#i really got lost in the sauce here

[punkforkos]

Hello!!! :D 🌈✍️ and 💪 for the ask meme for the OC of your choice :D

Hi!!! Thank you for the emojis!! :D

🌈 - color symbolism

✍️ - name meaning and symbolism

💪- abilities and powers symbolism/metaphor(how are your character's abilities a reflection of them as a person? Etc)

I'll do these for a couple different ocs that immediately jump into my mind-- Dante (they/he), Cain (he/him), and Solaire (he/him)!

🌈COLOR SYMBOLISM🌈

>> Cain: Yellow is a color I use a lot for him when playing with themes of growth and healing, namely because sunlight is a HUGE motif for him. The warmth and comfort of the sun, light being something needed for plants to grow and thrive...

Yellow is bright, it's warm, and it's something he can find in the people he loves! His best friend's yellow eyes, his boyfriend's golden hair. It's a color signifying his friendship and his love!!

Conversely, I use a lot of oranges when playing with his themes of grief, guilt, and trauma. He sees fire in his nightmares, it's a color that will never leave him, it made him who he is. It signifies the destruction of his old life and a rebirth into the person he is now. Orange is a color for anger, passion, confusion, and trepidation.

✍️ NAME SYMBOLISM✍️

✍️ Cain Rook: Cain Rook was a fake name that he assumed when he fully committed himself to the life of a career thief. C.Rook... crook.

His real name is Daniel Bishop though! So much of his name is just biblical references... which is intentional, given his childhood religious trauma. Daniel means "God is my Judge", Cain is a biblical figure who killed his brother out of jealousy. A rook is a chess piece that looks like a tower, but a rook is also a thief... a bishop is both a chess piece and a clergyman. Daniel was a faithful son who believed in God for the sake of his mother, but Cain is a scorned man who wishes he could take back his innocence.

Cain replacing the person Daniel was is deeply symbolic, Cain almost feels like he killed that kid when he looks through the warped glass of his survivor's guilt. It feels wrong for him to move on, he feels like a crook (and he is a crook!! he's an actual thief). He's trying to find anyway he can to rationalize what happened and why he feels the way he does... but it hurts! So he tries to create distance instead. ------------------

✍️ Dante Inferno: Meta-wise, this name references Dante's Inferno! I heavily associate Dante with the 9th and final layer of Hell from the poem-- Treachery. His greatest sin and the coldest, deepest layer of Hell. I thought it was fitting, given that they're a drow from the Underdark, who became a pirate that uses a submarine as their main vessel... who betrays their own people by selling them out to The Spider Queen for their own gain.

And yet, Dante is caught up in their own kind of purgatory. They have dug themself so deep that they can no longer find their way back up towards the light. They are deeply unfulfilled and unhappy by what they're doing but they continue it because it's all they know now!! It's the only thing that's working for them. Until it doesn't.

💪ABILITIES/POWERS SYMBOLISM💪

>> >Solaire is absolutely my #1 oc for this particular question. His story is deeply entwined with his abilities/powers!!

TLDR: Solaire is a phoenix fire sorcerer... who gained his powers when his mother ingested a phoenix feather elixir while pregnant with him. She had fallen ill and needed this elixir to live and save both her and her child. However, Solaire was born sickly... and were it not for the residual phoenix essence that he'd absorbed, he would be dead!!

While this phoenix essence allowed him to continue living and had also gave him incredible fire powers... these incredible powers also consumed his life. His father only attempted to nurture these abilities within him, which isolated him from the rest of his family.

Unfortunately, he was neglected for most of his life, though he doesn't see it that way. As a result, he grew up as quite a unique blend... being entitled, vain, and arrogant... but also profoundly lonely, angry, and confused. Yearning for any kind of connection, but unable to figure out how to earn it, without digging his claws into someone else and holding them close. Personality-wise, he is a Nightmare. ------

>>> Solaire does not know a life without his powers. His power symbolizes strength, control, beauty, and radiance. Destruction and pain. His fire burns OTHERS but not himself... right? He was brought up thinking that these are the best parts of him. These powers are his worth and without them, he is nothing special. He is weak and fragile without them.

It's an incredibly toxic mindset, given that he's chronically ill and his illness is directly connected to his powers,,!! Whenever he overuses his abilities or strains himself too much in any way, he becomes extremely sick and fatigued, on top of having regular flare-ups. It's built up a lot of self-loathing inside of him!! ------

>>> Ah but to tie it all back into symbolism... everything relates back to the phoenix and to fire. Fire can be beautiful and warming, something that can help life prosper, but it can also be extremely devastating and destructive. Solaire didn't know how to use his fire in any positive way and it ended up hurting him and everyone else around him more than anything. But because of that phoenix essence, he will always bounce back. It's a nasty cycle. Hurt, heal, hurt, heal, and hurt some more. ----------------

I have so many thoughts about this particular subject but I'm getting extremely rambly about it and not wording it as cohesively as I'd like!! So I'll wrap it up here for now.

If you want to read more about his powers (and his illness) and how they actually work, might I direct you to his Toyhouse? <333

[smile-files]

kris - headcanons, theories, and analysis (a jumbled mess from yours truly)

kris has selective mutism and is semi-verbal: they have the capability of speech, but the extent to which they are willing and eager to speak at any given moment is highly dependent on their current mental state as well as the people around them. generally speaking, kris is not very talkative and infrequently starts or participates in conversation, even when in the presence of people they are comfortable with and when feeling fine; it is noted, though, that kris only ever actively wants to speak and is eager to do so in such situations -- when uncomfortable, kris will not speak unless direly necessary (and even then, their ability to speak is not guaranteed). also worthy of note is how unexpressive kris's face tends to be; they rarely wear anything other than a blank expression. exceptions only occur under extreme, catastrophic distress, or when around friends and family -- kris has been known to laugh, especially since they would like making mischief.

in kris's youth, they had close, warm relationships with their adoptive mother, toriel, their adoptive father, asgore, their adoptive brother, asriel, their next-door neighbor and friend, noelle, and, to a slightly lesser extent, noelle's sister, dess, and father, rudy. while still quiet most of the time, kris would actively want to speak to them on some occasions, and would often be happy to point out things to them (kris is a very observant person, noticing small details in their environment) and play games that had some minor speaking component (such as playing a video game in which comments are often exchanged between players). given their emotional proximity to kris, these individuals knew kris well enough to have a general sense of how they were feeling, even in moments when kris wasn't in the mindspace to speak; asriel and noelle could tell what kris was feeling better than anyone else, asriel especially understanding why kris felt what they did (noelle always knew what kris felt, but often didn't understand why they were feeling it and required an explanation kris wasn't able to provide), and so kris was very attached to them. however, this attachment was wrought with insecurity: asriel was growing up, soon to leave for college, and a well-beloved golden boy; noelle was always leagues better than kris in school, and a darling, endearing girl; kris couldn't help but fixate on asriel and noelle leaving them someday.

unfortunately, a cascade of events eventually pulled the majority of kris's loved ones away from them, including azzy and noelle. dess disappeared, splintering the relationship between kris's family, the dreemurrs, and noelle's family, the holidays; kris and noelle began to grow apart as their families lost touch; asgore was fired from his position as police chief, and toriel divorced him; finally, asriel went off to college. the only close connection kris maintained from their childhood was toriel -- and even if toriel never understood them quite as thoroughly as azzy or noelle, kris was still strongly attached to her and her ability to understand them at all, to the point that, in the absence of anyone else to connect with, kris became very clingy to her. kris has been massively lonely and depressed, fixated on the great time asriel must be having in college and how happy and beloved noelle seemed to be -- while they've been alone, with nobody to truly know how they feel when they're uncomfortable. oh, and how often kris is uncomfortable! basically friendless, constantly sleep-deprived, and harboring a hidden self-loathing stewing in their soul since their childhood… since asriel moved away, kris has been quieter than ever, unable to express the pain festering within. they were never that expressive, but that seemed to have come to a head, with kris becoming almost completely unresponsive to any emotional stimuli. kris seemed completely unfazed by susie's cruel bullying when she joined the class… however, her words seemed to strike a chord deep, deep within them, and they couldn't help but laugh.

since the player has taken control over kris's soul near the beginning of the game, however, kris's verbal "self"-expression has increased. the player can compel kris to speak -- not only in moments where kris would choose to speak themselves, in which the player just directs what it is they are to say (possibly contradicting what kris wants to say), but also in moments where kris would be uncomfortable and wouldn't even be willing to speak at all. the player seems to not have control over kris's facial expression, however -- so, despite having suppressed most show of emotion in recent months, kris now has the chance to take advantage of their ability to communicate their true feelings through their face, and might well seize it… though, why would kris not take the player's manipulation as another sign from above that they will never be understood? why even try? regardless what they think, though, a certain primal desire to be understood overrides any logic or loss of hope: like always, if disturbed enough, kris's face will show it; likewise, if something strikes their funny bone -- or if it strikes a chord deep, deep within them -- kris will laugh.

kris, no matter what, does not like being suppressed, and even if the player isn't hurting them (which can certainly, certainly happen), kris will have some negative opinion of them. they want to be loved and understood for who they truly are, more than anything else in the world, and the player, even if unintentionally, is actively undermining that. if we imagine some alternate timeline, where kris made friends with ralsei and susie all on their own, that friendship having formed at all would imply that kris believes that ralsei and susie either do or will love and understand kris for who they truly are; why would kris become friends with them otherwise? in this hypothetical, kris would learn that they aren't truly alone, and that there are always people to connect and relate to, if they believe they're capable of being understood -- that they don't have to wait forever for people like asriel. however, as the "friendship" kris has with ralsei and susie is entirely manufactured by the player and the game, it is little more than a distant dream. as we control kris's body and words, it's as if kris's self is watching what "they" do from within themselves, looking at the friendships "they" have and wishing they were truly theirs: it is dissociation, a feeling that these relationships aren't real.

at the same time, though, kris desires these relationships as they currently are, even in their apparently empty state, or wants to desire them; kris desires a world in which they aren't constantly craving understanding, in which closeness was taken for granted, in which they were open and talkative, in which, perhaps, they were a different person who isn't such a weird, quiet loser. this is what the player provides; this is what the dark world provides; this is what the game provides. the dark world is a game that kris is playing: it is doubtful that kris summoned the player to control them, but the player's control is what gives kris these relationships, and so, in some strange way, kris might desire the player as much as they hate the player. kris has never been good with people, but now they can be piloted by someone who, via the game (which, notably, is a path ralsei sets for us: the prophecy), follows a relatively stable path in which they must be good with people. chapter 1 always ends with kris being "friends" with ralsei and susie, with kris doing the "right thing", with kris being "happy". perhaps kris can come out of chapter 1, half-satisfied with having lived vicariously through themselves. chapter 2 is largely the same for basically every player, and would perhaps result in noelle genuinely, earnestly reconnecting with kris (kris themselves) through their adventure in the dark world; however, if the player tries hard enough to defy the game's path, they can force kris to do terrible things to people: to emotionally abuse noelle right as she was about to rekindle something with kris, manipulating her into killing someone. this, obviously, would f*ck kris up, the main reason for which need not even be spoken. but there is something more subtly tragic about it all: that the one genuine, non-vicarious, non-player relationship kris might foster through the game -- their faded friendship with noelle -- was forcibly dashed on the rocks with kris's own, puppeted hands. is that not horrible?

no matter what path the player makes kris take in either chapter, kris removes their soul each night (twice during chapter 2) and, shambling like a silent zombie, performs some impulsive, violent act with their knife -- cutting a pie, slashing toriel's car tires, or opening a dark fountain. worthy of note is that the soul the player controls is still kris's soul, and yet they are willing to literally remove their soul, the culmination of their being, to be free of us from a little while. in two of three cases, kris clearly returns the soul to their body; in the third at the end of chapter 2, they hold it up as their handmade dark fountain billows smoke, and it is ambiguous what they do with it. are they gazing at it in awe, or glaring at it in disgust? how much do they need the soul, and how much can they act without it? will they return it to their body? the player, the dark world, and the game are what allow kris to reconnect with noelle -- or break her. in the former case, kris might be opening a dark fountain in the hopes that perhaps more good will come out of this strange system of control at which they are centered; in the latter, they might be opening it to spite the player's attempts at closing dark fountains, in accordance to ralsei and the game's will. true, the path that leads kris to manipulate noelle is one that defies the game's central intent -- but the game still allowed it to happen, tantalizing the observant player with a secret route. or, in both cases, kris just might want to create a dark world where their mother is present, given that the dark world has either brought people closer to them, or left them completely alone…

