#im projecting on him bc im always cold

[swirlyyygal]

“Up Late..”

Being woken up late into the night was something you hated, but it means you get to admire Joel.. So it’s not all that bad.. (≧◡≦)

Jackson!Joel x F!Reader

CW/Tags: NOOT PROOFREAD, Age gap (Joel is like 60 sum I think but reader is unspecified), crybaby reader, glasses STAY ON 🤤, cockwarming (eventual riding), drowsy reader, clingy reader (im projecting 💔), praise, pet names, no y/n, domestic vibe, quick boot humping, reader has hair (type and length r up 4 interpretation), fingers in the readers mouth, tummy bulge (RELEASE ME), Raw but pullout method is used, Small mention of feeling around teeth (not detailed)

A/N!: “Geto next” so I’m a big fat liar. Don’t even freaking joke. I saw this pic and I KNEWWW I needed to write a little something (￣▽￣٥)… Kinda short bc I just got really into it.. This is more self indulgent than anything seewwwwww…. Again! Not proofread!!

~~~

Late into the night you awoke, sitting on the edge of your mattress. Feeling the weight of your body slightly sink it down. Your eyes began to adjust to the darkness as you looked around, it couldn’t have been less than 12 am. FML. Usually when you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re never able to fall back asleep.

It was a torturous sleeping pattern that you had ever since you were a child. You thought it’d get better now that you were roaming Jackson, but they just didn’t quit. So you’d usually just kind of sit in bed till 6 am and fall asleep, then get waken up only 2 or 3 hours later.. 5 if lucky.

Joel knew about this pattern, he didn’t see it because granted he was asleep, but he knew about it.

Tonight was different, sorta. You woke up around 12 like usual. But instead of wide awake, you were still a bit sleepy. Just barely hanging in between the line of knocked out and awake.

Mumbling something to yourself, you gently placed your feet against the cold hardwood floor. Stumbling through the halls all the way down to his workshop in the back.

His workshop was quiet, on the occasion he played music, but he told you how it messed with his mind and preferred silence. Which was such a foreign concept to you considering you always had your little CD player with you.

You saw the dim lighting of the room illuminate through the crack of the door. It creaked when you pushed it open. He didn’t notice. Probably his bad ear. You stood there in your oversized tattered t shirt and panties, just kind of adjusting your vision to admire him.

You didn’t know why he still had his stupid jeans on, and that big coat. Even his boots. It was like he was ready to just get up and leave at any time. But you loved it. You loved his look. But what you really loved was that he wore GLASSES. He sorta used his glasses when he was younger, but he never used them for a long time. He can see enough, but not when everything is just “too damn small fa’ me ta’ see..”. In his words atleast.

You liked them though, as much as they annoyed him, you enjoyed seeing them adorn his face. You thought it made him look dashing with the orangish-red frames.

It took him a good 5 minutes of you just standing there for him to notice. He jolted a bit, twitching before realizing it was just you. He really needs to get his reflexes in check… Being alone with you, in the same room or not, made his reflexes shut down by 60%.

“Good lord angel you almost ga’me a whole heart attack..”

He grumbled, not mad just shocked.

“Couldn’t sleep?..”

You nodded. Rubbing your eye while making your way over to him. Settling by his leg under the table.

Joel looked down to see you hugging his lower leg. Arms wrapped around the muscle and cheek resting against his knee. He looked at you warmly, eyes sleepy, but his eyes were always like that so it wasn’t too far off.

He stared at you for a moment, and you stared back. Just sitting there while dozing in and out of consciousness. He loved your sleepy expression. It seemed very vulnerable to him. His calloused hand ran down to stroke your hair, no fingers running through, just to pat your head like some kind of pet.

You relished in the attention. It wasn’t straightforward. Well it was but in a kind of domestic way. You liked when he acted all domestic with you. Your fingers stretched around his leg and stroked along the jean fabric.

