#maybe wips of the venue

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript and Bonus below the cut:

Phoenix: It’s been ten years, almost to the day, since I lost my mom. I’ve been thinking about her a lot since we had Aspen. Something about knowing that she’ll never get to know her granddaughter. That Aspen will never get to know her. It’s a different kind of grief that I wasn’t prepared for.

Phoenix: [wipes a stray tear from his eye] After I moved in with Julian, I would come out here sometimes. I’d sit on this bench and look out at the water, and I’d talk to her. I’d tell her about my life, that I loved her and missed her, that I was sorry for being such a pain in the ass. I even told her about Malcolm. I don’t know why this spot. Maybe just because it’s pretty here, and away from everything and quiet, but I could almost convince myself that she could hear me.

Phoenix: I guess I hoped that by bringing you both here… well, it’s the closest I could get to introducing you.   Dawn: If your mom was here right now, would she prefer it if I called her Leanne? Or Miss Realta? Phoenix: [breathes a laugh through his nose] Definitely Leanne. She’d give me hell if I let you call her Miss Realta. Dawn: Okay. Well, Leanne, my name is Dawn, and I am madly in love with your son. We’re getting married in a couple of months, and I’m so excited. You’re invited, of course, if you can make it to Brindleton Bay.

Dawn: Most importantly, though, this is Aspen. She’s your granddaughter. Her middle name is Leanne, after you, of course. And, um, you should know that Phoenix is an incredible father. I wish I could’ve gotten to know you. And I wish you were here to give me some parenting advice because you clearly did something right, and I feel so lost all of the time. But I promise we’ll come back to visit, at least every Winterfest, so you can see Aspen as she gets older.

Phoenix: Thank you. Dawn: Thank you for sharing this place with us. I can see why you were drawn to it. It does kinda feel like she’s here, like she’s listening. Phoenix: [nods but doesn’t speak for fear that his voice will betray him] Aspen: [coos] Phoenix: [clears his throat] Did I ever tell you that she wanted to write children’s books? Dawn: I remember you saying she used to make up stories a lot when you were little.

Phoenix: Yeah [smiles at the memory] She was never able to pursue writing seriously because she was always working two or three jobs to take care of us, to take care of me. I always hoped she’d be able to one day, and that she’d publish her own books. I can probably tell Aspen a few of them from memory, but how cool would it have been to be able to give her an actual book?

Dawn: That would’ve been amazing. Out of all the stories she told you, did you have a favorite?

Phoenix: Oh, god, um… if I had to pick, it would probably be this one about a polar bear name JuJu that dreamed of going to Jupiter. [laughs] I remember, we were learning about the solar system in school, and we all had to do a report on a planet. I chose Jupiter. But I had a really hard time writing the report, I’d never done one before. So, she made up this story about my favorite animal, a polar bear, going to Jupiter. It was really funny and full of facts about the planet. Not only did I get an A on my report, but I made her retell the story about a hundred times.

Dawn: Aw, that’s so cute. I wanna hear it. Will you tell us the story? Phoenix: Right now? Dawn: Yeah. Phoenix: Okay, sure…

✨Bonus✨

And, of course, Aspen got to meet her Great Uncle Julian while they were in Copperdale. She was a little unsure at first, but she warmed up to him pretty quick. 🥰

[greeneyeofenvy]

not done

These backgrounds are giving me a mental breakdown (not rlly but still)

[skunkes]

I'm v curious abt Talon's mesoamerican origins and evolution in general how does his accent sound when written out? after such a long life what is the strongest vestige of those times he has (aside from physical features and so on). I can't believe some rando bloodsucker colonized my boy

I have no idea what his accent wld sound like as the few videos i cld find of people speaking his original language, are, of course, mainly spanish speakers! And I can sometimes hear the difference in spanish as they switch between the 2 while being interviewed but i struggle to mentally transplant that as to how it'd sound in English ykwim 😭 there's also the fact that its the modern language spoken by them so it has evolved alongside and borrows from spanish anyway, by those who still speak it and speak both Today

Im actually still zeroing in on fleshing out more of that lore, since I can't find too much info on the specific culture i envision for him, it may really just have to be "fantasy culture INSPIRED by the people" instead, so i dont completely botch actual historical info 😮‍💨 either that or go very vague off of the info available

[crescentlyautumn]

Me, currently struggling with this next chapter of my KinnPorscheBig fic: Man… I just wish my brain would give me some good old inspiration to help me-

My brain: Here’s a whole new fic idea for KinnPorscheBig!

Me:

[comatosebunny09]

defense(less) zone | sylus

— summary: it wasn’t until your friend returned with a third glass that he noticed something was…off. the woman—tara, he believes her name was—pat him on the shoulder as she strode past. “have a good night, mr. skye,” she drawled, leaving sylus to ponder what the hell that meant. — cw: aphrodisiacs, written with female reader in mind, awkward boners, stupid humor, alcohol consumption, accidental intentional drugging, profanity, sylus in-heat, sexual content, mdni — notes: here's half of what you asked for. once i finish up with my other wips, i'll revisit this one. thank you so much for reading! — tags: @leighsartworks216 @world-of-hearts @queenofstresss @cheshireworld @beewilko

Sylus knew better.

He knew after the third time you warned him not to touch the grog that it was imperative he listen.

Sure, he teased you about it. “I assure you, sweetheart. I know how to hold my liquor.”

The sharp look in your eye held a warning. “That’s not the problem.”

He chuckled with his hands thrown up in mock surrender. You were being a killjoy, sure. But he heeded you, avoiding the table that held the concoction of spirits like the plague.

Until…

Well, your friends—they were so lovely. Equally as insistent, shoving drinks and hors d'oeuvres into his hands while you were off socializing.

It was your fault for leaving him alone. You were the talk of the ball since you’d stepped foot in the venue with Mister Tall, Dark, and Devastating. Naturally, when you left his side, your friends swept in, buzzing about like hoverflies.

They bombarded him with questions, swooned over him, complimented him. He was used to the limelight. This level of attention. But it hit differently when people weren’t kissing his ass because he was a kingpin.

He found his defenses melting into the floor the more they talked to him, and it was easy for Sylus to understand why you acquainted yourself with them. They were lively. Disarming. Dangerous.

One of your lady friends sidled up to him with a glass of something ominous. Light pink in color, and it swirled and glittered like a nebula. Its acrid scent should’ve been enough of a ward. But he didn’t want to be rude. And he wasn’t a bitch, so he drank it, ignoring its harsh edge. He needed to blend in. Show you he could drink like a sailor and still carry you home by the night’s end.

And…maybe he was being a little impressionable.

It wasn’t until your friend returned with a third glass that he noticed something was…off.

“Thank you,” Sylus said, the glass poised at his lips.

Your friend watched with mischief painting her features. That didn’t bode well. Sylus threw back the last drink, placing his glass on a waiter’s tray passing by.

The pair stood in uncomfortable silence—Sylus smiling warily with a hand stuffed in his pocket and the young lady refusing to look away as a Chesire grin split her face in twain.

The woman—Tara, he believes her name was—pat him on the shoulder as she strode past. “Have a good night, Mr. Skye,” she drawled, leaving Sylus to ponder what the hell that meant.

The rest of your coworkers followed suit, slowly trickling away to the dancefloor. As Sylus said his goodbyes to the last of them, the room started to teeter, and his chest grew heavy as if weighed down by lead.

Sylus massaged his temple, trying to blink away the sudden bleariness. There was no way in hell he was drunk. Not this early in the evening, and not after a handful of watered-down cocktails.

He scanned the room. Caught your eye amongst the sea of revelers. You raised your champagne flute to him in greeting, a quiet smile rounding your lips. This ball was important to you—an opportunity to create a lasting impression on your new superiors. Sylus would kick himself if he spoiled it. So, he nodded.

But he learned to regret that simple gesture soon enough.

He stumbled forward a step or two, and the marbled floors below swam. What the fu—

Shaking his head, Sylus’ eyes flit to you to see your brows pinching with concern. You looked like you wanted to tear through the crowd to get to him. He smiled to lay your worries to rest, mouthing, ‘I’m alright.’

Seemingly satisfied, you spared him another apprehensive look before returning your attention to the woman before you who’d ensnared you in conversation.

Sylus wasn’t exactly sure what was amiss with his body. Just knew he was growing hot beneath the fibers of his tux, and the hairs at his nape were pasted to his skin by sweat.

He wended through the crowd, taking long strides towards the restroom. Maybe a splash of cold water would draw him back to sobriety.

On his journey, he caught sight of the punchbowl you’d steered him away from all night.

He swallowed past a lump of barbs in his throat, quickening his pace as a familiar swirl of pale pink gleamed condescendingly at him from within.

—

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty.

He inspected himself in the mirror, his large hands on either side of the sink bowl to keep him upright.

He’d broken out with a fine sheen of sweat. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Why the fuck was it so hot? And why was his chest burning like that, the sensation slowly puddling in his stomach?

Sylus turned on the faucet. Cupped his palms beneath its languid spray, splashing water onto his face. He slapped his cheeks, willing himself to get his shit together. Despite his efforts, the lights of the men’s room continued to spin and blur, and he struggled to keep himself afloat.

He winced at his reflection. Took a deep breath, mouth hanging open when he exhaled. He looked flushed. Unkempt. The veins of his neck visibly throbbed, and he felt the beginnings of a headache seeping in. Could he really not hold his liquor?

“Hey, man!” called a boisterous voice from behind. It was followed by a clap on Sylus’ shoulder, and had he been anyone but himself, he would’ve barreled into the wall. A growl roiled in his chest, and he cut his eyes at the intruder.

The guy in question—one of your coworkers whom Sylus spoke with earlier—draped an arm about his shoulders, studying both their visages with a drunken cant to his lips.

“Great party, huh?”

Sylus could only grunt, his throat slowly constricting, and his wits scattered about.

“You alright, man?” he queried. “Not lookin’ so hot there.” He studied Sylus’ side profile a moment longer before a knowing foxlike grin crept over his lips. “Aw, dude! You get a hold of the grog, too?”

Sylus felt the color drain from his face.

“Yeah, man. That shit’s lethal. Don’t know what they put in it this time, but I’m harder than a rock!” The room erupted with his raucous laughter directly into Sylus’ ear. He proceeded to palm himself, playfully wiggling his hips.

Sylus wondered how long you’d give him the silent treatment if he committed murder tonight.

“Take care, man,” the obnoxious asshole bellowed, patting Sylus a little too roughly between his shoulder blades. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Sylus tracked his movements to the door until it swung closed behind him, blotting out the swell of noise beyond. He bowed forward, his forehead colliding with the glacial surface of the mirror—a welcomed contrast to his inflamed skin.

“Fuck,” he rasped, hanging on by a thread.

They spiked the grog. They spiked the fucking grog. He’d had three glasses of it, and whatever was in there disrupted his senses and made his pants grow unbearably tight. That would explain why everyone was so nauseatingly happy.

Your visage flashed in his mind. Made his body pulse, and he crumbled with grit teeth.

He knew you’d be up his ass when you found out.

In his defense, you left him to the wolves. To those jackals you called friends.

—

He finds you in no time. Sniffs you out like a bloodhound after he gave himself a lengthy pep talk in the bathroom.

