of getting him so riled up he’d need to take it out on you.

And he would. He’d give you something to stuff you full, keep you satisfied.

“Lay down,” he says, and you obey so easily. You settle on top of his bed, chest heaving with anticipation. He slips your panties down your legs, he can practically smell your need. He wants to just bury his face between your thighs, lick at your core until your taste is all he knows. Make you cum again and again and again until your clit feels numb and you beg for him to stop. “You want me to fill you up, hm?”

You nod, irises practically swallowed by your lust-blown pupils. “Mhmm. Please, Art.”

A smile spreads across his lips. “Yeah? And you’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?”

You nod, almost frantic. “Yes, anything.”

He wants to save the image of your expression in his memory forever. Your wide eyes, the way your teeth dig into your bottom lip. As he grabs a racket from his bag. It’s new, the handle freshly wrapped. You let out a soft noise, involuntary as you look at it. “Art—“

He tosses the racket a few times in his hand. “I thought you said anything?”

You make a face. “I don’t think it’ll fit. I’m a v—“

“A virgin,” he finishes for you, dripping condescension. “Sure, but I know your fingers aren’t cutting it when you fuck yourself. What do you use, huh? Did you and your little friends buy pink sparkly dildos at the mall?”

Your face burns and you look away. It’s too specific of a description, and you know he knows. That he’d snooped one of the times that he had to carry you back to your dorm and found your stash of toys and the fucking spank bank under your bed. Which was mortifying in and of itself— you had fucking clip outs of him from the campus newspaper and posters of the Men’s tennis team in there. You hated that he knew just how obsessed you were with him.

“It’ll fit,” he says. “I’ll even warm you up first. I’ll give you my fingers. I’m not that mean.”

Your tongue darts out, wets those pretty lips of yours. And you nod.

His finger slides in so easily that he almost moans. You’re so warm, so tight around him, slick and obscenely wet. One finger and you’re reduced to mewls and whines. Little pants of yes, so good, thank you, art art art.

Your body accommodates him so easy, opening up like a flower for him. A second finger plunges inside your cunt and your juices drip down his fingers, down your ass. You’re wetter than anyone he’s been with before. It’s not just that you’re a virgin— he’d fucked virgins before— it’s that you’re so fucking obsessed with him.

“You really are tight,” his voice comes out a little shaky, affected. How could it not when he has three fingers knuckle deep in your sweet, virgin pussy? When your walls clench and flutter around the intrusion, when you get wetter and wetter so his fingers squelch with each thrust in? “I don’t know if it’ll fit. But we’re gonna try, aren’t we?”

Yes, Yes, Yes. The response falls from your lips like prayer, like worship.

He waits until you’re all pliant and relaxed beneath him, moaning prettily. When your pussy feels supple and opens like it needs to take more. He grabs the racket and he almost backs out, almost stops himself, but you look at him with hunger and want. You need to impress him so badly— to accept whatever he gives him.

There’s a first time for everything. He tries his best to slick up the handle with lube, not that you’re lacking in that department. He watches your cunt pulse, your hole clenching as he practically jacks off the tennis racket. Oh, you want it so bad.

“Hold your legs up,” he instructs. You’re chewing on your lip as you do, tucking your hands beneath your knees, leaving your cunt exposed and glistening in the shitty light of his dorm room. “Relax. You wanted it, so lay there and take it.”

He presses the handle against your cunt, listens to the slightest intake of breath as it breaches your tight entrance, as your body stretches to accommodate it. It’s a stretch, god, it’s obscene. Your tiny little pussy wrapped around the handle like it’s a dick.

“Ah, f-fuck—“ You’re whimpering, crying for it, little feet kicking as he presses it in deeper. “Big— it’s big.”

He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, and you’ve pushed that limit many times before. He’s fantasized about it before, the idea of it. Of some faceless, nameless woman lying all spread out beneath him, crying out with pornstar moans while he fucks her with the handle of his racket after a game.

He blamed Patrick for that one. For planting that seed.

But now he has you. Lying beneath him with your face screwed up in pleasure, your mouth ajar as he pushes it deeper, deeper, deeper. “Tell me how it feels,” he goads once it’s fully sheathed inside of you.

It takes a moment for the question to register— he sees it in the lazy blink in your eyes, how they’re glassy when they meet his.

“Mmm… so— so full,” you moan. Your expression is akin to disappointment as he slowly withdraws the racket, only to push it back in. Your eyes roll back, toes curl and flex.

“You don’t feel gross? No shame at all?” He asks.

You should. You definitely should, but right then you can’t find it in yourself to. You shake your head. “I just— nghh— just want whatever you give me.”

God. You shouldn’t tell him that, shouldn’t willingly hand over that much power. His head swims with it.

“No fucking self respect” he mutters. “Jesus Christ. Such a fucking slut.”

But that just encourages you. “Just your slut, Art, all yours.”

God, you’re so fucking wet, dripping down to your asshole, down onto the sheets. He figures he could make you squirt, that you’d let him play with your pussy until you gushed like a fountain. He could probably do anything he wanted and you’d take it with a smile.

“You need t’ cum?”

You nod quickly, moaning. “Fuck— yeah, so bad, Art, so fucking bad.” Your cunt squeezes around the handle of the racket, like your body is trying to suck it deeper. “Touch me— touch me, I need—“

He knows what you need. And he shouldn’t. But what the fuck is he holding back for at this point? He moves his free hand to your clit, rubs in firm circles as he shallowly thrusts the racket.

The cries that escape you are like music to him, so delicious, so fucking debauched. Your feet kick pathetically, your back arches off the bed. It’s almost adorable.

“You have ten seconds before I stop,” he warns. You cry weakly, grind your hips up against the handle as he fucks you with it. He counts aloud, watches the way your breath heaves as you get closer. He can practically feel your racing heartbeat in your clit.

“C-cumming, cumming—“ you whine. He’s at two— your body is right on the edge, you want it so bad.

“Come on, give it to me,” his voice is low, rough with need. He meets your gaze, and he grins at how wrecked you are, how pathetic he can make you.

You cum just like that, leave a ring of cream at the top of the handle as he fucks you through it. He reduces you into weak moans, makes you go limp beneath him.

When he eases the handle out, he marvels at the sight of your pussy, smeared with arousal, swollen and open for him. He rubs his thumb against your clit and he watches your hole twitch for him, still wanting anything you can give.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. He should have taken a picture.

[6esiree]

Gen Z Things With The Hazbin Women

WOO, I finally did something with the women! Just like last time, all of these quotes were taken from Instagram 😭

Charlie:

The Hell-Quake

“Imagine all the titties that were bouncing during the Hell-quake earlier?” You say, slowly turning to Charlie, your face at level with her chest.

“I, uh—what?” Charlie stutters, a blush creeping up her neck.

“Including yours,” You unashamedly add, laughing as she clamps a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my goodness, you’re so embarrassing,” Charlie says, but she drags you away to your shared room anyway, charmed.

Vaggie:

Got a Girlfriend?

“You got a girlfriend, Vagina?” You approach Vaggie, who’s been sitting by herself at the bar for a while already.

“Uhh, it’s Vaggie,” She blinks, confused over your question. “And no…”

“Well, you do now,” You say, snatching her hand without hesitation. “Get your ass up and hold my hand.”

“What happened to hello, how are you?” Vaggie squeaks as you drag her off the stool, but she isn’t complaining, either.

Niffty:

The Breakup

“How did you get dumped?” Niffty asks you, patting your cheeks dry with a tissue, but she’s struggling with all the moving you’re doing. “And why are you laughing while you’re crying?”

“I’m sorry, but he bought me the shoes I wanted then told me to walk out of his life,” You sniffle, another bout of laughter coming over you.

“Wait, that is kind of funny,” Niffty says, retracting the tissue from your face before the corners of her lips starts to twitch upwards.

Alastor was looking for Niffty, but as you both laugh like maniacs on the couch in the parlor, your face red and puffy from the tears, he slowly backs away.

Cherri:

Late-Night Texting

“U always smiling,” You text Cherri, a smile growing on her face as she reads it from her notifications. “U be making me smile and shit.”