“Just what are ya’ tryin’ get into lil’ lady?..”

He chuckled, it wasn’t in an annoyed way. It was kind of warm the way he said it.

“Nothin’..”

Your tone drowned and dragged.

You slightly adjusted your body to get a tighter grip. The action making your barely covered core slide over the top of his boot. You whined. But he just thought it was one of those sleepy noises people would make.

“Right.. Jus’ go to sleep sweet’art..”

He rubbed your cheek with his thumb. Admiring how the fat would bunch up when pressed against any kind of surface.

He brought his hand back up to the table and continued to read whatever instructions were given. Or whatever small little thing he had to put together. You could hear his huffs and the sound of paper crumbling because it was so quiet. The sounds of the night didn’t provide much background noise anyway.

You stayed there for a moment. Not doing much except admiring how he looked from below. Something you’d done many times before but never get tired of it.

Even though you were on the edge of knocking out. Something was even stronger. Feeling the top of his boot pressed firmly against your pussy, which was already getting warm and wet by the moment.

That was just GREAT. You didn’t wanna bother him, that’s annoying. And he already told you to go to sleep, plus his concentration would be in RUINS if he had noticed you grinding up against the leather. So you fought. You fought the urge to move. But you were slowly losing the fight.

The urge was too much to ignore. It started to hurt the more you ignored it. You whispered “sorry..” before slowly repositioning yourself at the foot of the boot. Just slightly going back and forth so he wouldn’t notice. And he didn’t. He didn’t even bat an eye the first time. So you imagined he wouldn’t notice the second time.

And the second turned into the 5th, then the 16th.. Then it became a pattern. You’d rub yourself back and forth on the tip, friction providing you with enough pleasure to not need him just yet. You felt your mouth fall agape with no noise coming out as to not let him hear. The grip on his leg got tight, something you couldn’t control.

Truth be told. Joel knew. He wasn’t stupid, and he sure wasn’t deaf. The sound of clothes and quiet whines didn’t go through his head blankly. Plus he already felt your cunt pressed against his foot, it wasn’t paralyzed or nothing. He knew, it stuck with him, and went right down South. His brows knitted together as he decided to let you know he knew. Bouncing his left leg up and down, pretending to just use it as a habit.

The sudden pressure of you pushing down and him bouncing up making you let out a guttural whine. Eyes closing as you bit your lip. He definitely caught you now.

He looked down, pretending to be oblivious.

“What the hell was all that about?.. Didn’t ya’ say you weren’t doin’ ‘nothin’..”

He mocked you. You were caught red handed. You felt your face get hot as you shook your head. Resting it against his knee but you didn’t stop grinding. You were way past that point. And he sure wasn’t gonna stop bouncing his leg. He leaned back, pushing his glasses up his nose, watching you grind pitifully against the boot while hugging his leg tightly. A grin appeared, not condescendingly, but smiling warmly down at you. Like telling you it was alright.

Pouting out your bottom lip, with those glossy eyes.. You continued to grind. Chasing the high you had before, yet now it was more intense because he finally realized you were here. Mouth falling open you bit his knee, teeth rubbing against the rough denim texture while trying to keep your mind straight. You knew it was futile thought. Every time, it seemed like pleasure would totally take control of your mind and that is all that you could even think about. More pleasure, more heat, more of him. It was all centered around that pleasurable experience.

You watched as he bit his bottom lip, hand going over his mouth. As well as the growing bulge in his jeans. You continued to move, and he continued to bounce. You looked dazed. Partially because of the sleep.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?..”

He joked. No smile, no chuckle, just a dry huff. But you knew he was joking, you knew he was messing with you.

“Mhm.. Yeah”

“Need my help?”

“Y-yeAh..”

Your voice cracked when it hit that spot again. You just ran your hips in circles. I mean. You felt on edge, but it wasn’t getting you there. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. You wished it was but it was never enough without him.

