#sunshine edits💜💜💜💜💜

[loveydoveylex]

HOW I'M FEELING. TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST

[mimpinightmare]

*SIGH...* I love this silly redhead so much... 😔💜💛

this ginger… spandex wearing twink… he will pay for his sins !!! (requested by anon)

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Limited edition- H.HJ

This is my present to beautiful @jehhskz. Happy birthday, Je!!! I hope you have a happy day, full of love and joy and surrounded by the most wonderful things. I wish you a lot of health, success and many more years of life. I truly love yapping about skz with you. Lova ya 🎂😚💜

Word count: 1.4k

No warnings

Alexa, play Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex

Hyunjin comes back from Japan the night before your birthday, tossing his suitcase aside like it means nothing compared to seeing you again.

“I brought you something”, he says, pulling a small gift bag from his hoodie pocket with a dramatic little wink, “Happy early birthday, baby”. 

You peer inside to find six delicate tubes of lip balm in soft pastel colors, each labeled in delicate Japanese script. 

You arch a brow, “You got me… lip balm?”

“I got you flavored lip balm”, he says proudly,  “Limited edition. Special just like you”.

You laugh, touched and amused at the same time, “Are you calling me dry lipped?”

“I’m calling you kissable”, he teases, and then adds with a wink, “And  now conveniently flavored”.

You scoff, but you’re already unscrewing the cap of the first one. 

Hyunjin settles beside you on the couch, impossibly close, “Let’s test them. You want me to tell you how they taste?”

 “No”, he says, lips curving into mischief,  “I want you to put them on… and I will tell you”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse jumps a little, “Fine”

You apply the first one— a soft pink shade tube labeled Peach Mochi. And then, you press your finger lightly to your lips, brushing it against his bottom lip. He flinches slightly, caught off guard.

“That’s cheating”,  he says pouting,  “I need the real thing”.

You look at him, “Then come and get it”.

His lips brush yours before you can say anything else. Soft and careful at first— just testing. Then deeper and slower, his thumb grazing your jaw as he pulls you closer.

When he pulls back, he licks his lips and exhales a little laugh, “Tastes like sunshine”, he murmurs. “Like… waking up to you in the morning. When you are bare faced and your hair is a bird nest. It’s warm. Soft. The kind of kiss that makes me want to stay in bed forever”

Your chest tightens just a little. He is always so… poetic, breathtaking.

You reach for the next one— something pale lavender named Lavender Milk. You apply it carefully this time, but before you can lift your hand to his lips again, he catches your wrist.

“No hands”, he says, “Only lips”.

You lean in, and he meets you halfway. This kiss is gentler this time. You feel his hand settle on your hip, squeezing it a little. He doesn’t speak at first, just keeps the tip of his nose pressed to yours, breathing you in. 

“That one feels like kissing you when you’re sad”, he says quietly, “Like I’d do anything to calm you down. Just the two of us, in a quiet room with your head on my chest. Safe”.

You feel your throat go dry, “You’re too good at this.”

He just smiles and nudges the third tube toward you— a coral rose labeled Strawberry Stardust. You swipe it on, and this time, you don’t even wait. You pull him in and press your lips to his. He kisses you back eagerly, mouth parting just enough to catch your lower lip.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, “That one? That’s the kind of kiss we share when we’re laughing too hard to breathe”, he says. “Like kissing you in the kitchen while we’re cooking, or in the rain because we missed the umbrella. It’s… bold, electric”.

You can’t stop the blush that blooms on your cheeks as his words hit your ears.

The next one is darker, a deep red— Black Cherry. You twist off the cap and swipe it on slowly, already dizzy from the attention in his eyes. When your lips touch this time, there’s no teasing. Just heat. The kiss is deeper. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, keeping you closer.

“That…”, he breathes against your lips, “Tastes like kissing you when I miss you so bad it hurts. Like late nights, long distance phone calls, and me thinking about you until I fall asleep. The desperation of not having you for a long time”.

He kisses you again, proving what he just said.

You don’t even realize your fingers are shaking when you reach for the next balm— a cool baby blue named Vanilla Frosting. You try to act unbothered after the last one, but he sees through it. He’s already leaning in before you can think twice. 

This kiss is cool at first, then warm. The contrast of the icy balm melting into something slow and smooth. He holds your face in both hands this time.

“It’s soft”, he says after, his voice husky. “Melts before you even notice it. Like kissing you in the middle of something chaotic and somehow, you’re the only calm part. Like the first time we kissed. When I wasn’t sure if I should. When I was terrified and nervous and falling all at once. But your kiss calmed me down. It reassured me that I was in the right place, at the right time— with the right person”.

Your lips part, your eyes fill with water. He kisses you again. You sigh into him, eyes closing gently. But there’s one balm left— Velvet Honey, wrapped in a light yellow tube.

The moment you both touch lips, Hyunjin’s whole face softens. He tugs you into his lap like you’re delicate, like you’d break at any time. Like he has all the time in the world to taste you.

"This one’s cozy” he whispers, “Like kissing when we’re wrapped in blankets and half asleep. Like the tenderness between dreaming and waking. A sweet, lazy, forever kind of love.”

He leans his forehead against yours to rest but you take his lips on your— soft and unflavored this time.

“Which one was your favorite?”, you whisper. 

He laughs against your skin, “None of them”.

 You blink, “What?” 

“They were all missing one thing”, he tilts your chin up, “You. Just you. No flavor, no gloss. Just your taste”.

And when he kisses you again— bare lips on bare lips— you finally understand what he meant. 

After the last kiss, Hyunjin doesn’t pull away. He stays close, as his thumb runs absently across your cheekbone, like he’s memorizing you all over again.

Then he murmurs, almost too low to hear, “You figured it out yet, baby?”

Your brows furrow, “Figured what out?”

He shifts just enough to look at you fully. “They weren’t just birthday gifts”, he says. “They were kind of my way of saying I missed you”.

You tilt your head lightly.

“I didn’t know how to say it in a way that could hold all the weight of what I felt inside”, he continues, eyes dropping for a second. “You know how tour stuff always ends up swallowing me whole. But after spending the whole day smiling for cameras and talking in interviews, every night I’d be in a hotel room thinking about you. And the kisses and cuddles I wasn’t getting”

You glance down at the lip balms again:

Peach Mochi: for the sleepy mornings.

Lavender Milk: for when you cry and he holds you.

Strawberry Stardust:  for the reckless moments.

Black Cherry: for the ache of distance.

Vanilla Frosting: for being each other’s safe place.

Velvet Honey: for the homecoming.

Your throat tightens with a sudden wave of emotion. “They’re all my favorite”, you say, “Because they’re all about us”.

You lean forward and kiss him again. But not for a taste test, not for fun, just because you have to. Because the kind of love you share builds up in your chest until it spills out.

He kisses you back with a hum and pulls you, guiding you gently until you’re curled up against him on the couch with your legs tangled and your cheek resting over his heart.

And in that silence, you feel it— the truth of all the little things he couldn’t say but showed. “I missed you too”, you whisper, fingers gently tracing circles against his waistline, “So much”. 

He presses his lips to the crown of your head.“Then let me stay like this. As long as you’ll let me. I don’t need anything else. Just home… just you”.

You hum against his chest, barely awake now, the soft sweetness of his lips still lingering on yours. You fall asleep like that, wrapped in the quiet kind of love— the one that doesn’t need big gestures or loud words, just a few flavored kisses and the boy who, by coming home from tour, brought your sense of home back to you.

Comment in any post if you want to be added to the taglist :)

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn, @jehhskz, @mbioooo0000, @nightmarenyxx, @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere

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[mapsthewanderer]

Maps headcanons

The LADS boys

- Waking you up edition

🩵 Zayne

There’s a mug by the bed. Your blanket’s been adjusted. His fingers trail along your hip—clinical, but slow.

“Time to wake up. Unless you want me to take your temperature a different way.”

🧡 Caleb

You wake up to the smell of coffee and the weight of his body on top of yours, warm and solid and grinning way too much for this hour.

“Morning, sunshine. Thought I’d see how many kisses it takes to get those pretty eyes open.”

❤️ Sylus

You open your eyes to find him shirtless at the edge of the bed, rolling a shoulder, eyes glowing faintly.

“Sleep well, kitten? Because I didn’t. Not with the sounds you made.”

🩷 Xavier

You blink and he’s crouched beside the bed, head tilted, one hand resting on the sheets by your face.

“Your breathing changed. I knew you were close.”

Beat.

“I waited.”

💜 Rafayel

You’re half on top of him, and he’s already awake, sketching lazily with his finger on your bare back.

“I could let you sleep… but where’s the beauty in restraint?”

