#TRULY A SUCCESS LOVE HE LOOKS SO BEAUTIFUL AND WONDERFUL AND YOU SHOULD BE SO PROUD!!!

[ssprayberrythings]

seeing the world | DR3

daniel ricciardo x female!reader / smau fic

pov: you and daniel spend your holidays travelling all over and keep everyone updated by documenting everything on your socials 🔆

warnings: just fluff on fluff !!

oh wow i've been away for sometime...sorry about that! but i come baring gifts aka a daniel ricciardo smau fic which i hope you all enjoy!

masterlist | taglist

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yourusername posted on their story  

caption: lets go explore the world 🗺️ @danielricciardo 

*replies disabled*

danielricciardo posted on their story  

caption: we're going on an adventure 💛 @yourusername 

*replies disabled* 

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yourusername posted on instagram    

landonorris, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, yourbestfriend & others liked 

somewhere in the mountains ⛰️ 

tagged: danielricciardo 

view all comments 

fan1: my favourite couple 

fan23: one day i want what danny and y/n have 

yourbestfriend: whose idea was it for zip lining ? 

╰ yourusername: who do you think 🙃 

fan55: i cant wait to see where else they go 

danielricciardo: i love you 

╰ yourusername: i love you more 

╰ fan22: ^ is this too much to ask for 

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danielricciardo posted on instagram    

yourusername, maxverstappen1, redbullracing, charles_leclerc and others liked 

first travel destination was a success ✅ 

tagged: yourusername 

view all comments 

yourusername: youre the cutest 

╰ danielricciardo: 😘 

landonorris: im sure the .jpg account is gonna be filled by the end of these travels 

fan22: wonder where they’re off to next 

fan15: ive never seen danny look so happy before ☺️

fan3: y/n brought our happy go lucky daniel back to us and for that we love her 

╰ liked by yourusername 

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yourusername posted on their story  

caption: he will find any reason he can to get behind the wheel 😝

╰ danielricciardo: not true.. 

╰ yourusername: babe, dont lie..

╰ danielricciardo: okay maybe partially true..

more replies…

╰ fan23: danny and his two loves: y/n and driving 

╰ fan21: sorry but his thigh tattoo >>

╰ fan12: that smile 🥹

yourusername posted on instagram   

redbullracing, danielricciardo, landonorris, yourbestfriend and others liked 

from mountains to beaches 🏝️ 

tagged: danielricciardo 

view all comments 

danielricciardo: my gorgeous girl 

╰ yourusername: my beautiful boy 

fan24: y/n truly is the prettiest girl ive ever seen

fan22: they’re living their best lives 

fan12: i HOPE Y/N IS VLOGGING THIS I NEED THIS IN VIDEO FORM 

╰ liked by yourusername 

fan12: SHE LIKED OMG HOPEFULLY ITS TRUE

landonorris: you got some sand on your knees..

╰ yourusername: geez thanks, i had no idea 

╰ landonorris: always happy to help 😊

╰ yourusername: 🙄

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danielricciardo posted on instagram  

yourusername, landonorris, yourbestfriend, alex_albon & others liked 

my happiest place; next to you 

tagged: yourusername 

view all comments 

fan12: IM DYING 

fan15: the highway is looking real comfortable 

yourusername: you’re such a sap ☺️

╰ danielricciardo: for you, always 

fan27: CUTENESS OVERLOAD 

landonorris: who knew you could be such the romantic 

╰ danielricciardo: you should take notes 😎

fan16: lando and danny’s dynamic hasn’t changed and I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THAT 

yourusername posted on their story  

caption: next destination here we come ✌🏻

*replies disabled* 

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yourusername posted on instagram    

danielricciardo, landonorris, yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc & others liked 

somewhere in the south of france 🇫🇷 

tagged: danielricciardo 

view all comments 

danielricciardo: je taime ❤️ 

╰ yourusername: 🥰 

fan2: FRANCE? PLEASE WE NEED DANNYY/N AT THE EFFIEL TOWER 

fan15: FRANCE IS SO ROMANTIC 

fan23: go to monaco please and thanks !! 

yourbestfriend: so jealous but also so happy for you two 🥹

╰ yourusername: we’re still gonna go on our girls trip across italy don’t worry 🥹

╰ liked by yourbestfriend 

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danielricciardo posted on instagram   

landonorris, yourbestfriend, yourusername, maxverstappen1 & others liked 

got to see all of france and i think it may be my favourite place we've travelled to ❤️

tagged: yourusername 

view all comments 

fan12: THE FRENCH F1 FANS HOW YOU DOING 

fan4: FRENCH FAN HERE: THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY 

fan9: i ran into y/n and danny while they were on the train and I CAN CONFIRM THE SWEETEST TWO PEOPLE YOU’LL EVER MEET 

yourusername: i’d come back here with you any day ❤️

╰ danielricciardo: maybe we’ll move here one day? 

╰ yourusername: youre getting a bit ahead of yourself..but maybe…one day down the road !! 

fan23: imagine danny living in france? NOPE I CANT..I NEED THIS TO BE REALITY 

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yourusername posted on their story  

caption: there’s so much love in the air ❤️ @danielricciardo 

╰ danielricciardo: ❤️

danielricciardo posted on their story  

caption: more adventures await us ✈️ @yourusername 

*replies disabled* 

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yourusername posted on instagram    

danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, yourbestfriend, redbullracing, charles_leclerc & others liked 

light shows and sunsets with my favourite boy 🧡 

tagged: danielricciardo

view all comments 

fan12: AWE DAN LOOKS SO CUTE 

fan1: they are serving !!! 

fan15: at this point i never want the racing season to start just so they can keep travelling the world 

fan16: THE LIGHTS REMIND ME OF RAPUNZEL 

╰ fan4: YES OMG 

danielricciardo: my very own princess 😘

╰ yourusername: my prince 🥰

danielricciardo posted on their story  

caption: and they lived happily ever after ❤️ @yourusername 

╰ yourusername: our fairytale 🥹

more replies…

╰ fan22: rapunzel and flynn 

╰ fan21: a real life prince and his princess 

╰ fan20: brb taking a shower with my toaster 🙃

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yourusername posted on their story  

caption: home sweet home <3 

*replies disabled* 

yourusername posted on instagram         

danielricciardo, landonorris, yourbestfriend, maxverstappen1, pierregasly & others liked 

dan and i are back home after a whole lot of travelling but please enjoy these moments that didn’t make our instagrams originally. we’ll see you all when racing starts back up, until then rest easy and thanks for joining us on this adventure. xo ❤️ 

tagged: danielricciardo 

comments limited 

danielricciardo: cant wait to do this for the rest of our lives 😘

╰ yourusername: already planning the next round of travels..😘

╰ danielricciardo: i wouldn’t expect anything less ! 

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thats it! i hope you liked it! i really enjoyed this concept and i loved getting to write something for danny !!

anyways i have a couple drafts started on longer pics that aren't smau style which is why they're taking a bit longer so bare with me, i want to get them right before posting and i want to be sure what i'm posting is something you all will enjoy reading but once i have something i will post as soon as possible!

until then goodbye and hopefully talk soon !! ✌🏻

#ssprayberrythings x formula one #f1 #f1 smau #imagines #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #danny ric #red bull racing #x reader #f1 x reader #ssprayberrythings x talks #dr3 #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one

[madangel19]

Helloooooo so what about a one shot of Popia getting back to his hotel room after a ritual and unwinding by getting in the shower and touching himself? 🙊

Oooo, this one should be fun >:3

Warnings: Good ol' shower masturbation, polyghouls referenced

Word Count: 666 (lol nice >;3)

“Ahh, finalmente,” Copia murmured as he entered his hotel suite.

It had felt like forever since he had a room to himself. The ghouls were somewhere about spending time together. Mountain and Swiss were sharing the room with him, but it would be another few hours before they returned doing whatever it was that ghouls did whenever they stayed at a hotel. Hopefully they would sleep over in another room, but being in a ghoul pile was always nice after a hard, but successful ritual. Either option was fine with him.

Copia removed his jacket and went straight into the bathroom to wash his papal paint off. He gazed at his sweat streaked face and smiled at the man in the mirror. 

“You were amazing. Always amazing. Lavoro fantastico. The crowd loved you and your ghouls,” he whispered, turning on the water and wetting a towel. He thought of the way the whole crowd screamed for him as he sang his heart out. Some people in the crowd definitely enjoyed his more raunchy moves and he chuckled as he recalled how some poor girl nearly fainted during Mummy Dust.

“Still got it, big buy,” he crowed once he got most of the paint off. It was time to shower.

He stripped the rest of his sweat-stained clothes and opened the door to toss them into the hotel room. He would have them washed tomorrow.

He turned his attention back to the grande shower and smiled. It was one of those showers that had a sitting ledge. Perfect for truly unwinding after a long day. A bathtub would have been nice, but he would make do with this.

He turned on the water all the way to hot and waited a moment before stepping in, sighing at the comforting heat. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the wall as he let the water hit him. 

He closed his eyes as he let his hand wander down his stomach before caressing his cock. How he didn’t get hard during shows always amazed him, but Satan worked in mysterious ways. 

A smirk formed on his lips as he recalled one of the many things he would say to the crowd.

“If you don’t have anyone to fuck, then go fuck yourself,” he murmured as he began stroking himself. 

It didn’t take long before his member got hard and he let out a soft moan at the wonderful sensation. He picked up the pace, hissing in pleasure at how hot it was in the steamed up shower. He thought of the beautiful faces in the crowd and even the faces of his beloved ghouls as he pleasured himself.

“Cazzo,” he groaned, already feeling precum coating his fingers as he thought of the way Swiss moved on his platform and how pretty Cumulus looked earlier that morning. 

The sound of the door opening in the hotel room caught his attention, but he paid it no mind. It had to be one of his ghouls. 

“You showering in there, Papa?” Mountain’s voice called out.

“Yes. I…I’m showering. I’ll be a while so…so get comfortable,” Copia stammered, biting his lip as he continued stroking himself.

“Don’t take too long or else I’ll join you, Papa. Sounds like you could use a hand in there,” Swiss’s voice crowed.

Copia chuckled at the thought. That wasn’t a bad idea.

Seconds passed and Copia let out a strained moan as he came, his warm, sticky seed leaking down his legs and onto the floor before going down the drain. He stroked himself one more time before sitting on the shower ledge, breathing heavily as he let the hot water wash off any cum that got on him. 

“Wonderful,” he murmured.

There was a knock at the door followed by an excited chirp as the lights briefly flickered in the bathroom.

“Can I come in, Papa?” Swiss’s voice asked.

“Of course you can come,” Copia chuckled, eager to truly unwind with the help of his ghoul.

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus iv #papa copia #copia #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #nameless ghouls #fanfiction #ghost fanfiction

[juminies]

in order to get to the heart

marriage of convenience, on occasion, is not so convenient.

♡ — jumin x original female character. small amounts of canon compliant jumin x reader, but mostly canon divergent (jumin is unhappily married prior to the start of the game). 1600 words. title from heartlines by florence + the machine.

They just say anything to each other these days.

“This façade drains me beyond comprehension,” Jumin confesses the minute he walks through the door. His fingers loop into the knot of his tie and pull it looser around his neck.

“So you say,” murmured half into a cushion tucked up to a woman’s chest as she types on her phone. “It’s not for our benefit though, is it?”

On some level, this is always how it was going to be for Jumin, he thinks. In a marriage stripped to its fragile bones. A sacrificial lamb for the sake of the corporation, for mutual social and financial gain.

He leans down to untie his shoes.

It would be untrue to say there weren’t veiled attempts, in the beginning, to love. When that didn’t work there were attempts to like. None successful, of course. Lately it’s becoming more difficult to believe this arrangement is better than any alternative. Between the two of them there is a lot of nothing.

The woman remains quiet—focused—but nods easily against the woven fabric she’s leaning into when Jumin asks, “Do you not get tired of coming home from work to find me occupying your space?”

He knows that in public they look good together. He knows that their careers slot together effortlessly. Despite what the media may suggest, however, they are human. Jumin included. The way he feels nothing for her does not match the way she feels nothing for him. The way she yells that he is robotic does not match the way he stoically calls her irresponsible.

They do not sleep together, or eat together, or do any of the romantic things Jumin wishes he hadn’t let himself privately indulge in the idea of. And it’s not that she’s not nice—she’s intelligent and beautiful and kind, when it suits her. Perfect on paper until she wasn’t. When she laughs with her chest Jumin can almost imagine a world where she smiles at him like she does others and it makes his heart weak. Part of him wishes, truly, that that was the case. In reality it feels like nothing.

It could be worse, he tells himself—repeats it like a mantra.

Concealed beneath it is fear. You could be like him. You could repeat his mistakes.

She throws her phone haphazardly onto the sofa beside her and looks up to where Jumin is standing in the doorway. He’s mostly backlit from the light in the hall, the lamp beside his wife barely grazing his features but lighting up hers in all the wrong ways. The orange glow casts unpleasant shadows over places she’s usually pretty. He should have the bulb changed to something less harsh.

“Not much we can do if you don’t want the press to kick up a huge fuss, sweetie,” she says.

The pet names are a jest he has learned to tune out.

“Will they not make a fuss over our divorce in three years’ time nonetheless?” Jumin asks. It’s hypothetical, of course. They will.

“Maybe we’ll have grown on each other by then.” Her tone is disinterested; feels almost mocking. Her phone chimes to let her know her driver is outside. “I’m going out. Shall I take my card or yours?”