The look on your face tugged at his heart strings. That sad, pathetic look in your eyes only made him itch more and more. He knew that look all too well. He knew it like the back of his hand.

He sighed, not annoyed just in a ‘I give in’ way.

“Up ya go..”

Mumbling. Reaching down for you and lifting you by your underarms. You whined at the loss. He rolled his eyes and chuckled.

He flipped you around so your back rested firmly against his chest. He brought his right hand over to the side of your face. The middle and pointer finger pushing against the plumpness of your lips.

You opened up your mouth, letting them slowly side into your mouth. He first felt around at your teeth, pressing them against your canines, incisors, then your molars. He had this weird thing about feeling around your teeth, you didn’t know why. Then he rested them against your tongue, the weight of them relaxing you and lulling you to sleep.

Slowly you wrapped your lips fully around them. He felt the warm, wet feeling engulf his digits and your tongue swirling around. He kissed your cheek and under the eye.

And as soon as they were in, they were out. He dragged them out as slow as possible, leaving a line of spit connecting before he brought that hand down to your panties. Slipping the wet fingers past your fabric and touching your own wetness. He bit the inside of his bottom lip. Rubbing his erection on your ass. Perv. But you were too.

“Did my boot really do allat to ‘ya? Guess ‘ya don’t need me no more..”

He teased. But your mind could barely register a joke and not a joke. You shook your head, leg tensing when his fingers circled your clit.

“Mm-mm.. No way..”

You reached behind yourself and palmed his growing bulge. He laughed. His hands leaving you, gently pushing your hand out of the way and going down to his zipper. Losing his grip on it a few times before finally getting it down. He pulled his jeans and boxers down at the same time and watched it hit his stomach. He saw the bead of glossy precum fall down and he groaned. Even at his old, prehistoric age, when he was with you he was able to get hard like he was in his 20’s again.

“What’dya need to sleep darlin’? ‘Cause I think I know, but I wanna hear ‘ya say it.. Loud and proud baby..”

Your pout pushing out your bottom lip. Words weren’t your strong suit in this type of mindset. I mean, you were already in some kinda subspace, and then combined with your drowsiness. It was a disaster in your mind. If you knocked on your skull, it’d sound like a coconut.

“Wan’ it inside.. Jus’ in.. No moving..”

He nodded.

“Go figure. Wanna feel all warm inside huh? That it, ain’t it?”

Like I said. He knew you like the back of his hand.

You nodded too. In a millisecond he lifted you up higher and pushed your panties to the side. Spreading your legs with his ankle so he could get in easier. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear to brace you for it. Thick and girthy like always. A blessing but a major pain.

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and you breathed in all shaky and heavy. He shushed you and kissed your eye. Making sure that tear never went too far down.

You felt full immediately. Your walls adjusting to his size. Initially, it was just pain. After the initial pain, it was replaced by aching, sobbing pleasure.

“I’ve gotta work now. So sleep.”

He patted your stomach. Feeling the bulge where his cock rested.

The feeling at first was hard to adjust to. In the outside you looked collected but inside you were about to lose it all. You watched infront of you as his hands carefully and calculated, worked at the small wires and gears infront of him. He looked so used to it. Like he too wasn’t kissing your cervix.

He was dangerously deep, like. Almost too much to handle deep. Tears spilled from your eyes as you tried to not mess up his concentration. Also promising him you would let him work and you just wanted him inside. Because you did. You just didn’t realize how hard it would be to do something like that.

It seemed so easy when described. But in practice, it was a major pain. Your hands rested in your lap and your head flew back against his chest. Still staring down while he worked with tweezers as if those same fingers weren’t feeling around your tongue a moment ago.

It felt like you two were becoming one. With how deep he was inside, you wouldn’t doubt it.

It had been no more than 5 or so minutes before you started practically sobbing from not being able to move. You looked down at your trembling legs on top of his own. Cold wet drops fell down onto the skin of your thighs. He shook his head.