“Sweetie,” Sylus calls from behind. Eases a hand down the curve of your spine. You shiver. Damn your dress for having such a devastating plunge. For boasting your pretty skin like that.

You’re so soft here, he thinks, dragging the backs of his fingers up and down the ripples of your vertebrae. The scent you carry is lethal. Floral and sweet. His eyes nearly pitch into the back of his skull when he gets a whiff, toes scrunching in his dress shoes.

You peer at him over your shoulder, a soft smile to your lips. Toy with your necklace. Very demure, very docile.

“There you are,” you purr with that thousand-watt smile, your voice honey-smooth. He feels it pooling in his lower belly. Bites his lip against a pathetic sound threatening to make itself known.

Over your shoulder, he gives your company a curt, dismissive smile. Perches a hand on your hip, drawing you back towards him to spin you around. He then leads you to a spot devoid of people, away from the strobing lights. His palms clasp around your arms, thumbs cruising over supple skin.

“What’s up?” you whisper, pressing a concerned hand between his pectorals. His Achilles Heel. His heart beats a war cadence against you. He might just take you here if you’ll let him. Split you nice and open.

Alarm meddles with your features at his silence. At the violent tremor of his heart. Your brows furrow, and your lips quiver. “What’s wrong, Sy?”

God, you’re beautiful, even when you look all concerned. He traces a languid triangle between your bowed lashes and lips. Wants to kiss you so fucking bad. Smudge that pretty lipstick down your chin. Slide his hand between your thighs and make you sigh his name in front of all these people.

His dick throbs.

Fuck. Focus. Stay focused.

“Sweetie,” he tries again, swallowing thickly. His eyes are at half-mast. He’s trying his best not to sway—not to look like a bumbling idiot, but whatever’s in his system has him seeing double.

You jet into mom mode. Gently grab his wrists, the feel of your digits branding his skin, wrenching a needy sound from his throat. “Sylus, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

He debates on telling you the truth. Turns it over like a record in his mind, weighing the pros and cons. Feels silly, like a child admitting to rifling through the cookie jar.

A wave of vertigo hurtles into him, reminding him of his plight. He teeters forward, catching himself at the last minute. Angles closer, his breath stirring your baby hairs.

“I…might’ve indulged a little.”

“Huh?” you ask, rubbing up and down his arms. You smooth his hair away from his forehead, behind his ears. Gather his cheeks into your palms, and he burns like an inferno. “The hell does that even mean?”

He tries his best to roll his eyes. For someone so gorgeous, you can be incredibly daft.

“The grog, sweetie.”

“The grog…” There’s a faraway look in your eyes.

He watches the gears turn in your head before realization descends on your shoulders. Whatever concern you held for him sloughs off, replaced by mortification. The world eases by in a Gaussian blur, every sound a muddled mess to his ears.

Suddenly, you’re shoving at him. Pelting his chest with half-hearted jabs, and he stumbles back. Bad idea. He catches your hands, holding on tight to keep himself afloat.

“You drank—you drank the fu—”

Glancing around, you haul him towards an alcove. Push him up against the wall none-too-gently, forcing a grunt from his lungs.

“You drank the fucking grog?”

Uh-oh. You’re whisper-yelling. He’s in for it now.

“Yep.”

“After I told you, like, thirty times not to?!”

“Yep.”

“What the fuck, man!”

He’s swaying again. Plasters on a silly grin. It’s comical, watching you quietly panic.

“To be fair, your friend fed it to me.” He motions to something off to the side with a tilt of his head.

You pick up on his cue. Tara’s not too far off, waggling her fingers in a way that bleeds mischief.

“Unbelievable!” you sigh, scrubbing a frustrated hand down your face. “I can’t leave you by yourself for two seconds.”

You’re clearly upset. He doesn’t mind catching strays. Couldn’t dodge them even if he tried. So, instead, he takes hold of your hands to calm them. Tugs you closer, eyes a bleary shade of burgundy. 

“What’s done is done, sweetheart. How we next choose to handle this is what matters now.”

You give him a look. A once-over, painting a sharp line down the slope of his body. It is then that you catch sight of him—hot and turgid against the stitching of his trousers. A knit forms between your brows. You look like you want to scream-slash-cry.

“That bad?” you ask. Your disappointment from before abates, replaced by something of concern. He chuckles, and it’s an effort on its own. 

Sluggishly, he directs your hand to the cusp of him. Groans something filthy and bitten-off, eyes screwing shut. He bows into you, a bead of sweat trailing down the ridge of his Adam’s apple. 

“That bad.”

[bungiri]

obsessed w trying to get my art to look like an early-mid 2000s cartoon

curious as to how other artists do their lineart bc i just draw directly onto my sketch and clean it up … is it efficient maybe not but it’s not as stressful to me 🫡

[gemini-atz]

San as your Boyfriend ❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ('Realistic Imagines' + Astrology Based)

Background/Disclaimer: !!This is all my own interpretation based on my personal astrology knowledge and research. I consider myself an amateur!!

Contains NSFW, minors please use caution I will put all the harder nsfw headcanons under a warning in the text if you're looking for more fluffy feelings in general and would like to avoid.

Genre /: Smut, Imagines

Rating: 18+

Warnings: very jealous San, mentions of biting, unprotected s3x, collaring

Read about other members (WIP)

CHOI SAN SUN Cancer MOON Gemini MERCURY Leo VENUS Leo MARS Scorpio

✩Gemini Notes✩San as a boyfriend is (how do I put this nicely)….a lot to handle! Maybe it's just my majority Gemini/Air chart talking but dating someone like San would probably be way too much for me. But if you're a water sign girly or love being obsessed over COME ON DOWN!!

**A reader let me know I had taken down San's Venus incorrectly, his Venus is in Leo! I reread all my notes/research and I do feel happy with most of my interpretation since I did lean heavily on his Sun/Moon/Mars overall. I'll be making minor edits in green bc there are a couuuple little things I would recontextualize;

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*+:★:+*━━━*

San as your boyfriend gives you a giddy feeling at least every other week like the one you got when you first started dating. Firstly, you probably have NEVER been pursued this hard by a man. San wears his heart on his sleeve and has a terrible poker face, and to be honest, he isn't really trying all that hard to hide his intentions. He really was shy on your first couple dates, after he awkwardly asked you out one day (and you're pretty sure you saw one of his friends in the distance barely hidden behind a tree, making cheerleading type gestures) his cheeks completely red, but eyes looking stoically to one side. He probably had no idea you'd been crushing on him for weeks, and needed plenty of convincing to go for it from his friends. Literally everyone in your office knew him as "the hot maintenance guy" who's ears got red whenever you said goodbye to him when he was passing the front desk. On your first two dinner dates after work, he was a complete gentleman, opening your car door and every door in your way for that matter. After a couple glasses of wine he was smiling his genuine sweet smile and that Leo Mercury came into full force, he was flirting with you in every sentence, making you feel like the most special person in the world. At the end of the night, nothing more than a kiss on the cheek.

By the third dinner date, you got impatient and leaned over to whisper something in his ear as you leave the restaurant that results in you being folded in half in the backseat of his car with his deep voice panting and moaning needily in your ear. From that point on, he feeds off any boldness you give him, the floodgates open and you feel like you're going to be eaten up by him. He has you calling into work just to spend more hours in bed together type honeymoon phase.

A Leo Venus and Scorpio Mars in tandem with his Cancer Sun make him deeply passionate and emotional and these placements often experience intense limerence and can end up accidentally love-bombing their target, and they can get a little crazy internally if they perceive rejection. He's just straight up jealous and moody and you'll need to be the type of girlfriend who doesn't always give in and give him what he wants. He needs a lot of attention and reassurance that he’s important to you, he adores you and wants to be adored back. He’s a guy that likes to look good and dresses nicely to go out with you, even if it’s a little coffee date. He is reassured and calmed by physical touch from you, and he probably wants to be the little spoon sometimes even though he’s shy asking about it at first. Genuinely one of the most caring people you've met and intensely loyal. When you facetime him after work he seems so happy to see you every time and you just can talk about nothing with him, even the most throwaway parts of your day he blinks and nods intently at. One of your favorite things about him is that you can still seem to fluster him by being the one to flirt boldly, complimenting his body after the gym would have him doing those shy little scoffs, trying to hide his pleased smile and all you can think is "The nerve of this man to act flustered after the things he did to me last night". Venus Leo’s areeee just a little bit vain, San knows he looks good but loves to hear it best from you. He likes to show you off, and he's always embarrassing you by wanting to take pictures of you if you're wearing a cute outfit. He'll get you to stand a few feet away and pose, while he says "My girlfriend is seriously too pretty." to anyone that passes by too close and watches the mini photoshoot.

These Leo Mercury men can LEAP to conclusions and in tandem with his other placements he can overthink your motives or actions to a detrimental degree, driving himself anxious. He needs to know what you're up to and will double and triple text if he doesn't hear back from you quickly enough. He’s literally the “you did that without me?” 🥺☹️ boyfriend about everyyyything.

If you comment while grocery shopping that another guy has a really cool tattoo, he might be uncommonly quiet for the rest of the day and then at bedtime turn to you with his face in the most over the top pout "Should I get a tattoo? It would look sexy right?” He might come off standoffish to your friends at first (mostly out of genuine shyness) and his severe looking expression could give them the wrong impression of him, meanwhile once you get back in the car he buries his face in his hands and just sighs dramatically "They hated me". It will take a few tries but soon your friends will love him, they will be completely won over by how well he takes care of you and how he looks at you while you’re talking.

When he’s kissing you, which is as much as he can possibly get away with, his hands are always up to no good. As a couple you're constantly late to dinners or events because the second you step out of the room all dressed up, he's walking toward you with that little shy smile before reaching you and kissing you, hugging you close and groaning "Babe…" in your ear (and yes, he's already hard). He's just obsessed with the faces that you make for him and only him and he loves having you all to himself.

His emotional side can come out at the drop of a hat, like when on your first anniversary you decided to buy him flowers since you'd heard most guys never get flowers from anyone in their life and the second you hand over the bouquet to him with a big smile he's reaching up to wipe his tears. He prefers to gift jewelry, especially necklaces so you can wear a physical reminder of his love everywhere you go. As a partner, he does need a lot of mental care and support from you. His moon can make him anxious at times, even though he can try to project a constructed image of complete fearlessness and dominance, with you, his love, he lets himself feel fear, self doubt and be soft and he trusts you to protect and soothe him.

NSFW Below

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San has a thing for ownership; I won't say a breeding kink but more of an ownership one. He doesn't like other men looking at you with what he feels are impure expressions (hypocrite!) and the times that he really needs to reassert himself are probably after a night out together dancing at a club. Of course your attention was fully on him (in fact you think YOU have better grounds to be jealous when he wears shirts that show off his chest like that) but seeing other guys expressions as they watched you press your body into him drove him crazy. He gets you home and in bed, gently kissing all over your face before he orders you to get on your hands and knees before fucking you relentlessly until your arms have given out and you're facedown in the pillow, blissed out from the force of how hard he thrusts into you, feeling his strong fingers sinking punishingly into your ass. It feels like he’s using you like a toy the way he’s manipulating your body and filling the room with lewd smacks. Eventually he releases you, planting both hands on either side of you and pressing his whole body down into yours, kissing his way up your back till reaching the base of your neck. “Do you like that? Mm?” His deep voice drives you crazy and all you can do is whimper a response while he plants more sloppy kisses in the base of your neck and biting down harshly into the joint of your neck and shoulder when he feels himself about to cum, groaning loudly at the precious little sounds you let out for him as he empties inside you. He only wants to mark you all over and fill you again and again to show you who you belong to, and how good he takes care of you. He'll definitely eventually gift you a collar, the everyday wear chain type that looks like a necklace, but with a small silver lock on the front that only he has the key to.