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Happy Saturday, peepz! I’m almost done proofreading the next chapter of my non-MC series with the booois (yes, chaos incoming). Also got a lil Caleb headcanon simmering in the ol’ brain stew. And hiiii to all the new followers—thank you for being here. I’m quietly vibing in the corner, but very, very grateful. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

A Curse [Chapter 9: Hollywood]

A/N: We're in the home stretch now, besties! Only 3 chapters left until the curse is lifted 🪄

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, Maroon 5, illness/death, angst, ice cream, Sunshine makes her red carpet debut! 😍

Word count: 6.5k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

Time machine, walls like glass, the dial turned back to 2009. It’s Viserys’ funeral, and no one can even pretend they’re sad. They stopped being sad years ago, and only relief is left. No more long nocturnal hours of the deathwatch, no more hushed sympathetic updates from the hospice nurses, no more unrecognizable white-haired organic matter contorted in his hospital bed. The chains are broken and they are free, all except one of them, the nineteen-year-old son who believes—without proof, without logic—that the curse is not lifted but only transferred, living on in him like an echo down a long hall.

It’s 2005, and Viserys has turned mean: paranoid, volatile, lashing out with fury at his increasing limitations as his brain is hollowed out like a Halloween pumpkin, like a cored apple. He roars and he throws things. He forgets his family are not torturers. Alicent could shut him away somewhere, but she doesn’t, the guilt would eat her alive; and so while nurses are present at the Malibu mansion around the clock, the Targaryens are not spared his wrath. One night Viserys breaks a window and wields a shard of glass like a dagger, and when the nurses flee screaming, Aemond stops Alicent from entering the room and goes in himself to clean up the mess. Someone has to.

It’s 1999, and after years of anomalies that nobody knew were symptoms—mood swings, muscle weakness, difficulty making decisions, balance problems, memory lapses—Viserys has been diagnosed with a disease that must have been lurking in his forebearers for generations, unbeknownst to them without the longevity or genetic tests of modern medicine. And like so many absent husbands and fathers who experience a revelation of their impending doom, he is determined to make up for lost time. He bakes with Alicent in the kitchen. He walks with Helaena in the garden. He stops condemning nine-year-old Aegon for long hours spent with his favorite toy, a charcoal gray Nintendo 64, first edition; the Fire Orange console won’t be released until the following year, part of the Funtastic Colors series. And now that it’s too late, Viserys’ children learn to love him.

Viserys takes Aegon’s hand and asks the boy to show him how to play Nintendo 64, here at the very start like a mirage, already beginning to disintegrate around the edges.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Thursday, August 7th. You don’t have an appointment to see Aegon, but you’re here in Elysian Park anyway. You park on the curb and sweep out into the gilded morning glow, already mid-80s and rising, wrinkled goldenrod-yellow sundress that you left in the drier too long, flip-flops, bare-faced. You barely slept and ran out the door as soon as you clawed your way out of brief, fitful dreams, autumn leaves and endless corridors through apple orchards, distant stars and deep water.

At his desk, Brandon is on the phone and making notes with his flower pen. He gives you a smile; you can only manage a quick wave. You continue into Aegon’s office, where he is engrossed in Mario’s expedition into an ice world where snow falls in unhurried, harmless white spheres. The music is pleasant, but the pools of frozen water are so cold they burn. Mario is making his way towards a block of ice in which a star has been hidden, accessible by navigation through narrow tunnels. Aegon, his green Nike Killshots propped up on his cluttered desk as usual, is surprised but not disappointed to see you.

“Hey, sunshine!” he says, still clicking the buttons on his transluscent orange controller, still swiveling the joystick. “What are you doing here so—?”

“Your dad died of Huntington’s disease.”

He freezes, and on the television screen, so does Mario; a malevolent snowman entity appears and hurls snowballs at the abandoned avatar until he is dead. You wait for Aegon to say something—no, that’s not true, no, you’re wrong, no, that would be a death sentence—but he only sits there, jaw fallen open, eyes filling up his face…and then he jolts to his feet and goes for the door.

You whirl around to watch him leave. “Aegon…?”

He stops in the doorway to the lobby and calls out: “Brando, you’re done for the day. Bye.”

“Oh for cute!” Brandon replies. “Let me just send an email to that moving company and then—”

“No, now. You’re done right now.”

Brandon sounds perplexed. “Okay, literally right now, you got it.” You can hear him gathering up his things, the jangling of car keys, the snapping shut of a laptop, and you remember all the hours you’ve spent gazing into a small rectangular blue-light screen as you combed through Aegon’s filmography, inspired potential that came to a collision of a stop in his mid-twenties. From the threshold, as he waits for Brandon to leave, Aegon watches you with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes thrashing with dark choppy waves like the riptides of the Pacific. You stare back thunderstruck, and only now do you realize how desperately you were hoping you were mistaken.

Out in the lobby, the front door of the half-duplex opens and closes, and now you and Aegon are alone. He walks back to his desk—loose papers, manila folders, framed photographs, that ever-present bowl of Honeycrisp apples—and drops into his chair, drags his fingers through his slicked-back hair, gazes vacantly at the mint green wall and sighs deeply.

“Who told you?” he asks, like hardly anyone knows, like the few who do wouldn’t have said anything.

“Nobody,” you say, startled. “I just kept guessing different diseases, and I didn’t think it was cancer, and…and…Aegon, Huntington’s is genetic.”

He looks up at you. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“Have you been tested? Because if one of your parents had it then you have a fifty percent chance of inheriting the gene.”

“No, I haven’t been tested.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I just haven’t, okay?”

“Have your siblings?”

“Yeah, and they’re all negative. But I didn’t take the test.”

“I think you should take the test, Aegon.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you should know!” you burst out, and your hands are trembling like his do sometimes, dire adrenaline in your bloodstream and your voice frayed like someone has taken a razor blade to it. “Because if you’re negative then you’ll be relieved, and if you’re positive then you can…you can plan for it, you know? And there are treatments that can help manage the symptoms! I looked it up, I spent like four hours last night on Wikipedia—”

“But no one can stop it,” Aegon says. “They can’t even slow it down.”

“You think you have the gene,” you realize, horrified. “You forget things. Your hands shake. And that’s why you’re leaving Los Angeles and avoiding your family, and that’s why you’re marrying Becca—”

“Stay the fuck out of my head,” Aegon says, the first time he’s ever spat his venom at you, and his knuckles are unbruised and yet it feels like he’s hit you, a crack in a wall, bones that split and arteries that hemorrhage.

“Aegon, you can’t run away like that when you don’t even know for sure if you’re sick!”

“It’s actually really common for people in my situation to not want to take a test.”

You speak without any awareness of what you’re going to say. “I would take care of you.”

“You think I want to hear that?!” Aegon shouts. “You think I want to imagine you being there when I lose the ability to walk, and speak, and feed myself, and remember who the fuck I am?”

“I would do it,” you insist. “You believed in me. You helped me. I would help you.”

He shakes his head and glares at you, his eyes going slick and glassy. “You have no idea what you’re offering.”

“Your family has money, they can afford the best doctors and nurses. You wouldn’t be a burden on any of us, but we’d still get to be with you—”

“I saw what my dad dying did to my mom,” Aegon says bitterly, hatefully. “First he was himself, mostly. And then he was depressed, and then he was angry, and then he became a monster. He’s the reason my mother still has nightmares. He’s the reason Aemond lost his eye. You don’t do that to people you care about. You don’t inflict that on someone you love.”

“But what if you move to Texas and you’re fine, and you don’t have Huntington’s, and you don’t die and nothing terrible happens to you?!”

“Then it will be a relief,” Aegon says softly. “And I can always come back.”

“What about me?” you ask, your voice splintering. “If you’re sick, you’re just never going to see me again?”

Aegon smiles faintly, sad, resigned. “I would rather you remember me the way I am now.”

“Afraid? Avoidant? In denial?”

“Just get out,” he snaps, rubbing his face with his palms, wincing like he’s in pain.

“Aegon—”

“No, you don’t know what it’s like to watch someone die of this!” he roars, slamming his fist on the desk. Documents rustle; photographs fall over. “And if I don’t want a diagnosis, if I don’t want to live staring down the barrel of a gun, then that’s my fucking right and you don’t get to say I’m a coward for it!”

“You’re already living like you know you’re dying,” you moan, you plead. There are tears flowing down your cheeks and turning to salt on your lips; your face is hot with blood. “You don’t have anything to lose.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“But you’re making all these choices for the wrong reasons, and you deserve to know the truth, and if you take a test then you can make an informed decision about what you want your life to look like—”

“I would never pick you,” Aegon says, flat, direct, gutting. “So get that out of your head, because it’s not happening.”

You gaze at him helplessly. “Then what are we doing?”

He shrugs, like this is an idiotic question. “I’m your agent. I’m helping you get jobs.”

“That’s not what this is!” you sob. “It’s always been more than that, it’s been more than that from the very first day! Why did you sign me when no one else would? Why were you feeding me boneless spare ribs off your fork? Why did you throw me that apple?!”

Aegon is incredulous. “Why did I fuck you in this office, why did I fly to Minnesota to have dinner with your awful parents? Because I wanted to. Because I really like you, and I think I’ve been honest about that. But that doesn’t mean it’s serious.”

