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vvanessaives · 2 years

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WIP DAY. (or whatever day it is)

i was tagged by @nuclearstorms and @arklay, thank you beloveds MWAH. i’ll share a little crumb of yea, still on the same work of last sunday, because i literally can’t finish this thing, i keep adding words and it’s hell at this point. anyways have fenix being dumb, my fave concept in the world

i’m tagging @morvaris, @swordcoasts @camelliagwerm @wrymbloods @jillvalcntines @reaperkiller @steelport and anyone else that wants to share a wip for anything at all really, art, writing, whatever <33

Fenix hesitated, still leaning over the counter. Mars knew something else was up. “Spit it out.” He pronounced the words like a prolonged sigh, already fed up with the interruption.

“Listen, can you maybe, ya’ know…take your trophy from the trunk and leave me the car?” Automatically he started tapping his fingers rhythmically on the counter: there was no way in hell Mars would agree straight away to the request but trying doesn’t hurt. Most of the times. “Just for a few hours? I’ll take it back here, cross on my heart.” He quickly added and outlined the symbol with his index and middle finger in the same exact spot he mentioned.

“No.” Mars’s reply was as hard and cold as his usual demeanour and struck quickly like a lightning, he didn’t even ponder the matter for a single moment. Luckily – but for himself only – Fenix was a stubborn man.

“C’mon, it’s just like…what?” he tried to reason, “two or three hours? Just enough time for breakfast and so on.” The tapping was closer to a hammering sound now and was gradually chiming louder and louder into the fixer’s skull like a nail striking inside. How he wished to cut a few more fingers off his hand. Trying to ignore both the sound and the man making it, Mars didn’t budge and kept his eyes fixed on his turning magazine’s pages activity, vital if you ask him.

“Okay listen. See the girl outside?” Fenix shifted his body to the side, weight resting on his elbow now, yet the man kept ignoring his every word, he was only glad his ears where spared from the noise. “Give a look man, for fuck’s sake they beat the shit out of me for that contract of yours.” The exaggerated exasperation in his now too noisy tone made the fixer puff out a tired breath as he raised his gaze; suddenly the idea of just agreeing to the request and let the cowboy go fuck himself was turning to be quite an interesting choice. He leaned to the side once again, this time only slightly since Fenix’s frame wasn’t obstructing the view any longer, and shot a glance at Vesper: she was still leaning against the car, phone in hand as she mindlessly tried to kill time by scrolling down on news and flashing commercials.

As if she could feel the pair of eyes staring into her direction, her gaze shot up to the shop, efficiently spotting the two men spying on her. “Yeah right, that one.” Fenix comically lifted his hand and waved, enough to make Vesper focus on the screen again with a groan. “Listen,” he began as he leaned over the counter again “I got a date with the girl and don’t let me get started on how fucking hard it was to make her agree to have one, I swear.” That wasn’t a lie, for once. Not only it took twelve failed tries – yes, he kept counting – for Vesper to finally accept the invitation but she still didn’t dump him and thirty minutes already passed. They literally just stopped to drop a corpse on their date, that had to be a deal breaker. “What kind of cheap fuck takes someone on a date with no car? This is my chance, I fail now I get no second tries. Help a man out.” He moved his wrist in short, fast circles now, his fingers following the circular motion in a gesture that Mars didn’t quite understand the meaning of.

He looked straight at Fenix now: his sardonic smile and usual confidence couldn’t hide the almost pathetic pleading. That was one of the most entertaining shows he ever offered to him. “The real favour here would be freeing her from you, actually.” Fair point, Fenix noted, that forked venomous tongue of his never disappoints.

“Yeah well, I asked you to make me a favour. You’ve been young too…” he stopped to scan the old man’s wrinkled face with a frown and then resumed his earnest speech “…one hundred years ago I guess. Y’know how it is.”

Ignoring the jab at his age, the fixer lowered his gaze on his magazine once again and for the last time; the silence following almost felt like a refusal and Fenix was ready to go back and talk his ears off. Thankfully it wasn’t needed. “Fine.” Mars finally yielded, probably only to make the annoying voice of such an insufferable man stop torturing him. “I’ll get the body. You take the car back when you’re done.”

Fenix smirked widely. “Thank you, bello mio.” He teased while slapping the palm of his hand on the counter a few times, Mars already opted for blissful indifference and really hoped – nearly prayed – that now he could finally find some peace again.

You sly bastard, Fenix thought, mentally patting his own back for a job well done. Turning to the exit, he left the fixer’s uncommon den and went straight back to the car, an unusual jauntiness in his steps. Back to his cool front, now. Can’t let the girl know he’s too overjoyed, that would ruin his image.

#tag games #literally kept forgetting about this it's incredible i was like i will do the wip thing now [doesn't do it. keeps forgetting]#so uh yea nix beloved idiot i love him also this is early times of the dumb duo and i'm slowly (22k words) writing their first little date #(kill a man. drop the body. get paid. hey wanna have breakfast?) love that for them i guess. also literally the way it is so hard to write #hand gestures bc in my mind are clear as the sun but writing them down..? SHAKING. i make no sense all the time it's beautiful #OH + bello mio just literally means my beauty but with a funny intent like saying it to a friend (nix is mocking him <3) and uhhhh mars is a #fucked up little old man whos a fixer and his office is inside a laundromat and he LITERALLY has a forked tongue and a snake tattoo on the #face too and just i went a bit off with this man. i just find him funny and the way it feels like nix is asking for the car to his dad just #hehe laughing rn in my mind okay fine i'll shut up

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gingerbreadmonsters · 2 years

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hell yeah 2k babeyyy

#am v v tired so might go to bed early but i think we might be on for a proper fic by tomorrow evening hehe #i am having a bit of an issue w the ending though #like.... i HAVE one but i'm not sure it really fits the vibe #i think it's GOOD but it sort of comes out of nowhere #so maybe i'll post that separately??? maybe it'll appear as my wip wednesday for this week #it's only about 200 words so it's not very long #idk we'll see how i feel about it when i'm properly done

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moodymelanist · 10 days

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happy WIP Tuesday* (since I am a silly goof who accidentally posted a day early lol).

anyway, here’s a little something I’m working on for @nestaarcheronweek hehe

“I do not consent to a search of my home,” Nesta snapped. She closed the door behind her and turned to follow the officer, very intent on getting his name and badge number so she could tear Metro PD a new one. “What the f— someone record this!”