As your relationship progresses and matures, you'll learn the right buttons to push with him out in public to have him leaning over to grip your inner thigh roughly, smiling outwardly as he leans in to whisper "just wait till I get you home".

He’s a lingerie and matching set appreciator, like the fact that you would doll yourself up and put on something uncomfortable but really sexy just for him genuinely makes him feel so soft for you…and then really really hard for you. He's really into stimulating and sucking on your breasts and nipples, and the lingerie just makes them look so amazing for him. He'd be so gentle with you while you're wearing it because he doesn't want to mess any of the delicate garments up. He just sits you down in front of the mirror with your back leaning against his chest and taking his time to touch every part of you, kissing your neck and intently watching your expression in the mirror until you're so sensitive you feel like you might cum just from him pinching your nipples through the lace. Only then does he slide his hand down to finally give some attention to your swollen clit.

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Ty @cursedeastern for requesting San

(Also very new to tagging so if you do request something and prefer I not put your user in the text post or have another way to notify just lmk ♡( •ॢ◡-ॢ)✧˖° ♡ )

I'm still working on Seonghwa's because his chart is just so interesting lol I keep going off on a tangent like I'm doing an actual reading and forget to write in the romantic bits. But I'm hoping to post by this weekend.

I already had San fully formed in my mind due to my many run in's with Scorpio and Cancer men ( ╥ω╥ ) Y'all can KEEP EM' but also due to seeing his general behavior in videos...he really embodies the Cancer man to me

[veronicaphoenix]

talk some sense to me | n.s.

Summary: Everybody thinks Noah is a Casanova. The truth is, that's just a façade to keep his romance with his best friend's sister a secret.

"Nicholas' sister was off-limits. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away."

one shot ✨ word count: 2.9k pairing: noah sebastian x reader (nicholas' sister) tags and trigger warnings: 'forbidden' romance', reader is nicholas ruffilo's younger sister, reader is a uni student, long-distance relationship (sort of), fluff, angst, implied and mentioned sexual scenarios (but not described in detail), open ending (sorry).

author's note: i wrote this in a couple of hours and i did some minimal editing after. i had this random story cross my mind yesterday and thought i could turn it into a short fic, but with so many wips, i decided it to keep it a one shot <3 maybe one day it'll turn into a fic, who knows. For now, I hope you like it! 💕

“This is wrong,” Noah whispers as he kisses her, his mouth trailing down her jaw and neck. 

            The way she tilts her head to give him more access makes him feel dizzy and lucky at the same time. 

            “So wrong,” his voice vibrates against her pulse. 

            Her hands tangle in his hair, and he revels in the way she occasionally pulls at it, sending a jolt of ecstasy down his spine. “Your brother’s in the next room.”

            “Then stop,” she murmurs, her voice equally breathless, consumed by a sensation she can’t quite name. 

            But she can; it’s called Noah, her brother’s best friend. 

            “I don’t want to,” he replies, sucking at a spot on her neck he knows drives her crazy. 

            He hasn’t wanted to stop for over two years. 

            They know they’re playing with fire, especially tonight.

            Nick is in the living room, the ongoing party keeping him oblivious to the fact that his childhood best friend, Noah, has taken his little sister to an adjacent room at the back of the house to devour her mouth and touch her in ways no other man ever has. 

            It’s not the first time. 

            Noah has been captivated by her long enough to be her first. If Nick ever found out, he would surely kill him. 

            His sister was off-limits. Always had been. It was never stated, but implicitly understood. And maybe because of that reason, Noah couldn’t stay away. 

            He’d seen her grow up, transform from a shy teenager into an independent, confident woman. He saw her reject boys and girls who weren’t enough for her, saw her move away to pursue her studies at Harvard. She was away for an entire year, only coming home for the holidays. Noah didn’t see her for over 365 days, missing every chance he had to see her. After so long without seeing her, he grasped why he felt so miserable, why he’d felt like something was missing from the moment she said goodbye at a party and he stood there stupidly waving his hand, wishing her a safe flight and a good time at Harvard. Pathetic, he thought.

            Two summers later, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she joined the band to watch his brother and friends make music or play at nearby venues. She was no longer a teenager. Her hair was trimmed shorter, she had gained some weight and looked healthier, and the color in her cheeks and the spark in her eyes whenever she stared at something that fascinated her didn’t go unnoticed. 

            Noah thought he was out of his mind when he saw that spark every time she looked at him. 

            When the 4th of July came and the group was at a bonfire party by the beach, watching the fireworks, his hand had brushed hers as they stood looking up at the sky. She turned her head to look at him, and the smile she wore lit up his entire world. 

            She was the missing piece in his life, the muse behind all his writings, dreams, and songs.

            Two hours later, as everyone dispersed, he found her alone, sitting by the shore, her arms wrapped around her bent legs. He was the first to notice something wasn’t right. She confided in him: it had been a hard year at school. She wasn’t sure she was good enough or if she wanted to continue her studies. She questioned whether it was truly her path, what she was meant to do. 

            The insecurity wasn’t unfamiliar to Noah. He reassured her it was just a phase, a cloud of self-doubt that had settled over her. 

            “But it’ll soon pass,” he told her, sitting down next to her. “I know how much you love what you’re doing, even if you don’t feel like it right now. You’ve been interested in that field since you were a kid, right?” 

            How did he know that? 

            “Nick,” he said, “he used to mention it a lot.” 

            That was a lie, of course. Noah had been paying attention to her interests since she was barely a teenager, always captivated by her enthusiasm and eagerness to learn new things. 

            By midnight, he let her cry against his shoulder, her face buried in his chest, wearing his hoodie, holding on to him with eyes full of tears. Unexpectedly, she kissed him, then quickly moved away, expecting him to leave, horrified that she had crossed the line. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her flush against him, kissing her back. Not much later, he had her pinned against a street wall after offering to walk her home, his mouth pressing down on hers, one hand cradling her face and the other holding her waist. She kissed him with the same intensity, as if she had been waiting for that moment all her life.

            That’s when she said the same words he was uttering two years later: “This is wrong.”

            It was, but neither of them cared, and so they met again the next day, alone, for a walk on the beach. Noah bought them ice cream and held her hand as they walked barefoot on the sand, the waves lapping at their feet with the Californian sun setting on the horizon. They talked about her studies, about the band, about Nick. They decided to keep this (him and her) a secret. After the evening spent together, he kissed her goodbye and chuckled when she said she wanted to see him again, like this; that she wanted to have him all to herself. 

            He wanted the same.

            It wasn’t the thrill of danger that brought them together; they learned that very quickly. It was a pull that had always been there, perhaps even before she turned eighteen. Noah had only ever had eyes for her, no matter how many other girls came and went. She had always been the girl from his dreams, and he made sure he was in hers from that moment onwards.

            Two years later, she finds herself perched on a piece of furniture at someone’s house. She doesn’t even know the host’s name. Noah doesn’t either. But it’s her last day in California before returning to Boston to complete her degree, and damn it if he’s not going to spend every last minute with her, kissing her.

            The problem?

            Nick is also there.

            For the past two years, they had been meeting in places where Nick wasn’t, at times when he wouldn’t wonder why Noah and his little sister were missing at the same time. It had been hard. The opportunities were few, and even though they never labeled themselves a couple, they behaved like one, even in the dark. Noah would call her right when he knew she was about to sleep, and she would text him updates on her studies and daily life, letting him know she wished he were there with her in Boston. She dreamed of going to cafés together and taking walks along the coast.

            Noah had hoped to make that dream come true more than once, and that one time he took a flight to Boston to surprise her was well worth it. Her roommate was gone for the weekend, and Bad Omens had just returned from an overseas tour. He didn’t hesitate before hopping on another plane just to see her.

            The most memorable moment of that weekend was probably Nick’s unexpected and ill-timed phone call. Noah and she had been lazily lounging on her bed, tangled in each other’s limbs, sharing stories, tender kisses, and innocent touches. When her iPhone’s screen lit up and they read Nick’s name, their hearts skipped a beat.

            “Shit, he said he would call me to discuss our parents’ anniversary,” she groaned, putting a hand to her forehead, cursing her brother for such bad timing. She didn’t want to miss a second with Noah.

            “Pick up, it’s fine,” Noah said, lying on his side with an arm draped across her stomach.

            “What? No. What if he hears you?”

            “I’ll stay as still as a statue.”

            She eyed him suspiciously. She knew him well enough by now to know when he was just pretending to behave. “You promise?”

            He lifted his pinky finger to her.

            With a resigned sigh, she hooked hers with his and a moment later answered Nick’s call.

            Of course, Noah didn’t stay still.

            The moment she sat upright on the bed and greeted her brother, Noah started tickling her. At first, it was just a little, making her squirm and swat at his hand. She was still able to have a normal conversation, but then Noah’s ministrations increased and her laughter couldn’t be contained.

            “What’s going on?” Nick asked from the other side of the phone.

            “Nothing,” she said, trying to kick Noah, but instead, he grabbed her foot and took her sock off before pretending to want to bite her toes.

            “I thought you were in your room.”

            “I am,” she said firmly, sending a stern look to Noah, who lifted his arms and pretended to retreat.

            Pretended. 

            Just when she thought he was finally going to behave, he undid the button of her jeans, eyeing her wickedly as her eyes widened. She mouthed a “no,” but it fell on deaf ears. Noah took off her jeans and removed her underwear. A moment later, he was settled between her legs, his nose brushing her most sensitive area.

            She sucked in a deep breath, thinking she was going to die for more than one reason.

            It was Nick who disconnected the call. The moment he realized she was with a boy, he shouted, “Ugh! You could’ve told me! This is disgusting!” and without a goodbye, he ended the call.

            She was already lost in pleasure. Her iPhone dropped to the floor, and soon enough, all she could utter was Noah’s name over and over again. 

But things weren’t always this beautiful and fun.

            It got hard sometimes. Some nights she cried, and other times Noah was sure she would find someone else—probably another student her age who could take her out on dates and introduce her to his family.

            It had been a struggle, but they fought to make it work. Every time she returned to California, Noah was the one to pick her up at the airport. Nick thought she always took an Uber, completely unaware that his sister had arrived hours earlier and was already in Noah’s bed, savoring the weight of his body on hers, or maybe his tongue between her legs, or the weight of his length in her mouth and his words of praise flooding her senses.

            Despite their deep feelings for each other, maintaining a relationship that they refused to label grew increasingly difficult.

            That’s why tonight they had abandoned all the rules and locked themselves in a room, mere feet away from the rest of the party—and from Nick.