Never serious, you remember miserably. That’s how Aegon had described his affairs. “Does Becca know you could have Huntington’s?”

“No,” Aegon says. “But if she did, it wouldn’t change anything. She would still want to get married.”

“She would want to take care of you.”

“Yes, exactly. She would be upset for a while, yeah, but she…she needs someone to need her. Her parents were doctors, and they weren’t abusive or anything but they were gone all the time, and the house was like a museum, and now she’s…I don’t know, I guess she’s obsessed with creating warmth, and for Becca warmth means homemade bread and bento boxes and dogs and getting my suits tailored for me, and me being her full-time project…I think a part of her would enjoy that. Having me to herself, finally being the center of my universe. And when I get really bad, when I’m…” Aegon swallows noisily. “When I’m dead, she can move on. She can find someone else to marry and she can have kids, and she’ll always have that trophy on her shelf: I was a Targaryen, I was the perfect long-suffering wife. And Aegon loved me more than any of the others.”

More than me, you think. And then a ricochet of Aegon’s words: I would never pick you. “She’s not mad at you? Because of what we’ve done?”

Aegon chuckles uneasily. “I mean, I’m sure she’s not thrilled about you still being around. She’s been a little temperamental, she’s been suspicious. Right before we left for Minnesota, I woke up from a nap and she was swabbing my cheek for an STD test, can you believe that? But she knows this is temporary.”

What had Becca said the day she pushed you just outside this office? And if he was going to leave me, he has better options than you. You nod like any of this makes sense.

“Can we just be us again?” Aegon asks, and now he’s calm, gentle, exhausted. “We have a month left together. I don’t want to waste it.”

“Okay,” you say numbly.

“Don’t forget about the music video premiere tomorrow night. And I haven’t heard anything from the vampire movie people yet.” Then he adds: “That doesn’t mean you didn’t get it.”

“But it’s not a good sign.”

Aegon tries to soften the blow. “They might just be thinking it over. They might still be scheduling the callback for the other actress.”

You—unsteady, dazed, despondent—stare down at the scuffed wood floor and try in vain to smooth the wrinkles out of your sundress. “Sounds like we’ll both be leaving Los Angeles soon,” you tell Aegon; and then you walk until the walls disappear and only the city is left, sun glare, humming air conditioners, dogs barking, children laughing, engines revving, the immense metallic shadow of Downtown on the horizon.

At home in your apartment building, just as you are about to scan your keycard to unlock the front door, you hear Baela and Jace talking inside. The television is on and the microwave is purring—maybe Jace is making one of his favorite snacks, corn dogs or pizza rolls—and their voices are just barely distinguishable.

“What am I supposed to say to her?” Baela asks, sounding distressed. “That I’m officially too rich and famous to need a roommate? I can’t just kick her out. It would break her heart. She’s so sweet, and I know she’s trying really hard but it’s just…well…”

“No, I get it,” Jace replies. “She’s chill.”

“It sounds like her parents are going to make her move home soon anyway, unless she lands a big part, and…you know…I don’t really see that happening.”

“Yeah.” The microwave beeps and someone pops open the door to retrieve the contents.

“So just please don’t say anything, okay? And when she’s gone in a few months we’ll start looking at apartments in Venice or Santa Monica…”

You put your back to the hallway wall and wait long enough that they won’t think you’ve overheard anything, listening to the sounds of cars whooshing by outside, people coming and going from the places where they belong in the world, and you wonder what that feels like.

~~~~~~~~~~

You stay up too late watching YouTube videos of people with Huntington’s disease, and so the next morning at Cold Stone Creamery you are in a haze, dull throbbing headache, eyes bloodshot from crying, and the frat bro you’re making a Gotta Have It-sized Cookie Mintster for probably thinks you’re high but it’s the opposite: you’ve never felt lower, you’ve never been adrift like this, and you don’t know what to do next. You can’t unknot the threads fate has tied to Aegon. You can’t imagine a life for yourself back home. You can’t remember why you ever thought you’d be able to build something here in the City of Angels, glittering and golden and ever-rushing towards perfection, those who fall behind drug under the wheels.

“Can I get some gummy bears on that?” the frat boy is saying, but your gaze catches on someone behind him. The little metal bells on the glass door jingle and Aegon scrolls inside, khaki cargo shorts and a wrinkled short-sleeve white Oxford thrown over a pink tank top, and he’s traded in his Nikes for flip-flops, and his hair is gelled back from his face so you can see him clearly, vividly, and he leans against the window with daylight flooding in all around him and grins at you.

Why…?

“Can I please get some gummy bears?” the frat boy asks again.

Your manager Josh is blending up a strawberry banana smoothie and glowering at you. “Yo, what is wrong with you today?!”

But you don’t care what he’s saying, because Aegon pulls his black aviator sunglasses out of the pocket of his cargo shorts and slides them on and beams at you, and you hear the words as if he’s spoken them aloud: You are so bright, sunshine.

“I got the part?” you say from behind the counter.

Aegon nods. “You got the part.”

You scream and sprint to him, and when you throw your arms around Aegon he catches you, laughing and warm, and right now his hands are perfectly fine, steady and strong as they cradle the small of your back, the arc of your neck.

“Where the hell are you going?” Josh snaps from the blender. The frat boy, still waiting for his Cookie Mintster, is glaring at you impatiently. “I didn’t say you could take your break yet!”

“Hey,” Aegon says, taking a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet and waving it around so Josh can see before dunking it in the tip jar. “She’s quitting. Call someone else.” And then he pulls you, grinning and exhilarated, out of the Cold Stone Creamery and into the August air, moving swiftly beneath a cerulean sky full of cumulus clouds, 90-degrees and diesel fumes.

“Aegon, I can’t quit yet, I still have to pay my rent—”

“I’ll pay your rent,” Aegon says. He stops when you are under the shade of a palm tree and stands there with you in the oasis. His Sebring is parked illegally in a fire lane; it is adorned with a new malady, a massive dent in the bumper. “You’re going to have costume fittings and table-reads, and you have to learn the script, and you’ll have appointments with hair and makeup, and you’ll have a personal trainer, and promo obligations…you won’t have time to work.”

“You didn’t force them to hire me, did you?” you ask, the effervescent high dissolving away. “You didn’t threaten to blacklist them with your whole family or anything, right? Because I don’t want this if it’s not real.”

“What?” Aegon says, mystified. “No. No, I swear, I wouldn’t do that. And I don’t think it would have worked even if I’d tried. First billing is a huge deal. Not even Taylor Swift has managed to buy herself a starring role in a movie yet. They liked you. They wanted you.”

The hope quivers in your voice. “I’m going to be an actress?”

Aegon smiles. “You already are one.” He takes off your red apron and your grey hat and stuffs both in a nearby trashcan. “Are you parked around here?”

You point to your Honda Accord, 2003, Desert Mist Metallic paint that gleams under the sun. “I’m just across the street.”

“You aren’t bringing Jace to the Maroon 5 thing tonight, right? Because it’s in your best interests to appear unattached.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “Unattached?”

“Yeah. Being ostensibly single makes you confident and alluring and mysterious. Dragging along your mop-haired boyfriend makes you look like a high school kid at prom.”

“And how does dragging along my sulky, disillusioned Targaryen agent make me look?”

“Like a star,” Aegon replies simply.

“I’m not bringing Jace. Or anyone else besides you.”

“Great.”

“Can we drive to the premiere together?” You don’t want to be away from Aegon; you are a little petrified of the fanfare that awaits you in Downtown tonight. You have no idea what to expect.

“Yeah,” Aegon says, outwardly casual, unmistakably pleased. “I have a driver booked. We’ll swing by your apartment in the limousine around 7 p.m.”

“Why aren’t we taking the Sebring?”

“Because people don’t drive themselves to premieres, sunshine,” he says, like he’s explaining to a child an obvious and fundamental truth: the sky is blue, the Earth is round. Then he gestures to his white convertible and its sizeable new dent. “And also I keep running into things and I don’t want you in the car when I’m driving.”

Because his hands shake? Because his reflexes are slowing until they inevitably stop? “Maybe you’re just stressed because of the wedding,” you say softly.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Or it’s psychosomatic. You expect to see symptoms, so you do. But really you’re fine.”

Aegon sighs as wind blows eastward from the Pacific Ocean. He wants to change the subject. You can’t stop yourself from talking. “It’s possible.”

“Maybe whatever’s wrong with you isn’t Huntington’s. Maybe it’s something else, like a vitamin deficiency or a thyroid disorder or lupus or fibromyalgia, or diabetes from all the super unhealthy food you eat. Maybe it’s something a doctor can fix.”

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Aegon says; and he kisses your cheek and climbs into his Sebring and speeds off towards the interchange of the 110.

