Oh my god, your profile is so gorgeous

thank you so much!!! 🥰

This is an appreciation post for the fanfic authors who aren’t included on rec lists

For the fanfic authors who don’t get art of their fics

For the fanfic authors who can’t get to 1000/500/100 hits

For the fanfic authors who don’t get comments/reviews

For the fanfic authors who write for small fandoms

For the fanfic authors who write rarepairs or gen fics

For the fanfic authors who get hate for the ships/characters/fandoms they write

For the fanfic authors who write in English despite it not being their first language

For the fanfic authors who don’t write in English

For the fanfic authors who don’t think anyone reads or likes their work

For the fanfic authors who aren’t big name fans

For the fanfic authors who don’t get requests in their inboxes

For the fanfic authors who can’t write stories that are more than a thousand words

For the fanfic authors who only write one ship

For the fanfic authors who are just starting

For the fanfic authors who have been writing fic for years

For the fanfic authors who use fanfic to practice writing

For the fanfic authors who write self-insert fics

For the fanfic authors who write about their OCs

For the fanfic authors who write to vent or cope

For the fanfic authors who are just waiting for their big break

Keep creating, I love you ❤️

lovebrush chronicles ⇢ THEY FIND THE DRAWING YOU DID OF THEM

ft. ayn alwyn, alkaid mcgrath, lars rorschach & clarence clayden

when you asked AYN if you could drop by the piano room and watch him practice, he didn’t expect you to take a seat on the far corner of the room, nose deep in your sketchbook. you’ve barely had a full conversation with him since you got here and he can’t understand why—you’re usually very chatty. he can’t help but scowl as he glances at you. he’s about to call for your attention when your phone rings and you immediately excuse yourself out of the room, “i’ll be right back.” as soon as the door clicks shut, he eyes your sketchbook which is now unsupervised. he knows he shouldn’t look but curiosity killed the cat. he gets up from his seat and strides across the room to peek at your work then his breath hitches. right before his eyes is a rough sketch of a raven-haired boy slightly hunched over a piano, his back on the artist—you. you’re drawing him. in a state of fluster, ayn quickly sets the sketchbook down in the same position he found it—hell, he can’t remember it. he’s too preoccupied by the fact that you’re sketching him that he registers a second too late that you’ve already returned, catching him fiddling with the sketchpad. before you can say a word, ayn walks back to the piano without sparing you a glance, “i didn’t see anything.” you feel the mortification in your system vanish as quickly as it came, now stiffling a giggle that threatens to escape your lips. ayn being more flustered when it was you who got caught drawing him is actually comical. you don’t even resist the urge to tease him, “really?” “really,” he answers curtly. “then why are you being weird?” “why are you drawing me?” ayn retorts with a tinge of accusation as he turns to glare at you but you’re not even slightly intimidated. you prod, “so you did see it?” ayn looks away from your smug expression upon his lack of rebuttal, doing his best to conceal the color in his cheeks with his hair. “i wasn’t going to,” you explain truthfully, “but you were so in your element i couldn’t help but… ‘capture’ the moment,” you say with air quotes, “i like drawing you.” ayn feels his heart skip a beat but as emotionally constipated as he is unable to handle your admission, he grumbles despite blushing furiously, “just ask me to come to the art studio next time.”

ever since ALKAID invited you to picnics or simple strolls around nature, you’ve developed a habit of making quick sketches of the scenery around you. but today’s an exception. with the cool breeze and the soothing warmth of the sun while you and alkaid sit side by side under a tree, it’s all just too relaxing. alkaid is busying himself with his camera when he suddenly feels a soft impact on his shoulder. when he glances at you, he can’t help but smile, endeared by the sight of you asleep. your sketchbook is left open and your grip on the pencil has loosened enough that a sudden gust of wind flips the pages and alkaid gets a glimpse of the drawing you had done of him. saying he’s surprised is an understatement. he finds it unbelievable that you’d ever choose him as your muse. alkaid isn’t one to pry but he can’t resist turning the pages over to get a good look at your drawing, taking in its rough details and pencil strokes. it looks beautiful, he notes, barely fighting a smile upon the realization that this is how you see him. before you stir awake, alkaid reaches over and with careful fingers, he takes your pencil and inserts it between the binding of your sketchbook like a bookmark before flipping it shut. he decides against mentioning it to you until the next day. alkaid goes out of his way to find you on campus, “hey, i was looking for you.” “why?” “it’s just, um…” he trails off, turning hesitant as if he’s choosing his words carefully, “do you want to make a trade?” “trade?” before you can ask more questions, alkaid takes out what you think is a piece of paper from his pocket until you get a clear view of it and realize it’s a candid picture of you. sounding hopeful, he offers it to you, “this for your drawing of me.”

