#I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be a character as or not so you get one anyways

[pacofprunes]

(reaction) unintentionally riding the squid game characters, let’s mingle ! 둥글게 둥글게 !

contains — myungi x reader, thanos x reader, namgyu x reader, daeho x reader, gihun x reader, ali x reader, junho x reader. smut , 18+ !

summary — going on the disco pang pang ride with the squid game characters and you end up on top of them (you gotta look up the ride to understand lol)

a/n — this prompt was firstly done by luvyeni with this fic here! i wanted to do this with squid game so this wasn’t my idea, all credits to them.

masterlist

KANG DAEHO / PLAYER 388

he is absolutely embarrassed and feels like a total perv. he was blushing so hard that he looked like he had a fever. he spews out apologies the whole time and is totally ashamed of himself as he uses his hand to cover his face once he felt his dick getting harder and harder, and when he could tell that you could feel him too, the shame he felt was too much. his precum starts seeping through his pants and he swears he’s about to actually cum if this ride doesn’t end soon and you don’t get off of him. he has to bite his lip back to stop any moans from slipping and he is absolutely not looking forward to speaking to you once this ride is over and he for sure isn’t looking forward to getting the pictures of this event back from the ride operator. this will be a moment that he thinks about daily. please don’t mention this to him ever again.

“god, i’m s’sorry…can this ride be over please?”

THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI SU-BONG

he’s a shameless fuck, okay? he’s going to smirk up at you while he watches the blush paint all over your cheeks as you try to move off of him. “wow, you’re so thirsty for cock you gotta ride me in public?” all you can do is tell him to shut up. but as the goofiness wares off and the situation settles a little more on him and he can actually feel the tent in his pants, he starts grinding up against you and thrusting up a little, fucking you through your pants. bits of precum start leaking out when he can actually feel his dick hitting your tiny hole, and as soon as you two get off this ride, you both are going home.

“fuck, look what you did. you gonna help me out?”

SEONG GIHUN

he didn’t want to get on this ride in the first place, claiming he was too old but you had forced him onto it and right now he hates himself. he feels like a teenage boy getting hard at the sight of the slightest bit of skin showing on a girl. he refuses to look up at you and tries to push you off of him, but when you plop right back down on him, he swears he just came in his pants. “gihun—”, but he stops you from speaking anymore. “don’t! i— i don’t think i can do this much longer, i’m sorry—” he throws his head up towards the sky and then towards the ride operator thinking ‘why me?’. once you two get off of the ride and he can feel something dripping down his leg, he swears he’s gonna kill himself once you two get home. he can’t bare to look at you and he refuses to ask you to help him out with his ‘problem’.

“gihun, come out of your room! it’s okay, i understand!”

“please just let me wallow in shame…”

MYUNGI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★

he doesn’t give a fuck. sits there like it’s completely normal. you’ll feel him hard, but it won’t be crazy noticeable. he’s not some horny teenager who just learned that girls don’t piss out of their ass, you won’t catch him cumming in his pants. but once you two get somewhere more private, he’s going to claim that he’s finishing what you started. but don’t think the situation isn’t turning him on completely. every chance you had to get off of him, he doesn’t let you. he holds you down on his dick by your waist and he smirks at the blush slowly spreading on your cheeks as you look at him with wide eyes. the way he speaks to you makes it seem like he’s claiming that you fell onto him on purpose.

“what? you came onto me. so help me fix my problem since you’re so needy.”

HAWNG JUNHO

not utterly embarrassed but he’s not too calm about it either. you certainly catch the blush on his cheeks, but with one hand he holds your hip down with a grip that falters from tight to light, as if he doesn’t know weather he wants to get you off of him or if he wants you to stay. but once he realizes that he doesn’t want the people around him to see how hard he is, he grips you close to him with both of his hands. you can feel his fingernails digging into you every now and then when there’s a particularly rough bounce and he has to squeeze his eyes shut. you could tell he was fighting demons in him, the sweat that was dripping down his forehead was concerning. when the rides over he makes you stand closely in front of him to keep his boner hidden, and you can feel it pressing right smack against your ass. when you turn around to face him, he has a small shy smile on his face, the light pink still dusting over his cheeks.

“sorry…do you think we could take care of this maybe and finish this trip another day?”

NAMGYU / PLAYER 124

he tries to play it off and teases you while laughing. “couldn’t go without my cock for two hours?” he even thrusts up a couple of times to tease you, but after awhile he realizes it’s not a joke anymore and when he can feel the precum threatening to leak, he realizes he’s just been teasing himself and he quickly snaps his head to the side and pushes a hand against your chest. what were you trying to do here? if you go to tease him back and grind on him as revenge he’s going to give you the absolute fattest glare.

“what? i thought it was a joke, right?”

“i swear i’ll push you into the center right now if you don’t stop.” (he’s not joking)

ALI ABDUL

he was super excited to go to the amusement park and try out this ride for the first time, but he certainly didn’t expect this to happen. everytime he goes to move you and you somehow wound up back on top of him, he honestly wants to cry from the shame. at first it was funny, but now it was clearly starting to get him excited. yeah it felt good but, “stop it ali, get yourself together…” he just felt way too bad and he ends up giving up on the whole situation and just has to cover his whole face with both of his palms. everytime that you laugh and say that it’s okay, he thinks it’s getting better, but then you bounce right back down and he can’t take it. he’s holding his precum back (i don’t know how at this point) and it’s making tears sting and prick his eyes. he knew he was gonna have to jerk off to fix this and when he was, he was totally going to imagine this, he knew it, and it made him so ashamed. he definitely mumbles some things in urdu that you don’t understand at all, but just know he’s shaming himself and throwing a few curses at himself.

“i’m so sorry. i’ll make it up to you, i swear. what is wrong with you ali?”

[epicthemusicalstuff]

I have a question that I would ask Mr. Jalepeno if I could but I can’t so you’re the next best thing.

why does Aeolus has a female voice actor in EPIC? Aeolus, in Greek mythology, is the GOD of the wind, not goddess. He is male in the original myth and is even referred to as a “him” in Luck Runs Out. I love Aeolus’s voice actress, they do a great job portraying the character, I was just wondering if it was a stylistic choice or because of casting or what.

Hello! So, I don’t know the actual reason, but every time Jorge used to do an audition, he would clarify that Anyone could audition for any role, regardless of age, gender, or anything else! (As a matter of fact, Talya first auditioned for Zeus before she did Circe!). Taking this into account, my best guess is that Jorge wasn’t even sure whether he wanted to have a male or female voice, but rather just went with the singer who he felt best captured the essence of the character!

A lot of people also head-canon Aeolus as genderfluid or nonbinary also because of this, and due to the fluid and ever changing nature of the winds, which I love and fully support!

If I ever find anything though that states the actual reason I’ll be sure to let you know!!

[thedissonantverses]

This is absolutely me being petty and feel free to ignore but as it concerns THE Scout Lace Harding and this fandom’s raging misogyny I’m gonna indulge:

Harding’s character was ruined in DATV is a take you could have sure. It’s not a good take but ya know. Oh you want reasons? Okay!

“Why couldn’t it have been Dagna?”

Because the literal entire point is that Harding didn’t have magic and that magic is returning to the dwarves on a broader scale. Dagna wasn’t relevant and that’s okay it’s cool there is more than one dwarf with magic out there. It’s expanding the universe. Again, in my opinion which feel free to take or leave, this is a good thing. It would have been cool to have Dagna but again I’m really glad Veilguard didn’t shove every unnecessary character they could to cameo and focused on telling a good story. Veilguard is purposely setting up a future where the dwarves have magic again.

“Harding’s character is different!”

Yes. It has been ten years. And she was a secondary character in Inquisition with barely a background because she wasn’t relevant. When you did interact with her you were doing so as one of the most powerful people on the continent. Now she’s a fully realized character and on much more equal footing with the team. Again, this is a good thing. Her story in Veilguard is wonderful and while I am incredibly biased toward her, her romance is a delight.

“She isn’t empathetic enough towards Solas.”

Ah here it is. Here’s the actual reason I made this post. Cause see there are people centering Solas’ feelings and character at every turn. Harding has EVERY fucking reason to be mad at Solas. I’d go so far as to say she can hate him but she doesn’t. He lied to everyone they knew and his original plan was to kill them all and tear down the Veil immediately. He’s responsible for the Inquisitor being forced to even be the Inquisitor and this includes needing to amputate their hand because his magic is the reason they are dying.

Yet Harding still gives more grace and empathy to Solas than just about anyone would in her shoes and yet people are still pissed at her for…telling him off? He killed her friend. He’s the reason her people don’t have magic. He’s the reason their empire fell too. What were you expecting????? People aren’t just mad they’re actually livid over this. They hate her and the writers.

It just comes off like you’re centering a man’s feelings over a woman’s because she has a spine and isn’t falling to her knees thanking him for wanting to destroy her world. Her entire arc is dealing with generational trauma and her story matters a lot to both the dwarves and Thedas as a whole. It is incredibly poignant and beautiful and it was so nice to explore the dwarven part of the lore through a woman who represents so much of what Thedas has become.

Once again it’s any excuse to hate Veilguard. Any excuse at all.

[kisses4kaia]

nobody does it better by carly simon but it’s the radiohead cover and it’s patrick… cw: DISGUSTING smut with this evil man, no less no more . im shameless.

a/n: so we all know the photo. and what ThePhoto did to me was… this! enjoy. 😌

the room is loud. there’re a million people you could be talking to, looking at. a hundred people you could sit in the corner and people watch, but his eyes are on you. and you cannot look away.

patrick zweig was a reoccurring character in your life. starting off as low-commitment boyfriend freshman year, turning to effervescent fuckbuddy you could never get far enough away from to become detached. you hated him, god, you hated the pull on you he had. the iron grip that steeled you right where you were across the room from him, eyes locked like a guarded palace onto his. good lord.

it truly takes the will of god to keep your feet planted where they are, forcing yourself to divert your eyes from him. but, never fear, he’s already moving towards you.

his towering presence is felt immediately as he stands in front of you, looking down into your eyes as if he can hear your heart pounding regardless of the blaring song around him.

“hey,” he says quietly, tone soft but gravelly, as if there wasn’t a sound barrier around the two of you that might keep you from hearing him. “what do you want, zweig? your voice comes out more pointedly than you intended, but with the way your pulse is thrumming and your hands are shaking, you can hardly blame yourself.

looking at you with that look in his eye, the one that almost mocks you as to say ‘got ya’, he cranes his neck down to whisper in your ear. “what do you want?” and he knows.

patrick turns without another word, and before you can process what you’re doing, your feet are moving with him, as if a collar was wrapped around your neck, choking your senses, and the leash was hanging haphazardly from his hand.

his path leads you into a bathroom, small, no shower, with a buzzing, lagging light. his hands are on your waist as soon as you step through the door, pushing you against it. patrick doesn’t kiss you immediately, unusual for him. “i miss you,” he breathes out, nervously, and it is jarring.

patrick zweig is not nervous, ever. he was self sure and confident and a fucking dickwad who knew it and embraced it as part of his “charm”. “yeah? and how many girls have you said that to, hm? britney posted you on her story yesterday, patrick. last friday, it was ántonia. fuck you,” you spat out, the 3… maybe 4 vodka sours you indulged in half an hour ago making your head pound, or maybe it was his dior sauvage.

he sighs, looking away from you impatiently, but when his eyes lands back on you, his gaze is crazed. “fuck, they don’t matter to me. i don’t know their last names, i don’t know their little siblings, they don’t know my favorite band, and i don’t look them in the eye when i fuck them. shit, baby, it’s you, don’t you realize? always fucking you,”

oscar winning preformance, is what you want to say, but his exasperated exhale after the words come out, paired with the rihanna song dully thrumming behind the door, bass vibrating against the wood, you look between his eyes, down at his lips, and your eyes don’t travel again before you smash your mouth onto his.

never fucking again, you tell yourself as his lips move in desperate, hungry, almost disbelieving tandem with yours. this is the last time.

“do you have a boyfriend?” he breathes out between kisses as he unbuckles your belt and unbuttons your jeans, shimmying them off. “like that’d make you walk out right now,” you kiss him again, biting his lower lip. “fuck. no, fuck no, but if you do, i’m going to make you remember exactly why nobody does it better.”

patrick lifts you effortlessly and places you on the sink, pulling your sticky, lacy panties to the side, smirking that evil damn smirk at the fancy little bow at the top. “did you know i was gonna be here tonight?” he nibbles as your ear, bringing loving bites down your jugular to your shoulder.

“no, but i knew art would be.” your smile is devious as his eyes light up, not with jealousy, but with the same fire he gets when he realizes his opponent on the other side of the net is really playing with him, when they’re really playing fucking tennis.

patrick jerks himself once or twice, languidly, before sliding his cock into you. a hardly contained whine pulls from your voice, and your mouth drops into an ‘o’ at the stretch. he nearly has you in an embrace, the way he’s holding you closely against his chest, and his curls are begging to be pulled. you entwine your finger with the hair at the nape of his neck and tug with every sharp thrust into your leaking pussy.

“more, give me more, patrick, don’t hold back on me, asshole.” he doesn’t even respond, just obediently lifts you up every so slightly off the sink and moves you on and off of his cock, giving him a much wider range of motion. his dick is nearly completely out of you each time his hips snap back, but you’re moaning like a pornstar each time he’s in again.

his ability to hit that spot inside of you with near perfect accuracy every fucking time is expert, a skill that could only be acquired by someone so in tune with your pleasure—and if patrick zweig was nothing else, he was that.

“fuck, gonna, shit! gripping me so fucking tight, leaking all over my shit, baby. she miss me? huh, pretty? you miss me?” he was talking right through you, each word penetrating your deepest desires and fantasies. you hated how he knew you. you hated that you let him. but most of all, you hated how close you were to coming.

he keeps fucking you unforgivingly, whining and moaning like a whore all the while. “you still on that pill?” he asked, voice pitchy and annoying and sexy.

“no, insurance stopped covering it.” you say seriously, and you can’t keep your laughter in when his thrusts slow and he looks at you panicked. “i’m fucking with you, don’t stop,”

“you’re evil, you know that?” he says endearingly, playful as always, and it’s no more than a minute later that he’s coming inside you.

patrick never was a selfish lover, so it came as no surprise that after pulling his softening girth from you, not one, not two, but three of his finger were quickly pumping in and out of you, making him moan sluttishly at the way his own cum coated his fingers. his other hand made busy circling your clit with his thumb, fast and calculatedly.

he knew every button to push because he sewed them onto you, and so it was no surprise that with that special angling of his wrist, you were coming undone on his fingers in minutes.

it’s quiet for the next few minutes, you cleaning yourself up, patrick washing his hands, the both of you redressing in silence.

“so… same time tomorrow?” he smiles at you, pleased with himself and sure your answer will be affirmative.

you walk up to him, smile, kiss him tenderly on his lips, let your heels touch the ground again softly. “go fuck yourself, patrick.” your words are sharp but your tone is sickly sweet, and patrick recovers from his shock quickly, smirking stupidly.

“after that, i most definitely will be.”

[cybrasigilism]

could u maybe do like mutual virginity loss with player 125? like both of them r so shy and awkward,, i think it would be adorable.,.

So Anxious (Park Min-su/Player 125 X F! Reader SMUT)

warning: smut, no way | not proofread | lowercase intended | sub x sub | virginity loss | riding | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions of the character differ from your own

character: park min-su (player 125)

A/N: decided to make this one an out of the games kinda post! i absolutely adore the idea of the reader being just as shy and nervous about the whole ordeal as min-su, thank you for the cute request! hope you enjoy :)

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

➤ since you were both serious about having you first be with someone special, you guys definitely tried to talk it out beforehand. but you both ended up becoming too flustered to really continue.

“how are we gonna be able to do it if we can’t even talk about it?”

“i don’t know…i still want to though..”

➤ when you guys eventually decided to get to it, you initiated the kiss but pulled away almost immediately, covering your face sheepishly.

“sorry! am i moving too fast?”

“n-not at all!” (he was definitely blushing himself, conflicted whether or not to hide the tent in his pants considering what you two were trying to do here)

➤ at first, you guys tried making out in the typical position— you being underneath him. but, you could tell min-su wasn’t exactly confident like this, so you guys switched up to where you would be straddling him. this drove him nuts of course

➤ once you guys got into the groove of things, your nerves began to calm. sure you were both shaking, but it had a bit more to do with the sheer anticipation now coursing through your bodies each time your lips met. it wasn’t made any better when min-su eventually snuck his hands up your shirt, caressing your bare back with his cold palms. the noise you made startled him, which you felt bad for

“oh, i’m sorry.. was that too much?”

“no! no, your hands are just c-cold.. that’s all..”

“ah, did you want me to stop or-“

you shake your head “feels nice, don’t stop on my account.”

➤ you’re unsure if you should at first, but you start to grind on him, drawing a unexpected moan from beneath the kiss you were currently sharing. you broke the kiss as you started to subconsciously grind harder, avoiding eye contact out of embarrassment at the expression that must have been painting your face just then. you could tell min-su was repressing his voice just as much as you were your own— you were both positively petrified to make any sound at all, in fact. but, some stifled moans made their way past as he shifted his grasp from your back to your hips.

➤ when you guys actually ended up having sex, it was a swift matter for both parties. i mean, let’s be real here. you were both completely inexperienced virgins, you couldn’t be surprised that you guys both wound up cumming fast. however swift it may have been, you enjoyed it nonetheless. he wasn’t too big, so it didn’t hurt too badly, but it was enough to make you feel better than your fingers ever could.

➤ oh yeah, and you guys could forget about masking those moans of yours any longer. the moment you sank down onto his dick, min-su was a goner. you had never heard him make such a sound in all your life, and you even asked him if he was alright initially. sure, you may not have been so vocal at first contact, but as soon as you started moving that completely turned on its head.

➤ after the fact, you both just kind of laid there next to one another. silent. come on, you had just changed the trajectory of your friendship forever, that was a lot to process. after a moment though, you both found that neither of you could wipe those stupid grins off your faces. you had just changed the entire path of your friendship, forever. and you were both okay with that

AAAA thank you so much for this adorable request! i absolutely loved writing some soft smut, however short it may have been :) thanks for reading again, and i’ll see you on the next one!

as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @agorsnotworld @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[ishasturnz]

Cookies ‘n Head

based off this post @sunrisemill and this fic.

contains: porn with plot, counter head?, some fluff, i think thats it, male receiving.

Bsf!Reader x bsf!Chris

authors note: it took me like an hour to figure out a plot just for this because i wanna spoil you guys. Also click on the first message to see the full thing. And RUSHED and maybe a part 2.

wc: 579

character count: 2635

4:36

My car started to pull into his driveway, the smell of freshly baked cookies filling my nose slightly making me lightheaded.