            “I don’t want to go,” she whispers as Noah’s lips trail across her chest. She’s wearing a thin V-neck tank top, and he can’t help but kiss the valley of her breasts.

            “We have to tell Nick,” he murmurs back. “I’m fucking tired of this—of not being able to kiss you in front of everyone, of not being able to follow you wherever you go, of not being able to take you on dates in town.”

            “He’s not going to like it...” she’s half-gone, half-present. She can’t think straight when Noah’s lips and hands are on her. But she’s faintly aware of what he’s saying, of what he’s proposing.

            “Not my fucking problem,” he says, sucking at her sweet spot and making her moan. “I want to be there when you graduate,” he continues, nibbling at her shoulder, “to take pictures of my girl and use them as my wallpaper. I want to take you back to your dorm afterward and give you graduation sex.”

            She snorts, then grabs his face to pull him away from her chest so she can look into his eyes.

            “Graduation sex? Is that even a thing?”

            “I don’t know,” he admits, smiling with eyes full of adoration, “but I’m willing to make it a thing.”

            After a moment of staring at each other, their eyes soften.

            “I want you to be there more than anything,” she admits.

            “Then we have to tell him,” he concludes. “It’s time.”

            She can do nothing but agree. He’s right. At some point, Nick needs to know, and so do the rest of their friends and family.

            Noah hasn’t said he loves her yet, and neither has she, but isn’t it obvious? At least, that’s what she likes to think. She knows she’s been in love with him for years but hasn’t mustered the courage to tell him. A devil on her shoulder keeps whispering that he’s an artist, a rockstar. What if he eventually gets tired of her? They’re on very different career paths. What if he chooses to let her go?

            If Noah senses her sudden distress, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he leans down again to capture her lips, his hand creeping up her thigh beneath the black skirt she’s wearing. His tongue is about to dance with hers when the door swings open.

            “Noah, have you seen my sister?” 

            It’s Nick. 

            The room is dark, but it’s obvious he’s going to find out in the next two seconds. “She’s been missing since...”

            As they pull away from each other, her face comes into view. Nick’s eyes widen, but he’s frozen in place. She jumps down from where she’s seated, and Noah steps back, putting some distance between them.

            “Nick...” Noah starts, lifting an arm.

            For a moment, no one says anything. The heavy music from the party thumps in the background.     Nick’s hand is still on the doorknob, and he suddenly looks paler.

            It doesn’t take much for him to understand. It’s the aura of comfort surrounding his best friend and his sister, the confidence exuding from them the moment he caught them, the shared look they exchanged a moment ago. This has been going on for a long time, right? They’ve been seeing each other behind his back. Who knows what things Noah has done to her?

            Nick’s throat tightens. When he’s able to react, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

            “Fuck,” Noah mutters, making a move to go after him, but she stops him.

            “Let me,” she says. “He’s my brother. I’ll handle him.”

            She searches for Nick for five minutes until she finds him outside, sitting on the pavement with a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t care about her apologies, her stories, her feelings for his best friend, or the fact that they were planning to tell him soon. He doesn’t want to listen.

            It shouldn’t be like this. It should have never been like this. Not Noah and her. Not ever. They lied to him, deceived him to his face, kept it a secret. How many times had they laughed behind his back?

            He’s never going to forgive them.

            “Please, listen to me,” she begs.

            He continues with his back to her, refusing to face her, to see her expression of guilt—or perhaps the lack thereof. Maybe she doesn’t feel guilty, which just makes it worse. 

            “I hope you’ve enjoyed this game,” he says, a cloud of smoking leaving his lips.

            She’s confused for a second, then she understands: Nick is not going to believe whatever she says about her feelings. He also thinks that Noah is not the kind of guy to have just one girl. Nick has had to deal with the version of Noah that she and he had decided he would show in front of others: one totally uninterested in the little sister and completely into every girl they met at the club. 

            Nick thinks Noah is a bad influence on her, that he’s going to break her heart.

            “It’s not a fucking game,” a voice says from behind them. She turns around and finds Noah approaching. She wants to tell him to stay away, to let her handle it, but she knows Noah is more stubborn than she is and won’t let her deal with this alone. “It’s never been.”

            That elicits a reaction from Nick. He chuckles, a sarcastic sound, and stands up to face them both, letting his unfinished cigarette fall on the ground.

            “You’re a fucking Casanova, Noah. Playing with girls is all you do.”

            “I’m not that kind of man,” he says, sternly, maintaining his cool.

            She was about to let panic take over, but Noah was keeping his composure on check, even though they’d both been scared of this moment for weeks, months, years. 

            “You’re not?” Nick’s voice drips with cynicism. “How the fuck am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe that you’re not using her?! That you didn’t get into her head and are playing with her?! That you’re not going to break her heart the moment you get what you fucking want?!”

            His words sting her, as they do Noah. He wants to tell Nick that he’s completely wrong, but it’s not his fault. He and she had made her brother believe that he was that exact type of man to avoid him finding out about them, but now the consequences are showing. 

            Instead of trying to explain or justify himself in any way, Noah just says what he should have said long ago, what he should have told her. He’s honest and raw. He’s admitting what he should’ve admitted even before he had her naked under him for the first time. 

            When she hears him, all the fear she’s ever had about the boy she loves disappears, because finally, she knows he feels the same, that all that connection they’ve had and built for years has been real.

            “I’m in love with her.”

            It just a sentence, but it changes everything. 

Taglist: @crossedxoceans | @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 35

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: ah, we arrive at the Odinson stronghold.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Remember the rules, pet," Mr. Laufeyson reminds you as you pass beneath an iron archway covered in ivy and roses. 

"Yes..." your voice trails off as your mouth falls open in awe.

It's a fairytale. Even more beautiful than his own garden. There's a fountain at the center of the long drive, round hedges framing it and mosaic stone all around. Petals flutter on bushes and grass sprawls all around, marble statues and stone benches speckled over the expanse. The house is built of white brick with figures of sprites and elk along the facade.

"...Mr. Laufeyson," you finish breathily.

"Yes, it is rather marvelous," he says without genuine reverence. "I assume mother will be using it as her venue for Walpurgisnacht, however, she may just as easily book the banquet hall in the next city."

"Oh," you utter.

"Not to worry, she will likely have much sorted out already. It's why I wonder at her insistence that you accompany me. She is ever decisive and much prefers doing things by her own hand," he steers around the curve of the drive and stops just before the steps. "Suppose we must take it in stride."

He flips the engine and it quiets. Birds cheep and insects hum just outside. He unclicks his seatbelt and you mirror him, climbing out just a hair after he does. You turn to gape up at the facade once more as you shut the door gently.

Mr. Laufeyson comes around and heaves, "well, then--"

"Should I get the bags?"

"Don't bother, the help will deal with it," he assures and points you ahead.

He walks beside you, stretching his neck as he pushes his head side to side. He extends his fingers and rolls his shoulders. Still the tension nestles once more in his posture. You take the steps one at a time and fall a pace behind him. He marches ahead to the doors and waits for you to catch up before he pulls it open.

You step inside and quickly slip off your shoes as you eye the shining floor. It's just as immaculate, if not more, than his estate. You try to imagine how long it would take you to clean it on your own. Maybe that's why you're here.

"Darlings," Frigga trills as she appears in an archway to your left, "oh, you have arrived."

She goes to you first and kisses both your cheeks, barely glancing off your chin. Then she turns to Laufeyson and cradles his cheeks as she admires him, "I'm so happy you came."

"Mmm, and father knows we were invited?"

"Of course," she tuts as she draws away from him, "tell me, have you eaten? You were on the road such a long time. I have cucumber sandwiches and some iced berry tea."

"I'm not hungry," Laufeyson mutters as he peers around, almost expectantly.

"What about you, hon?" She takes your hand.

"Um, I..." you look to Laufeyson for your answer but your stomach growls before you can answer. 

"Feed her," he says as he flutters his fingers, "get her settled. I think I can keep myself entertained."

You frown guiltily. You didn't mean to disobey him. His eyes dull with that unimpressed haze as he turns on his heel and strides away. 

"I believe your brother is outside," she calls after him.

"Thank you for warning me," Laufeyson as he scoffs and disappears through another doorway.

"Ugh, boys," she chides, "pray you only ever have one son, though a brood is never a bad thing."

She turns, her hand still around yours as she drags you through the gilded archway. You let her as you drink in the beauty around every corner and crevice. This is like a dream. You've never seen anything like it. Not outside movies. You remember that one you watched on cable with Anne Hathaway. You only saw half before your father shut it off.

"Please sit," she takes you to the long white island and gestures to a tall velvet stool, "Loki didn't say if you were coming or not. I'm so happy you did."

She releases you and goes to the other counter, takes a scalloped plate and fills it with all sorts of food from platters. She brings it to you and watches you across the narrow island. "So, tomorrow, I must look at flowers. We have a healthy supply in the greenhouse but I think a few exotic breeds would do well. Then we will go to the bakery to arrange desserts and the like. Oh, the winery may need to wait until Sunday..."

She tallies off her to-dos as you nod along. Her own long list jumbles with your own in your head. You blink at her as she prattles on.

"Darling, please eat," she interrupts herself, "anyhow, as I was saying, perhaps we could make a special day of it. A day at the winery then the spa."

You nibble on the corner of the cucumber sandwich, grateful for the excuse not to respond. You doubt she'd hear you if you did. Your stomach roars in delight as you feed it, only then realising how hungry you truly are. You weren't very concerned with your appetite as the motion of the car roiled your stomach but now, you're ravenous.

Your mind wanders back to the long drive. You turn your gaze away, afraid Frigga might see your thoughts. The same sets in as the memory sinks in your brain. You can't believe you did that to him. While he was driving, too.

"Oh, goodness me, you must be so tired and hear I am blabbing your ear off," she clucks, "I forgot the tea... unless you prefer wine."

"Tea," you answer abruptly, recalling the last time you drank. You won't give Mr. Laufeyson any reason for distaste. "Thank you."

"Aw, so polite, dear," she preens, "are you excited for Walpurgisnacht?"

You twist your lips and swallow a mouthful, "um, sure... what is it?"

"My, I didn't even think," she pours a glass of deep red iced tea into a tall glass. She nears you again and places it by your plate. "May Eve. It's a celebration of Springtime, to embrace love and fertility."

"Mm, oh," you furrow your brow. That's odd.

"Yes, we will have many visitors to help us celebrate. And some games too. Mostly drinking and food, as is our way," she explains, "I can't believe this will be your first Walpurgisnacht! How delightful."

You nod and take another bite. It's almost nice how she assumes most things aren't a first for you. How she treats you like somehow you belong here.

"I didn't even think," she taps her manicured finger on the marble, "I should've invited your father. I know he's sick but it is always good to have family close."

You almost choke. You gulp and lower your eyes. You reach for the tea to wash away the sudden bitter taste on your tongue.

"Oh, I hope... I hope he is okay," she says.

"He's... he's fine," you sniff, "he's... mad at me. We aren't... we aren't speaking."

"How tragic," she touches her chest, "Loki didn't say a word. Well, then... dear, are you alright? Where are you staying?"

Your chest sinks. Of course, he wouldn't talk to her about you and explain everything that's gone rotten. You are still just the house manager to her.