“It makes little difference to me.” Jumin looks at his watch. It’s almost 10pm but he doesn’t ask where she’s going. A bar, perhaps.

“Could you adjust my necklace?”

She holds her hair up messily, and he does.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he tells her, then briefly wonders if she’ll meet someone tonight and sleep with them. He pictures her naked beneath a stranger. It feels like nothing.

She takes her own card and squeezes his bicep softly as she walks by him on the way out. She shuts the door more forcefully than is ever really necessary.

At some point Jumin suggests she move out of their—his—apartment and into the one directly below; just recently made vacant. He probably would have suggested it earlier had the apartment been available earlier, but their district of Seoul tends to be under high demand.

“I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to live separately,” she says. It’s a statement, not a question. They had done exactly that.

Jumin hums, tired. Tired from his trip and tired from trying and at some point, it seems, he has lost an indistinguishable part of himself to her for good.

“We did. Although I would say that that was long enough ago now for us both to have become quite aware that we do not do particularly well sharing the same space for considerable periods of time.”

“You’re gone a lot anyway. The place is big enough for us to avoid each other if needed, and I like it here.”

She exhales sharply; amused.

Jumin has no idea why until she adds, “More so when you’re not around, to be fair.” And that explains it, just about.

“Stay here when I am travelling if you must,” he tells her. Somewhere along the way his suggestion has morphed into more of an instruction.

“Fine. Don’t tell your father, though. Or mine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They buy it outright in her name, the cost split fifty-fifty. Jumin tells her to keep it all when she sells it later. She tells him she won’t.

They argue tonight, as usual, about who will be chauffeuring them to a company gala. They had agreed that Jumin’s driver would take them only for her to assert for the hundredth time at the last minute that she doesn’t trust him, though she has not legitimately spoken to him more than once and he has been working for Jumin’s family longer than she has been alive.

It’ll cause a stir if the two of them show up separately so they end up in her car, as usual. Jumin apologises to Driver Kim via text for requesting him when he wasn’t needed on the way there, and they arrive late.

The venue reminds Jumin of the last RFA party. His wife had not attended despite her invitation, so it is not proper grounds for conversation. However, when they are out like this they are a happy couple like the legal drabble says, so he says it anyway—if just to appear interested in her.

“I’m sure this is nicer than your friends’ charity get togethers,” she replies lightheartedly, and they are called over by her father before Jumin can retaliate.

The façade stays firm for the remainder of the event. Jumin can easily distinguish her fake laugh from her real one, and he can tell when she forgets who he is for a moment and touches him a little more tenderly than either of them really mean.

They are silent on the drive home. They are silent in the elevator, until it stops one floor below Jumin’s penthouse. “Goodnight,” he says. “Sleep well.”

“You don’t have to say that, you know,” she counters, and smiles softly as the doors slide shut between them. “Not when it’s just me.”

Elizabeth the 3rd is snoring softly when he unlocks his door, and it is the only sound he can hear. He basks in the bliss of having nobody around when he is already so mentally exhausted, and takes out his phone to see it’s just after midnight and Yoosung has opened a chat room.

He enters it, multitasking as he changes his clothes and brushes his teeth. His cat patters into the room and jumps up beside him when he perches on the edge of his bed. She smells frustratingly like perfume and something oddly like guilt threatens Jumin with a dull blade.

Wait!! says Luciel. Think someone entered the chat room.

Jumin checks. There is a name on his screen he doesn’t recognise.

Odd.

Who are you? Identify yourself.

“Jumin. It’s me,” your voice is soft and bubbly; maybe a little nervous but still pleasant on his ears. An intriguing introduction. He almost finds himself chuckling.

Jumin moves the phone from his ear and glances down at your name again, just to be certain he’s not imagining things, then focuses in on the plainness of the wall in front of him.

“I hope you realise blurting out ‘It’s me’ is not a proper way to identify yourself to the person on the other end of the line.”

He had hesitated briefly before telling you he is married. Now he has known you for five days and whatever he’s feeling is somehow, ridiculously, already far greater than any emotion he has ever felt towards his wife.

He invites her out for dinner at their usual restaurant the following evening, and she tells him if he has something to discuss with her she would rather keep it simple. As an alternative he invites her to the penthouse and opens a bottle of wine he knows she likes. When she arrives her hair is tied up experimentally and she is wearing a new shade of lipstick. She surprises him when she actually accepts his offer to pour her a glass.

“I am going to talk with my father,” Jumin says, and she knows what he means. It’s only later that he will find out she had already brought it up with hers. “For what it’s worth, however, I apologise that it ended up like this.”

“Me too,” she agrees. Jumin notices the light catch a glassiness in her eyes as she continues, “If I could have loved you, I would have.”

She stays for a few hours and it is the most sincere time they have spent together in three years.

That night, Zen has a dream.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x reader #anyway. [replaces your sarah choi] #I just love putting him in situations 🩷 #I gave the oc lore in my head even though I'll very likely never write about her again #her name is yeeun kwon and she's the daughter of a chaebol family that chairman han has close connections to :) #I didn't share anything about her in this on purpose though #something something narrative #annfic

[mysweetgirl2-love]

After A Long Day… - Artem Wing x Reader

Please, this one is maybe the simplest and, honestly??, it was kinda my favorite write so far.

At least, he started heading in a positive trend writing wise. Very much enjoyed describing this small shared moment between you and the best lawyer in Stellis 🙈 Live, love, Artem.

Warnings: None, this is pure soft. Very sweet interaction :)) don't let the prompt deceive you, I promise ^^" Prompt #10: Undressing Word Count: 2.8k

✦✧✦✧

“You’re doing WHAT tonight?!” 

Cringing slightly at how Kiki’s voice screeched over the phone’s receiver, you found yourself panicked in the middle of your boss’ living room, wondering if you just should end the call before he could hear your co-worker yelling at you on the line. Even when she wasn’t on speaker, the voice was just a little too loud for the setting you found yourself in.

“Yes. Yes! Now, if you would just shut. UP. Maybe! Maybe my cover won’t be blown.” You growled over the phone, causing your tone to be more intimidating than possibly need-be but knowing it was better that way if it got the message you needed relayed across to your excitable friend. 

It was late on a Friday night where you found yourself infiltrating the space you were just starting to grow more accustomed to. You and your boss, also known as the youngest and most successful lawyer of his time, recently had started seeing one another. Not like you were just hired and your boss was starting to notice your hard work-kind of seen, no. In all honesty, to your unbeknownst self, Mr. Wing had been noticed truly since the day you started working at his firm. A spunky, up-and-coming young woman in his office was hard to miss for anyone, and the talent in which you displayed in a courtroom wasn’t unforeseen by him either. Arguably, he had grown to be enamored with you before ever having the chance to ask your name.

He wasn’t invisible to you either, obviously. Being someone of his status in the world of law, along with his undeniable looks and physical beauty, it was hard to turn a blind eye to him for those reasons and more. If not you trying to keep your head in the game of the work field, and not hopelessly falling for your boss, both your co-worker and the firm’s executive woman were quick to point out the tension around you both whenever you had interacted. It was increasing in complication with every passing day you both came into work, and finally both Kiki Bennett and your bosses boss, Celestine Taylor, ultimately convinced you to approach the man and profess your growing crush before it “became too much of a distraction”.

Thus, taking the Artem Wing by surprise, a relationship formed from business turned into that of involvement. Something he didn’t quite know how to handle, or if he should feel good about indulging in anyway. Another personal note in himself, he truly did find himself to have a certain infatuation with your person, he ultimately said yes because of words from Ms. Taylor. Whereis, in a previous conversation, the woman had talked you up and your teamwork on the floor of the firm, claiming you to be a strong, independently willed person, who always knew what they were doing. 

That, on top of the silent praises Artem held internally for the lawyer you were turning out to be, was what reassured him that saying yes wouldn’t halt his work… and that it was alright to indulge in what fate was kind enough to give him a chance with.

So, he agreed to your asking of grabbing a bite to eat after work—the time now being two weeks since your first outing with one another. Where drinks were shared, drunk talk maybe too quickly came off of your tongue, and feelings were no longer able to be denied as he asked the details of how you felt about him, the intoxicated haze your drinking had put you in making it hard to have any filter. Admitting to things like how you admired the broadness in his shoulders, and lovesick words centered around how “the blue of your eyes makes me feel like I’m drowning in an endless ocean of sight,” and maybe how he should be a glasses model.

All to which you were very apologetic and embarrassed for the following morning, he reassured you over the phone by saying it wasn’t a big deal. That he found your ramblings “endearing,” and wouldn’t be opposed to hearing more when eventually given the chance. 

It had at least a month since that night out, and though it wasn’t the only time you both had reserved time one another outside of work since then, nothing had yet to compare. You blamed your endless babbling on how great of a boss Artem was in your eye’s, but Artem had claimed it was because his workload had since spiked over the course of that month and it was hard to find time for something quite like it again.

With that in mind, and having recently acquired personal access to his penthouse of an apartment, you took it upon yourself to maybe help relieve some of the tension from a work day by surprising him with a night in together. Now, was entering his apartment without outrightly telling him you’d be there when he got home a good idea? Arguably, no. You were never great at giving surprises, and with Kiki’s reaction to where you had bustled yourself off to after work… you could only hope Artem wouldn’t find this incredibly invasive. 

Kiki’s whine resounded again from your speaker, your name being dragged out in a tone that all too nagging, “I didn’t think you’d be so quick in getting a spare to his apartment!” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s crazy, no I don’t think we’re moving too fast, the place is great, yada, yada, yada,” You threw another throw pillow up on the couch in trying to make the place more homely. When you first had come over, the apartment barely looked lived in; even the bedroom had crisply pressed sheets and just all around smelled like fresh laundry. Before ultimately returning this evening, you had run to a department store—purchasing a few seasonal appropriate decorations that you thought would fit his space. “Are we done here?”

“No! No way are ‘we done here,’ I need details!” You rolled your eyes at your phone, then moving to just hold the device against your ear with your shoulder, hands too busy with the pillow details.

“Look, Kiki, as much as I love being your friend and gossiping about all the good, bad, and the ugly—“

“This isn’t even that!” She interrupted, much to your very irate dismay, “This is BIGGER than just gossip! You’re—“

There are approaching footsteps you can distinctly hear from outside the apartment, and you’re suddenly bounding back up the stairs to your boss’ bedroom to hide from the incoming man himself. Only when you were in the securely out of sight from the 

“Look. Kiki. I have to go.”

“Wait—“ you heard just the beginning of your name leave her mouth as you hit the end call button and cut her off. Further turning your cell on do not disturb, you placed it face down on Artem’s dresser and planned on leaving it there to avoid any bombarding texts you were bound to receive in plenty after your phone would send Kiki to voicemail each time she tried calling back.

You eased your body against the frame of the bedroom as you intently listened to what was happening beyond the room, clearly hearing Artem now moving into the space and going through his evening routine. The shoes clicked on his tiled entry as he slipped out of them, knowing this is where you would ultimately be found out.

There was a pause in noise from beyond his doorway, maybe a light shuffling as you imagined him looking over the familiar dress shoes also by his step. A beat or two more, and slowly you heard him step into his living room with a weighted pause.

Softly, not quite a whisper but lower than his familiar ‘inside-voice’, he hushed your name. Breathed it into the space, and upon its calling, you step out from behind the wall and found him already to be peering up at the balcony over his living room, anticipating you. 

It was subtle, but you swore you saw his eyes brighten with your appearance from the room. Bubbly giddiness guiding you back down the stairs and back to the first floor of the penthouse. “Hi…” 

Artem barely gives himself time to breathe at your greeting before he’s already pacing your way, arms extended and open for you if you chose to accept them. And, you were not going to be the person to deny his welcoming hug.

Taking your own step forward, you pressed into his chest and let his arms wrap fittingly around your shoulders, pulling you in and pressing you to the fabric of his dress shirt—his comforting smell of mixed cologne and office smell calming any senses previously heightened by the interaction with Kiki.

“When’d you get here?” His voice is still quiet, hands curling gently around your shoulders and holding you in place. 

You shake your head in starting to respond, “Not too long ago… maybe a half hour?”

“Ah,” Artem shifts, and suddenly you’re pulled away from his front and instead held at a distance, his eyes giving you a once-over, “were you alright getting in on your own? The doorman didn’t give you any problems?”

“He saw I had the key and didn’t question twice. Artem, please.” Your own hand reaches and gently wraps around his wrist, giving the larger man a reassuring squeeze, “You worry too much.”

Artem’s eyes warmed with the comment, a light shrug shifting through him, “I would like to argue that it’s almost my job to keep worrying…”

“Sure, but not about me!” You giggled, shaking your head gently before your eyes fell on the tie he always wore. The sleek fabric almost shining in the warm overhead lights of his apartment. Slowly your hand fell from his wrist and, with the other, reached for the accessory decorating his center—slipping your finger in its knot and pulling down. “You shouldn’t feel so responsible at home.”

“I—Well, yes— But—“ Mr. Wing was suddenly a stuttering, stumbling mess as you continued in your actions, “When-When it comes t-to you—“

“Please, I feel like me being here should be your biggest relief,” You openly teased as the tie slipped out of its bonding and simply laid around his collar. “I don’t think there’s a place safer in Stellis for me to be.”

“M-Maybe,” finally lifting a hand, Artem cleared his throat and leveled his emotions, getting ahold of himself, “but, you didn’t want to wait for me to also get off work?”