“there you are!” LARS says, beaming when he finds you working on an art piece in one of the academy’s studios. “hi,” you smile at him, “why were you looking for me?” lars shrugs, “just wanted to see you.” amused, you roll your eyes at his subtle flirting before getting back to work. you don’t mind lars’ company alongside his occasional praises, varying from that looks nice to i’d buy that. you actually like having him around. lars is going through your artworks when he suddenly speaks, “how much for this?” you tear your eyes away from your canvas to find him having one of your sketchbooks in hand. “which one?” you ask and you can’t even begin to describe your shock when lars turns it over. there it is facing you, the page where you did a drawing of him. you dart towards lars but he quickly gets on his feet, taking advantage of his tall stature to hold the sketchbook out of your reach. “give it back!” you snap but lars only snickers. “how much for this?” he repeats the question, more smugly this time. after a few failed attempts to snatch the sketchbook from his grip, lars eventually decides to hand it over. “you weren’t supposed to see that,” you grumble, tearing off that page and crumpling it into a ball out of embarrassment. you’re about to toss it in the bin when lars takes it from you, flattening the paper to look at the drawing once more. “can i keep it?” he asks sincerely. “it’s just a warmup sketch…” you mumble, your tone a clear contrast to lars’ boldness. for a few seconds, lars doesn’t speak as if he’s forming the words in his head, “did you draw me from memory?” when you give him a sheepish nod, the smirk on his face reappears, “you think about me that much?” you simply groan at his teasing which makes him cackle but he soon backtracks before you can grab the paper from his hand and dispose it. “thank you,” he says, “i really like it.”

you’re rushing to your next class when you run into CLARENCE, causing you both to drop your belongings. “sorry!” you squeak, crouching down to hastily grab your things and with a sigh, clarence follows suit. “running late again?” he teases. you throw him a lighthearted glare at the accusation before grumbling, “our professor dismissed us late.” you hear him chuckle at your retort but the sound comes to an abrupt halt. at his sudden silence, you slide your gaze over to him and you immediately realize why—he’s holding a notebook which is now opened to a page with a rough sketch of him on it. before clarence can say anything, you immediately yank your sketchbook out of his hands and rise to your feet. “um…” you begin to stammer while clarence remains quiet save for the sound he makes when he clears his throat. he’s unable to look you in the eye as he stands upright, now fiddling with his necktie with unadulterated focus. “i swear i’m not a creep or anything,” you explain weakly, a surge of humiliation washing over you, “i was just… practicing.” you wince upon hearing your words and you can’t help but apologize—whether it’s for the sketch or your lame excuse, you’re not sure. maybe both. “i’m sorry,” you tell clarence, “i’ll throw it away.” “don’t,” clarence answers a bit too earnestly that he himself is taken aback. “it’s…” he trails off, looking sheepish, “it’s a really good drawing.” you gape at clarence. that was not reaction you expected from him. saving himself from further fluster, clarence drops the subject and points at the time, “you’re already late for next period.” “shit!” “language,” he scolds you in his student council president tone. “sorry!” you don’t wait for a response before you’re running off to your next class. as clarence watches you disappear from view, he wonders if you’d let him keep the drawing if he asked.

can i request fruba’s reaction to the first time they hug you when the curse is broken without you knowing? like it’s a complete surprise and you’re so happy? thank you so much!

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE IT IS!!! i don’t usually take requests to take the pressure of writing off of me but i just loved this prompt sm i couldn’t say no 😭

ft. kyo sohma, yuki sohma, hatori sohma & shigure sohma (separate)

after witnessing your failed attempts at making one rice ball, KYO suddenly decides to join you in the kitchen, “pay attention. i’ll only teach you once.” you fight back a smile because you know he’ll keep teaching you as long as you keep asking but you don’t point that out lest he change his mind. you expect kyo to grab a handful of rice. instead, he stands right behind you and cages you in his arms, putting his hands over yours to help you mold the clump of rice you already have in your palms. when you’re reminded of his curse, you quickly spin on your heels and push him away, dropping your rice ball in the process. to your surprise, kyo doesn’t seem remotely offended by your action. he’s more focused on the clusters of rice now scattered around your feet. a click of his tongue hits your ears before you hear him say, “you just wasted a good rice ball.” however, the expression on his face is free of disappointment—a small smile slowly curls on his lips as he waits for a realization to dawn on you and eventually, it does. “you’re…” you mutter in disbelief, caressing his face as if to convince yourself you’re not dreaming, “you’re not a cat…” at your reaction, kyo’s chuckles cuts through the momentary silence before he holds you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head in wordless confirmation—this is real. and you immediately return his affection, not wanting to wait another second to bask in his touch. you don’t know which higher power to thank but you still find yourself silently expressing your gratitude like a prayer now that kyo’s curse is lifted. when you pull away, he reaches for the bowl of rice behind you. “this isn’t enough for the two of us,” he deadpans as if a life-changing moment didn’t just happen. you’re itching to ask him when he knew but you deem it a conversation for another time when a suggestion suddenly pops in your head. “we can go out and celebrate instead,” you say cheekily, “i’ve always wanted to try this cat café.” kyo rolls his eyes and you can’t help but laugh. “what?” you defensively exclaim in between giggles, “cats won’t cling to you anymore.”