~~~~~~~~~~

You told your parents you needed a dress for Clara’s bachelorette party so they wouldn’t yell at you when they saw the charge on the credit card. You will have to devise a new strategy for future purchases; you are running out of wedding-related excuses. The gown is electric yellow and less formal than the one you wore to the charity gala, sufficiently frivolous for a music video premiere, a V-neck and a high-low hemline. Your hair is down and your eyeshadow warm and smokey: Gilded Ganache and Semi-Sweet by Too Faced, Night Star by NARS. You drench yourself with sugary Shimmer Mist from Bath and Body Works, then realize that was probably a stupid idea. But there’s no time to try to scrub it off; Aegon has texted you that he’s five minutes away.

You click out into the kitchen in the yellow heels you found at T.J. Maxx. Jace is sprawled on the couch and bobbing his head as he sings along to a Charli XCX song pulsing out of his iPhone:

“You wanna guess the color of my underwear,

You wanna know what I got goin’ on down there…”

Baela, who had been getting a can of La Croix from the refrigerator, turns and is startled when she sees you. “You’re glittering. And that looks like a prom dress.”

You scrutinize yourself, suddenly self-conscious. “Is it bad?”

“No!” Baela cries, overcorrecting, not wanting to hurt your feelings. “No, it’s so cute. Jace, isn’t it so cute?”

“Totally,” he says from the couch, not looking at you.

“No contrast, huh?” Baela muses, glancing at your shoes and clutch purse.

“Doesn’t yellow go with yellow…?”

“Of course it does.” She beams, too broadly. “Have fun tonight! Walk really slowly on the red carpet. It will feel ridiculous, but that’s how they get good photos. And cycle through four or five different poses. Count to ten in your head and then switch to the next one. And don’t smile too much! You’ll look creepy and your cheeks will get tired and go numb and you’ll start twitching. Do a small smile and then laugh a lot when the interviewers make their dumbass jokes. It’s good television and they’ll like you and give you more airtime.”

You try to commit this to memory. “Okay.”

“Here.” She gifts you an ice-cold can of La Croix, coconut flavored. “Drink this on the ride over, then make sure you have a lot of water at the premiere. Stay hydrated. Keeps you peppy and glowing.”

“Okay,” you say again, a good little foot soldier.

Baela gives you a quick hug goodbye; but you catch the way she frowns at your carefree hair, the deep but not-so-revealing V of your neckline. Maybe she’ll reconsider the implants thing, Baela’s face reads. You can feel cold beads of sweat bleeding from your ribs, your spine. Then you are out the door, descending in the elevator, trotting onto the sidewalk to find the limo already waiting there, black and sleek under a sky that is slowly sickening from midday blue to dusk embers. The windows are tinted so dark you can’t see anything from outside.

“Hey, sunshine,” Aegon says as you slide into the back where he is waiting in the suit he wears to auditions and film shoots and, apparently, premieres: skinny black tie, slightly rumpled and untucked white shirt. He sees the La Croix. “Don’t you not like that?”

“My roommate gave it to me.” You set the can, wet with condensation, in a cupholder. Aegon hands you an iced vanilla latte to replace it. And as you buckle your seatbelt and the limo driver coasts east to hook into the 110 and then heads dead north towards Downtown, Aegon pulls a tiny spiral notebook out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and reads off names to you: people who were involved in the production of the music video you filmed over a month ago, people to praise, people to thank. You’re trying to listen to him, but your thoughts are fuzzy and your heart is racing.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon asks, and you return to him and smirk guiltily.

“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“Why? You’re not nervous when you’re acting.”

“Because I’ve acted a million times, but I’ve never done a red carpet before. Not even a mini one like this. What if they ask me something I’m not expecting and I freeze up? What if I accidentally offend someone? I’m always saying things that make people think I’m stupid.”

Aegon laughs lazily, peering through the window as the freeway takes you through Vermont Vista, Broadway-Manchester, Florence, blurs of houses and palm trees and graffitied concrete barriers. “Yeah, you are always saying ridiculous things. But that’s who you are, and it’s charming.”

“You think it’s charming.”

Aegon smiles at you. “I do.”

You stir your latte so the ice cubes clink together and you make a jittery little sound, half-sigh, half-whimper. Aegon puts a palm on your bare thigh, pushing the hem of your dress just above your knee; his hand is warm, and gentle, and heavy enough to ground you.

“You’re shaking,” he says, alarmed.

“Yeah,” you admit. “I’m fine. I think it’ll stop once we get there.”

Aegon lifts his hand away—no! you think, pathetically—and then unbuckles his seatbelt and crawls over to the window just behind the driver’s seat, which is all the way down. The limo driver is in his fifties, salt-and-pepper hair and a full beard, classic rock radio station. The opening notes of Dani California pump out of the speakers, the bass reverberating through the leather seats. “Hey,” Aegon says to the driver, thumping his fist on the window slot. “Roll that up.”

“Yes sir,” the driver assents immediately.

“Don’t park or unlock the doors until I tell you to.”

“Yes sir.”

The dark opaque window closes, the driver disappears, and Aegon comes back to you. He takes your half-finished latte out of your hand and places it safely in a cupholder.

You’re smiling as you ask: “What are you going to—?”

He reaches beneath your dress—tulle ruffles the color of unclouded daylight, or lemons, or butter, or sunflowers—and his fingertips know where to go, their corporeal memory is perfect, and they apply divine spiraling pressure over your panties, silk to leave no lines beneath your dress; that’s a trick Baela taught you. You gasp and clutch for the back of the seat, sweated skin on black leather, your spine arching, your blood cascading south as the freeway runs northbound.

“Are you nervous now?” Aegon whispers; and his words are taunting but his voice is hushed, and he’s in front of you, leaning in so close your lungs are filled with him, Juicy Fruit and sunlight and the heat and the city, and his other hand turns your face away from him so he won’t ruin your makeup. Instead of your lips, his mouth finds your throat and collarbones, and he kisses you there as his fingertips press down more forcefully beneath your dress, so insistent, so hungry, and you are blinded by the realization of how much you have craved him, how desperately you miss him each time you’re apart, and only being with him feels like this, you don’t belong anywhere else, and your chances to touch him are vanishing like sandcastles turned to ruins by the surf.

He’s getting married in a month.

But he’s here now, and you want him.

He’s choosing Becca.

But his hands are choosing you, and his lips, and the outline of his hardness that you can feel when he leans against your thigh, nudging your legs further apart, and surely even through the silk he can feel how wet you are.

“You shouldn’t have taken your seatbelt off,” you say breathlessly. “That’s not safe.”

Aegon laughs as if this is a ludicrous concern, and maybe he doesn’t think that dying in a car accident of a fractured skull or an aortic dissection would be the worst thing in the world. “Don’t worry about me.” He breezes the fingers of his left hand through your hair, nuzzling you, inhaling you, saccharine sweetness and young frenetic nerves, endorphins pouring from your bloodstream.

He’s good, he’s very good; but for you it can take a while, and how far is the limo from the premiere venue? “I’m not going to be able to finish—”

“Yeah you are,” Aegon says, drawing back to look at you, his eyes locked with yours; and you moan as his fingers move the strip of silk aside and sink into you, and you are filled with him as his palm keeps up the euphoric friction, and then it collides with you—knuckles, gravity, riptides, fate—and it takes everything left in you, worn wrung-out scraps, not to cry out, because you’re not alone now, and you’ve never truly been alone with him when this happens, and you know you never will be. The sweetness and the bitterness are coiled up together like threads of fabric, like the lines of a family tree.

You are still panting as Aegon sweeps his left thumbprint just beneath your eyes, clearing away the eyeliner and mascara that has begun to run as your eyes water.

“Don’t cry, sunshine,” he murmurs, concerned.

You chuckle shakily. “I’m sorry. You know I get like this.” When it’s good. When it’s with you.

“Are you still nervous?”

“No,” you answer truthfully.

“You’re going to do great.”

“What should I say?”

“Whatever you want,” Aegon tells you. “Be yourself. Be real.” Then he kisses you on your lips only once: feather-light, immaterial enough to not mar you. “Oh, we have to clean up,” he realizes, panicked, and he hasn’t thought this through.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

You open the can of coconut La Croix that Baela gifted you and soak a handful of napkins that Aegon gets from the driver. You erase the evidence between your legs as best you can; Aegon cleans his hands and gives himself a generous squeeze of hand sanitizer from a tiny travel bottle in your clutch. Then he uses the corner of a napkin to dab away stray flecks of mascara on your cheeks. You check your face in the mirror of your makeup compact: dewy, but acceptable. Natural. Lived-in. Aegon rearranges a few wayward strands of your hair. You slurp down the rest of your vanilla latte. The limo is rolling to halt. You reach for the door handle.

“No,” Aegon says, stopping you. And he gets out first and then waits for you, hand open, until you emerge from the limousine and into a new world: flashbulbs, video cameras, microphones, assistants dressed in black, screaming Maroon 5 fans. Aegon fluffs the train of your electric yellow gown and then leads you into the chaos.

The music video premiere is being held at the historic Broadway Theater. The red carpet rolled out for the occasion, in a nod to the name of the band, is not a bright bloody red but a deep maroon. People are shouting and waving at you, and you have no idea what’s going on; and yet in your ribcage your heartbeat is slow and measured and strong. Aegon has a hand on the small of your back, and you think: I want it to be like this all the time. I want it to be like this forever.