“Aww, I’m glad,” Cherri texts back, trying to think of something sweet to add, her fingers typing away.

“Ima fuck the shit outta u tho,” That makes Cherri erase her text, rolling her eye with a huff.

“Alright, goodnight.”

Rosie:

A Love Poem

“Oh, isn’t that just lovely?” Rosie hums, taking a sip of her tea as she watches a cannibal recite poetry to their lover.

“You like poetry?” You ask her, and she nods, basically granting you an opportunity to fuck with her. “Here, I got a little something for you.”

“Sugar is sweet,

lemons are sour.

Spread thy legs,

and give me an hour.”

Rosie starts choking on her tea, never anticipating that you’d say something so crude. When she notices the smug look on your face, however, she grabs your chin and leans over the table, smiling at you with those razor-sharp teeth of hers.

“Oh, darling, just a measly little hour?” She says, her lips a few centimeters away from yours. “We’re going to need more time than that.”

“Hey, wait a minute, I was just joking,” You squeak, but it’s too late. She tosses you over her shoulder and leaves the room with you. “Rosie!”

Lute:

Beauty Comes From The Inside

“I would call you beautiful, but they say that beauty comes from the inside,” You pant, trying to find a way to escape Lute, who has you pinned to the ground.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lute says, annoyed, thinking that you were trying to insult her. “Ugh, never mind—do you yield or not?”

“Hey, you didn’t let me finish!” You say, smiling wickedly at her. “I can’t call you beautiful because I haven’t been inside of you yet.”

“Training is over,” Lute quickly says, relinquishing you and flying away before you can see the blush on her face.

Emily:

You’re Fine Art

“I don’t really interact with winners all that much,” Emily confesses, fidgeting as she sits next to you. The two of you just started dating. “So, I’m sorry if what I say or do isn’t all that great, romantic-wise.”

“That’s okay, I’m not any better,” You shrug. “I mean, I come from a generation that says the freakiest shit to their partners.”

“Oh? Like what, exactly?” Emily asks, leaning in, curious to know. When you ask her if she’s sure, she eagerly nods.

“I know we’re not supposed to touch fine art,” You start, slightly leaning in and grabbing Emily’s chin, her breath hitching at the action. “But someone’s gotta pin you up against the wall and nail you, right?”

“That is…wow,” Emily stutters, her eyes nervously darting to the side as you wink at her, a wonky smile on her face. “Wow.”

Velvette:

Wise Words From A Young Person

“Life is like a weiner, sometimes it gets hard for no reason,” You say between sips of your morning coffee, trying to comfort Velvette, who was complaining about something that happened. “But it won’t stay hard forever.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Vox coughs, setting down his toast, while Valentino chuckles away next to him.

“Okay, why did we agree to let them in our group again?” Velvette asks, scooting away from you.

Carmilla:

The Passport

“Uhh, why are you handing me this?” Carmilla asks you, her eyes darting between you and the passport in your hand.

“You must understand, I just really love Latinas,” You say, shaking the passport, asking her to accept it. “Come on, you gotta let me in!”

“This is why you called this meeting?” Carmilla sighs, rubbing her temples.

“Just one date, that’s all I’m asking of you,” You say, but she shuts the door on your face before you can add anything else.

Sera:

Uppies, Please!

“Look, I’m not trying to, uh, offend you or anything,” Adam starts, scratching the back of his head. “But do you ever get annoyed by how freakishly tall Sera is?”

“Oh, I love me a tall woman,” You say, leaning onto the table and perching your chin on top your palm. “My favorite thing to do is look up at her and, like, do this,” You lift your arms up, making grabbing motions with your hands, “And say, ‘Uppies please!’”

“Does she actually pick you up?” Adam blinks, unable to imagine Sera doing such a childish thing.

“Who is this ‘she’ you two are discussing?” Sera asks as she steps into the room.

“Uppies, please!” You say, and with a practiced motion, Sera picks you up. She’s horrified because her body moved without thinking.

“Holy shit! I’m using this as blackmail,” Adam stupidly announces, taking a picture before Sera can put you down.

She throttles him before he leaves the room, however, a squeaky rubber duck-like noise escaping his throat.

[nottsangel]

Art being pouty because actress reader has to do a sex scene with the co-star so naturaly you have to blow him in the trailer.

“no baby, i’m not jealous, i promise! i mean, it’s your job and… i get that. i really do” “you’re a really bad liar you know that?” art laughs awkwardly, unwilling to admit that he is indeed jealous, feeling childish while you’re simply doing your job— but he also isn’t great at hiding it, as he’s been sulking and pouting ever since he arrived at your trailer.

“just… let me show you that i only want you, okay?” “what do you—“ art raises an eyebrow in confusion, unsure what you’re insinuating, until you slowly drop down to your knees while maintaining eye contact with his pretty blue eyes.

“oh!” he chuckles when he realises what you’re getting at as you slowly unbuckle his belt, his boner growing gradually harder in his pants. you pull both his pants and boxers down until it pools around his ankles, his cock springing free against his shirt. you lick your lips at the sight of precum leaking from the tip, making you unable to wait as you wrap your mouth around him without any warning.

“oh— oh my god, baby” art moans at the sudden feeling, throwing his head back as his hand instinctively reaches for your hair, gently tugging on it. you swiftly swirl your tongue over his swollen tip, tasting the salty precum before you push your head down until you feel him against the back of your throat, eliciting hitched breaths from art’s lips.

“feels so— fuck, feels so good, just like that. oh my god, please, baby” he babbles erratically, his thoughts hazy as you move your head up and down in his cock, his release nearing already as you increase your pace. your hand trails from his thigh to his balls, massaging them firmly, which pushes him over the edge instantly, his warmth spilling into your mouth as a string of curses and praise escapes his lips.

you lean back, panting as you rest on your knees and gaze up at him. he looks back down at you with half-closed eyes and a lazy smile on his flushed face before you swallow it all, causing him to groan at the sight. “you’re so perfect, you know that?”

lost in the moment, locked in each other's gaze, you startle as loud knocks echo through the cramped trailer. “5 more minutes!” “uhm— yeah, okay, i’m coming!”

ੈ♡˳

[wave2tyun]

cherry wine | ☆

pairing: taehyun x reader

genre: college!au, chef!tyun, fluff, suggestive (it gets steamy towards the end?!)

prompts: - "i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now"

- "here- let me help you"

warnings: none<3

word count: 2.8k

a/n: special dedication to the anon who sent me an ask about this fic, hope you'll enjoy reading this again :D💓💞💘💖💓

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

there were many things that you were good that. cooking, however, was not one of them. when you first got one of your friends to come over and taste one of your dishes, they could barely hold back tears as they tried to chew the food and make it slide down their throat. knowing that you’re not a big fan of takeout, they could barely comprehend how you’ve managed to survive up until now.

the minute your uni opened up a cooking course held by the culinary arts students, your friend made sure that your name would be the first one to appear on that list- without telling you about it, of course. you had a big ego, and you most likely wouldn’t have accepted to sign up for the course yourself. therefore, so as not to risk anything, they only told you about the secret they’ve been keeping away from you one hour before the first class started.

‘stupid course’ you mumbled, putting on the apron that the chef’s assistant handed you. was it really necessary to wear it? you were thankful that at least there weren’t any other familiar faces in the room, otherwise you would have died of embarrassment. everybody else seemed to have, in one way or another, some sort of knowledge in the cooking field. meanwhile, you lacked the skills, and the blue apron you were dressed up in made you feel goofy. you glanced over at your watch: 11:02. if you were fast enough maybe there was still time for you to sneak out of there-

“good morning, everybody” a male voice was heard.

great. your one and only chance to escape slipped away from your hands. the course was officially starting, and there was no way you could back out now. you lifted your head, eyes searching for the source of the voice, and once your eyes landed on him- you couldn’t help but inhale sharply.

you were screwed.

the student that was assigned as the ‘head chef’ was cute- so much cuter than you thought. he was somehow the perfect combination of cute and hot: big shiny eyes that resembled two tapioca pearls, a soft smile that revealed his cat-like fangs, as well as broad shoulders and toned arms, which were exposed by his rolled up sleeves.