[thedailyvio]

Day 75 - 82

Concept for @enjoliquej

WIP Below:

[moe-broey]

Why did I start like three other projects when I was already working on a big project when I just got hit with the autism exhaustion beam (requires. At least One Full Day just dead in bed, and then some more Taking It Easy time after)

[multi-lefaiye]

a modern ghost story - wip re-intro

finally, a re-intro for my first ever writeblr wip intro... waow how time flies.

taglist (i'm gonna be real with y'all, i lost track of the taglist and had to dig it up again--tentatively tagging the original taglist as well as folks i thought might be interested): @albatris @skitzo-kero @anexor @lychniscitrus @transmasc-wizard @chaieyestea @vacantgodling @kingkendrick7 @jezifster @manuscriptsatmidnight @fictionalbullshitter @astral-runic

(if you'd like to not be tagged in posts relating to this wip going forward, lmk!!! <3 and if you'd like to be added to the actual taglist, also lmk!!!)

synopsis: A Modern Ghost Story is the tale of the four members of The Cyclone Seekers, a group of semi-famous storm-chasers, and their harrowing adventures chasing after storms in Nebraska in 2006. On the way, they quickly come to learn that they have far, far more than tornadoes to worry about waiting for them in the storms. Something sinister is afoot, and their past may come back to haunt them in a very literal way.

setting: various fictional locations in Nebraska, United States, in 2006

genres: postmodern horror (?) with traces of comedy--fundamentally a road trip story, though, about healing and facing the horrors head-on.

vibes except it's not clear what these mean: late nights at sleepovers where no one wants to go to bed yet, a mason jar full of bottle caps, the highs and lows of a long road trip with your friends, strange messages on the radio in a voice you thought you'd forgotten, the past is always one step closer than it appears to be, the coppery taste of blood on your tongue, your heart pounding in your ears as the world roars around you, a group of queer adrenaline junkies, "therapy is expensive, but sitting in your car while it rains is free."

characters:

picrew: [link]

Roach - 29 - they/them - 5'2"

Roach is not the face of Cyclone Seekers, as they find the idea of actually appearing on camera daunting. For the most part, Roach prefers to stay behind the scenes, most often handling their budget, equipment, and transportation, as well as acting as their cameraman. A lifelong smartass, they always say exactly what's on their mind and they're not particularly graceful or tactful. Why would they be, after all? Talking around the point only wastes time, and Roach hates to stop when there's important shit to get done.

Despite their blunt and often rude nature, Roach has a big heart deep down, and they care deeply for their fellow Cyclone Seekers, considering the others their best friends in the world. Roach doesn't have a lot of people in their corner, and they're steadfastly loyal to the end.

Oliver Cox - 32 - he/him - 6'1"

Oliver, like Roach, is not the face of the Cyclone Seekers. Instead, he is the manager of their ViewTube channel and website, as well as the one who usually deals with the people side of things. He's very sweet and enthusiastic, and generally a very gentle man who hates to even raise his voice. While, like everyone else, Oliver has his moments of anger, he prefers to redirect this anger into something productive rather than taking it out on others.

This isn't to say, of course, that Oliver is an innocent child. He's had his fair share of hardships and struggles in his life. However, he believes wholeheartedly in the goodness of humanity and the world around him. And this extends to the team, especially Roach--despite their often prickly exterior, Oliver considers them a very dear friend and is very happy to have them in his life. He sees the best in everyone until they give him reason not to.

Sydney "Syd" Ambrose - 29 - they/she - 5'11"

Syd is a friend of Roach's from college, an extremely anxious person who, at heart, has always wanted to leave their mark on history in some way. With their thirtieth birthday rapidly approaching, they want to do something great before the big day. This has, in part, reflected on their work with the Cyclone Seekers. As one of two hosts of the show, Syd is often in the spotlight, despite their severe anxiety about public speaking. When the cameras are rolling, their fear falls away, and they easily steal the show.

Aside from their ambition to do something great that lands in the history books, Syd has had a lifelong fascination with storms. The world of more traditional meteorology wasn't for them, so they've decided a more fulfilling career is to chase storms around and study them directly. It's working out so far, despite Syd's growing restlessness regarding the group's lack of mainstream success.

Yara Key - 30 - she/her - 5'7"

Yara is the other host of the Cyclone Seekers, and she's the much more outwardly optimistic and outgoing one. Their bit on the show is that, though Syd is the anxious one, they're also first to jump headlong into danger just to get a good look at a tornado; Yara, meanwhile, is friendly and outgoing but also the first to hide. It's a good bit and one that brings her a lot of joy, though it does irritate her sometimes to have people assume she's actually a coward. Because she isn't--she's just not stupid.

Though Yara hasn't known the others that long, she's a loyal friend who cares about them all deeply, and her not-so-secret crush on Syd is something Roach teases her about rather frequently (to which she gladly responds by teasing them about their similar crush on Oliver). When it comes down to it, fame isn't important to Yara, but she has a genuine love for entertaining people. And if she can do it while educating them about dangerous storms at the same time? All the better.

Vincent Cruz - 28 - he/him (questioning they/them) - 5'9"

Vincent Cruz is not a member of the Cyclone Seekers, nor does he have any particular interest in joining their little group. In fact, he thinks they're pretty ridiculous, and more than that, they're fucking stupid. He's grown up his whole life in a small town in Nebraska and knows all-too-well how dangerous storms like the ones they seek out can really be. They're going to get themselves killed, and they'll be lucky if it's quick.

However, Vincent feels an obligation to help them, or at least to make sure they can't put themselves or anyone else at risk with their antics. He isn't sure what makes him feel such a desire to protect them, but he insists it's not out of any care for them. They're just stupid. If he doesn't do anything, then they'll die. Simple math. (Ignoring the fact that they're his first friends in years, and they seem to genuinely like him for who he is when few others do.)

Vulture - 31 - he/him - 6'2"

A mysterious figure from Roach's past, one that they, until now, were completely certain was out of their life forever. Vulture is cold and cruel and pretentious, seeing himself as quite literally better than everyone else. He loves to hear himself talk and wants everyone to think he's the coolest motherfucker in the room at all times, for better and for worse.

For the most part, he doesn't seem interested in Roach, for which they're grateful. However, he has been contacting them again for the first time in nearly ten years, asking to meet up again.

[muuurder]

As of now, Link is a disabled king. Hope y’all know that.

[keeps-ache]

my computer wants to update so bad. which is a real shame,

[ungratefulbeyotchhotline]

guess who ive been thinking about

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

I hope you enjoyed the GILF

Thorn Fairy; Every time you question my motives, you have to wait another decade for your soul match. Don't worry, they are worth it.

Lilia; ... What kind of reasoning is that?!

Thorn Fairy; Now it's twenty! How splendid!

And here's a potential design for Lilia's Bat-tastic shirt.

Of Truths and Dreams; Lilia Vanrouge

Dreams can tell a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty.

Supporting Characters; Baul (for a second), Sebek Zigvolt

Content; Soulmate AU (I call them soul matches), gender neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, Chapter 7 spoilers, hurt/comfort, some General Vanrouge

Content Warning; Chapter 7 spoilers, war, death (talk, I don't describe it), angst? (idk man)

Word Count; 5.5 K

Don't put my works into AI, as AI steals in order to "create".

Sebek's Story (next WIP) | Malleus's Story (TBD)

The Thorn Fairy had gifted a blessing to the fae, a blessing of soul matches. 

A connection forged between two souls. Such a connection is rare, and different variations do occur; primarily in beastmen and merfolk. Each clan had their unique soul match bonds. And the fae were no different. However, their history was not written down on paper, or carved into the corals. The information and history of fae soul matches was an oral history, passed down from generation to generation through hushed tones. 

To outsiders, they shrugged it off as just another odd behaviour of the clan, but the fae had good reason to be wary. In the past, the knowledge of fae soul matches was shared with an outsider, and because of that blunder of misplaced trust, the royal family was targeted. But that was many a queen’s reign ago. But the fae do not forget such transgressions, no; that story, that history, is used as a warning. Tell no one but whom you would trust your life with any information regarding your soul match, lest it be used against you. No one outside of the fae, save for their soul match, is to know of this most treasured bond.

Despite the secretiveness of fae soul matches, they were celebrated once they manifested themselves, as they were a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. There is a catch though; due to their long life spans, it can take years, decades, or even centuries in the very rare and unfortunate cases, for the bond between soul match partners to manifest itself. The only thing more unfortunate than it taking centuries is if their soul match were human… for a human lifespan is only a fraction that of even the more short-lived fae clans. It was seen as a tragedy, a doomed pairing from the beginning, with a heartbroken fae as the only possible answer. Such pairings were pitied, and seen as bad luck.

But what does the bond between soul matches take the form of within the fae? What does the Thorn Fairy’s blessing of soul matches look like?

There are many speculations on that. Many scholars say it is a mark on the body; a mole, or three scratches. But that is not correct. It is not a shared song, a stone messenger, or a coloured thread on their finger. And there is a written record of the bond as well; one just has to dig deep into the records, scrolls, and tomes that exist within the library of the former castle of the Draconia’s.

It is also a melody, a hum on the lips of many fae if by chance you are able to hear it. I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. The soul match bonds between the fae and their match took the form of shared dreams, tinted the colour of their soul. They cannot truly see the other, or speak to each other, but the gleam in their eyes is one that will stay in their mind, as it is so familiar a gleam. 

…

…

…

Rest is a luxury, a luxury that Lilia could not spare. The war would not wait for the general to be well rested, or wait for him to have a nap. No, it would continue until it either ended with one side coming out the victor, or it would end with peace negotiations. Rest can wait. But the fae in his company were sleeping, and he was on the first watch.

But there was something else which made him avoid resting; his dreams. His dreams were black and white, devoid of any colour, and he was always alone in them. Yes, there may be other people, but they didn’t interact. His soul match was nowhere to be seen. Three hundred years and there has been absolutely nothing.

He wasn’t alone on watch duty though, Baul was beside him, staring out into the dark. 

“You need to rest,” he huffed, shooting a look towards Lilia from the corner of his eye. 

Lilia quirked a brow, but his gaze did not waver from the darkness of the forest. There was something out there, waiting. “I can rest when this is over.” His voice was cold, sharp, like that of a blade. “I cannot rest while a war is still being fought on our lands.”

Baul pushed his shoulders back and turned his eyes back to the darkness of the forest. “General, if you do not rest, it will eventually catch up to you. Whether you like it or not.” 

He was right, if Lilia did sleep, it would eventually catch up with him in the worst possible moment. The last thing that he needed was to fall into a microsleep in the middle of battle. Thirty seconds of vulnerability in the heat of conflict could spell the very end for him. He let out a tired sigh, “I suppose you are right. When our shift is over I can rest.”

After an uneventful night watch, save for the crack of a stick in the distance — which turned out to be nothing more than just a deer passing through — Lilia turned in for the night in his tent. He stared up to the ceiling, and tried to fall asleep, but the harder he tried the more difficult it became, but eventually exhaustion won over frustration and Lilia fell asleep.

His dream was black and white, as always. They have been devoid of colour for the past three hundred years, so why would they be any different now?

He was a child again, playing in a flower meadow with Malenoa and Levan. Well, Malenoa was playing whereas Levan had been dragged along against his will. And Lilia? Well, wherever the crown princess went, he followed; part of it being that they were friends, the other being that he was raised alongside her and swore to protect her.