Now a young man in a teal suit is rushing up to you and Aegon has disappeared to the sidelines, and the man is telling you that he is from E! News, and although he says his name you immediately forget it. You don’t panic; you smile softly and try to listen through the noise of the crowd. Now Maroon 5 has arrived and is posing for photographs as the fans screech and beg for autographs.

“So how’s your day going?” the man from E! News asks, a microphone held to your lips.

“It’s been so exciting, this morning I got to quit my job!”

The man laughs hysterically. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working at an ice cream place for months, but not anymore!”

“And do you have a passion for ice cream?”

“Not really, I just had to pay rent, you know?”

“Girl, do I ever!” the man says, still laughing. “What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?”

You smile sheepishly. “Vanilla.”

“Oh, so you’re a vanilla girl, huh?”

“I am, I really am, and I know the joke. But vanilla can be great! It’s a classic, and it’s sweet and uncomplicated, and it’s not trying to be anything it’s not. It’s pure. It’s innocent.”

“Oh my God, that was poetry! I might have to give vanilla another shot. You’ve convinced me.”

“Cool,” you say. Aegon is watching you from behind the video camera that you’ve just noticed; he is nodding, he gives you a little thumbs-up.

The man from E! News asks next: “So, ice cream expert, if I was an ice cream flavor, which one would I be?”

You ponder this. “Well someone once told me that interesting adults like strawberry, and you seem really interesting, so I’d say you’re strawberry ice cream.”

“Adorable,” the man sighs, marveling at you. “What are you going to be up to now that you aren’t working at the ice cream shop anymore?”

“Well according to my agent—and I have the best agent in the world, he’s absolute magic—I just got my first starring role in a movie.” The E! News man shrieks in excitement. “And I can’t really tell you anything more about it just yet, because I don’t know what I’m allowed to say publicly, but I’m so so so excited and so grateful, and Los Angeles is an incredible place. I’m in heaven and I’m thrilled to be here with you tonight.”

Another E! News correspondent, a woman in a salmon-colored dress, dashes in to join the conversation. She has blindingly white veneers and so much Botox she can’t move her forehead. “Could you tell us what it was like working on this music video?”

“It was an amazing experience,” you say; and in this moment you believe that, and Dan doesn’t exist, and neither does the bathtub scene that almost happened, and neither does the terror that threatened to consume you before Aegon smothered the flames. Now, Aegon is watching closely as Dan navigates the red carpet. They make split-second eye contact, Aegon glares fiercely, Dan keeps a wide swath of space between you and him as if you are radioactive, a silent poison that cooks malignancies into blood and bones. “We filmed in this gorgeous mansion in Beverly Hills, and everyone involved in the production was so imaginative and professional. I got to wear outfits designed by Schiaparelli and Rodarte, oh, and Phoebe Philo, and the actor playing my awful ex-boyfriend was fantastic, and there were these weird exotic cats that kept trying to bite me…”

You keep talking and interviewers keep descending, appearing out of nowhere, and then you are posing on the red carpet—you even take a few awkward photos with Maroon 5, none of whom remember who you are—and to your surprise, several fans even ask you for an autograph. Without thinking, you add a tiny sun after you sign your name each time.

“There, a little bit of sunshine,” you say to a preteen girl who beams up at you. “Not that you need it, look how brightly you’re shining!”

As you are about to enter the theater, you glance back to see where Aegon has gone. An interviewer has entrapped him, although Aegon clearly resents being caught on camera. He’s a good sport though; he forces a smile and answers the questions. He’s being asked about you.

Aegon says: “She has a great attitude about work, and about life in general. She’s very talented. And obviously she’s beautiful, so…yeah. I feel really lucky to have found her. She’s usually the best part of my day.”

“And are we going to see you in any upcoming films?” the woman from Entertainment Tonight asks flirtatiously. “We all know you have the chops!”

Aegon throws his head back and cackles. “No. You wish. Okay, thank you very much for your time, I’ll talk to you afterwards.”

“Thank you, Aegon!” the interviewer calls out, waving, and you think: He really could have been a star if he never left acting.

You and Aegon sit together at the screening, and he keeps feeding you pieces of popcorn—your lips brushing his fingertips, salt stinging on your tongue—and you have to resist the urge, no, the gravity, the effortless instinct to rest your head on his shoulder. Maroon 5 do a panel after the music video and take questions from the audience. They manage a few comprehensible responses.

Afterwards, Aegon doesn’t take you straight home to Harbor Gateway. He doesn’t take you to his office in Elysian Park either. Instead, he tells the limo driver to follow the 101 northwest to Hollywood, and he drags you out into the cool indigo night—veined with florescence and neon—and onto the intersection of Vine Street and Sunset Boulevard at the genesis of the Walk of Fame, a trail of 2,800 stars carved into the sidewalk, into eternity.

Aegon stands on a star of this earthbound constellation and says: “You’re going to have one of these someday.”

And here under the aisle of a streetlight with Aegon smiling like that, kind and radiant, you could almost believe him.

[darkpuppysuit]

💜The Master List💜

Come with Y/n on this hilarious fun filled adventure after one stormy night brings in seven of the most handsome and quite caring hybrids she's ever met to her generational family ranch.

(Angst, Fluff, Crack, Smut, Past Abuse, Family bonds/issues, plus size reader, hybrid BTS) Currently put on hold for a little while.

Coming Soon🐺

Y/n has been alone for most of her life or at least that's what she thought. After coming back to her hometown for an open job at the local clinic just a few days after graduating college, she soon finds herself in the middle of all things supernatural.

Will she take it in stride or will she turn tail and run away like she has before?

Stay tuned to find out....

Happiness Hybrid!BTS au

Kim Namjoon🐨

More to come....

Kim Seokjin🐹

Coming Soon....

Min Yoongi🐈‍⬛

https://www.tumblr.com/darkpuppysuit/774865663625969664/sunshine-and-rain?source=share

More to come....

Jung Hoseok🐿️

Coming Soon....

Park Jimin🐣

Coming Soon....

Kim Taehyung��

More to Come....

Jeon Jungkook🐰

Coming Soon....

I also take requests! So if any of the girls and the gays have anything you'd like me to write or anything you just let me know by sending me a message or doing a little ask! I'll be more than happy to put my best foot forward to bring your ideas (no matter how small) to life to the best of my abilities!

Also excuse the chunky, clunky master list I've never made one before and I'm really trying to make it look decently (okay) pretty...

[dawnbreakersgaze]

“The man who lives in darkness is fast to delight in the smallest rays of sunshine, while the man who lives in light will quickly lament a moment of shade. Let the darkness unfetter you and teach you to savor the good. Let the shadow remind you just how bright a single beam of moonlight is.”

I'm back with another small installation of the Dawnbreaker Dark Edits because all three of these poses were making me Feel Things™ but LoRDT that first one those handssssss 😩💜 Anyway I hope everyone is doing okay and I love you all!

[wickedviago]

OTP Vibes Game

I was tagged by the lovely @fenrelmercar (I had my eyes on this for many days, so you've granted my wish!)💜

Rules: Post some pictures of your OTP and their vibes, some info, and a song that fits their vibe. That's it. Edit as you please.

For Aurora x Viago de Riva - ViaRora

Tropes: Mutual pining, friends to lovers, right person wrong time, mentor/protégé, sunshine/grumpy, second chances

Songs:

Noah Kahan - Forever (So when I hold her close/I might loosen my grip, but I won't ever let her go)

Amber Run - I Found (And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be/Right in front of me, talk some sense to me)

OneRepublic - All This Time (We got all this love, can't waste it on another/So I'm straight in a straight line, running back to you)

SYML - Where's My Love (But if you ran away, if you ran away, come back home/Just come home)

Bring Me The Horizon - Deathbeds (The waves will pull us under/Tides will bring me back to you)

Pictures:

Middle picture by @junebug-draws, the rest are from pinterest

Tagging my beloveds: @rooktotherescue @lotusrhys @miraabellee @circetalia @junebug-the-blind & everyone else who wants to do this adorable thing💜

[eternal-sunflowers]

💭 Steddie-ish WIP Weekend 💭

steddie-ish wip weekend part 2 because i need to get some writing done. inspiration has been a bit lacking, so motivate me with your asks :))

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP for each emoji! No limits to the amount or kind of emojis you can request.💜 feel free to obliterate my inbox

Options for this weekend (i have so much, enjoy choosing):

🎭 : Apollo's New Muse continuation (prep before the date with nancy; some fluff, some light angst; started here)

🔮 : Bring Me Back to You continuation (steve time travels to save eddie's life -- things happen; angstyyyyy; started here)

🌻 : Untitled (side fic in the Wildflowers universe; steve and el sibling focused; meant to be fluff, some light angst maybe idk; started here)

finished!! thanks for all the asks for this. working on editing now<3 ⏱️ : Untitled (steddie oneshot for microfic may, prompt: delay; mostly done but need to finish; silly fluffy; started here)

🎬 : Untitled Robin Fic (this is in the same world as this fic, but like just barely post s4, so well before that fic; robin tries to help make eddie feel better; vecna may or may not still exist; things might happen; wrote a lot but kind of abandoned it when inspiration dwindled)

Have a snippet of Untitled Robin Fic below the cut ~

Steve enlists her one day to come to Eddie’s with something to help distract the latter, to help bring him some joy.