“i’m taehyun, a 3rd year culinary arts major” he introduced himself “i will be the one leading you throughout this course. thank you to everyone who has signed up, i hope you will find these lessons useful”

taehyun’s words were met with a round of applause from the other people in the room. he smiled brightly, clasping his hands together “without further ado- let’s get started. we’ll start of easy, with a basic soup recipe”

you glared at the vegetables in front of you. it seemed like your definition of easy didn’t exactly match his. making a sandwich was easy. cutting vegetables? absolutely not. you clumsily tried to follow along as taehyun demonstrated each step, paying close attention to not cut or stab your finger with the knife. these poor vegetables- your cutting board resembled a crime scene. you sighed, looking at the potatoes and carrots that you had yet to handle.

taehyun started roaming around the kitchen counters, making sure that everyone was carrying out the task well. you sensed him stopping right next to your place, and you resisted the urge to hide the mess you created with your hands. knowing that his eyes were on you, you were now feeling even more nervous than before. your hands were now starting to shake as you continued using the knife.

“can you give me your knife for a second?” taehyun asked, interrupting your actions.

 “s-sure” you stuttered, handing him the sharp object. taehyun moved closer to you, grabbing one of the carrots from the basket.

“when you cut these- make sure you get rid of the ends first” he spoke as his hands followed the instructions “this makes it a bit easier to hold the rest of the carrot. then- hold the knife straight, and push it down, separating it into smaller pieces” you watched as taehyun chopped up the rest of the carrot flawlessly, in probably less than 10 second “give it another go” he offered you the knife back, making you gulp.

you breathed in deeply, trying to calm yourself down as you reached out for your own carrot. however, your attempt was in vain. no matter how many times you tried, the pieces you were cutting ended up looking uneven. you could feel your cheeks burning intensely. “i’m so sorry-“ turning to look at taehyun in pity, you were expecting him to start laughing in your face, but you were only met with another one of his sweet smiles.

“you’re holding the knife at an angle. here- let me help you” taehyun walked behind you, his hands hovering right above yours “is this okay?” he spoke softly, waiting for your confirmation to go on.

you nodded, and taehyun took hold of your hands guiding them as he explained again “like this” he whispered, pressing down the knife gently. he was just correcting your mistakes- just doing his job, but god, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

“think you’ve got it now?” he chuckled.

you almost forgot to reply, too caught up in the moment “yeah- thank you”

“you’re welcome-“ taehyun sneaked a glance at your name tag “-y/n” the words rolled off his tongue softly.

taehyun removed his hands from you, going back to his place at the front to go on with the lesson. perhaps this course wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

the next time you had to attend the cooking course, you put in a little bit more effort in your appearance. for taehyun? maybe. only something subtle though. you did want it to be noticeable, just not too much. he wasn’t supposed to catch on to the fact that he was the cause of this.

the thought of doing mistakes didn’t seem as taunting anymore- not if it meant that taehyun would be the one helping you out again.

no matter how many times you were struggling, taehyun came over to you with a smile, fondness taking over his eyes as you furrowed your brows, paying close attention to his words.

one day, he called your name out at the end of the lesson- asking you to remain for a bit. you waited next to him as the class emptied, and taehyun shily pulled his phone out once it was just the two of you there “if you ever have questions or need help with anything- you can always text me”

and so you did. you used any excuse to talk to him, asking small questions like “how should i prepare this?” “what can i add to this?” “does this look right?” and taehyun seemed to reply with enthusiasm every time. you looked forward to seeing him every saturday at the course. any kind of stress created by college disappeared the moment you were in his warm presence, and felt his soft touch. you couldn’t help but sulk a little bit whenever he helped out other students, even though that was simply what he was supposed to do. maybe you just wanted to have all of his focus on you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

walking out after your last course of the day, you received a new message:

taehyun :)

[6:34 pm] are you free tonight? there’s something i want you to try

you typed in a quick reply, an almost immediate raise in heartbeat taking place at the thought of seeing him that evening.

you got back to your dorm as fast as possible to drop off your bag, as well as to get changed into something a tad bit more special than just some jeans and a hoodie.

once you reached taehyun’s door, you took a moment to rearrange the flyaway hairs and to make sure that your outfit looked in good condition. ringing up the doorbell, taehyun didn’t take long before opening the door, the smell of freshly-sprayed on cologne enveloping your senses, a breathless ‘hi’ escaping past both your lips at the exact same time.

the only source of light in taehyun’s apartment was the small candles sitting on the elegantly decorated dining table. it seemed like he had everything prepared, except for one single thing: the dish itself. all the ingredients were neatly prepared on the counter, as if waiting for your arrival. those were, indeed, taehyun’s intentions. he did have a special dish in mind that he wanted you to try, but the though of having you in his presence while preparing it just seemed to make his heart flutter a bit longer.

even though you were definitely not as skilled as taehyun when it came to cooking, you still offered to help him in any way you could, not wishing to simply sit around waiting to be served. for your first task, you were chopping some tomatoes for the pasta sauce. taehyun came up behind you, putting his hands on top of yours like he did during your first course with him.

“don’t worry- i know how to do this now” you said.

“really?” taehyun quirked an eyebrow, the tone of his voice both amusing yet also incredulous.

you hummed, proud of your small progress. taehyun didn’t separate himself from you “maybe i just want to stay close to you” he admitted, voice low as if he didn’t know whether it was right to confess his thoughts out loud.

“i wouldn’t mind that” you spoke quietly, letting out a confession of your own as well.

you could hear taehyun softly exhale in relief at your response. his warm chest came into contact with your back, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. it was intimate- way too intimate for those feelings of love to be clouding your heart only. his warm breath on your neck was starting to make you feel almost light-headed, to make you lose focus, and in a moment where your attention had completely dissipated into thin air, you almost let the knife cut your finger.

“are you okay? did you get hurt?” taehyun asked in worry. he brought your finger to his face upon closer inspection “it’s all good, don’t worry” you replied hurriedly, embarrassed by your lack of concentration at the task at hand “i just got lost in thought that’s all” you babbled on further. taehyun nodded as he started guiding you, holding your hand and the knife with slightly tighter grip than before to ensure that there wouldn’t be any more slip-ups “do it this way” he said.

“like this?” you repeated, trying it out yourself. you turned your head slightly to face him. there was a soft pink dusting taehyun’s cheeks.

“yeah, just like this” he answered back in a daze. you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes sneaked a glance at your lips. the thought too tempting and inviting- especially when he was holding you so close. but he had to wait- he couldn’t give in yet. the tension and lingering touches were consuming you whole as you continued to prepare the dish together.

the wine taehyun placed down the table seemed to be the perfect solution to loosen things up, to get rid of all the worries of your unspoken feelings.

“i bought this especially for tonight- it goes well with the dish” taehyun looked down as he smiled shily “i hope you’ll like it” he said as he poured each of you a glass of the sweet cherry wine.

“swirl it around first- then let the liquid touch your lips for a bit to get a small taste” he explained. taehyun already had an interest in alcohol, and the culinary arts programme had only expanded his knowledge in the field further. although it was necessary for him to learn- you found it attractive how he paid attention to even the smallest details.

the wine was more of a sweet kind than dry, intense- yet not overwhelming, and just as intoxicating as him. the pasta didn’t let down your expectations either. you had never tasted pasta with a sauce so creamy and full of flavour before, you couldn’t believe that you had assisted in the preparation and didn’t somehow ruin it.

“this tasted so good” you complimented him hurriedly between bites. taehyun couldn’t control his face at the sound of your words- a cocky grin taking over which he tried to hide subtly by having another sip of wine.