I parked and stepped out of the drivers seat and headed to the front door. Before I could even knock the door swung open revealing a very excited Chris.

“Thank you! thank you! thank you!” He squealed like a girl before attempting to take the white box away.

“Hey! Calm down, you get fed every day I think you’ll be fine without COOKIES for a few seconds.”

5:48

“Can I eat them now?” Chris persistently asked repeatedly like a child. “Okay go ahead and eat some since you want them so badly.”

I grabbed one for myself since I was a bit hungry since I didn't eat lunch.

I took a small bite of the soft food, Chris just stared at my lips the whole time.

Noticing how plump my lips were, how smooth my brown skin was, but his thoughts shifted from something else.

And wasn't appropriate once so ever.

“Chris dude, are you even gonna eat the cookies? I’m only saving them because I want you to have some, secondly, I’m hungry too” My voice chose to get a slight attitude and sassiness added into it.

“Well first off lose the fucking attitude, secondly, M’not hungry. Not for food at least.” His accent started to slip out slowly the deeper his voice got.

“Okay, then what are you hungry for? Because you’re not the only one hungry. But I’m hungry for food so what do you wanna eat then?” I started to slowly get hangry and sassier by the second.

“I got something that’ll make you full.” Those were his last words before I somehow ended up on my knees in front of him.

6:09

"y-yeah—shiit, juuust like tha--mmpfh-ah," Chris’s head fell back against the white cabinet behind him.

His rough hands pulled my hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding my movements as I continued sucking him off.

His eyes hooded, making it seem like they’ve rolled back completely. His hips started to buck into my mouth making the tip of his oversized cock nudging against the back of my throat making me continuously gag around him.

The noise of gargling filled the entire kitchen "fuuuck, I’m right there, just... just—shit," he groaned out loud.

Hot tears spilled down my face as he continued to face-fuck me. Until the tight coil in his lower stomach started getting tighter and tighter by the second.

and his climax hit him hard, his whole body shuddering, hips twitching into your mouth uncontrollably.

his hips twitching almost involuntarily as he spilled deep down your throat, he held your head down by the makeshift ponytail to make sure you swallowed all of his sticky release a quiet moan left his mouth “..Shittt…”.

6:40

I wiped the corners of my mouth getting rid of access cum and licking it off my thumb. “You should drink more water or something chris— your cum tastes like ass.” My tone playful but I wasn’t joking at all.

“Yeah I don’t think now’s the best time to mention that.” Chris spoke while catching his breath yet munching on one of the soft cookies.

“Yeah sure buddy” I paused before speaking again, “Also who knew Christopher Sturniolo whimpers, more blackmail for me”

“Oh fuck you Y/n.” He uttered with a mouthful of chewed-up cookies in his mouth.

“I mean you can if you want to, I’m not saying no.”

taglist: @tezzzzzzzz @chrepsi @angvl3tears @theylovedemi @sturnshood @sturnberries @sturniologirlzz @muwapsturniolo @dykes4chris @chrisisadilf @chrissturniolossidebitch @baileysturnz @slut4christopherr @slxt4chriss @slvtf0rchr1s @slxtarchive @raesturns @hjvi @starkeyszn @audreyscave @lailasnight @sturns-mermaid @ikyoudreamofme @sturnsmadl @ohmanareyoucereal9 @sossturn @blushsturns @rcklessheavn @55sturn @phone4pills @cupiidk1lls @bsturnzmtts @wh0remikasas @sfoiasturn @trevorsgodmother @bluestriips

MASTERLIST

[freewilllife]

Viktor’s commune always gave off creepy vibes, but for me, the path it was taking became crystal clear at the start of ep6. That first scene basically spells out the extent of Viktor’s corruption and how far his actions and mindset are from any kind of altruism.

@jaybejaybeyes Personally, I interpret this after having some conversations as "Victor´s dream come true".

Indeed, it is a sort of corruption, but it seems Victor is actually well-meaning here.

And look at Viktor's face when it happens. That’s not horror. That’s not astonishment. That’s not grief. It’s… mild annoyance, I'd say?

Why should he grieve Salo´s death? I am just curious. They are neither friends, nor related. Victor "healed" them, but that doesn´t make him Jesus.

He may consider himself responsible in a way, but I doubt, that he became suddenly all-loving.

And that’s the thing about Viktor’s commune — it was never about the people who joined it. It was never about understanding them, helping them, or connecting with them. It was all about Viktor’s desperate need to be in control, about his refusal to confront suffering, pain, and all the messy, complicated parts of being human. From the very beginning, it was about Viktor going, “well, the end justifies the means”, but there’s nothing kind or humanistic about that philosophy, because it always comes at the expense of people’s lives. The end never justifies the means.

Nope, you are definitely wrong. Victor indeed has wished to make the lives of the people better with "hextech" , was even more outspoken, that he did not wish to create weapons and I guess that this commune is literally, how he envishioned it. There is corruption...but it is the arcane at work here. And maybe even in Jayce case.

There can be a conversation to be had, if the people are already dead or are still alive...but what is undoubtly true...The whole commune is dependant on Victor.

People can be both...Yes, Victor wanted to stay alive, but he is not a control-freak...And surely not a guy, who thinks that the "the end justifies the means". I mean, isn´t it funny, that the solution Victor is conviced of, plays in the hands of the arcane, which obviously has a will of its own?

It is literally right there...that the arcane heavily influenced and manipulated Victor, and most likely also Jayce.

The end never justifies the means.

That is an oversimplification. There are cases, where the end literally justifies the means.

And honestly, I was surprised to see how many people were mad at Jayce for blasting Viktor at the end of that episode. In my opinion, by then, it was quite clear that Viktor didn’t care much about his Arcane-modified toys. He wasn’t even pretending he did. Salo wasn’t a person to him. None of them were. They were just tools, stepping stones for his glorious evolution. And all of that was right there in the first scene of ep6.

Oh, that is interesting. Did suddenly "the end justify the means" or becomes murder a great deed, if the right character is killed?

In contrast, Victor tried to be responsible for his commune and tried to protect them, literally dying. I am sorry, but I am not sure, why you suddenly jump to such conclusions?

I still feel like we were ROBBED of that whole arc, watching Viktor descend to this. Because he gives a shit about Vander, so it's not like he's totally unempathetic--like he's still Viktor. It's just that from the start of the commune up to this point, Viktor has been going through a slow descent into madness from not having a single actual person to talk to who isn't completely bound to him in some way. There is nobody to question him and everyone is relying on him constantly.

@straysparks Yes, the influence of the arcane gets stronger.

Viktor is deeply empathetic but also vulnerable to megalomania, and having a whole group of people worship you for months on end is gonna get to your head eventually even if you really really really hate the idea. Which I think we can be pretty certain he does at first, unless you subscribe to the idea that the Hexcore is really majorly influential to his personality change.

Both, but why should this not be the case? The arcane has a will of its own and can be vicious if challenged. Victor was literally drowned in it and hears a voice the moment he wakes up...Of course, he is being changed/manipulated to a certain degree. When Ekko literally broke the armour, Victor woke up and realized, what he had done...This moment of "waking up" does not make much sense, if the arcane has not played a major role in the corruption process.

Because people being wrong are rarely persuaded by violence alone.

I think his disconnection from his empathy is driven by a need to get away from the closeness of the commune members. He's an extremely private person and he gets virtually no space or time to himself for months on end. Seeing the commune members as cogs in a machine is a coping strategy and I must stress that there is NO ONE to check him on this.

Or he already knows deep down , that they are already dead? He does care for them, but I mean, he is literally not Jesus, has hardly any personal attachment to them. In fact, Victor had always difficulties in that area.

Hexcore influence is convenient to the narrative, but Viktor's character is set up in such a way that his behavior here isn't even out of character given a particular series of events which we KNOW happen, we just don't see them on screen. It's ooc if you assume Viktor doesn't change between the times we see him on screen, but that's the thing, he DOES.

The hexcore influence is not just convenient, it literally explains so much...Look here:1,2

I saw the light after reading those posts. Nope, Victor does not suddenly become mad or cold for no reason, he literally is partly mind-controlled.

Viktor’s commune always gave off creepy vibes, but for me, the path it was taking became crystal clear at the start of ep6. That first scene basically spells out the extent of Viktor’s corruption and how far his actions and mindset are from any kind of altruism.

Think about it: Viktor sees Jayce kill Salo through Salo’s eyes. He’s connected to Salo but doesn’t even try to comfort him, verbally or mentally, or ease his pain with magic in his final moments. He just stands there, watching. Waiting for Salo to die, staring at Jayce. The only time he flinches is when Jayce lunges forward, and Salo dies abruptly — his vision cuts to black.

And look at Viktor's face when it happens. That’s not horror. That’s not astonishment. That’s not grief. It’s… mild annoyance, I'd say?

Like, ugh. Jayce didn’t get it. He didn’t appreciate my work. And now he’s also destroyed one of my puppets. Sounds pretty frustrating, doesn't it, Viktor?

Then Sky says, “poor Salo”, and Viktor? Immediately pivots to, “That’s not Jayce. It’s another will at work within him”. And a moment later, he’s fascinated by the Anomaly. Salo’s gone, and no one spares him an extra thought.

And that’s the thing about Viktor’s commune — it was never about the people who joined it. It was never about understanding them, helping them, or connecting with them. It was all about Viktor’s desperate need to be in control, about his refusal to confront suffering, pain, and all the messy, complicated parts of being human. From the very beginning, it was about Viktor going, “well, the end justifies the means”, but there’s nothing kind or humanistic about that philosophy, because it always comes at the expense of people’s lives. The end never justifies the means.

And honestly, I was surprised to see how many people were mad at Jayce for blasting Viktor at the end of that episode. In my opinion, by then, it was quite clear that Viktor didn’t care much about his Arcane-modified toys. He wasn’t even pretending he did. Salo wasn’t a person to him. None of them were. They were just tools, stepping stones for his glorious evolution.

And all of that was right there in the first scene of ep6.

[doppel-doodles]

A normal post a about Kevin Barnes from Poppy Playtime.

I genuinely feel so bad for Kevin…

Like that was a kid who clearly had a lot of issues from the start, instead of getting the help he needed all that happened was him being marked off as a „problem child“.

And then he was turned into a toy:/

Read more of my full thoughts and a sorta character analysis/ramblings below cut!

Like honestly no wonder he is seething if he wasn’t troubled before he definitely is now-

Obviously he has no trust in anyone, almost every adult he ever knew screwed him over in some way, hell even the kids he shares a body with would go against what he would do.

(Great example: When Doey chases us in his monster form, it's the arms of Matthew and Jack that are trying to keep his mouth from biting us, Kevin's are trying to grab for us.)

He was hurt over and over again, clearly he wasn’t aggressive just because he wanted to be but because this was his only way of making sure he wouldn’t get hurt.

It was how he had a semblance of control, a sense of protection.

But of course the irony is: That coping mechanism brought him more pain, it was what got him killed.

Sure, maybe he could've just "calmed down", but why would he? He was hurt again, he lost everything AGAIN.

All because he listened to their judgement over his own. Kevin could've killed the player and Poppy on sight, clearly his emotions easily overpowered the other two, but he didn't.

Instead he agreed to trust them as well.

He was still willing to do that, surely if he were just a mindless monster he wouldn't be.

And you know what? I believe he blames himself just as much if not more for what happened than he blames us and Poppy and projects it tenfold.

Because maybe, JUST MAYBE-

If he didn't allow himself to trust again, then everyone would still be alive.

But he did...now see what that got him?

In his mind he's proven right.

So what's an emotionally unstable child to do? After being hurt AGAIN?

That's right.

He lashes out at the first thing he sees that had something to do with his pain:

Us.

Is he in the right? Hell nah- bro we didn't mean for that to happen! But do you seriously think this kid is thinking rationally right now??? NO! He is seeing red right now, he is in fight mode! All emotions and must I reiterate that the only way he knows how to express them is through anger and violence?

There is NO reasoning with wrath try as you might! And that hurts because yeah maybe you could've dealt with that if he was still a gradeschooler but he isn't! He is 900 pounds of living dough with a thirst for blood!

It's either our life or his now. And we already know what the outcome of that is.

Honestly I think it's better that we only hear Matthew and Jack apologise for what happened, I do not think Kevin would even if he did feel bad for what he had done.

Because why would someone who has been scorned so many times be vulnerable all of the sudden? When his main character trait is biting at those who bark at him?Why would all that rage suddenly disappear? If anything the stress of dying only causes him to lash out more.

You don't need an apology from him to feel bad for him.

He is hurting anyone with two eyes can see that and for what it's worth, I do believe deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong but it was too late for him to see any other alternatives and even if he didn't and thought he was right for doing what he did it doesn't take away from the fact that he was fucked over by life.

Kevin is not the worst part of Doey, he is just a part of him.

And that part is not just a violent hunk of playdough.

It’s a scared, confused little boy that cared just as much about every toy in safe haven as his other two components did.

Because if he didn’t why would he get so angry about their death?

Anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk-

Also feel free to agree or disagree with my take, those are just my thoughts so let me hear yours, I like discussions:}

[aspenmissing]

hey, first of all i want to say that i love your writing and style! could you please do arcane characters (jinx, silco, jaycee, victor, vander) with a reader who’s a mercenary? like what their reactions would be, would they accept it or not, the relationship dynamics

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ?

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 7291 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ (ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ! ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ

JAYCE

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the machines Jayce had been working on. The golden light of the sunset streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the room. Y/N stood by the door, her coat already on, fingers tracing the outline of the weapon at her hip.

“Where are you going?” Jayce’s voice broke the silence, heavy with suspicion. His eyes flicked between her and the door.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice steady, but there was an undeniable tension in her posture. “I’ve got a job to do, Jayce.”

Jayce stood from his workbench, brow furrowed. “A job? At a time like this?”

Y/N met his gaze, but there was an air of detachment about her now, a barrier she’d put up without realizing. “I don’t have the luxury of waiting around, Jayce. I need to work.”

Jayce took a few steps toward her, confusion and concern written on his face. “It’s late, Y/N. What kind of job requires you to leave now?” He crossed his arms, unwilling to let her go without an explanation. “You’ve been so distant lately... What’s going on?”

Y/N looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes. The truth of it—whatever her job was—felt too complicated to explain, even to him. She hadn’t expected it to come to this, but she couldn’t back out now.

“I’m just doing what needs to be done,” she said quietly, her voice betraying no hint of vulnerability. “I’ll be back soon. You don’t need to worry.”

Jayce’s gaze hardened, his frustration starting to bubble over. “I do need to worry, Y/N. You’re disappearing in the middle of the night, and you won’t even tell me why. I want to understand, but you’re shutting me out.”

The quiet tension between them deepened, his worry unmistakable. He wanted to keep pushing, to demand more, but he could see the look on her face—the quiet resolve that made him take a step back. She wasn’t going to tell him, not now, and she wasn’t giving him a choice.

For a long moment, they simply stood there, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, Y/N spoke again, softer this time. “I’m not asking for your permission, Jayce. I’m not asking for your approval.”

Jayce took a slow breath, his mind racing. He had never seen her like this, so closed off, and it gnawed at him. “I don’t want to control you. I just... don’t understand.”

Y/N looked at him one last time, her eyes softening slightly, but her resolve remained firm. “I’ll explain when I can. Just... trust me, okay?” Her voice was quiet but insistent.

Jayce swallowed, his frustration mixing with an overwhelming sense of helplessness. He nodded, though the knot in his chest remained tight. “Okay, Y/N. But I don’t like this.”

With a final glance at him, Y/N stepped out into the night, the door closing behind her softly. Jayce stood still for a long moment, watching the space where she had been, his mind spinning with unanswered questions. He didn’t know what she was doing or why she was leaving so late, but he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to stop thinking about it.

=

The hours passed slowly, the silence in the apartment weighing heavily on Jayce. He had been cleaning, trying to distract himself from the ache in his chest. He picked up the stray papers and straightened the furniture, but his mind kept returning to the argument. Her words. The cold finality of it all.

As he moved into their bedroom, something caught his eye—a loose floorboard in the corner of the closet. It had always been there, but tonight, his curiosity got the better of him. He bent down, prying the board up with a creak. His heart raced when he saw what lay beneath it: a stash of money, far more than they’d ever had in the apartment. Along with it were weapons—blades, smoke bombs, and a few tools that looked disturbingly familiar. And then, the papers.

A hit list.

Names, dates, locations. His hand trembled as he skimmed through it. Some of the names were ones Y/N had mentioned in passing, but he’d never thought much of them. Now, seeing it laid out so coldly in front of him, the truth hit him like a punch to the gut.

She wasn’t just working. She was a mercenary. A killer. All this time, she’d been living a life of violence, and he had been blind to it.

Jayce’s stomach churned. He had known something wasn’t right, but this... this was beyond anything he’d imagined. His breath hitched as he placed the papers down gently, trying to steady himself. He felt betrayed, but not in the way he expected. This wasn’t about her safety—it was about who she was. The person he loved was capable of taking lives, and he couldn’t ignore that.

The door creaked open a few hours later. Y/N stepped in, her eyes immediately finding his. She froze at the look on his face.

“Jayce,” she began, her voice hesitant, as though she wasn’t sure how to face him after everything.

“No,” Jayce cut her off, his voice low but firm. His heart pounded in his chest, his fists clenched. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me anymore.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she realized what he was talking about.

“I found it, Y/N,” Jayce continued, his voice thick with anger and disbelief. “I found everything—the money, the weapons, the list. I know what you’ve been doing. I know who you are.”

Her eyes flickered toward the floorboard, and Jayce saw the guilt flash in her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to find it. But now that he had... there was no denying it.

“I didn’t want you to see this,” she whispered, her voice small. “I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

Jayce stepped forward, his face twisted with a mixture of hurt and fury. “You’ve been lying to me, Y/N. All this time, you’ve been living a double life. And I—I thought I knew you. I thought we were building something real. But now I find out this? This is who you really are?”

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t deny it. “This is who I was, Jayce. This is what I’ve been trying to escape. But it doesn’t just go away.”

Jayce’s anger flared. “I’m not talking about what you’ve been trying to escape, Y/N. I’m talking about what you’ve become. You’ve been killing people. For money. How many have you—how many have you taken out for a job? How many lives have you ended?”

Her gaze faltered for just a moment before she steadied herself, her voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t want you to know. But this is my life, Jayce. This is what I do.”

“No,” Jayce shot back, his voice trembling with emotion. “This is who you’ve chosen to be. You could have stopped, Y/N. You could have walked away, but instead, you’ve kept it all a secret, lying to me the whole time.”