“Lilia! Come on,” Malenoa shouted from across the glen, a big smile on her face. “Last one to the thicket is a rotten egg!” And she took off, dragging Levan behind her, the young boy letting out an undignified squawk.

Lilia gave chase, a peel of laughter escaping his lips. “That’s not fair! You got a head’s start!” He eventually caught up to the two royals at the large rose thicket on the outskirts of the meadow. “I guess I’m the rotten egg,” he huffed before sitting down next to a dishevelled looking Levan.

He didn’t really understand why the Thorn Fairy had bonded them together, Malenoa and Levan couldn’t be more opposite of each other. But soul matches do work in mysterious ways… But Lilia wondered when the Thorn Fairy would place that blessing onto him. He had spent, and would spend, his life serving the royal family after the queen had taken him in, so why didn’t the first of the royal bloodline deem him worthy?

Malenoa was looking at the roses until she found one that she liked. She plucked it from the stem, whispered a quiet thank you to the briar patch, and then placed it behind Lilia’s ear. A baby pink rose, but he could not see the colour of the flower, only that it was pale. A stark contrast against Lilia’s jet black hair.

“What’s that for,” he asked but did not dare remove the flower. He should have been used to Malenoa’s antics by now, but she still caught him off guard despite their time spent together.

Malenoa hummed, “Pink suits you, plus since you were the rotten egg, you stunk so badly that you needed the rose to cover up the smell.” She stuck out her tongue and pinched her nose with her fingers, giggling. “A stinky, stinky egg! Right, Levan?”

Levan looked tired, but he nodded his head. “Unfortunately it seems so.” He coughed, trying to cover up the chortle that nearly escaped his lips.

The easy nature of the dream shifted, the briars from the rose thicket separating Lilia from Malenoa and Levan. The thicket then caught on fire, smoking out the dream (the memory?) in a thick, dark, smoke.

Lilia woke with a start, and placed his hand over his heart. It was beating fast, and he was covered in sweat. He then heard a commotion coming from outside, and it wasn’t the usual squabbling he heard as people tried to barter over the best breakfast options.

He strided out into the camp, and he didn’t make it very far until one of the soldiers came clamouring over to him, tripping over their feet in the process.

“G-general!” They heaved, looking pale. “N-news! From the front lines!” They handed him a scroll before taking back off to their tent.

Lilia opened the scroll and his eyes froze, pupils contracting into harsh slits. The parchment crumpled in his tight fist, but he regained his composure. They had a war to end, but Lilia’s mission had shifted from that of victory for country. It had shifted to justice; to serve justice to the murders of Malenoa. For his friend, his family, for Levan, and for her unhatched egg; the hope, and now only future, for the Draconias.

…

…

…

Another four hundred years had passed, and Lilia’s dreams were still black and white. And where he may have had been bitter in his younger years, he no longer held that resentment. Yes, he still questioned why he had not received a soul match, but he had accepted that it was simply not to be. Besides, he now had more meaning in his life. He had been many things in his life; a friend, a soldier, an advisor, and now, a father. The silver haired baby that he had found years ago, Silver, was everything Lilia could ever really ask for. He loved Malleus, but not to the same degree as Silver; Malleus was the heir to the throne above all else.

Lilia was content with how things currently were, happy even. He had found his purpose.

“Hmm, this school year should prove interesting,” he hummed to himself. The ceremony was today, and it proved to be a most interesting one at that. He did wonder what the newcomer, the one not suitable to any dorm, would do. They didn’t seem like the type to just leave things alone. He shook his head though, and made himself comfortable in his bed, turning in for the night.

He was in the meadow of his youth again, but it was now overgrown. The vines from the rose thicket choking out all of the other flowers and grasses. And all but one rose was withered away. And this single rose was pink. Lilia could see colour, and the pink bled into the rest of the dream, casting everything in a rose-tinted light. 

After seven hundred years, the Thorn Fairy had finally answered his call. And everything was pink. “After all this time, now you have decided they can enter my life,” he whispered, looking directly at the rose. 

If he were younger, he would have been overjoyed, but Lilia knew that he did not have the commodity of time at his side. Despite the fae’s long lifespan, he was old, and his magic reservoir was running low. And the bitterness that he had since forgotten reappeared. “Why would you put them through this?”

He turned on his heel, but stopped. At the edge of the meadow was his soul match, he could not make out their face, appearance, nor their voice, but he knew it was them. “You should leave.” His words were not spoken, but were instead written in the air in glowing pink letters. But instead of turning around and leaving, they took a step forward, and then another, before coming to rest in front of Lilia.

“Who are you,” their words were written in pink letters, just like his. And even though he could not see their face, he could distinctly tell they wore an expression of confusion. “And why is everything pink?”

Lilia woke up to the sounds of his alarm going off, ripping him out of the dream. Why is everything pink? His soul match didn’t know what the colour ment, which could only mean one thing; his match was not fae. His soul match was mortal. And that revelation made a lump form in his throat.

He was worried about his soul match outliving him, that the possibility that he would outlive them never crossed his mind. Why had the Thorn Fairy chosen them? Why did she gift him an ending that would end in heartbreak?

…

…

Ever since finding yourself in Twisted Wonderland you started keeping a dream journal. Alongside the weird, and sometimes downright disturbing, dreams about future overblots, you had rose-tinted ones with a stranger in them. But they kept their distance. And you hadn’t found any answers for them. 

“Human!” The sharp shout from Sebek tore you away from your thoughts, as the first-year student was incredibly… loud. “Do you know how rude it is to ignore somebody when they are talking?! Did you not sleep last night?!” 

In the few months that you’ve been stuck here, you came to call the abrasive Diasomnia student a reluctant friend. He may be prickly, but it was his own way of showing that he cared… in his own roundabout way which usually involved yelling and non-intentional insults. 

Did you not sleep last night?! Yes, but it was anything but restful.

You were in the midst of a battlefield, which was now long over. The only evidence being the hollow armour of warriors long fallen. And, as in all of your dreams, there were roses everywhere. Their thorny vines creating a wall, trapping you and the pink stranger in together.

This wasn’t your dream, it was their’s… or more like a memory? It was all way too centred in reality, in mourning and loss, to be a dream. What did they live through?

“What happened here?” Your words floated gently in the air and only disappeared when the stranger noticed them.

They picked up a broken spear and held it gently in their grasp. “What do you think? War. War is what happened here.” Their words floated in front of you, and you could see the weight of them on their shoulders. “The dreams of many died here, the only thing remaining of them being the armour that was supposed to protect them.”

What the hell have they lived through? “... were you there?” 

The dream shifted, no longer were you standing on a long forgotten battlefield, now reclaimed by nature, but you were now sitting in a dark castle. Not even the pink hue over everything could brighten it.

The stranger went up the stairs. Go away, can you not tell I am not the best person for you? Our story will only end in hurt. But they said none of that, continuing to go up the long winding staircase. “Did you hear me? I asked you if you were there!” You yelled after them, following them up the spiralling staircase until the both of you came to a halt in front of a large wooden door, scorched at the bottom.

“Yes,” the words floated in your face before fading away. “I was there… I led the battle. I led them to death.”

I led them to death. You were sweating buckets, but before you knew what you were doing you wrote down a note in your dream journal

Roses. Thorns. Battle. Magic. War. You had no real idea what it all meant, but it was somewhere to start. A step in the direction of figuring what it all meant

“No,” you said, avoiding Sebek’s concerned gaze, “I didn’t sleep well… not at all.” You hadn’t slept soundly in weeks. You hadn’t had a pleasant dream since you woke up here. “Nightmares,” you whispered, “night after night. And a stranger, the same stranger, who is avoiding me.”

Sebek’s face paled, and he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Human,” his voice was now quiet, guarded. He led you to a classroom and made sure no one was around. “Are these dreams a certain colour? Do words float in the air? Can you not make out their face?” Even though this was the quietest that he has spoken, it was also the most serious Sebek had been with you. 

You nodded your head, “All of that, yes. How did you know?” Your brows pinched, and you let out a deep sigh. “Sebek, if you know something, please, just tell me.”

Sebek was fighting a war in his head; tell the truth to you, or keep the fae soul match a secret. But the dark bags under your eyes told him enough. “You have a soul match, and they are fae. I’m… sorry.”

The bell rang and he was off to his next class, leaving you alone with this world altering information. I have a soul match? They’re fae? … why did he look so sad for me?

…

…

…

Lilia noticed something off about Sebek the moment he walked, or rather stormed, to the confines of his room. So, he followed, gently knocking at the door, waiting for an answer.

“May I come in?”

He heard Sebek scramble up and open the door. “Of course, Lilia-sama!” He was just like his grandfather; loud, a bit too stiff for his own good, but loyal, almost to a fault. 

Lilia walked over to the bed, and patted the spot beside him. “Come, sit. You seem to be carrying quite the burden.” He had noticed Sebek’s odd behaviour all day, and it wasn’t like him to do so. “Come now, out with it.”

Sebek picked at a loose thread on his bedding, and massaged his temple. “It’s about soul matches.”

Lilia felt the lump in his throat form again. “What about them? They are a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. Who are we to question her decision-”

“A human disclosed that they have a soul match, a fae soul match. And I told them that. I broke the oath to not tell anyone!” Sebek clenched his fists and looked down at the floor. “They aren’t even my soul match, and I told them!”

Lilia placed his hand on Sebek’s back, and started patting him on the back. A gesture that meant everything was going to be okay. “Well,” a breathy chuckle escaped his lips, a soft smile on his face, “they deserve to know what is ahead of them, do they not?”

Like I have been trying to tell mine, but they still have not left it alone. They keep on showing up, night after night.

Sebek seemed to calm down, but there was still a lot weighing heavy in his mind. “It’s not my place to talk. It is for them, and their match to decide. But,” he took a deep breath, and that familiar intensity in his eyes was back, “I can’t help but worry.”

Lilia recognized the look in his pseudo-adopted son’s eyes, it all too well reflected the look Baul would get before battle. And this was Sebek, concerned for a human, which would only mean one thing; whoever they were, they were a friend of his. And that narrowed everything down. Time to do some sleuthing of my own. “They’re strong, most likely stubborn. They shall be fine,” his voice was light, trying to brighten the atmosphere of the room. “It’s late, you should really get some rest.”

With that, Lilia walked out of the room and softly closed the door. There was something that he needed to do tonight, in his dream.

…

…

This dream was different from all the others. There were no signs of the thorny brambles of roses. There were no signs of war. No, instead Lilia found himself in the courtyard of Night Raven College, the sun high overhead and a slight breeze playing with loose leaves. This wasn’t his dream; it was his soul match’s. And you were sitting under a tree, looking up at the sky, just watching the clouds pass by. 

“This is a nice change of pace,” the pink words drifted slowly in the wind. “Better than nightmares and bad memories.”

Lilia felt a twinge of guilt. Better than nightmares and bad memories. Those were his doing. And instead of him being subjected to your nightmares and memories that you would rather forget, the both of them were here, in a quiet moment in time. There was no war, there was no loss. There was only you and Lilia, and an easy feeling. “You are too kind,” he sighed. Thank you. That is what he meant.

You hummed, “I can’t control my dreams, so it’s really just a fluke.” You sighed and rested your head against the tree, closing your eyes and enjoying the filtered sunlight. “I’m just happy it’s a pleasant one.”

“As am I,” he took a seat next to you and looked up to the sky, watching the clouds aimlessly pass by. I need to tell them. “It is cruel, what the Thorn Fairy has done to you. Gifting you a fae soul match.”

You turned your head towards him. Even though you couldn’t truly see who they were, you could see that they carried a lot on their shoulders. You didn’t say anything though, but instead offered your silence as an indicator for him to continue.

“How much do you know about soul matches?” It is their and their soul match’s decision. He wanted to tell them everything, so that they could decide for themself if they wanted him in their life.

You sighed. So now they decide to tell me? “Pretty much nothin’. Just the basics; soul matches exist, which I can kinda infer what it means, they’re gifted by the Thorn Fairy, and you’re fae. I have found absolutely nothing that even talks about the subject, and nobody but my one friend has mentioned it.”