“Literally, I do not care what you bring over at this point, Robs. He’s–” Steve sighs into the receiver, and Robin feels a pang in her chest.

“Bad day, huh?”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah.” A few silent moments pass, the static of the line scrambling her brain. “They’re all, uh, all–”

“I know.” Robin whispers, closing her eyes and thunking her head back against her headboard. Her heart aches knowing Eddie's dealing with, arguably, one of the worst set of injuries of the lot of them. It’s only been a few weeks, the most of them on mediocre paths to recovery, if not fully recovered. Yet, Eddie still is laid out in bed, thankfully his own at this point, without a clear end date to his recovery. She hates seeing him drained of his usual gusto, more reserved these days, more quiet. They hadn’t even really been close before spring break, but it still fucking hurts because now he's one of them. One of the few who really knows how fucked up this world, and others, could actually be. One of the few who feels that. 

“Robs?”

She blinks, rights herself. “Yeah, Steve?”

“I asked if you could be here soon. Say, hour or so?”

Robin looks at the clock on her desk. 1:47 PM. She gnaws at her thumbnail for a moment. “Yeah, hour. You got food?”

“Plenty. Joyce is on dinner duty tonight, so we’re set.” Steve laughs quietly. 

“Oh, thank fuck. I love you, but your cooking has been shit lately.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know–”

“Bye, dingus!” Robin slams the phone into the receiver, swinging her feet off the bed to hurriedly get dressed. She has a deadline and a plan – a plan to make one Eddie Munson smile again, dammit. 

tagstagstagstagstagsta--

@yesdangerpls @probablyin-bed @daisydayes @sunshine-daydreams0809 @sofadofax @creeper-with-a-heart-of-gold @adverbally @asexualasshat @fkinkindagauche @runninriot

[therealmofadisneyfangirl]

Here is full chapter from A03 please check it out when you have the time send the fanfic it flowers bookmarks and kudos 💐🪄💜 the fanfic is already posted since yesterday February 10th.

The Great Twin Switch

PrincessShuri16

Summary:

A Russo Family Game Night Disaster is part of a Russo family anthology that explores the chaos, humor, and heart that come with their magical, unpredictable lives. In this installment, Alex and her twin sister, Carrie, decide to switch places during family game night using an old spellbook, but their mischievous plan quickly spirals out of control. As the night progresses, the twins’ swapped identities lead to a Broadway-style performance challenge, mistaken identities, and a series of pranks that leave the Russo family in utter shock. The magical switch ultimately backfires as the spell wears off, but not before an unexpected kiss and some serious sibling bonding. Will the Russo family survive the ultimate game night disaster? Probably not. But at least it’s a family tradition.

Notes:

Enjoy reading!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Management

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Chapter 1: Magical Realm

Chapter Text

The Great Twin Switch – A Russo Family Game Night Disaster

Location: The Russos’ Apartment, Waverly Place, Manhattan, NYC

(Upstairs loft above the family’s restaurant, Waverly Sub Station | Family Game Night is on the terrace)

Act 1: Setting the Trap

The Russo family terrace was glowing under the soft buzz of New York’s skyline. Fairy lights twinkled, weaving across the railing, casting a warm but oddly surreal light on the scene. It looked like a normal family enjoying a peaceful evening together—if normal families found peace in chaos.

Alex Russo—sarcastic, rebellious, effortlessly brilliant, yet remarkably lazy—sat slouched in a lawn chair, looking like she’d just stepped out of a battle she hadn’t asked for. She was, unfortunately, trapped in the worst possible fate: Family Game Night.

“Ugh, game night. Why are we still doing this? Didn’t we prove years ago that we’re all bad at teamwork?” Alex groaned, sinking deeper into her chair, arms crossed and eyes rolling dramatically.

Her identical twin, Carrie, bounced on the edge of her chair like a ball of uncontainable energy. Her personality was the polar opposite of Alex’s—bubbly, straight-A student, Broadway-level performer, and eternal optimist. Carrie flashed a grin that could blind anyone with her enthusiasm.

“Because family bonding is important, and you should really appreciate it more,” Carrie said, her voice bright, practically radiating sunshine.

Justin, always the observant one, squinted at the twins, his brow furrowing as he crossed his arms.

“Okay. No way. Since when does Alex talk like that?” Justin asked, his suspicion rising like a red flag.

Max, the ever-so-unfazed youngest sibling, casually stuffed chips into his mouth, his eyes flicking between the two. “I dunno. Maybe she’s finally given up and accepted our family traditions. Who knows?”

The real Alex, currently disguised as Carrie, bit her lip to keep from laughing. This plan was absolutely perfect. Carrie had always been the family’s shining star, the one who everyone adored, but now it was Alex’s turn to play her role—and cause utter chaos.

As she gazed around, her eyes met Carrie’s, and they exchanged a subtle, yet identical, mischievous grin.

Act 2: The Perfect Switch – A Little Magic Never Hurts (Right?)

Flashback to earlier that night:

The twins had snuck into the wizard lair hidden behind the Waverly Sub Station’s refrigerator, away from their parents’ prying eyes. There, in the dusty corner, an old spellbook had been sitting untouched for years. It wasn’t just any book; it was an ancient Switcheroo Spell.

Carrie, her eyes twinkling with excitement, held the book up like it was a treasure. “Ooooh, this could be fun,” she said, turning the page with the kind of flair only someone like her could manage.

Alex grinned, flipping through the pages nonchalantly, finding exactly what she was looking for. “And perfectly chaotic. We’ll swap, have some fun, and then pretend we learned something. It’ll be legendary.”

They both chuckled. Magic was always the best way to mess with their family, after all.

A quick flick of their wands, a flash of golden light, and—poof!—they were each other.

Act 3: The Broadway Spectacle – Carrie’s Moment (As ‘Alex’)

Fast forward to game night: the twins were still in their swapped bodies, and it was all going according to plan—until the night’s main event: the Broadway-style performance challenge.

Jerry, ever the one to appreciate a good show, clapped his hands together with a grin plastered on his face. “Alright, alright! Time for the final round! Each team has to put on a show-stopping performance.”

Theresa, proud and ready to support any challenge that involved Alex, smiled brightly at their daughter. “And lucky for us, Alex is up next!” she cheered.

The real Alex, disguised as Carrie, nearly choked on her soda. Carrie, as Alex, just beamed with confidence.

‘Alex’ (Carrie), flipping her hair, gave the group a dramatic, over-the-top wink. “Oh, don’t worry. I got this,” she said, voice laced with all the fake bravado she could muster.

Justin, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, turned to his sister. “What’s going on? That’s not Alex. Who is this?”

Max shrugged, not even looking up from his game. “I dunno. Just roll with it. It’s gonna be weird either way.”

Meanwhile, Austin—Carrie’s actual friend from Wiz Tech, who was now posing as a random classmate—stepped up beside ‘Alex’ (Carrie), looking like he was about to break into a grin. “You sure you can pull this off?” he whispered to her.

‘Alex’ (Carrie) smirked back, barely holding back her excitement. “Austin, please. I was born for this.”

The lights dimmed. Music swelled in the background. Carrie—disguised as Alex—flipped a hand in the air and strutted onto the ‘stage’ with a grace that could fool anyone. Her tap-dance shoes clicked rhythmically against the patio floor, her movements as fluid as a seasoned performer. The crowd was silent, and then she began to sing—and not just sing. Carrie, channeling the essence of Alex’s Broadway-level performance, belted out My Way with an intensity that even she hadn’t expected.

‘Alex’ (Carrie) sang dramatically, every word resonating with the kind of confidence Alex had always carried.

“For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught!” she belted out, moving effortlessly across the space as if she were the star of a major Broadway show.

The family stared, mouths agape.

Max, who had been munching chips, stopped mid-bite. “Wait. Since when does Alex tap dance?”

Justin, whose face was slowly turning a shade of pink from both shock and confusion, gaped. “She doesn’t.”

Austin, playing along, stepped forward and dipped ‘Alex’ (Carrie) dramatically at the final note. The crowd gasped, unsure of what was happening.

Austin whispered to her, his grin wide. “Wanna really sell it?”

‘Alex’ (Carrie) smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Obviously.”

And just like that, Austin kissed her.

The family exploded.

Justin, still trying to comprehend what was going on, choked, pointing a trembling finger. “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”

Max, his jaw slack, dropped his chips. “WHOA.”

Jerry and Theresa gasped in unison, eyes wide. “ALEX?!”