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging. “I didn’t want to drag you into this... I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Jayce’s chest tightened with frustration and disbelief. “How am I supposed to see you, Y/N? As the woman I thought I knew, or as a killer?”

“I’m still the same person, Jayce,” she whispered, her voice strained. “I’m still me.”

Jayce shook his head, his voice shaking now, though he tried to keep it steady. “I don’t know who you are anymore. You’re not the person I thought I was in love with. You’ve been killing people, Y/N. And I can’t—” He cut himself off, struggling to keep his composure. “I can’t be a part of this. Not like this.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and final. Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t look away. She had known this moment was coming, but now that it was here, she didn’t know how to make him understand.

“I never wanted to lose you,” she whispered.

Jayce stared at her for a long time, his heart breaking. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to make everything right again. But he couldn’t reconcile the woman he loved with the reality of what she had done. How could he?

“I can’t do this, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “I can’t love a killer.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She simply stood there, silent, the weight of his words pressing down on her.

VIKTOR

Viktor sat at his desk in the quiet of his lab, the rhythmic sound of his fingers tapping against the surface of a mechanical device he'd been tinkering with. His mind, however, was elsewhere—always elsewhere, it seemed. Thoughts of Y/N had occupied more of his time recently, more than he'd care to admit. Their moments together were filled with a sense of warmth and intimacy, but beneath it all, a question lingered in his heart: How much of her life did I truly know?

It wasn’t the first time he had noticed the occasional bruising on her arms or the subtle weariness in her eyes. The absence of certain details made him wonder, but he never pressed her on them. She was strong, capable, and fiercely independent, but it was this same strength that left him both in awe and, admittedly, in concern.

That night, the truth came in a way neither of them expected.

Y/N had walked into his lab, a rare tension in her posture. She looked like she hadn’t had a decent night's sleep in days. She had a light wound on her shoulder, one she’d probably already cleaned herself, but Viktor noticed the way she winced when reaching for something on the shelf.

“Y/N…” Viktor's voice was soft, but his gaze didn’t leave her. He’d learned to read her well enough by now, knowing when something was wrong even if she didn’t voice it.

Y/N met his eyes with a slight frown, but she didn’t hide the fatigue. “It’s nothing, Viktor. Just a scrape.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was firmer now, his steps carrying him closer to her. His gloved fingers gently traced the edge of her wound, inspecting it carefully, before his eyes lifted to hers again. “How did this happen?”

She hesitated, the weight of his gaze on her unsettling her for a moment. She’d always kept this part of her life separate from him, knowing how he would react. But she couldn’t lie anymore—not when he looked at her like that.

“I’m a mercenary, Viktor. That’s how.”

His body stiffened. The words hit him like a sudden blow, sharp and unexpected. Mercenary. He had always suspected there was more to her than the brilliant mind and the warm smiles she gave him, but to hear it out loud—mercenary—was a different kind of shock.

"You… you?" Viktor's voice trembled, not from anger but from concern and disbelief. The idea of her being involved in such dangerous work was foreign to him. “Why? Why would you—”

“Because I have to, Viktor,” she interrupted, her voice a little too sharp for his liking. She stepped back, brushing her hair out of her face, trying to hide the pain in her eyes. “Because I don’t have a choice. I can’t live off the kindness of others forever, and Piltover’s never exactly been kind to people like me, has it?”

Viktor wanted to argue, wanted to say something to take away the hardness in her tone, to remind her that she was more than just a survivor of the streets, more than just a weapon. But the words stuck in his throat.

He looked at her, at the woman he loved, the woman who had survived more than anyone should have to. His chest tightened with the realization that she was carrying burdens she had never shared with him, and for the first time, Viktor felt helpless. Helpless and afraid of what this meant for her, for them.

He reached for her hand, his fingers trembling as they clasped around her wrist. "I can't… I can’t stand the thought of you putting yourself in danger like this. You’re not just a tool or a weapon to be used. You’re—"

"Don’t you dare!" Her voice cracked, though she immediately regretted it. She pulled her wrist free from his grip, but there was no anger in her now, only the exhaustion that had haunted her for so long. "You don’t get it. I can’t just walk away from this. The world doesn’t let you do that, Viktor."

His heart clenched at the coldness in her voice. He’d always known she was strong, but now he understood the depth of her strength—how it had been forged in the fires of survival. He also knew that his love for her couldn’t change the past she carried, nor could it remove the life she had chosen.

But Viktor, in that moment, made a vow to her, even if she couldn’t see it yet. He would try. He would try to pull her out of that life, no matter how impossible it seemed. He would fight for her, fight to give her a future where she didn’t have to run through the shadows, a future where she could stand in the light.

“I won’t accept this, Y/N,” he said softly, his gaze intense with emotion. “I’ll find a way to get you out of this life. I swear it. I will not let you keep sacrificing yourself for a world that doesn’t care.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she met his gaze, the sincerity in his words cutting through the stubborn wall she’d built around herself. She’d always been alone in this, never allowing anyone to carry the weight of her decisions. But Viktor… Viktor was different. And in that moment, she realized something: Maybe she didn’t have to carry it alone anymore.

Tears blurred her vision, and she found herself leaning into him, her arms wrapping around his chest in a moment of vulnerability. “I don’t know how, Viktor. I don’t know if it’s even possible.”

“I’ll find a way,” he repeated, his voice firm with the resolve of someone who had never been afraid of the impossible.

And as he held her close, Y/N knew, deep down, that this was the beginning of a new chapter—for both of them. The road ahead would be uncertain, but with Viktor by her side, she felt the first stirrings of hope, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

"I believe you," she whispered.

JAYVIK

Viktor had always been the one to see the best in Y/N, always wanting to pull her away from the dangerous and destructive path she had walked. As a former Zaunite himself, he understood the world she came from but believed she deserved something better. His thoughts on her being a mercenary were never far from his mind, especially now that they had been sharing their lives together in Piltover.

But then there was Jayce. Jayce, with his idealism and his unwavering belief in what Piltover could become, had always seen things in black and white. To him, Y/N's role as a mercenary, her life steeped in violence, was something to be condemned. He had been pushing for a long time that she could do better, could be better, and when he found out the full extent of her work, he felt betrayed. His disappointment wasn’t just in her profession—it was in her choices, and more so in how those choices might affect their lives.

It was a particularly tense night. Y/N had just come back from a job, her hands stained with blood, and the weariness in her eyes spoke of the toll this life had taken on her. Jayce couldn't hold back any longer.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this anymore,” Jayce said, his voice tight with frustration. “This mercenary work, it’s dangerous, and you—" He paused, glancing at Viktor. "—you kill people. I can't stand by and watch this. You’re better than this. We need to do something about it.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed, but his tone was measured. “Jayce, I understand your concern, but we need to consider all options. Y/N’s lived this life for so long, and forcing her to leave it behind might not be as simple as we want it to be.”

But Jayce, his passion for justice overriding everything else, snapped, “We could hand her over to the Enforcers! They can help her, clean her hands of all this blood.”

The words hit Y/N like a blow to the chest. She hadn’t been planning on it, but hearing Jayce's proposal—so cold and impersonal—was the breaking point. She couldn’t stay here if they were going to treat her like a criminal, especially not Viktor, the one who had seen her struggles and still cared.

Without saying a word, she stood up and walked into their shared room. Viktor tried to stop her, but Jayce’s anger and the guilt that washed over him paralyzed him in place. Y/N didn’t look back. She gathered a few belongings—some clothes, her weapons, a few trinkets that reminded her of better times—and stuffed them into a small bag. She wrote a letter, her hands trembling as she penned the words:

I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, but I can’t stay in a place where I’m unwanted. I’m sorry for not telling you, Viktor. You were my strength, but I can’t live in your world if I’m a constant reminder of the things I’ve done. Jayce, I know you think this is for the best, but I can’t be part of that world. Goodbye. – Y/N.

With the letter left on the bed, Y/N moved to the window. She’d grown used to escaping through the quiet and discreet ways of the streets, even in Piltover. She slipped through the window and disappeared into the night.

=

Back in the living room, the silence between Viktor and Jayce grew heavy. Jayce's anger had faded, leaving behind only worry and regret. He stood from his chair and began pacing, his steps sharp and restless. “Where did she go?”

Viktor’s voice was quiet but firm, tinged with sorrow. “She’s gone. And we’ve lost her... or perhaps, we never truly had her the way we thought.”

Jayce’s frustration flared up again. “Now she’s gone!” he snapped, his tone sharper now. “We can’t even find her.”

Viktor stood, his posture resolute but his gaze full of regret. He moved closer to Jayce, his hands tightly clasped in front of him. “Maybe... maybe we don’t need to find her. Maybe we need to let her go.”

Jayce’s head snapped up, disbelief in his eyes. “Let her go?” His voice cracked with emotion. “After everything we’ve done? After everything we’ve been through? You’ve spent years helping her, and you’re just going to let her walk away?”

Viktor’s expression softened, and he shook his head. “What choice do we have, Jayce? We can’t force her to stay. She’s not our prisoner. She has to choose her own path, just as we’ve had to choose ours.”

The weight of Viktor’s words settled over them both, like a heavy fog. It was then that they realized the truth: they hadn’t just lost her to the conflict between Piltover and Zaun, nor to the violence of her mercenary work. They had lost her because, in their desire to protect her, they hadn’t understood her. They hadn’t truly seen the burden of the choices she’d carried for so long. In the end, they’d tried to control her when all she needed was the freedom to choose for herself.

VANDER

Vander wiped down the bar with a steady hand, the faint smell of sweat and smoke lingering in the air. His gaze flicked across the dimly lit room, watching as the last few patrons stumbled out of the door, their laughter and slurred words echoing as they disappeared into the streets of Zaun. The soft creak of the door swinging open caught his attention, and there, standing in the threshold, was Y/N. She had become a permanent fixture of his bar over the years, the kind of person who didn’t need an invitation—she just showed up, like an old friend he’d always known.

He poured a drink into a glass and slid it in front of her. She didn’t acknowledge the gesture, her eyes still focused on the space in front of her, lost in thought. But he noticed her hands, clenched tight around the glass, the way her knuckles were bruised, the way her fingers were still a little stiff from a fight she’d probably won, but at a cost.

"You're looking worse than usual," Vander finally said, his voice rough with concern as he set down the rag he’d been using to wipe the counter. His eyes narrowed on the bruise stretching along her arm, just above her elbow, a deep shade of purple that looked fresh. It was darker than any of the ones he’d seen before, and that alone made him worry more than he wanted to admit.

Y/N didn’t look up from her drink. Her fingers slid across the glass, tapping absently, but her gaze never wavered. She exhaled slowly, a puff of air that barely disturbed the stillness in the room.

"You worry too much, Vander," she replied, her voice light but not dismissive, the kind of response she always gave him when he made these observations. "It's not that bad."

Vander’s frown deepened. He leaned in, his massive frame towering over the bar, the weight of his years in the business bearing down on him. He knew what kind of work she did. He knew the dangers. But this was different. The cut on her jawline—there was a jagged, almost careless edge to it, like someone hadn’t bothered to finish the job. And the bruises were too frequent now. Too visible. He’d seen mercenaries take a beating, but not like this. Not every time. Not in the way it wore on her.

"Where the hell do you get these bruises from, love?" Vander asked, his voice rough but gentle, as he reached out to lightly run his hand over the dark marks on her arm. His touch was hesitant, tender, a stark contrast to the hardened mercenary she had become.

Y/N didn’t immediately answer. She took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the burn of the liquor, as her fingers lingered on the edge of the glass, like she was trying to steady herself. Vander didn’t rush her. He never did. She would talk when she was ready. Or not at all.

After a moment, she set the glass down with a soft clink, her gaze flickering to his but never meeting it fully. Her voice was flat, emotionless, as she spoke.

"Alright," she said, like she was finally letting something spill out, but the words didn’t come easily. "The bruises? They’re from the people I kill."

Vander’s hand froze. For the first time in years, his heart skipped a beat. He looked at her, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of her words. His chest tightened with disbelief, but he forced himself to steady his breath. This was the reality she lived, but hearing it from her—it hit differently. "You're kidding, right?" His voice was hoarse, more vulnerable than he intended.

Y/N met his gaze then, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp, almost cold. There was something in them that made him take a step back, like he was finally realizing just how far gone she was, how far she’d slipped from the girl he used to know.

"Would you rather I lie to you?" she asked, her voice almost too calm, a touch of bitterness under the surface. "I go into places where people don’t just roll over and let me take what I need. Sometimes it gets messy. But the job’s the job. And I’m good at it."

Vander’s heart sank. He’d always known she had her battles, but hearing her speak so matter-of-factly about killing—it gutted him. The weight of her words pressed heavily on him, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He’d seen her fight, seen the deadly precision she had, but this wasn’t just about skill. This was a life that left scars. Deep ones.

"And you don’t mind?" Vander asked, his voice softer now, tinged with genuine concern. "Living like that, taking lives... what’s it all for?"

The question hung in the air, and for a long moment, Y/N didn’t respond. She seemed lost in her thoughts, her gaze distant as her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of her glass. Then she spoke, quieter now, almost like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

"I don’t mind. Not really," she said, the words heavy with resignation. "It’s what I’m good at. What I’ve always been good at."

Vander exhaled slowly, trying to push down the knot that had formed in his chest. He knew. He understood. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was the truth of her world, one he couldn’t change. He’d seen too many people lose themselves to this life, and it pained him to know that Y/N, of all people, had gotten caught in its web.

"You might be good at it," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "but you don’t have to live like this forever."

Y/N chuckled softly, though the sound was bitter, the corners of her mouth twitching but not quite forming a smile. "Maybe not forever. But for now? It’s what keeps me going." Her gaze met his again, this time filled with a quiet sadness, a resignation that she wore like a second skin. "You’re right, though. It catches up to you. But what else is there? What else is there when you’ve spent so long down this path?"

Vander didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t. She wasn’t asking for salvation, wasn’t seeking redemption. She was just surviving. And that reality hit him harder than any punch she’d ever taken. She was caught in a cycle, one he had no idea how to break, even though he wanted to.

"One of these days, it’s gonna catch up to you," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of all the years he’d spent watching people slip through his fingers, knowing they’d never find peace. "You can’t outrun it forever."

Y/N didn’t flinch at his words. Her gaze remained steady, as though she had already accepted it all. She didn’t look afraid, didn’t look like she was trying to escape the inevitable. She simply nodded, her face unreadable. "Maybe. But when that day comes, I’ll be ready."

It was the answer he had feared, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from hoping. Vander let out a long, defeated sigh, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. He knew she wouldn’t change—not like this. Not unless something finally made her stop.

"Just be careful, kid," he said softly, the concern in his voice undeniable, the ache of a man who had seen too much loss. He rested his hand on the counter, his fingers tapping lightly as his gaze followed her every move.

Y/N gave him a small, fleeting smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes but was enough to let him know she appreciated his concern. It was there for a moment—just a flicker of something human before it was buried beneath her usual tough exterior. She slid off the stool, her movements efficient and practiced, like she had a thousand places to be.

Vander watched her, knowing this wasn’t a goodbye. She always came back.

As she reached the door, her hand resting on the handle, she glanced back at him over her shoulder, her expression softening just for a moment. "Thanks for the drink, Vander. I’ll be back tomorrow."

And then, like a shadow swallowed by the night, she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The bar was eerily quiet now, save for the soft clink of glass as Vander wiped the counter once again, his mind heavy with the conversation that had just passed. He wondered if there would ever be a day when Y/N’s past wouldn’t haunt her, when the blood she had spilled would finally stop following her.

But deep down, he knew—she had already made her peace with it. And all he could do now was wait, hoping that someday, she would find a way out before it was too late.

SILCO

The air was thick with tension as Y/N and Silco walked down the darkened streets of Zaun, their boots echoing against the damp concrete. They were out on business, making a quiet exchange of information and goods, but the unsettling feeling that always accompanied the underbelly of the city lingered in the air. The smell of rust, oil, and the faint odor of decay was a constant in the heart of Zaun, but to Y/N, it was nothing new.

Silco walked beside her, always keeping a few steps ahead, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. There was something about the way he carried himself, the dangerous aura that surrounded him like a shield. He was a leader, the face of Zaun's rebellion, but in moments like this, away from his empire, there was something softer, more personal in the way he interacted with her. He was kind, in his own way, though he never let his guard down fully.

"You always know how to make an exit," he said, his voice a low murmur as they turned a corner, heading toward a less familiar part of Zaun. "I can't say I'm not impressed."

Y/N smiled, her lips curling up slightly. "I’ve been doing this long enough to know how to keep people from getting too close."

The light from the street lamps cast long shadows, and Y/N couldn't help but notice how they highlighted the contours of Silco’s face. The sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows as he scanned the area—it was the face of a man who was constantly at war, both internally and externally. But tonight, there was something different about him. His gaze lingered on her longer than usual, and for a fleeting moment, she felt an unfamiliar warmth in his eyes.

She quickly shook the thought away, dismissing it as just the danger of the city making her mind wander. But even as she tried to focus on the task at hand, something about Silco’s presence affected her in ways she couldn't explain.

Before she could process the thought, a noise broke the silence. Heavy footsteps and muffled voices. The kind of sounds that signaled an ambush. Y/N’s instincts kicked in immediately, her hand reaching for the dagger at her belt. It was too quiet, too calculated. Whoever they were, they had been waiting for them.

“Stay close,” Silco murmured, his posture shifting as he prepared for the inevitable. His voice had changed, quieter now, but still commanding. The tone he used when he wasn't giving orders, but when he was preparing for something personal.

Y/N gave a small nod, her fingers now wrapped tightly around her blade. There was no need for more words. They had worked together long enough to know their roles—her as the silent predator, him as the strategist, always watching from the back with a plan already forming in his mind.

A group of men, cloaked in shadow and armed with crude weapons, emerged from the dark alley ahead, blocking their path. They had been expecting trouble, but the sight of these men still made Y/N's stomach tighten. They were too many, too brazen.

"What’s this, a little surprise party?" she asked coolly, her voice calm, almost playful. It was a tactic, a way to keep the attackers off balance. But it also helped her hide the cold calculation that ran through her veins in moments like this.

The men smirked, their confidence growing at the sight of Silco standing there, calm but still very much a threat. They probably thought they could take both of them, with their numbers on their side. But Silco’s eyes flicked to Y/N, sensing the change in the air. He had always known her reputation—how deadly she could be—but tonight, there was something more. Something darker.

=

Without warning, Y/N moved. She was a blur of motion, swift and efficient. In seconds, she was upon the first man, her dagger slicing through his throat before he even had time to react. Blood splattered across the ground, painting the pavement in an ominous red. But Y/N didn’t flinch. She was a force of nature, her movements fluid, practiced, like a deadly dance she had performed a thousand times. Her strikes were precise, never a wasted motion. She never hesitated.