Most of her assembled friends and family looked confused, but Emerie and Feyre already had their phones in hand and were clearly recording. If Nesta had been paying more attention, she would’ve realized someone had brought out one of the dining chairs and put it in the middle of the room, but she was much more concerned with the Fourth Amendment violation playing out in her living room.

“I will ask you one last time,” Nesta hissed at the officer. He looked far too smug for her liking, and she couldn’t wait to wipe that stupid look off his face when she found out who his commanding officer was. “What the hell is the problem here?”

“There’s a problem here alright,” the officer — whose nameplate just said Cassian, which Nesta was realizing was not standard issue — told her with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. “You have the right to remain horny!”

Oh, Nesta thought, everything abruptly clicking into place. Oh no.

#acotar #acosf #Nessian #nesta archeron #Cassian #pro Nessian #pro nesta archeron #pro cassian #moodymelanistwrites #wip wednesday #story snippets

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subskz · 4 months

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hi ms. rin!! long time no see ☺️

i was always reading your works & all your amazing posts but i realize today it was a long time since i sent an ask >< i hope you’re doing great!

i wanted to ask if you’re still writing the childhood friends to lovers with lee know? ever since butterfly bandage i was craving to read another longfic from you cause you write so beautifully :< & with minho being my bias i think i’ll die if you make a story for him..! not to pressure you of course 💕

-🧸

hello hello omg it really has been a while!! it’s so nice to see you again my dear i hope you’ve been doing well and taking care since we last spoke ♡

you’re too kind thank u so much for your lovely words!! it’s so sweet that u even remember i was writing that lino fic i’m really glad you’re looking forward to it 😭 it’s still very much a wip so i’m not exactly sure when it’ll be out, but i work on it all the time! here’s a few lil sneak peeks just for u hehe

also please note that a lot of this is subject to change since i’m still working on it 😽 these snippets are still a bit barebones

ᓚᘏᗢ — snippet 1

You stared at the crumpled nest; abandoned, with what was left of it quickly being carried away by the wind. Straw by straw. You felt like crying.

Don’t be so sensitive. You told yourself. It's just a stupid bird.

“Wow,” a familiar voice, soft and brusque and not sounding very wowed at all, came from behind you. “That’s amazing, isn’t it?”

You lifted your head, whipping around to find its source. Not that you really needed to, anyway. You knew that voice better than your own, by now.

“Huh?”

“They were just babies, but they already flew away.” Minho crouched down next to you to examine the remains of the fallen nest. His small fingers brushed over it, so delicately that the grass barely shifted under his touch. “Like they know exactly where they’re supposed to go.”

You rested your hands on your knees, unconvinced, refusing to look at him. Your eyes were stinging. You didn’t want him to think you were dramatic. You didn’t want him to make fun of you. He’d put just as much care into looking after them, if not more. He’d stayed with them even longer than you had. How could he be so accepting of it?

“Birds are so cool,” he continued. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair, like it was summoned by his airy lilt. “They can go wherever they want.”

“Why do they have to go?” you muttered.

“Cause the world’s so big, dummy,” he said it like common knowledge, like he’d consulted the birds himself. “And they’re so small. So they gotta start seeing it early before they die.”

You puffed out a half-hearted laugh.

“You’re like a bird,” you decided.

“Mm?”

“You do what you wanna and go where you wanna.”

“I can’t be a bird,” Minho sniffed. “They fly too high. I'm more like a cat, ‘cause no matter where they go, they always know how to find their way home.”

“Like Soonie,” you said.

“Like Soonie,” he agreed. “Remember when he was gone for three days? But then he showed up again like nothing happened?”

“You cried a lot,” you giggled.

Minho huffed, looking away. “I knew he’d come back.”

It had been one of the only times you’d ever seen him cry in your four years of friendship. He might’ve completely denied crying altogether if the subject were anything other than his beloved cat. His little brother.

“So you’ll always come back, too? Like Soonie?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I'm gonna be here ‘til I'm at least 100, or else someone will take our spot under the maple tree.”

ᓚᘏᗢ — snippet 2

Minho’s hand reached for yours. It was shaking.

“If you're scared, I can stay with you,” he offered. You could tell he was trying to sound casual, but there was an undeniable tremor there. Not breezy, not carefree; thick and heavy with apprehension. It weighed down your conscience. “It’ll be embarrassing if you’re the only one in class left behind, right?”

You remembered how he’d reacted when you traveled up to the mountains last summer, how he’d turned away from the window when the car drove along the edge of the road, with nothing but a flimsy, rusting metal barrier standing between you and several thousand foot fall. You remembered how much trouble he’d had walking straight when you first arrived at the campsite, strangely quiet, muttering to himself about how high up it was. It was too high, the air was too thin, the world was too far away.

Those were the issues, of course. The issue certainly wasn’t that he was terrified out of his mind. A cat stuck in a tree, longing to accept help without sacrificing his pride. Unsure whether to hiss at whoever came near, or leap into their arms. He’d grabbed your hand the exact same way, back then.

“Okay,” you replied.

He perked up, features flashing with a hopefulness that was almost enough to break your facade.

“Hm?”

It would’ve been so easy in that moment, to tease him. To call him out, gain the upper hand on him for once in six years. But looking at those eyes—round and bright and gleaming under his glasses with an innocence that effectively wiped away every annoying thing he’d ever done from your memory, you just couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Let’s skip the rollercoaster,” you said plainly. “I’m scared.”

You weren’t, strangely enough. You wondered if Minho knew that. Of the two of you, he was undoubtedly the risk taker. His mind was too capricious to not explore every possibility there was, to not absorb everything the world had to offer until he found himself in it. It was almost exhilarating for you, to be the adventurous one, for a change. To be the one who didn’t hold yourself back.

You wanted to be bold. You wanted to be fearless. You wanted to impress him.

But more than any of that, you wanted to stay with him. You didn’t want him to sit alone on the amusement park bench, watching his classmates have fun without him as he fumbled with the wrapping of a snack he couldn’t eat, because the anxiety had made his stomach hurt.