Meanwhile, the real Alex—watching from the sidelines, still disguised as Carrie—was on the verge of losing it. She struggled to contain the laughter threatening to escape, while internally panicking about what had just occurred. The twins had gone way too far.

Act 4: The Spell Wears Off – The Ultimate Twist

Just as the family’s shock began to simmer, the three-hour spell timer finally ticked down to zero. The unmistakable golden flash erupted around them.

Poof.

And just like that, the twins switched back to their own bodies.

Carrie blinked, suddenly back in her own skin. She looked at Austin, eyes wide in horror. “Wait… DID I JUST KISS YOU?!”

Austin, still grinning like he had just won the lottery, adjusted his collar nonchalantly. “Yep. Sure did.”

Carrie’s face turned crimson, and she buried her face in her hands, mortified. “OH. MY. WIZARD. WORLD.”

But something unexpected happened. Despite the overwhelming embarrassment, there was a small part of Carrie that liked it—the kiss. She couldn’t help but feel a little thrilled by the chaotic mess they had made.

Alex, leaning back with a smug smirk, nudged Carrie with her elbow. “Soooo… you freaking out because it was awful, or because it was amazing?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Carrie groaned, face still hidden in her hands. “I’m a paradox, okay?!”

Austin, clearly enjoying the chaos of the situation, winked playfully at Carrie. “Guess that means we’ll have to… do it again sometime?”

Carrie squeaked in horror, but the grin on Austin’s face told her this wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

Justin, still standing in stunned silence, finally found his voice and yelled, “CAN WE ALL JUST TAKE A SECOND TO PROCESS THAT THIS WAS A MAGICAL CONSPIRACY?!”

Theresa, turning to the twins with a raised eyebrow, asked sternly, “You switched places this entire night?!”

Jerry, chuckling at the spectacle, shook his head, clearly impressed. “Okay, but let’s be honest. That was pretty genius.”

Max, clapping his hands together with a grin, added, “That was iconic. 10/10. No notes.”

Carrie, still blushing furiously, shot Alex a death glare. Alex high-fived Max and winked, clearly pleased with herself.

The family, now entirely aware of the chaos they had just endured, couldn’t help but laugh—because when you were a Russo, you knew that disaster was just part of the plan.

And this? This was a family tradition.

Notes:

Author’s Note:

Wizards of Waverly Place was one of my childhood favorites, and I’ve always loved the Russo family and their magical antics. This is my first fanfic in this fandom, and I’m so excited to finally share it with all of you! I hope you enjoy reading this chaotic, magical family adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Carrie Russo is my original character (OC) that I created. Please do not use her in any other works.

[darkvictories-fullheart]

10 people I'd like to know better

tagged by @amelia1976 (some time ago now 😳)

last song: Eternal Sunshine ~ Flower Face

(I discovered her through Tumblr and have been hooked ever since.)

last book: I did a reread of The Day the Falls Stood Still by Cathy Marie Buchanan. I first read it in middle school and loved it back then. Reading it as an adult definitely hit me on a whole different level and was certainly worth it. It's a great read if you're interested in historical fiction/romance and learning more about the history of the Niagara Falls area.

favourite color: I second purple of any shade.

last movie: I rewatched Cinderella (2015) and am still taken by it all these years later. It is definitely my favourite of the live action remakes. I wish they all had similar heart.

spicy/sweet/savory: All three - I can never choose! 

last show: Columbo is becoming a new comfort show before bed.

current obsession(s): It sounds a bit cliché, but long walks not going anywhere in particular with headphones. The evenings have gotten so long.

last search up: 'elf cosmetics lip balm'

looking forward to: I'm looking forward to finally seeing Wicked! (I know, I'm so late! I wanted to see it on the big screen with my friend so we waited for it to be released to indendent theatres after missing its initial run.) This theatre kid is going to be a mess of emotions.

tagging (no pressure): @jwclapton , @k1ttenblood , @coffeeandsaddleshoes , @sheet-metal-memories, @signs-of-sleep and ... I will hopefully edit when I think of more! 💜

[iamthemoonagedaydream]

Hi I'm js halfway through crimson rivers and I've saved it onto my samsung notes, but it's crashed and deleted most of my bookmarks, but I js wondered if anyone would know what chapter james says that lovely little speech abt love to reg

I live it so much and sometimes I js need to re-hear it but it'd take me months to find it again if I were to look through myself 😭 would anyone know? And even if you js have the text it'd be amazeballs tysm 💜

Edit:

GUESS WHO FOUND THE PARAGRAPH!!!!!

It's at the start of Conviction!

' James frowns. "Regulus, love isn't... When I talk about love, I don't mean romantic love exclusively, you know that, don't you? Love is—it's not just romance. It's in... everything. Life. The breeze. Sunshine and snow. It's everywhere, in us and around us, even just...blood. Love can be blood, too. Blood spilt. Blood in our veins. Blood flowing in the people around us."

Regulus stares at him, his eyes a little wide, lips parted a bit. Honestly, it makes James feel ridiculously flustered. Regulus looks—well, there he is, a star, and he's starstruck.

James feels his stomach go all topsy-turvy from a sudden migration of butterflies, and he has to violently clear his throat before continuing. "What I mean to say is, no matter what the Hallows think, romantic love isn't some goal everyone should feel the need to meet. Some people don't feel that way, and that doesn't mean there's no love in their life. No one needs romantic love to be fulfilled as a person. Not everyone wants it, and then there are those who aren't ready, and all of it is okay. That doesn't mean there's an absence of love or that you're getting it wrong. You're not, Regulus, I promise."

"I know some people don't want it—romantic love, that is—and you're right to say that's okay, and that it's not required, but I—I do want—I—" Regulus halts, swallowing harshly, and James feels like his heart splinters a little bit. Regulus shakes his head abruptly, coughing. "Anyway, that's not—I'm not even getting the whole...love thing right from any angle, James. I'm—I'm genuinely shit at it."

"Regulus," James says softly.

"I don't know how to make people love me," Regulus croaks, "and I don't know how to love properly in return."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself," James tells him honestly. "Love isn't just something you say; more than anything, it's something you feel. If you feel it, then you're already doing it. And you feel it, Reg, I know you do. If for no one else, then for Sirius." '

[berberriescorner]

Sneak Peek:

AYL? Pt. 4

Currently, I'm working on a few different fics, including part four of "Are You Listening?"

I'm finally at a point where I no longer hate everything I write and start over. Here is a little snippet to hold y'all over for a bit.

Note: This is a rough draft I'm working on, so any snippets you read are subject to change. I doubt I would take anything out altogether. I would only do tweaking and editing. Hope you enjoy it!

Snippet:

(Just Cause It’s So Nice To Look At😉💜💚)

Like most things current in your life, the quiet only lasted for a small fraction of time. Constant vibration sent your phone rumbling across the luxurious dark oak coffee table. As if that weren’t already enough of a distraction, a loud pounding at the suite’s entrance sounded. Rapid knocks and phone buzzing pulled you and Miguel from a restful sleep. He shot up from a slumped form, saving the phone and Macbook from tumbling to the floor from his right leg. The sigh that slipped from your parted lips wreaked of sadness and depression. Miguel’s eyes stole a glance at your phone resting on the table. His cell and the rude knocking went ignored as his lips connected with the top of your head as he brushed the curls from your eyes.

“He’ll only continue to call, amor.”

“I’ll turn it off. Wouldn’t be the first time,” you murmured in response.

Miguel smirked, playfully shaking his head. With a nod, he signaled toward the knocking.

“Excuse me while I go and shoot whoever’s knocking like a madman.”

“Could be important. Try not to be too hard on whoever it is,” you finished with a skeptical shrug.

The buzzing continued, causing a lump to form in your throat. Avoiding a repetitive conversation, you opted to send Rio a quick text.

Maybe: Husband🥰♥️💍: For the love of all that is holy, please give me a minute of peace, Rio! If it’s urgent. Text me! I do not want to talk about us. Nor do I want to get sucked into another whirlpool of emotions. Just please. Quiet–I need quiet. Running on fumes, anger, and sadness is exhausting. I’ll hit you back whenever I’m not an emotional wreck. Don’t count on that being anytime soon.

You could have easily placed him on the block list, but at the end of the day, you were his only dependable family. Given that and the business he was in, you’d never forgive yourself if anything happened and he reached out to find you weren’t there.

Harsh whispers pulled you from your thoughts. They grew near and more distinct. Miguel's voice came out gruff. The recipient of his impatience received a seething response. Impatient footsteps bounded into the room, and an all too familiar voice caused your blood to run cold.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”

Be sure to let me know what you lovelies think 👀😆😁! Thank you to sweet lovelies who have been so kind, patient, and understanding when it comes to waiting for me to drop new content. It's been a struggle to find the energy to stay focused and write. I appreciate everyone's encouragement and for checking up on me. Y'all my sweet wittle love bugs!