The remaining men charged, but they were no match for her speed and precision. One by one, they fell. Y/N was everywhere at once, her blade cutting through the chaos like a whisper of death. She had no time for their weakness, no patience for their feeble resistance. A twist of her wrist sent another attacker crumpling to the ground, gasping for breath as the life left his body.

The last man, his face pale with fear, tried to flee. But Y/N was faster. She caught him by the arm, spinning him around before slamming her knee into his stomach. The air left his lungs in a strangled gasp. She didn’t let go, keeping him close as she gave him a final, merciless twist of her wrist. His body went limp, his eyes wide in shock.

Silco stood back, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the entire exchange with a detached sort of interest. His eyes never left her. He had always known she was dangerous, but seeing it firsthand—the ease with which she killed, the beauty in her efficiency—it unsettled him in a way he hadn’t expected. There was something about her that seemed untouched by the violence she wrought, a calmness in her cruelty that intrigued him. It wasn’t just that she was effective—it was how she moved through it all, as if it were second nature. He couldn’t help but wonder, with a flicker of unease, if she had become too accustomed to this life.

Y/N wiped the blood off her blade, her expression unreadable, but there was something colder in her gaze as she surveyed the bodies. The adrenaline was still coursing through her, but she held it in check. She knew how to remain controlled, how to mask the fleeting emotions that bubbled beneath the surface. It was what kept her alive.

Silco took a step closer, his boots clicking lightly on the pavement. He was no longer the cold, calculating leader. There was a quiet admiration in his eyes as he took in the aftermath.

“You’re... quite the sight, Y/N,” he said, his voice laced with something that was neither admiration nor fear, but something deeper—something that went beyond the mercenary he had always known. “I didn’t expect this, not from you.”

Y/N met his gaze, her heart still racing from the fight. She didn't respond right away, her focus still lingering on the men who had dared to cross them. She had learned long ago that silence spoke volumes. But this time, the silence between them was heavier. It was as if she had revealed more of herself than she ever had before.

Silco's voice softened, his tone lowering in a way that felt oddly intimate. “I always knew you were capable, but to see it like this... I didn’t expect you to be so... cold.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to him, and for the first time, she allowed herself to meet his gaze with something more than the icy mask she usually wore. “Cold, huh? Maybe. Or maybe I just know how to handle myself,” she replied, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of her lips. There was a quiet confidence in her voice, the kind that came from years of surviving the worst of Zaun.

Silco was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching hers as if trying to understand something he had never noticed before. It was as though a door had been opened, revealing a side of her that he hadn’t seen. He had always known she was strong—her reputation alone was enough to prove that—but this... this was something else entirely.

He took a step closer, his voice soft but steady. “You are more than you let people see, Y/N.”

Her heart skipped a beat. His words lingered in the air between them, hanging like a heavy fog. She met his gaze, her breath catching for a moment as she sensed the weight of his words. There was a vulnerability in his eyes now, a crack in the armor that she had never seen before. Something unspoken passed between them, a shared understanding of the darkness that each of them carried.

Before she could respond, he stepped back, his mask slipping back into place with an ease that made her wonder if he had ever let it fall. He gave a small nod, his usual cool demeanor settling back into place.

“We should go,” he said, his voice now colder, as if the moment had never happened. But Y/N knew better. She could feel the shift, the unspoken bond that had formed between them in the heat of battle. It was a quiet understanding, a recognition of the darkness that existed in both of them. And for the first time, it seemed like Silco wasn’t the only one who had seen it.

Y/N nodded, her eyes lingering on him for just a moment longer than she intended. There was a connection between them now, something deeper than friendship, but neither of them was ready to acknowledge it. As they turned to leave, their footsteps in sync, the bond that had been forged in blood and violence grew just a little bit deeper, like a secret neither of them was ready to share.

But as they walked off into the night, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder just how long it would take before the truth between them would finally come to light.

JINX/POWDER

Y/N’s boots hit the cold concrete of the alleyway as she moved swiftly, her breath visible in the cool night air. A job was a job, and this one was no different. The target was a high-ranking official from Piltover—a man with more than enough dirt on him to make his life miserable. Y/N had learned to ignore the whispers of morality, focusing only on the coin and the fact that she needed to survive.

But the night was anything but quiet. She had known that Jinx would be nearby. The chaotic girl was always lingering around the edges, always popping up when things were about to go sideways. Y/N wasn’t worried. Jinx was a friend, albeit a strange one, and she’d learned to expect the unpredictable from her.

She crouched down behind some crates, eyes trained on the man in question. One clean shot—that was all it would take. But as she readied herself, a faint giggle echoed from somewhere behind her. Without turning around, she sighed.

“Jinx, you’re not supposed to be here,” Y/N muttered, still focusing on her target.

“Oh, come on!” Jinx’s voice rang out, gleeful and full of energy as she swung around a corner, wearing her usual psychotic grin. “What’s the fun in sneaking around if you’re not going to let me play?”

Y/N turned her head just as she pulled the trigger, the silenced shot ringing out before the target crumpled to the ground, dead.

Jinx’s wide eyes sparkled with pure excitement. She bounced over to Y/N, crouching beside her as she inspected the fallen man’s body. “Holy crap! You really did it! You just… killed him! Just like that! Boom! POW!”

Y/N wiped her hands off, watching the target’s life slip away. It wasn’t her first, nor would it be her last. “Yeah,” she said calmly, standing up. “That’s the job. And you're not supposed to see this.”

Jinx didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, her eyes gleamed with pure enthusiasm as she flitted from one side of Y/N to the other. “So, how many people have you killed? Like, a million? A hundred? A thousand? Ooooh! Do you do it with knives? Or guns? Or bombs?” She grinned wickedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Is it like a game for you? Do you get all excited and giggly like me?”

Y/N paused for a moment, unsure how to respond to the wild questions coming from Jinx. But the girl's curiosity was as boundless as her chaos, and she had to admit, it was kind of refreshing. She’d been living this life for so long, and nobody had ever really asked her about it like this.

“Not a million,” Y/N said, shrugging slightly. “More than a hundred, though. Sometimes I use knives—close range. Sometimes guns—long-range. And sometimes I use explosives, but that’s only for specific targets. I try not to make a mess. It’s easier that way.”

Jinx let out a squeal of delight, clapping her hands together. “Oooh, messy or clean, it’s ALL fun!” She paused, thinking, before peering up at Y/N with wide eyes. “Do you do it for fun, or is it like, a job? Do you ever feel bad about it? You know, like, ‘Oops, did I really kill that guy?’ or is it just like… BOOM! That’s what happens when you mess with me?”

Y/N thought about it for a second. “It’s a job. And no, I don’t feel bad. People who need to die usually don’t leave much room for second thoughts.”

Jinx seemed to take that in, then tilted her head. “Yeah, I get that! I’m the same way! You can’t just play around with people who don’t deserve it, right?” She grinned, clearly relishing the thought. “But still, it’s so cool that you just… do it. Like, you make it look easy. You’re like a real-life hero in your own story!”

Y/N chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “I’m no hero, Jinx. Just a mercenary.”

Jinx pouted for a moment, then bounced on her feet again, full of excitement. “Well, you’re my hero! You know that? You’ve got all the cool moves and make it look all smooth! I wanna be just like you when I grow up—except with more explosions! BOOM!”

Y/N’s lips curled into a smile despite herself. “Maybe you should leave the explosions to you. But if you ever need a lesson in making it clean…” She raised an eyebrow. “I could teach you a thing or two.”

Jinx’s eyes widened like saucers, and she nodded eagerly. “YES! Teach me, teach me! I wanna be a mercenary! We’ll be a team, Y/N! You and me, taking down bad guys, making things explode, and making everything go KA-BOOM!”

With that, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a bit lighter than she had in a while. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who lived in this world of violence and chaos after all.

[rhiannonsknife]

I’ve never seen someone write Jackie and Rhiannon like you do! They’re such complex characters and you do an amazing job capturing that, even in just a one shot. Just wanted to tell you that I love your blog!

If you’re still taking requests, would you mind writing a Jackie one where her and the reader come out as a couple at Doomcoming like Tai and Van did? Maybe they’ve been together for awhile but Jackie wasn’t ready to come out until then? I think a plane crash would really put things into perspective lol!

-🦈

── MEET ME IN THE WOODS TONIGHT

— summary: doomcoming with jackie taylor.

— warnings: fluff. implied internalized homophobia. secret relationship. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

the makeshift decorations sway in the breeze, the clearing glows with warm lantern light and, despite everything, despite the crash, the wilderness, and the gnawing hunger, there’s laughter.

for the first time in weeks, the mood is light, almost joyful in a way that’s more genuine than anything any of you have experienced since the plane went down.

you stand near jackie, your shoulder brushing hers just so as you watch the others dance. she looks beautiful tonight, as she always does: her crown of wildflowers slightly askew, her cheeks flushed from the drinks misty’s been passing around. she’s smiling, but you know her too well to think she’s as carefree as she looks: jackie has always been good at pretending.

you’ve been together for months now, sneaking touches and stealing kisses when no one is looking your way. she had made one thing clear from the start: no one could know. she’d framed it as self-preservation. “it’s not that i don’t care about you,” jackie had said one night, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “i just…i don’t want to make things harder for us out here”

so, you learned to love the mask she wears just as much as the girl jackie is beneath all her pretense.

you’d understood, or tried to; her fears weren’t all baseless. she was used to control, to the certainty of her old world where she’d been whs’ golden girl, the one everyone admired. out here, though, her carefully constructed image had been crumbling from the start. the others had turned on her in subtle ways; side glances, muttered comments, the slow loss of respect. she couldn’t risk giving them more fuel.

now, as you’re watching taissa and van kiss in front of everyone, something seems to shift.

it’s not a grand declaration; they just kiss, laughing against each other’s lips like they’re the only two people in the world. the group doesn’t stop them. some cheer, but no one judges. it’s all…normal. contrary to the events of the past weeks, but normal.

you glance sideways at jackie, expecting her to look away or maybe make a comment to cover her discomfort. but she’s watching them, just as everyone else is, her eyes wide, her expression both soft and unreadable. there’s no jealousy there, either, no scorn. just a quiet longing that makes your chest ache.

“jackie?” you ask gently, leaning closer so only she can hear.

she blinks, pulling herself back to reality, and gives you a shaky smile. “it’s nothing,” she assures quickly.

“are you sure?” you press, keeping your voice soft. “you can talk to me, you know?”

jackie’s smile falters. for a split second, she looks like she might say something. but then she shakes her head, looking away. “come on! let’s dance!”

you follow her to the makeshift dance floor, letting her spin you around with surprising enthusiasm. the two of you laugh, swaying surrounded by the other girls. for this short while, it’s easy to forget everything that comes with the looming uncertainty these days. but then jackie slows, her movements faltering as her gaze locks on yours.

“what?” you ask, unable to brush it off this time.

she hesitates, her hand tightening around yours. “i just…” she glances over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowd. no one’s looking at you, their attention scattered all across the clearing. jackie takes a shaky breath. “i don’t want to hide anymore,”

“jackie, you don’t have to-“

she cuts you off by cupping your face and pressing her lips to yours, as easy as it would only ever come to her behind closed doors and the comfort of knowing you’re unseen. the kiss starts tentative, like the very first time jackie had kissed you, with her hands trembling against your cheeks. when you don’t pull away, when you lean into her, your own hands finding her waist, she deepens it. it’s soft and warm and open, jackie’s lips moving with a kind of desperation that you feel all the way to your core.

the entire world around you fades, you don’t hear the murmured conversations and laughter that surround you. all you can feel is jackie, her hands moving to your shoulders, her thumbs brushing your jawline. when she finally pulls back, her cheeks are tinted in the softest shade of pink.

“jackie,” you whisper, breathless, your forehead resting against hers still, hesitant to withdraw.

“i mean it,” she murmurs, the side of her nose nudging yours. “i don’t want to hide anymore. not with you!”

her gaze flickers shyly to the other yellowjackets around you.

there’s a moment of quiet as the others catch on, realizing what they’ve just seen. it’s van’s loud whoop that breaks the silence. when jackie looks back at you, there’s something new in her eyes. relief, maybe, or pride.

you smile at her, your fingers squeezing her waist through the fabric of her dress. “i guess the plane crash really did put things into perspective, huh?”

jackie laughs softly. “yeah. something like that.”

she doesn’t step back. if anything, she moves closer, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips as you rest your chin atop her head and pull her into your embrace.

“come with me,” she murmurs eventually.

your heart skips. “where?”

jackie’s smile turns coy. she doesn’t answer, instead she takes your hand and leads you away from the group. the warmth of the fire gives way to the cool darkness of the woods, and then, once you reach it, the cabin door creaks behind you.

inside, the room is dim, for once completely empty with the team still celebrating outside. jackie turns to face you, her eyes catching yours in the low light. she doesn’t say anything, but the way she steps closer, her free hand reaching for the back of your neck, speaks volumes.

when her mouth finds yours this time, it’s slower, deeper, her movements no longer tentative. it’s not just about showing something to the others now. it’s about you, and her, and everything that had been unspoken until now.

jackie steps closer then, backing you up until you hit the wall. her hands move to your neck, fingers sliding into your hair. the full length of her body presses against yours, caging you in as the kiss deepens.

for months, she had to hide her desire for you. now that it’s all out in the open, it’s like a dam has broken. jackie kisses you desperately, all the pent-up longing of the last poured into the collision of your mouths.

you can’t help but gasp, struggling to keep up with the demanding motion of jackie‘s lips. they trail from your mouth, down the side of your neck, nipping and kissing hungrily as her hands tug impatiently on the fabric of your clothes.

“jackie” you pant with your head tossed back against the wall. “we- we’re still-”

she pins you harder to the door, one of her legs slipping between yours. for a moment you allow yourself to get lost in the friction against your center, your hips rutting back and forth instinctively.

then, finally, you repeat, “jackie!”, breathless when she breaks away from you. her hazel eyes are dark, her chest heaving with the force of breath.

“did i do something wrong?” she asks, her voice quieter now, a hint of insecurity threading through the haze that’s come over you both. “i’m sorry, we don’t have to-“

you cut her off before jackie can overthink it.

your hand finds hers, squeezing just enough to ground her. the others could come in at any second, loud and stumbling, forcing you back to your new ‘normality’. you don’t want to forget this, don’t want to let the moment pass.

“attic. now”

you’re on top of her. chest to chest with a bare body that arches up against yours to meet you halfway.

jackie’s arms are draped over your neck, her ankles locked around your waist, pulling you in close. impossibly close, because you don’t think it’s possible to be any nearer unless you merged into her completely, lost yourself in the press of her skin, the curves of her body against yours. maybe that’s exactly what she wants. maybe that’s what you both need.

to forget where one ends and the other begins.

your clothes are scattered all around the makeshift bed you’re sharing. her dress, neat and beautiful, crumpled up on the dusty attic floor alongside your own.

it’s the most intimate you’ve ever been together: in all the months you’ve spent dating in secrecy, you never got jackie like this. you’ve imagined it, sure, pictured her at the absolute crack of dawn after making sure the other girls were definitely asleep, with a hand shoved down your pants. but even your poor attempts at masturbation in this absolute hellscape could never compare to having her underneath you.

you know, from the occasional stories she’d tell you -secrets, exchanged in hushed whispers- that jeff hasn’t either. that she was never quite ready to go all the way with him, never felt comfortable enough to.

with you, that has changed. jackie seems very comfortable now. she’s reassured you at every shy check-in between layers of clothing slipping away: “are you sure?” you’d asked when your fingers pushed up the hem of her dress. “is this still okay?” as you struggled with the clasps of her bra.

now, with the restrictive clothes gone, her lips are everywhere; against your own, the side of your neck, wandering as low as they’ll go in your current position, never getting past the swell of your breasts. jackie pulls you in absentmindedly and traces soft lines up your naked spine as her lips move down your throat. one of her hands finds yours, threading your fingers together.

this is different from all the stolen moments and careful touches you’ve shared so far. there’s no fear of being heard, no risk of being interrupted. jackie is different, every soft sound raw in a way she’s never been capable of before.

her hands roam with purpose, memorizing every single inch of your skin. her mouth traces a path from your collarbones to your shoulder as she whispers “i need you” with both her eyes closed. you can’t stop your hips from grinding into her all over again, bare skin sliding together.

you break away, blinking down at where jackie is sprawled out. “are you sure?” you manage. she bites her lip, but nods determinedly.

for months, she’s been so focused on what she should need -the validation, the approval, the status- that she’s almost forgotten how the simple act of being wanted feels like.

“okay...okay”

jackie strokes over your bare shoulders, her thumbs digging into the skin there. “can i-“ she begins, blushing under your attentive gaze. “can i touch you?”

when you nod, she brings both of her hands up to your chest. you exhale shakily. this is all so new, so sweet, even in the mess that you’re in. it’s a blur of shy touches and breathy murmurs of approval, and, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re happy. truly, undeniably happy. happy that it’s jackie. happy that she’s the one you get to share this with.

her thumb brushes over your nipple and you arch your back forward, a quiet moan drawn from your lips. the floorboard creaks under the weight shift and you laugh into each other’s mouths.

“you like that?”

your eyes flutter shut and you manage another nod. as if to test it, jackie repeats the motion, applying just the right amount of pressure.

“oh-“ you gasp, your full body shuddering.

jackie smiles, satisfied. she leans up again, her hips jerking against your leg as she moves to press kisses to the hollow of your throat while simultaneously playing with your nipples. only when she lets out a soft noise of her own, do you realize that your thigh is pressing right between hers with the way your bodies have moved together.

momentarily caught off guard, you breathe out and jackie opens her eyes to look up at you. eager to get a similar reaction out of her, you experimentally flex the muscles against jackie’s cunt, grinding carefully. her hands grasp the thin sheets beneath her body instantly, her fingers curling up in the fabric tightly. her head falls back as she gasps: “oh my god”

“does that feel good?” you drop one hand to hold her hip.

jackie nods, her jaw slack when she gives her hips a couple of gentle rolls, dragging her wetness over the length of your leg. you watch in awe when the first actual moans spill from her lips, her voice unusually high-pitched.

you press your forehead against jackie's again, anchoring yourself to her like you're afraid of losing this moment the second there's space between you. her breath is warm but uneven, ghosting over your lips as she tilts her head, her fingers threading through your hair to pull you closer.

her open mouth brushes yours, barely, just enough to make you dizzy and press your lips to hers.

the temperature around you is rising steadily as jackie moves against your body, your breathing tangling together.

this is better than anything you’ve ever imagined already, but it is not enough.

“jackie,” you whisper. immediately, she stops the movements altogether, her brows raising in concern.