“Seriously,” his grin was weak, but as he laced your fingers together properly, you could feel the quiver in his hand begin to calm. “What would you do without me?”

You simply grunted, allowing him to tug you along to the bench. You didn’t want to think about it. It was playful, not really seeking a response, but that didn’t stop his question from lingering in the back of your mind. Like a part of you knew that, sooner or later, you’d have no choice but to find the answer.

#ask #🧸 anon #💌

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highvern · 5 months

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omg hey saw that your reqs are open hehe if ure free or if ure thinking abt taking a break from your wips would u consider writing something abt jeonghan x monster!reader from the recent one you wrote :0 of course you don't have to write a whole fic abt it but i'd like to know how they ended up together! i'm so curious ... and also i think i'm just a little insane abt that fic . well. hehe.

I too am a little insane over that fic tbh it was so fun to write!

So basically when monster!reader left the lake she essentially becomes human. Naiads/sirens aren't really known for their complex emotions in mythology lol so most of what she's experienced sans loneliness has been heavily muted because she was immortal and had been in that lake for who knows how long. did y'all watch aquamarine and how she's kinda childish about emotions? think that

But she knows she's drawn to Jeonghan, she has the insatiable urge to be around him all the time, and that's the reason she left her lake because he couldn't stay there forever but she could join him in his world.

More under the cut! this ended up so much longer than I thought but slay.

Jeonghan would show her everything, and she is wide eyed the entire time because all of this existed and she didn't know about it? It makes her feel a little ashamed for believing humans were nothing more than playthings for so long. But I digress.

He takes her to the bookshop he likes to frequent, discovers she can't read obviously (not that she cares), and promises to teach her if she wants. It's fall so the fruit orchards on the outskirts of the village are full of autumn fruit that he picks for her, watching her intently as she tries them with enthusiasm. Jeonghan even takes her through the woods, walking the secluded trails he knows like the back of his hand as she watches the animals scurry in the underbrush with wonder.

And all of these positive feelings she associates with him. Even on days where she can hear the lake screaming for her to comeback, she remembers all the things she missed that Jeonghan has shared with her. And so she stays.

Winter is horrible in her opinion. Cold and dry, she feels like her skin is going to peel off from the heat of the fire she remains in front of all day, attempting to read the books Jeonghan's collected over the years. In the lake, she'd lay down at the bottom, slumbering as the ice crystalized the surface of her home this time of year. And then, when warmer days came, she'd rise to play again. But her now human body won't let her do that anymore. So she has to suffer the biting air.

It's refreshing.

One night, wind is howling and snow is piling against the glass of the windows and she just can't keep herself warm enough under the layers of wool to find rest. So she does what she always does when she runs into a problem in this strange new world. She goes to Jeonghan.

He's shocked to see her in nothing but her nightgown at the foot of his bed, half of her face illuminated in candle light. Jeonghan's seen her in far more compromising states of dress but she always looks so beautiful it makes it hard to breath. And when she complains of the cold, he offers to let her share his bed. Respectfully.

She isn't sure how that'll help but she agrees since Jeonghan hasn't led her astray yet, diving under his blankets to be shocked by the pleasant toastiness underneath. She sighs as her shivering body slowly heats up, eyes slipping shut drowsily as Jeonghan lays a few inches away, watching her.

They wake up the next morning, tangled in one another's arms. Her cheek against his chest, legs wrapped around his to soak in the early morning. After that, she comes to his bed every night under the guise of staying warm.

And then spring comes around and she practically burst from her excitement. She'll get to see the flowers and all the new life emerge as the world wakes up. The town has acclimated to her presence now, unaware of who or what she was before this life, but hypnotized by her sweet smiles and childish laughter all the same. Each morning she practically runs to the town square to look for the garland Jeonghan mentioned, pouting when it's nowhere to be seen as she goes about her errands.

"It's still too cold." Jeonghan explains, snickering at her scowl when she accuses him of lying.

So she waits. And she waits. And she never knew time could feel like this, slow in a painful way. Time had been her friend before but now she resents him.

Then one morning, Jeonghan is acting odd. Not the odd paleness he has when he falls ill or the strange quietness when he argues with his father. But a new sort of oddness she has yet to witness. He keeps glancing at a cabinet in the kitchen over her head as they eat breakfast. When she turns to look herself, his face stretches and his eyes round; like the fish in her lake.

He isn't working in the mill today so they're meant to go explore now that the ground is soft and the sun is closer. Even the wind has turned his sharp claws into gentle hands this morning.

Just as they're about to step outside to leave, Jeonghan pulls her back by her wrist.

"I got you a gift" He whispers.

Her head tips to the side, "A gift?"

Instead of answering, he crosses back to the cabinet. There's a strange rope coiled on one of the shelves, pink and red and white. And when he aproaches her with it, spreading the length from arm to arm to display it properly, she realizes he wasn't lying about the flowers.

"It's beautiful!" She exhales, enamored by the tight twine of blossoming buds. Even in her new form, she loves beautiful things.

She gentle caresses the velvety petals, completely hypnotized.

"I made it for you." He glows in that way that he does so often under her gaze. The way most people do under her approving stare but she thinks his red cheeks are the prettiest.

Together, they hang the garland over the front door. It's meant to welcome a prosperous spring and good luck for the year. Jeonghan doesn't mention it's also a tradition for newly betrothed couples to signify their devotion to one another.

Passing through the town, she examines each new decoration eagerly, Jeonghan smiling behind her as he watches.

"Look at this one!" she squeals, a braid of three lines, crisscrossing yellow, white, and lilac.

She's ecstatic the world isn't gray anymore, bursts of color dripping from every surface possible. Even the sky has returned to a cheery blue, dimpled with gossamer clouds sporadically.

And in her excitement, she does what she's seen the humans do when they celebrate. When taverns are rowdy with drunk patrons, or when a couple gets married in the small chapel at the center of town. When the women welcome their husbands back from long journeys.

She throws her arms around Jeonghan's neck and kisses him.

After he swallows the initial shock, he kisses her back.

#yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #svt jeonghan #svt fanfic #svt x reader #jeonghan #jeonghan smut #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan angst #🫡 highvern

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14carrotghoul · 2 days

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WIP Wednesday

Hello and thank you to @cha-melodius @suseagull04 @adreamareads @heysweetheart-writes @orchidscript and @firenati0n for the tags!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ here's another excerpt from the cheating fic sequel. I thought I hadn't written much but there's already 6k in that motherfucker and I haven't even gotten to the wooing?? Wack. Anyway, having SOOO much fun playing with writing styles as seen below hehe

EXCERPT: The Washington Post: “Henry Fox on creating during crisis” by June Claremont-Diaz

“I didn't realize how hungry readers were for my personal life,” Henry Fox says as he pours himself his perfect cup of tea – Earl Grey in a mug stamped with the face of the beagle sniffing underfoot. “I'm fairly private, but it's not like I haven't written about my life in the past.”

The bestselling author has only recently revealed that his breakout novel, Avoiding Plans and Sucking Cock, is based on his late teens to early twenties – reinvigorating interest in the tearjerker and casting light on Fox's personal experience with grief, self-destruction, and dysfunctional family dynamics.

His newest novel, the recently announced Out of Spite, is based on a bright yet complicated chapter of his life.

“It will be my happiest book by far, but complex in a way my readers have come to expect from me.” In less than a decade, Fox has tackled difficult topics such as addiction, loss, rejection – all with a subtle vulnerability and forgiveness of his characters that keep readers coming back. This time around, mutual healing from infidelity is at the forefront.

As he sips on tea and nibbles on imported biscuits, he exudes a calm aura that would never betray his tumultuous personal life. His apartment is cozy, his dog is adorable, and his demeanor is warm. This, he says, is thanks to his blossoming romance with his love interest.

I feel like I'm always on the later side of these so no pressure tagging @read-and-write- @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @xthelastknownsurvivorx @happiness-of-the-pursuit and anyone else that wants to share!!!

#rwrb fic #my wips

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xxstraymoonchildxx · 3 days

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This Couple is Unusual

Prev./Next (WIP)

Chapter 5 This couple, coffin talk

cw: flashback lesson 16 OM

The first time you died was during your first school year in the Devildom.

You have felt bad for him, being stuck in this stuffy attic all by himself. He had reached out to you early on, a whisper in the night, urging you up the stairs. That Lucifer tried to stop you only fueled your curiosity.

The big bad brother who locked the youngest up after an argument. Of course, you made pacts with the other five brothers to break the magical lock to the attic.

He was so grateful, pulling you into a warm embrace.

He hugged you tightly.

“You humans really are foolish, idiotic, weak creatures, aren’t you?”

Tighter.

You couldn’t move.

“Hehe. Does it hurt? Finding it hard to breathe? I’m sure it must be very unpleasant.”

Tighter.

“You’re so stupid that I can’t help but laugh. Don’t blame me for tricking you, blame yourself for falling for it.”

Tighter.

“I hate humans. I hate them more than anything in the three worlds-”

Your ribcage cracked, puncturing your insides.

“And I hate you!”

Why this particular scene flashed before your eyes, you didn’t know for you had already forgiven him. The time you sacrificed yourself for Lucifer or several other instances you had put yourself in immediate danger would have left a better taste in your mouth.

Now, a scythe's polished, pointy tip was millimeters away from your face. It would have pierced through your left orbit if you didn’t bend backward the time and way you did thanks to Luke’s blessing no doubt. The sharp edge of the death dealer ominously glistened in the candlelight.

“Didn’t you know that curiosity killed the cat, my dear?” a voice croaked to your right, amusement resonating within. From your peripheral vision, you could see his dark boots that had no business having this many belts (nor him having legs this long).

“But satisfaction brought it back,” you breathed out, voice shaky. A bead of sweat of fear trickled down your temple as the rapid beating of your heart continued.

Undertaker chuckled and pulled the scythe away from you, lovingly grazing the smooth side of the cutting blade. You stared at the tool that was not designed to cut grass or harvest grains. It had the shape of an elongated bone structure; the edge of the blade ended in a skull that was decorated with thorns around the forehead and the shaft went directly into the skeletal thorax with all its components.

He held out his free hand for you to take, pulling you upward. His skin felt weird to the touch, neither warm nor cold. Just like Thirteen’s. Undertaker gently turned your hand, thumb striking over the seal on the back before letting go, making you wonder if he recognized the sigil that proved your affiliation with the Sorcerer’s Society or the ring of light around on your finger. He eventually took a step backward, giving you a moment to ogle him.

Actually, without being fully veiled by his black overcoat, revealing a matching dark robe, and without his crooked top hat Undertaker even kind of looked … attractive there and then. His choice of clothing and jewelry was interesting for his time, if not ahead of it.

Moreover, with the murder weapon at hand, he didn’t look like a demented oddball anymore but the personified harbinger of death. A grim reaper, a Shinigami.

Oh.

Now you knew he recognized you as a sorcerer and some other things about him started to make sense.

Undertaker stored his scythe away, locking the closet with a satisfying click. His lips were curled upwards when he turned back around. Since his bangs covered the upper half of his face, you couldn’t read his true emotions.

/I wonder if he has phosphorescent eyes, too./

“Heh, be more careful when snooping around, unless you’re dying to experience my coffins firsthand,” Undertaker said, snickering at his own little pun at the end.

“Err, it’s definitely not on my bucket list for 1888. Dying ain’t fun,” you quickly denied, mumbling the last part. You awkwardly rubbed your sweaty neck when you felt him staring from behind his long bangs.

Wait, he couldn’t know what a bucket list is, couldn’t he?

“A bucket list is a to-do list before ‘kicking the bucket’,” you quickly explained.

The mortician hummed “Interesting choice of words. Although, even if it’s the basis of my work, I understand death is undesirable - but - maybe such topics should be discussed over a cuppa and biscuits, don’t you think? You’re still shaken.”

This is how you ended up sitting on one of his coffins across from him, a measuring beaker with black tea in hand.

Undertaker, who sat cross-legged on another death box, held out a black urn toward you, silently instructing you to take whatever was inside. Having lived in the Devildom for so long nothing food-related should and could surprise you anymore.