“Now you told me you just wanted to sit on it? Don’t go cryin’ angel..”

His lips grazed your cheek. His beard and mustache pricking your skin. He kissed away the tears that couldn’t and wouldn’t stop falling.

“Hurts..”

“Aw I know, I know. It’s alright sweet’art. It’ll take me no more than 20 minutes..”

He stopped and went back to his work. It PISSED you off how easily he could do that. Like this was something he did all the time. Something he was used to. Annoying old bastard.

Those 20 minutes felt like a whole 20 years of just pain and anguish. A drop of sweat fell down your forehead when you tried to keep it together. And mind you, the waterworks didn’t stop.

It was hell honestly if you could call it that.

You felt pathetic. Everything in your body was telling your to move, to give into your desires and go against your own word. As much as you wanted to. You just couldn’t. You didn’t wanna and every fiber in your body was telling you not to.

Maybe it was the fear of disappointing him, maybe it was just you being stubborn, probably a mix of both. And believe me, you wanted to move. Your hands gripped the fabric of his jeans with a fever he knew. He knew because he’d seen the sheets do that more than once. He bit his tongue. He also wanted to give in.

To grip your hips, dig his fingers into the flesh of your skin and have you bounce on him right at that moment. But he just couldn’t, he was strong to his word. Stubborn in simple and informal terms. Wasn’t helping that he couldn’t exactly focus with his dick all up in your walls.

He played it cool. Making it look like he didn’t feel you squirming. Making it look like he was actually reading the instructions and piecing together the gears to the wires. In reality, he was totally fucking around. You didn’t know what kinda work he did, so it was easy for him to play it off like he was actually getting something done. You both were stubborn, and weren’t gonna go back on your word just for a minute.

He turned his face to the clock, praying silently that the 20 minutes passed, and they did. He took the deepest sigh ever, like he had just come back from a battlefield.

Dramatically he dropped his tweezers and gadgets. Letting them scramble on his scratched up table before gripping your hips with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“You did great lil’ lady.. Absolutely fuckin’ perfect..”

You looked back at him. Eyes already red and puffy from nothing. He leaned his head down to your shoulder. Lips kissing your skin with desperation. His glasses getting pushed up and fogged.

“You can move now...”

You gripped his thighs. He hissed feeling your nails. As soon as you even lifted yourself up slightly you felt like you were about to cum. Shaking your head to deny yourself you kept up to ride him.

Loud and pathetic moans left your mouth in the quiet of the night. Brows furrowed with a type of relief you hadn’t felt in a long time. You weren’t even edging, but it sure felt like it.

He watched it. Letting his strained back lean against the chair. Hand running through his hair and readjusting his glasses so he could see this in full and clear view. His right hand ran up under your tank top, lifting it from the bottom. His calloused and tough palm gripped your boob. Massaging it in his hand. He could feel how hard your nipples were on his palm.

With every bounce you felt him reach just ever so deeper. You could even see the bulge in your stomach. It pissed you off.

Every twitch felt 20x more aggressive, 20x more sweet, and 20x more powerful. You almost lost your grip on his thighs a few times because of how wet your hands were. You regretted wiping your eyes. URGH STUPID.

He noticed the crying, obviously. It had been going on for the past 30 sum minutes. Ever since you placed it inside, he watched just how much you could cry. He wondered how your tear ducts weren’t all dried up. He wouldn��t ever admit it, but he liked it. Not in a weird sadistic way, he wasn’t a perv like that. But in a way that made you seem so vulnerable. In a way that was like “I feel so good I’ll just start crying bc my emotions r too much”. He liked it. He liked it because it was real.

Letting go of your breast, his slapped your hip. Not hard enough to leave a mark, just a warning.

“Therreeee we go.. You were just itchin’ for this moment weren’t ya angel?..”