ever since YUKI went away for college, the only time you’ve really had with each other is when he comes home to visit. you usually have an itinerary prepared but this time, yuki decides to ditch all that. “you have a surprise for me?” you teased him once on video call. yuki simply shrugged, laughing. you tried to coax it out of him but he didn’t budge. “if i told you then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he countered and when you gave him a pout, he added, “i’ll just see you at home, okay? i love you.” so here you are now, sat in your living room while you wait for yuki to arrive. thankfully, it’s not long before you hear a click from the lock of your front door. “yuki!” you beam at the sight of him and he immediately mirrors your expression. you’re about to take his bags when he swings them out of your reach, carelessly dropping his things to the floor before he snakes his arms around your middle. in a panic, you freeze in his touch and soon, you’re attempting to shove him off of you. “yuki, your curse!” you cry but he only snuggles further into your body. and that’s when it hits you. the boy you love hasn’t turned into a rodent which can only mean one thing—there’s no more curse. you don’t know when or how and as hard as you try, you’re unable to form words to ask yuki about it with your emotions beginning to take over you. yuki only chuckles at your lack of response, “surprise.”

snap. HATORI immediately stops in his tracks upon the sudden sensation, “did you feel that?” “huh?” hatori is almost sure what he felt but he decides to brush it off at your confusion. “tori, you okay?” you ask, raising your hands to cradle his face but he involuntarily flinches at the closeness in case it triggers the curse. “sorry,” you quickly add. he shakes his head, declining your apology, “it’s fine.” you don’t talk about it any further on the rest of the way home but you’ve already reached your doorstep and he still seems distracted. you don’t want to part ways like this so you try again, “are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he doesn’t answer. “hatori?” “can i…” he starts before trailing off hesitantly. he doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence. without a word, he steps closer until there’s barely an inch between you then he wraps you in his embrace. “hatori, no!” you try to push him away in panic but you catch yourself in that same instant when you realize he hasn’t turned into a seahorse. holding your breaths, you both wait in silence for the curse to take effect but the next thing you feel is hatori’s arms tightening around you, making it clear he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon. before your emotions can get the better of you, a chuckle is bubbling past your lips in relief, releasing any tension that has filled the air. “you have a lot of cuddles to make up for,” you tease hatori but your voice comes out weakly as you keep your tears at bay. and with you in his arms, hatori has never felt so grateful, “then let’s stay like this for a little while.”

“hi,” you beam at SHIGURE the moment he enters your home, “how was your day?” he doesn’t answer right away as if to ponder your question. “it was…” he momentarily trails off before adding, “interesting.” your eyebrows knot in confusion and that’s when you notice something’s off about him but before you can pose another question, shigure leans closer until he’s almost just about your eye level. “can i have a kiss?” he asks before he’s pouting his lips, sporting an effective pair of puppy eyes as you would expect from the dog incarnate. but all that effort only earns him a dubious look from you which elicits a dramatic sigh out of his mouth, “you know i’ve had a long day.” you can’t help but snort at his sulking but you eventually grant him his request. you’re careful to maintain a distance to avoid triggering the curse but in a swift and sudden motion, shigure pulls you flush against him as he kisses you with more fervor. your poor attempt to push him away does little to nothing against his strong arms that he can’t help but smirk against your lips. soon, he’s pulling away, his visage looking brazen as ever, “what’s wrong?” completely stunned and stupefied, you struggle to form the words on your tongue but a single thought plays in your mind—the curse is broken. when your eyes begin to well up, shigure’s cocky grin is immediately replaced with a smile so sincere that it’s such a striking contrast to the words that come out of his mouth, “we can do whatever we want.” then he’s kissing you again.

some of you need to romanticise the fucking paragraph break

which storyline do you prefer? godheim or eden?

ohhhh i think godheim??? story wise, it felt a bit more cohesive and imo the pacing was better. also i literally sobbed over alkaid’s story when he was slowly turning into ice shsjaksak but in terms of characters, i like their eden counterparts better. like they just felt more human if that makes sense? even eden!alkaid was hard to hate. godheim!clarence was getting on my nerves in the beginning JDJSJSJS

lovebrush chronicles ⇢ NOT LEAVING THIS GARDEN OF EDEN

you did follow through your plan, you tell yourself. you saved earth and went straight back home. you just didn’t plan on going back to eden. after all, home is where the heart is.

ft. ayn alwyn, alkaid mcgrath, lars rorschach & clarence clayden

note: reimagined eden endings because i’m still sad i didn’t pull a single eden ssr illustra <//3 also i apologize for the big blocks of texts lmao

“hey, chief. remember little leaf?” o’connor suddenly asks. AYN freezes at the mention of his second-in-command’s endearment for you and though he doesn’t mean to intimidate his companion, there’s a permanent glare in his gaze on o’connor which makes the latter panic in fear. o’connor’s hands shoot straight to his head as he begs, “please don’t burn my hair. it was just a question.” the chief stifles a snort, “i’m not gonna do anything.” o’connor sighs in relief before ayn answers his earlier inquiry, “i remember. why do you ask?” “i was just wondering. how do you think she’s doing?” in an attempt to mask the longing he still feels since you left, ayn simply shrugs, “safe, probably. she’s home now.” “she is.” it’s not o’connor who speaks this time and just like that, ayn feels his entire body go tense—he’d know that voice anywhere. unbeknownst to him, you’ve been standing just a few feet behind him. the moment you walked into the busy tavern today, the members of the order perked up at the sight of you but before they could express the slightest glee, you urgently signalled them to hush. you’re grateful that despite their undying loyalty to ayn, they play along. when you finally speak, the room falls into complete silence as every single member of the order awaits ayn’s reaction. his suspicions are confirmed by the smirk from o’connor who’s now looking past him and straight at you, beaming, “hey, little leaf!” ayn spins on his heel to face you, the usually blunt man now rendered speechless. you can’t help but tease him, “i can’t believe i managed to sneak up on you. you’re losing your touch, ayn.” the seconds that follow pass in a blur and you find yourself in the strong yet gentle embrace of ayn’s arms once again. “you’re back…” ayn mutters, clear disbelief in his tone as if to convince himself that he’s not dreaming and you barely contain your giggles, feeling hopelessly smitten with this boy, “like you said. i’m home.”