“only the best for you” he replied brazenly, reaching out his glass towards you. meeting him half-way, you clinked your glasses together, giggling at his words.

the wine glasses were filled right after another without a moment of waiting as you got through your dinner. and before you knew it, the expensive bottle was already sitting on the floor underneath the table, not a singular drop remaining in it. to you, taehyun’s eyes seemed to sparkle a bit more now, his smile at least ten times more endearing. and to taehyun? he could barely hold himself back from confessing out of the blue just so that he could finally give your lips a kiss

you clumsily gathered the dishes, bringing them over to the sink. you both agreed that washing them should be a problem for later, since you were quite (very) tipsy and didn’t want to risk flooding the apartment.

turning around after you placed the last plate in the sink, you were taken aback to see taehyun so close to you. he put his hands on the counter behind you, trapping you between it and his own body. his eyes were firmly placed on yours and you noticed how the blush on his cheeks had never disappeared. was it because of you? or just the alcohol?

his head fell on your shoulder, his hands were now on the small of your back as he tried to keep his balance.

“tae- is everything okay?” you asked worriedly. you didn’t know what his alcohol tolerance was, and you didn’t want him passing out on the floor in front of you.

taehyun hummed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his soft black hair tickled your skin, and you wished you could run your hands through it “can we just stay like this for a bit?” he mumbled.

you opened your mouth to speak, but taehyun interrupted you before you could do so “i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now” he lightly chuckled.

“you’re probably the cause of that...” you replied, the alcohol giving you the slight push to admit it. “is that so?” taehyun lifted his head up slightly, peering into your eyes “every time i get close to you- my heart beats just the same”

your face burned instantly, locking eyes with him for just one moment, before you noticed the way his travelled down to your lips once again. taehyun licked his lips before resting his forehead against yours. his warm breath tickled your lips, and your body trembled in anticipation for him to close the gap. pulling him in by softly grabbing the collar of his shirt, your lips captured taehyun’s in a tender kiss.

taehyun melted into your touch, letting out a small gasp once he promptly parted away from you, only to come back to taste you with even more passion than before. warmth consumed you, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together in a frenzy “your lips taste so sweet” taehyun breathed out “even sweeter than the cherry wine”. taehyun clumsily moved any leftover ingredients out of the way before lifting you up on the counter, his hands trailing underneath your shirt, touching your bare back as he continued to kiss you, the desire flowing through your veins was making it unable for you to stop. it made a chill run down your spine, and you parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. your fingers got lost through the strands of his hair, pulling at them slightly and emitting a deep hum from him; hot, passionate kisses sending a rush through your whole body as you tasted him. his lips were so soft- so warm, and so incredibly addictive.

in need of oxygen, you parted away for him for a moment, his glistening lips trailing back almost immediately.

“please- will you let me have another taste?”

[ghouldump]

Your fics are amazing! Enjoy all of them! Keep writing, and especially about iwtv 💖 and don’t delete it, it’s really great works :)

And can i request something about soulmates? Anything, really. It can be lestat x f!reader or lestat x f!reader x loius, i like everything! thank you 🥹

The Night Is Ours | Rockstar!Lestat x Reader

ෆ being awakened, naturally you go to your old love, only to find that he is now a rockstar, perhaps now you can have the happily ever after you both once wanted.

Walking through the sanctuary, Lestat’s eyes roamed, the walls were filled with portraits and elaborate paints, all relating to the Great Mother. Marius explained the significance for a few but kept moving when the painting caught his eye. It was one of its own, none like it.

“Oh, I see you've spotted Y/n,” Marius said, backing up to stare at the art.

“Who is she?”

“Akasha’s sister, they had different mothers, I believe, they were extremely close, she ended up turning Y/n after Enkil. Y/n wasn't as cold-hearted as her sister, although, she had her moments. She loved her sister, so she followed her lead, she is also a statue,” he said, as Lestat stood frozen, analyzing your face. Next to Akasha, you sat, looking off to the far side, away from the painter. An unreadable expression on your face, you were a mystery, forced into your sister’s shadow.

“Why does she look like that?”

“Y/n is full of secrets, she has never confided in anyone other than Akasha, didn't even have a companion. She was always a third in their lives, I imagine she was lonely,” he sighed. Part of him felt pity for you, unable to have a life for yourself because of your love for your sister. He only hoped that one day, you would find a lover stronger than the relationship.

“She likes music?” Lestat grinned, noticing the small stringed instrument at your feet.

“Yes, she always has had an ear for good music-excuse me, someone is trespassing, stay here, please,” Marius said, leaving to go to the entrance.

As soon as he was out of sight, Lestat was headed straight down the narrow walkway. The guard had been going on and on about how no one was allowed near the great mother, but Lestat was more interested in you now. Seeing the statues, he slowly approached the two. He couldn’t deny, Akasha was beautiful, and could easily be mistaken for a goddess.

Moving closer to them, he noticed the room, on the right side of the great mother. Frozen in time sitting upright in the chair, he was sure he stopped breathing, seeing your condition. A small instrument in your lap, your head turned.

“Mademoiselle, it is a pleasure to grace your presence,” he said, taking his violin case from his back, and carefully placing it in front of you.

“I hear you like music, and so I’d like to share a piece with you,” he said, taking the instrument and setting it in place. He was never one to be nervous, but something about you made him feel as if he was human again.

Shutting his eyes, he dragged the bow across the strings, allowing the melodic music to flow. The piece, he'd written himself, expressing his yearning desire to escape the lonely void that seemed to be consuming him. Lestat was too immersed in the harmony to even notice, that you began to move, your head turning to face him, slowly, you were going back to your old self.

“You too have beautiful taste in music,” you spoke, making his eyes open, widening as he stared at you. You sat with excellent posture, carrying yourself as royalty.

“I-

“Who are you?” you tilted your head, standing up, beginning to circle him.

“I am Lestat de Lioncourt,” he said, keeping his eyes set on your own.

“Lestat, why are you here? Where is Marius?” you questioned.

“He was tending to trespassers, I was learning about the great mother, when I saw a painting of you and decided to see you for myself”

“Why?” you bared your vangs at him, defensively, but he stood unfazed.

“You and I, we aren't much different, lonely, tossed to the side, someone’s second option - and this feeling, since the moment I have laid my eyes on you, I’ve experienced the strangest pull to you, you can not tell me the force isn't mutual,” he said, staring at you as you lunged forward, tugging his hair back. Using your freehand, your fingers you touched his cheek, dragging them down to his neck, before his chest.

He was right, the sensation was deeper than attraction. The mystic tug was like no other craving you'd ever encountered. Flinching back, you were speechless, unable to attack, when Lestat brushed his hands across your cheek.

“Who are you?”

“I believe we already covered that subject,” he chuckled.

“What did you do? Why do I feel this way?” you questioned.

“I don't know, but it is okay to give in, ma chérie, I won't tell,” he whispered, as you finally let go of his hair.

Lightly shoving him backward, you peered at him, trying to hide your confusion. His blonde waves disheveled, a look of amusement on his face, he was enjoying this.

“Get out of here” you spat.

“And leave you to go continue living, or should I say frozen in time? A devout follower of Akasha, your own sister, who didn't even love you enough to have seated amongst them,” he said.

“You know nothing”

“Centuries, you have been thrust into loneliness and eternal rest, when you deserve more. You won't live in anyone’s shadow, together, we will take the night as ours,” he said, slowly approaching you.

Unexpectedly, he smashed his lips into your own, kissing you softly, the air thickening as the kiss grew hungrier. Kissing down his neck, you pulled away, looking him in the eyes, as he leaned back, giving you consent.

Quickly, your fangs were in his neck, draining his blood. Sinking to the floor, you hadn't realized how thirsty you'd been, until this moment. Lestat chuckled, his throat vibrated against your mouth.

Pulling away, as his head lay in your arm, you used your nail to cut your skin, allowing him to drink from you. Inhaling, you couldn't wrap your mind around the euphoria. Sharing your blood, despite being strangers, you felt unnaturally close to one another.

“Y/n? Lestat, what have you done?” Marius said, making the two look at him, as Lestat pulled away from your arm.

“Marius, leave us,” you dismissed, not even looking his way. He seemed hesitant, but turned around, grumbling as he stormed away.

“You are like no other, I’ve ever met,” Lestat told you, smashing his lips against your own. Rolling around, you kissed each other, before you heard it.

“Y/n,” her voice was as soft as a whisper but caught both of your attention.