You nodded pitifully. FML FML FML. You never usually felt this pathetic. He didn’t see that in his eyes. But you did. That contributed to the tears. You couldn’t lie though, around him, you kinda liked feeling pathetic. In a sorta, open way.

You tried to think hard about that in the moment. But the only thing reaching through your mind was needing that dick. The sound of rustling jeans, and the feeling of jeans against your bare ass, added a nice friction.

“Pretty pussy.. It feelin’ alright?..”

You could hear he tilted his head to the side. Your head turned back to see him. Nodding lazily like you were just a bobble head.

“Mhm.. I hate doin’ that.. Never never again..”

Words babbled between high pitched whines and echoing moans. You could feel your legs trembling and tightening over and over again because of your pleasure and nearing orgasm.

He chuckled at your words. Tapping your tummy again right where he felt his tip.

“Didn’t like it much either. Almost didn’t last..”

He admitted under his breath. You heard a few words. But most of them were filtered out of your mind. And hard to hear because of how loud you were being.

You didn’t want the whole community to hear you. But you couldn’t help it. Every pound into you made.

“Full.. Full..”

You cried. He patted your tummy again. Sort of calculating how deep he reached you. And when he managed to see how much he dug into you, his cock twitched.

“Good observation sweetie..”

Quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. Back pressed tightly against his chest. He bearhugged you so tight your felt your ribs almost crush in. It was a perk, and a pain. When he pulled you closer the tears just got worse. The overwhelming feelings twitching your legs up.

It didn’t stop you though. You kept riding him like it would kill you if you stopped. His glasses began to get fogged up again due to his heavy breathing. Head falling back and his glasses pushed into his eyes. The lens touching his eyelids as he basked in the feeling of your tight, warm walls squeezing him dry.

Biting your bottom you kept riding him like a total psycho. If anyone were to see the faces you made in the moment you would just have to kill yourself.

You felt a sort of twisting in your stomach

“Imma cum… I wanna..”

He heard your plea and placed used one hand to grip your jaw. Holding open your mouth with just a hint of aggression. You noticed that when he was on the verge of cumming, his grip got tighter, his jaw clenched, and his voice was strained.

“Cum with me.. Do it with me baby..”

He kept your mouth open, his pointer finger slipping into your mouth.

Not long after he commanded you to do it with him. You did. Your orgasm hitting your like pebbles, but quickly turned to a whole bunch of boulders being thrown at your head. You felt your mind spin and your legs tremble. Then turn into jelly as it rushed over you. Everything felt unreal. And usually sensitive.

Not long after, maybe a minute after he came too. Just before he came he lifted you up. Pulling himself out just in time so his seed spurted all over your upper body. You watched it come out in strings of clear white. Painting your skin like a donut.

You both rid out your highs. Letting yourself grind against the upside of his cock, while he blissfully enjoyed the feeling of your swollen lips on his.

It felt completely well needed. After having to endure the pain that is cockwarming for a while. A long sigh left his mouth. As did yours.

Both your breathing patterns began to match with each others. Every exhale and inhale was lined perfectly with one another’s.

He let his finger out of your mouth. Watching as it was drenched in your spit. He rubbed it against his coat. Making sure all his fingers were dry before rubbing the underside of your eyes from all the salty tears.

“Ya need me to get a rag?..”

He grumbled. The lens of them a bit foggy from your head being pushed up against them. So he couldn’t see much clearly. But he could see the mess he made on your body.

“No.. No no.. Wait wait..”

Your voice scratchy from all your whining. You didn’t want him to move, and didn’t think he could move.

It stayed quiet. It always did after sex.

He kissed your eye again. A little ode to how much he cared.

He could finish those projects tomorrow morning. If you didn’t try this again.