with the lantern glowing in his hand, ALKAID is strolling along a commercial district—the exact replica of the street he took you to in eden—and like they always do, his thoughts drift back to you. if you could see this new eden, would you be proud of him? he can’t help but wonder. he hasn’t fully regained his capacity to feel a multitude of emotions since he paid the price to rebuild eden into a better place but one thing’s for certain—he yearns for you. but he also knows that if a star were to fall from the sky tonight, it would be incredibly selfish of him to wish for your return. he can only wish for your safety and happiness wherever you are. that should be enough, he tells himself. you already granted him three days to be his lover—much more than what he deserved after everything he had done. he’s not in any position to demand for more. but the universe is quick to differ because sitting on a bench just a few feet away now is your figure. before he can stop himself, alkaid calls your name and you immediately turn to the sound of his voice. both falling in a state of disbelief at the sight of each other, neither of you say anything for a moment. “hi,” you speak first. it takes some effort but alkaid manages to find his voice, “what are you doing here?” “i didn’t know where to look for you,” you suppose that’s not exactly what he meant with his question but your reply still answers it all the same—i came back because i promised i’d find you. your eyes then dart to the lantern in his hands, “you still have it.” “i kept it. i don’t know why i brought it with me though,” he admits bashfully, his boyish grin so childlike it leaves no trace of the master of eden he used to be. and it’s the loveliest you’ve ever seen him. “i was going to give it to you before you left,” alkaid adds, “you can have it now so you can bring it back home… if you want it.” “if that’s the only reason you’re giving it to me then i can’t take it,” you try to sound as solemnly as you can and guilt immediately gnaws at you when alkaid visibly deflates at the rejection. still, out of respect for your decision, he simply gives a resigned nod, ”i understand.” “i don’t think you do.” you can no longer fight the smile pulling on the corners of your lips and alkaid looks nothing short of confused. “alkaid, i’m staying.”

after a long trip beyond the borders of eden, LARS couldn’t be more ecstatic to go home and get some rest but as he rummages his backpack for his keys, something at the foot of the door catches his eye—a small pot of cactus. maybe his mind is playing tricks on him but the prickly succulent looks identical to the one he gifted you during your time in eden. he recounts the past events, from your arrival in this world down to the moment you left. he’s sure he packed the cactus for you. “at least, put that in a box before you stuff it in my bag next time,” you quip as you come into lars’s view, raising your finger to show him the small bandage over the spot where the cactus pricked you. with the traveler stood frozen and speechless, you take it upon yourself to cross the distance between the two of you. soon, lars is reaching for your hand as if to inspect the tiny wound but that is the furthest thing from his mind right now. he’s trying to process the sight of you standing in front of him and holding his hand and that this is all, in fact, very real. still, he manages to match your teasing. “how about daisies, hm? would that be better?” brazenness drips from his tone but there’s obvious sincerity swimming in his eyes. you can’t even describe how badly you missed those blue eyes. “much,” you tell him. in an instant, the playful atmosphere dissipates until there’s nothing but genuine longing in the air surrounding you both. “i thought you went home,” he says softly but you don’t miss the subtle shiver in his voice as he keeps it steady. “i did.” “why did you come back?” “i wanted to see you again.” “but it’s safer there.” “i feel safer with you.” lars doesn’t have a rebuttal to that. “i missed you, lars.” “i missed you, too,” he mutters as he takes you in his arms, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead, “are you sure about this? i don’t think i can let you go again.” with a giggle, you cradle his face and bring him closer for a kiss that he’s eager to reciprocate. “i don’t want you to,” you mumble against his lips.