Still, you must have looked baffled when you fished a biscuit in the form of a dog bone from the alienated cookie jar because the silver-haired man let out a little cackle. “Go ahead, they’re delicious, I promise~”

He was right, they were! The sweet taste was welcomed after your near-death experience.

“Gosh, you need to give me the recipe for these. I’ve got some baking-loving friends back home.”

“Hmm, I might, if you pay me with a good laugh, of course,” he answered cheekily, bouncing his crossed-over leg.

“Wait, for real? … Let me think about one…”

Undertaker waited patiently, munching on his treat.

“Okay, you see, my favorite childhood memory is building sandcastles with my dear grandfather – well, that was until my mother took his ashes away.”

…

Turned out that simultaneously eating and laughing was not a good idea.

The silver-haired choked on the cookie as the laugh got stuck in his throat, bending over, battering his chest with suppressed giggles (why) while you shot up in a panic, refilling his cup. “Oh my god, are you alright?”

He made a gesture of refusal with his hand, knocking the beverage back.

“That was a killer, young Miss,” he said once you two calmed down, acting like nothing happened.

“I have yet to ask what I owe the pleasure. I assume you're still busy with the murder case, hm?”

You lowered the recipe Undertaker gave you beforehand, regarding him with a mirthful grin. “Nope. I was gift hunting for the family and ended up in front of your store by chance. Maybe it was fate? For the article, well, I don't think the Queen's cute little watchdog would let us publish anything remotely true once he finds out who Jack the Ripper is.”

Undertaker’s lips curled into a grin as well “Oh, you figured it out?”

“Yep. Yesterday's event confirmed our suspicion. Not that you sound surprised at all, tho.”

“I had a feeling you’ll succeed. I’m sure the young Earl won’t be far behind for he is the good lapdog of Her Majesty.”

You made a face “Never have I imagined a child being responsible for resolving the disruption of the general society. Seriously, putting himself in danger like that.”

“And that collar will choke him someday,” Undertaker said, his voice dropping an octave. “If not for his self-imposed duty, his butler will certainly be his undoing.”

“Well, if the Earl can’t find a way to circumvent his contract, that is, even for a certain amount of time. Employers tend to find a way to go around their agreements, so it’s technically not impossible.”

The mortician tapped his lips with his index. A grimoire - he hadn’t considered this possibility for they are seldom found. It would require Sebastian Michaelis’ true name and free access to Hell. However, different matters solicited his attention; exempli gratia Karnstein, so he would keep your words in mind. An interesting human you were; just maybe …

A low vibrating sound broke his thoughts.

“Shit, I hate to cut our talk short but…” you said, eyes fixating on the screen of the D.D.D. you halfway pulled out of your dress pocket “...look at the time. Sata- err, my husband is expecting me soon and I still have to make the way back.”

You pushed the phone back and walked up to him.

“Thank you for the tea and cookies. I don’t know how long we’ll stay in London but I hope we meet again before we leave.”

You gave Undertaker your brightest smile, surprising the Shinigami but he gently held your outstretched hand. Hands he had taken souls with.

“Likewise, young lady. Be careful on your way back. You never know what lurks around the corner.”

“Noted!”

You took your bag from where you nearly met your untimely end and walked to the door. Grabbing the knob, you turned your head backward.

Feeling bold, you let a slight gust of wind whip around his face, revealing his odd green eyes that widened slightly at your display of magic. Proud of yourself, you winked and waved goodbye, your smile branding itself into his mind.

Laugher filled his empty store.

“What an interesting sorcerer~”

Hello folks! Writing this chapter was really hard for some reason and I struggled with the decision of putting a scene in or not. As you can see, this chapter is rather short, meaning I cut a scene out. It involved the harassment of MC. (In Victorian London some men were pathetic and walked up to unaccompanied women, even from higher ranks, assuming they were streetwalkers. In this case, the reader would have been approached by Grell with the idea in mind to make the case more personal. I'm not sure I handled this well enough in my draft, so here we are)

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gowonders · 6 months

Text

lucid ♥ j.js

minors dni with this post!

warnings: not proofread, english isn’t my first language, makeup artist dom!jinsoul, fem idol!reader, sorta manipulation into consent, jinsoul is implied to be older than reader, sweet names (sweetie, doll, baby), jinsoul has a maam kink, oral (jinsoul rec. + reader rec.), reader is kinda inexperienced but she’s a natural luckily!, reader has mommy kink hehe, degradation, thigh riding, cursing, climax denial, reader gets fucked with a makeup brush ☺️, lmk if i missed any!

notes: FINALLYYY A FULL FIC AFTER FOREVERRR .. this is actually something i don’t really do but i feel like all of my stuff is kinda vanilla.. sooo i tried something a little different at the end TT 🫡 my loona fics never really do well, but if you actually read for loona i hope you like this!

💄₊˚⊹♡

jinsoul who’s been your makeup artist since your debut, happily smiling as she brushed eye shimmer on your eyelids, sweetly complimenting your full cheeks as she applied blush on them. but over the moments you would spend together, early mornings at music shows, she would get quieter and quieter as she did your makeup.

see, what you didn’t know is that jinsouls mind would be flooded with such perverted thoughts when she did your makeup >_< when she applied shiny gloss over your pretty lips, she would think how cute you’d look when you’d eat her out. or when you obediently flutter your eyes closed so she can apply mascara, she thinks of how perfect you’d look when you unravel on her thigh. not to mention how docile you were for her.

“yn, sweetie, would you pass me that concealer?” she asks, slender hand rubbing your shoulder. “yes ma’am.” you respond, hand reaching over to grab the concealer. and she gulps at that, cheeks turning pink at the way you call her ‘ma'am’. you were so polite for her, so obedient! “thank you, doll.” she smiles, taking the tube from you and starting to apply it to your face.

she finishes up your makeup, applying glimmering gloss on your plump lips as she nods. “all done, yn! good luck on your performance, doll.” she coos, smoothing out your hair as she motions you to get up. “you made me look so pretty, ma’am!” you smile up at her. “of course, but i just made you look even better.“

💄₊˚⊹♡

you finish your performance, cheering with the other girls in your group and all of the staff claps and cheers along with you all as you enter the green room. “great job, everyone!” your leader cheers, and with that, you all make your way to your dressing rooms, and as you enter yours, you see your makeup artist, sitting on the counter that her makeup supplies sit on. “oh, hi ma’am! did you.. need something?” you ask, setting your things down and taking a sip of the drink you got earlier in the morning before your performance. “not at all dear, just wanted to congratulate you on your performance.” you nod silently, finishing the sip of the drink you took.