Tagging a few of my loves💜💚:

@darqchilddaydreamz @starrynite7114 @4everbrookemarie @nightlywords7 @fineanddandy @rio-reid-whoreee

@novaniskye @that-one-anxious-mango @1andonlytashae @blkbutterfly816 @lovedlover @vanityinvenus @librarian1002 @banana123pudding @fezcosonlylove @sunshine-flower @invisiblegiurl @astoldbychae @percosim @amorestevens @alertyoulikeitsamber

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

@lurkingshan Ok. So I haven't really been in QL land long enough to have watched a lot of under the radar ql stuff to be honest. The OJBL journey is the thing that really is helping me discover more stuff or when someone else recommends something.

Also before I start a couple of things. I don't really know if any of this is obscure or not to be fair. I guess these are things that I had to go look for because I'd never heard of them. But that's me. Second thing. Outside tumblr I don't really know what's ql or not. The only distinction I really make is asian queer media or western. So, sorry for my ignorance in this. This is just some of the ones I watched not too long ago I guess.

Speaking of my ojbl journey. You already talked about No Touching at All recently. But I'll take this opportunity to plug another one that I really like and I wish more people watched was

Ai no Kotodama

The wonderful @twig-tea is my guide through this endeavour and when she told me about this one she also said that it was left out of a lot of rec lists at the time for a couple of reasons.

I'm gonna try to not spoil anything but I really don't understand. I loved the editing in this and how they used everything around the couple to mirror them and work for the love story. Everything serves a purpose here and it's all very deliberate. Sure it's a bit older (lol) and maybe some people are turned off by superficial factors but I really liked it and I loved the progression of these two idiots obviously in love.

Silhouette of Your Voice

I adored this one. Think Last Twilight but Japanese and they didn't screw up anything. One of them is losing his hearing and the other is just a sunshine that will work for his lunch. They are precious. And I think this one might qualify as bl. A warning to anyone who might see this: If you have sensitive ears, do not watch this with headphones. Because at times the sound we hear is the sound Kohei hears and it's not pleasant.

Twilight's Kiss aka Suk Suk

I love when I get to watch love stories between older people. It's just a great reminder that there's life as long as you're living. And life doesn't end at 30, or 40, or 50 or whatever it is that you've been been told to believe. Also queer older people is even rarer so when I found this one I had to watch it. I loved it so much. There's so many great moments, I love the tenderness of the mains, and the conversations around the gay retirement home and the music, I loved the music so much.

Another caveat (because obviously I have issues and need to explain myself a lot). I love my rose-tinted glasses but at heart, I live for the sad stories.

In Between Seasons

I cried so good during this one. It's a story about waiting and about using time to accept, and forgive and heal. It's about family and coming together. And it's beautiful. But it's no bl and it's sad, so fair warning.

That's all I got for now. If I remember more I'll share. I might need to start posting more about films I watch if for no other reason that I would have gifs to use on my own posts. 💜

[polycraftory]

Dragon Falls (How to Tame a Husband) by Davis Lavender

Reviewed by Meghan 💜

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4.5/5 | 🌶️🌶️ 2/5

GENRE: Cozy Portal Fantasy REP: mlm, achillean demi male mc, gay male mc, queer scs CW: mentions of cheating, manipulation, minor injuries LENGTH: 357 pgs

If you are looking for a sweet and funny gay romcom in a fantasy setting, I highly recommend this book! It manages to deliver an interesting isekai / transmigration narrative with a cast of incredibly lovable characters. This is exactly the sort of novel I had wanted when I was growing up looking for queer romance in a fantasy setting. Added to that just a little bit of spice and a whole lot of humor. It's technically an adult novel, but it's a lighthearted one that is also light on the smut. Also, I desperately want this to be a new au setting so fanfic writers please read this. Overall, this is a delightful indie book that I am very glad I got. I really love this Rainbow Crate @rainbowcrate edition from their Cozy Fantasy box.

Below the cut you can find my full review! You can find more reviews like this on my Storygraph or in our "meghan reviews" tag. Check out our pinned post for links!

If you want to avoid spoilers skip the section labeled "The End".

The Main Characters / Core Romance Feliks is an incredibly relatable and very sweet ADHD hot mess. He isn't explicitly neurodivergent, but the way he describes his "brain squirrels" and the everything else about him was deeply relatable to me (my whole household is some flavor of neurodivergent). He is an absolute ray of sunshine, and he gets isekai-ed into a dragon riding warlord with the Ruthless as his moniker. It is incredibly funny to watch him try to do damage control on all the awful things that the old Ryszard did. To differentiate them both in the narrative and for the reader, Feliks has people start to call him Rys. I found him absolutely charming, even though he so often speaks before thinking and puts his foot in his mouth. I thoroughly enjoyed watching him win over everyone, including his husband. Also! He's demisexual and demiromantic! I have literally never read a book before where I saw myself represented like that! It was honestly so wonderful and validating even though its inclusion is very subtle.

Marek is a classic and wonderful example of the grumpy half of the grumpy/sunshine dynamic. He has incredibly good reasons not to trust his husband, who reappeared after being presumed dead for two years. Yet, he can't resist Rys' charm no matter how much he doesn't trust his husband's new polar opposite personality. From his best friend Kasia to the denhands he teaches, I enjoyed how much he cares for everyone despite being so very grumpy. I feel like that personality type tends to be portrayed as a loner, but Marek is at the heart of his community and they all adore him. The relationship between him and his dragon is also incredible, and there is quite a lot of humor in how infuriated he is that his dragon suddenly adores his husband who used to treat them both horribly. Rys calls their dragon Honey Bunny despite there being a Whole Thing (TM) about Dragons not being owned and therefore not being named. It does not at all infuriate Marek that his dragon now only responds to Bunny! Don't be ridiculous!

Their dynamic is everything you'd expect from this sort of grumpy/sunshine pair up, especially with the added component of Rys often saying exactly the wrong thing to Marek since he doesn't know their theoretically "shared" history from before he transmigrated into the story. Rys has absolutely no knowledge of the plot or world he gets thrown into at all, so it leads to quite a lot of unintentional hurt. Still, they have an incredibly sweet romance and both work hard for their happily ever after. For me, this was a very low spice book but I didn't come here for that.

The Worldbuilding I had to give this it's own section because the worldbuilding is so fun and I want people to immediately adopt this as a new fun AU setting for fanfiction. Only nobility can become Dragon Riders. In order to be a Rider, you have to court and marry yourself a Dragon Tamer. Each Tamer has one Dragon that they tame and train. Tamers can be anyone who earns the position, and they often start out as Denhands (basically, like, squires; they help with upkeep around the Den and help care for your dragon). Denhands get adopted by a Tamer and a Rider, so their entire family structure is based around the dragon riding system and I just think that's such a fun build! Once a Tamer and Rider get married, the Rider starts to bond with their dragon and learns how to ride. Once you are done training as a Rider, you have your final test which is the Claiming Ceremony. You take a leap of faith off the cliff and if your dragon catches you, you are a fully fledged Rider. If they don't, well, you fall to your death. Womp womp. Until their Claiming Ceremony, Tamers must protect their Riders from all harm so you get an extra layer of bodyguard romance. Seriously, I need this as an AU setting for every ship I've ever seen immediately. The Plot Very straightforward! Rys thinks his only way back to his world is to survive till his claiming ceremony so he can reuse the whistle at the top of the Falls to reopen the portal. Most of the narrative is a combo of the training leading up to the ceremony, the building romance, and Rys figuring out how to be a good husband (and father lol they adopt a kid. Damon/Demon I adore you). You also see Rys unravel all the harm the character he took over did to all the people of this training camp and home city. It has plenty of found family vibes, and honestly I loved the whole main cast. Overall, this was a very lighthearted plot even though murder / being trapped in another world / falling to his death were all theoretically on the table. The humorous tone keeps the plot from getting dark or serious. It has a good pace and was exactly the right amount of plot based on what I was expecting, which is basically a romcom in a fantasy setting.

The End Spoilers time! It almost goes without saying, but this is a nice, easy, unequivocal happily ever after. I was pleased that there was still plenty of book left after the climax. We got a really nice falling action with the main characters getting together and figuring out how to stay together. Also, this nicely side-stepped any of the usual portal fantasy or transmigration angst from having to choose between returning to their world and staying with their love interest. Feliks/Rys gets to have the best of both worlds since he has a portal he can open and close with the whistle reforged. I do wish we got to see Marek meet his brother and mother, I am dying to know how that went. Also, my edition had a nice little bonus story, The Trouble With Tybald, about two of the side characters getting together as well as a closer peek at the side romance between Demon (Rys and Marek's son) and the son of the bartender. It was a fun little surprise snack at the end, even though the bonus content wasn't for the main couple!

[yxsuun]

➸𝟏𝟔.𝟎𝟖.𝟐𝟒￨Brilhando mais que tudo ✨💚💛

✨ Collab Jimin e V Edit — BTS

🌹 Primeira Collab Finalizada com a perfeita da @nightpolemicdsgn, gratidão pela oportunidade sunshine 🥺💜✨

🔗 App: Ibispaint X