“Sister?” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“Surely she can wait, you have much to see, the world has changed since you were awake,” he said, helping you stand. Taking your hand, he led you further from the statues, and closer to the entrance. Feeling the cool air blow against your skin, you gasped.

“Come, the night is ours,” he smiled, guiding you down to the beach shore. Humans surrounded a fire, singing songs and dancing. Stopping for a moment, they stared at the two of you.

“Hello, would you like to join us?” one of them asked. Lestat turned to face you, seeing the mischievous smirk on your lips.

In an instant, you were in front of the man, grabbing him by his neck, and plunging your vangs into him. Lestat quickly joined you, as you both viciously devoured each person.

Laying in the sand with each other, you laughed like you hadn't laughed in centuries. Lestat was interesting, funny, with a touch of fierceness. You both continued in this manner, for the next three weeks. Taking the night as your own is what he called it, exploring, finding your next meals. Then, either on the beach near your home or in front of the hundreds of portraits, you held each other.

“I’ve always been told relations were futile, we have no need of such pleasures,” you mumbled, your head against his chest.

“We don't, but it is fun, is it not?” he asked, grinning.

“What is this that you make me feel? I have never met anyone like you,” you told him, as he leaned to peck your lips. Being around him, it felt like you had known him for centuries as if you had been together for an eternity.

“Become my companion, let us leave this place, and we shall see the entire world and what it has to offer,” he told you, his hand placed on your cheek.

Opening your mouth to speak, you stopped, feeling a wave of goosebumps, the quiet groaning beginning to increase in your ears. Abruptly, Marius walked in, halting in his steps as you stood, only wearing Lestat’s shirt.

“Akasha calls for you, she is becoming impatient and sore at your decision to ignore her,” he explained. Gulping, you looked towards the walkway leading to her throne.

“Y/n, I understand she is your sister, but you mustn’t wake her, you, of all people, know what she will do to humanity,” he said.

Turning away from them, you walked down the narrow hall, to their thrones. Getting on your knees, you bowed your head.

“I am here, sister, at your side,” you called out.

“You were going to choose him over us,” you heard, making you cry out.

“No, I am at your side sister, we will be together forever,” you reassured her, wiping your tears.

“I will stay,” you said, hearing the footsteps coming down.

“You can't-

“I must, I can not leave my sister frozen in sleep forever, I have to join her”

“Y/n”

“Don't fight her on this,” Marius said, following behind you, as you went to your room.

Patiently, he stood with his back against the wall, waiting for you to finish changing back into your ancient attire. Walking from the room, you held Lestat’s shirt, carefully placing it into his hands.

“You don't have to do this”

“I do, perhaps we will meet again, and then we could take the night as ours,” you whispered to him. Leaning forward, you slowly pecked his lips, before turning away. He walked as you moved to your seat, your linen kilt, dragging on the floor before you finally sat.

“Thank you for the night, mon chér,” you told him, remembering the term from his native language before you turned back to stone. The blood tears poured down his face, as he fell to his knees, placing his head on your lap.

“My god, her face,” Marius said, in fascination. Your previous form, as a statue, you sat, your head turned, a stoic expression, had been replaced. Facing forward, your head held high, a small smile graced your lips.

“Don’t forget about me,” Lestat told you, holding your cold cheek, before standing up to leave.

“Will she wake up again?” He asked Marius.

“Only time will tell,” he said, leading Lestat out of the villa. Looking back once, he vowed to never forget you, and the feelings that you brought onto him.

“Ahhhh, there he goes, Lestat, I love you,” the young girl screamed, as the loud music blasted through the loudspeakers.

Why the long face, my pretty baby

I got long fangs, come appraise me

Bring your long stakes, that doesn’t phase me

I’m an actor, in my makeup

I’ll get fatter, when we break up

Why does it matter, who I take up

Thousands of miles away, you could hear his voice, stirring in your slumber, before you were awakened.

“Y/n, wake up,” you heard, your eyes opening instantly. In front of you, in all of his glory stood Amel, Akasha’s maker.

“Amel,” you moved to your knees, bowing.

“You are not supposed to be here,” he told you.

“What do you mean?”

“Akasha is selfish, she would destroy the human race along with other vampires, she is meant to be stone, you child, are not like her, despite how much you try to be. Why did you not leave the first time I woke you?” He questioned.

“You woke me-

“For your other half, Lestat, vampires are not meant to be alone, you crave companionship, and so I woke up, to be with him, but I can see that you chose Akasha again”

“I couldn’t leave her”

“You must, I’ve watched you, since the beginning, you aren’t meant to be a part of their fate, take this chance, go to him,” he told you, cutting himself to give you his blood. After, your feet seemed to move on their own, as they ran, stopping for a moment, hearing the groaning.

“I am sorry sister, Amel is right, I need to choose me for once,” you apologized, bowing, before you ran out of the villa, flying into the sky.

His blood was calling out to you, begging to be united again. You were grateful for this moment, Amel and your sister’s blood in your veins, allowing you speed, unlike any vampire, had seen before. Soon you found yourself in a place called Los Angeles, people by the thousands were outside, leaving a weirdly shaped building, cheering and screaming…for Lestat.

You could see the large images of him, how different he looked, how he dressed, and his expression. Your vangs came out, staring down at the people, all of the heartbeats. You were close to going down there, attacking them, killing as many as possible. However, as they began to leave, his scent hit you, he was close.

Flying down, you went into the building, behind the stage, walking to his scent. A few staff tried stopping you, but you hissed, making them back up. Security quickly made their way over, blocking the way, but with a flick of your fingers, they were consumed by flames. Closing your eyes, you smelled his unique scent, inching closer and closer.

“Woah, nice outfit,” you heard, as you began walking toward the line of people. Looking at the man dressed in all black, the smeared makeup on his face, you were unimpressed.

“Right, are you a cosplayer or something?” the woman next to him asked.

“I am here for Lestat,” you said, unsure what she was talking about.

“Same, this is the line, it is very-

“Hey, you have to get in line like the rest of us,” somebody yelled. Tilting your head, you hissed, smirking as fear began to fill their hearts.

“She’s a vampire too,” they murmured amongst themselves.

“Lestat…” you called out to him, as you made your way to the front of the line.

The people watched in amazement and dread, beautifully dangerous, they worried you wouldn't be as restricted as the rockstar, Lestat.

“Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you to go to the back of the line,” another man, security written on his shirt said.

“Are you now?” you asked, the fire lighting on the tip of your fingers. Suddenly, the door opened, Lestat staring at you, unable to believe his eyes. In his heart and mind, he heard you, your blood, calling to him, but he'd waited for this moment for over two hundred years, he couldn't trust his judgment.

“She is with me,” he said, reaching for your hand, pulling you into the room, shutting the door. You went to speak but were cut off by his lips pressing against your own.

“All of those humans, they come to see you, how do you not drain them all dry?”

“I endure, but I usually end up with a treat for the night, how is this possible?” he asked.

“Amel, he was the one to wake me up, when I heard your music, he woke me again, to come to you, for companionship. For thousands of years, I’ve put my sister above myself, her desires over my own, until I met you, and so here I am, if you'd still have me,” you confessed the bloody tears dripping down your face.

“You don't even have to ask, my heart was yours the moment I looked upon your portrait, you had my blood, my kiss,” he told you, pulling you into a long kiss.

“Will we take the night?” you asked him.

“Lestat, you have a long line of fans waiting on you,” someone impatiently knocked on the door.

“The night is ours,” he told you, intertwining his fingers with your own, as his vangs came out, exiting the room, to obliterate the humans outside of the room, for old time's sake.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

i've been having a couple of downer days recently, and i kept looking for a verse i haven't read thrice yet for some comfort, but you're age! gap verse has been a pleasant escape even though its not what i was looking for. you're writing never fails to make me feel better ari 💕💕

Here's how they met 💜

Bruce sighed. He was starting to hate talk show appearances, but at least this one had never been too bad. Angelique was chatty and fun but not grating. Her show ran as school let out. So grannies watched after their naps and kids watched getting off the bus. She ran a little something for everyone.

He assumed he was here for the grannies.