"Mr. Laufeyson kindly offered--"

"Oh, I know, I know he would," she sounds ready to cry, "my son can be so caring. It's a pity he holds it in."

"Yeah, uh, it's very nice of him," you pick away a stip of crust.

"I didn't mean to bring up sour grapes," she says, "I'm sure everything will be alright. These things happen. Families fight but they always come back together. Gosh, if only you knew the state Loki left in last time. He and his father had such a row. Not to mention he wouldn't even speak with his own brother for well over a year. Stubborn."

You look at her in surprise. It's not that Laufeyson isn't cold and distant, it's just that you didn't expect all that information dumped on you. You want to ask why but know better than that.

"I only hope things go better this time," she says.

You nod and pick up a grape from the plate. You really hope so too. As long as you follow the rules, it should.

✨

After you eat, Frigga takes you on a tour of the immense house. You don’t remember where most things are as you remain astonished by the grandeur. You can barely imagine spending the night. The thought that she lives here every day is astounding. She is the luckiest woman in the world.

She takes you up the wide staircase with its curved banisters and shows you the upper floor. You yawn behind your hand, caught as she peeks back at you. You drop your hand and smile, flicking your eyes as you try to seem more awake.

“Oh dear, are you tired?” She preens, “let us show you your room.”

“It’s okay–”

“Rest is important, and a part of Walpurgisnacht. It’s about renewal so you must take care,” she reproaches, “I made up a room just for you.”

“You did?” You murmur as she waves you ahead.

“Oh, yes, of course, like I said, I’ve been looking forward to this very much,” she chimes, “just here,” she opens the left side of a double door. You admire the patterns carved beneath the layer of champagne-tinted paint. “I believe the staff will have brought your bags already.”

“Um, thank you,” you smile nervously, “it’s all very wonderful…” You gaze around the room, “it’s too much.”

“Not at all,” she touches your arm gently, “I know my son can be a stickler, whoever knows where he got that from. You are here to enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks,” you rub your palms together, “for everything. It’s so nice.”

“Certainly dear,” she touches your cheek gently, “should you need anything, you can tap this button.” She points to a tiny silver button by the light switch, “Hilde will be around.”

“Hilde,” you nod, “okay. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you are so sweet,” she preens, “please don’t hesitate to ask for anything.” She squeezes your shoulder, “please make yourself at home.”

She leaves you with a gentle click of the door. You hesitate at the threshold, terrified of tainting the perfection of the room. There’s a four-postered bed, the sort you dreamed about as a girl, with a white frame and bedding in the same hue, trimmed in silver. The night tables have curled feet and a matching wardrobe stands against the wall. 

There’s a vase of flowers arranged on the vanity and a rug with dainty roses patterned on it beneath the foot of the bed. Each piece matches the next, gilded in silver, with a touch of colour here and there. The windows are tall and open, letting in the last of the morning hues. You are overwhelmed with the sheer beauty of this place.

Your luggage stands beside the bed. Just yours. Does that mean you’ll be sleeping alone? Perhaps that is for the better. It wouldn’t be seemly for Mr. Laufeyson to be commingling so closely with his house manager.

You should find him and let him know which room is yours. You go to the door and stop yourself. It feels wrong to go off roving through the house. No, you should stay and listen. You’re certain he wouldn’t be far from you. That only makes sense, doesn’t it?

You linger by the door, ear to the crack between the doors as you listen to the house. Nothing more than a distance scuff here or there. Not until you hear hinges catch for just a moment. You hold your breath and try to see between the doors but can’t.

Footsteps, long and deliberate. That has to be Laufeyson, right? You hope that it is. You wait for them to pass before you open the door and peek out. Oh no! It’s not Mr. Laufeyson.

Before you can retreat and hide, the gray-haired man stops. He has broad shoulders and his arms are bent behind him, one hand balled in another. You gulp and slowly pull back but it’s too late as the man pivots on his heel.

“I suppose my son told you it was best to avoid me,” the man says, his tone rigid but not unkind.

“Um,” you let go of the door and step up, slumping your shoulders as you stare at his suede slippers. “No, sir, I only… thought you were Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” he scoffs, “you must be the one my wife spoke so highly of.”

“Sir,” you dip your head lower.

“Odin,” he offers as he comes closer, little by little, as if approaching a skittish deer, “father of Mr. Laufeyson,” he snorts and offers his hand, “and your name?”

You accept his hand meekly and mutter your name. He grips you firmly, warmly and gives a short shake. He keeps a hold of your hand and turns it, placing his other hand over your knuckles.

“Let me have a look at you,” he urges you into the hall, “my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

You let him lead you further out. You bite your lip and exhale. You unpinch your teeth and lift your head. You look at him, squirming as he considers you. His steely hair is brushed back from his face and small coils gather behind his ears and neck. His eyes are blue and vibrant, like Thor’s, and his face is creased with and determination.

“Now,” he smiles, “how did my son capture a lovely creature like you?”

“Sir?”

“Please, Odin will do nicely,” he pats your hand, “may I use your name?”

“Yes, s– Yes, Odin,” you correct yourself.

“Wonderful, it’s a beautiful name,” he brings your hand up and kisses it, “it fits you well.”

He finally lets you go and you feel your cheek burn. You don’t know how to react. With everything you heard, you expected a horrible, grumpy old man. Someone like your own father. Yet, he’s just as pleasant as Frigga. 

“Thank you,” your lips curve just a little.

“Polite little thing,” he muses, “do you like chocolate?”

“Pardon?” You’re taken aback by his question.

“Chocolate,” he repeats, “Loki hasn’t much of a sweet tooth and the other one would devour them all. I’ve got some truffles, would you like one?”

“Well, I… er,” you rub your neck, “I wouldn’t want to bother,” you stammer.

“Bother? Why ever would I ask if it was?” He dismisses, “you are my guest, I do prefer to know those who are staying under my roof. I would be a shit guest otherwise.”

You scrunch your lips up at his profanity. He notices the wince and he chuckles, bring his fingertips to his chin, “excuse my language.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “um, sure, I will have some chocolate… Odin.”

“Ah, wonderful, just this way,” he points you towards the other end of the hall, “this is part of the trap you see,” he says as he ushers you along, “I keep them in my office.”

He laughs and you join in thinly. You’re not sure he’s entirely kidding. He shows you into his office. The decor is wrought in gold and oak. It reminds you a little of Laufeyson’s study in the style, but not the colours.

“You will have your chocolate,” he assures as he closes the door, “but first, you will tell me how you ended up with that son of mine.” He strides around the desk as you hover across from him. He pulls out a drawer as you clasp your hands tight. You can’t tell him everything.

“How…” you utter.

“Yes,” he pulls out a square red box, “he hardly seems your type.”

“Oh, well, I am only his house manager,” you shrug.

“Sure, if that’s what he tells you to say, say it,” he tuts, “but it doesn’t mean I must believe it.”

You drop your head and frown. You’re a poor liar but you don’t dare tell the truth. He sighs and you peek up from under your lashes.

“Not to worry, I keep a promise,” he comes around and offers the open box of truffles, “this one is dark with raspberry, you might like it? Or this one, strawberry and cream,” he points to a dark bulb, then a white one sprinkled with pink sugar, “perhaps you will surprise me.”

You shyly reach for the box and pick out the plainest of the bunch. You thank him quietly and stare at the treat. He knows you’re lying and he’s still being kind. You wish you could tell him the truth, maybe he could help you understand it. Yet, the thought of saying it all out loud suffocates you in flames.

“Crushed toffee,” he says, “my favourite.”

“Oh, uh,” you hold it out.

“No, no, you have it,” he insists as he strolls back around his desk, “I am hardly interested in talking about my son, so let us not dwell on him. Tell me about you.”

“Me?” You blink.

“Yes. Do you read? Do you enjoy music? What are your favourites?”

You stand there, holding the truffle, speechless. You don’t know what to say. You are boring. No one ever cared about any of those things, so much so, that you never much thought of them yourself.

“Please, sit,” he takes his own advice and lowers himself into the leather chair, “enjoy your chocolate, then you may answer my questions.”

[kunikinnie]

a/n: the angst writer lives!! this has been in my wips for a long time and just decided to finish it (sorry that Kunikida's is much longer than the others lol)

warnings: some profanity

watching you marry someone else

featuring: Kunikida, Akutagawa, Fukuzawa, Fitzgerald x F!Reader

Kunikida Doppo

a/n: based on my aunt's story + this is sort of a sequel to this short fic

He didn't know why he came here. Was it because the entire Agency attended? Most likely, but he's not quite sure himself.

It might be wrong for him to be here in the first place. It was he who dumped you, after all. But he supposed that your working relationship after that wasn't too strained - if anything, it seemed you were still good friends. Perhaps your romantic history had been superseded by your more recent interactions, so there's nothing for him to be worried about.

The venue of your wedding was an excellent choice. Nothing flashy yet elegant, and the decorations were quite refined. It seemed well-planned as well. He mentally took notes for his own - if he were ever to have one, that is. At the back of his mind old drafts of the wedding you two could've had suddenly reappeared along with old memories that should've long been forgotten.

Fortunately the pain growing in his chest stopped momentarily when you finally appeared at the entrance. His eyes widened, shocked at how beautiful you looked. It was perfect. From the way your dress showed off your figure in all the right places to the way your hair fell lovingly on your shoulders to the way the sunlight emphasized the brightness of your eyes - it was truly perfect.

Somehow he imagined it was him you were walking to. It was as if his greatest dream was suddenly becoming a reality, and the ideal life he had been chasing for so long was finally within his grasp. The millisecond-long glance you showed him felt like you were intently gazing at him for hours.

But the harsh truth came crashing down as you continued to walk past him. The moment your eyes met the grooms', Kunikida saw the invisible link you two had. It was something to admire, really, but also something to be envious about.

The pain in his chest returned with ten times the force it had earlier. As the minutes passed so did his frustration rise, and every thought he had from the moment you two broke up - no, from the very first time you two met each other suddenly overwhelmed him.

Kunikida loved you so much. Nothing has changed and it never will. If he simply never became ambitious, if he simply never lied to himself, if he simply never trusted his stupid brain over his heart then maybe-

"Kunikida-san, there's an emergency at the office."

Tanizaki's whisper caught him off-guard. But within seconds he recomposed himself. Although the wedding was far from over, duty came first.

He discreetly said goodbye to his coworkers and silently left the venue with his junior. Of course, he stole one last glance at you before finally leaving.

Surprisingly Tanizaki took the wheel, but Kunikida paid it no mind as seconds could not be wasted when more urgent matters were at hand.

"What's the situation like? What happened?"

Strangely, the younger detective continued to drive off in silence.

"Oi, Tanizaki. Didn't you hear me?"

The more he hesitated, the more the older detective became suspicious. What the hell was he up to?

"A-actually," Tanizaki finally replied. "Nothing happened. It's just that Dazai-san said-"

"What?!"

"I-I mean we could all feel it, Kunikida-san. We thought you just needed some space to let it all out."

"There's no need." He sighed heavily. "Really, you're all worried for nothing. We should head back."

Still, he did not stir. "They'll be exchanging vows by the time we get back."

It was Kunikida's turn to be silent. Even if the car continued to travel further away from your wedding, it was almost as if he could hear those vows being recited right in front of him.