E.N: HOLY NICHE 💔🕊️. It was kinda hard for me to write from this position since I hadn’t done it before. Especially cockwarming. So I’ll have to work on that!! (٥⁀▽⁀ ). I really hope this was a good read, reblogs, notes, and comments l appreciated!! XOXO - Mimi

[polaroidpascal]

i saw frankie kissing santa claus || joel & frankie

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales

summary : after everyone leaves your house for a holiday party, you find one straggler left behind -or- you catch frankie kissing santa claus joel

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, everyone in this fic is bi bc i am too and i said so, joel in a santa suit, reader and joel have a little (big) crush on frankie boy, handjob, blowjob(s), face sitting, multiple orgasms for reader, orgasm denial, lots and lots of leaking (from all of them. im sorry.), one in the mouth one down south, sizes mentioned, cum eating, creampie, aftercare bc its essential and they are softies!!!

WC : 6k

a/n : merry christmas to everyone who celebrates!! six months since ive written anything at all and now i'm back with a christmas special LMFAO 😭 honestly, life has been a hectic hell since i last posted and i'm really happy i was able to actually finish something i started to end out the year 🥹 i hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season, and i hope i won't be as much of a stranger as i have been lately!! hope you enjoy this!! <3

“Oh, come on, Joel! People are gonna love it!”

“I am not putting it on, end of discussion, “ he said. You huffed a sigh and plopped down on the couch, Santa hat and suit in hand draping over your legs. 

For as long as you had been seeing Joel, you’d begged and begged for him to let you plan one of his company holiday parties only for him to tell you that he’d rather just treat the guys to a night at a nice bar. He’d always let you come along, of course, feeding you whatever fruity little cocktails you asked for to pass the night along.

Last year was… something else. That summer, the company was absolutely swamped with projects, meaning Tommy and Joel had to hire some more help to keep up. One of the new hires, Francisco, “Frankie” for short, outshone all of his peers. He was effortlessly helpful in ways Tommy and Joel hadn’t even intended him to be. Just in the 6 months he had been with the company, he had already (rightfully) climbed a little higher up the ladder to help with the more important decisions rather than just being an extra set of hands on site.

Every now and then, Joel would tell you something else about Frankie that made your heart flutter with gratitude that the extra help was finally letting off some stress that he always seemed to carry. When August had rolled around, the Texas heat reached an all-time high. One particularly hot day, you suggested that Joel invite Frankie over to swim and barbecue so you could finally meet him.

He was a big man, just like Joel. Sturdy frame and tanned skin, and the sweetest manners a man could have, greeting you with a gentle handshake and a kindly playful, “It’s nice to meet you, Joel’s always talking about you.”

You spent the day in the sun and shade, sipping drinks and dipping into the cold water to stave off some of the brutal heat. The backyard filled with laughter all afternoon until the sun had finally set, the last hoorah of golden rays draining from the sky.

“So—“ Joel grunted, settling in bed with you as you curled into his side, “what’d you think of Frankie?”

“He’s great,” you hummed with a smile, settling into Joel’s post-shower warmth. “I can see why you like him so much, he seems exactly like how you always talked about him.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s somethin’. Ain’t like the other guys. Don’t have to tell him more ‘an once to do somethin’…”

You look up and see Joel staring into space, a glimmer of something else in his eye as he zones out.

A smirk slides into your cheek. “Mhm… kinda pretty too,” you tease.

“Huh?”

“He’s kinda… pretty. I don’t know.”

A ghost of a blush threatens to bloom across Joel’s chest as he shifts a bit underneath you. “Think he’s pretty, huh?”

“Well, yeah. Anyone with eyes can see that,” you giggle, propping up on one arm to fully face him. “Do you think he’s pretty?”

Joel stops, that once threatening blush beginning to spread a little more, a little darker. “Wh—?”

“Do you think Frankie is pretty?”

“Is this some sort of test or somethin’?”

“No, not a test. I just… you do realize you’ve been talking about him for months?”

“Well, he’s done real good for the company. Jus’ happy not to be so stressed all th’ time. You sure have been enjoying it.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Well, yes. But that’s not my point. Been talking about him for months and he had you laughing all afternoon today.”