Nobody but my one friend has mentioned it. Were they friends with Sebek? That would narrow down everything drastically, and would also explain why they were relaxing at Night Raven College in their dream. Lilia knew them. They were already closer than he ever thought. 

“So, please,” you turned to look at the stranger, your soul match, eyes gleaming gently. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

So he did, he and you sat under the tree for the entirety of the dream, discussing what soul matches were, the different forms and bonds they come in, and what you could expect from this. 

I know you, that look in your eye is so familiar a gleam.

…

…

Ever since that dream from a few days ago, you have noticed your soul match get more playful and teasing in your dreams. They no longer held you at a distance, it was a drastic but welcomed change. The cold was gone, and instead there was warmth. But something still felt off. With everything that has happened, with seeing each other's dreams and memories, you still didn’t know who they were. And everytime you tried to tell them your name, the words didn’t form. It was annoying.

“Something on your mind, Prefect,” a familiar teasing voice chuckled from behind you. Lilia shot you a teasing smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. He used to startle you whenever he decided to sneak up on you, but you grew accustomed to his playful nature. 

You shot him a look, but then shook your head and chuckled. “Just thinking is all. What about you?” You had noticed that Lilia had gotten more lively, the dark cloud that seemed to hang around him for the past few weeks had seemed to vanish. “You seem to be in a more chipper mood,” you chuckled.

 He gave you a quiet chortle, the only real evidence of it being the subtle movement of his shoulders and the quiet exhale from his lips. His magenta eyes gleamed softly in the dim lighting of the hallway. They were familiar, but you could have sworn that you had seen them somewhere before, but the answer was avoiding you.

“Just a lot has happened is all, and it brought a surprise with it.” Lilia was cryptic, but it was a part of his odd charm. A mix of something old beyond your years, and a more youthful impishness. It was endearing.

He reminded you of somebody, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. “Fine then, old man, keep your secrets. One day I’ll make you spill.”

The two of you exploded with laughter, and Lilia patted you on the shoulder. “Maybe someday. I’ll be looking forward to it, Prefect.” He waved you goodbye as he made his way to his next class. Leaving you alone in the hallway. 

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to your next class, History of Magic, where Trein was preparing on his lecture to tell the first years about the fae-human wars. Something that you had already witnessed the aftermath of, despite not knowing it at the time. After all, that’s what that one dream was about; the one of the meadow, the rose briars, and the rusting armour laying half buried in the earth. But you didn’t know the true horrors of war, and your soul match made sure that you would never have to witness what he had.

…

…

…

You were back in the meadow, in the middle of the fray. No longer were the rusted armours and broken weapons half buried, their wielders were alive again, and you were caught in the middle of it. The sky was an angry shade of pink, and thunder rumbled ominous in the distance… nope that was cannon fire.

Everything was absolute chaos, and you were thankful that nothing could harm you in the dreams, but that didn’t make you flinch any less whenever a ghost arrow flied through the air. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call you the ghost. You weren’t going to dwell on that though, since you didn’t want to push your luck. Something you seemed to be in short supply of.

You saw a flash in front of you, and a bat-masked figure was in front of you, glowing red eyes staring at you, before running back into the battle. Even though this was a dream, you could have sworn that they saw you. And then you were ripped away from the battle ground, being pulled up by your underarms. Looking up you saw the fuzzy and distorted visage of your soul match, pulling you away from danger.

“What were you doing?!” They snapped at you. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could infer their tone and emotion from their body language and you know, hauling your ass away from danger.

You patted their forearm, and looked back down to the flashes of magic and metal gleaming in the waning light of the setting sun. “Were you here? This is more than a dream, isn’t it? This is a memory.” 

Dreams are often a flight of fancy, but for Lilia, and for you, they were more than randomly concocted scenarios played out by the sleeping mind. These dreams held truth, the dreams were memories. And this memory showed the most impactful one.

“How many?”

That statement could mean so many things. It could mean how many battles. How many lives were lost. How many lives had he taken. “Too many to count,” is what he decided on saying. It was true though, Lilia had lost count of how many times he had done all of those things. “You must think of me as cruel,” a sad yet harsh laugh left his mouth, and he looked down at you. “A monster.”

You looked back. There was sadness in your match’s eyes, but also a tiredness. “I don’t think you’re a monster, or cruel though.”

Lilia looked into your eyes. You were being honest, sincere, and your eyes showed that. They were the only part of you that he could clearly make out. They were familiar, they were warm. “I am down there though, leading the assault… against the humans.” Against you.

“The past is the past. What is done, is done. We can’t change that.” Leading the assault… didn’t Professor Trein talk about the wars today? “I won’t judge you based on your past, especially if you’re super old which I know pretty well that your are, gramps. But you can’t change it. It has left its scars, but what matters most is the present and what lies ahead.”

You were right, and Lilia felt foolish to let that small part of himself, the insecurity of not being wanted, fester. “I’m the old one? You sound far more wiser than your years… you whippersnapper.”

The battle faded away, and the two of you floated down to the meadow. It had morphed, morphed back into the meadow of Lilia’s youth; filled with wildflowers, grasses, and the rose thicket was in full bloom. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the laughter of a young girl in the breeze as a raven flew overhead.

…

…

Lilia needed to find you. Your dreams were filled with premonitions, and they sat heavy in his mind at the repercussions they could make. They sent off alarm bells in his mind. Lilia was in a tizzy. I have to find them.

His magic was running out, and he knew that his lifespan had shortened drastically. He would be lucky to live another sixty or seventy years, which was nothing in the eyes of many fae. But that was a human lifetime. A lifetime that could be spent with not just Silver and Sebek, but you. He wanted to find you. He didn’t care what form your soul match bond took; be it like the relationship of family, of friends, or of lovers. He wanted to find you, needed to find you.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Those eyes, they were the only part of you that he could ever make out. Eyes filled with mischief, responsibility, curiosity, and kindness. He knew those eyes. They were your eyes, the Ramshackle Prefect’s eyes. How could I be so blind?

It made all too much sense. The dreams had only started when you showed up. He felt drawn to you, like a moth to flame. It made sense that you would be the human that had made Sebek drop his guard and tell a human about fae soul matches. It made all of the sense in the world. And it had taken until now for him to realise. Perhaps he really was an ‘old man’ and already going senile like you joked, both in and out of the dreams.

That is how he came to find himself at your front door, in the middle of the night, still wearing his hot pink and neon green pyjamas. All because of the one dream, the most recent dream of overblot, and his own realisation of who you truly were. So he knocked three times, and waited for you to come down.

You groaned awake, the faint memory of the dream still weighing heavy on your mind. I can never catch a break, huh? I swear if it’s Ace I’m going to drop kick him. You begrudgingly made your way to the front door, and opened it right as a yawn escaped your mouth. “Lilia?”

What was Lilia doing at your front door? It was like two in the morning… although his bat print pyjamas were pretty great. Was that ‘Bat-tastic’ written in swirly font? Where in Twisted Wonderland had he found that?

“What are you doing here?” Was what you said instead. 

“Do you recognize me,” he whispered, taking your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Recognize you? “Your Lilia, of course I recognize you, old man.”

He looked at you, magenta eyes practically glowing in the dark. Familiar magenta eyes. Eyes that held such familiar a gleam… as if you had seen them countless times in your dreams, tinted a paler shade of the colour. “Prefect, have we met before? I could have sworn that I met you… once upon a dream?”

It all made sense. It all made sense. The coldness at first, the memories of war, the playfulness. Why everything was pink. Your match, the perceived stranger, was no stranger at all. They were Lilia.

“So you’re them,” you said softly. “We’re soul matches?”

He shot you a playful wink, “It would seem so. And I’m happy that you are them, and they, you.”

All of those centuries spent alone, wondering why the Thorn Fairy had not granted him the blessing of having a soul match, and then the confusion of finally receiving one after years of nothing, now had an answer. It was you, and Lilia knew that the seven hundred years may have been lonely, but whatever time he had left, he would be more than happy to spend with you. 

Fin!

Author's Note; Enjoy this word vomit. If you want to read more, do check out my masterlist.

Tags; @xxoomiii @eynnwwyjth @twistwonderlanddevotee @savanaclaw1996 @identity-theft-101

[daenysx]

Hii can you write where james and reader are both the only virgins in the group so decided to do it together to get it over with but then they started to do it more often bcs james is absolutely obsessed with her.

thank you for requesting, i hope you like this! requests are open!!

james potter x fem!reader, nsfw

becoming experts

james thinks maybe he should be embarrassed.

here he is, knocking on your door, standing at your doorstep with your favorite dessert in his hand. this is the third time in this week, and it won't be the last. he fixes his posture, puts a little smile on his face, and knocks on your door again. he is fine.

you open the door, wearing only your sleep shorts and a little tank top, which is both a blessing and a curse for james's poor heart. your hair seems a little messy, your face without any make up, and you look beautiful. your lips curve upwards when you see james at your doorstep, you are quick to pull him inside.

"hi, sweetheart." james says as he steps inside. "i hope this is not a bad time."

you look at him like he's said the silliest thing in the world. "come on, jamie, you know there's no such a thing as bad time for you."

"yeah, yeah, i'm glad." why is he acting so out of character? suddenly he's shy, blushing when you point at his hand.

"is that for me?" you ask, kind of shy but more comfortable than him.

he nods. "of course, there you go."

he gives you the box and you take it with a huge smile on your face. "thank you!"

james's heart takes a leap.

you lead him inside, your little living room looks cozy with all those blankets spread on your couch and the warm air covering the room. you take the dessert with two spoons, sitting on the couch and inviting james next to you. he takes off his jacket and kicks his shoes, sits next to you, hoping to be less awkward in the next moments of this act.

"would you like something to drink?" you ask.

james shakes his head. "no, maybe later."

you nod, taking a spoonful of your dessert. "this is perfect. literally the best thing in the world, thank you so much."

james laughs. "you're welcome, angel."

you look at his unused spoon. "why don't you eat?"

he doesn't know. his mouth is dry, he should get a grip on himself. "i'm-"

your lips look perfect around that spoon.

"you've got chocolate- here." he leans into your space slowly.

you smile, his fingers cup your cheek. "this is so cliche."

"you think so?" he whispers.

"you know," you begin. "if you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask."

james leans back on the couch, suddenly free of shyness to jump on the opportunity. "what if i want more than just a kiss?"

"i'm sure we can do something about that." you take another spoon of chocolate sauce.

"oh, baby." james says, pulling you to his lap. "come here."

your hands are empty, you move quickly to him. your legs are on each side of his thighs and you sit gently. "how do you feel?" he asks, holding your hands.

"i'm fine. really, really good."

"you sound unnaturally teasing. i thought that was supposed to be me."

you shrug. "i don't know, you act weird today. it's not like this is the first time we're being this close."

the best night of james's life was probably the night he'd spend at your apartment, in your bed. you were naked, so was he, the wine was kicking like a liquid courage as you had sex for the first time. you could expect weirdness between you two, you were both each other's first time and you had been friends for years, but it never happened. it felt so good and so right, james lost himself between your legs and you made sounds that you've never made before.

you were both inexperienced, subject of sirius's little teasings and remus's sympathetic looks when it comes to stuff about sex. you don't know how did things happened as they have that night, but suddenly you were kissing james. you could be afraid if this would ruin your friendship but at that moment everything was so good, you could never imagine the act could ever feel like this.

since that night, james had been to your apartment once more. he was just trying to make sure everything's okay between you and your friendship still stands. then, he was taking off his clothes and you were leaning towards him. you took his cock in your mouth for the first time and james forgot everything except your name.

now, here you are, trying to balance yourself on james's lap, keeping yourself still to not press against him. "james," you say. "it's okay. i- i want you too."

james throws his head back, his hands still holding yours. he looks at you through his glasses and smiles. "i just want you to feel good."

"i'm always feeling good when i'm with you." you say, honestly. "i think we fit each other really well and i- i want it, with you."