“thank you-“ you start, before she cuts you off. “sweetie, come here, you smudged your lip stain, i can fix it really fast before i go!” she motions you over, jumping off the table as she sits you down , taking a wip to the corner or your lips, and you can feel her breath on your lips as she wipes the lip stain away. “you did so well today, doll.” your heart skips a beat at the praise, but you smile shyly as you nod. “thank you, miss!” “of course. also, here you are, i’m done! you can be on your way, sweetie. i’ll see you in a few days for the next music show!”

💄₊˚⊹♡

“you fit this concept so well, doll.” she mentions as she puts blush on your cheeks, her mind filled with thoughts of how cute you would look all fucked out for her. “thanks, miss!” you mumble, not wanting to interrupt her work she always does so well. like always, she finishes the look with a gloss that overlays your lips perfectly, and she motions you to stand up. “yn, i actually finished up quite early, yeah?” she mentions, checking her watch. “oh, did you? you’re pretty fast then!” you smile, her returning it as she pats your shoulder.

“look..” she starts, sighing as she looks down at you. “baby, you’d always help me out, right?” she coos, slender fingers tracing lines into your shoulder. “yes ma’am, do you need something before i perform?” she swallows hard at how you call her ma’am once more, and she just relishes in the way you’re so obedient again. “mm.. you’d do anything for me right? after all.. i am your elder, doll.. and i really want you to do something.” she says, voice slightly turning possessive. “cmon.. baby.. you can’t say no to me, i’m your elder.” she coos, just like that, you’re being pulled on your knees onto the floor, a submissive rag doll all for jinsouls pleasure.

“ma’am, what are you making me do..?” you ask as she stands over you, stroking my hair. “baby.. need you to eat me out, if you do well, i’ll give you a reward after your performance. can you do that for me? huh? do it for me, i know better, doll.” she coos, squatting down a little to rub your shoulder. “y- yes ma’am…” you say, looking down at the floor before your hands creep up to her waistband, pulling her panties and pants down slowly. you look back up at her.. more like her core. “baby, we don’t have all day.. only like.. 25 minutes, hurry up.” she groans, hands gripping at the table as to not ruin your hair. “yes ma’am.. ‘m sorry..” you mumble as you bring your lips to her core.. that’s been soaking wet the second you sat down in her chair to get your makeup done.

your tongue travels to her clit, rubbing at it to stimulate it, you’d never really done this before, but at the way jinsoul groans you name out loudly, you hope it’s good enough for her. “momma…” you groan against her heat. you’d known her long enough that she’s not even suprised, and the way your voice vibrates through her has her writhing and rubbing herself against your face so she could get more. “baby.. please.. more..” and you give in, your tongue rubbing at her clit as your fingers insert her hole, your fingers hesitantly pumping in and out of her hole. “d-doll…” she mutters, thighs squeezing around your head subconsciously. “doing so w-well.. fuck, m’ gonna-!” she yelps, and with one stuttered thrust against your lips, her release fills up your mouth, her thighs relaxing their grip as she pulls away, her breath shaky as she pulls you up. “l-lets.. fix your lipstick really fast, doll.”

💄₊˚⊹♡

you finish your performance as best you can, but you feel like it showed that you had jinsoul on your mind the whole time.. and jinsoul could definitely tell as she watched the recording as she waited for you. and she was totally going to tell you off for the slightest mistake, just as always.

you sigh as you walk back into your dressing room, back pressed against the door , you spot jinsoul sitting on the table, and her glare on you is harsh as you walk in. you know she’s not praising you for how well you did.

“yn, baby.” she beckons you over, staring into your eyes, she grabs your wrist and pulls you closer. “i watched your performance, i saw your little mistakes. you think you’re gonna get a fucking reward after that? huh?” she says sternly. “no ma’am.. i-“ you say before she cuts you off. “you what? had me on your mind too much? i know you know how to perform this choreography, you did it the other day. and the other girls did it just fine.” she starts, her grip on your wrist tightening. “what is it baby? can’t deal with a little favor then going straight to performing? anyone else could’ve done it.” she says, her face getting closer to yours. “please ma’am-“ “no! if you fucking do this again i’ll.. i swear. i’m gonna tell everyone how much of a whore you are for your makeup artist.”

and with that, her lips are starting to work down your jaw, marking down your neck. “miss no-!!! i have a show tomorrow too-“ she pulls of your neck, scoffing. “what, so you can perform messily there too? don’t worry, i can cover it up just fine, doll. you know that.” her hickeys trail down to your collarbone, before she pulls off ,flips your skirt up and drops your panties down to your ankles. “fucking ride me, doll.” she says, holding you by your waist and placing you on her thigh. “don’t know how..” you mumble, whining at the way her thigh makes contact with your mound. “course you don’t. figure it out, then. i’m not helping you until you make me proud.” you whine in annoyance before you weakly start rutting your hips against hers, whining as nothing really reaches what you need.

she laughs cruelly at the way you can’t get yourself off :( “poor baby.. wanna feel good so bad??” she mocks, slender fingers ghosting closely to your clit. “momma.. please-“ you moan, and she can’t help but take pity on you, she wants to help her girl sooo bad. her free hand grips onto your hip, guiding you to actually get yourself off better. and you practically crumble on her thigh right then. “ma’am..!!” you whisper, face hiding in her collarbone. and it doesn’t help how her fingers finally start to play at your sweet spot, and all she does in response is chuckle, loving the way your eyes squeeze shut and your whole body trembles.