“are you okay?”

her attentiveness makes you smile. “more than okay, i just-“ you bite your lip. “i want more,”

“oh”

“is that okay?”

jackie smiles in response, shifting backwards and maneuvering you both into a new position. after some more rustling movement on the blankets, you find yourself kneeling face to face with her. the way jackie’s eyes fall to your bare chest doesn’t go unnoticed: they widen as if she’s still struggling to believe that any of this is really happening.

she takes your hand in hers, gently pressing it against the valley between l own breasts so you feel the racing of her heart against your palm.

“touch me,” jackie instructs. “and let me touch you too?”

suddenly, your position makes a lot more sense. you don’t have to be told twice. instead, you bite your lip and nod. “please”

both of you reposition your knees so your legs are spread wider, and jackie’s delicate fingers trace down your front. when they reach the hemline of your underwear, you watch her, catch the way her mouth falls open as her fingers brush over the wet patch on the fabric.

“you’re so wet” jackie murmurs in awe.

hearing those words from her is enough to set you into motion too. first, your jaw drops and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, painfully aware of the emptiness where you want to feel jackie the most. then, after a soft cry of “touch me,” you drop a hand between her thighs. jackie’s arousal is damp, soaking through the lace of her panties as you cup her carefully.

she moans your name, and her head falls against your shoulder while she simultaneously fumbles with your underwear and pushes it aside. you copy jackie’s motions, panting as you look down the little space that’s left between your bodies.

you don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed about the moan that falls from your lips when she finds your clit and starts circling it with her index finger.

“god, jackie-“

“it’s okay,” jackie promises, her free hand cradling the back of your head. “you- oh!”

whatever she was going to say is cut short when you press your fingertips against her clit, rubbing it the same way you know you like. judging by the sharp intake of breath through her nose, it seems to be working for jackie too.

she’s the one to pick up the pace first, rubbing quicker circles. you can feel your thighs trembling already, struggling to support the weight of your body as you try to focus on touching jackie too. her wetness glides against your fingertips, practically dripping from her. occasionally, you dip lower, where her arousal pools, so you can gather it and bring it up to jackie’s stiff clit.

when she feels you there, she leans back, her pupils dilated as she looks at you in the dim light of the attic. her fingers press against your entrance. “can i?” she breathes, sounding surprisingly pleading for someone who’s just asking to touch rather than be touched. in response, you do the same for her: a singular finger toying at her throbbing hole.

when jackie pushes two of her own into you, you immediately follow suit, shuddering as she slides in with ease. your moans mingle together in the thick air, only half aware that, if any of the others come back inside now, they will definitely hear you through the floorboards.

“more,” you whine.

jackie pulls her fingers out slowly at your request, until only their tips are still inside, then pushes them back as far as they’ll go, tearing a soft cry from the back of your throat. “oh, jackie!”

her own walls throb around your still finger -which you have almost forgotten about until you feel her squeeze it. weakly, you curl it forward against jackie’s g-spot, trying to make up for your lack of movement. her eyes roll back in her head instantly.

"oh-“ she whines softly. “oh my god-“

you manage some gentle thrusts into her before you slide in a second one. jackie easily takes it.

regardless of your efforts, she doesn’t stop moving and her thrusts don’t falter. jackie, unlike you, keeps up with ease, her fingers reaching deeper than your own ever did. when she curls them in a come hither motion, you reach for her and jackie pulls you in closer, pressing her lips against yours to stifle your sounds.

it doesn’t take long at all until you feel a knot forming in your abdomen, tightening with every press and thrust.

when you part from her to catch her eyes, there's a string of spit connecting your mouths. the sight, the sensations, the knowledge that you’re hers in a way not even the wilderness can undo is all so much, and enough to have you on the edge of the first orgasm in months.

you know exactly what it’ll take for her to finally make you cum. and, even though her touch feels too good for you to string together coherent sentences, you manage a quiet: “jackie, god, i’m close!”

jackie, bless her, seems to understand: she finds your clit with her thumb while still pumping her other two fingers into you, and rubs it just like she did before, studying your face for a reaction.

"right there!“ your head lulls back, each breath coming high-pitched and every muscle tense. your hips rock against her hand and she starts circling your clit faster, adding just the right amount of pressure.

that, and her other hand sneaking up your body to roll your nipple between two of her fingers, is all it takes.

“jackie-“ you never get to finish what you were going to say. instead, you feel your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves. a breathless moan dies in your throat when the world around you shifts out of focus and your thighs shake violently around her wrist.

just like that, you come, coating her fingers in your release as your legs give out beneath you. somewhere through the sensations, you hear jackie’s whine when your fingers slip from her, but you’re still too caught in the pleasure to really care.

finally, when it fades, you open your eyes to look up at her. jackie is panting and removes her hand from between your legs. she’s still kneeling over you but is quick to settle down in your lap now that you’re no longer holding your weight on your knees.

“here,” she pants, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as the other guides you back between her thighs. you know what to do without any more instructions: you give yourself to her, letting her use your fingers to get herself off too.

jackie slides down onto you, jaw going slack as you slip into her with ease. you hold her by the waist to support the gentle rocking motions that make the floorboards creak.

her nails dig into your skin, leaving half-moon shapes on your shoulder blades, and she cries out quietly. you watch the scene through heavy-lidded eyes while jackie rides your fingers, getting closer and closer to the sounds of skin slapping against skin. she picks up her pace until she’s practically bouncing on top of you, her chest heaving erratically.

jackie is beautiful, you knew this about her already, but -as you watch her cum- you doubt anything else could ever compare to this sight: she pulls you closer so that her mouth is right by your ear and her face is buried in the crook of your neck, repeating your name like a prayer, not stopping even as her body tenses.

her fingers clutch at you desperately, as if you're the only thing that's keeping her grounded, but she doesn't stop. doesn't let up until she's all spent and collapses into your arms. you hold jackie through it, pressing your lips to her temple, your hands steady where she needs them most.

it takes long until you’ve both fully recovered. neither of you recalls how you ended up lying in the messy sheets, with jackie’s head resting on your chest and your fingers combing through her hair. she has her arm draped over your waist, gently stroking across your side. you don’t speak.

eventually, she shifts, pressing her face further into your chest. “we should probably go back down,” jackie murmurs, though she makes no effort to move.

you hum. “do you want to?”

she’s quiet for a moment before shaking her head. “not yet,”

you smile, letting your hand settle on her back. “then we won’t,”

[whizzing-fizzbee]

I have a doozy of a work week coming up, so I don't anticipate having much time to write. So enjoy this little Valentine's Day angst-fluff-smut combo I’ve been sitting on for a while. Thank you for reading and have a splendid Valentine's Day if you celebrate - regardless, you are loved! ❤️

XOXO, Anonymous

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, profanity); all characters are 18+ Words: 6,323 Tags: friends to lovers, Valentine's Day, love letters, misunderstandings, mutual pining, angst, fluff, Seb is extra stupid in this one

Summary: Sebastian Sallow has been hopelessly in love with Annalisa Lark since the day they met during fifth year. So when he discovers a love letter to Ominis seemingly sent from her, he begins a downward spiral. Once the truth comes out, he'll realize actions sometimes speak louder than words.

Notes: This one's split into two parts in case you want to skip the smut. Part I is angst and fluff. Part II is smut. All characters are 18-year-old seventh years. MC in this one is a Ravenclaw named Annalisa Lark.

Read on AO3 or both parts below the cut.

Part I

Sebastian Sallow trudged into his dormitory, exhausted after a particularly grueling quidditch practice. The room was empty, presumably because all his roommates were already elbow-deep in their dinners. 

Sebastian would have gone straight to the Great Hall to join them, but he’d been neglecting a Potions essay that was due in the morning. He just needed to grab a book and he’d head to the library for a few hours of writing.

Except Sebastian’s Potions book was nowhere to be found. He cursed under his breath as he realized he’d left it in the locker room. With no desire to make the trek all the way back to the quidditch pitch, Sebastian decided he’d merely borrow Ominis’ book. Surely Ominis had completed the essay ages ago.

The book sat on the desk next to Ominis’ bed, resting on its back atop a neat stack of parchment. Sebastian picked it up and moved to gather some parchment and quills of his own when a folded sheet slipped from the book’s pages. It fluttered to the floor and landed face-up, open, as if its contents were meant to be seen.

Typically, Sebastian wouldn’t dare read his friend’s mail. He would never willingly violate Ominis’ trust, not after it had taken him two years to regain it after the events of fifth year. But a few choice words scrawled on the parchment caught Sebastian’s eye as he bent down to retrieve it. He paused, his hand hovering above the letter until he finally gathered the nerve to pick it up and read it.

His tired pout morphed into a full-fledged frown.

Dearest Ominis,

Your last letter made me smile. You have such a way with words that I always find myself re-reading your letters over and over again. I hope they never stop, even if we can one day be together.

Speaking of, have you given any further thought to discussing our potential relationship with Sebastian? I know you’re worried it could sever your friendship, but please don’t. He cares about both of us far too much, and I truly believe he merely wants to see us happy.

I love you, Ominis. I love you, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. After everything that happened to me during fifth year, I’ve realized life is far too short to be separated from the ones we love.

Please give what I said some more consideration. See you soon.

XOXO, A.

It took a moment for Sebastian to realize his hands were shaking. His palms were sweating and his stomach churned. He couldn’t even pinpoint which emotion had taken charge of his body – disbelief, surely, but what about the betrayal? And the pain… my god, the pain. It slammed through Sebastian’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

He read it again. Call him a masochist, but he had to be sure he understood correctly. He prayed his eyes had somehow managed to trick him, that it had all been a projection of his own deepest fears, or perhaps some cruel prank Ominis cooked up.

But Ominis wasn’t a prankster. And he would never joke about something as complex as Sebastian’s feelings – not when it came to her. Or so he thought. 

Sebastian had loved Annalisa Lark since the day she absolutely dismantled him during a duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She was stunning to him in every sense of the word, and while their friendship was sometimes turbulent, Sebastian flocked to her like children to candy. He’d never admit to it, though. The only person who seemed to understand was Ominis.

But now, it seemed Ominis understood more than he’d let on. Sebastian stilled himself, the letter still in his hand. Had his best friend really stolen the love of his life? Perhaps that was a bit dramatic. She wasn’t Sebastian’s to steal. He was certain she didn’t even have those kinds of feelings for him. Still, surely Ominis knew about that unspoken gentlemen’s rule about not romancing your best friend’s love interest.

Sebastian’s shock shifted to fury. His conniption swelled as he mulled the situation over. His best friend had swooped in on her. The one and only girl he couldn’t bear to lose. 

He had to toss the letter aside to stop himself from crumpling it into a ball. Knives clouded his vision. He could choke Ominis until the life left his eyes. She said she loved him. She told Ominis the only words that could likely save Sebastian from a tragic demise.

And worst of all, they’d kept their romance a secret from him. They didn’t deem him worthy of sharing their secret. They thought it’d be easier to keep him out of their equation. He wasn’t meant to be a part of their secret society. 

Sebastian sank onto his bed, his gaze wavering in and out of focus. He didn’t know what to do. Should he storm down to the Great Hall and demand answers from them? Should he keep quiet and pretend he didn’t know? Should he make a last-ditch effort love declaration in hopes of stealing Annalisa back to her rightful place?

All of those options made sense in Sebastian’s mind, but Sebastian Sallow rarely made sense when it came to the most important matters of the heart.

Dinner and Potions essays be damned, Sebastian decided to retreat to the Undercroft.

---

“Sebastian! There you are.” 

For the first time in nearly three years, Sebastian was dismayed to find Annalisa in the Undercroft. She was curled up on a sofa she’d conjured during their fifth year, a book open across her lap.

Even from where he stood, Sebastian could see it was a romance novel. She was always reading those, as if she enjoyed the escapism into a world of longing stares and declarations of desire. She didn’t know she was living inside one of those novels; though this one was currently creeping toward an angst-ridden, tragic ending as far as Sebastian was concerned. The trope of his life was morphing from secret pining to the one that got away.

“There you are,” Sebastian replied. It was their routine greeting, a symbol of their bond since they were fifteen. Even in crisis, he wouldn’t stray from it. He needed its familiarity. 

“Where’ve you been?” Annalisa asked curiously as she shifted to one side of the sofa to make room for him.

“Quidditch practice.”

“Did you eat? I didn’t see you at dinner. I have some apples in my bag.”

Sebastian shook his head as he took the other half of the sofa. His posture betrayed him. He typically slouched into his seat, his knees parted while his hands absentmindedly twirled his wand. But tonight, he was rigid, his spine far too stiff and straight to fool her. “I’m not hungry.”

Annalisa frowned, her book now forgotten as she set it aside. “Since when have you ever turned down a meal?” she demanded with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian lied.

Annalisa scowled at him. “Sebastian Edward Sallow, do not play with me.”

Sebastian nearly barked a laugh at the irony of it all. If anything, she was the one playing with him; sneaking around behind his back with his own best friend, penning him passionate love letters while Sebastian had been none the wiser. 

He wanted to be disgusted with her, to lash out and demand answers. He wanted her to know how hurt he was by her decision to omit him from such a significant portion of her life. Even if she didn’t choose him, she could have at least filled him in on her stirring new romance – especially since it involved their mutual best friend.

But Sebastian could never be repulsed by her, even if he felt slighted. She was too much of all the good things Sebastian admired in life – a stunning little spitfire compressed into five feet of fearless conviction. She was compassionate and complex; she didn’t view the world in black and white the way so many others preferred to. She understood the frayed seams between good and evil and light and darkness. 

That realization was the moment Sebastian was certain he loved her. She stood by him after Solomon’s death and offered him unwavering support, because she knew the nuances of right and wrong. She had blood on her hands, too. The difference in their bloodshed was hers was an effort to quell darkness; Sebastian’s bloodshed had embraced it.

Still, Annalisa understood Sebastian at a level that transcended mere friendship, and because of that, Sebastian had grown certain she was his soulmate. But now, he wasn’t sure he knew her at all.

“Sebastian…” Annalisa was still peering at him expectantly. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted, his tense posture still exposing his discomfort. “I’m just exhausted, is all. 

Annalisa opened her mouth, fully prepared to interrogate him into a confession, but the entrance to the Undercroft clanged open again, revealing Ominis’ arrival. Sebastian stiffened even more.

“Ominis!” Annalisa greeted. “Sebastian here was just about to tell me why he’s so moody.”

“Sebastian, moody? I can’t imagine,” came Ominis’ dry reply.

Sebastian was in no mood for teasing remarks. Not when he was the third wheel to the two people he thought he trusted most. His irritation surged, and before he could suppress it, he was on his feet.

“I’ll just leave you two to it then, yeah?” he snapped. 

“Sebastian, what-” 

Sebastian brushed past a stunned Ominis and sulked from the Undercroft.

---

Sebastian hated Valentine’s Day. What a stupid, sordid excuse of a holiday, he thought. He slouched over his corner of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall as he watched his classmates exchange jovial greetings and giggles over romantic gifts. It was positively nauseating. The arrival of Ominis taking the seat across from him didn’t sweeten the day.

“Brooding in the corner on Valentine’s Day,” Ominis mused. “How very cliche of you.” Sebastian didn’t reply. Ominis sighed and set his stack of books on the table between them. “Going to share with the class what’s had you so bent out of shape?”

Again, no reply. Ominis was no stranger to Sebastian’s tempestuous moods. They always became particularly stormy when Annalisa was inundated with attention from their classmates. Today, she sat at the Ravenclaw table with a short stack of valentines and an assortment of sweets surrounding her. Truthfully, Sebastian could cope with that – he’d witnessed their classmates’ attempts to court Annalisa on countless occasions. He was used to that. He wasn’t used to the nauseating knowledge that his own best friend was the one who had secured her heart, and in secret nonetheless. 

“Alright, mate,” Ominis sighed as he gathered his books again and stood. “But Cupid’s arrow isn’t going to find you while you’re commiserating by your lonesome self in a corner.”

As he retreated toward the doors of the Great Hall, Sebastian considered chucking a potato at his head. But something else stole his attention.

Another letter. Ominis must have left it accidentally in his haste to flee Sebastian’s orbit of agony. Sebastian snatched it off the table immediately, took a quick glance around the Great Hall, and read.

Dearest Ominis,

Happy Valentine’s Day, love! Thank you for the gorgeous flowers. They look positively stunning at my bedside. I look forward to gazing at them as the last thing I’ll see before I fall asleep. You are always the last thing on my mind at night anyway.

I am so looking forward to seeing you tonight. I hope it will be just as special for you as it is for me. See you at 7:00.

XOXO, A.

The edges of the parchment curled inward as Sebastian’s hands shook. They had a secret date planned for the night. They were going to have a romantic night together and neither of them felt any obligation to tell him. Their friendship was no longer a trio. They were a pair, plus one, single fool.

Sebastian crumpled the letter and stashed it in his pocket. He prayed Cupid would choke on a pumpkin pasty.

---

Sebastian’s sour mood didn’t stop there. It devolved by the afternoon, until all who crossed his path were at risk of a terrible lashing. 

Finally, Annalisa found him pouting beneath the Transfiguration Courtyard fountain.

“Sebastian,” she said sternly, her green eyes drilling him with impatience. “What is the matter with you? Ominis says you’re positively insufferable. What has happened?”

Of course Ominis called him that. Ominis was a treasonous, back-stabbing traitor who was too cowardly to even admit he was in love. If Sebastian had Annalisa, he’d tell the whole world, and would burn it down if anyone dared to question him.

“Ominis knows exactly what he’s done,” Sebastian snapped. 

“Clearly not,” Annalisa challenged him. “All we know is something has you upset. Stop isolating yourself and tell us. Tell me, at the very least.”

How rich. She was begging him to tell her, when she hadn’t bothered to tell him about her new little love affair.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet as he gazed at her with a pointed stare. “I’ll tell you my secret when you tell me yours.”

Annalisa blinked at him. “Secret? Sebastian, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Sebastian slipped past her to head inside the castle in search of someplace more secluded. “Then neither do I.”

He wasn’t proud of his prickly behavior. It was reminiscent of his fifth year, when his obsession with curing Anne’s curse pushed him into a manic state, void of any logic. He wasn’t that far gone now, but he certainly was allowing his emotions to control him.

Fine. If Ominis and Annalisa were so into writing silly little love letters, he’d do the same.

Sebastian retreated to his dormitory, where he was relieved to find himself alone. He sat at his desk with two blank sheets of parchment in front of him.

Ominis,

It has come to my attention that you have entered into a romantic partnership with Annalisa. To say that I feel betrayed and slighted is an understatement. I thought you were aware of my feelings regarding our mutual friend and would use better judgment. It’s clear the two of you have chosen each other over me, so consider this my resignation from our friendship.