eden has begun to live up to its name since CLARENCE took over but sometimes, the falcon in him still comes out and clarence finds himself at a shooting range practicing his aim—not that he ever needs it. he can hit multiple bullseyes in a row within seconds. but better safe than sorry and today is no exception. when he shoots the last of his ammunition, an audible thud shortly follows, catching his attention. he immediately glances at the target and at the center, among his many gunshots, one rubber bullet stands out. on full alert, clarence scans the area to deduce the possible source of the dart only to be met by the last person he ever expected to find in eden—you. “i didn’t think i’d get that on the first try,” you quip. “what are you doing here?” the urgency in his voice contradicts the cheeky expression on your face. “i took some shooting lessons and i wanted to show you,” you tell him proudly, “but i’m not sure if they’re eden standards.” clarence huffs out a laughter at your remark as he shakes his head in amusement. your playful wit hasn’t changed one bit, to his relief. “if you want me to teach you, just ask,” he banters. “i literally hit a bullseye,” you retort but clarence only shrugs, “beginner’s luck.” his mock indifference reminds you of the clarence—or rather, the falcon—you met when you first arrived in eden. it’s only been a few months but it all feels like a distant memory that you can’t help but laugh about it now. not wanting to waste another second apart from him, you cross the space separating you, running into his arms where he catches you with ease. “i was scared you wouldn’t remember me,” you mutter against his shoulder and a soft chuckle escapes him as he deems the mere idea of your confession ridiculous, “i never stopped thinking about you.” when you eventually pull away, clarence’s gaze drops to the gun in your hand. “what kind of gun is that?” “this?” you hold it up so clarence can get a better look at it, “it’s a nerf gun. and it’s just a toy.” you point the gun at clarence and aim for his arm. before he can protest, you pull the trigger to prove it causes no serious injury, “see?” still, the impact makes him flinch. “where did you get it?” “i brought it with me.” the insinuation of home in your reply slightly dampens clarence’s mood. he can’t help but ask, “how long are you staying?” “depends,” you answer in a tone that’s unwaveringly cheery, “how long are the lessons you promised?” the corners of clarence’s lips quirk up at your joshing and hope begins to bubble in his chest, “as long as you want them.”

HELLO! HOW ARE YOU? HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GOOD DAY❤️

HIIIII i’m doing okay!! i’ve just been really slow with writing but i’m hoping i’ll be able to post something soon. i hope your day’s going lovely 🩷

tell me why i was just looking at your pfp and thought it was the lorax

help 😭

⇢ scenarios

“i can hold the world in my hands” (ayn, alkaid, lars & clarence)

not leaving this garden of eden (ayn, alkaid, lars & clarence)

they find the drawing you did of them (ayn, alkaid, lars & clarence)

lovebrush chronicles ⇢ “I CAN HOLD THE WORLD IN MY HANDS”

how they react to you saying you can hold the world in your hands then gently cupping their face

ft. ayn alwyn, alkaid mcgrath, lars rorschach & clarence clayden

note: reader’s cat’s name in alkaid’s drabble is set to beans which i named my mc’s cat because i forgot what the default name was djsjdjsja

just as you expected, you find AYN in the music room, practicing his piece for an upcoming school program. careful not to make any noise, you tread lightly to where he’s sat, slowly sliding into the already little space next to him on the piano bench. without pausing his hands above the keys, ayn scoots over to give you more room. soon he’s playing the last key of the composition and the moment the sound fades into silence, he lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. unable to find the right words that would seem helpful, you simply lift a hand to brush his locks, straightening a few flyaways and fixing his bangs before you cradle his face in your palms in comfort. for a moment, you wordlessly stare at ayn, taking in his stunning visage, and he doesn’t miss the abrupt quiet. “what is it?” he asks to which you answer playfully, “nothing. just holding the world in my hands.” the smallest of smiles adorns ayn’s features in an instant but not without a subtle eye roll. still, his crimson eyes turn into rubies as a gleam of affection flickers in his gaze. “you’re distracting me,” he replies in jest. you let go of him as you jokingly put your hands up in mock surrender, “please don’t call your bodyguards on me.” that coaxes a chuckle out of ayn, “tempting.” soon, you feel his arm snake around your waist as he pulls you closer and when you don’t inch away from him, he resumes his practice.

you and ALKAID are sat side by side on the couch as you watch beans and sparkles roughhousing in the middle of your living room. you don’t notice how much time has passed but it feels like the silence has gone for too long when you speak. “you’re an astronomy major,” you tell alkaid. “yes,” he confirms earnestly as if the information wasn’t already glaringly obvious. “can you hold the world in your hands?” you ask him quizzically. alkaid is clearly caught off guard by your odd question so without waiting for a response you know you’re not getting, you raise your hands and gently cup his cheeks, “i can.” alkaid gives you no response and you begin to think he’s put off by the cheesy gesture until a smile stretches across his face and he finally speaks. “so you’re saying i’m about…” he pauses briefly as he tries to recall a fact, “12,756 kilometers big.” there’s a hint of amusement in alkaid’s expression as he relays the information to you but you only knit your eyebrows in confusion so he continues with a sheepish grin, “that’s the size of the earth.” “of course.” you can’t help but roll your eyes at his sense of humor but you also find it incredibly endearing that you don’t bother to stifle the giggle that bubbles past your lips. alkaid laughs at your reaction, “what?” “only an astronomy major would say that.”