"yeah?" james pulls you closer. "you want it, pretty girl?"

you nod. james continues. "i guess we've got addicted." he says like it's a secret. "but that's okay. we can keep going as long as you're good with it."

you start the kiss and james exhales, finally. he cups your cheeks, angles your neck to deepen the kiss. you taste sweet, he licks the chocolate left on your lips. you whimper quietly, feeling him harden under you. this is good, you think. this is so perfect, it doesn't feel any wrong.

james's hands go to your back and he rubs your skin affectionally. he breaks the kiss to brush his lips on your pulse point. you take a breath, holding onto his shoulders. "james." you say. "i wanna go to bed."

he obliges, lifts you easily, and carries you to your bedroom. he is gentle when he puts you on bed, you are quick to take off your clothes. you are not shy to be naked around him, he makes you feel safe. you throw your clothes somewhere on the floor and settle down on bed, watching james.

he looks at you, eyes focused, and mouth slightly open. is he dreaming? this surely is better than any dream, you are lovely as you lay there and wait for him.

he doesn't intend to tease you or make you wait. you've been so honest and sweet with him, you deserve to get what you want. james makes a quick work of his clothes, leaving everything on the floor until he is bare in front of you. he gets on his knees on bed and reaches you. you part your legs obediently, without expecting a word from him.

"you're so pretty, sweetheart." james says, fondly. "you know that, right?"

you squirm under his hands. "jamie, please."

"you should know that." he says, kisses your chest. "you should be aware of the power you have on me."

you shake your head. "it's mutual, and you're being silly."

"let me be romantic for a second, yeah?" he kisses your perked nipple. "fuck, gonna give you everything you want."

"please." you say, losing your breath when he sucks your nipple. he likes using his mouth on you, you realize. he slowly goes down on your body and you laugh when he kisses below your belly button.

"tickles?" he asks, ever so playful.

you nod. "will you do it again?"

he answers by kissing the same spot over and over, turns you into a mess under his mouth. his fingers are quick to touch your cunt, he collects the wetness that starts pooling and rubs it all over. "will you let me taste you?" he asks, begging for a yes. "i wonder if you taste so sweet everywhere."

"you- i guess you can, if you want." you arch your back, subtly press your cunt against his mouth.

"if i want? i'm dying for it."

he buries his face between your legs, tries to get directing noises out of you. he's not experienced but he finds himself to be a quick learner when it comes to you. he licks the wetness out of you and pushes his tongue inside. you wrap your legs around his neck, the sensation is so strange but suddenly it starts feeling good. you remember the second time you had sex and how you felt insatiable to take his cock in your mouth. he must feel that way right now, you think, because he never stops making those wild noises as he uses his mouth.

james sucks your clit relentlessly. you whimper, his name becomes a song. he grips your thighs and holds you in your place. "james- so close- so clo- hmm-"

he lifts his head just for a second. "come for me, lovely girl. let go for me, this is perfect."

you obey, arch your back as he sucks again, and you're dripping in his mouth. james keeps licking, helps you through your peak. you feel so tired, so exhausted, so naked, and it's good. james keeps you steady, his cock twitches at the sight of your cunt, all swollen and licked.

"are you okay, baby?" he coos. "we can stop."

you shake your head. you can't stop because he's addictive. "i want you inside." there's no crumb of shyness left. "please, i want it."

james angles you to be more comfortable, he rubs the skin of your thigh. "gotta be slow, okay?" he says.

you nod, messy and desperate. "however you want."

he positions his cock in just the right way. he is being slow and quiet as he keeps pushing, he knows it's a tight fit. when you clench around him he can't help himself, he goes a little fast. "oh, angel." he whispers, mouth closed on your neck. he pushes himself again. "so tight, just like the first time i got you like this. you're gonna make me come soon if you squeeze around me like that."

you part your legs a little more, holding onto his broad shoulders. "i like this so much. so full, jamie."

james starts moving inside you, still careful but easier. you try to move your hips accordingly, it's like a new dance both of you are trying to learn better. he is worried he'll come too soon, because you're being irresistable.

"can you touch me- right, right there?" you ask, position his fingers on your clit.

"yeah, yeah, of course."

his fingers play with you until you start begging for him to come. he keeps pushing himself until he can't see straight anymore. "can i come? james, can i come again?" you melt, so close and so wet, you can hear the wetness pooling on bed.

"yes, come on, sweet thing." he pushes the deepest he's ever been, you clench so hard, he starts coming. "come with me."

you are sure you lose your sight for a second. james explodes on your belly, his strength helps him pull himself back before coming inside you but he keeps playing with your clit so you clench around him and nothing as you come. you see him, you see stars, you feel so sensitive. james groans as he holds his cock to let out every drop of his cum. he exhales your name, desperate to lay down with you on the bed. you are quick to pull him on your chest, he puts his head on your body, and listens your heartbeat.

minutes pass in silence as you both catch your breaths. james rubs your skin with gentle fingers. you stroke his curls, and press a kiss on his forehead.

"i think we're getting pretty good at this." you say, smiling.

"yeah, i guess we are quite the experts of sex now." he says. "can you imagine sirius's reaction?"

"oh, he'd probably never believe it." you say. "but that's fine."

james sits on bed. "would you like to have shower? we've made quite the mess of each other."

you nod, reach for his hand as you sit next to him. "jamie," you begin, "there's no one else that i'd rather do this with. you're- you're the only one for me."

james smiles, kisses your forehead lovingly. "i'd hope so, sweetness." he gives your hand a squeeze. "you're the only one for me, as well."

♡

(you can check here to find out about sirius and remus's reactions lovelies.)

[kitten4sannie]

𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔡

pairing: san x fem! reader x mingi

genre: smut 

summary: minsan fuck you within an inch of your life <3

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: dom! minsan, sub! reader, san’s a meanie, mingi’s kinda a meanie but mainly a baby boy, himbo energy, threesome, somewhat heavy focus on mxm, spit roasting, spanking, face fucking, degradation, praise, name calling, kissing, facial, cum eating, snowballing, sloppy seconds, overstim, squirting, fingering, anal fingering (m receiving), masturbation, bulge kink, breeding kink, cum inflation (for a split second), creampies 

a/n: this was a request i got by a lovely anon <3 the concept of getting absolutely ruined by minsan is so goddamn hot,, i got really lost in the sauce this time around and i’m proud to say that this is actually just unapologetic filth and nothing else so i hope you enjoy~~

Masterlist

“Hey, be a little more gentle with her, San. She’s gonna break before I get a turn,” Mingi whined with a pout, releasing the grip he had on your hair to reach across your body and run his fingers along the section of your ass that still sported San’s sizable handprint, forcing his cock further into your throat, beads of saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your bulging neck and onto the already stained sheets below.

Positioned on the opposite side of Mingi with his cock drilling into your needy hole, San rolled his eyes, slamming both hands against your ass, his fingers sinking into your stinging skin and spreading it open slightly to watch his slick cock continuously get swallowed up by your hole. “You love it, don’t you, pretty slut?”

A muffled, though enthusiastic ‘mm-hmm’ left your occupied mouth.

“See, look. She wants me to break her, Min.” San hunched forward over your body, reaching for your jaw and holding it steady as Mingi continued to thrust more than half of his over-sized length into the small opening of your throat, feeling his fingers begin to grow wet with your spit. You felt his warm breath on your back and could practically hear his shit-eating smirk, not knowing his eyes were still on Mingi, simply because he couldn’t bring himself to stop watching him wreck your throat.  “Just look at her drooling all over herself like a brainless whore. She loves to get stuffed with cock, Min, that’s why we’re here,” San chimed, hoping he was educating his glossy-eyed, panting friend, giving him a crooked smile. 

“You’re–shit–right, San,” Mingi huffed out, sweat dripping past his choppy dyed hair and off of his sharp jaw, as he hunched over your body as well and reached out, gripping both sides of your ass. He spread you open further so that San could slide in and out even easier, forcing your back to arch painfully from the way you were sandwiched between them. 

San and Mingi found themselves in a similar position before, face to face, both balls-deep in a toy they preferred to share together, cocks throbbing away as they gazed at each other’s flushed, pleasure-struck faces, unable to ignore the presence of one another’s plush lips.

“Min, lemme taste you,” San mumbled, his hand moving from your jaw to your neck to clutch it, simply to feel the heaviness of his friend’s cock against his fingers as it slipped in and out of your throat. Your gurgled noises of approval and shiny, slicked-up cunt went unnoticed once San and Mingi’s lips collided, each getting a fair share of one another’s spit, their tongues eagerly licking into each other’s groaning mouths.

When Mingi was done exploring San’s open mouth, San took the lead and sucked his friend’s larger tongue into his own mouth, his flushed cheeks hallowing slightly. When he heard a whimper, San opened his eyes to witness Mingi’s big brown eyes looking right back at him. Swallowing their combined saliva down with a gulp, San let go of your throat to grab Mingi’s chin, one hand still cemented on your hip, making sure he didn’t miss a single beat when it came to drilling himself into your sopping wet hole. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, MinMin? Huh? Are you gonna spill your load inside her tiny throat and make a big mess?” he asked in a patronizing tone, his ego growing in size when Mingi whimpered more and nodded his head quickly, a bit a drool falling from his lips. San’s dark eyes sharpened, the sides of his lips curling into a salacious smile. “Then fucking do it.”

“Okay, m’ gonna fill her fuckhole with my cum, Sannie,” Mingi exhaled delightedly, reaching down and gripping the sides of your head, suddenly pistoning his oversized length into your throat, making you gurgle and choke on it, tears spilling down your heated cheeks.

San nodded his head in agreement, wrapping his fingers around your waist so firmly, his nails left indents. “Yeah, you are. Fill her slutty little throat.” Feeling you clench tightly around him, San groaned gutturally, his eyes just about rolling into his skull, responding by jackhammering himself into your dripping cunt as quickly as he could, the sounds of your muffled cries almost louder than the lewd sound of his balls smacking against your slick skin. “Fuck, baby, you’re about to cum all over my cock just from being our own personal fuckdoll, huh?” 

A strained, muffled sound of approval exited your throat, only able to take being pounded into from both sides once more, before the dam inside you broke. Your body shuddered and your limbs almost gave out underneath you, completely zoning out from the bliss until Mingi’s cockhead slapped down onto your cheek, hot spurts of white splattering out onto your face. This was followed by something hot and sticky painting your inner walls, some of it leaking out past San’s softening length. “Fuck,” was all you could choke out, your voice a bit scratchy and deep after the abuse your throat took. 

San smiled to himself, gently rubbing your hips in soothing circles, his lower half still flush to yours. “I would pull out, but I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to knock you up, baby.” 

Turning your head back to look up at San, you licked at your lips, tasting the saltiness of Mingi’s load on your tongue. “Good.” 

San beamed at your reaction, his cock starting to harden inside you, wanting to degrade you but choosing to focus on the cum that Mingi left dripping down your flushed face. “What a messy girl. You should clean yourself up.” He slid in and out of you a bit, just to feel and listen to the filthy squelching sounds, before slowly pulling out and sitting on the mattress. 

Shuddering from the sensation of cum leaking out of you, you got up and sat back down on your knees, looking back and forth between the men, gathering up some of the lukewarm liquid on your face with two fingers. You began to suck and lick at them, moaning softly, beckoning the both of them closer once your other hand slipped in between your thighs to play with yourself. 

Slipping his hand around your waist, Mingi leaned in, running his hot tongue up the side of your cheek, collecting some of the milkiness for himself. “You’re so naughty, baby,” he whispered against your ear, his other hand clasping around one of your tits to squeeze and knead it, licking along your jawline. 

San was not far behind him, his mouth already attached to your neck to suck and lick at it, two of his thick fingers pushing into you and curling up to rub at your sensitive spot. The squeaking sound that escaped your lips made him smile against your skin, slowly kissing upwards until he got to your cheek, swiping his tiny tongue across your jaw to taste Mingi for himself. He grunted, looking over to his friend, still shoving his digits in and out of you, your juices accompanying the cum dripping down his wrist. “You need to drink more water, idiot.” 