Sebastian E. Sallow

He snatched the parchment up and crushed it in his hand. This was meant to be a deeply personal declaration of deception and distress, not a polite invitation for afternoon tea.

He tried again.

Ominis– 

I know your secret. Consider this the final fallen pillar of our friendship.

See you in hell, Sebastian

Much better. One down, one to go. But the second one wasn’t as simple. 

Sebastian was certain he could be romantic, right? He’d been on his fair share of dates, had plenty of experience with girls. In truth, he had his pick of most girls at Hogwarts. Sure, he didn’t have the family name and wealth that Ominis had to offer, but he had a bright future as an early acceptance into the Ministry of Magic’s Auror program. He was charming and intelligent, charismatic enough to sway most people he encountered to his side.

Surely he could pen one simple love letter. But for as silver-tongued as he was when it came to getting himself out of trouble or convincing his classmates to help him with various endeavors, Sebastian had no idea how to tell a girl he loved her.

He sat glued to that spot for a good hour until the reject pile of letters not good enough for Annalisa’s eyes had formed a small stack on the desktop. No words could convey what he felt for her. No words were pretty or poignant enough. 

Annalisa,

I know you’re in love with Ominis and I don’t want to stand in the way of the happiness you deserve. But if there’s any chance I could ever compete for your heart, please know that I won’t go down without a fight.

I’ve loved you since that first day in Hecat’s class. I know I haven’t made life easy on you, but loving you’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. 

Tell me I have even the slightest shot at being yours and I promise you’ll always have my full effort.

Forever yours, Sebastian

It wasn’t good enough, but it was the best he could manage. He wasn’t meant to craft eloquent prose like Annalisa’s favorite romance novels. Because this was real, not a fictional work intended to entertain the masses, and Sebastian wanted to be sure she knew that. This was his brutal honesty, raw and real.

He sighed as he decided these two letters would have to do. He pocketed Annalisa’s and placed the other on Ominis’ nightstand before slinking off to the kitchens to eat dinner in solitude.

By the time he was finished, his pocket watch indicated it was 6:30. Ominis and Annalisa would be heading off to their date soon, likely at some romantic restaurant where they could cozy up to one another away from prying eyes. Sebastian couldn’t stand to picture it.

He had originally planned to send Annalisa’s letter via owl, but impulse control was never Sebastian’s strength. So in an act of desperation, he trekked up to Ravenclaw Tower and lingered outside the common room.

In a serendipitous act of fate, Samantha Dale was just returning from dinner.

“Samantha,” Sebastian breathed in relief. The Ravenclaw stopped in her tracks and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here? Meeting Annalisa?”

“Oh, er, yes. Except I was hoping to surprise her,” Sebastian said, hoping he was convincing.

“Ooh, are you finally taking her on a date?” Samantha squealed. “It’s about time.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, but it’s a surprise. Can you let me into the common room?”

“Of course, right this way.” Samantha led Sebastian inside and gestured toward the girls’ dormitories. “Pretty sure you’ve been up here before, yes? You remember the way?”

Sebastian nodded and thanked Samantha, who continued into the common room. He strode hastily toward Annalisa’s dorm, praying she’d still be there. He knocked gently and felt his stomach contort at the sound of her voice inviting the visitor inside.

“Sebastian?” Annalisa blinked as he creaked the door open. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Sebastian was more confused than her. She was wearing pajamas and she sat up in bed, cozied beneath the covers with a book open. She certainly did not appear to be preparing for a romantic date.

“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked stupidly. Annalisa snorted.

“Sebastian, I live here.”

“But… you have a date.”

“I do? That’s news to me.”

That’s when Sebastian also realized there were no flowers on her nightstand. What was going on? Was this some sort of prank? A bizarre dream – perhaps an astral projection? He felt sick.

“But… but you and Ominis…”

Annalisa tilted her head, perplexed by the entire interaction as her eyes narrowed in concern. “Ominis? What does he have to do with this? Sebastian, what is going on? You’ve been acting so strange lately.”

“I…” Sebastian’s entire frame deflated, his shoulders slumping forward and his knees threatening to buckle. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Annalisa motioned for him to sit on the side of the bed. She watched him carefully as he did so, his hands resting atop his knees. He looked exhausted. 

“What’s this date you were talking about?” Annalisa asked as she tossed her book aside.

Sebastian sighed. There was no recovering from this. Even if he wanted to get out of this, to sweet talk her with some excuse, he knew he’d only leave with despair in his heart. “I thought you and Ominis had a date,” he said.

Annalisa looked like he’d slapped her. “You’re not serious.”

“I saw the letters. Your letters.”

“What letters?”

“The ones you wrote to Ominis.”

Annalisa felt dizzy, which was alarming because she was certain Sebastian was the one who’d gone loopy. “I didn’t write Ominis any letters,” she said. “Why would I? I see him every day. I don’t need to write him.”

Sebastian’s chest constricted. A flush crept from his neck into his cheeks. His lungs screamed for air. He didn’t understand.

“You’re not dating Ominis?”

“What?!”

Oh no. Had he really gotten it all wrong? How? He’d seen the letters with his own eyes. It all added up in his head. Had he really let himself spiral into an episode of assumptions and self-doubt? 

“Sebastian,” Annalisa continued, her voice a breath of laughter and perplexion. “What the fuck are you on about? Who told you I was dating Ominis?”

“No one told me. I accidentally saw letters written to him – love letters.”

Annalisa was clearly intrigued, another indication that she had nothing to do with said letters. “Love letters? To Ominis? From whom? And what made you think they were from me?”

“I only saw two of them, but they were both signed by the initial A,” Sebastian explained. “And one of them talked about a date tonight.”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t me,” Annalisa laughed. “This book is my hot date for the night.”

“But then, who…” 

Annalisa giggled, her eyes glinting with a facetious, knowing smile. “Sebastian, come on,” she said. “Think.”

“But I don’t-”

“Anne!” Annalisa continued.

“Anne?”

Sebastian froze as all the mental pieces shifted in his brain. Merlin. It made perfect sense – more sense than Ominis and Annalisa.

“You mean Ominis and Anne are in love?”

“Yes, silly,” Annalisa snorted. “Anyone with two eyes can see it.”

“But Ominis has two eyes and can’t s-”

“Sebastian, that’s beside the point.”

“Right, sorry. But… you knew? About them?”

“Not for sure,” Annalisa said. “But it’s always been pretty obvious that those two love each other. They share everything and they really only trust each other… they’d do anything for each other. Of course they’re in love.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa stared at him with exasperated eyes. “You really thought I’d date Ominis?”

“I mean, the two of you adore each other.”

“Yes, because we’re great friends. Surely you know we’d never consider each other romantically.”

“I didn’t think so, but then I saw those letters and… I just thought maybe I’d overlooked something between you two,” Sebastian explained.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Annalisa said. “Obviously I’m not on a hot date with our mutual friend. I didn’t have a date tonight, so I’m enjoying a cozy night in.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa’s brow furrowed as her gaze locked in on the folded parchment in Sebastian’s hand. “What’s that?”

Sebastian swallowed. There was no going back, he reminded himself. But this wasn’t how he wanted to tell her. He wanted to woo her with melodic words and grand gestures symbolic of his feelings. He wanted to make a case for himself she couldn’t refuse.

But if he had to convince her to love him, it wasn’t the right kind of reciprocation anyway. Still, his nerves were getting the best of him. 

“It’s nothing, spare bit of parchment,” he tried to say with a shrug. Annalisa shot him a look. 

“What is it?” she demanded. 

Sebastian frantically scanned his brain for the right words. He only had one shot at this. He had to get it right. 

“It’s a letter.”

“One of Anne’s letters to Ominis?”

“No. A letter from me to you.”

Annalisa tilted her head quizzically. “What do you mean? Why? What does it say?”

Sebastian averted his gaze, his eyes on the parchment in his hands. “Before I hand this to you, before I allow you to read it,” he started. “I want you to know that it was a result of a severe misunderstanding. When I thought you were in love with Ominis… I felt like I was going mental.”

“Is that why you stormed out of the Undercroft and have been sulking so much?”

“Yes.”

“Sebastian, why didn’t you just say something to us?”

“Because I thought you were trying to keep it a secret from me.”

“Why would we do that?”

“To avoid my wrath, apparently. Judging from the letters, it sounds like Anne wants me to know but Ominis is afraid to tell me.”

Annalisa’s lips curved in another knowing smile. “To be fair, I can’t say I blame him,” she said. “This is your sister we’re talking about here.”

“I know, but if there’s anyone I do trust to date my sister, it’s Ominis. He’s the only person I’d trust with her.”

“Well then, it sounds like you both have been making some inaccurate assumptions,” Annalisa mused. 

“I suppose so.” Sebastian raked a hand through his hair. “Look, when I thought you and Ominis were together, I didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sebastian,” Annalisa laughed. “I just don’t understand why it had you so upset.”

“Because I don’t handle jealousy well,” Sebastian answered.

“Jealousy? Sebastian, don’t tell me you’re struggling to find a girlfriend. You-”

It was a good thing Sebastian was absolutely smitten with Annalisa, because for as brilliant as she truly was, she could be quite dense when it came to personal matters of the heart. “I thought Ominis had taken the only person I’m interested in,” Sebastian cut in. He maintained his gaze on the parchment, terrified to watch as the understanding settled within Annalisa. 

“Sebastian,” she breathed.

“Here,” Sebastian said as he extended his arm to offer her the letter. “Now you can have this.”

Annalisa reached tentatively for the letter, as if she knew reading it would change everything. Sebastian didn’t look as he listened to her unfold it. The room fell silent as her eyes scanned his penmanship. When he heard her inhale sharply, Sebastian considered flinging himself out the window.

He wasn’t prepared for her reaction. He had long accepted the reality that she could never possibly love him mutually. She might love him as a close friend, but she’d never understand the magnitude of her presence in his life. She was more than his shoulder to lean on and partner in crime; she was the gravity that grounded Sebastian to this world. If he lost her, he’d lose the anchor that kept the sea of dysphoria from sweeping him away again.

Sebastian decided he’d start by apologizing. He’d tell her he never meant to jeopardize their bond. He hadn’t even meant to fall for her. But he wasn’t sorry for loving her. It was the most genuine emotion he had. 

Then he’d assure Annalisa that their friendship didn’t have to change. He was determined to maintain it. He’d fight every one of his emotions tooth and nail for her. She had to understand that he’d never expect anything more from her than the privilege to merely be a part of her life.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa breathed. He finally turned to look at her and was stunned to see tears welling in her eyes. “Sebastian, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not really a casual topic for dinner discussion.”

“Sebastian, really.” Annalisa sniffed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian averted his gaze again, riddled by guilt and fear. He fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket while both seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa repeated. She slipped from beneath the covers to sit next to him. Sebastian fought desperately to think about anything other than the way her silk pajamas clung to her body. “Sebastian, look at me.”

He exhaled slowly as he turned to face her, awaiting his fateful sentence. He assumed she’d let him down gently, tell him they were better off as friends. She was far too kind to raise her voice at him, though she was also fiery enough that she might slap him.

Instead, she threw her arms around him. Sebastian’s lungs deflated as he stilled, stunned by her sudden embrace. 

“Sebastian, you fool. You know I love you too,” she mumbled, her words muffled against his neck. It ignited a new heat that coursed through his limbs. He swallowed as her words clashed with the feeling of her soft lips against his skin. It was a staggering juxtaposition of sweet relief and untamed desire.

She loved him? Had he really managed to overlook that major detail in his life? Had there been signs? Sebastian blinked in disbelief. He'd orchestrated his fair share of stupid events, but this one took first place.

Annalisa closed her eyes as she continued to cling to Sebastian. “You really thought I was in love with Ominis?”

“Ominis is brilliant,” Sebastian offered with a shrug. “Girls seem to like that whole polished and proper thing he has going on.”

Annalisa snorted against his neck and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile in spite of his nerves. “Sebastian, when have I ever been the prim and proper type?” she murmured. The more she spoke and the more her lips buzzed vibrations across his skin, the more Sebastian squirmed.

“That’s true,” he answered, forcing his words until they sounded steady. “You do seem to have a proclivity for chaos and dramatics.”

Annalisa drew away just far enough to peer upward at him with a pointed gaze. Her green eyes gleamed with coquetry. “It’s not like I go looking for chaos,” she huffed. “It just seems to find me… sort of way you found me. Sometimes it’s good to attract chaos.”

“Are you calling me chaotic?”

“Are you denying it?”

Sebastian chuckled. “No. Can’t deny that.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so tense?”

“Because I just confessed to being in love with you and now you’re pressed up against me.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Oh. Oh.

“I… don’t know.” 

Annalisa offered him a bemused smirk. “Boy, Seb, between that letter and all of this, you sure have a way with words,” she teased. “Lucky for you, you won me over years ago.”

“Years?”

Annalisa rolled her eyes, her impatience evident. “Yes, years,” she said matter-of-factly. “Which is why you should have told me.”

“You could have told me!”

“And ruin the absolute spectacle of you making a fool of yourself because of a couple love letters to Ominis? Never.”

That was enough talking, enough words for one day. Sebastian had spelled it all out, albeit rather awkwardly, but the swell inside his chest made it all worth it. He finally kissed her, which told her more than any stupid letter ever could.

Part II (Smut warning)

“Sebastian,” Annalisa whimpered. “Sebastian, please.”

Her hands were presently tangled in Sebastian’s hair as her legs were tossed over his shoulders. 

Annalisa was quickly learning that Sebastian may not always have a way with words, but he was certainly skilled with his tongue. His letter to her lay on the floor, having fluttered off the bed amid the frenzy of hungry hands and greedy kisses.

“Sebastian, don’t stop,” Annalisa begged as his tongue pressed patterns over her clit. He hummed in response, certain he’d go mad by the way she begged him for more. Her whimpering pleas, the taste of her arousal and the aftermath of their declarations of love had Sebastian teetering on the edge of an insanity that could only be stoked by adoration.

Sebastian’s tongue traced tiny heart shapes across her clit until Annalisa’s thighs tensed and the pitch of her moans spiked. “Oh fuck, Sebastian!” she cried as her nerve endings seared with pleasure. Her back arched off the bed and her fingers tugged at Sebastian’s hair until her orgasm subsided, leaving her chest heaving and her entrance soaked.

Sebastian, still stunned by the day’s revelations, sat back on his heels to admire her. She wasn’t in love with Ominis – his own sister was. But he’d wrap his mind around that part of the story later. The part that mattered now was Annalisa had been his the entire time, and she was eager to prove it to him. After he kissed her for that first time, she had practically climbed into his lap until they were tearing their clothes off.

Once she had caught her breath, Annalisa sat up to pull Sebastian into a long kiss. “Stand up,” she ordered. 

Sebastian blinked. He was enthralled by this bossy new side of her. Of course, one doesn’t save the world from a goblin rebellion by being a timid pushover, but Sebastian hadn’t anticipated this level of dominance from her. It made his cock twitch desperately.

He obliged and scrambled to his feet, holding his breath as he watched Annalisa fall to her knees on the floor in front of him. She took him into her mouth and tightened her lips around his shaft. Sebastian had to lean one hand on the back of her desk chair to support his weight. The suction pulling against his cock was dizzying.

“My god,” he groaned as he gazed downward to watch her work. Her hands snaked their way to the backs of his thighs, fingers pressing into his flesh as she used only her mouth to make him moan. 

Annalisa’s lips released their vice grip to make way for her tongue. She dragged it from the base of Sebastian’s cock upward, over and around the tip, leaving it slick with saliva. Sebastian whimpered at the sight of it. 

“Annalisa, please,” he begged. “Let me have you.”

Annalisa nodded in understanding and rose to her feet to pull Sebastian into a kiss. She nudged him backward to guide him toward the desk chair. 

“Sit,” she commanded. Sebastian obeyed and dropped into a seated position. Annalisa climbed over him, hands clutching his shoulders as she lowered herself. She held her breath, astounded that her quiet Valentine’s Day was ending in such a way. Much better than any of her romance novels.

Sebastian’s fingers dug into her waist as he felt his cock make contact with her entrance. He tensed as she sank slowly, a low whine escaping her throat as she stretched around him. “Sebastian, you’re big,” she whimpered.

“Take it easy,” Sebastian said gently, though every nerve ending in his body was electrified. The scorching heat surrounding his cock was surreal.

Annalisa lifted herself and dipped downward again. The friction made both of their breaths hitch. Sebastian fought to control his body’s response while Annalisa found a steady pace, her cunt gliding over his cock until the room echoed with the sounds of their slick union.

“I love you,” Annalisa whispered, her eyes meeting Sebastian’s as she studied his expression to ensure he was content. 

“I love you too,” Sebastian growled, his hands still pressing into her sides. He marveled at her; the way her full breasts bounced, her cheeks flushed, and her tight walls embraced him. He was desperate to feel her release. He had to know how she’d feel when she collapsed on top of him, her thighs shaking and cunt swollen from the intrusion of his cock.

Annalisa’s eyes fell shut as she worked, her hips rising and grinding as she rested her palms flat against Sebastian’s chest. The chair creaked beneath them. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Sebastian breathed.

She rocked her hips and let out a sharp moan as Sebastian’s cock speared her soft, sensitive spot. “Oh, right there,” she groaned. She repeated the motion, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she lost herself in the sensation stimulating her core. “Sebastian, I’m close.”

Poor Sebastian was hanging on for dear life. His mind was presently reviewing spell patterns he’d learned in Charms class to divert his attention. He didn’t find himself in such a drastic dilemma very often, but this was pure desperation.

Annalisa slammed herself hard down onto him, driving the depths of her walls around Sebastian’s cock until she could feel the familiar flutters. She squeezed and rocked until her walls gave way to her climax, throbbing with relief as she wailed and threw her head back. She collapsed her full weight into Sebastian’s lap, allowing the tip of his cock to settle deep inside her until the final twitches of her cunt evoked his orgasm. He swore as he gripped her hips and spilled within her, earning one final moan from her.

The room’s erotic echoes were replaced with their recovering breaths. Annalisa slumped against Sebastian, her body exhausted from bouncing on top of him, and her head hazy.

Sebastian was utterly spent. His forehead rested against Annalisa’s bare shoulder as the weight of the day’s overwhelming epiphanies settled within him.

Things had taken a turn for the better; a monumental shift in events that he never could have predicted. He felt foolish and guilty for his presumptive behavior, but elated that, finally, for once, things had worked in his favor.

Annalisa was watching him with soft eyes. “Alright?” she asked. Sebastian grinned, his hands tracing light lines up and down the small of her back.

“Alright,” he answered. “Just… thinking about how mental this day was.”