You couldn’t help but grin at the question, promptly shaking your head, “No. That would ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Suddenly then Artem lifted his gaze to peer around the room, his eyes falling on the throw pillows separately adorned in both fall leaves and gourds, looking to find a candle lit in the center of the coffee table, quickly turning once over his shoulder to the table where he kept a few framed photos and seeing the grouping of differing-colored pumpkins bunched together. He let out an easy chuckle with now having lasting touches of you affecting his apartment, finally peering back towards you with a gentle nod. “I see now… very nice.”

You grinned so hard it caused the skin on your nose to scrunch and it gave your smile a new pureness in excitement, happy to be here, physically, emotionally, with him. His approval just made your enthusiasm all the more prevalent, like he could feel it radiating off you in waves.

“So, you like it?” You ask carefully, reaching up and then pulling the tie out from under his collar. He seemed to shiver at the sensation of the silk slipping out, maintaining his smile this time.

“Mhm.* He slowly nodded, his attention now fixated on watching the tie gently fall through your fingers, “I don’t think ‘like’ is the right term…”

You raised a brow lightly up at him, your head falling on its side to emphasize your curiosity, “Oh? You’d call it something else?”

“I love them,” he answered swiftly, and you were taken by such a meaningful word falling from his lips, your cheeks then feeling warm on your face, “it’s like a little touch of you can finally stay in the apartment.”

The increasing beat of your heart then faltered, and you gasped as if it would help restart its beating. Artem’s warmth quickly fell with a panicked look creasing into brows, his hands hovering around your elbows.

“Did I say something wrong?” He suddenly asked, worry etched into his brow that he might’ve taken it a step too far, “I didn’t mean to overwhelm—“

“What? Oh! No, no, Artem,” You lightly laughed and let your hand not preoccupied with his tie fall lightly on his shirt’s breast pocket, “you’re totally fine. I just wasn’t expecting such a… poetic statement.”

“Poetic?” He spoke the word with an awkward, “I don’t believe I’ve ever been associated with the word.”

“You’re a lawyer, you’re not supposed to be.” You grinned with your joke, “Hence my surprise~” 

Artem laughed gently through his nose, his head leaning in and allowing the bridge of his nose to gently press against the skin of your forehead. You melted at the point of contact, the smile hurting your cheeks with how wide you were continuously beaming.

“Thank you, by the way,” He murmured softly, his breath washing over your face and lulling you further into this hazy comfort, “I’m very grateful for this surprise.”

“I appreciate your feedback,” You chimed, your hands slipping now under his topcoat and pushing the article of clothing from his shoulders, it sliding down his arms just from its weighted material, “but it’s not even the highlight of the evening?”

“Really?” He’s now eager to shrug himself of his outer layer of clothing, get comfortable, “What else would you have planned?”

“Does a movie night-in sound fun? Something easy for the season?” You both gave each other some distance to keep admiring the other, not seeming to be able to stare long enough in being able to comprehend just how attractive the other was. You felt corny in that moment, but the giddiness you saw in him at the suggestion of a movie was clear.

“You truly do know the way to my heart.”

It wasn’t a secret to you that Artem had a certain appeal when it came to watching films—both asking you with your co-workers what you all thought about recent films that had come to theaters, and ones that had already existed for an extended period of time. Being able to give him the space for something comforting like a movie night, as well as listening to his ramblings about certain choices behind one’s film-making, was certainly a good outlet to provide him with after a day at work.

“I try to pick up on things,” You relent afterwards, grabbing the jacket which finally slipped from his wrists and clutching it around one arm. You held it between the both of you, nodding at Artem with your chin, “Hurry up, then. Go get comfortable and I’ll start making popcorn.”

“Do you have a movie in mind?” He asked while watching you step away for the kitchen.

“Thought I’d give you the honors, silly.” You chimed while reaching one of the many cabinets over his counter, reaching up for one of the handles, “It’s your surprise.”

“Then, I’ll be right back.” He cleared his throat, you having to laugh before shooting him an amused look. Finding it almost hard to believe you allowing his choice made him flustered, and yet you still found the tips of his ears were certainly brighter in color than the rest of him; such was the truth.

Artem didn’t hesitate any longer, quickly pacing up his stairs and turning into his bedroom leaving you down below. The greeting was sweet, and being able to relax in his arms seemed like a great way to end your night, end off the busy week at Stellis Law Firm. You couldn’t ask for a better outcome.

Artem suddenly called your name from the room, you promptly turning and widening your eyes to find the man with his shirt now halfway unbuttoned. White, broad shoulders further showing themselves to you along with the dips of his collarbone. He was focused elsewhere, though, and you quickly realized he was dangling your phone out in your direction.

“Ms. Bennett seems to be calling…?”

You groaned, your head falling into a facepalm, deciding then maybe the lack of Kiki could make it better. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved your hand back up at the balcony, placing the microwavable popcorn into his microwave, “just… her trying to get the details about tonight.”

“I see…” You could hear the smile in Artem’s voice as he retracted back to his room, “Well, she’ll be glad to hear about it from me, personally, on Monday.”

#artem wing #zuo ran #tears of themis x reader #tears of themis #tears of themis soft #artem wing x reader #artem x reader #tot artem #tot x reader #tot x you #artem x you #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #creative writing #writing #x reader #reader insert #second person pov #second person narration #wow so many tags #ignore me #i love it here

[mayohaha]

Dunmeshi Fic

Laios's Bride

Couple : Laios x Kabru, slight Fallyn x Marcille

Warning (???) : Bi-Kabru, Moron Laios, NSFW 🔞

Premise : After Laios becomes the King of Melini, everyone is starting to wonder if Laios would ever marry anyone, well... will he?

P.S : I write this for my own consumption... i just need this.

Yaad (in Delgal's body) been trying so hard to push Laios to have a Bride as he said "You should have an heir to proceed the succession!" Or so he said. Despite so, everyone (except Laios) knows it's because of Laios's curse that Yaad keeps asking him to have an heir. Despite so Marcille was unsure whether Laios's curse would be inherited by his heir. This has cause Kabru to fear over Laios as his right man.

Laios, on the other hand, has been wondering about who would be his bride. It doesn't seem possible to find one for him. He did have a lover back then, but his feelings towards the person isn't even that... passionate -nor romantic enough. He also thinks about who would ever fall for him. After the demon shows him his desire to be accepted, he realizes it would be almost impossible for him to find a lover knowing people hardly understand him.

On his bed, he's lying over while daydreaming about having a bride. He is trying to portray a beautiful red hair women, but it ended up reminding him of his mom. He tried harder to find someone else, he remembered the succubi form of Marcille -but instead of that, he was too focused on the monster looks instead...

"Ugh!!! It would be easier if I'm not a King! Kabru fits this role more!!!" Laios scream within his frustration.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Brother?"

"Oh Fallyn! Yes, come inside!" shout Laios.

Fallyn opened the door and looked at her brother, looking quite messy after he got frustrated.

"I heard you screaming from outside. Did something happen?"

"Oh... uh... I'll be alright, sorry to bother you."

Fallyn sat beside him and start to pat her brother head softly.

"Marcille told me that Yaad has been quite pushy about you having an heir. She said that you might get frustrated over it. Kabru also started to get worried that it might make more problems to Melini."

Laios's face becomes paler. It does frustrate him. However, it's not like he doesn't want to have a bride and an heir. His self-esteem says that he doesn't deserve any of that. Looking at this, his little sister hugged him tight.

"No need to think too much brother, you'll find someone to love, who loves you too someday."

Fallyn coughed a bit, then she proceeded with her speech.

"-I didn't know mine too at first, till I was being told by Chillchuck that Marcille is in love with me. I just realized that she loves me that much after listening to your journey. After she confessed her jealousy and her broken heart after I tried to consider Shuro's proposal, we ended up being together."

Fallyn flustered thinking over that memory. Laios's is truly happy knowing that his sister finds someone who loves her sincerely.

"It seems impossible for me, though. But maybe -maybe I'll find one like you do Fallyn. I'm so happy for you."

Both of them are smiling to one another.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Laios, are you there?"

BAAAAAAAAAMMMM

A male voice came from outside the door. He then smashed to get inside without even waiting for Laios to answer.

"O-oh sorry, I didn't know you're talking to Fallyn."

"Ah, it's fine, I'm preparing myself to sleep anyway." said Fallyn softly.

Fallyn kiss her brother's head.

"Well brother, take your time okay."

Laios nodded to Fallyn and waved to her as she went out.

The male who smashed the door is his right hand, Kabru, he looked somehow a bit... frustrated? But, mixed with some worries. He goes inside and grabs a seat next to Laios's bed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your talk with Fallyn -it's just I think we really need to talk."

"Ah yeah, it's alright... But, what bothers you Kabru?"

Kabru was messing his hair as Laios's asked that.

"Yaad's demand about your heir... do you have any idea on facing that?"

Laios shakes his head while looking sad. Kabru realized it's hard for him as well.

"Well, Marcille said that the chance that your heir would inherit your curse might be low as well. I don't think you need to think much about that haha!"

Laios's didn't bother Kabru's statement about that. His head seems to worry over something else instead.

"I don't even think someone would love me like that you know..."

His voice sounds desperate, but Kabru can't think about anyone either, not even Chillchuck's daughters, the orcs, nor any maiden would want to be Laios's bride if they know how Laios is. He is unable to see Laios's desperation being put on his face, though.

"Laios, you're the brave King who faced the demon and bring the glory to Melini! There must be someone who would love to be your bride!"

Laios suddenly stare Kabru with his dark eyes.

"Who? Who would it be? Not even you would love me like that."

"H-huh?!" Kabru flustered hearing Laios's words.

M-me?! Does he love me this whole time?! W-wait, did he chose me because he loves me? It doesn't make sense!!! Or is it?

Kabru tried to regain himself. Laios, on the other hand, looking down to his hand in front of him. Kabru then put his hand on top of Laios's.

"Do you think I would fit to be your bride?"

Laios was struck by that question. He didn't ever think about whether it's possible or not, but if it is, Kabru is the best bride he could ever asked. Someone who has the charm and being loved by Melini, also the best person who understands him. What a big win!

"OF COURSE!!! YOU'LL BE THE BEST BRIDE I COULD EVER ASKED!!!"

Laios impulsively made such answer.

Kabru struck off. He is beyond flustered. His whole face is red, thankfully his dark skin hides it, but he couldn't even think. How come someone like Laios managed to get this side of him? But, does Laios even love him?

He is regaining himself again, clearing his throat and start to talk again.

"Uh well... well then, say... can you even think to sleep with me?"

"Sleep with you? Well, sure! You can sleep here with me." Laios patting his bed.

Laios's face is like the golden haired dog looking moron and excited in the same time. Kabru still trying to hold his flustered. He then slide beside Laios, as Laios gave him a place to fit on his bed. It was a bit awkward for them at first, but Laios seems to fit in quite well. He's still smiling like a dog, and Kabru can't help to giggle.

Kabru embrace Laios's face, making him facing his. He get closer and put his nose on Laios's. He can feels Laios's breath. Then he whisper towards him.

"Can I kiss my King then?"

Laios flustered -can't think, he nodded and letting Kabru giving him a kiss.

It was tense, a bit cold... but then it changed. Tender, soft, and a glimpse of sweetness can be tasted. He grasps for some air, and dig in for more.

Kabru didn't let go either, he is eager. He took more, not letting Laios to take a break. Changing his position -he didn't let Laios to stop kissing him. He is now sitting on Laios lap, holding his head, craving more of his lips. All he can think about is how big Laios is, and how small he is. How muscular Laios is, and how thin he is. Yet, how Laios holding his back gently, scared to hurt him while he is eating Laios alive. It was so heaty, and none of them is stopping.

The kiss took much longer than Laios expected. He had never had this kind of burning sensation before. Kabru stopped and grasped for air as Laios gasped.

Laios eyes has become that puppy eyes. Asking to be loved, and not being let go. Kabru melts into his eyes.

It's not the first time he felt this way to him. Remembering the time when they met again after Laios fought the demon. His desperation that time when he feels that he has failed. That moment his eyes asking to be loved, the same like how his eyes look right now. Kabru just can't let go.

Laios tried to talk, but his word stuck on his mouth. Kabru came in again to peck his lips. Holding his head, then putting his head to Laios's.

"Say, how does it feel?"

Laios gulped.

"Hot..."

Kabru giggles after hearing what Laios said. Didn't realize that a hard bump touches his crotch.

"O-oh..."

"A-AH!" Laios screamed.

Kabru put his on his mouth, preventing him to make further noise.

"S-ssht... it's alright, I'll take care of it."

Laios jolted as Kabru changed their position. He asked Laios to sit on his bed edge, then opened his pants, and slid off his undies. Laios's lower head sprung off, and already quite hard. Laios kept jolting, but he tried hard not to make any noise.

Kabru started to slide his hand up and down while Laios whimpered. Laios got wet easily, since his pre-cum didn't take long. He is so erected that he hardly able to hold anything much longer.

Kabru took the opportunity to suck it and make it even more drenched. Laios tried as hard as he can not to cum on Kabru's face.

"S-stop it, I need to cum."

Kabru made the last suck deeply, then stopped as Laios quickly cummed while his body squirmed. He made quite a mess on Kabru's shirt.

"A-aahhh!! I don't mean to-"

Kabru just smiled. He licked a bit of it to tease him, and then he stood up. He took the napkin on the nearest table. Swiped the liquid from himself, and clean Laios's.