“Huh?” Mingi mumbled absentmindedly, staring dumbly at San, remembering to grab your other tit to knead it as well, pinching your nipple between two fingers. “Something wrong with my cum?” 

“It tastes bad, you big dummy,” San hissed, removing his fingers from your cunt just as your pleasure began to crescendo, holding up his shiny, cum-coated fingers near all three of your faces. “Lick. This is what it’s supposed to taste like.” 

You pouted along with Mingi, for different reasons, licking between San’s pointer and middle finger, Mingi’s tongue joining yours to lap up the dripping cum. Before you knew it, you were passing the remaining liquid into Mingi’s open mouth using your tongue, spreading your legs open wider when his hand left your chest to cup your pussy, his palm rubbing eagerly against your swollen clit. 

San pushed his fingers in between the both of your moving mouths, his cock twitching painfully into his chiseled abdomen, barely able to take watching the both of your swap spit in such a fervent manner. Groaning, he grabbed Mingi’s shoulder and squeezed it, encouraging him to pull away and look at him with barely open eyes. 

“What is it, San?” he asked softly, licking at any remnants of cum and saliva that was left on his lips. 

“I need you to stuff her with your cock, Min.” He ran a hand through Mingi’s sweaty hair, smiling. “For me.” 

Mingi smiled back at San, his cock pulsing against your thigh. “Anything for you, bro.” 

-

Mingi had you in his lap on the edge of the bed, your back sticking against his heated bare chest, his large hands squeezing into your open thighs, his cock hitting your sweet spot relentlessly, so much so that your cum sprayed out of your pulsing cunt. It felt so goddamn good you were convinced that the stimulation was going to break your mind. It didn’t help that San was on his knees in between Mingi’s thighs, his fingers cupping his friend’s swollen balls and his mouth open to catch your squirt on his small pink tongue, his face soaked with your release. 

“That’s a good girl, do it again,” San praised, bringing his fingers up to rub them rapidly across your clit, pressing them harder into your bud when your hips tried to move away from his touch, not stopping until more clear liquid shot out of you and coated his already dripping tongue. “Fuck, that’s a good slut.” 

“No more,” you croaked out, your lower half so numb, you’d probably fold like a rag doll if Mingi wasn’t holding you in place. “I-i can’t!” 

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Mingi encouraged breathily, his deep voice penetrating your ears along with his heavy pants, sending a jolt of arousal into your core. He suddenly shuddered, emitting a surprisingly whiny moan upon feeling San’s tongue drag up his perineum to his sensitive balls, encouraging him to buck up into you to chase his high. 

San ran his palms up Mingi’s large thighs, squeezing into them the way Mingi was gripping yours, his thumbs teasing his friend’s puckering hole. Smirking at the sound of Mingi’s soft whimpering, San slipped a finger inside, feeling Mingi slowly begin to grind against it on his own.

Mingi’s jaw hung open, too consumed with lust to notice another finger sliding into him until he felt a sudden, powerful crackle of pleasure erupt from within his core. “Oh, fuck, that’s it, right there, right there,”  Mingi groaned, almost growling his words out, digging his fingers into your bruising skin and slamming himself into you even rapidly than before, sending you into a state of euphoria. 

San stroked himself vigorously, the muscles in his upper and lower arms straining so hard the veins bulged out, a bit of sweat sliding along his smirking face. “Oh, yeah? Does it feel that good, Min? Are you gonna cum in our plaything’s tight little cunt again?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah–” Mingi could hardly speak, his body and mind completely overloaded with pleasure, to the point that tears began to form inside his hazy eyes, so close that he couldn’t possibly control the whines and whimpers that were joining your own, the both of your bodies unconsciously moving in tandem so that you could reach your highs together. 

San took delight in the visual of his friend and fucktoy completely falling apart in front of him, his fist squeezing around his cockhead, pre-cum spilling out, the slick allowing him to pleasure himself as fast as possible.“Fuck–Pump…her full…nnngh…of your cum, Min. Please, just make her nice and full for me,” San practically begged, so close to his own high that he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. 

“Cumming, I’m cumminggg,” Mingi moaned whinily, slack jawed, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, letting go of one of your thighs to press his hand down against your lower abdomen, feeling the outline of his cock, swearing he felt your tummy bulge out ever so slightly the longer he drained his seemingly endless cumshot into your cunt. 

You couldn’t even begin to form words, your orgasm doing the talking for you, letting out a few small, stunted moans, your entire body seizing up, spilling your release all over Mingi’s lap. You were so gone, you hardly noticed San suddenly standing up in front of the both of you, whispering something dirty and slapping his cock down onto your used pussy, his load spurting out and coating your mound, mixing with Mingi’s load, as it was already seeping out of you and down your ass. 

“Pull out now, Min,” San commanded softly, watching Mingi slowly slide his cock out with a small squelch, lowering himself back down to the floor to get a close up view of the absolute mess that was pouring out of your used hole, his thumbs spreading you apart. You were stretched wide and filled up with so much cum, San was ready to shed a tear from such a beautiful sight. A moment of silence, mixed with quiet pants and sighs went by, before San came up with a brilliant plan. “Should we stuff her hole together?” 

Wiping some sweat away from his forehead, Mingi tilted his head to the side, perking up, as though he were intrigued. “Like cock to cock?” 

San licked at his lips, tasting you on them. “Yup.” 

Mingi mirrored him, licking at his plush lips as well, eventually sighing to himself. “Double stuffed…”

San nodded, chuckling. “That’s right.” 

Once he exchanged a sleazy look with his friend, Mingi slowly looked down at you, his gaze darkening.

“Yummy.” 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[to-thelakes]

heard ( carmy berzatto x reader )

content warnings; depiction of panic attack and anxiety, mentions of suicide/death (mikey), reader gets a cut (but super minor)

summary; you've had a really overwhelming day and carmy has to calm you down from a panic attack he mostly caused

dropping this here and running, i'm in love with carmy berzatto, i'm so sorry

Working at the Beef was stressful. Usually, you didn’t mind. In fact, you loved it. The stress meant that you didn’t have time to overthink anything because you were being ordered to do a million things all at once. It was good. You loved it.

But not today. 

Carmy had given you a new recipe to learn and you were fucking up creating the pea puree. Somehow it always ended up too runny and no matter how you changed the temperature while you cooked or how long you left it to reduce, it turned out like shit. Runny, tasteless shit.

It was like the universe had decided to take a cosmic shit on your already fucked up day.

You had left the house at the ass crack of dawn and unintentionally woken up your roommate who had decided to call you and berate you for your entire journey on the L. It’s safe to say you were regretting your 12 month lease with the roommate from hell. But you tried your best to swallow down all the cruel words and carry on with your day.

Work had always been a good distraction but it was two hours till service started and you felt like you were already losing it. You were sure everyone could see how you were cracking under the pressure too.

As you tried to learn the new dish, Carmen would come over every five or so minutes to check on your progress, taste the dish and you could see him getting increasingly frustrated under the surface. 

He had been unusually calm since the start of the day but the cracks were beginning to show. Since everyone had come in, Marcus had been distracted by his desserts which meant he had ignored all his usual prepwork. Carmy had kindly tried to remind him that desserts was not his job yet. Then Sydney and Richie had been arguing all morning which Carmy, of course, found himself in the middle of that. 

On top of that, Richie had decided that today was the perfect day to bring up how Carmy shouldn’t have even owned this place. That it was Richie’s place and just because Mikey had left it to him didn’t mean shit.

That had riled Carmy up and the two had a screaming match in the front room before Carmy came stalking back through to the office. You knew that if you fucked up on more attempt at this sauce, he was gonna lose his shit at you. 

You had never been at the receiving end of his anger before so you knew that if he lost it, so would you.

So as you fired up the next attempt, you replayed every piece of advice that Carmy and Sydney had given you since the start of the day and tried your best. You really tried. Even if T had distracted you halfway through, you thought that the puree had come out perfect.

And you were relieved. Because in your attempt to create this dish, you had forgotten about the rest of your prep work. 

“Fuck,” You cursed under your breathe as you noticed Carmy heading your way. You knew that you were about to be shouted at, you could just tell, and you could feel the anxiety rising in your chest. You had just finished plating your latest attempt and the puree seemed to be at the right consistency. Hell, it even looked good. Your station was spotless and clean. There was nothing Carmen could be mad about.

Except for no prep work. 

You glared at the plastic tubs of veggies like they could have done anything to change your fate.

“How's it looking, Chef?” Carmy asked, a frustrated edge to his voice. You snapped your head towards him and forced a smile onto your face. The tension in the room seemed to increase ten fold at that action.

“Pretty sure I finally got it down, just need to finish prepping the veg and then I’m ready for service,” You responded, forcing a smile onto your face. Carmy nodded and you passed him a fork, slipping away to the box of veggies. This was probably going to take you until dinner service.

You really fucked up but you ignored the anxious feeling in your gut in favour of beginning your prepwork. With a knife in hand, you quickly began to chop. You were skilled with a knife. That had been the main thing you were good at, something that Carmen had praised you endlessly for in the few weeks he had been here.

So, you hoped that if you just got the prep done quickly and perfectly, it would alleviate some of the simmering anger.

But then you heard a fork clatter harshly against a plate and you whipped your head to look at him. There was no alleviating the anger now. He was a powder keg about to explode and you had just triggered it..

“It’s a simple fucking dish, Chef! How do you keep fucking this up?” He shouted as he stared at you. You were looking back down at your prepwork again, going back to chopping. He slammed his hand on the counter, “Hey!” The whole kitchen’s eyes were on you now, “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” He snapped. You stopped dead in your tracks, looked at him, wide-eyed. He had caught you off guard and that pissed him off even more, “It’s a fucking pea puree. I could make this when I was 12 and you still can’t get it fucking right! It’s so fucking simple. Do I need to fucking baby you through every step? Jesus fucking Christ! A toddler could do this better than you can and you’ve been at it for fucking four fucking hours. Stop wasting everyone’s time and if you can’t get it right then get the fuck out!” He snapped. You blinked at him, frozen to your spot, “Don’t just fucking stand there, get to work!” He slammed his hand on the side again.

You nodded, mumbled “Yes, Chef” and went back to prepping your veg as Carmy picked up your plate and threw the attempt at the dish in the bin. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to feel the overwhelming anxiety that was making you dizzy. You couldn’t breathe.

Your whole body felt like it was on high alert, ready to give up at any given moment. You tried to suck in deep breaths but suddenly the kitchen felt too hot. You couldn’t do this. Sydney noticed.

“Go take a breather, I got this,” She came up beside you, hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, not wanting to disappoint Carmen even more. Prepwork was where you excelled, this is what you did best. You didn’t trust yourself to speak though, you could feel your chest restricting.

You continued chopping, it became more frenzy-like as Sydney glanced around. The whole kitchen had watched your interaction with Carmy, unsure how to react to it. Sydney didn’t know what to say.

But then you sliced your finger. You were moving too quickly, mind not being able to catch up with your hand quick enough to avoid the slice. You cried out as your knife clattered to the chopping board. You grabbed tissue and quickly wrapped it up as you stepped back.

“Go get a plaster, I’ll finish your prep,” Sydney reiterated as she gently pushed you away from your station. You shook your head, desperately trying to keep up. You couldn’t but then you felt the ground feel like it was tilting under your feet.

Maybe she was right. You needed to get out and so you went straight for the backdoor. You didn’t even bother to clean up your cut, just holding the tissue to it as you stumbled down the steps to the alley. 

Your back slammed against the wall as you sucked in breaths but it was like you couldn’t get enough oxygen. The tears started and you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it. You slowly slid down the wall, still squeezing the tissue over your cut. 

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it. You were doomed to be a failure and you couldn’t fucking breathe and it was too hot.

Your arms wrapped over the top of your head, eyes squeezed shut as you desperately tried to take in deep breaths but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. You were sure you were going to die like this. It would be the end of you.

In the fucking back alley of a shitty restauraunt with a shitty new owner and the last owner killed himself and you weren’t surprised. You couldn’t do this. You were choking on nothing.