“Only because you’re mental,” Annalisa said as she climbed off him and began fetching her pajamas from the floor.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said with a sheepish smile. “I guess I owe you and Ominis an apol-” He froze, his eyes widening until Annalisa drew back in alarm.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Ominis,” Sebastian said hastily as he scrambled to his feet and began redressing. “I- I wrote him a letter too. I have to go. I have to get rid of it before he sees it.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad.”

Sebastian flashed her an apologetic grin as he buttoned his shirt. “I might have told him we were no longer friends and to go to hell.”

“Sebastian!”

“In my defense, it was all for you, love.”

“It was downright foolish.”

“I know. Apologies, love. I’ll just go fetch and destroy it and then I’ll come right back, yeah?”

Annalisa sighed and crawled back into bed. “Yes, alright. I’ll be here.” 

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her forehead and sprinted back to the Slytherin dungeons.

[tacitusk1llwhore]

I’ve had some time to process and dissect it, and I just want to say Kendrick’s halftime show was a masterpiece and a wonderful piece of political art.

Having a Black man play “Uncle Sam” making the Black community feel wanted and represented within their country and community but then having said “Uncle Sam” tell those same people finding comfort in him to be good, quiet, not “ghetto.” It poked at those POC that want to conform to the White man’s wants and society, the pause before Samuel L. says “Sam.” After Uncle, pointing at himself had me and my father believing for a moment he was going to say “Tom.” Which if you’re Black or biracial (hi! That’s me!) or even just well-versed on these things you will know exactly what an Uncle Tom is in regards to the Black community. It’s just what I described and just what the character was through the show. But he is presented as more outwardly patriotic than Kendrick and the others, which again, it is a caricature of what America wants Black people to be, quiet, making no fuss, complaining when someone of their community does, to get that White validation. It was genius.

The song choice, the theme of America being a game, with “wrong way.” After the first statement of “the revolution will be televised” and “game over” after Kendrick started to play louder, more fast-paced music, insinuating that when POC fight back, they are ultimately successful, but it can’t be calm or peaceful, America is not perfect and doesn’t listen until they have to. Also, singing a song about a pedophile in front of a pedophilic president is just absolute gold.

I’ve seen a lot of “it’s not that deep, it’s just a halftime show.” And it drives me crazy because it’s all from white men who have no idea about any of the symbolism in the show. Many Black and biracial people grew up with grandparents or parents that grew up in segregation, heard the stories and the warnings, but also the outcome of the movements. So no Simon….it wasn’t just a halftime show!! The ���sometimes the curtains are just blue.” Will continue to spout that even if the backside of the curtains is bright red, they never investigate enough to see that. Sure, not everything has a super deep meaning, but that show certainly did. If you didn’t see it, you’re either lying to yourself or have so little media literacy that you won’t even be able to read this.

Not to mention the diversity and celebration of Black culture during opening ceremonies, amazing, beautiful, 10/10.

(Also watching Travis Kelce snd Patrick Mahomes lose after their Trump comments was just the cherry on top.)

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

“Something cute” won the poll for what I should do for my 100 followers special, so I tried to come up with something pretty dang cute~

Various jjba characters x reader in: Artsy Date

Drawing each other sounded like a great date idea at the time.

Content: nothing really beyond a bit suggestive

Characters: Joseph Joestar (Part 2), Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli, DIO, Rohan Kishibe, Jotaro Kujo (part 4), Yoshikage Kira, Guido Mista, Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, Diavolo, Jolyne Cujoh, Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, Diego Brando

Joseph Joestar: Oh he was QUITE confident in his ability to capture your essence on paper. And no matter how you insisted this was only for fun, not a competition, he was determined to be better at this than you. And he even tries to sabotage you, just a bit, by doing a hard pose to draw when it’s your turn to sketch him.

He IS fun to model for though, flirting with you while he directed you on how to pose for him. For a moment you almost feel like an actual professional model with the way he plays it up. He even makes a camera click noise with his mouth when he’s finally happy with your pose.

He works pretty quickly, talking out loud to himself as he goes, occasionally holding up his handiwork so he can compare it to you.

“Tell me how much you love it.”

He says it SO confidently given how…unimpressive his art skills are…

I mean…you can definitely tell it’s you. Because the character he drew has your outfit. But it’s a bit exaggerated proportion wise and he REALLY cannot draw faces to save his life wow-

“Is that my…nose?”

He’s a bit offended. “NO, that’s your mouth. This is your nose.”

You squint when he points to a spot on the drawing but you don’t really know what he’s pointing to.

But you’ll treasure it forever, you had so much fun being his model and doodling each other. And he quite enjoyed modeling for you, too, very happy to have a sketch of himself drawn by you. You drew him winking with a smug smirk on his face while in that stupidly complicated pose he decided to do despite your protests.

It’s unmistakably Joseph Joestar.

Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli: He loves this idea, but takes it SUPER seriously. He has you very carefully posed, and really takes his time illustrating you to the best of his ability. He even uses watercolors to add to your “inherent elegance” as he calls it.

When you finally get to see it…

It’s a bit amateurish, but still quite impressive, though he totally exaggerated your grace and poise. Your clothes flow in the wind as you pose delicately by a fountain…he definitely took some artistic liberties because there wasn’t any wind when you posed for him, and your outfit wasn’t THAT pristine, but it’s a lovely portrait, and you can’t help but smile learning Caesar really sees you as such a graceful and lovely person.

You feel yours isn’t nearly as grand in comparison, as you drew him much more casually, resting with his chin on his hand, looking quiet and contemplative. He adores every gift you give him, but something this personal is especially wonderful to him.

But you’re a bit embarrassed to see he went through the trouble of framing your drawing of him…sheesh Caesar…he’s so extra sometimes…

DIO: He could maybe make some free time for you in his evenings to indulge in the fine arts. You’re not sure if you’re surprised or unsurprised he actually takes a bit of interest in such things. You want to draw him? He’s happy to indulge you.

You’re off to a strong start because you have to hastily tell him he doesn’t have to take off all his clothes, you’re not making THAT kind of drawing-this was supposed to be cute!! Just pose nicely!

He can’t help himself and goes with something pretty provocative, but whatever. At least your drawing is gonna reflect his personality well.

He’s not opposed to drawing you in turn but he’s bossy just for the sake of it. He wants you to pose a certain way and if you move at all he swore he was going to stop immediately. And he was a man of empty promises, but not empty threats, so you held as still as you could manage, a bit embarrassed at the pose he demanded of you. He chides you a bit for acting surprised that his sketch of you actually looks really good.

You, posed with your arm on your own shoulder, and your head tilted so your neck is very exposed and you are surrounded by darkness. It’s a beautiful sketch, done quickly, and he has signed his name in big letters right on the drawing of you. Such a Dio thing to do. You understand even clearer how he feels about you.

He thinks you should consider it a generous gift that he deigned to waste his time illustrating you, so you’d better treasure that half-hearted sketch he’s made for you.

He has no interest in taking great care of your sketch of him though. It will be tucked away in a book somewhere and promptly forgotten about, but if you were to suggest another drawing session while he was in a pleasant mood he might not refuse.

Rohan Kishibe: Only AFTER suggesting it did you realize perhaps it was not such a good idea.

Rohan was a Very Fast artist. As soon as you suggested it he had an amazing illustration of you done in five seconds flat. You tried to explain it completely defeated the point to go so fast, and that you were supposed to pose for him at least while he drew you!

Well…he doesn’t really see the point in that. But it’s not like he’s swamped with work so…he will try to indulge you if it would make you happy.

You ask him what pose you should do and he says you can do whatever you want because he could replicate it accurately.

Once again defeating the point but whatever.

You try to do a cute pose in the hopes you can convey your romantic intent with this activity. All he does is quirk an eyebrow at you and mutter that your pose looks a bit uncomfortable to hold, but that he’ll be quick so it’ll be fine.

You sigh. He was so unromantic. You were posing SO cutely and he STILL wasn’t getting it.

His illustration of you is professional, even inked and colored with markers, and it only took him a few seconds. You’re posed draped across the couch, with your arms spread and your legs bent to give the appearance of stretching charmingly.

He narrows his eyes in confusion when you proclaim it is his turn now. Apparently he wasn’t listening very closely to how this was supposed to work.

He doesn’t want to pose so you can draw him! That’s boring. He could be doing something else. This really isn’t supposed to be an argument, so you suggest he reads a book or something so he’s not entirely “wasting his time” while you draw him.

He’s grumpy about it, but relents. As long as you promise to be quick.

He just quietly reads in his chair while you doodle him. It’s awkward and not nearly as romantic as you were hoping for, but you’re pretty happy with how your sketch of him turned out.

He doesn’t have much to say on your drawing, quick to excuse himself so he can finally go back to doing whatever he was doing before you interrupted him with this date idea of yours.

But he loves it very much, and keeps it safe in his studio, but he’ll be a bit of a brat about it if you ask because he’s embarrassed to admit it makes him feel good.

Jotaro Kujo: He’s decent at drawing, but only animals, not so much people. But if you’re both not busy one evening then fine, might as well.

He tells you to keep your expectations low, but you’re just glad to finally be spending some quality time with him. He’s not the easiest man to schedule time with, always busy with something.

His drawing of you is simplistic but recognizable, since he knew he’d struggle with detail and it’d just end up bad if he tried.

You love it! It’s rare for him to do anything like this for you, so the drawing is very dear for you, regardless of how he insists it’s not anything to be so excited about. He doesn’t really say anything, but he’s glad it makes you happy, even though he doesn’t feel like he did much.

You accidentally draw his hat too big when it’s your turn to draw him, but otherwise you think it looks pretty cool. You tried to capture the coolness of his white jacket blowing in the wind. You can’t really tell if he likes it, but he ends up folding your sketch nicely and keeping it safe somewhere, so you like to think he enjoyed this little bonding activity.

Yoshikage Kira: UGH, you’re not sure what you were expecting. The drawing he makes of you is…interesting. You’re recognizable, slightly above stick figure status…but he put a Very noticeable emphasis on your hands, putting much more effort into them than anything else in the drawing. The more you look at it the more you realize it’s just a really low-quality imitation of the Mona Lisa. Now you understand the purpose of the pose he suggested. But he seemed to moderately enjoy himself, so…Success, you suppose.

He’ll cooperate and pose for you as long as it doesn’t take too long.

You go for something casual, his pointer finger against his cheek, his other fingers against his chin. Relaxed, but stylish.

He thanks you for the drawing and tucks it away somewhere. It’s safe, but out of mind.

He doesn’t really care if you keep ahold of his drawing of you though. You’re free to do whatever you want with it, he’s not an artist so he understands if you don’t want to keep it, it didn’t take that much effort to draw anyways.

You keep it for a bit but eventually lose track of it. It’s pretty funny when you accidentally stumble across it after it disappeared for a long time. Oh yeah. That weird drawing Yoshikage did of you where he only tried when he was sketching your hands. You had forgotten about that. For good reason.

Guido Mista: He’s definitely not an artist but if you don’t care about how it turns out and just wanna spend time with him through this activity then he’s totally down.

The bullets end up wanting to draw you too so…you end up with a lot of poorly drawn portraits of yourself. Honestly you couldn’t pick out Mista’s drawing from the bullets’. How do they all draw the same way…

All the drawings of you are pretty much just stick figures with very large heads. He said he wanted to capture your facial features accurately so he had to make your head bigger. More room for the eyes. Yeah he’s definitely not taking this too seriously but you expected as much from him. So to counter him, you draw him poorly as well, and then all of the bullets large and in as much detail as you can manage.

He pretends to be offended by it. “Why’d you draw my eyes so big?!” he asks. Because beyond his sense of fashion his deep dark eyes are his most notable feature! Duh.

He ends up losing the drawing on accident within a week but! The important part was how fun it was! The finished products weren’t that important-

Please don’t be mad at him-

Bruno Bucciarati: He thinks it’s a lovely way to spend some time together, so he does what he can to clear his afternoon so he can spend it with you. He starts by saying he’s not an artist so don’t expect too much from him, but his brow furrows in concentration once you’ve assumed a pose you thought he’d like. You go for something cute but

stylish, sitting with one leg up and your other outstretched along the couch elegantly.

His drawing of you is cute. Soft lines and very simple, mostly just capturing your pose than any other details, with dots for eyes because he claims he cannot draw eyes for the life of him. It’s sweet, surprisingly adorable for the serious capo. He tells you not to show his gang though, or he’ll never hear the end of it.

You embarrass yourself a bit when it’s your turn, because you spent a very long time concentrated on his chest trying to get his tattoo accurate. And he’s not helping with his flirty little remark where he suggests you could probably see a little better if you sat closer to him. And then pat his own lap.

It totally breaks your concentration, so you decide your drawing of him is now finished, handing it over to him before he can fluster you any further.

He thinks it’s lovely, and he promises to take care of it, and make even more of an effort to carve out some free time to spend with you, even if it’s just half an hour or so.

He’s already planning a date he can surprise you with next time.

Leone Abbacchio: He’s not one for sweet romantic gestures, so he pushes back a bit, but if you nag him he’ll give in pretty quickly. It’s not like you’re asking him to do something he really hates doing, and he has a particular weakness for you…so fine. But just this once.

He’ll hold still so you can sketch him, but only for ten minutes, and he gets to choose the pose.

At least the pose he chooses looks nice. Despite his jaded personality, he’s a pretty and elegant looking man. You draw a side profile of him, his expression that usual impassive frown, but his features have a sort of rugged grace.

When you slide your masterpiece over to him, he exhales through his nose so he can maintain that grouchy persona, but he’s gentle when he actually takes the drawing from you.

When it’s his turn to draw you, he works quickly and silently, not even looking at you, which leads you to think he’s still unhappy about being asked to do this.

He won’t admit it but he didn’t look at you because he didn’t have to. He’s replayed memories of you through Moody Blues enough times to have your face memorized.

You weren’t expecting much when he casually slid the piece of paper over to you.

But when you look, you can’t help the way your jaw drops. A side profile of you that mirrors the one you drew of him. Drawn amazingly well. It’s accurate, elegant, surprisingly soft…he’s even sketched a few flowers alongside you to make the piece more aesthetically pleasing.

The way you stare makes him embarrassed, and he ends up biting out that if you didn’t like it you should just throw it away.

You respond by clutching it protectively against your chest. It just makes him more embarrassed to know you’re going to be clinging to that thing for a while. There’s really no winning with him-

WHATEVER.

You can do whatever you want with it, but do NOT show that off to Mista, Narancia and ESPECIALLY NOT Giorno (not that Giorno would tease him, but the mortifying idea of that blond knowing ANYTHING about him makes Leone feel ill).

Once enough time has passed, you can start convincing him to make a few quick sketches for you, since they make you happy for whatever reason, and unfortunately for him he loves making you happy even if that means dropping the apathetic gangster disposition for a moment.

Ghiaccio: You thought that you had finally found something that was relaxing for both of you and wouldn’t completely frustrate him and result in him losing his temper. Again.

Turns out you were incorrect. Again.

Firstly he’s not a fan of sitting still. He’ll sit in one spot for you, but he’s tapping his foot the whole time and fiddling with his phone. So you try to go as fast as you can before he gets too impatient with just sitting there waiting for his turn to draw you.

It turns out a little bit rushed, but you feel like you captured his look pretty well, even adding some red to his glasses and shoes for a splash of color.

But when it’s his turn to draw you…he starts getting frustrated fast. He keeps erasing and starting over, the poor paper getting smudged and wrinkled into oblivion, and eventually he gets mad enough to stop when he accidentally rips through the paper with his pencil.

He shouts a slew of Italian curse words before saying he’s done with this stupid date, slamming the sketchbook onto the table in front of you and storming off in a huff of embarrassment at how poorly the drawing turned out.

Well that went great.

His drawing is honestly pretty cute, the condition of the paper and the eraser smudges and rips tell quite a story…

Because of how crumpled the paper turned out it kinda looks like the hastily drawn version of you got hit by a frying pan or electrocuted by a lightning bolt, but you still like it. It was nice of him to at least entertain your idea, even though it ended up frustrating him.

Diavolo: Draw him? NO.

Not a CHANCE in HELL.

Remove that idea from your mind immediately and never bring it up again. He will not allow even one vague sketch of him to be made, and if you do it anyways he will not forgive you.

Really you should’ve expected that reaction. What were you thinking with that one…?

But if you irritate him enough about it, he’ll Eventually get fed up and tell you to sit down and hold still. If all he has to do to get you to stop whining was sketch you, then FINE. He’ll sketch you.

Stop squirming in your seat and squealing with excitement…you’re giving him a headache.

You try to hold still for him.

He radiates irritation at having to do this, his gaze intense and the strokes of his pencil harsh and deliberate.

“There.”

He tosses the sketchbook over to you and promptly gets up and leaves before he has to hear your feedback.

It’s pretty good actually. A little rough since he drew it while in a particularly foul mood, but if he actually tried he could really make something nice.

If you tell him you love what he drew for you he’ll dismiss your compliment immediately. He doesn’t care about his art skills, he has much bigger things to concern himself with than sitting around sketching his partner whenever they begged him for that kind of attention.

Jolyne Cujoh: At first she thinks it’s a super cute and romantic date idea, so she’s eager to try it with you.

She does a cool pose for you, elegant but powerful, and she tries to hold it for you but it ended up not being the easiest pose to hold so you have to work fast. She ends up having to stretch after that painful pose, and even though you feel a bit bad listening to her complain about how she pulled a muscle doing that, it’s hard not to enjoy how she rolls her shoulders to loosen them.

She says it was totally worth it because she loves your sketch of her. You better believe she’s going to take good care of it, even if you say it’s not good because you had to rush it. Too late. She’s not giving it back. You’ll have to fight her for it, and you know from experience you’re not winning if you try playfully roughhousing with her.

When it’s her turn to draw you, she pretends to be highly concentrated and serious, but she ends up feeling a bit embarrassed when she actually finishes her sketch of you.

It’s not bad at all, very cute, and she gave you sparkly anime eyes since they’re the only type of eye she knows how to draw. The proportions aren’t perfect, your head looks kinda big compared to your body, and it’s pretty simple, but in a way where you could claim it was a stylistic choice and not on accident.

If you really insist you love it she’ll be slightly less embarrassed, but don’t go showing that around to everyone! It’s for your eyes only!

She signs it for you with a playful green lipstick stain.

But seriously. Don’t show it around.

Johnny Joestar: Usually you’re both too tired by the time you’re setting up camp when it starts getting dark during the SBR to think about doing anything cute with each other.

But one evening you have an extra burst of energy, and there’s juuust enough light by the fire to do a sketch of Johnny.

Well, if you want to. He’s not ready to fall asleep yet so you might as well.