"I'm so sorry I'm late the shoot ran over and I couldn't get away."

The voice caught his attention. Not the fake starlet over dramatic gushing, but genuine distress. And he half turned to look. You looked like you came from a shoot. Straight off the pages of a glossy magazine.

"No worries, Miss Y/L/N we got your call in enough time. We'll just touch up your face and you'll be good to go," the manager greeting you, said.

Bruce smiled a little. Clearly, you were a frequent guest. You thanked him profusely and trotted off. Not needing to be told where to go. And as you go, there's several crew members you can greet by name. You've either been here a lot or worked with them before. Or both. But, it's endearing.

He turned back around listening to Angelique get her updates on where production was. "-And Y/N is in hair and makeup as we speak."

"Oh, bless her heart," Angelique said. "That's what I get calling her last minute." She turned to Bruce and held out her hand, "Are you ready?" she asked.

"As I'll ever be," he chuckled taking her hand, "You know these sorts of things aren't my forte. My oldest on the other hand-"

"Don't you worry about a thing," Angelique reassured him, patting the hand she was holding before letting it go. "Y/N is an old pro- Ah! speak of the devil!" She swooped over and kissed you on either cheek. "You look absolutely divine, is that one of yours?"

"You know it is," you tell her laughing, returning the gesture. "As if I could walk in and NOT wear my own design, you'd never let me live it down."

"So true. Darling," she said grabbing your hand and pulling you over to Bruce, "I want you to meet Bruce. You'll be on stage together today. You know it's charity week and I though it would be great to highlight all the work you do for school arts programs along side the Wayne foundation," she said.

"Hello," you tell him, holding out your hand.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, taking the hand you offered warmly. Giving you his most charming smile. You did look good. And he could tell they hadn't done much to your face or your hair. "I'm a big fan of your work," he commented.

Your smile didn't falter but your eyes narrowed slightly. And Bruce cringed internally Shit. She thinks I mean the Playboy spread, he thought. "Your last movie, the drama, especially. The range of emotion and the depth- It really was incredible."

"Thank you," you tell him. "It was challenging but I really enjoyed it."

Bruce felt his face heat when Angelique coughed and he remembered hearing that you had the ability to make someone feel like they were the only person in the room. He'd forgotten for just a second. In just that brief moment that he was waiting for an appearance. "It showed I uh- my kids made fun of me when I cried at the end-"

"Aww, Angelique gushed, "This is amazing. you guys keep up this chemistry. It'll go totally viral." She bounced on the balls of her feet and kissed your cheek again, "I'll have someone bring you a coffee, sweetie. You're going to start wilting soon."

And before you could say anything or Bruce could offer to go and get it for you himself, Angelique had bustled off to find and assistant to give marching orders to.

[sterredem]

Folkmore

F1 grid x singer!driver!reader

Face claim Taylor Swift

Warning not proofread, spelling mistakes

Summary after the success of RED y/n still isn’t done with music.

Part 1

A/N I wrote this in the middle of the night in a few hours so it isn’t the best. Also I made a few of the things myself so it isn’t the best. And y’all are getting spoiled with 2 fics on the same day:)

Instagram

Liked by LewisHamilton and 5.836.836 others

Yourusername Another great race in Hungary! P2 for the team! A quick break before Spa. I’ll take that time to work on some fun things got y’all😉 Also congrats to Oscar for the win!

View all 976.836 comments

Scuderiaferrari Great job Y/n👏

Charles_Leclerc another great race indeed💪

OliviaRodrigo multi talented queen

SabrinaCarpenter One of the first f1 races I have ever seen. I was STRESSING watching it. Great job love!

User1 You can’t just announce that either those covers and then go on like nothing is happening😭😭

User2 P2 LETS GOOO

User3 it’s so funny ti see that after she released the album she suddenly has millions more followers and millions more likes on her post. Proud of you queen

User4 Fun things????

User5 gorgeous

User6 The car is looking great

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Instagram

Liked by BonIver and 9.735.836 others

Yourusername Another suprise! While I was writing RED about my own experiences I also needed an escape from the real world, so I wrote this album. This is an album full of tales about characters that I made up in my head. Thank you to all the people that helped me write this and helped me make my dream come true. This is also an album that unlike the other one Is filled with poetry (I have always loved that). So I would recommend that if you want the full experience that you hold a dictionary close to you. I hope you will all love this as much as I do. Folklore is out now🩶

View all 696.836 comments

BonIver I had a great time making this with you🩶

Charles_Leclerc another great piece of art

LewisHamilton Your creativity never fails to amaze me

Landonorris just in time, I was beginning ti search for new music

OscarPiastri It’s insane that you know words that I have never heard of and that you aren’t even a native English speaker

User1 WHAT?!? HAHSNUSGENAIHAHH

User2 This is just… I have no words

User3 these song are just…… I am so amazed at how amazing this is

User4 tho sis just the most amazing mix of hard destroying songs and a teenager in love

User5 going from red to this is insane but also so understandable (mostly with some of the songs on red)

User6 just imagine these songs live……

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Instagram

Liked by Scuderiaferrari and 5.826.836 others

Yourusername Not the results we hoped for but in the points nonetheless. See you next Singapore.

View all 646.726 comments

User7 you’ll get back up soon

User8 this caption is so sad and then you have the happy Y/n pictures from the folklore photo shoot

User9 perfect human

User10 Ferrari is really disappointing these last few races

User11 I am loving the aesthetic

User12 Why haven’t we heard of a contract extension yet??? What is this Ferrari?? She is on Eid the best drivers on the grid!

User13 Y/N WOTLD DOMINATION!!

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Instagram

Liked by Charles_Leclerc and 8.736.256 others

Yourusername Folklore the long pond studio sessions out now on Disney plus. This is a documentary that shows the story behind every wingman’s a live version of all the songs. The songs will also be on Spotify soon! I hope everyone will enjoy it and will enjoy knowing the story’s behind every song🩶

View all 265.725 comments

OliviaRodrigo A masterpiece might I say

SabrinaCarpenter One of the best movie I have ever seen

LewisHamilton Every time I see something you have created it amazes me more and more

Charles_Leclerc You always hit with the things you make Y/n

Landonorris My new favourite movie

User1 A MOVIE?!?!

User2 I have never been happier that I have Disney plus!!

User3 On Spotify too?! And the vocals are just INSANE

User4 the love triangle is my favourite thing ever

User5 Y/n drinking red whine just makes so much sense. I can’t explain it

User6 besides the point but I just love that the drivers are supporting her

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Instagram

Liked by Haim and 9.836.826 others

Yourusername Triple surprise! After writing folklore (and red) I just couldn’t stop. So I didn’t. And this is what came from that. The sister album of Folklore; Evermore! This is again an album of tales that I have made up in my head, but there are also a few songs that are very close to my hard. One for example being Marjorie, this song is about my grandmother that has sadly passed away, and the song explains the rest. This album is very close ego my hard. I thank the poeple that have helped me make this and I hope you all like it as much as I do🤎

View all 827.836 comments

LewisHamilton I am once again proven wrong with your amazing writin and story telling

SelenaGomez What a lovely album🤎

Haim it was an honour working with you

Honeymoon I am proud to say that I was a fan before red🤎 amazing job Y/n

Landonorris you killed it (literally)

OscarPiastri Crying in the floor atm

Charles_Leclerc another emotional rollercoaster

MaxVerstappen1 What a piece of art Y/n

User7 I’m claiming right where you left me

User8 ANOTHER ALBUM?!?! I’ve just come by from red and folklore (not that I’m complaining)

User9 my fav sisters; folklore and evermore 🩶🤎

User10 no body, no crime is so unhinged and I love it

User11 all Gina dj stuff but where is the contract extension announcement?!?!

User12 SO PROUD!!