Laios just stand still while still squirming. Once it's done, Kabru throws the napkin away, and he slides into Laios's side to sleep with him.

"Am I good enough to be your bride Laios?"

Laios nodded so hard.

Kabru just giggles after watching him like that. He snuck into Laios's chest, and Laios adjust his hand to cuddle him.

"I can grow my love to you into such love."

He gazed into Laios's eyes.

"The kind of love your bride would love you."

Laios's face became so red. His eyes hardly focus on Kabru's. Kabru embraced his face one more time and gave him a short sweet kiss.

Laios pushed himself to say words.

"I-I would love you... as my lover."

Kabru smiled, listening to that. He started to close his eyes. Laios joins afterward and sleeps while cuddling his beloved one.

Well, it seems that an heir would be another problem, but for now, Laios is fulfilled with the bride he gets.

#dunmeshi #labru #laios touden #kabru #laios is a moron #charming kabru #one-shots #i guess? #fanfic #dungeon meshi #kabru x laios

[windrush-child]

Love In The Dark 1

A fateful encounter between you and a fearless racing driver turns your whole life upside down. This is the story of a blossoming love affair, in the shadows of a loveless marriage.

Disclaimer - This story will contain descriptions of domestic violence and general adult content. 18+. More work

The dress' silken material feels almost too soft, too perfectly smooth. Prussian blue with an intricate lacing around the back, just millimetres of breathing space for your ribcage, as if it was made to make its wearer suffer. It's outrageously expensive too, of course, but that is none of your concern. You move the curtains away, step out of the fitting room and meet your own reflection in the big mirrors; A person that you used to know. The old lady's - pardon - stylist's scrutinising eyes scan you up and down, waiting for a reaction, but your focus is out of the window again, literally. From your view up here on the third floor, even Vienna's wealthiest people look insignificant and small as they trudge through the cold rain on Kärntner Street. A stark contrast to the soft, beige carpet beneath your bare feet. "Truly, a wonderful dress," the lady suddenly says, and your eyes flick back to her. "Elegant, but not pompous. The perfect choice for the event," she adds. "Your husband will love it." You exhale, a little too loudly. Yes - the perfect dress to be standing next to him for the entire night, to politely smile at people you've never met, to nod, but not to speak more than a word at a time. To act like the asset that you are. To show everyone what a pretty little wife Mr Waltz has. Is there anything more dreadful in the world than a sponsorship event? "It's too tight," you say, both hands on your waist. The lady raises a brow. "Can you loosen the strings a bit?" Silently, she unties the back, until the top of the dress falls forward. You stand exposed, topless in the middle of the room, too tired to be bothered about it. While the lady adjusts the strings, she ignores the unsightly purple marks on your skin and the obvious bruises where a hand has gripped you too hard, too long. She's seen them countless times before. Don't ask, don't tell. There's only a handful of people that have ever seen this side of your marriage and know what your husband is capable of. Everyone else is oblivious or chooses to be. They believe the love story of the successful, charming entrepreneur and his young, beautiful wife. And for a point in time it was true. He was once the love of your life, the man you left it all behind and moved to another country for, the one who made your heart flutter and your face blush with just a look - But that was a long time ago. Impulsivity and possessiveness mistaken for passion and love. When you've peeled yourself out of your dress back in the changing room, you give yourself a once over. Sometimes, you like to imagine the spots where he would kiss you, would caress your hair and gently nibble at your skin if only he were a different man; The man he used to be three years ago at the day of your wedding. He, the sharp-witted, eccentric yet kind business man from Austria, over twenty-five years your senior, so madly in love with you that he would've bought you the moon had you asked for it. You can not pinpoint where it all went wrong since then. It escalated slowly, silently, like cancerous growth until his occasional outbursts became a new norm, where you find yourself walking through a minefield more often than not, desperately trying not to set him off. Did you marry too young, perhaps? Should you have been better prepared for this, for a man like him, who leads an immensely stressful and fast-paced life? You run a finger over your hipbone, a particularly dark bruise there. It's sensitive to the touch. For once, you don't feel numb and detached from yourself, as hot tears prickle at your eyes. Will it ever be the way it was?

You pay for the dress, don't care that the lady at the till sees your reddened eyes, she won't say a word about it anyway. When you get into the car that has been patiently waiting for you outside, you apologise to the driver for how long you took, as always, in broken German. He nods, sympathetic. While you absentmindedly watch the raindrops race each other down the window, your driver speaks up. "Mrs Waltz, just one thing," he begins, searching for your eyes in the mirror. "I was told to inform you that your husband won't be able to make the flight to Italy on Saturday." Of course he won't. "He'll arrive Sunday evening, just in time for the event." "Oh." you say, indifferent, already picturing yourself spending the day alone in your hotel room. At least you won't have to deal with his unpredictable moods before the sponsor dinner. It's a very important night for everyone involved, you gather. Your husband is responsible for negotiating the extension of the sponsorship between Emirates Airlines and the Formula One Group. To him, this is his hunting ground; a crucial, profitable deal and a demonstration of his influence. To you... it's just aeroplanes and race cars. "Mr Waltz also acquired a paddock pass for you, in case you'd like to see the circuit on Saturday." Now that raises your brow. He normally can't stand it when you go places on your own and simply won't allow you to, most of the time. Yet, he wants you to watch the Grand Prix? "What am I supposed to do at a motor race?" you scoff, a little puzzled. "I won't even know what I'm looking at..." "Well, technically, it's not the race. It's the Qualifying," your driver corrects. "Mr Waltz thinks you might enjoy yourself." It's not that you dislike the sport or find cars to be terribly boring. But you've never been to a Grand Prix in your life, despite your husband's involvement in Formula 1. You're gonna feel (and look) massively out of place there, that's for sure. "Mr Waltz told me that you used have an interest in racing when you were a young girl," he adds. "You don't want to miss the chance to see those cars with your own eyes, then!" he says, and seems to be more enthusiastic about your husband's idea than you are. He is right, however - you did like to watch the races when you were younger. But the last time you saw one on TV must've been about fifteen years ago, and you were still a child then. "I... well, yes" you ponder, still not fully sold. "I guess I could go there for the afternoon..." And escape my marriage for a couple of hours, you quietly conclude. There’s a content smile on the driver’s face. Perhaps he’s happy that you get to go out and have fun for once. “Did you have a favourite driver back then?” he chirps. You ponder his question for a while before you answer.

“…I did.” you remember, and let your mind wander out of the car’s rain-painted window.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1blr

[missmaywemeetagain]

Moonlight, A Pink Scarf Universe Story

A/N: So, I was challenged to do a prompt game, and since I'm desperately trying to fight my perfectionism and become more consistent with my writing, I took on the challenge and wrote this dramatic little heartbreaker this afternoon just under the wire like crazy person. I hope you enjoy this short, barely edited extension of Pink Scarf. It takes place a few months after the Christmas 1960 flashback in Part 16. (Please go easy on me because it is literally the least revised/edited thing I've ever put out and I desperately hope you like it 💗)

Thanks to @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny for challenging me to do this even when I wanted to convince myself I couldn't do it.

Prompt: “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people.”

Rating: PG-13 || Word Count: 2k

TW: Miscarriage, medical trauma, angst, depression, intrusive thoughts

Moonlight

Hawaii, March 1961

The room is pressing in on you with all these jovial faces, celebrating in paradise after Elvis’ successful benefit concert for the Pearl Harbor Arizona Memorial. You should be celebrating with them.

You wish you could.

Instead, you are fighting back tears, praying that no one notices your frantic need to escape the otherwise wonderful atmosphere.

Elvis decided to bring you all along for a month-long vacation of sorts as he films his newest picture, Blue Hawaii, and performs the benefit concert to raise money for the Memorial. Y’all need some rest and recreation, he’d said joyfully, his eyes falling on you in particular, and how could you possibly refuse? It genuinely seemed like a great idea, even though he’d technically be working, and so would Jack by extension, but a change of scenery would do you some good after everything that's happened. Maybe you and Jack could reconnect on the tropical getaway, you’d thought.

But so much had happened since you agreed to this trip.

No one knew, of course. Not Jack. Not your family. Certainly not Elvis. You had made sure of it because you couldn’t stand the hopeful looks that would have come with the news, and the inevitable pity that would’ve come after.

The humid Hawaiian air coupled with the room full of people makes you feel as though you can’t draw a full breath. Lightheaded, you push your way through the throng of people filling the lavish home that had been rented for the express purpose of Elvis being able to stay comfortable and private during his shooting schedule. It’s an incredible relief once you burst out onto the patio, then stumble down the sandy path to the breathtaking beach.

Surprisingly, there’s not a soul on the moonlit sand, and for that you are eternally grateful because you cannot hold back your choked sobs any longer. The ebb and flow of the surf crashes over your crying, and you very much wish you could drown your sorrows in the vastness of the ocean in front of you.

Getting pregnant again was not even something you thought was possible. It was cruel, you thought, that you’d nearly made it 12 weeks this time before your body decided that it would reject the baby. You had just started to really, truly think it would be different this time. You were getting ready to tell Jack. You were almost, almost happy.

Even more cruel was that it was almost a year to the day of you bleeding out on the floor of the Rollerdome.

In some ways you’d been thankful that everyone had been so busy preparing for the trip that no one paid much mind to the fact that you locked yourself in the bathroom for hours, silently sobbing through the cramping and the bleeding and the clotting. You’d known then it was too late.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you hug your knees and begin to rock in the soft sand. At least it’s beautiful here, you think absently, trying to soothe yourself.

You’d taken to bed, claiming a bout of food poisoning, and no one was the wiser, being as excited and busy as they were. Not one of them seemed to bat an eye or think it was strange that no one else had any symptoms. A small part of you breaks a little at that, feeling more alone in the world than you ever have. But another part figures it’s just as well. Perhaps it is a blessing that no one knew of your latest failure. Honestly, you so were disappointed in yourself over it all you didn’t think could handle that disappointment from others, especially Jack.

Two days after losing your second child, you’d gotten on the plane to come here, spending hours upon hours with a false smile spread across your features. Maybe if you smiled enough you’d start to believe it. After all, you were in paradise with Elvis Presley. Millions would kill to be where you are.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Be grateful for what you have, you berate yourself, as you have more than once on the trip. Not even the stunning beauty of the island has been able to push your thoughts away from your loss, your seemingly unending sorrow permeating even the most beautiful of sunsets.

The only moment when you’d felt truly free of it had been watching Elvis’ concert earlier. He was so mesmerizing that it was impossible not to be caught up in his performance. You’d been happy for the momentary distraction, for the way your heart had flip flopped a little at the sight of him in his element, sweaty and feeding off the crowd effortlessly. It was easy to get swept away amongst all the screaming fans, to understand why the man you’d called a friend was the sensation that he was, and to forget everything but him for just a little while.

But by the time this stupid afterparty rolled around, the dark cloud that followed you this past year found you once more, and you were honestly too tired to push it away any longer.

You can’t help thinking how you should have an infant with you now, that in a kinder world you’d have your baby and perhaps another on the way. But the world is not always kind. Instead you are empty and alone.

So you find yourself sobbing on a gorgeous beach in Hawaii in the middle of the night, finally allowing yourself to sit in the grief of your misfortune.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out here before his tall, lanky frame towers over you, interrupting your grief so suddenly that you find yourself livid.

You furiously swipe the tears from your cheeks, knowing your makeup is smearing but not having the energy or wherewithal to care. “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people,” you snap.

Even in the darkness, you see how taken aback he is by your anger, his pretty face shifting from surprise to annoyance.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who brought you to this beautiful place?” Elvis says lightly, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s not used to people speaking like that to him, least of all you.

Honestly, you’re not really sure when you last spoke to him at all. Since your strange little embrace on Christmas, he’d taken to avoiding you most of the time, yet again. Coupled with how empty you felt from your miscarriages, the fact that your friend had been so obviously (and seemingly purposefully) absent from your life in the past year was heartbreaking in its own right. It was like a slap in the face on top of your other failures, so far from the unbridled excitement he’d shown when he’d discovered your first pregnancy before anyone else had. So far from the love and care and attention he’d given you before.

You’re not sure you really understood how much it bothered you until this very moment. His sudden entitlement for attention and gratefulness makes your blood boil.

You pop up off the sand, pushing your windblown hair out of your face. “Oh, yes, how sorry I am that not every one of my thoughts is about your stunning generosity, your majesty,” you say sarcastically, viciously, before turning to stomp down the beach away from him. You’ve never, ever spoken to him this way, to anyone this way, but the darkness of your sorrow has flared into something else entirely, this blistering anger threatening to swallow you whole and take Elvis with you.

“Excuse me?” he says indignantly, grasping your arm and whipping you back to face him. His eyes flash in the darkness, both in confusion and with warning.

“Don’t touch me!” you spit, ripping your arm out of his grasp.

“What has gotten into you? What the hell did I do?” he shouts, his voice raising over the surf.

“Not everything is about you, Elvis!” you scream back at him.

For a second, it looks as if you’ve slapped him across the face, with the way his eyes widen in surprise.

You pause for a moment, breath heaving, before continuing. “And since when do you even care what’s going on with me?”

 “W-What are ya talkin’ about? O-Of course I care! I-I-I brought ya on this trip, d-d-didn’t I?” The emotions fly over his features so quickly it makes it too hard to discern what he’s thinking, but his stutter belies his frustration.

“You’ve barely talked to me in a year, Elvis. Can’t imagine why I’d think you care,” you scoff.