LARS invited you to spend the day with him at work—“i’m feeling lonely,” he said over the phone, the pout on his voice very audible on your end of the line that you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. so here you both are, tangled up in each other’s embrace since the moment lars joined you on the couch in his office sometime during the afternoon. under the orange rays of the sunset passing through the glass walls of the room, his blue eyes shine more brightly than they already do and his blonde hair have turned golden. he looks ethereal like this. “something on my face?” his voice snaps you out of your reverie, smugness painted all over his visage. you realize he can tell you’ve been staring. earlier in the relationship, it would’ve flustered the hell out of you but now you simply mirror the expression on his face as you gently hold it in your palms and you’re immediately filled with pride when his breath hitches at your affection. “nothing,” you say with faux indifference, “just checking if i can hold the world in my hands.” lars’ ever so familiar cockiness dissolves from his features, instantly replaced by a loving look in his eyes, “well?” “i guess i can,” you murmur. the deep rumble of lars’ chuckle soon hits your ears then he’s pulling you close as a teasing smirk stretches across his face once more, “you are so in love with me.” and you don’t deny it. you lean further onto his chest as he tightens his hold on your body. against your cheek, you feel his heart pick up the pace and that tells you enough—lars rorschach is undoubtedly just as in love with you.

“knock knock,” you say as you poke your head through the door to the student council’s office and CLARENCE immediately turns to the sound of your voice. “hi,” you add with a grin that clarence returns—or tries to return rather. despite the softening of his gaze and the air of authority around him vanishing, it’s easy to notice the stress that has dampened his spirits. “hey,” he replies anyway. he invites you to join him at his desk and you gladly do, although carefully perching on the edge of the table. “everything okay, mr. president?” clarence huffs out a chuckle at the nickname before releasing an exasperated sigh. “what’s up?” you ask again and clarence answers this time. as an insignificant member of the student body, you only understand half of his student council worries—one of them being this year’s stellaris cup not having enough participants. “what if i join?” you suggest and clarence can immediately sense the halfheartedness in your tone. “you’d do that?” he asks dubiously, the corner of his lips now quirked up as he prepares to call you out on your bullshit. maybe you are just attempting to cheer him up but it’s the thought that counts. “i would,” you retort as you get on your feet with theatrical confidence, “for my first trick, i will hold the world in my hands.” clarence raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t interrupt so you walk around his desk until you’re standing in front of him. when your hands softly land on his face, he’s quick to understand what you mean and in your grip, he shakes his head in amusement but a subtle blush now dusts his cheeks. “that’s a winning talent if you ask me,” you jest. that earns you a laugh from clarence as he jokingly agrees, “it is.” in the same instance, you feel him lean further into your touch, closing his eyes as he basks in it then he sighs in pleasure.

you’re genuinely one of the best tokyo rev writers i’ve came across on here! not many writers can deliver the fics the way you do <3

THIS IS SUCH A HUGE COMPLIMENT TO ME THANK YOU 😭😭😭😭

i love your tr oneshots so much genuinely going to tear up at how sweet they are 🥹🥹 pls keep making them

shdsjdhsj i’m so glad you don’t find them cheesy 😭 thank you so much <333

fruits basket ⇢ WOULD YOU KISS ME FOR $10 OR THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD FOR $700?

ft. kyo sohma, yuki sohma, hatsuharu sohma & hatori sohma x f!reader (separate)

“hi,” you greet KYO with a perky tone that has him eyeing you suspiciously as you sidle up next to him. “what are you up to?” he asks and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “nothing. i just wanted to ask you something.” kyo doesn’t respond but he’s looking at you in anticipation so you continue, “would you kiss me for $10 or the prettiest girl in the world for $700?” it’s his turn to give you a quick eye roll which earns him a playful slap on the arm. “answer my question.” he sighs in resignation before replying definitively, “i’d kiss you for ten dollars.” “wow,” you drawl but a teasing smile tugs at your lips, “so you don’t think i’m the prettiest girl in the world?” kyo lightly bonks your head. “i already answered your question.”

over video call, you’re halfway through a game of 20 questions with YUKI when you ask him, “would you kiss the prettiest girl in the world for $700 or me for only ten bucks?” and you don’t expect him to already come up with an answer in an instant. “normally,” he says with emphasis, pausing for a second before he continues, “i’d kiss you.” you immediately feel your eyes turn into saucers. “what do you mean ‘normally’?!” yuki cracks up but he doesn’t relent, “i’m in college. i would need the money.” “i’m actually gonna break up with you.” he laughs harder at the empty threat before schooling his features as if to appease you, “you know you’re the most beautiful girl to me. i’d kiss you for 700 dollars.” “nice save.”

minutes have passed since you asked HATSUHARU your question yet all you’ve gotten from him so far is the blank expression on his face—he seems to be pondering over it as he stares into the distance. “so…” you speak, easing him out of his thoughts, “what’s your answer?” he then looks you in the eye and says, “i’d kiss you.” at the tip of your tongue sits a teasing comment in an attempt to dare hatsuharu to name someone prettier than you but he cuts you off with a kiss, his lips on yours, immediately wiping the smirk off your face. when he eventually pulls away, his expression is still as neutral as ever. “that’s ten dollars.” bastard.