Then a hand suddenly came to rest against your knee and your legs were being pushed down. You were trying to fight it, words of whoever it was coming through like they were trying to speak through water.

“You gotta breathe,” They said as they finally managed to break through your strength to straighten your legs out. You dropped your hands to your lap and when you looked up, Carmy was there. You felt the panic come back twice as hard and you turned your face away, bringing your knees back up. But he shoved them back down.

“Hey, hey,” His tone had softened. It didn’t seem as angry anymore and that terrified you. Angry men who pretended not to be were the worst kind of men. You still couldn’t breathe, the panic constricting your chest as you stared at your legs, “You gotta just breathe,” Carmy said as he reached out. He grabbed your hand, the bloody tissue still wrapped around your cut, “I know it’s hard,” He said as he glanced at your face. You were completely boneless, it was like your body had lost all its will to live.

Your world was tilting underneath you and you couldn’t think straight. Carmy’s touch was somewhat grounding though as he unwrapped the tissue and wiped the cut before putting a band-aid over it. It gave you something to focus on but you were terrified that he was going to scream at you.

“I’m sorry,” You managed through panicked breaths. He nodded, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” You choked out. The tears filling your eyes as you stared down at your bandaged hand. You still weren’t breathing right but the panic was slowly starting to fall away, “I keep trying but I can’t do anything right today,” You lifted your knees up again, wrapping your arms around your head again.

“You're constricting your throat,” He said as he nudged your knees again. He was sitting against the wall beside you, watching you. 

As frustrated as he was with you and as angry as he was that you couldn’t just make the fucking dish, he also didn’t like seeing you like this. He cared about everyone in his kitchen and the thought that he had given you a panic attack tore him up inside. He didn’t know how to express it. He had always been shit at apologies.

You straightened your knees out again, letting your arms rest against your thighs as you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Chef,” You said after a beat, “I know I should have done my veg prep earlier and the recipe is easy. I’ve made pea puree before, ask Sydney, I just- I don’t know why I can’t get it right today,” You muttered. Carmy looked at you, the corners of his lips turned down a little and you looked so defeated, “I’ve been off my game and I have this roommate from Hell that makes me think I’m so goddamn selfish. I just,” You let out a ragged breathe, tears welling in your eyes, “I promise, I’ll be good for dinner service,” you muttered. Carmy looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed ever-so-slightly.

“You’re not selfish,” Carmy responded. 

“Heard,” You muttered. He nodded and then turned back to look up at the sky, as did you. It was so strange with Carmy. He never really said much. He’d been here for about a month now and he was desperately trying to claw the business out of the ground. He seemed to care so much but he had an odd way of showing it, I suppose.

“I’ll show you how to make it again,” He said after a minute or two of silence. You nodded.

“Thank you.” You let out a soft breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You hadn’t fucked up that much, at least.

“You two fuckers just gonna sit there or help us?” The voice of Richie broke through the relative calm that had settled between you. It was probably the quickest you had come down from a panic attack, ever.

“Like you fucking help us anyway,” You bit back as you slowly pushed yourself to your feet. Carmy was quick to follow.

“Doing a lot more than you lazy fucks right now, sat there staring at the sky like God’s gonna answer your fucking prayers,” Richie continued to bitch as you walked inside with him. Carmy followed quickly after.

“I don’t pray," You stated as you rounded the corner back to your station. Sydney was mostly done with your prep now and you were beyond thankful, “I got it from here,” You said, slipping in next to her. Sydney smiled, glad to see you feeling a bit better.

“Why’s he so calm?” Sydney asked as she watched Carmy walk past. He seemed in a better mood than he had been a moment ago.

“Fuck knows, thought he’d tell me to fuck off when he found me,” You admitted as you glanced back at him. His fucking arms drove you wild and the fact that he had his hands on you, forcing you to straighten your legs. Fuck. You didn’t want to think about it too much. And he had put that plaster on you, the warmth of his hands was something else. If you hadn’t been so fucked up with anxiety, you probably would have jumped his bones.

“You gonna fuck up another dish?” Sydney teased as she stepped away, passing you a glove for your plastered hand. 

“I’m getting a private lesson for it actually,” You retorted, a smile plastered on your face as you winked at Sydney.

“Less talking, more chopping,” Carmy said as he slipped past the two of you. You nodded.

“Yes, Chef,” You both parotted back to him. Sydney grinned and headed back to her station while you settled back into prep. You felt more like yourself now. Though, you did also really want a piece of Carmy.

[butmakeitgayblog]

god that gif set goes so crazy every time, no one is doing it like them. Heda wanted her SO. BAD. ‼️

Listen I get it ok. I was there in the camp of losing my fucking mind when this happened. But man I just... it's a shame that we get so lost in the gay sauce over this moment —

— that we really don't give enough credit to the rest of what's going on

Cuz like,,, at no point was Lexa actually afraid of Clarke. She'd just had her storm her ass into her tent in the midst of a hissy fit while holding a gun to a warrior's back, and Lexa's only response was to be offended that her makeup regimen got interrupted

Literally the girl was not fazed beyond just, "... what the fuck 😒?" And you know that because Clarke continued following her around the tent while they argued, HER PISTOL STILL VERY MUCH IN HAND, and the whole time Lexa is just flat out sassing tf out of her.

I just cannot stress enough how not at all intimidated by Clarke Lexa was.

But when Clarke called her out on her facade of having no feelings? When she blatantly called her a liar for pretending that she didn't care about the losses of her loved ones as deeply as she clearly did???

That's when Lexa's demeanor changed.

That's the moment Clarke became a danger.

Not because she ever thought Clarke would physically hurt her, but because she knew in that moment that Clarke actually saw her.

And it terrified the hell out of her.

Because you have this strong, fearless warrior. One who has accepted the reality of her own death since she was a child. One who has done everything she can to push away everyone and anything that makes her feel vulnerable. One who has spent years trying to bury all these feelings that she's convinced herself are a weakness.

And then this smartass, reckless, blonde little 👏menace👏to👏society just takes the very boot that Lexa had given her, and kicks the whole thing down.

And you see that in that moment. Not a fear for her safety or any intimidation of Clarke. You see that brave little toaster trying to keep it together while feeling the entire house of cards come tumbling down.

Because she already cared about Clarke. She admits that only a moment later. Because she is emotionally flailing here.

Desperately clinging to this mask with her normally regal tip of her chin that now only manages to come off shaky and unsure.

Every step she backs up is another piece of that facade falling, but she can't stop it because if she lets Clarke actually touch her, then that facade wouldn't just fall.

It would completely shatter.

And oh, oh this sweet summer child. She tries so valiantly one last time to save herself. Back pressed against the table, and clinging to her belief that to be alone is to be strong. But that snarled "Get. Out." through beared teeth and trembling lips is nothing more than the death rattle of that mantra, because the damage has already been done. Because the second Clarke even begins to include herself in that people that Lexa says she doesn't care about, Lexa immediately has to correct her.

Cuz the jig is up, and she knows it. Clarke has invaded her lands, stomped her way into her personal space, and terrifyingly made a place for herself in Lexa's very fragile heart.

And there was just nowhere left to run.

[bluebeads-art]

2024 December 24th

SECRET SANTA ATTACK!! A beetle Loop for my gift victim @petrii-dish >:3c

I saw "insects" and "Loop" on their wishlist and neurons started firing. I'm always saying that I love when people creature-fy characters I like, but I've never done the creature-ing myself until now!

While going through Pep's blog for inspiration, I saw art of a woolly chafer beetle drawn by @/bowelfly. I'd never seen them before, and let me tell you they're the cutest bug I've ever seen and I was obsessed with them immediately. So round... so woolly...

As I was going down the woolly chafer appreciation rabbit hole, I started noticing traits I could incorporate into Loop's design. And thus; beetle Loop! :] (Although their antennae are more common cockchafer inspired. Their big antenna fans are so fancy!)

Lots of rambling and bonus art of a much more beetle-looking Loop under the cut, so be warned if you're squicked by bugs

The creatuuuure. Boop here was my first time trying to draw organic shapes with vanishing point guides and such. It went... okay...? No clue how people apply that to more complicated shapes like people though, heh.

Anyways, back to the humanoid Boops. The design elements I focused on were the antenna leaves looking like those shards of light you can see in the opening CG and some of Loop's portraits, the fluff and tibia spikes substituting for Loop's skin frizzles, wings with veins made up of constellations, and that very peculiar angular elytra shape. ;)

I had to stop myself from going ham and making the design super detailed, because I wanted it to look like something you could reasonably imagine in-game. I think I did alright in that regard! Their suspicious elytra ended up feeling fitting too, since only seeing them from the front in-game would make that foreshadowing more subtle. Also, while my decision to make them a beetle was 100% just "I really love that beetle I saw", I like the implication that the Universe was like, "Stars, you have a thick shell. Become a beetle." 😂

I struggled for a bit trying to place clock hands in the first drawing, but then I started to think that a handless clock is kinda fitting? Love when I can cover laziness with symbolism. :P

Time taken on designing and the first two drawings was 31 hours and 34 minutes (I forgot to tally them separately whoops), and beetle Boop took 8 hours and 44 minutes. It was supposed to be a doodle (because common cockchafers are sometimes called "doodlebugs" get it-) but I'm SO bad at doodling. Got lost in the perspective ruler sauce.

Check out @isat-secretsanta-2024 for more cool art, and have a happy holiday! ♥

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 4

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: A dinner is shared.

Notes: I think I’ve gotten lost in the sauce of POV’s. This kind of bounces between both of them. I also thought the last chapter’s events would add drama to this chapter. It did not but I think it will on the next one. Please enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

For the first time in two weeks, you don’t see Red Hood. Not a shadow, not a peep. You're a little disgruntled about it. He “stalks” you for two weeks and then finally comes into your apartment and speaks to you and then just vanishes. What’s that about? You hadn’t taken him for the shy type but maybe that was it. Or he was truly just monitoring you after Scarecrow to see if anything was wrong and finally talking to you proved that there wasn’t. All the options swirled around your head as you cleaned your kitchen the next day. You were mostly peeved because you had made a bigger dinner than you usually do so you had more to offer than just tea when he showed up. Now you were going to be eating the same leftovers for days. Great.

You were so lost in your thoughts and focused on your frustrated scrubbing of the stove that you didn’t hear the quiet thud on your fire escape nor the tell-tell squeak of your window opening. For someone who had recently been kidnapped, you weren’t very observant. At least that’s what Jason thought as he stepped close to the kitchen, watching you over the island as you mutter and scrub harder at the stove.  Clearly, you hadn’t been expecting company. You wore a baggy t-shirt and a pair of ratty basketball shorts, hair clipped up and away from your face. You hadn’t worked today, and he knew because he had gone to see you. Instead, he got sucked into a conversation with the older woman that worked there. Some gossip about the couple that was sitting in a corner booth. He didn’t stay for long.

You sigh at the forever permanent grease stain on your stove. You move sideways, still not turning around to rinse and squeeze water from the sponge you were using. You finally turn around to collect a rag from the small island and let out a screech, “What the -?!” you stumble back and hit your lower back on the counter. Your hand moves faster than your brain, grasping the sponge from the counter and chucking it at him. Your aim? Not so great. The sponge soars across the island and barely hits his shoulder. Your brain finally catches up as it watches the sponge. Brown leather, red bat, red helmet.

“Red Hood.” The relief seeps out in your voice as your whole body relaxes. To Jason’s credit, he doesn’t outwardly laugh, resisting the urge, not wanting to embarrass you. He wants to laugh, oh, does he want to. Between your squawking and terrible throw, he was very entertained.

“You’re a terrible shot” his modulated voice again throwing you off. Despite the robotic voice, you can hear the humor behind it.

“I never claim to be an athlete,” you will your fingers to let go of the countertop, “You’re here.”

It takes Jason a moment as he hears the surprise in your voice and still present on your face, considering you had invited him in two days ago. He worries that maybe he overstepped, should have knocked on the window instead of just coming in. A silence lingers between you two, so you add on.