His eyes go dark, then blank, that Hollywood mask of his sliding over his features. “You’re nuts! You’re just bein’ crazy…” he starts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I must be. I must be crazy thinkin’ my friend might give me the time of day after…everything that’s happened,” you hiss back.

Elvis blinks, his long lashes fanning over his cheekbones. You don’t know if he’s finally done the math in his head, figuring out that you nearly died and lost your baby almost exactly a year ago. Or maybe, like he’d somehow known you were pregnant the first time, he gleans some supernatural understanding of what might be happening with you now. Either way, his gaze softens dramatically.

“Oh, honey,” he says, “I didn’t—”

Yeah, you didn’t, you think bitterly. He didn’t do a lot of things. He wasn’t even there after you almost died. But you suppose being a star of his caliber didn’t leave him much time to slum it with you, not anymore. And why would he want to? Not when you’ve been depressed and have already failed at the one thing you felt you were created to do as a woman.

“Just leave me alone, E. You’ve gotten good at that,” you mutter, angry tears filling your eyes, turning away from him to stare out into the churning waves.

You can’t look at him. But you feel the heat of his eyes, nonetheless.

“Don’t do that, y/n,” he says quietly.

“Don’t do what? Speak the truth?”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he growls.

He doesn’t get to be angry. Not about this.

“No, you don’t know, Elvis. You have no idea what it’s been like, you couldn’t. And you haven’t even tried…” you trail off, shaking your head.

You know that’s a lie. Whatever had happened between you on Christmas had been something, as much as you’d tried to deny it and forget his strange behavior. Perhaps that had been him trying.

Suddenly, more than anything, you want him to pull you into his arms like he did that night three months ago. You want him to comfort you and let you sob against his chest, to inhale the distinct scent of him as the heat of his lean body presses into yours. You want the desperate tension that is climbing between you to shatter you and make you forget that the past year had ever happened.

But instead of drawing you close, you watch him put distance between you. You feel as he fortifies that invisible wall he’s built between you this past year. It’s only in the depths of his churning cobalt eyes that you see something akin to apology, along with something deeper that neither of you truly wants to unpack.

Then, Elvis shutters that churning away, his fist clenching and unclenching in time with his jaw. “Yeah, I guess not. I’ll leave ya alone, then.” And he turns and walks away.

Oh god. You feel as though you’ve been hit in the chest, pain radiating inexplicably through your torso, the claws of his dismissal ripping through your insides. You don’t know why. You wanted him to go, and he went.

You sink down into the sand, fresh tears pooling in your eyes, and you wish more than anything that the ocean would just swallow you whole.

Taglist:

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#prompt game #pink scarf #Moonlight: A Pink Scarf Universe Story #💗🧣💗 #A Pink Scarf Universe Story #Moonlight #elvis presley #elvis #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #austin butler elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis imagine #elvis imagine #elvis smut #elvis x you #missmaywemeetagain #madisyn may #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #bad girls club #tw: miscarriage

[bookshelfdreams]

Hi, if there is (going to be) an essay on lighthouse/kraken to mermaid evolution will you share it with us?

Wish you a wonderful evening!

& @roseinmyhand

awww don't enable me (jk I love to be enabled)

I know people like to interpret the Kraken/Lighthouse metaphor as a dichotomy between Ed and Stede - dark vs light, depth vs surface, the coast vs the open sea, the unknown vs the guide, and so on. We like it when characters contrast, and so, compliment and complete each other.

But I think the Kraken and the Lighthouse are codifications of the similarities Ed and Stede share. Emotionally, both struggle with the same thing: loneliness, denial of personhood, the feeling of not being understood and truly seen.

Lighthouses are heavily associated with isolation. The job of a lighthousekeeper is a lonely one; he is supposed to keep his post no matter what, to set aside his own needs and comforts to provide a service to the people who might - not even are, might! - be out there, looking for his light. There is a reason lighthouses are haunted places, associated with madness. Isolation will literally cause lasting psychological damage, and the one who locks himself in this tower to make sure the coasts are safe to sail risks his life, his health, his sanity in service to others.

This is what Stede sees himself as: Someone who is trapped by duty to perform a role that slowly kills him. And even though both the priest who introduces this metaphor into his life and Mary talk about them being lighthouses for each other, Stede says he alone was supposed to be one for my family. Even in this huge estate, with all the comfort money can buy and surrounded by his beautiful family, he feels cast out and disconnected. What he wants, his own happiness, is unimportant, only that he fill the role society has cast him in, no matter how painful he finds it.

And then there's Ed. Ed who, at first glance, seems to have everything anyone could want, too. His name alone strikes fear into the heart of anyone who hears it, he is successful beyond the wildest imagination. He has respect and reputation; by all metrics he truly made it. But he, too, is unable to really connect to anyone. He has no peers on his own ship and the one person who should be his confidant and right-hand man rejects him when he wants to share his thoughts and interests. Nobody really seems to care about Ed. People care about Blackbeard, care about him being a good pirate, and he is good at it! He doesn't feel crushed and suffocated in his life as Stede does in his. But we should not forget that this is not a life Ed chose for himself. He was pushed into it at a very young age, by a horrible act he felt he had no choice but commit.

Away from the cosmos of his own ship and crew, people do not even really see him as human. He is a fucking viking vampire clown, a bloodthirsty killer, spawn of the devil, his eyes are coal and his head is smoke. The whole time he knew Stede, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, was waiting for him to see what he really is (a monster, that's what people like Stede always end up thinking), and then when he seems to do just that? When Stede rejects him, after he has layed himself bare, after he just started to believe that here might be one who really gets him, like no one has before?

Ed just sees proven true everything he has always believed about himself. He isn't a person who can have fine things, sweet and gentle things, the world will never let him have them. It wants to dehumanize him? Fine, let them do that, he will become the thing under your bed, the creature that drags innocent sailors into the depths. He will never win acceptance, let alone love, but he can force people to fear him and by whatever god is listening, that's what he will do. He will retreat into the dark abyss, alone, because a legendary monster needs no company, and feels no heartache.

One might see how both these ways of conceptualizing the self through metaphor might be a little bit maladaptive.

So. Mermaids.

A lot of people (especially children and teenagers) who are marginalized and/or feel disconnected from their peers will develop a fondness for certain mythological creatures at some point in their lives. Witches, faeries, vampires, mermaids. Creatures that are almost human, but not quite. A thing that moves like you and speaks like you but isn't you - a thing that's strange and alien.

A creature walking among the humans undiscovered.

Mermaids especially have stories of that sort associated with them. A beautiful person with an ethereal singing voice, that will eat you if you dare get too close. A pretty maiden at the dance, the hem of her dress perpetually wet: If you go home with her, she will drag you to the bottom of the river. Someone who sheds their scales like a mantle, whose touch will always be cold, who may have a tail and fish skin only once a month, a year, a decade, and who will leave you if you ever dare to see the true form of them.

Creatures that make ships crack up on the rocks.

And yet. That are social and never alone, are they? Beautiful and mysterious, feared, but it's a fear tinged with admiration, with envy. With their own societies, their homes that can't be reached by air-breathing folk. Mermaids are creatures both of the depths and the surface, who live as they please. Who are ungovernable.

This, I think would make for a beautiful resolution to both Ed's and Stede's character development. Reject the expectations that hurt you, embrace the weird and strange (the queer things) about yourself, but recognize there are people who will be your allies if you let them. Society thinks you are a monster (and I think it's significant that they both get called monstrous), let them think it. It doesn't mean they are right when they call you worthless. You will find your own gang of monsters to be weird and terrifying together.

#basically! #you can integrate your feelings of monstrosity into your personality without it being toxic to your community ya feel #you can eat your enemies and still have friends #& i just think blackbonnet should be unhinged and a horror to witness. together <3 #thoughts #cakeeatingwingedcat #message #stede bonnet #edward teach #our flag means death

[yakumtsaki]

By popular demand of the two Wulf stans, here is the Wulf + Angel spare update! I don’t have a ton of pics because Angulf and Frances/Ti Ning are my plotless relaxation households so this is just a cute, drama-free, pet-filled interlude before the fuckery of college🐱🐶

So Angulf moved into this beautiful, gigantic house that I of course didn’t build and immediately got to work on Wulf’s insane ‘raise 20 puppies or kittens’ LTW. They adopted Calpurnia, Maximus, Scoprion, Mileena, and Ermac (aka the two spare dogs and three spare cats from the main house) as well as Vincent, Dali, and Pollock (aka the three out of four puppies that Brittany and Gunther’s dogs had).

Having 50000 pets comes with certain challenges, such as spending literally all your awake, non-working time taking care of them.

-It’s worth it! -It sure is, Wulfie! In fact, I think we should make this even worse and add a baby to the mix! -I couldn’t agree more, darling!

Oh God, FINE

Angel and Calpurnia got preggo at the same time and they spend all their time together, too cute ❤️

So Calpurnia had four puppies with Pollock, aka Bernard, Vera, Louis, and Charlie-

-and Angel and Wulf had.. Wilfred. Insert weary sigh. You’ll enjoy him in college, here he is torturing Bernard. 

-Fuck, that’s a LOT of dogs. 

How about you be the change you wanna see in the world and have some kittens already, Scorpion??

Scoprion finally finds love and has kittens with Heidi, the only pet in this household he hasn’t beaten up. Romantic!  

Now that things have settled down a bit Wulf and Angel both get jobs in medicine and we make the shocking discovery..

..THAT JACK DO IS A DOCTOR. OH MY GOD

-BOOOO, BOOO PETS BOOO

-YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE, JACK DO?!

Get him, Bernard!!! This is a Jack-Do-free zone!

The amount of pee puddles in this house is something else-

-but that doesn’t stop Sophie from showing up LITERALLY EVERY DAY to hang out with the pets.

Angel completes her Chief of Staff LTW..

-GOD SHE’S SO HOT WHEN SHE’S REALIZING HER DREAMS 

..And Wulf also becomes Chief of Staff a few days later, but of course his heart aspires to more important things.

-PUPPIES. KITTIES.

Yes Wulf, we know.

It’s become clear Angel and Wulf are legit soulmates, she keeps rolling wants to get a puppy or a kitten and actually made 10 pet best friends before Wulf LOL. Out-Komei’d by your own wife!

It’s birthday/Wilfred fucking off to college time! Pink Scarf Wren is apparently also a doctor, so God help you if you get sick in this town. 

Angulf remains eternally in love, and eternally surrounded by no less than 4 dogs at any given moment❤️

-ANGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL🎵 -Oh Wulfie, your tenor voice is the same since college! -It’s even deeper now, because of the pet hair I’ve inhaled!

-Ah, isn’t having this many pets such a blessing, Glitchy Butler #3? -Yes, it sure is something. I love how they wait for me to be done mopping so they can piss in the exact same spot.

Well you don’t like it when they piss by the stairs either, Glitchy, make up your mind.

-AWWW what a cute doggie! -Everyone in position? -Copy. -Ok she’s squatting, get her wallet, GO GO GO

-ROCK GRANDMA IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT

Pop art painting girl: Please move me. 

Have you ever wondered what 3 simultaneous pet fights taking place in the same spot look like? Wonder no more!

Ok so now that Angulf is retired we are legit broke, I’ve never been happier to see the genie in my life. 

-Hmmm, I’ve already asked for money, maybe I should ask for something else now.. -ASK FOR MORE MONEY YOU STUPID ASSHOLE -WE WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T

So the pet situation around here might kinda be completely out of control:

And yet this lot hasn’t crashed once?? The power of love❤️

IT’S OVER. IT’S DONE. WE RAISED 20 PUPPIES AND KITTENS!!!!

-You did it, sweetheart, congratulations!!! -Oh darling, I couldn’t have done it without you, this was truly a folie à deux situation! 

Folie à trois if you count me!

-We don’t.

RUDE. And they lived happily ever after, with the only successful marriage this family has ever produced :)

#gen 3 #spare update #ts2

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e21 king of the damned (w. eugenie ross-leming, brad buckner)

LOL cas you can let go now

dear lord i'm tired after just the recap. angels, metatron/gadreel, abaddon, crowley and his addiction, hellhounds, etc etc

angel handcuffed, slow clompy walk, "is that him??" cas appears. i giggled, not gonna lie

CASTIEL That brings me to why you're here. We have a prisoner. It's an angel from Metatron's inner circle. I need to know what they're planning, but so far, he's revealed nothing. DEAN So, you're done with the rough stuff, and you want us to be your goons? CASTIEL Well, you've had success at these situations before. If you don't want to do it, I understand. DEAN Who says I don't want to do it?

blegh. you know how i feel about the torture stuff, especially in relation to dean. and cas calling them in specifically just to torture information out of this angel. for a just cause though, of course, that makes it okay :|

truly enjoying sam's hair this season combined with very proportionately sized sideburns and now that we're finally less orange looking consistently. lookin good mister padalecki. dean looks like a slight wreck and like he's dissociating

wow show and boys, solving a problem without torture???? i am impressed! (seriously thank you eugenie and brad)

so much smiling and getting to put on this manipulative little show for the dude, fun to watch

cute cute (ignoring this whole abaddon bringing his son from the 1700s thing to force his hand is.... whatever this is)

GAVIN You sold your soul?! Sold it?! For an extra three inches of willy?!

did we know this? i feel like maybe but i can't remeber lol

so i wonder how much was shaved, he has enough hair i think he could have an undercut there and still have more than enough. wonder if that's part of why i like it so much more. i know i've seen him with it up in a bun a couple times so i could go see when that was but that's waaaay too much effort

oh, dean and his slice and dice mark of cain flashback. again, fic gave me the impression the mark was going to be central to goings on but there's just so many subplots nothing really is central

maybe they should just keep a couple pairs of nitrile gloves on hand so, for example, they don't have to raw dog rifling through a corpse. a very slimy corpse

okay so crowley used sam and dean's go word and dean isn't telling sam because? (because he's not making good decisions either) and being all shifty

CASTIEL Just as poor judgement undid you all those centuries ago, your mistaken trust in Metatron will bring you down again.

rich coming from you, cas 😂

okay weird fake solid blue birds. twitter product placement?? LOL

CROWLEY Hello, Dean. Love the crazy bloodlust in your eyes.

must be really smitten now. bye abaddon, you were moderately fun and very beautiful to look at

CROWLEY You owe me. Do I get no credit for warning you this was a trap? [SAM looks perplexed.] CROWLEY "Poughkeepsie" ring a bell? I sense drama.

his gleeful little laugh was cute

DEAN Well, I don't know what to tell you. Them's the rules. He goes back. SAM The lore all says the same thing -- you change any one thing in the past, the ripple effect impacts everything that follows. CROWLEY Please. No one bends the rules like you two bend the rules.

made me laugh, points being made!