His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, focusing on nothing in particular. A single tear fell down his cheek which he promptly wiped off with the back of his hand.

"It's okay, senpai. You can pretend I'm not here."

Kunikida wasn't sure why he broke at those words. It was quite unbecoming of a senior to show his emotions this openly to a coworker, let alone someone much younger than him.

Yet the tears won't stop coming. It was as if the frustration that built up across the years finally let itself free. When was he ever honest about his feelings on the matter? When has he ever shared the truth with anyone, even with himself? The bitterness at each sob was so great that he was sure his voice would be hoarse by the next day.

His ideals should've brought you happiness - that's the most fundamental rule he completely forgot. Yet maybe it was his failure in keeping that that ironically brought you to the one who will truly bring you everlasting joy. He'd have to learn to accept this fact, even if it meant forgetting the what-ifs, even if it meant letting you go, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

The whole place was so... bright. Everything was white and fluffy, from the flowers on the aisle to the lights hanging on the trees. It was strange. It felt like he was in a children's book.

How unfitting for someone like him whose very being was, in essence, black. From his hair to his shoes, his coat, and perhaps even his soul.

But it's not like the guests noticed a shadow silently standing between other shadows. If anything, his whole outfit made him blend into the background perfectly as he intended. After all, Akutagawa wasn't in the strictest sense (or perhaps even loosest sense) invited to your wedding. He peeked behind the trees blocking your own little heaven from the noise of hell-like earth.

In fact, he could barely see what was happening. People in light colored formal garb, both male and female, the groom sporting something that stood out even more from the guests - he felt dizzy just looking at the scene.

But the moment you stepped in, all the color and light seemed to dim. Your white dress dazzled in the sunlight and your face shone brighter than he remembered. Has it really been so long since you last met?

All he could do was stare at you from the shadows. Your light was so blinding to his darkness, yet his eyes refused to shift their focus. How could he, when he knew that this would probably be the last time he'd ever see you?

You were better off without him. If you stayed with him, your smile would never be like the one you wore now. It's not like he could ever force himself upon you, either, even if it seemed that you cared for him more than anyone should have-

His chest began to throb painfully. The searing pain was much greater than most attacks he's had, rendering him almost completely helpless. Shit. If someone were to attack now, he'd be dead. Or if he were to give himself away and you spot him - ugh. He'd rather die.

Akutagawa struggled to walk away slowly, deciding to forget everything he saw there. It didn't do anything good for him. Why did he even decide to come here? Was he such a masochist to remember everything "good" you ever brought into his life? Wasn't it enough that he'd dream of you more often than he'd like, only to wake up in total darkness?

Each step he took triggered a memory for him. Each smile, each laugh, each embrace that you so cruelly bestowed upon him felt more real than the scene he just witnessed. Your... love had not yet disappeared, at least not in his mind, and how dearly he wished he could've relished in it a little bit more before it truly faded away.

Still, he was somewhat thankful he didn't. If it were granted, he would've craved your love more and left him with more pain in the end.

He still had that stupid sunflower keychain you gave him. It was a small crocheted piece, tattered but still quite vibrant in its colors. He never understood why you gave him that specifically in the first place. He only knew that you wanted it to make him happy.

Well, it still somewhat accomplishes that goal. It's the only physical remembrance of you he still has left, after all.

But like the sunflower that dies without the warmth of sunlight, he promised to let his feelings wither along with the memory of your smile.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Unspoken words last longer. Deny it as much as he'd like, the truth is Fukuzawa's feelings for you had only grown deeper as the years passed by and only now did he wholeheartedly regret not telling you sooner.

He'd convinced himself that being friends - no, best friends was the best thing that could've happened between the two of you. No matter how much time was spent away from the other, each moment you two had together was only made more precious; it was as if you had never been separated in the first place.

All your dreams, all your hurts, all your pains - everything, he knew. And it was mostly true vice versa, except for that one very fact that stubbornly kept secret all this time.

He wasn't sure if he was truly glad to have been invited to your wedding. Sure, it was an intimate friends-and-family-only occasion that he was honored to be part of, yet the meant having to face the ultimate reality that he had for so long ignored.

He was present at your side of the wedding preparations. While others were scurrying along to bring you things you needed, he stood idly as clueless as ever. Maybe he should've just headed directly to the venue instead...

Suddenly, you requested him to enter your room. Well, if he could finally be useful then what was he to-

Astonished isn't even enough to describe his reaction. His hand froze on the doorknob the moment his eyes landed on you. Were you always this beautiful? Because it felt almost wrong to look at you, especially when his heart was holding things it shouldn't be.

"Hi Yu-kun," you spoke as usual. "I hope I'm not bothering you." Of course you're not a bother. You could never be a bother. "Just wanted a little chat to ease the anxiety, you know? My mind's been all over the place since last night."

You began spilling out of some of your true feelings - or perhaps intrusive thoughts is the better term. Worries about how you looked, how the guests were feeling, but most importantly worries about the future occupied your headspace.

He did his best to comfort you in his own way. Pre-marriage jitters are completely normal, and there was nothing he'd do to ease your nerves, wedding at hand or not.

"Actually... there's something I want to ask you. Before everything, you know, gets set in place..."

From that it was his turn to get nervous. He had an inkling as to what you were going to ask, and he wasn't sure if was ready to handle where this was going. He held his breath as each syllable escaped your lips.

"D-did you really... did you really never-"

"It seems they're looking for you, Y/N."

No, he was not ready. He couldn't be honest to you right now. How could you ask him now of all times? But at least he did not lie with his 'excuse' - you did have to leave soon and head to the wedding.

Without a hitch, everything went as planned. You walked down the aisle with all your loveliness, took the hand of the love of your life, and exchanged vows with him. Everything went so smoothly Fukuzawa nearly forgot about your earlier conversation.

It was during your dance with your now husband that he remembered everything. He silently watched the way your skirt flowed with every gentle step you took. Would he ever have been lucky to have danced with you like this had he been honest earlier?

Perhaps. But at this point, should he even think about that? He wished for nothing more than a peaceful married life for you, and disturbing that with a belated confession would do no good. That's why he dodged your question - not that he was worried your relationship with him would strain somehow.

Well, it's not like you actually asked him the question about that. He just assumed that's where it would go. And he's just assuming that you too had feelings for him that never went anywhere because of his own cowardice.

Agh. Maybe he should have waited for you to finish speaking. That way he'd never be left with unanswered questions and that he could have the closure he needed.

The night ended with neither of you bringing up what happened in the dressing room. You'd never bring it up in the future either, and in a way spared Fukuzawa half the pain. Seeing you happy, albeit with another man, was more than enough to satisfy his aching heart.

Francis Scott Fitzgerald

You two were quite young when he fell madly in love with you. But unlike youth, Francis was convinced his love for you would never go away. You didn't seem to agree, however.

Time can be cruel. He'd been working his ass off just to make a future with you possible - not just so that he could live another day, but also so that he could provide the future you wanted. So why? Why didn't you wait for him to come back?

In a way, he blames you for it. You could've been at least a little more patient. He never lied to you when he said he's been spending most of his waking time at work, or that not for a second did he forget why he was working so hard to begin with: to be with you and only you.

Yet for the most part, he blames himself. Had he been more efficient, he would've earned more and been able to return to your arms. Perhaps he could have gone down a different route that would've made him financially secure faster. Maybe you also felt unloved as he had little time for you - had he addressed your emotional needs better perhaps this story would have a different ending.

No. The story had yet to end. You loved him the way he loved you, right? You didn't lie to him, did you? So he still had a chance before you finally tied the knot - all he had to do was make it in time.

He'd raise an objection at the marriage. You'd suddenly snap your head to the source of the voice and meet his eyes, then you'd run into his arms and envelope him in your loving embrace, asking him why he only came back for you now. "I missed you so much," you'd say as he'd sweetly kiss your forehead like he did so many times in the past.

But he didn't make it in time. As he ran to the entrance the ceremony had already finished, and lavishly dressed guests were leaving to make it to the reception. That's alright, he said to himself, maybe he could still convince you if only he could meet you during the reception somehow.

The opportunity never came, however. He followed the trail of guests to the banquet your now husband without doubt had prepared for you. Francis recognized some of your favorite dishes among those being served, and it slowly broke his heart seeing how this new man of yours took good care of you.

He finally saw you seated beside your husband, dolled up perfectly to the role of a rich businessman's wife. He would've wanted to enter the hall and try to approach you, but the guards wouldn't let him take a single step inside.

There was still the end of the reception, right? Just one moment with you was all he needed. Good Lord, please just grant him this one opportunity to talk to you, even if there was no chance of getting back together with you. Francis just had to know - he just needed to talk to you one last time.

You finally left the venue, but there was no opening for him. You couldn't even spare him a glance. It was already hard for him to take one last proper look at you, so imagine how much harder would it be to talk to you again.

He couldn't sleep properly that night. The tears silently flowed down as he gently clutched a picture of yours, pretending that you were right beside him caressing his hand.

Why did everything go wrong? Why did nothing go his way? Was he truly a nobody, even to you, the love of his life?

From then on he vowed to make himself a man worthy enough to stand on your level. Someday he'd be able to speak to you once more, and the time will come when he'd provide you a better life than what even your filthy rich husband could. Someday, you'd learn to love him again.

taglist: @stygianoir, @requiem626k , @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @renaxnnas, @kunikida-simp, @fyodorisbbg

[semisgroupie]

sponsor a wip for Gaza

❀ hi everyone! I will be participating in @ficsforgaza’s option of sponsor a wip! I’m not too sure how this might go but I’m really excited to participate in this. for more information check their page here

AMOUNT DONATED: $25

How it works:

make a donation to aiding Gaza and then you will send me a screenshot of your donated amount (blocking any/all personal information) and you will let me know which fic you will be sponsoring

ex: hi venus! I donated $5 to support for hisham’s recovery and I would like to sponsor ‘let the right one in’

I will not be posting any ask/dm sent and I will update the word count for my wips below and keep a progress tracker for how much has been donated!