“hi, tori.” you walk over to HATORI where he’s sat at his desk, reading some files at the moment but he doesn’t mind your intrusion into his workspace. “hi, sweetheart.” “you busy?” “i have time,” he says as he takes off his glasses. “okay. i have a question.” hatori swivels in his chair away from his table, making room for you to sit on his lap which you happily do. “okay,” you repeat, “would you kiss me for ten dollars or the prettiest girl in the world for 700?” that is the last thing hatori expected to come out of your mouth but he decides to play along, taking his time to mull it over. “just say i’m ugly,” you joke which elicits a chuckle from him. “you know i don’t think that.” “then what’s your answer?” “i would kiss you,” he says sincerely. as soon as he catches the telltale sign of you holding back a smirk, he quickly adds, “don’t ask-” “who’s prettier than me then?” you interrupt, satisfied with yourself when hatori only sighs. he knew it.

your themis hcs are so cute! i feel like you really get the characters correctly <3

thank you so much 🥹 i’m lowkey nervous about the way i write vyn because his eloquence is wayyy above my writing skills JSJAKSK so this was really nice to see <33

tears of themis ⇢ YOU DECIDE TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT

ft. luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen & vyn richter

you’re shifting restlessly on the couch when you catch your LUKE alarm keychain—handmade by luke himself—peeking from behind the armrest, “luke says he’s sorry.” you can’t help but smile at the sound of luke faking a small voice and whatever rage that filled you from your argument hours ago has now dissipated, endeared by the sweet gesture. “you’re gonna set off that alarm by accident,” you quip, the lightness in your tone encouraging luke to come into view. “you’re not mad anymore?” he asks, cautious yet hopeful. all his years of training and building a hard exterior to be a detective have nothing on you because in the warmth behind his hazel eyes that only you can bring out, you still find the boy you grew up with. the boy you’ve always loved. “i can’t stay mad at you,” you admit, on the brink of tears, “luke, i’m really sorry…” luke is quick to bring you in his arms, declining your apology because that’s what he does—he’ll blame everything before he’ll blame you. you’re unable to hold back a sob, prompting him to hold you tighter before he whispers in your ear, “let’s not do this again, okay?”

ARTEM is going over a recent case when he realizes it’s almost midnight. he’s usually one to pull an all-nighter but gnawing at the back of his mind is the argument he had with you today—you two haven’t spoken to each other since. after having decided to put off his work until tomorrow, he walks out of his home office to join you in bed but he finds you in the living room instead, your pillows and blanket already set up on the sofa. he can tell you’re aware of his presence from the way you’re deliberately not looking in his direction. still, he attempts to catch your attention with a soft call of your name. when you don’t reply, he carefully crosses the distance between the two of you. “we can’t fix this if you won’t talk to me,” he pleads. artem’s convinced his words have fallen on deaf ears until you finally speak, “i just don’t want to say the wrong thing again.” artem understands, thinking back to what started as a simple disagreement escalating into something it shouldn’t have and before you could stop it, you were both raising your voices at each other, saying things you didn’t mean. “i’m sorry about everything i said,” your voice sounds weak as it quivers and artem immediately wraps you in his embrace. “me too,” he tells you, “we can talk tomorrow. just come to bed.” when you nod into his chest, he presses a reassuring kiss at top of your head as he promises, “we’re alright.”

as MARIUS waits for you in bed, anxiety slowly eats away at him, the argument he had with you hours ago replaying in his mind. you should’ve walked in by now, he thinks, so he waits a few more minutes before getting on his feet and makes his way downstairs. he’s rehearsing his apology, muttering to himself to test the words on his tongue but it all flies out the window when he finds you asleep on the sofa. ridden with guilt, he decides to save his sorry’s for tomorrow when you’re both lucid for a proper conversation. marius is careful not to wake you up—gently slipping an arm beneath your head and looping the other under your knees to carry you to the bedroom. he’s tucking you in bed when you begin to stir awake. “sorry,” you hear him whisper, “didn’t mean to wake you up.” “what time is it?” you ask groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “it’s late. go back to sleep.” he places a tender kiss on your forehead to lull you to your slumber before he shifts you on your side, his chest against your back as he slides an arm across your torso. “sweet dreams,” he mutters and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. “marius?” “hm?” “i’m sorry about earlier…” “that’s my line, miss,” he quips, albeit sincerely. he gives your body a gentle squeeze as he pulls you flush against him. “i’m sorry, too,” he replies, “i never want you to go to sleep upset.”

you’re getting settled on the couch when you hear VYN clear his throat as he carefully places a fresh cup of tea on the table in front of you. “chamomile tea,” he states, “it will help you sleep better.” there’s the slightest caution in his voice but it’s enough to tell you what the tea is for—peace offering after your heated disagreement earlier. “thank you,” you mumble, gradually feeling the guilt bubbling in your chest, “you’re using reverse psychology on me, aren’t you?” there’s no bite in your tone but vyn’s eyes still widen at the accusation. “n-no,” he stutters and a giggle involuntarily escapes you, to vyn’s surprise. “i’m joking.” when you notice his body language go lax, you slowly reach for his hand. “and i’m sorry for the things i said to you,” you tell him, “i didn’t mean it.” “i know.” a soft smile curls on his lips as he interlocks your fingers together, “so am i.” you stay quiet for a moment, basking in his touch that you missed terribly before he speaks again. “if you still wish to be alone tonight, i don’t mind staying here.” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, aware of the fact that this is just him assessing your boundaries—vyn does mind and you know that—so you shoot him a dubious look instead to which he responds with a sheepish smile. “i suppose you’ve changed your mind?” you actually give him an eye roll this time. “you know you had me at chamomile.”

tokyo revengers ⇢ “JUST A LOOK FROM YOU, I COME UNDONE” ft. ran haitani

song: 4 ever 4 me by demi lovato

wc: 1k

warnings: none except maybe ran is a little ooc

note: this is for @iitoshi’s the only truth is music collab. sorry for being late but thank you for letting me join!! happy new year <3

“there. all done,” you finally speak, though softly, after a stretch of silence and with a careful touch, you run your thumb along the bandage over the deep wound on ran’s eyebrow.