CROWLEY I'll cheer the day when the last trace of humanity leaves me. Feelings.

relatable

DEAN First time I touched that Blade...I knew. I knew that I wouldn't be stopped. I knew I would take down Abaddon and anything else if I had to. And it wasn't a hero thing. You know, it wasn't... It was just calm. I knew. And I had to go it alone, Sammy. SAM Oh. Of course. So it was just another time where you had to protect me. DEAN You could've gotten nabbed by Abaddon, and she could've bargained her way out. We couldn't afford to screw this up.

okay but dean how about you have that conversation beforehand instead. asking for permission/begging for forgiveness

also can't remember sam turning in his seat like that before in one of these feelings-laden chats, really means business. so... effusive in his concern and everything lately

sam's soaking up all the empathy leaking out of dean

SAM Look...I'm glad it worked out, okay? I am. And I'm glad the Blade gives you strength or calm or whatever, but, Dean, I got to say... I'm starting to think the Blade is doing something else, too. DEAN Yeah? Like what? SAM I don't know. Like, something to you. Look... I'm thinking until we know for sure that we're gonna kill off Crowley, why don't we store the Blade somewhere distant? Lock it up somewhere safe? Okay? DEAN No.

well i'm glad we get to hear about the effects of the mark/blade combo finally. it's really been the backburner plotline. again i know what it leads to, but not how we get there

this episode made the angel politics about as tolerable/interesting as i think they can get, so woo for that (missing the days of cas popping in and getting irritated because he's in the middle of an offscreen war)

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 9x21 #eugenie ross leming #brad buckner

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 106 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: The Galactica Fashion Week Runway show went off without any major malfunctions. 

This Chapter: Welcome to the Afterparty! Networking, awkwardness, flirting, drunken shenanigans and a threat of homicide (or not…we certainly didn’t hear anything). 

***

There was a genuine smile on Fame’s face after the show closed, and Trixie could finally relax.

The show was a success. Everything was fine.

Of course, there would be the evaluations, the meetings, the press, the sales figures, but none of that really mattered if Fame wasn’t satisfied with what they had created.

In reality, Trixie just wanted to go home, to spend time with Katya, but he had promised Fame to hang around at the party, had even changed into a suit and tie for it, the jacket as always restrictive and uncomfortable. There were still plenty of shows, Raja and Fame would be leaving for Europe on monday at the latest, but as far as Trixie was concerned, his role at fashion week was fulfilled, at least until the late spring. 

Trixie took a sip from his champagne flute. He had hesitated before grabbing one, his sense of solidarity towards Katya’s sobriety even fiercer now that she was pregnant, but he was allowed a glass to celebrate a well-received collection. 

“Trixie!”

Trixie coughed, nearly choking on his drink as he came face to face with none other than Chad Michaels. Chad was one of New York’s most well known philanthropists, and therefore also someone that everyone in fashion had some sort of working relationship with, since she constantly needed new fabulous clothes. 

Chad was in her 60s, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying and experimenting with fashion, her dress for the night a gorgeous Galactica in beautiful cranberry red from the holiday collection.

“Just the man I needed to see!” Chad smiled as she grabbed his elbow, a slightly manic look in her eyes, heavy jewelry dangling from her ears, the scent of Chanel reaching his nose. “The closing dress. Has anyone claimed it? Please tell me I’m the first one!”

“Ah.” Trixie should have expected that Chad wanted to buy it. She was one of their most loyal customers, constantly photographed in their designs, and never shying away from praising the brand. Of course she would want Violet’s dress. Their newest designer had really outdone herself yet again. “I’m really sorry, but I think it’s an archival.”

The Galactica archive was something to behold, Ivy guarding it with her life, the room temperature controlled and as secure as any bank vault. Trixie hadn’t heard Raja make the final decision, but he had seen the look on Fame’s face, had felt the mood shift amongst the audience as they were moved by the piece.

It was too early to tell, but Trixie wouldn’t be surprised if fashion journalists would look back at this very show as a pivotal moment in Galactica’s history.

“I’ll be damned.” Chad sighed heavily. “I was hoping to wear it for the Met.”

“You haven’t decided on a dress?” The Met Gala was only three months away, the first Monday in May approaching at a worrying pace.

“I thought I did, but nothing truly inspires. You know how it is.”

Trixie nodded. Unsure of what to do, how to help, when he spotted exactly who he needed in the crowd.

“Violet!”

Violet turned, and he beckoned her over. She walked towards them, and as Trixie took in her bright eyes, the pink flush of her cheeks, he realized that she must be quite tipsy. He wondered if bringing her over was a mistake, but too late now. So instead he put an arm around her shoulders. 

“Violet is one of our most fabulous couture designers. She designed the closing look that you love so much.” 

“You did?” Chad asked, eyes widening as she took Violet in. 

“Yes.”

“Congratulations dear,” Chad said, lifting her glass in a toast. “You have a great talent.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Now, of course, I’ll talk to them about the dress you want, but if I can’t make that happen, what would you say to this extremely talented young lady whipping you up something custom for the Met Gala?” 

Violet turned to him, a panicked look on her face, gripping his jacket. “But, Raja-”

Shit. He hadn’t told her that Raja rejected all of her designs, or that he’d enlisted other concepts from Aurora, because he didn’t want to stress her out this week, not with everything she was dealing with being back in Fame’s office. And he certainly couldn’t explain all that right here, right now. He leaned in and spoke softly, under his breath. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll work it out. Just play along, we’re making a sale.” 

Violet nodded, and turned back towards Chad with a smile, who was looking at them with a delighted expression, hands clasped together. 

“Well that sounds divine! With your design genius and my impeccable taste, we’re bound to blow them all away!” Chad smiled, then glanced around before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Granted, I do wish the theme was better, but…whatever Anna says goes, eh?” 

Trixie laughed, and looked over to see that Violet was giggling too. He relaxed a bit, feeling good, that Violet and Chad would at least get along fine, and that maybe this way she wouldn’t be too heartbroken about losing the Raja job. 

***

“Okay,” Symone exclaimed, lifting her arms in the air. “Who’s ready for the next round?!” 

“Almost,” Adore laughed, her arm draped loosely around Tati’s waist, pulling her in to say, “Have I told you how much I like your new roommates? They’re fucking fun.” 

“They are,” Tati giggled, “but not good at pacing themselves.” Tati lifted her cocktail, the vodka soda a model standard that Adore knew all too well. “I’m not even halfway done with this one, how are you ready for another round?” 

“These drinks are free and the booze is premium. Keep up!” Symone exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Right, Bim?” 

“One sec.” Bimini tossed back the last of her whiskey and set the glass down on the table heavily. “Alright, love. Lead the way.” 

“Yaaaas!” Symone pranced towards the bar, Bimini following close behind. 

Tati turned to Adore, shaking her head. “I thought we drank a lot, but those girls. They fucking drink. It’s a little worrying. I mean, we’re like, at work.” 

“You’re cute,” Adore laughed some more, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She’d been thoroughly annoyed when Bianca left, but maybe it was for the best. After all, now she had a chance to hang out with Alaska, Tati and her friends, and avoid the tense adult drama altogether. 

“Thanks.” Tati smiled, then lowered her eyes, biting her lip. 

“You okay, babe?” 

“Yeah…um…I should probably tell you something.” 

“Okay?” 

Tati closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Wait, what’s wrong?” Adore asked, squeezing her forearm. “You’re freaking me out!” 

“I’m sorry. It’s probably not that big a deal, just…so, when we were backstage, Pearl was walking around. Taking pictures and shit.” 

“Oh. Right.” Adore was trying not to think about her ex, wandering around the party, though of course she knew she was there. Maybe someday it would be possible to be in the same room as Pearl and ignore her presence entirely, but unfortunately, Adore hadn’t reached that stage just yet. 

“Anyway…” Tati played with the cuffs of Adore’s jacket, biting her lip. “She clearly didn’t recognize me. Or like, remember that we’d hung out like ten times while y’all were dating, because…um…” 

“She hit on you, didn’t she?” Adore asked. She could see how clearly uncomfortable Tati was, and wanted to end her suffering as quickly as possible. 

“Yeah. But I told her to fuck off! I mean, I didn’t quite say ‘fuck off,’ cause I was like, not trying to get fired, but she got the message loud and-”

Adore wrapped her arms around Tati and pulled her in for the biggest, warmest hug. 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too! You’re not mad, are you?” Tati asked, face tucked into her neck. 

“At you? Of fucking course not!” Adore pulled back, taking both of Tati’s hands in hers. “But…I mean, thank you, for being loyal and shit. But…do you like her?” 

“No! After how she treated you? I think she’s an asshole,” Tati said. 

Adore grinned and nodded, squeezing her hands. In spite of feeling absolutely self-righteous about it at the time, Adore had been feeling some creeping guilt about the way she’d handled things with Dahlia. Maybe the situation wasn’t as black and white as she’d first assumed. Especially after her recent conversations with Aja, and getting back into band practice. 

“Okay,” she said. “But…I mean, we’ve both moved on, obviously, so…if you did like her-”

“Bitch, she didn’t deserve you, which means she doesn’t deserve me,” Tati said, with a toss of her long, dark hair. 

Adore laughed, hugging her again. 

“I love you, so much.” 

“You said that already.” 

“I know. But I really do.” 

“Same,” Tati replied, lashes fluttering.

“Uhh…hi? Am I interrupting something?” asked a voice, and Adore turned to see Alaska, looking a bit awkward, albeit fabulous, in a leopard-print pencil skirt and cropped black cardigan with turquoise trim, appletini in her hand.   

“Lasky!” Adore broke away from Tatianna and threw her arms around Alaska, exclaiming, “Everyone looked amazing, omigod! Where have you been?!” 

“Hi, thanks! Uh, long story, one of the freelance artists had an issue, but everything’s fine now. Are you guys, um…” her eyes darted back and forth between Adore and Tati. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good. Just having a bestie moment. Obviously you know Tati. You’re the one responsible for her face looking like fucking perfection.” 

“Me and some stunning genetics, yup. Hello, Tatianna,” Alaska held out a hand for a strangely formal handshake. “Incredible work on the runway today.”

“Hi again,” Tati said, “Thanks.”

“So…I guess your sister’s not here?” Alaska asked.

“Don’t get me started,” Adore said, rolling her eyes. 

“Right. Well, please tell her I said hi. I was looking forward to chatting about the makeup shoot.” 

“Sure.” 

Alaska took a sip of her drink, arm wrapped around Adore’s waist. After a beat, Tati and Adore exchanged a look. The energy was slightly weird, but Adore couldn’t exactly put her finger on why. Luckily, before she could worry too much, Bimini and Symone returned with the next round and soon everyone was chatting, the awkwardness forgotten. 

***

“Hey, stranger…” 

Karl turned to see Detox, his hair a cool, wintery blue that matched his sport coat, a wicked smirk on his face. He’d meant to say hi to him before the show, but had gotten stuck in traffic and only arrived with moments to spare, sliding into his seat just in the nick of time, his heart pounding at the thought of incurring Fame’s infamous wrath. 

“Hi!” Karl pulled Detox in for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. “Why do you look like the cat that swallowed the canary? Got some big scoop?” 

“Well, sort of, but unfortunately, not one I can use,” he said. 

“Why not?” 

“The girls are still fighting,” Detox said pointedly, raising his blue brows and shaking his head. 

“Ugh, that again?” Karl rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, Bianca shot out of here like a bat out of hell, the second the show was over. Made some sorry excuse about another commitment.” 

“It’s been literal months,” Karl said, “Don’t they have anything more interesting to worry about?” 

“Why don’t you ask Fame?” Detox suggested, nodding towards the woman of the hour, who was striding towards them, her cream-colored cape billowing behind her, a beautiful woman in pale pink at her side. Detox sipped his drink, giving Karl another gleeful sideways glance. A dare. 

Well, two could play that game. Karl pursed his lips and cocked his head, asking, “Why don’t you, tough guy?” 

Detox blinked, and then his smirk grew slightly as he turned towards the women. 

“Fame!” 

Fame stopped and turned to them, her typically placid hostess smile on her face. 

“Hello my darlings. How are you? Did you enjoy the show?” She walked forward, giving each of them air kisses. 