You really wanna capture his intense eyes. So you don’t make him do anything in particular except look at you on occasion so you can make sure you’re getting his face right.

It turns out okay. At least you got the eyes right. He doesn’t really know how to react beyond just thanking you and tucking the drawing away. The two of you can only hope nothing happens to it, but it can’t be helped with all the action during this race if your drawing ended up destroyed.

When it’s his turn to draw you, he’s quiet and concentrated, occasionally glancing up at you for accuracy’s sake but otherwise he seems to know what he’s doing, to your surprise.

“I think it turned out alright,” he comments, handing it over to you after signing it with a little star with two J’s in it.

It’s a bit of an understatement, even in the darkness with only the light of the fire to see, he captured an amazing amount of detail. You, sitting contemplatively by the fire, shadows dancing across your face with the flickering of the flames…and he got the scenery really accurate.

“Do you like drawing landscapes, Johnny?”

His sketch of your surroundings was done remarkably skillfully.

He shrugs, but then thinks about it for a moment before saying yeah, landscapes were more enjoyable to draw for him. You have to slow down a bit to capture the details of your surroundings accurately in a drawing so…perhaps he likes the change of pace every once in a while.

Gyro Zeppeli: He acts sooo confident despite knowing full well that he cannot draw people. And he’s a bit of a menace to you, since you said this was only for fun and nothing to take too seriously, then surely you don’t mind him constantly moving around and striking different poses and making weird jokes. If he was going to be ridiculous then FINE, you would draw him ridiculous.

You confidently declare your drawing is quite flattering and then spin your paper around to show him a half-hearted attempt at a sketch of him lying on his side with a rose between his teeth, surrounded by hearts. You’ve purposefully given him a tiny head so it looks silly.

He takes it as a personal challenge, declaring it was his turn so you’d better be ready. While he’s drawing you, you pretend to fall asleep like he was boring you.

You were expecting his drawing to be unprofessional but at least recognizable. When he confidently hands you back what he’s drawn you genuinely aren’t sure what you’re looking at.

“This is me?”

“YES, see this is your hair, and these are your arms…” he explains the drawing to you but can’t help the occasional laugh that escapes. So he WAS messing with you with this incomprehensible scribble he presented you with.

“You really captured my essence,” you say, holding the picture up next to your face to compare them.

“Like you have a twin,” he declares, accompanied by his signature laugh.

He’s such a TEASE sometimes-

Diego Brando: He’s really struggling to grasp the idea that this is just for fun and isn’t supposed to be super serious, because as soon as he’s done posing for you he’s hovering over your shoulder while you draw and backseat sketching for you. He’s like ‘oh my hair should be a little longer, you got my nose shape wrong, that’s not how my eyes look, etc.’

Ok Diego why don’t you draw yourself if you know so much about art, sheesh-

Even if you say that as a joke he might actually end up plucking the sketchbook and pencil from you and finishing it himself so it’s to his likeness. You find it a bit irritating that he’s actually pretty good at art and his additions to your drawing of him really make the piece come together. So annoying. How dare he be innately talented at drawing?

AND just to show off he makes you do a complex pose when it’s his turn to draw you. He ends up capturing it and your appearance on paper wonderfully.

You look great sketched by him, due to the pose he chose it almost looks like you’re in the middle of a dance, a sense of movement that made you look graceful and powerful. Just the type of thing Diego liked in his partners.

You’ve been a bit idealized in his drawing, not to your surprise, but you’re quite fond of it anyways. You make a point of not laying on the praise too thick though. Otherwise it would go to his head, and the last thing he needs is an even bigger ego.

-

Which Jojo character would you want to draw you? Personally I’d love a Rohan original but. I actually think DIO’s art style would be aesthetically pleasing to me-

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY NINTH; side b — secret love song - little mix | r. cameron x maybank!reader

w; intended to be s1 rafe — but also can be any season you’d prefer for this, this doesn’t follow any events of outer banks (just the characters and the pogues vs kooks thing), maybe a bit ooc!rafe? i’m not sure, slight mentions of john b & reader as well, cheating 😔, this is a bit short — not sure how i feel about this one </3 !! i always try to use few to no pronouns or descriptions for r — can be adopted or half sibling! whatever you'd prefer <3 an; love this song and i also thought of rafe and then bam it came to me.

mixtape here!

John Booker Routledge had been one of your favorite people ever since you had been younger — besides your brother. 

The three of you attached by the hip, the three troublemakers you had been so lovingly called. And knowing him since you were all little tots, only to blossom into a young adult, it was only normal to develop a small crush that had JJ gagging every time he noticed where your eyes lingered. 

And it was only normal for him to be your first kiss. 

It was strange. Not that he wasn’t a decent kisser, it just felt…void of something. You weren't sure why it had felt that way, especially when you felt a small amount of jealousy whenever he tended to stray his attention away from you and to Sarah instead. 

It was confusing as much as it was aggravating. 

But, Rafe Cameron, the one person who had made everyone’s life worse just by looking at them with baby blues and a smug smirk, took you by complete surprise. 

In the sense that when he kissed you, it never felt null of anything. Even after he had pulled away, you could still feel the phantom of his lips brushing over your own. 

It also took you by complete surprise because you’re both supposed to keep a distance due to ‘image’ — something you’d always thought was ridiculous, but also never really breaking away from the hate you’re supposed to have for Kooks. 

For Rafe Cameron. 

But at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, or even show him an ounce of faux hatred even if you tried. 

Midnight was your favorite time. Because exactly when the numbers turned to 12, there would be a small tap at your window. Because if he were to knock on the door at this time, Luke would have probably shot him, or JJ would have no problem throwing punches and taking them. 

It was best to stay a secret, even if you hate it. And even if you want others to see the love you both have for one another. 

The tapping catches your attention, a small smile tugging on your lips when you close your book and crawl off the bed and quietly make your way towards the window, pushing the sheer curtains back before unlocking the window and pushing it up. 

Glancing back at the door to keep an eye out, you allow him to grip your arms as he slips inside your room as quietly as possible — he’s gotten better with sneaking in — before turning and closing your window slowly. 

His hand is a bit cold when it wraps around the side of your neck, causing you to gasp and shiver as you look at him quickly. “Rafe!” You whisper sharply, trying to push at his arm. He smirks slightly, pulling you closer and pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. “Why are your hands so cold?” You mumble. 

“It’s freezing outside, sweetheart. What do you expect?” He snorts quietly. You smile a bit, taking his hand from your neck, sandwiching it between both of your own the best you could. His eyes are soft as they watch you. “You coming tomorrow?” 

“Hm?” You look up at him. “Oh, yeah. JJ wanted to go,” You shake your head slightly, reaching for the other one. “Figured he would anyway when he heard about it.”

Rafe nods a bit and pushes away a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “You wanna lie down?” You nod and pull him towards your bed, scooting close to the wall as he slides in after kicking off his shoes. You scoot up a bit, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer to you the best you could. 

He hums and lies his head against your chest, ear placed over where you heartbeat, slipping his eyes closed and melting into the bed when your fingers begin to scratch against his scalp. His fingers rest against your side, twitching every so often. 

It’s silent for a while, except for the beat of your heart, loud and comforting, in his ear. His eyes then slide open and he pulls his head away from your chest to stare down at you instead. 

Your eyes are pointed upwards at the ceiling and he can tell by the small scrunch of your brows, you're worrying yourself sick over something. You flinch at the sudden touch of his fingertips running over the lines that had been between your brows. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers softly. You glance over at him and tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you think of what to say. Tracing his finger down the slope of your nose before pushing his fingers into the strands of your hair, he gives you a slight worried look. 

“You can tell me whatever is on your mind, you know that, right?” 

Nodding, you sigh quietly. “Is it always going to be like this?” 

“Is what always going to be like this?” 

“You and I. This. Us,” You say as if it’s obvious because, well, it is obvious. “Having only a short amount of time together, or having to…rush date night and act as if we’re with someone else,” You shake your head. 

“It’s…I love you and I want to be able to love you freely — not privately and only a certain amount of time.” 

He frowns and drops his forehead against yours gently, nudging your nose against his. “You know I love you, right?” Your eyes drift away from his. He frowns when he notices your eyes become wet with tears. “Right? Hey,” 

Your eyes hesitantly drift back to his face. His thumb drags over your cheekbone softly. “I do love you. A lot,” He nods. “We’ll tell people. But now is not the right time.” 

“When will it be the right time?” Your brows pinch together as you stare up at him. 

His lips press into yours — a soft kiss, and a gentle hold with his hand — before pulling away slowly, his thumb pressing gently into your chin. “Soon.” He whispers against your lips. 

Which is why, when you look for him everywhere (just for a quick, shared look), you're confused when you see him pressed close to some brunette. 

Even more confused when they both laugh together and she presses a hand against his chest. 

 Now you’re frozen when he’s leaning in and kissing her — a bit too fiercely for a party in front of people. Your eyes and they drift down towards the coffee table in between the spread out teens. 

There’s some substance on some type of gold tray with other various items around it on display. Your eyes quickly look back up, watching as he finally pulls away from her, smirking as he leans back and looks ahead. 

His smug demeanor drops when he sees your face. Rafe is quick on his feet when you turn away from him, pushing past people to get outside and find JJ, John B, and Pope and leave. 

You hear his voice calling out for you, anger thrumming through your bones. Once you step outside, Rafe is suddenly closer than you realize, his hand brushing your arm. 

You turn and smack him before you could catch yourself. The sound catches the onlookers from outside, lifting some brows.

“Don’t you dare touch me, Rafe. I swear—”

“I-I’m sorry! I don’t know what—”

You cut him off with a crazed laugh, pushing him by his chest. He allows you to push him around. “You didn’t know that you were making out with someone else?! What, you thought it was me, huh? Is that your excuse!” Your brows are furrowed in anger, your cheeks flushed and wet with tears as you stare up at him. 

He opens his mouth to speak, shaking his head, but someone is cutting in, calling out your name. “You okay?” John B. 

“I want to go home,” You turn towards him. Rafe calls out your name, eyes wide and desperate. “JB, please. Take me home.” Your voice is raw and it eats away at Rafe’s heart. Because instead of you turning to him, you’re turning back to John B to comfort you. 

All because he was an idiot. 

John B glances at Rafe, a small look on his face has you stepping closer to him, shaking your head, glancing over your shoulder at him. “He’s not worth it,” Rafe’s jaw clenches as he stares at you. You look away and pass by John B, walking towards where he had parked. 

JJ had gone somewhere with Pope, more than likely crashing at his place after. John B had decided to stay with you until you had calmed down, allowing you to talk and get everything off your chest. 

He listened and never once judged you. 

So, why is it when you kiss John Booker Routledge — again — you feel null of any emotion?

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sereneera — @dearestjune — @sstar-ggirl

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[b0kevi]

try. | Jamil x gn!reader

summary: y/n’s heart aches for jamil but knows they can’t be together, can jamil really love y/n the way they love him

trope: slight angst, fluff happy ending, in denial, love confession

info: “I think… I can love you.” prompt, gender neutral reader they/them pronouns, long cringe love confession

characters: Jamil Viper, Kalim mentioned

w/c: 1115

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

A part of you knew what you were getting into. You knew it wasn’t going to work out the second you sensed something, but the heart wants what it wants.

and for some reason, your heart wants jamil.

the dashing mysterious servant from scarabia.

your brain told you to stay away from him, not because he’s mischievous no, because he has enough on his plate. you doubt he has time for romance or if he even thinks about romance.

your brain told you to stay away and let him go but your heart told you otherwise.

you ended up getting closer to the vice warden and sharing chores with each other, basically spending any free time you can at scarabia to hang out with him and help him out.

every minute you spent with him, the louder the voice in your heart got. you were being greedy, selfish to wish that he would love you like you love him.

“something on your mind?” you were doing it again. getting lost in his movements, so memorized by the way he moves in the kitchen, he doesn’t even need to use his signature spell for you to be captivated by him.

“oh, it’s nothing.” you were supposed to be washing dishes as jamil prepares for dinner but as days go by your feelings grow stronger and you really thought this would be easy to hide but it’s starting to hurt a lot more than you thought.

“really? because it seems like you're somewhere else.”

Jamil already finished preparations and made his way to you before having to take the food out, he nudged your shoulder a bit to grab your attention. just with a single touch you could feel sparks running through your body.

“sorry, it’s just been a long day... you know how it is.” you finished washing the last plate and dried your hands, speaking up before he could.

“why don’t we take this food out? I'm sure everyone’s starving.” grabbing plates to hide from his glaze.

𖥸

“delicious as always jamil.” you smiled as you took a bite. after you guys fed everyone else, you two went to the kitchen for some quiet time to eat your own dinner.

Jamil chuckles softly, “it’s nothing special…”

you stare at him, how could he not see how wonderful he is. how you wish you can tell him how amazing he is, you could spend the rest of your life singing him praise just so he can see how special he really is.

𖥸

“is there… something you want to tell me y/n?” This made you jump as you handed Jamil your plate for him to wash.

“hm? what do you mean?” you played off, Jamil could tell something was bothering you, you were so quiet and distant with him today, it was unusual. He noticed it’s not just today you were distant, the last couple of weeks you’ve been quiet, still helping him but not yourself. he could use his snake charmer to figure out what was going on but he felt wrong to do that, he wanted you to tell him yourself.

Jamil sighed as he leaned against the counter, “you’ve been very distant and have been staring at me quite a lot lately… have I done something?” you can take it anymore you can feel your heart about to burst.

“Jamil… I have to tell you something.” he knew it. you motion him to sit down which he hesitantly did.

“just… hear me out okay? I know this might be a lot and you might hate me but I need to say this.” you started out, squeezing your hands and taking a deep breath before staring into Jamil’s grey eyes.

“Jamil… I love you. I've loved you for so long and I tried so hard to push these feelings away and let you do your own thing but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand being away from you, I'm drawn to you jamil. you’re so amazing that I wish you could see that yourself. you’re such an incredible and hard working person that I can spend the rest of the days telling you how wonderful you are just so you can believe it yourself. I know you're just a servant but that doesn’t matter to me, I don't care, I love you jamil and I understand if you don’t feel the same, I know you have a lot of stuff going on which is why i didn’t want to tell you but i had to. i understand if you don’t want to see me again…” you finished your rant as you felt like you’re about to burst into tears but you held it in.

Jamil had a deep blush on his face and blank stare and he digested what you just said.

Jamil had so many thoughts running through his head, he never thought anyone would feel this way about him or if he deserved this kind of love. you were right, he did have a lot on his plate, he didn’t know if his family would allow him to have a partner or if he was ready for one, how would he provide for you? He already has to take care of kalim, could he take care of the two of you?

you took his silence and avoided gaze as his answer and turned to make your way to the door.

“w-wait-!” Jamil frantically stood up and grabbed your wrist, he looked so puzzled and flustered.

“jamil you don’t have to say anythin-“ Jamil interrupted you before anything.

“I think…I think I can love you.”

Jamil could think of the consequences or what ifs later but what he knows right now is that he feels good when he’s around you. He doesn’t feel like a servant at someone’s beck and call, he feels free and he likes being around you. If this is love then he definitely thinks he can love you.

“I know I don’t come from a lot but I can definitely love you if you give me a chance to prove it.” his hand moved to hold yours.

that’s it. your heart just exploded, you jumped at him and crushed him with a hug making you both fall to the ground.

you kissed his cheek and all around his face, “yes! i don’t care about anything else i just want you jamil!”

jamil let out a genuinely laugh as he sat up holding you tightly as if you were going to let go and change your mind. he held your face gently, looking deep into your eyes, “I promise to be there for you and show you love Hayati.”

“Me too Jamil.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

hayati = my life

a/n: I’m not arabic and I used google to translate ^ idk i saw that prompt and immediately thought of jamil for some reason, idk how to feel about this lol have a good day/night ! take care <3

[smilesrobotlover]

Here’s a list of characters that I think should’ve made it in Hyrule Warriors:

Groose. 100% he should’ve been in hw. Each era of characters seem to follow a theme of two heroes and 1 villain (in regards of the main story at least): oot has Ruto and Darunia, and tho he’s not exact I sorta count Volga since he looks like Volvagia, tp has Midna and Agitha and Zant, but skord only has Fi and Ghirahim. Why wasn’t Groose the second hero character for that era??? He’s one of the most important characters in the game and the groosenator is IN IT too! It feels disrespectful to NOT have him in it yet he’s not. I don’t understand the logic behind it but it makes me upsetti spaghetti because Groose is the best guy around

Rusl. This is definitely bias talking cuz I love Rusl but also I feel like it makes more sense. Now… I like Agitha in tp. I think she’s a very fun and charming character that adds more life to the world of Tp, but she’s not an important character in that game. You could go the whole game without meeting her and have no consequence (tho she gives you great prizes so it certainly doesn’t hurt to see her), but for some reason she was added to Hyrule warriors? I just don’t think it makes any sense when the resistance were right there. Rusl is one of the most important characters in the game by being Link’s father figure, protecting the kids, being apart of the resistance, and teaching Link how to fight. It feels more natural to have an actual fighting character that was important to the plot be added, but he wasn’t. And this random child who is not a fighter and has no plot relevance was added instead. I will forever be salty about this. And if not Rusl, they should’ve at LEAST gone with Ashei since she’s also a fighter! Give the resistance some love! They’re such cool characters that were not utilized enough! UGH

Vaati. Now I don’t care too much for Vaati in the canon games, but Vaati is a very unique villain because he’s the most reoccurring villain besides Ganondorf in the Zelda series, and he was the first villain of Hyrule before Ganondorf came into existence. I feel like he should’ve had a chance in the game, maybe not in the main story, but at least a playable character. Now, tbf, Vaati is in games that aren’t super well known save for Minish cap, but still. In the world of zelda he’s very important and I feel like deserved a spot on the roster.

Now this isn’t in the actual Hyrule warriors game, but it is a hw game and I think Astor fits on this list. You’re telling me this guy was the main villain in the entire game save for the final battle and he WASNT playable?? HUH???? That is the most absurd character on this list to not be added cuz he’s not some side character, he’s the VILLAIN. Even Sooga became playable (tho that was DLC) but he WASNT! Astor was done so dirty in this game and he deserves so much better. He should’ve been playable is all I’m saying.

I surprisingly don’t have a strong opinion on this cuz idk how they could do this well but I feel like I must say this out of obligation, but Linebeck… and solely cuz I need him so bad. I want to play him in something or see him in something or do SOMETHING with him. I miss my wife tails… again, idk what they could do but they did add Medli so I’m sure they could’ve figured something out. He’s easily one of the most important characters in phantom hourglass and I would’ve love to see him 😔💔

And that’s all I have. I’m curious what other characters people wish were added to Hyrule warriors :00 but these are the big ones for me.