“That ain’t fair, he had you laughing too. Matter of fact, them little shrieks could’a woke up a bear in hibernation,” he joked, poking at your ticklish spots and making you recreate those shrieks of giggles from earlier.

“Stop, stop! I get it!” you said between laughs. “Jesus…” You settled back into his arms pulling the covers over the two of you some more. “Doesn’t answer my question, though.” Joel hums and pulls you somehow closer and you get comfortable in his grip, feeling sleep start to claim your mind. “Do you?” you ask, voice dripping with fatigue.

“Do I what?”

“Think Frankie’s pretty?”

You feel him huff and shake his head, then you hear the smile in his voice, “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

You fell asleep that night with a smile.

—

“Bet you Frankie would like it if you got a little festive,” you pouted under your breath, just above barely audible, just where he would have to ask you—

“What was that?”

“I said I bet you Frankie would like it if you got a little festive.”

“‘S that so? And what makes you think I’d wanna put it on just to impress him, hm?”

“N— nothing… Please, put on the suit, Joel?” you beg, donning your biggest puppy eyes you can manage. “The whole house is already decorated. Everyone’s gonna love it. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll show them what’s up. But I promise they’re gonna love it. Pleeeeease?”

Joel stands, silent, crossing his arms and chewing his cheek, thinking.

A beat passes, then another beat, your relentless begging gaze boring holes into his heart.

He sighs. “Gimme the suit,” he says and extends a hand.

“Really? Really, Joel?”

“Gimme the suit ‘fore I change my mind,” he says, fighting the smile curing at the corners of his mouth.

—

You were right, the suit was a fucking hit.

Every one of Joel’s employees that walked in was enthusiastically shocked that the old man would get into the spirit, patting him on the back and hyping him up the whole night. Each reaction made you giggle as you greeted them all and showed them into the house.

Tommy was probably the most surprised of them all, giving his big brother so much shit about dressing up, but Joel just laughed it off and shoved his brother in the house.

Not long after Tommy arrived, the doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it!” you told Joel and made your way to the door.

It was Frankie, dressed in his nicest sweater and least damaged pair of jeans, still wearing that baseball cap he was never seen without, holding a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around it. 

“Frankie!” you exclaimed, extending your arms for a hug.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrible.”

“It’s okay, Tommy just showed up and he doesn’t have an excuse at all.”

Frankie laughs and remembers the bottle in his hands. “Oh, this is for you and Joel.” He hands it over with a smile.

“Oh, Frankie… you didn’t have to get us anything!”

“Consider it my thanks for all the hospitality,” he says.

“Well, thank you for the wine. Come in!”

There’s no need for a tour with him, having already been to your house countless times before this. When he rounds the corner into the kitchen, he nearly trips over his own feet seeing Joel. 

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention that,” you said, poorly hiding the giggle bubbling up in your throat.

“Hi, Frankie,” Joel says, shyly raising an arm to wave.

“Hey-y-y,” Frankie giggles, waving back with one arm and holding his stomach with the other, almost doubled over in laughter.

The party plays out better than you even thought it would, the warm, bass-y tones of laughter filling the space of your home as everyone mingles and eats and drinks. Minutes easily turn to hours effortlessly dragging the night along. The later it gets, the more people slowly filter out returning back to their homes. You walk Tommy out to his girlfriend, Maria’s car, whom you called about half an hour earlier when you overheard him tell someone one more wouldn’t hurt.

As you close the door and turn back to the house, surprisingly very neat for having just hosted a party of contractors, it’s… eerily quiet. You expected Joel to be just behind you waiting to come back inside so he could whisk you off to bed. But he was nowhere to be found. 

You creep back through the house, not seeing him anywhere. You round the corner to the living room and…

You thought everyone had left. But, you guess the last to arrive ended up being the last to leave as well.