“It was divine as always,” Karl cooed, happy to hang Detox out to dry on this one.

“Yes, wonderful,” Detox said. “And-” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Karl Westerberg, Elite London.” Karl reached out to the young woman beside Fame, offering his hand, as Detox rolled his eyes, annoyed at the interruption. 

“Hi. Shea Coulee. I’m a journalist, doing a profile of Miss Fame for Vogue.” 

“Vogue, did you say?” Karl raised an eyebrow, just slightly. That certainly was interesting. “Fabulous.”

“Speaking of Vogue,” Detox cut in. “I noticed a certain someone seemed in an awful hurry to get out of here after the show.” 

“If you mean Ms. Wintour, she’s right over there,” Shea said, gesturing to the other side of the party, where Anna Wintour was talking to Grace Coddington and Vanessa Van Cartier.

“No, I didn’t mean Anna. I meant…another Editor-in-Chief we all know…” Detox said, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “And I was just wondering if you had any opinions, thoughts…feelings to share about that?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Fame said. “And I’m also sure that if you keep gossiping about things in this manner, that I have a way to kill you that won’t ever be traced back to me.” 

Fame smiled at him, the icy one with daggers in her eyes she reserved for special times. 

“You do realize that you just threatened homicide in front of a witness and a journalist, right?” Detox asked, eyes wide with feigned shock. 

“Doesn’t that tell you how absolutely sure I am that I won’t even be a suspect?” Fame asked, that smile back that should have terrified Detox more than it apparently did. It certainly terrified Karl. “Besides, Karl didn’t hear anything, did you Karl?” 

“Hear anything about what?” Karl asked quickly, playing along. 

“Traitor!” Detox muttered.

“I assume this conversation is off the record?” asked Shea. 

“Well,” Fame twirled the stem of her champagne glass, looking Detox up and down slowly. “Is Detox important enough that it matters?” 

Shea smirked, catching on perfectly, mimicking her supercilious gaze before saying, “Probably not.” 

“Good,” Fame answered. 

Detox opened his mouth as if to protest, but nothing came out. 

Fame patted him on the shoulder, smoothing down his lapel with a victorious smirk. 

“Bye, boys. Behave,” she said, turning on her heel and sashaying off, Shea right at her side. 

***

Bob technically wasn’t supposed to have a tray, but all it took was a little of his signature charm, some flirting with one of the servers, and bam! Now he had nearly 20 shots he could easily carry back to his table. On the way, he spotted little Violet, who looked like she’d had a few herself, all alone. 

“Violet!” he called, grinning. 

“Oh, hi!” she looked up and smiled back. She was wearing a black dress with long sleeves and a high neck, the outfit screaming unimportant assistant.

As he approached, he made sure the shots were balanced before slinging an arm around her. It was nice that Upstairs let them attend these parties in the first place. Bob sure wasn’t gonna be the one to give them a reason to stop. 

“Hey girl! What are you doing all by yourself? Where’s Sutan?”

“Working-“

“Boring!” Bob groaned and Violet giggled, a smile of her lips as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear. 

“Actually, I was just talking to-“

“Is it work related?”

“… Yes?”

“Then I don’t want to hear it tonight.” Bob looped his arm with Violet’s. “Come celebrate with us! Everyone wants to toast to you and that finale dress! You fucking slayed the house down!”

Violet laughed and rolled her eyes, following him to the table where some of the other designers were waiting, along with a few friends. 

Kade, especially, seemed thrilled to see her, squealing and throwing his arms around her, then immediately pressing a shot into her hand. Several rounds later, Sutan finally showed up, looking a bit frazzled and worried, but recovering nicely as soon as he saw that his girlfriend was all in one piece, safe and emotionally sound.

“Sutan!” Violet gave an uncharacteristic yelp of delight, throwing her arms around Sutan’s neck and placing sweet kisses all over his face, Sutan laughing at the unexpected shower of pecks.

“Heyyy, it’s the boyfriend of the year!” Bob said, looking up at him with a grin as Sutan pulled away from Violet, carefully unpeeling her.

“Hi, Bob,” Sutan smiled. “Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Bob nudged Maxwell on the shoulder, knowing his boyfriend’s little crush was something that gave him endless embarrassment. “Maxwell, say hi to Sutan.”

“Stop it,” Maxwell hissed, then said, “Hi Sutan. Thank you for, um…the models.”

He cringed, and Bob patted him on the back. 

“I hope they were well-behaved. Especially the new ones,” Sutan said. 

“Oh, oh yeah, they did a great job,” Maxwell said. 

“There ya go, that wasn’t so hard,” Bob whispered. 

“I hate you,” Maxwell said under his breath, through gritted teeth, the smile still plastered over his face. He focused back on Sutan, offering, “Would you like to have a seat?”

“Oh, that’s alright, I’m just here to check up on Violet,” he said, passing her a drink. 

“Are we leaving yet?” Violet asked, confused.

“No, no. I still have laps to make. You just stay with your friends. I simply wanted to make sure you were alright and still here. I’d hate to have to sacrifice another set of shoes later.”

Violet’s eyes bulged open. “Sutan!”

“What?” Kade asked, confused. “Shoes? What’s he talking about?”

Bob perked up, deeply interested. What could have made her react so strongly? This sounded like a story he had to hear. 

“Nothing! He’s talking about nothing!” Violet said, shooting a death glare up at him making Sutan laugh.

Bob smiled to himself, lifting another shot to his lips. He’d keep that one under his hat for now; he could always grill Ms. Chachki later, maybe trade it for something once she was back in design. 

Kade leaned forward, resting his chin on his knee, gazing up at Sutan. “Has anyone ever told you that you have real Daddy energy?” he asked, lashes fluttering. 

Maxell immediately turned as red as a beet and elbowed him hard in the ribs. 

“OW!” Kade shrieked. “What?! He does!” 

“Thank you, Kade,” Sutan laughed, “I think?” 

“You’re welcome,” Kade said, leaning back, a smug grin on his face. He stuck his tongue out at Maxwell for good measure. 

Maxwell turned to Bob with a scowl, muttering, “Next time you bring him, don’t forget the shock collar.” 

“Have another drink, Cracks,” Bob said, handing over a shot.

“Um…” Violet looked up at Sutan, blinking slowly. “I actually think I have…had one or two more than I…um…” 

“Are you saying you want to take off?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes,” Violet said. She extended her arm and let Sutan pull her up into a standing position. 

The guys called out their farewells, with Kade sure to sneak in a “Bye Daddy!” before diving into Bob’s lap for protection from Maxwell. 

***

“Mmh,” Raja hummed against Raven’s lips, the two of them kissing. She knew it was the Galactica party, and that she should mingle as much as possible, but Raven was just utterly irresistible tonight.

There was nothing sexier than a Raven who glowed with confidence, who oozed the knowledge that she was hot, that knew she had done a good job, and few things boosted Raven as much as a fashion show gone well.

Raja moved, pressing Raven against the wall, holding her by the waist and kissing her neck, the scent of perfume filling her nose.

“Raj-” Raven moaned, cutting herself off, nudging her with her face. “Raja. My hair.”

Raja looked down, a strand of Raven’s hair caught in her watch, black and silver tangled together.

“Fuck.” Raja moved, which made Raven wince, a laugh escaping both of them as Raven grabbed her wrist and carefully freed her hair. 

“Sorry.” Raja wrinkled her nose, settling her hands on Raven’s hips, giving her a squeeze as she leaned in to kiss her again, when Raven suddenly pulled away.

“Violet!” Raven waved, her boobs pressing against Raja’s chest, her fiancée practically crawling over her shoulder. “Over here!”

Raja turned her head, watching as Sutan and Violet came towards them, her brother smiling and waving back. Violet was clinging to his arm, leaning on his shoulder, and Raja couldn’t help the stab of annoyance at the sight, Violet practically acting like she owned him.

They all greeted each other, Raven grabbing Violet and hugging her tightly as Sutan pressed a kiss against Raja’s cheek, his low rumble switching to Indonesian. 

[Congratulations] Sutan pulled back slightly, [on another job beautifully done.] He grinned, his eyes sparkling, delight dancing in his expression. [You up to split a cab?]

[Not sure I should leave yet. It’s sort of my company.]

[Oh yeah, and you’re doing so much networking over here], Sutan chuckled, wiping a bit of Raven’s lipstick off of the corner of her mouth. 

“Touché,” Raja smirked, allowing her brother to touch her. [Okay, let’s go home.]

“Ooh! I know that word!” Raven perked up, making both Raja and Sutan laugh. “We’re leaving, right?”

“I’m glad to see your language studies are finally picking up, Raven.” Sutan smiled. “It took what? Five years?”

“And for that…“ Raven reached out, taking Sutan’s tie between her fingers, “you can come get the jackets with me.”

Raja hadn’t expected Raven to volunteer, such a menial task something she usually let others do for her, her fiancée the exact spoiled brat Raja herself had created. 

She watched her walk away, but then, Raven glanced over her shoulder, a smoldering look in her eyes, a swing in her hips, and Raja realized that it was a tease just for her, leaving her behind with nothing for company but the throb of her clit.

That, and Violet, of course. 

Violet was leaning against the wall, apparently completely content not to speak, her normally shrewd eyes wandering listlessly over the crowd, head lolling back. She definitely wasn’t her typical put-together self. Too many drinks from the open bar after a day of running around on an empty stomach, she suspected. 

Raja didn’t think she hated Violet, but she didn’t have anything to say to her that wasn’t about work. 

Unless…

The Galactica party was - obviously - filled with beautiful women, and Raja was struck with an idea. She quickly swept the crowd, looking for someone, anyone, that stood out from the rest. This would be the perfect time to get her uncensored opinions.��

She tried to remember which model Violet had been enamored with during the casting—unfortunately, she was so annoyed in that moment that she forgot to make note of the girl, but she did seem to remember that it wasn’t one of the waif-y stick-thin ones, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t a white girl, either. 

She spotted someone just right, heading towards the bar. One of their influencers, a sexy Filipino girl with an ass to die for (especially in the thigh-high Louboutins she had on), her long, glossy curls bouncing as she walked. 

“What do you think of her?” Raja nudged Violet’s arm, pointing out the young woman with a subtle nod of her head.

“Marina Summers?”

Raja smirked, not really surprised that Violet knew the name of everyone at the party, even in this state. She was Fame’s assistant after all, so she had probably pored over the guest list, making sure to memorize it all, in case Fame needed it. 

“Yes, her. Cute outfit, right?”

“Mmm. I like her handbag. Very on trend right now,” she said, a slight slur in her voice. 

Raja rolled her eyes. Marina was wearing a low-cut, backless mini-dress that barely covered her ass, but of course her handbag was what Violet commented on. Raja decided to try again, gesturing to a stunning girl with rich, dark skin, an hourglass figure, and a fur coat hanging off her shoulders. All she wanted was for Violet to drunkenly comment on her body, her tits, something she could use.

“What about her? Isn’t she pretty?”

 Violet turned to Raja with a puzzled expression, blinking slowly. “Are you trying to find someone for a campaign?” 

Raja cringed inwardly, realizing what a nightmare it would be for her if Violet repeated their conversation back to Raven. She was disappointed that her plan had failed, but better that than to get in trouble. 

“Yeah. We’re…well, I had an idea to maybe bring some more faces on board for this year’s resort collection. Not just models, but maybe some people with real followings,” she said, covering quickly, adding, “I haven’t talked to Pearl or Alyssa though, what do you think?” 

“Oh, uhh…that’s not really my area.” 

“Fair enough.” Raja sighed, noting with some relief that Sutan and Raven were heading back their way. “Looks like you’re off the hook.”

***

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Pearl said, winking. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the older woman purred, vodka oozing from her pores as she leaned in to press her lips to Pearl’s cheek. 

Pearl knew that working the room was an important part of her job. (Especially her current company, a brand manager who had been giving them free liquor and bartenders at every party for the past three years in exchange for a rather modest company credit on Galactica’s website.)

However, she’d been at it all evening, and it was starting to get a bit tiresome. Even professional schmoozers needed a break once in awhile. So as soon as she’d extricated herself from the woman’s clutches, she took a deep breath and looked around for a friendly face, maybe a coworker with whom she could chill for a few minutes, just to catch her breath. Luckily, a couple of designers were nearby. And to Pearl’s delight, she noticed that April was among them. 

She wondered why she’d never paid much attention to April previously. After all, she was definitely hot, and talented, and if their conversation earlier was any indication, she liked to play. Pearl fixed her face into a sad expression and approached the designers, looking as dejected as possible. 

“Good lord, Pearl!” Blu exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

Pearl heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yeah…”

“Oh my god…” April muttered, shaking her head.

“What’s wrong?” Gia asked.  

“I just, um…have been having a rough…” Pearl sighed again. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” April said. She laughed and took a sip of her drink. 

“April!” Blu admonished.

“Guys, she’s full of-” 

“I thought you said that you’d talk to me about…nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you…” Pearl hung her head and turned slowly, taking a few steps away from the table. 

“Pearl! Don’t go!” Gia cried. “April, what’s wrong with you?!”

“Ay dios mio…”

April hurried to catch up with her, just like Pearl hoped she would, grabbing her arm. 

“Would you knock it off?” she hissed into her ear. 

Pearl turned to her with a mischievous smirk. “Knock what off?”

“You are some piece of work.” April rolled her eyes. 

“You love it.”

“I need another drink if I’m gonna hang out with you.” 