My rate is $1 for every 100 words (so $5 = 500 words, $10 = 1000 words, etc) and my limit is $10 simply because I don’t want to become overwhelmed

my current wips up for sponsorship:

❀ hotwife adventures: the musician - nanami kento x fem. reader x choso kamo

the second installment of hotwife adventures!

expected wc: ~3.5k

current wc: 77 words

sponsored wc:

❀ such a needy puppy - puppyboy!isagi yoichi x fem. reader

isagi is such a good boy, always so attentive, loves cuddles, doesn’t rip up shoes or your furniture but he can get quite insatiable

expected wc: ~2k

current wc: 17 words

sponsored wc:

❀ domestic bliss - toji fushiguro x fem. reader

toji fushiguro loves his new wife so much, he just can't control himself when he's around you (for the enchanted forest network's spring feelings collab)

expected wc: ~2.5k

current wc: 66 words

sponsored wc:

❀ kiss and say goodbye — rin itoshi x fem. reader ANGST AND SMUT

it’s for the best, you have to let each other go but you have to enjoy him one last time

expected wc: ~3k

current wc: 714 words

sponsored wc:

❀ untitled piece - piano instructor!rose otoribashi x fem. reader

your piano instructor plans to switch up his teaching techniques with you, maybe this time all the things he's taught you will stick (for blondes have more fun collab)

expected wc: ~2.5k

current wc: 0 words

sponsored wc:

completed works:

❀ let the right one in - stalker!aizen sosuke x fem. reader - DARK CONTENT

you met him during a speed dating event. it only took a few minutes for him to become obsessed with you and his infatuation knows no limits

expected wc: ~3k

FINAL wc: 4056 words

sponsored wc: 2500 (2500/2500 written)

[bearwithegg]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Tagged by my beautiful moonchild @venomnyx

A lil sneak peak of my Jordan Li x F!reader oneshot, the vibe is Black Cat Partner and their weird plant gf. I still have SO much to write (Im fighting imposter syndrome rn) This reader goes out to all my gentle souls out there જ⁀➴ ♡

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

And then you noticed their, quite frankly, foul mood and the first thing you did was thrust a ceramic pot aptly labeled ‘Larry’ in their hands that housed a Venus Fly Trap, “Hold Larry — you’ll feel better.” You said to them, eyes still twinkling with kindness yet voice firm and unwavering. (Even then you still sounded so nice — unfuckingbelievable.)

They argued, because of course they did, “I’m not holding the plant,” their voice was flat and they looked at you a little incredulously as if you were weird — you were, but that was neither here nor there.

“Larry,” you politely corrected, “he’s really funny and a good listener.”

It was a fucking plant, they thought, frown still etched into their face and a scoff falls from their lips, how does a plant even listen?

“Take him — you’re dripping negative energy all over my plants and they don’t like it,” you held out the pot with that look on your face that said ‘don’t test me’ and they didn't, surprisingly. Biting their tongue, humouring you and taking the plant even if they thought it was stupid.

Eyes cast down at the little mouths of ‘Larry’ and wondering how doing this made any sane person feel better. Obviously the plant wasn't going to talk to them, but with how weird you were they almost expected it to.

They had been so focused on how stupid they felt they forgot to be annoyed… So maybe the damn plant did help, not that they'd say it outloud or ever for that matter.

And then you smiled, again, head tilted to the side with that glimmer of pure kindness evident in your eyes, “feel better?” Voice even more gentle than your hands as you slowly take the pot from their fingers and place it back on the desk.

“He thinks you have issues but don't take it too personally, he thinks the same about me.”

They scoffed at that remark and the rest was history.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

I don’t have tags but if you come across this and feel my spiritual being possess you to post a WIP then please DO જ⁀➴ ♡

[alastor-simp-page]

#wip wednesday

Context: old gay men yaoi however not radioapple. SATAN X LUCIFER. Or lucitan. idk trying to come up with a ship name. Takes place after mastermind and spawned in after a what if question.

also two hot demons? millennia old beef? two big egos? a power struggle? (again, speculation)

SAY LESS

also gimme some time tho i'm desperately trying to fight my way out of writer's block STILL

without furthur adieu the yapping has ceased (under the gif is the little pathetic attempt at writing)

Lucifer POV (for context):

Did those fuckers even miss him? He hadn’t received a single text message about these Infernal Trials.  

Lucifer picked up his phone and swiped into the 7 Deadly Sins Group Chat. A chat that had been silent since 1669. However, the mini group chat without that ass wipe, Mammon constantly being a huge douche was not. As a matter of fact, his little “friend group” were chatting about an upcoming meeting. In…”THIRTY MINUTES?”

He still didn’t have a clue why they kept including him in these chats. Ah, and douche bag numero dos is typing. Satan was rambling on about the trail, the time, the place, the venue, the seating, blah, blah, blah. Who cared? Well…what people cared who mattered? Lucifer blinked a few times, his fingers hovering over the message bar. Did he matter to them anymore? 

That thought struck a rather nasty chord in his heart. His face twisted and he tossed the phone a few inches away from his head. It had been a while since he had done…anything. Anything remotely important. For the last few hundreds years he had been killing time…and it never seemed to fucking drop dead. His gaze scanned over his embarrassing messy room. The dresser had overturned makeup supplies with used makeup removers balled up into a mountain next to it. The work station, God, he didn’t even want to talk about it. It was all in all, a safety hazard with multiple razor sharp tools on the plush and unvacuumed floor, open paint bottles, stale paint water glistening under the Hell Sun and about a few hundred half finished rubber ducks glaring back at him. 

He wanted to scream yet he couldn’t find the voice. How fucking pathetic was he? His wife left him, his daughter estranged, his once close friend group he willingly isolated himself from. And the sinners? Fuck the sinners. Naive Lucifer all those thousands of years ago thought he could make a change for humanity however they fucked it up. He let them run wild and they burned down the world. The worst part? Dear old weary Lucifer was forced to live amongst the ramble even if he chose to distance himself as much as he could. 

There was no avoiding the Hell grocery store which, by Golly, was real Hell. The parking lot, the screaming children, the constant honking and bitching customers. He had to give it to the Wrath hellborn A Team for creating such a horrid thing, nothing beats a grocery store parking lot on a Sunday morning. 

Well, maybe war crimes and mosquitos but that was beside the point.

And that reminded him: Satan. The other deadly sins. The downright audacity to not invite him to an Infernal Trial in God knows how long. 

“You know what…FUCK IT!” Lucifer declared, digging into his shirt for his smushed pajama collar and straightening it out with his claws. With a skip in his step, he leapt up to his feet and crossed eagerly over to the dresser. Sitting there in all its glory: his wondrous iconic hat. Licking his fingers and slicking back his fluffed up blonde hair, he set the hat upon his head, smirking into the ever so flattering mirror that ogled back. “It’s about time I show them who's boss, hm?” 

[povlnfour]

for the wip game: la vie boheme (LH44) 👀

oooh i’m glad someone asked abt this🥹 this one is very close to my heart but a little different than the regular! it’s based a lot on my own local arts district growing up, but is influenced by the musical ‘rent’🫶

from the wip game

ੈ✩‧₊˚ LA VIE BOHEME — LH44 WIP

pairing: lewis hamilton x f!artist!reader

summary: lewis had his visit to new york planned out. fancy hotels, lunch reservations, and instagram content worthy of appeasing his agent. if only he knew it would only take one charismatic artist, determined to protect her part of the city, would uproot all of his plans (and maybe his heart)

— lewis had seen nightlife before. he’d seen it on every scale, from grandiose hotel suites turned into venues, to highrise clubs with penthouse vip sections, and drinks worth half a pay check.

but this? this was new to him.

the second you pushed the large piece of metal to one side, and the burst of color hit his eyes, lewis was enchanted. he could see your mark in the murals on the wall, enhanced by blasts of paint and explosions of light galore. he was stuck in just the entranceway, unaware of how the eyes of everyone around turned to assess the man accompanying their darling artist.

colored bulbs hung from strings along the walkway, illuminating every inch of the wall that was covered in paint and plants, old band posters covering the plain brick that would have seeped through. and under it all, you glowed.

the glitter sewn into your hair sparkled in the glow from the bulbs, your eyes doing much the same. it was clear this was where you belonged, and lewis would, at that point, give anything to let you keep that happiness.

it was bad for his health. a girl he had known less than a week, already so deeply woven into his heart that he was considering fighting whole governments to help her smile remain.

his career be damned, he was going to help you fight for it.

when i was writing this i wasn’t actually sure who i wanted to be the love interest But considering lewis is so supportive of Everything that this one shot stands for, he had to be it!!! the full one shot involves some class commentary as it’s about struggling artists vs obviously a major rich f1 driver but obvi, our lew is a sweetie so he felt perfect

also very self fulfilling fic as my dream is Forever art, and i used to live in a little arts district in canada before i moved to the uk for uni and then eventually france, and it was the best few years of my life. i really want to go back one day ee

[bigalockwood]

WIP GAME

Rules: You will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word. My word was COWS

thanks for tagging me @hergrandplan @skibasyndrome @pagegirlintraining @willesredlights 💜💜

I chose DREAM… because it reminded me of my favorite book series lmao.

D Dimly, he was aware that he was having a panic attack, that the lack of food and sleep was making him sick and dizzy, but the knowledge was no cure to either issue.

R Really, Simon should’ve left Bernadotte & CO’s headquarters the moment they asked him the final interview question. But he was not just a fool, but a broke fool with a family to support back home, so he didn’t. Which was why, that same evening, he found himself in Wilhelm’s living room, having a slightly awkward conversation with his new boss. Wilhelm. Though barely older than Simon, he owned a company, a house. Thinking of the door on the second floor landing, Simon itched to find out more about him — who he was, how he’d gotten as rich. Where his family was. Killed by ghosts, he assumed. Simon still wanted to know the full truth, from Wilhelm’s lips.

E Every touch of Simon’s lips sent a hot trail of fire through Wille, made his body tingle and his eyes close in bliss.

A Actually, scratch that. He thought he could already feel his heart breaking in real time. He could see Simon in his tux, curls styled, or maybe just artfully tousled, smiling happily when Wille knew he was really just signing his soul away. None of this was Simon - it had Marcus written all over it, from the thick, expensive paper, the swooping, curling letters, the wedding venue, even the wording of the invitation.

M “Maybe… once all of this is over — what do you think about grabbing a coffee and something to eat?” Wille asked, hopeful and way too invested than he should logically be. “No muffins, though,” he added quickly.

No pressure tag: @gulliblelemon @nerdyfangirl76 @earlgrey-lateatnight @the-impala-is-my-home @piebingo @saynomorefic and anyone else who wants to do this because I’ve no clue who’s been tagged already 💜💜

Your word: HORSE 🐴

[livingformintyoongi]

✨💫The WIP Fairy is visiting your blog and wants you to share your WIPS! Share whatever you like! All of them or one of them, just the title or a brief synopsis. Put them out into the world to manifest some writing inspiration 📝🤍 then send this ask to your writer moots!💫✨

AH! Loved the idea jsskjskasj I finally find an excuse to throw all the randoms bits I have scattered around my library that I've been trying to finish (I'm a very scattered person, in case you haven't noticed).

Somebody I F*cked Once | Yoongi (Part of BOTN series)

"Which one suits me better? The red or the white? Be honest." You held both shirts up to your chest, giving him a few seconds to carefully consider his answer.

"You look better with nothing on," he chuckled softly, watching as you rolled your eyes. His hands slid to your waist, gently caressing your skin. "Sorry, but you're making it hard for me to focus."

"Why?" you asked, frowning as you set both shirts aside, making sure to lay them flat.

"I don’t know. Maybe because you're sitting on my lap wearing just my favorite bra?" he raised his eyebrows, his hands traveling to your lower back as he carefully pulled you closer. Once you were near enough, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you lazily.

"I'm also wearing black pants," you laughed against his lips, running your hands through his mint-colored hair, which you loved so much. "And don’t forget my super sexy Sailor Venus socks."

"Oh, damn. I don’t know how I could’ve missed the socks," he gave you that gummy smile you adored, brushing his nose against yours.

"I don’t know, Yoonie. Your eyesight is going bad—you’re clearly aging poorly," you teased, getting off his lap and finally choosing the white shirt. Yoongi kept his eyes on you the entire time you were getting dressed.