“momma.. wanna c-cu-“ she immediately pulls you off her thigh, and takes her fingers away from you. “nuh uh. not yet doll.” she moves behind you, holding you up by your waist so you don’t fall.. your legs are already so weak.. then she pushes your down onto the table, ass up for her to do anything. “doll, hand me the brush i put your blush on with earlier?” she asks, hand reaching out for when you get it. your shaky hand takes the thick brush from the side of her bag, handing it to her. “open wide, sweetie.” she says, easing the brush into your mouth. “noooo~” you mumble around the plastic. “baby, you don’t get a fucking say in the matter.” she says sternly, pulling the brush out of your mouth and bringing it to your core, teasing it at your entrance. “p-please.. it’s gonna hurt..” you mumble against the table, squeezing your thighs shut, but of course it won’t do anything.

“no doll, it won’t.” and with that, she’s pushing the end of the brush, not even giving you time to adjust to its size before she’s thrusting it in and out of you, chuckling at the way your squirm and squeal at the sensation. “a-ah..!!! miss..!!” you yelp as she presses your hips against the table. “stay still. with the way you’re moving so much it’s only gonna hurt worse.” she says, kissing down your shaky thighs as she keeps doing her work on you, just waiting to see you unravel.

“mommy.. can’t take any more-“ you whine, nails attempting to grip at the table, biting your lip to hold yourself together. “baby.. yes you can. just a little more.” she says, leaving pecks and marks up your inner thighs, speeding up her pace as she gasps at the way you practically scream. “miss.. please..!” “please what, baby.” she mocks. “if you make me stop i’ll tell everyone how much of a fucking whore you are.” she threatens once more, making you whine, but you go along, and you practically thrust back into the brush. “momma- wanna cum this time ..!” you beg, broken whines leaving you. “okay baby. you can this time..” and with that, she speeds up her pace even more, making you last just one moment more before a staccato moan leaves your lips, and jinsoul is catching your release with her lips, pulling the end of the brush out and replacing it with her knowing tongue, thrusting it in and out of you to help you ride out your high.

💄₊˚⊹♡

“aaaand there.” she says, cleaning the rest of her spit and release mixture off your thighs. “seriously baby.. you kept making mistakes.. i don’t want you to do that badly just because of me. i know you can do better. okay?” “okay.. i’m sorry, ma’am.” you respond, looking down at your trembling thighs. “don’t be, i know you can do better, sweetie. ‘m proud of you.”

#gowonder: writes #gowonder: smut #jinsoul #jinsoul x reader #jinsoul imagines #jinsoul ff #jinsoul fanfic #jinsoul hard hours #jinsoul hard thoughts #loona #loona x reader #loona imagines #loona ff #loona fanfic #loona hard hours #loona hard thoughts #jinsoul x fem reader

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meirimerens · 2 months

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absolutely gorgeous art. genuinely made me see the beauty in life.

and your writing? brother. (<- in tears)

one thing i want to ask you:

so we see Farkhad mainly through the Stamatin's view, i feel.

do you have any thoughts on Farkhad as a person? how he was as a kid? or a teenager? or is he for you only "existent" as an extension of the Stamatins? as this mysterious being... if you catch my drift.

THANK YOOUUU 🫶🫶🫶 very touched... the world is so beautiful and i can only try to approach its beauty. & more writing to come soon but this time it's evil.

and ok. ok. hehe. [1-frame glitch where i appear as an evil dog smiling] ok. hahaha héhéhé okay so basically.

farkhad's purposefully ambiguous to me, by me, through m(e/y telling of him). this is his design. this is paramount to his comprehension of him as a character to me. he is to me, but also to the real, lived and played, experienced narrative of the game, exclusively alive as an extension of the stamatins - it is them who give him (t)his game. there would be no farkhad without the twins, for it is them who named him this. he is nameless without them. however, and it is perhaps better articulated this way, more than being an extension of the stamatins... they are an extension of him. when i design him based on 18th-early 20th century persian portraiture it is because i anchor him, his physicality, in an art that predates the narrative, even his life as it is experienced by the twins. when i joke he was sculpted on the Achaemenid friezes, i mean it, when i joke he spoke(/speaks) ancient arameic by having been there when it was spoken, i mean it. and i don't. i'm fucking wit you and i'm not. this is what happened to the twins as well. this is something that i'm currently exploring in my current WIP but the way i conceptualize him is like..... a greek or roman myth. in the same way a character from greek & roman literature can have multiple stories of their births, multiple stories of who their parents are, multiple stories of what their symbols and associations are depending on the region, on the time period, on the people who worshipped and read (or despised and tried to burn out of the records); this is what he is happening to him.

i do believe he has a story, a place of birth, parents, even a sibling. I think he has a younger sister who resembles him a lot. where he is a sculptor and an architect and only incidentally is a musician, she is a musician by trade as well as a dancer. both of his parents were well-educated, relatively middle class. they also owned ancient art, which very young gave him his liking for creation. it was obvious he was gay as a child, in ways that translated in a great artistic potential, and his parents encouraged him in that path and kinda... pretended-to-not-see the gay thing, because they saw the artistic potential, and found himself having to accept that one influenced the other. i believe he is an Aquarius - this mysterious sign which appears to be of water, but is actually of air (this sign which is the very last: closing of the zodiac year, he is closing of everything around. he is the closing statement; everything comes after him).

and i don't.

you know what i mean?

#evil dog smile #THANK YOU FOR ASKING. TEEHEES AND GIGGLES.#ring ring (answers)#anonymous #farkhad #farkhad pathologic #fourfold bullet #threeandahalffold bullet #<- not really those two but there is other pertinent info in those tags methinks #oneirotects

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tennessoui · 5 months

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wip.....friday ig

i am sooo sorry i was tagged in the wip wednesday thing and then just completely forgot to actually do it even though i very much planned to lol anyway here is a snippet of what im working on rn 3 guesses what it is