User13 my little indie artist🤎🩶

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Instagram

Liked by Charles_Leclerc and 6.826.836 others

Yourusername I am very bittersweet to announce that this will be my last season in Formula 1. While I am very happy that I have gotten this opportunity, and while I still really enjoy it. I think it is time for me to step off. I know I am still considering young(with being 24) but with my other hobby’s and career I have devoted that it would smartest if I focus on my music career. I will finish this season(hopefully with a championship) and then I will retire. I which the best of luck to the team and to Charles and for my replacement for the next year. Thank you all for the support and I love you all❤️

View all 826.826 comments

Lewishamilton it was an amazing time racing against you❤️

Charles_Leclerc it was an honour to be your teammate. I which you the best with your career

Landonorris I had a lot of fun racing alongside you. I which you the best in the future

User1 NOOOOO

User2 OMG?!?! IS THIS EHY FERRARI HADNT ANNOUNCED ANYTHING??

User3 I am sad that she will leave f1 but I am also happy because MORE MUSIC!

User4 wait could this maybe mean… a tour??

User5 I cried while watching this video

User6 We such you the best!

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Instagram

Liked by Scuderiaferrari and 7.464.375 others

Yourusername Thank you all so much for all the support these last few years. This was my last race in Formula 1, and it was a win. I am so grateful for all the people that made this dream possible! This will not be the last time you see me, just the last time you see me on the track. Again, thank you all so much for supporting me in this dream. And good luck Ollie, I know your going to do it great in Ferrari❤️

View all 863.736 comments

LewisHamilton Have a great retirement y/n/n

Charles_Leclerc it was an honour racing alongside you

Landonorris we will miss you

OscarPiastri I may not have driver with you for long but I which you all the best with music

Maxverstappen1 Have an amazing time and I which you the best of lunch with the music

User7 We Will miss you Y/n!

User8 I was crying when I watched her the last few laps of the race😢

User9 all the driver congratulating her at the end had me tearing up

User10 Forza Ferrari!!

User11 this is so bittersweet

User12 MY FAVOURITE EX-DRIVER

User13 this what’s such an emotional race

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Instagram

Liked by Phoebebridgers and 9.836.836 others

Yourusername I am delighted to announce my brand new (and first) tour! Y/n Y/l/n | The Eras Tour, a journey through my last 3 eras. International dates will be announced as soon as I can and thank you to all the amazing singers that will go with me on this tour🫶

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Instagram

Liked by Charles_Leclerc and 11.376.635 others

Yourusername What an amazing first show! I am shocked at how good you all know the songs! This is the first show of many to come!

Comments are disabled

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No part3. This is the end.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | teaser | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI (for the full fic) word count: ~1k for the teaser (full fic here) warnings (for the full fic, teaser has none): art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, very brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, ambiguous ending, smut warnings on the full fic

a/n: this fic is for the amazing world tour collab for @svthub. i'm excited that i got to be part of it! the full fic will be posted on june 28th. if you'd like to be tagged, leave a comment, send an ask, or fill out my permanent tag form here

taglist: @aaniag, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged. 

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs. 

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look. 

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh. 

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.” 

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.” 

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures. 

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window. 

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. 

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card. 

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles. 

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.” 

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel. 

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease. 

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “It wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.” 

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture. 

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.” 

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

i hope you enjoyed this little snippet!

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[nitw]

one thing i really like about the fionna and cake series - which also applies to the original episodes but obviously not with as much weight or relevance - is how the au characters aren't all just the same copy-pasted personalities of their ooo counterparts. this also goes for all the other dimensions they visit of course, but i wanna talk about our fionna's world in comparison to our simon's world specifically.

fionna is NOT finn. even though they're around the same age at this point they're different people shaped by different experiences and struggles. they're both sorta absent-minded thrillseekers prone to escapism, but while finn is hyper optimistic and has an innate desire to help/cheer up those around him (even if he doesn't always do it right), fionna seems a bit more reluctant on sympathizing with other people's problems, or at least it doesn't come as naturally to her, and even when she's focused her own goals she doesn't have the same drive. this is clearly a big part of her arc, but it takes a lot to motivate her to put genuine effort into things - even those that matter to her.

similarly, gary is NOT bonnie and marshall is NOT marceline.

like bonnie, gary is a huge nerd and a workaholic with attention to detail, but he's shown to have a lot less confidence in himself. he gets easily crushed by the disappointment of others, it embarrasses him to talk about his dreams and interests, and he's generally not very confrontational - in contrast to bonnie who's not only a monarch with a huge amount of responsibility on her shoulders, but also takes way more pride in her intellect and her work, and isn't afraid of voicing her opinions.

and like marceline, marshall is an extroverted smooth talker who uses art to express himself, and clearly has more baggage than he likes to admit, but i feel like the way he avoids his problems is noticeably different from marceline. while marceline tends to bottle everything up until she explodes (and isn't that good at hiding it), marshall seems more prone to distance himself completely from negative thoughts, as long as he can get away with it. like more of a "this is a problem for another day, i'll just ignore it and focus on what makes me happy right now" attitude. he also just seems to be more patient overall.

it's just really neat! like they've always tried to make the f&c counterparts feel different and fun in their own ways, but now that it's Their Show they obviously have to give even more depth to their identities, and i think it's been doing a great job of making us care about them for who they are.

[captainmera]

i never realised just how much tgb had changed how i thought about the characters (mostly vee) until yesterday when i was re-looking over my toh fan-art. You wrote them so well that i forgot that it wasnt all in the show. like how vee and gus weren't shown to being best friends, vee never got to be angry/shocked by hunter or just willow still holding a little grudge against amity. They are just cool details and im so clad they were added! ps your great

Thank you! Wow that's very flattering! I'm glad you are enjoying it!

I really like Vee, and the more I think about the gang's time in the human-realm, the more I sit back in my chair and think "Ah man, these arcs are really necessary and interesting though.."

Vee also holds a lot of plot, as a basilisk. We can speculate what the reason is that they were extinct, for example (grimwalkers were extinct too).

Wat I really enjoy about TOH's characters are how easily and smoothly they weave into each other's themes and arcs. Their personalities and histories makes them all perfect friends to both build them up and break them down. It's a chefs kiss.

Vee is no different! The set-up for her character was perfectly slotted in to what the other characters needed for their time in the human-realm. And the theme I think the human-realm was supposed to embody.

The demon-realm arc for Luz was a hero's journey, but because of the foil of the trope, and that the point was that: there is no hero/chosen one actually, and the rebels didn't make it in time like in the books, and just because it's a different realm it didn't mean Luz could escape - escapism is temporary.

Dana has said grief and hope are core elements of the story, and she chose to tell it through a foiled trope of being chosen/hero's journey, layered with a religious trauma lens.

To me, looking at Luz as the main character, means looking at her as a nerdy girl in need of escapism, wanting to find purpose, and avoiding her emotions about her dad's passing.

The return to human-realm would be, for Luz, a turning point where TOH turns from being about a hero's journey and a journey about the steps of grief and healing - at the end of it, she will find the light.

Vee, to me, is kind of like a new take on the guide character. She is not a guide, in the sense that she has all the answers, but rather all the truths.

She was right when she told Luz she had everything and still chose to run away. They're not the same. Vee is also a lot better than Luz at being normal and fitting in, something Luz has been playing off and avoiding facing. Luz sees herself as being different as a bad thing, she tried to run away to a place where "weird" was normal and that didn't work out. Now she's back home and feels that it's all her fault bad things happened, because she is herself. And the person she is is different. And different didn't mean special, just different. Of course she's depressed.

The same is true for all the other characters. Vee gets to reflect their truths too, simply by being crafted, narratively, into being the guide.

Hunter gets to face his actions as the GG, come to terms with the nuances of his bad actions, whatever reason he committed what he did. Find forgiveness not just from Vee but himself too. He gets to start over, just like her. She shows him it's possible.

Gus gets someone to share his dream with, his love and enthusiasm for the human realm. A place that Vee feels is more home than where she came from. Gus gets to grow as a person, both morally and intelligently. As does Vee, she gets somebody who shows her that she doesn't just have to be a refugee, she can have a purpose here. She can be an ambassador.

Willow was set up to have an arc where she mistook her newfound magical and physical strengths (she is working out a lot in canon after she changed track), for inner strengths. Willow is a sensitive girl, and a bit of a berserk (I mean she was willing to burn her own mind just to hurt Amity). Willow having to face Vee, who isn't physically stronger than her but is significantly further down the road of being internally strong, is something Willow can learn from. Perhaps even have conflict with! (but more so a conflict with herself than with Vee, really.)