"Okay... I think I’m ready," you smiled, bending down to pick up your pajamas and put them back in their place. You almost screamed when you felt Yoongi’s hand slap your butt.

"Min Yoongi!" you exclaimed, turning to face him with a frown, narrowing your eyes at his shit-eating grin.

"You bent over. Not my fault," he shrugged, lying on his side while giving you an innocent look.

You raised your leg and lightly kicked his arm, grinning triumphantly as he groaned in complaint. "Soomin!"

"Sorry, I thought you were asking to test Sailor Venus's super strength," you snickered, grabbing your bag and boots.

Echoes of Love | Taehyung (in edition, soon published)

"Are you feeling better?" Jiwon murmured, holding a bottle of water up to his face. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel sorry for seeing him in such a sorry state, with wet cheeks, a red nose, and dry lips. It was probably the worst she’d ever seen him, even worse than when Joohyun had left him. But she had no idea what to do or say to cheer him up. Knowing herself, she’d probably make things worse if she opened her mouth.

"Yeah..." he replied quietly, his brown eyes fixed on an empty spot on the floor. He seemed lost, absorbed in his own world, trapped in memories that caused him so much pain and heaviness it felt like he couldn’t bear them much longer. That, Jiwon thought, had been Taehyung's greatest muse: his pain.

"I’m sorry you have to go through all of this, I... I didn’t want to cause you more trouble. I know you hate listening to people complain and all that, but... I don’t have anyone else..."

"Shut up, you’re just making things worse," he murmured with sarcasm, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere a little. Contrary to what Taehyung thought, Jiwon actually cared about how he felt, she cared about listening to him, being there for him. "Now, why don’t you start from the beginning? How did you meet her?"

Taehyung stayed silent for a few seconds, one of his hands running through his hair, which had lost its once elegant form a long time ago. He licked his lips, feeling them dry. When he looked up, Jiwon’s eyes were already fixed on him, observing him with an intensity that revealed just how vulnerable he felt.

"I... I met her five years ago... there were almost seven months left until the next exhibition and I was struggling to create new art... and then she..."

"Did you make her your muse?" Jiwon tilted her head, sitting down next to him on the step. Her friend’s nervous behavior was starting to unsettle her. Even she didn’t know why. She knew him like the back of her hand, she knew he would never harm a girl, at least not consciously. So why was it so hard for him to speak?

"Yeah..." he murmured, covering his face with both hands. He closed his eyes, letting the memories of his time with Soomin flood back: her laughter, her eyes, her lips, her skin against his. Each memory grew more vivid, like a cold stream of water. He could hear the melody she played on the piano the first time they worked together, or remember the first time he saw her smile... Everything overwhelmed his mind like a cascade of moments he couldn’t stop. "She... she was like a breath of fresh air. I’d never met anyone so beautiful... and I’m not just talking about her looks, although she was that too. I’m talking about... her." He sighed, looking at Jiwon, whose eyes reflected the desolation he was feeling. "Her essence, her soul... whatever you want to call it. That’s what made her beautiful, Jiwon, and I don’t think I’ll find that in anyone else... I don’t want to."

Jiwon hugged her knees, still looking at her friend. She thought she understood what he was saying, at least to some extent. She had seen it reflected in his works, the way he portrayed her. It couldn’t be a coincidence that in each one, Soomin appeared as an ephemeral, ethereal being.

"So, then? Why did you let her go?" she murmured, studying his profile intently. She knew Taehyung was rambling, avoiding the topic. If she didn’t press him, he wouldn’t face it, and the last thing he needed right now was to keep avoiding reality.

Jiwon watched Taehyung for a long moment, feeling how the air between them thickened. She could see the internal struggle in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of his sadness was crushing him. She decided not to interrupt him, though his words hung heavily in the air. The silence between them became thick, but Jiwon didn’t want to rush her friend. She knew that only when he was ready, the words would come. But when Taehyung finally looked at her, his dark eyes were empty, filled with a sadness that Jiwon couldn’t fully understand, but she felt it as if it were her own.

‘It was her who left me, Jiwon...’

Goodnight N Go | Kim Taehyung (Part of the BOTN series)

“You never come to see me unless it’s for public opinion,” you clarified softly, taking one of the snacks you had served a few minutes ago. It had sounded worse than you had planned, in fact, you even sounded a bit resentful.

“Of course…” he swallowed hard as he saw your gaze settle on his. It was just as soft as always, he knew that; he couldn’t see any malice in them, even if he wanted to. Still, he felt his throat tighten when he realized you were challenging him to contradict you, and worse yet, he couldn’t do it, because you were right. He only spent time with you when cameras were involved, when they needed the journalists to see their perfect relationship. Nausea flooded him almost instantly. It was truly disgusting—why did you keep putting up with this?

“Don’t torment yourself so much, Tae,” you smiled gently, picking up your glass again, but this time, you didn’t take a sip, you just stared at the burgundy liquid inside. “Our relationship was fake from the start, remember? We both agreed that it would only be a public relationship, and we’d each carry on with our love lives as if nothing had changed.” Your heart squeezed at that reality check. You’d never promised exclusivity, you had asked him not to. How could you demand that from Taehyung, who was deeply in love with Joohyun? They loved each other, and you were simply… their curtain.

“Still, it doesn’t feel right. It feels almost like… I don’t know, like I’m using you for my own benefit.”

“That’s what this is about,” you cut him off quickly, not wanting to hear him torment himself over it, “We’re using each other to avoid a scandal that could affect my solo career and yours with Bring on the Night, so don’t feel guilty.”

“Y/N, I…” Taehyung tried to take your hand across the table, accidentally knocking over your glass in the process. You both gasped as the wine spilled directly onto your clothes, staining part of your shirt and skirt. You nearly panicked when the fabric started to become translucent. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… it wasn’t my intention,” he quickly moved toward you, grabbing a handful of napkins to clean the stain from your shirt.

Your cheeks flushed the moment Taehyung’s hands began rubbing the pink stain. “Uhm, Taehyung?” He only responded with a confirming sound, too focused on cleaning the stain. “Your hands are touching…” you lowered your voice with each word that left your mouth. Taehyung’s gaze stopped on yours, noticing how your cheeks were completely red. It was only then that he realized where exactly he was touching.

Now, both of you were completely flushed, unsure of where to look, what to say, or what to do. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” he pulled away from you as quickly as he could, awkwardly leaving the napkin on the table. He hadn’t noticed that your shirt had become translucent until that moment.

He wanted the ground to swallow him up right then and there and never spit him out again.

“I… I’ll go change, I’ll be back soon,” you murmured, standing up from your chair to walk—no, run—to your room.

Under The Shadows | Kim Taehyung (Part of the Four Kingdoms series)

"Did you know?" You looked at Jiwon, the knot in your throat tightening with each passing second, the pressure in your chest growing more unbearable. Everyone knew. Everyone but you. "All this time... I trusted you, followed each of your advice thinking you wanted the best for me."

"I do!" he quickly replied, moving closer to take your shoulders. Everyone in the room held their breath, what else could they say anyway? "I've always wanted the best for you, Your Highness, my intention was never to hurt you, I—"

"But you did," you murmured, pulling away from his grasp. They knew, they knew you were in the castle, they knew you wanted to kill Taehyung, and they also knew you would never do it. They knew everything. They had been manipulating every little detail of your life just to bring you here. They erased your damn memory, assigned you to one of their guards, made you Taehyung's servant... and it was all part of their plan. "You betrayed me, you all did..." You bit the inside of your lip, feeling a metallic taste flood your mouth, but you didn’t care, it didn’t even hurt. "I-I thought you were honest with me... I really thought... I thought I had finally found a place where I could be myself... where I didn’t have to spend hours locked in a tower with no human contact."

"And you don't have to anymore, Y/N, you're free here," Taehyung, who had barely been able to look at you since you entered the grand hall, took a few steps toward you. Having him close always made you nervous, every time you were near him you felt an inner warmth you had never felt with anyone in the past, or at least that's what you thought until a few minutes ago. Obviously, you felt this way because of him, it wasn’t just some sort of love at first sight, you had spent months talking with him, months in which he had been taking care of you, showering you with love like no one ever had, how was he able to pretend he didn’t know you? Months pretending you were just a new face, that he knew things about you by chance. He wasn’t any better than the others in this room.

"Don't come near me," you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the cold of your fingers spreading through your arms. A strand of your hair fell over your face as you looked down, its pale color, as white as snow, shining brightly in the sunlight coming through the windows. Every part of you began to tremble, to the point of being unable to stand. Your chest hurt, and your throat felt dry and tight. Panic was starting to take over your body. It was too much for you. "No... please, don’t come near me again..."

Jungkook, the only person in the room who had truly been honest with you, rushed to your side, trying to steady you as your legs gave way. He was halfway there when a spike of ice shot up from the floor, its tip pointing directly at his brow, sharp enough to pierce his skull, fast enough to have ended his life in that instant. "What...?"

Your hands were firmly placed on the floor, your gaze fixed on them. They looked different, they didn’t seem like yours. They were still small, still looked weak, but their color, your nails, looked different. The veins in your hands – and probably throughout your body – glowed a bright white, your skin was much paler than usual, and your nails had grown, sharpened, and their translucent blue color made them appear to be made of ice.

"Her hair!" you heard Soyeon scream. With your still trembling hand, you took a strand of your hair, the same one you had brushed this morning, the one that was supposed to be dark brown, now white. You noticed that as you touched your hair, the pads of your fingers began to cover themselves with a whitish frost, covering most of your fingers.

"Your Highness!" Jiwon rushed toward you, but before he could reach you, you stood up with the little strength you had left and ran toward the door leading to the main hallway. Your entire body felt heavy, alien to you, it was hard to run this way, but you had to do it, you didn’t know what else you were capable of in this unstable state.

Name in process… | Jeon Jungkook

Synopsis: Have you ever loved someone so intensely that just the simple act of exchanging glances with them makes your whole body tremble, your breath quicken, and your heart stop? Have you ever had the chance to meet someone with whom you’ve had such an overwhelming connection that it feels like all the books you’ve read about love finally make sense? You were sure that most people would say yes, that there was someone, a long time ago, who made them feel that suffocating sensation; but just as you were sure everyone had experienced this, you also knew that all those relationships never lasted, perhaps they never even started in the first place. It was simply that—a fleeting experience, a feeling that would remain deep within their hearts, with the hope that someday, they would feel that same love again in the future, and that it would have a happy ending, like in fairy tales.

Sadly for all those people, including yourself, fairy tales were simply that—fairy tales. Fantastical stories that make you feel they’re real, but in the end, they’re just stories.

That’s how you remembered your relationship with Jungkook. Something unreal, fantastic, like a fairy tale. It was fleeting, but full of emotions so strong that they still followed you to this day; full of memories you could still vividly relive through your dreams. He was, is, and probably always will be the only man you ever truly loved, and you were so painfully aware of that fact that, no matter how hard you tried, no relationship you ever had came even close to what you had with him.

I have more, but I feel it's already too collapsed KSKKDDKKASJD sorry.

I said I could invite some of my moots to do the same, so I'm going for my two favs of favs, my protégés, the loves of my life @thunderg and @kookiewithluv.