“So, you do want to hang out with me, then,” Pearl said triumphantly.

April scowled at her, but then a smile began to crack through, and she turned on her heel, marching towards the bar. Pearl followed, checking out her pert little ass in the process. Very nice. 

“Hey, can we get two double shots of Don Q rum?” April asked the bartender. 

“You tryin’ to get me drunk?” Pearl asked, flashing a grin at her as she slid in beside her. 

“I’m trying to make the experience of being with you more enjoyable,” April replied.

“Wow. A dagger, straight to the heart.”

April laughed, taking the shots from the bartender with a nod and shoving one towards Pearl, letting their fingers touch briefly. She bit her lip, looking at Pearl in the eyes, raising her glass. Pearl lifted hers as well. 

“Salud,” Pearl said. 

“Salud,” April replied, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth before tossing back most of the rum in one gulp. 

Pearl grinned, impressed, downing hers as well. 

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #adore delaska #raja x raven #april x pearl #bob x cracker #bob x gottmik #vitan #trixie mattel #chad michaels #violet chachki #adore delano #tatianna #alaska thunderfuck #manila luzon #detox icunt #miss fame #shea coulee #bob the drag queen #gottmik #miz cracker #raja gemini #raven #pearl liaison #april carrion #symone #bimini bon boulash #blu hydrangea

[powderkiwi]

I was watching the video Lonely by Justin Bieber the other day on YouTube, Jacob Tremblay plays Justin’s younger self in the video.

Whilst I understand this song is very personal to Justin, I wonder if Jacob may identify with a lot of the lyrics too.

I was watching Jacob working on Luca in one of those behind the camera docos, he was constantly looking for direction and more over approval of his performance from the director.

When he was younger Jacob in many ways could rely on his cuteness and marketable voice to assist him in getting a role, that with his exceptional acting ability was a trifecta. As he’s growing up, the first two factors which made him so appealing are slowly becoming a memory, he now has to rely on his acting ability alone and there are heaps of good teen actors out there he has to compete with.

He must feel under a considerable amount of pressure, there are echos of the Bobby Driscoll saga here in its earliest days, I hope for Jacob’s sake he has the right people around him…having a yes crowd around you is never good, something Justin realised was a significant factor in some of the more torrid moments in his career.

Jacob seems like a great person, but don’t forget most things we see on screen and in interviews are a persona created to meet our expectations (fans) and those of possible future employers. (Producers) I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, it’s his job… every actor, writer, director.. sod it human being, does the same thing. We very rarely show people who we truly are..it keeps us safe, a barrier between the sometimes beautiful, but more often than not ugly world within which we live.

Jacob is after all a working tween as he says in #Goodboys, who earns a significant amount of income. His family, agents, all benefit financially from his success. He therefore carries a huge load on his young shoulders and I hope that he remembers that he’s first and foremost still a kid, When he’s older, will he look back at this period of his life as an opportunity lost. So many former child actors have shared how they really regret missing their childhood because they were always working. Money isn’t everything, happiness cannot be purchased, it comes from the environment you live in and the people that surround and influence your choices. Honesty, integrity and love are the values we should all look for in our friends and partners, as an ancient knight once said” Choose wisely”,

#justin bieber #jacob tremblay #goodboys #child actors

[tkc-info]

The Unhappy Bride

Day 12 - woods

@wagner-fell @chibi-tsukiko @littleturtle95

1864

“Is this place of your fancy?” Hannah asked “I gather it is quite isolated. Nevertheless, I find it rather dreamlike, much like the dwellings of those fairies the Scottish talk of.”

Agnes looked around the woods; Hannah had found a very fetching, small clearing to picnic in, it was truly wonderful and mysterious how she always knew the best spots in the most obscure of places. Agnes hadn’t even known there was a woods they could visit while living in London to begin with.

“I shall lay the blanket here,” she announced, putting the checkered green-and-white blanket on her arms and placing it in the centre of the clearing.

“And you, Little Soldier,” Hannah set a hand on Marcus’s head “Shall lay the picnic basket on the blanket.”

“Finally!” Marcus let out a succession of huffs as he did as he was told. A distant part of Agnes found it funny: her seven-year old brother had voiced his desire to act the part of a man and carry the heavier stuff, but he’d tired upon losing sight of Woolaham Residence.

Now that he was freed of the basket, he grasped Hannah’s gloved hand in between his and tugged her onto the ground. Hannah laughed, “What got you so eager?”

“While in the carriage, while you and Agnes were busy talking, I spied inside the basket and found strawberry shortcake. Hannah, may I eat it?”

Hannah looked at Agnes. She clearly was inviting her sister to be the one who decided whether Marcus should be allowed the treat, but Agnes withdrew her gaze. She lifted up her skirts, carefully sat down on the blanket, and said nothing.

“You may,” Hannah eventually said “But do remember that one must chew, not inhale as you did last time.”

Marcus nodded happily, then sank his knees into the ground, ready to have his favourite food. Meanwhile, Hannah walked around the blanket until finding the perfect place to sit beside Agnes, who dutifully moved her mass of skirts aside to make way for Hannah’s.

“Why so sullen?” Hannah asked her.

Agnes’s eyes widened out of their own volition. “I’m not sullen,” she argued; her quiet, sad voice disproving her words “I’m rather happy.”

“Lies,” Hannah moved Agnes’s left hand to her lap “Was the ring not what you expected?”

“What? No.”

Agnes looked down at her ring finger, around which a filigreed, gold band was fitted. A sapphire —blue like your eyes, mein Herz— was attached to the front, flanked by two lines of tiny pearls. The ring was gorgeous; not what Agnes had expected in the most positive way imaginable, not in the negative, not-to-your-liking manner Hannah had implied.

And still.

“This morning has been a lot,” Agnes settled for saying.

“Oh, but this morning has been wonderful,” Hannah’s brows twitched into a frown she made haste to correct “Naturally, it would’ve been splendid if Drucilla and Gaylord could’ve borne witness to it, nevertheless you’re set to marry! Herr Werther’s proposal was beautiful. He must love you so.”

Agnes smiled slightly, fighting the urge to cry.

In her core, she knew she was but a delicate object for Herr Werther to play with; a young bride to instruct and shape into a housewife and mother, a pretty doll to enjoy until her beauty withered away. He didn’t love her.

In her core, Agnes knew he was but a means to escape London, the only path other than death that opened up to her. She didn’t love him.

#oc-tober 2022 #oc-tober #oc tober 2022 #oc tober #short af ik but I'm so busy I'm going to cry lol

[deardiaryxo1]

Dear Diary,

I've decided to start writing a diary here, a place where I can pour out my emotions and thoughts without fear of anyone ever stumbling upon it. 🤫

High school can be such a whirlwind of emotions, and I desperately need an outlet to put my feelings on something 🫠.

You see, there's this guy that I'm head over heels in love with, but he doesn't even know I exist lol

Every day, I see him walking through the halls, he is year older. He's …..HOOOOOOT. 😱😭 But there's one problem - he already has a girlfriend.🙂

It's hard for me to understand why he's with her. She seems more interested in the idea of dating someone as attractive as him, rather than truly being in love with him. She's the popular girl, the one everyone adores. With her blond hair and blue eyes, people say she's the most beautiful girl in school. But honestly, I don't see it. To me, she just looks like an average popular girl from any other school.

It's frustrating to watch them together, knowing that I could offer him so much more. I see the way he gazes at her, hoping to find a connection that seems to be missing. I yearn for him to see me 😭

But for now, I'll keep my feelings hidden, locked away inside the pages of this diary. I'll continue to watch him from afar, silently cheering him on in my heart. Maybe, just maybe, someday he'll notice me and see beyond the facade of popularity.🫠

Anyways, let’s get to the small twist of this all lol {DRUM ROLL} 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

You see, for the past two weeks, I have been talking to him on Facebook, but there's a twist to the story - he doesn't know it's me. 😭😂

Let me explain.

I created a fake Facebook account, using a different name and all info, and approached him with a weird shit story lol I told him that I had seen him around and blah blah blah and surprisingly, he went along with it.

The chats have been going on for two weeks now, and we've developed quite a bond. 🫠 We talk about our days (as if I don’t know his day 🥲). It's quite amusing to listen to him sharing his experiences, knowing I already have insight into his life.

I must admit, it's become a bit of a best friend conversation, despite the fact that most of what I've told him is a lie.

However, amidst all these lies, there is one truth that I've stuck to - my name. I may have created a fake persona, but my name remains unchanged. Perhaps it's because deep down, I believe that honesty should be at the core of any relationship, even if it's built on deception.

I find it intriguing how easily we've formed a connection, despite the dishonesty that lurks behind every message. We seem to have a lot in common, and it's effortless to keep our conversations flowing. Yet, there's a part of me that wonders how long I can maintain this charade without it coming crashing down. 😫

I can't help but wonder how he would react if he discovered the truth. Would he be angry, hurt, or understanding? Would he appreciate our connection enough to overlook the lies I've told? It's a risk that I knowingly took, but now it keeps me up at night, wondering about the potential consequences. 😭

As the days pass, the situation with him becomes increasingly complicated. It seems that he is eager to take our online connection to the next level, suggesting meeting up or casually saying hello in person. This puts me in a precarious position, as I am torn between maintaining the facade and coming clean about my true identity.

Whenever he brings up the subject of meeting, I find myself crafting feeble excuses to avoid the situation. 😩 So far, my excuses have been successful in diverting his attention away from the idea. But deep down, I know that this cannot go on forever. Sooner or later, I will have to confront the truth and make a decision about how to proceed.

Maybe I am selfish but let me say one thing - whatever is going on is better than nothing 🥹

Yours sincerely,

A Hopeful Hearty

#dear diary #diary #personal diary #my diary #tumblr diary #thoughts #daily journal #mindfulness #self reflection

[benthebeloved]

After the day of hearing stories about you, and the several weeks he's been texting you, hanging out with you, etc., Ben comes upon the realization that....

He loves you. He has deep, unavoidable feelings for you that he can't ignore no matter how hard he tries.

And boy, does he try. So much, in fact, that it starts to take away from his success with daily activities. Even in simple conversations, he seems distracted, or like he doesn't care. Truly, he does- he loves conversing with people.

But how could he possibly focus when all he thinks about is you and his child, all the way on Alderaan?

It gets to a point where one day, Feemor sits him down halfway through a conversation, studying him intently.

"What is the matter with you?" Feemor asks him quietly.

Ben shakes his head a little. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"Don't play that with me." Fee warns. "You and I have always been two of the most focused gentlemen I know. And right now, you're about twenty planets away. Talk to me."

"No." Ben studies his older brother. "I can't."

"You can't?" Fee raises a brow, "or you won't?"

"I-"

"What is it Ben?" Fee pushes, his voice getting angrier by the second.

"I'm in love," Ben blurts. Panic immediately sets in and he looks away as tears burn his eyes.

"You're- what?"

"I'm in love," he dares to say it again.

Feemor studies the distressed man for a few moments before finally saying, "Tell me everything."

Ben starts to cry, "I- I had a one night stand and-"

"When did you-"

"Just let me talk," Ben snaps, "I won't be able to do this if you don't. I- I was on Alderaan to help Bail and I had a one night stand with a doctor and she ended up- she's pregnant. I have a child." He quickly continues as Feemor's eyes widen, not giving Fee a chance to respond, "I have a baby on the way and this woman - her name is Lili - she's so beautiful and kind and loving and I can't help my affection for her. I can't. She's so wonderful. I think about her all the time and I know I shouldn't but dammit I do. And I dunno what I should do about it. I-"

"Ben-"

"No Fee-"

"No." Fee snaps, reaching to hold Ben's face. "Listen to me. I know... I know I haven't been easy on you. At all. Growing up I was very strict with you and I - I implemented rules that not even Father told us about. He was always a bit more loose with which rules to follow- and the fact that he loved Mother proves that. Tahl was a huge part of my life. And I'm... I'm sorry that I-" he pauses and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, "I... am also experiencing feelings. For someone."

Ben's eyes widen. "What?" he breathes, shaking his head, "What- Fee what're you talking about?"

"Ro," Fee whispers. "I'm- I'm growing very fond of Rocket. So I... am in no position whatsoever to tell you what to do with your emotions and choices."

Ben stares at Fee, shocked into silence. What? You mean the golden boy of the family, the do-no-evil Jedi of the lineage, is actually in love??

"Fee..."

"I know." Feemor nods a little. "I know. It's been a lot to deal with and I've hurt Ro in the process. Just- that's why I want you to know that I'm not... going to punish you for this or- or tell the Council. I won't even tell grandfather. But I do want you to do something for me."

Ben blinks. "Alright- anything."

"I want you to go after her," Fee encourages him, continuing as Ben starts to scoff in surprise, "I want you to text her or call her and- take her on a date or something. Let her know how you feel. Let yourself know how you feel and actually let yourself feel it. Don't miss out on something wonderful just because you're afraid of what I might say. The Force knows this is one of the smallest rules we could worry about. I'm sure the whole 'don't use the Dark Side' rule is far more important."

He pulls Ben into a tight, long hug, the two of them falling into a long conversation about the people they love.

And then, later that night, when Ben is finally alone in his room and has processed the depth of that bonding moment with his older brother, he texts you.

I'm packing a bag and I'm leaving in the morning to come see you. I'd like to take you on a date. Any restaurant you'd like- I want to take you there. Please.

There’s about a million things I could say in response to this message, but as I begin to type, almost nothing comes out,

What about the Order?