“I thought you weren’t coming back.” You say and cringe. Your abandonment issues really knew when to peek out. He was gone one day, not a week or a month but you got used to seeing that red outside your window. It was a comfort knowing someone was watching over you. Jason resists the urge to say I’ll always come back to you. It might be a little too forward all things considered.

“Sorry for making you worry.”  He finally speaks up and brings his hands up to pop the latch on his helmet sliding it off his head and setting it on the counter. You stare, how could you not? He must have been moving quite a bit, his black hair wet with sweat and his face shining. You bring a hand up to stifle a laugh at the domino mask. Despite knowing it would be there, you still think it’s hilarious that he wears two masks. Jason takes in your hidden grin and wills himself to be normal about it.

“I'm trying to apologize and you're gigging about it.” A smirk growing on his lips

You drop your hand and neutralize your face, “I'm not, it's just…” you gesture to his face, “Your mask” you say timidly. He knows exactly what you're talking about. You had laughed about it before, but he can't understand why you think it's so funny, he's just protecting his identity.

“Okay,” he says, placating you. You roll your eyes and shrug as you turn towards your fridge. Maybe you can get rid of leftovers after all.

“Want something to eat?” You ask as you struggle to pull the containers out of the fridge. The way you offer so easily makes Jason’s heart jump. You were awfully trusting.

“Sure”

“You’re not allergic to anything are you?” you ask pausing before you put the dish into the microwave.

“No”

You shove the container into the microwave and set it. Instead of turning around, you stare at the dish spinning in the microwave. You really are losing it. You invite him in for tea, and then you’re sad when he doesn’t show up for the dinner you made (not that you would tell him that). Now you're not even too startled that he had come in through your locked window. His voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Busy day at work?” he asks mostly because he doesn’t want to seem like an actual stalker stalker, even though he already knew you didn’t work.

You glance at him over your shoulder, “Oh I didn’t work today. Hence my cleaning” You move your hand to show off your clean home. And your home was clean but normally you wouldn’t have done it all in one day. It had given you something to do while you overthought instead of sitting and staring at a wall to overthinking.

“Looks nice,” he says as the microwave pings. You nod, pull the Tupperware from the microwave, and set it on the island between you two. You turn to grab two clean plates, silverware, and a serving spoon and set them on the counter.

“Please eat,” you say as you gesture to the food. Noting the two plates, Jason shakes his head.

“Ladies first.” You’re pleasantly surprised at his chivalry. You tilt your head back and forth as you contemplate whether you should argue that he’s the guest and he should go first. You look him over for a moment and decide he probably wouldn’t let up on the matter. You quietly dish up a small portion having technically already eaten dinner but not wanting him to eat alone. You set your plate and silverware at the small dining room table and go to the fridge to collect two water bottles (you learned very quickly not to drink tap water when you first moved to Gotham). By the time you return to the table, Red Hood sits in the same spot he sat in two nights before. He waits for you to sit and thanks you when you set the water bottle down, before finally eating.

He seemed starved if you were honest, although running around beating up criminals probably works up quite the appetite. You pick at your own food, eating a few bites here and there. As he’s distracted you stare again. That weird aching familiarity flairs up again but you choose to ignore it. You stare at the mask covering his eyes and wonder what color they are. Your eyes trail down his face at those scars and you push your thoughts about them away. It's Gotham, everyone’s got a scar or a few, mental or otherwise. But your eyes follow the scar on his cheek to his lips as he drinks water from the bottle. You’re momentarily stuck staring at his lips as he pulls the bottle away, they move, and his voice follows.

“Your staring,” he says smugly. You quickly drop your gaze to your food and take a bite, like that would hide the warmth on your cheeks. You don’t know why you get so distracted and flustered around him. Pull yourself together.

“Busy night?” You change the subject and offer the same question he asked you earlier. You look back up to meet his mask again. His skin was no longer wet with sweat, but his hair was still a little damp and sticking up in weird positions. You think you see a glimmer of white on his roots at the crown of his head. You wonder if he would mind if you just brushed your hand through… no, you’re supposed to be pulling yourself together.

“Just a few muggers and a robbery.” He says it like it’s whatever, happens every day. And in Gotham it couldn’t be truer. But he carried no pride in it, like it was just a job and that was it.

“Just?” You ask, you attempt a tease, but it comes out warbled by an emotion you’re not sure about.

He nods, “Just. I’m sure there will be plenty more before the nights over.”

You decide he sounds tired like he is carrying the weight of Gotham on his back, even though you know there are about a million other vigilantes in the city.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re out there then. I know I’m grateful.” You try to push a prideful tone into your sentence, hoping that it would transfer to him. So he knew what he did was important. He doesn’t say anything, just nods curtly before scooping up the last of his food and sliding it into his mouth. He quietly chews and you try not to stare again. A weird tension settles over you, and you hope it’s not entirely your fault.

He stands with his plate and deposits it in the sink rinsing it off. You still pick at the food on your plate when he comes up behind you. For such a large man he’s quite quiet but you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise at his presence.

“I should head out if I'm really supposed to be out there,” he says quietly. You want to turn but you're worried about how close he is, so you just nod.

“Right, of course.” You hesitate before you murmur, “Thank you for coming back.”

It's so quiet Jason almost misses it. He doesn’t wait for you to turn around, nodding even though you can't see it as he turns to pick up his helmet. You finally stand from your seat to watch him, hand gripping the back of the chair. He slides his helmet on and with one foot at the window, he turns to you.

“I'm getting you new window locks. These are awful.” He’s out the window and gone as you say, “What?”

You still don’t move where you stand for a moment before you start cleaning up the leftovers. You slide what you didn’t eat back into the Tupperware dish, put the lid on and place it back in the fridge. You finally come back over to the window, sticking your head out and glancing around as if you would see him hiding somewhere. You lean back in closing the window and locking it. You stare at the locks. They don’t look awful, but they were also locked before he got in so maybe he was right. You glance around your apartment. Nothing to do, nothing to clean. You decide to take a shower and then sleep. Maybe you can figure out how you're supposed to act around a gun-toting vigilante in the meantime.

Once Jason had made it out of your apartment and to his usual spot on the roof across the street, he sat down and just breathed. You were something else. You definitely had no survival instinct, at least when it came to him. And the locks on your windows? Don’t even get him started. Hed start there and then a new door lock as well as a security system. Eventually. Yeah, eventually. If you let him stick around that long.

His heart ached in a way he wasn’t used to. You had expressed such surety in your statement about his nightly job. That it was a good thing. It was rare that people were outwardly grateful. And for him, saving people happened every day. His own emotions had almost gotten out of hand, resting like a rock in his throat, knowing how you felt.

And despite your staring and anxious picking at your food, there was a weird sense of…domesticity to the night. Something he only got when he would help Alfred in the kitchen and on some “Movie night” one of his siblings requested. Which is to say far and few between. He took off his helmet and set it down beside him. He peeks over the ledge of the roof to glance at you sticking your head out of your window. You were pretty despite your disheveled state and he's happy to know that you weren’t too flustered about looking a mess around him. Although to be fair you had looked much, much worse when he saved you from Scarecrow.

He did hope you'd let him keep coming around, eating your food and drinking your tea. Cass was right though. He needed to get you first. The issue lay in which persona should he get you in. Jason Todd or Red Hood. He’d have to stress about it later as you finally close and lock your window. The sound of sirens wail in the distance. Back to work, it was.

Additional note: So fun fact, I desperately wanted to include Jason's white streak of hair but had to Veto it because a person can only be oblivious to a certain point and would instantly match these two people up. However, I saw someone had a Headcanon (and I don’t remember who) that Jason had the white streak but dyed due to the identity issue. I loved the idea so much that I just had to include it. Jason’s white streak may or may not come up in conversation later. We’ll have to wait and see. Again, thank you for reading!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369, @g4bbi3xx 

[bellarkeselection]

Hiii!! I saw that you wrote for Georgie Cooper from you Sheldon and I was wondering if you would write for him again 😊 Can I get Georgie with a latina gf that loves to cook, whenever she goes over to his house she's always bringing food from her culture (I'm Mexican so Mexican food ofc) .

Culture Cooking

I am not Latina so I hope I wrote this correctly 🤗 and a very short request in my opinion but I hope you still enjoy

Coming out of Missy’s room that used to be Georgie’s old bedroom, I had decided to get up early and make the family breakfast. I had stayed the night after my date with her older brother, and we didn’t get back till really late, so she said I could sleep over in her room. Walking down the small hallway and into the kitchen, I got lost in thought, thinking of the ingredients that I needed. I have been bringing over some spices and stuff when I would come over here. I loved cooking for Georgie, and he always seemed to enjoy my family's food. “Hey…uh what are you doing up this early?”

Whipping my head around away from the stove I saw Georgie stumbling his way into the kitchen. “Oh hey. I thought I’d make the family my kind of breakfast.”

“Sweet.” He smiled sitting down at the table watching me go back to cooking. My family had moved to Texas after my father got a new job here being the assistant principal.

One day after I was leaving from English class I had been walking down the hallway and accidentally bumped into Georgie. All of our notebooks went flying and that’s how we met basically. Turning the oven off I put the whole meal together on a plate and slid it across the table to him. “I present to you one of my families favorite things to eat for breakfast.”

“Woah this smells really good.” Georgie gave me praise picking up his fork and dove right in. He took a big bite making the same noise he does whenever his Meemaw makes brisket for dinner that he loves.

Georgie stared at me with a mouth full of food. “So what’s in this?”

“Let’s see it’s a fried tortilla topped with salsa. And there’s eggs, pulled chicken, cream cheese and bean included inside it too.” I chuckled sitting down and taking some bites out of the one I had made for myself with him.

Georgie took a few minutes to finish his food wiping some sauce that was left on his plate. I bite my lip trying not to laugh at seeing some cream in his hair where I moved one hand up wiping it away. “Awe dang it! I guess you are a really good cook if I get it in my hair.” He chuckled back at me.

“Yeah suppose so.” I responded moving our plates off the table hearing someone else entering the kitchen seeing it was Missy.

She squealed hugging me by the waist. “Hi Y/n. What did you make for breakfast?”

“She made a fried tortilla.” Her older brother said forking some more from the pan onto his plate.

Missy gave me a confused look. “A fried tortilla?”

“Yes but it’s actually called Chilaquiles.” I told her before she sat down and I made her a plate of her own.

Georgie finished his second plate putting his plate up in the sink then came over to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist bringing me closer to his chest with that same cheeky grin. “Even if I can’t pronounce your food half the time. You’re still a really good cook. Everybody in the family enjoys it. So thank you for this and all the other meals.”

“You’re welcome, Georgie. I always love cooking for y’all.” Draping my arms over his shoulders I grinned up at him kissing him slowly where he tightened his hands around me deepening the kiss.

He moved one hand into my hair and the other on my waist. We we’re getting caught up in the kiss that we almost wound have gone further if it wasn’t for his sister being in the kitchen with us. “Eww. If I knew you two were going to kiss after you ate I would have eaten my breakfast in front of the tv.” Missy made a look of discomfort.

“Awe I’m sorry Missy. I can’t help if he’s a good kisser and likes my food at the same time.” I shrugged my shoulders with him draping an arm over my shoulder so I laid my head on his shoulder since he was slightly taller than I was.

Georgie looped our hands together sending me a smirk. “Best of both words, my darling. You’re pretty awesome Y/n.”

“Stop being cute or I’m gonna barf my food.” She whined at us with her tounge sticking out.

I gasped remembering that their parents were already at work for the day so that left Sheldon in our care. Snapping my fingers at Missy I questioned his twin sister worried he needed to eat. “Missy, go tell your brother that I made breakfast.”

“Sheldon, Y/n made breakfast!” She spun around in her seat hollering towards their bedroom causing me and her older brother to start cracking up in laughter. Squeezing Georgie’s hand in mine I always enjoyed anytime I got to cook for this family.

Comments really appreciated ❤️