Hardeen is in the small med-wing of the ship. Someone had applied bacta to his face and to his neck. It must have been Anakin because his fingers are still covered with the substance. The last time he remembers touching Hardeen, his hands had been around his neck. And Hardeen had said— “Ari,” Obi-Wan had gasped like it had been his favorite word, panting out the syllables as Anakin drove into him over and over, body spreading, body taking, taking everything Aristel could give him, everything he had when he had never really had anything more than a name that was “Ari,” Obi-Wan had murmured far too early in the morning, pressing a kiss against his newly crooked nose as he hovered beside his bed already dressed and ready to leave but reluctant to go while Aristel was still asleep, reluctant to go before he could say “Ari,” Obi-Wan had sighed when he’d found him asleep at his table instead of in his bed, but how could he ever understand just how big the bed felt, just how small these quarters were, just how strange this Temple was, even though a familiar boy wearing what would become his master’s face walked around and called him “Ari,” Obi-Wan had said, in a tone that hurt to hear, like they were equals—like he recognized something of himself in Anakin, like Aristel was the only one who could understand him, could love him, could stand to hear him say “Ari,” Obi-Wan had snapped when Aristel had needled too much at his padawan, but how could Aristel let it go, how could he exist around a version of himself who had everything he ever wanted, who had his master, who would have eleven more years with his master, when Aristel’s master was gone, when Anakin’s master was dead, when Anakin’s master’s murderer’s throat lurched beneath Anakin’s hands as he said— “Ari,” Hardeen had said. Hardeen had said, “Aristel.”

hehe

#wip wednesday #friday #whatever #enjoy anakin literally going insane during this chapter #t&t #obikin

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collegetennisoriginstory · 1 year

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I have to be honest

There's been a few attempts of high school/college type IF books on hosted games/choice of games and imo they weren't the best.

This though.... my god.

Not only that but you've blended the college/social aspect so well with the tennis aspect... phenomenal.

I highly anticipate the next update

Haha, glad you liked CT:OS!

You know, I had early doubts/second thoughts about writing an IF set in college because—it's tough; a huge, expansive setting with lots of people BUT I'm glad I stuck with it because it is also so much FUN to write the chaotic hijinks of college :D

Golden by @milaswriting and @emersonfreepress are both IF WIPs set in a school setting that I love -- if you're ever in need of more school-based IFs :) but hehe thanks for the praise, I'll definitely take it 🥰🥰

#ct:os #college tennis: origin story #if #interactive fiction #asks

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anincompletelist · 5 months

Text

2023 year in review :D

THANK YOU @kiwiana-writes for always including me <3 I adore you and it was so much fun to see all that you've accomplished this year!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. There are no rules!

233, 369 words published to ao3 (+ like another 80k depending on when bridesmaids is posted hehe)

2 published fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue (book), One Direction (soldouthaz)

most recent work: this guy, the prequel to this dude <3

longest published fic: (for rwrb) praying our bridges don't make waves (82k)

longest published oneshot: Sure As the Stars in the Sky (20k)

bridesmaids is currently at 75k

hitman au is currently at 15k

speak easy / poet henry is currently at 20k

diabetic alex au is currently at 7k

part two of this fic (dom!alex) is currently at 5k

+ about another 60k of random drabbles and unfinished snippets

but if you could see us from a distance, you'd know I've always been so close to you (E, 10k, 743 kudos)

Objectively, standing half-soaked from rainwater with a stitch in his side and an uncomfortable, raging hard-on outside his worst enemy’s door is not Henry’s finest moment. It’s not even on the list. [or, henry is afflicted with a curse-gone-wrong that stipulates that only his sworn enemy, alex claremont-diaz, can touch him.]

praying our bridges don't make waves (E, 82k, 642 kudos)

When June gets sick, Alex knows he'll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets the care that she needs. Even if that means convincing his nemesis/sexuality-crisis-inducing/clandestine hook-up partner/somewhat of an actual friend to pretend to be his soulmate in order to pull it off. It's both more and less complicated than it sounds.

I'll bet it all on me and you, I'll bet it all you're bulletproof (M, 11k, 527 kudos)

“Let’s do this,” he says. “Let’s,” Alex agrees, pushing down on the handle until the door swings open. “After you, boyfriend.” This is most definitely not his finest idea. Henry usually practices much better self preservation skills. Much better common senseskills. He steps over the threshold of Alex’s room and it feels like sealing his fate. They’re doing this for Alex to win over their bosses in a lighthearted game with a harmless lie, but Henry can’t fight off the bitter knowledge that, regardless of how tonight goes, Alex will be fine, but Henry has so much to lose.

total kudos: 4,495

total comment threads: 449

total bookmarks: 1,922

total subscriptions: 292

total word count: 223, 369.

total hits: 53, 676

firstprince first kisses (6 works, 57k, incomplete/ongoing)

the place lightning hits ground (1 work, 12k, incomplete)

everybody needs someone (2 works, 24k, completed)

current wips that have word counts:

bridesmaids au

hitman alex

poet henry

diabetic alex au

truman show au

boxer alex au

soft dom henry for this series

part 2 of soft dom alex for this series too

current wips that are on the to-do list:

happiest season au

rival wineries au

alex is medusa, henry is midas

museum guide henry / substitute teacher alex

+ sooooo many little unrelated one shot and drabble ideas and more for this series

I just posted this fic earlier today:

take my hand if you can take me as i am (E, 14k)

It would hurt less, Alex guesses, if he wasn’t head over heels for the guy he’s supposed to be fucking through an ancient one-sided sex curse with that was partially — a lot, actually — his own fault. But. It’s not like there’s a fucking handbook. Alex has looked.

and bridesmaids is in the final stretch and will most likely begin posting early january, if not the end of this month!

my ao3

my spotify

tags:

general fic recs + reblogs

my rec lists

fic rec fridays

my wips + updates/snippets

my edits

oh boy okay first off PLEASE DO NOT FEEL OBLIGATED TO DO THIS but also I would LOVE to give all of ya'll a chance to brag on yourselves if you're up for it!

so consider this an OPEN TAG but also @affectionatelyrs @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @daisymae-12 @read-and-write- @happiness-of-the-pursuit @raysletters @heybuddy-drabbles @rockyroadkylers @sparklepocalypse @zwiazdziarka @littlemisskittentoes @getmehighonmagic @magicandarchery and anyone else who would like to do this! pls tag me so I can come scream at you (affectionately!)

I'm so ridiculously grateful for you guys and for this space to create and connect in, and I can't wait to take all of this lovely energy into next year as well. I'm so excited for everything we all have coming! :D

I hope you guys are all doing well!

-sarah / anincompletelist

#about me #my fic #fic recs #year in review #wips #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince

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