With Amity, Vee has a simpler role. I think to Amity it's more so showing that it's possible to live in the human realm, and giving her hope that going back and forth is a future for everyone who wishes to do so. Creatively speaking, I think Amity and Vee more so to bounce off one another for the plot, rather than character growth or decline.

Camila, I think, is the most interesting. Because she has now spent approximately a year with Vee, half of it thinking she was Luz and having feelings about her daughter having changed so much, the line "I'm glad youre still creative" comes to mind. As well as the terror of losing Luz again. But also, because she has had her own unseen arc and development with Vee, and them having bonded into a foster family that we never got to see glimpses of, it goes without saying that Camila has already done the internal work to take on more kids if that's necessary. I think she saw these kids by her door and thought "yep. They're mine now too." Vee, I think, is interesting to toss into the family dynamic between Luz and Camila, who seemingly are misunderstanding one another significantly. Vee sees them both, and can be a voice of reason when it comes to it. Or if it would come to it.

ANYWAY MY RANTS ARE LONG. IM DONE. THANKS FOR READING.

[mint-yooxgi]

Permanent - Wooyoung X Reader

Tattoo Artist!Au - Part of the CODN Spring Event - The Language of Flowers

Genre: Fluff, Non-idol!AU

Pairing: Wooyoung X GN!Reader

Words: 1,408

Rating: E for Everyone :)

Warnings: Mention of needles, tattoos, unconventional proposals.

A/n: Something short and sweet! I just thought the idea of Wooyo as a tattoo artist was really nice to think about lol As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Expect the unexpected, especially when it comes to your boyfriend.

Bluebell - Grateful

Lavender - Faithful

Lily of the Valley - Sweet

The soft buzzing of the needle fills the air, your hand tightening lightly over the tattoo gun. Wooyoung’s skin is soft and pliant beneath your touch, a soft sigh exhaled through his nose as the needle touches the side of his ribs.

“You okay?” You hum, sparing a glance upwards to his face.

He smiles back, his one arm tucked neatly beneath his head as he watches you. “Never better.”

“This was your idea, you know.” You reply, wiping over the artwork blooming over his skin. A matching print which already rests over the side of your own ribs, curtesy of the man currently laying on the chair before you.

“Do you regret it?” He tilts his head slightly, blinking at you curiously.

You take a moment to finish outlining the final bud before lifting your gaze to his. Nothing but sincerity can be found within your eyes as you smile softly at your boyfriend. “I could never regret you.”

His lips pull upwards bashfully, a giddy giggle escaping his lips.

“I love you,” He coos, reaching out with his free hand to brush his fingertips over the side of your cheek.

You turn your head, pretending to nip at his fingers.

“I love you, too,” you chuckle as he whines, watching as he pulls his hand away from your face. “Now, stop distracting me. I don’t want to mess this up.”

All you receive in response is a hum, another comfortable silence falling around the both of you. You work meticulously on the design, making sure the colours are blended thoroughly into his skin. It has to be perfect, especially if you want it to match your own.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to this.” Wooyoung’s voice is soft, his gaze shining in adoration at he watches you work over his body.

“I’m surprised you didn’t suggest it sooner.” The corner of your lips twitch upwards, wiping the excess ink from his skin once more.

Despite being a tattoo artist, Wooyoung isn’t covered in tattoos. It takes a lot for him to decide to permanently ink his skin; it has to be of great importance to him, and he needs to know that he wants it. He already has a few, sure, but each holds a very specific meaning to him. Just like you.

The moment he suggested the both of you give each other matching tattoos, you went wild. Thoughts of what you could give him, and of what he could give you swirled within your mind until finally, you settled on something meaningful for the both of you. It’s his design that rests on your skin, and your design that rests on his own, drawn in each of your own art styles to make it all the more special. Two of the same, but still unique in their own ways.

The design itself is simple: three individual sprigs of flowers which symbolize you, him, and your relationship. 

On one stem, bluebells reside, handpicked by you to represent what he means to you. You’ve always been grateful to have him in your life, and now you can always show him without having to tell him. 

The centre stem is a sprig of lavender, meant to symbolize the both of you in the relationship. It took some discussion between you both, but neither of you are anything less than faithful to the other, and this flower represents that. It will always represent that.

Finally, you get to the final flower that was personally picked by him to represent you. The lily of the valley is bright upon his skin, and you notice him smiling down at you as you stare at it a bit longer than the others. You can still recall the very words he said to you when he showed you the flower he had chosen.

Because you are the sweetest thing that has ever come into my life, and stayed.

Thinking back on it now, your heart warms.

Tying the three stems together with a neat little bow is a thin red string. You’re still unsure who came up with that idea, whether it was him or you, but you know as soon as it was suggested, it was a given. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to guarantee keeping him in your life, just as there is nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you. You both work well together, and have grown significantly since meeting all those long months ago in the spring.

How fitting to have such delicate flowers be the symbol of your love.

With another swipe over his skin, you pull the needle away. A flick, and the buzzing stops, taking a moment to admire your work. Though, in reality, you’re simply admiring him.

“Done?” He asks eagerly, attempting to look down at the design on the side of his ribs.

You hum, lips tugging upwards in a satisfied smile. “Done.”

Wooyoung grins, sitting up eagerly in his spot only to hop off of the chair and waddle excitedly over to the full length mirror you have resting at the side of your shop. His eyes flit over his side, admiring the new tattoo as he shifts back and forth lightly on his feet.

He lifts his gaze to yours in the mirror. “It’s beautiful.”

Gently, you place your tattoo gun to the side, reaching to grab the materials you’ll need to wrap it properly before you can truly say you’re finished for the evening.

“You’re beautiful, Wooyoung,” you respond casually, your expression soft as you watch him continue to admire the new tattoo.

He turns to you, a serious expression suddenly painted on his features. “Marry me.”

The words are so unexpected, you nearly drop the bottle in your hand.

You look up, blinking at him in shock. “What?”

Wooyoung begins to walk back over to you, each step firm and determined.

“Marry me.” His gaze is just as intense as the first time he says those words, coming over to kneel before you. Gently, he takes your hands into his own, holding them softly as he stares into your eyes. “You’re the only one for me, and I love you. I only ever want you. So, marry me.”

Your breath catches lightly in your throat, blinking down at him a few times as you study his features. You can see how his eyes shine with nothing but love and adoration for you, his throat working slightly as he waits with bated breath for your response.

Your lips part. “Okay.”

Now, it’s his turn to blink in shock at you. That is, until a brilliant smile is lighting up his features. “Really?”

“Really.” A low chuckle escape you, and you lean forward to place a tender kiss to the tip of his nose. “Now, get back up here so I can wrap you properly.”

A devious grin tugs at his lips as he stands back to his feet, moving to sit back on the chair. His eyebrows wiggle suggestively, hands gripping the sides of the seat as he leans towards you.

“Want to get a head start on practising our vows?”

You smack his arm lightly. “Wooyoung!”

“What?” He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he positively beams. “I’m just enjoying the perks of marriage early!”

You shake your head, beginning to treat the freshly inked tattoo on his side.

A loud gasp escapes him, causing you to nearly stumble out of your stool.

“Does this mean I finally get to call you wifey?”

You can practically see him trembling in excitement as you huff out a breath in amusement. “You already call me that.”

“Yeah, but context!” He beams, wiggling his eyebrows once more. “Oh! I wonder if Hwa will be your maid of honour.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” You snicker, knowing damn well Wooyoung is going to be smacked for so much as inquiring such a thing.

“And then we have to decide on a cake, and flowers-“ His excited ramblings fill the space, only causing a loving smile to pull at your features. 

Once you’re done wrapping his tattoo, you look up at him, heart swelling with warmth at how excited he seems to be. Your eyes settle on the side of his ribs. You have a feeling you know exactly which flowers are going to be used, and if you’re being honest with yourself…

You wouldn’t want it any other way.