“thanks,” he mutters.

you’d think he’d be used to obtaining some cuts and bruises by now but from the moment he got home from a gang brawl tonight, all you’ve sensed from him is the absence of his familiar smugness and nonchalance—paradoxically speaking—as he looks a bit more pained than usual and you hate it.

you hate seeing him like this.

you look around the room in search for anything to lighten the mood when you see, propped up right in a corner is his baton.

in a lightbulb moment, you shoot up from your seat, excitement tingling at your fingertips as you stride across the room to retrieve your boyfriend’s weapon. you anticipate it to be heavy in your hand but surprisingly, you lift it with enough ease.

when you finally get a good look at it, you immediately notice the scratches on the surface—some more visible than the others—and the material has lost its shine, too. but despite the quality deteriorating from years of usage, you can only assume it still does the job to ran’s standard as he carries it around with him to this day.

you’re certain he used it tonight but you don’t focus on that. you have a different purpose in mind.

“ran, look.”

at the sound of your voice, he spins in his seat and as soon as his eyes land on you, you fix your stance and raise the baton. with a grin, you begin to twirl it in your hand like a majorette.

for a moment, ran only looks at you with the most unreadably impassive expression you’ve ever seen him pull off but you don’t get a chance to decipher it as a ghost of a smile soon appears on his lips.

it’s working, you think.

“you’re gonna hurt yourself.” his warning comes out halfheartedly, amusement now written all over his face.

“i won’t.” you beam with pride as you refuse to let it deter you but as if on cue, the weapon hits you just above your eyebrow. “shit.”

you hiss in pain, prompting you to drop the baton and let it clank on the floor. you expect ran to panic but he only pinches the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh then he gestures at you to walk back to your chair.

“told you so.” he sounds tired but looking closely, you notice his mouth is still quirked up at the corners—and smugly so—as he grabs the first aid kit to patch you up this time.

“shut up,” you grumble, slumping back into your seat. “you distracted me.”

he snickers. “just stay still.”

you take a deep breath, steeling yourself from the pain that may possibly come with the pressure from ran’s hand but as he begins to dab a small piece of cotton on your wound, there’s only a sharp sting from the disinfectant. it doesn’t last long though, as he gently blows on the small injury to soothe the pain.

right here, you see the difference between ran haitani and ran. just ran.

countless times you’ve witnessed his lips curl with sinister as the images of other people’s torment surely flashed in his mind. you’ve held his hands and wiped them clean of blood—and more often than not, it wasn’t his. but as he cradles your face in his palm, you realize that his iron fist has a polarizing featherlight touch, delicate and benign when he wants it to be.

either way, he makes you feel equally safe.

staring at your boyfriend’s face that is currently etched with focus, you take a mental picture of the situation—a notorious gangster tending to a civilian’s wound. you can’t help but find it hilarious.

“what’s so funny?” ran asks.

“we’re matching,” you reply with a giggle, pointing at the gauze on his eyebrow.

he can’t help but reciprocate your mirth with a chuckle of his own. “i can’t believe you’re enjoying this.”

“guess i got desensitized by dating a delinquent,” you retort. “you should put me in your gang. someone’s gotta help rindou cover your ass.”

“who did this to you again?” he presses a finger over your self-inflicted wound, applying just enough force to elicit a wince from you without hurting you severely. “not a chance.”

then there it is.

ran simply watches your irises glide along your upper lash line when you roll your eyes at his reply and as you soon fixate on his purple ones, staring right into his soul, he can only find the love you hold for him in each sparkle of your eye.

and if each sparkle were a star, your eyes would be an endless vast of a twinkling sky—infinitely more than ran knows he deserves and yet, it’s a constellation that’s just for him to see.

ran’s never been one to thank a higher power for being alive but in that moment, he finds himself doing so.

maybe it’s his whole life being tangled up in delinquency that made him too reckless, too bold for his own good but death was never his biggest fear. maybe he never feared it at all.

before he met you. before he found something—someone—to protect that wasn’t just him and his brother. before he found the one person who managed to blunt all his edges.

as the mere thought of it terrifies him still to an unfamiliar extent, he comes to an epiphany that he’s been wary of the wrong people this whole time.

it’s you who will be the death of him.

“earth to ran…” your voice snaps him out of his reverie. “you okay?”

and just like that, his heartbeat picks up the pace like it’s the first time all over again.

it’s so uncharacteristic of him, he thinks. not even a matter of life or death has ever made every nerve in his body go haywire yet you did it with the utterance of his name alone, its cadence so smooth and melodious.

“yeah,” he tells you anyway. “i feel better.”