You see Frankie and Joel sitting on the couch, Joel lounging as normal, still decked in his Santa gear, and Frankie sitting sideways facing him, one hand cupped on Joel’s jaw, kissing him so slow, so gently… so intoxicatingly beautiful.

You stay in the door frame for a minute watching the two make out on the couch, hearing the tiniest little grunts and groans from each of them. A fire ignites in your belly and quickly grows before you clear your throat to break the silence. 

Frankie leaps back, starting to fumble his words and blushing bright red almost immediately. You look at Joel who looks calm and collected as ever, if not just a little dazed and blissed from the kissing he was just doing. 

“I-I— um— we— I—“

“It’s okay, I’m not mad,” you say gently, convincingly as you can.

Frankie must have mastered the puppy eye look just as you had and was using them on you now. “Y-you’re… not?”

You chuckle. “No. Furthest from it, really.”

“Told you she’d be okay with it,” Joel pipes up, tugging him closer on the couch.

You inch closer into the room. “We, um… I think Joel and I have a… confession to make.” Frankie watches with big, curious eyes as you make your way to sit on Joel’s other side. “Joel… how can I put it… Joel has a little bit of a… crush on you, I’d say.”

“Now hang on one minute—“

“Thinks you’re an excellent worker, wouldn’t stop talking about you for months.”

“You’re the one that said to bring him over in the first place!” Joel argues. 

“That’s true. Just wanted to see the guy responsible for helping you out so much… Remember that first time you came over?”

Frankie nods, still watching as curious as ever. 

“Well… y’know what? You should tell him what you said, Joel.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know… about how you think he’s real pretty and all…”

You see Frankie shift a little out of the corner of your eye, barely causing a ripple in the couch attempting to hide the movement.

“If I remember correctly… you’re the one that said that first.”

Your cheeks grow a little hot at the admission. “But you agreed with me.”

“Well, ‘cause I do. Think he’s pretty.”

You finally glance back at Frankie whose blushing cheeks are bright red at this point. “All that to say… I think we both have a bit of a liking for you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he asks, completely unsure how he ended up here, but eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah. Is that… are you okay with that?”

“Shit... y-yeah— yes. Yes, I am,” he says, trying to keep a grasp on whatever composure he has left.

You smile back at him. “Good. Joel, you wanna show him to our room, then?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” he says, taking Frankie’s hand and giving it a kiss before leading him down the hall.

The three of you glide down the hall, the tension pouring out of your pores and making the air hotter, thicker, as you cross the threshold of the bedroom.

Joel leads Frankie to the edge of the bed, letting him sit and leaning in to give him a sweet, deep kiss to his plush lips. They both groan into it, savoring the softness of the other’s skin.

“Mmm… you should try, baby. He’s a real good kisser,” Joel offers.

You sit right next to Frankie, cupping his cheek to turn his face to you and kiss him. 

Joel’s right, too. He is a good kisser. His velvet soft lips part when his tongue darts out to taste yours, a small whimper slipping from his throat as your mouths dance together, getting to know one another, melting into one. Frankie reaches up to grab your face, willing your mouth closer into him and your body follows, all but climbing into his lap to taste more, more, more as his hands trail up your body under your shirt and up to your chest—

The kiss is only broken when Frankie moans into your mouth, looking away from you with a hooded stare as he finishes yanking off your shirt. You follow his gaze to the floor just between his legs where Joel has sunk to the floor, palming Frankie over his jeans.

“Tha’s gotta be uncomfortable, hm?” he asks, giving his bulge another gentle squeeze. Frankie grunts and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing and the slow leak threatening to ruin his pants. “Keep kissing him, angel. Gonna take care’a this.”

Joel’s hand slides up Frankie’s torso, slowly coaxing him to lay flat on the bed. You chase him with your mouth listening to each tiny gasp that leaves his lips as Joel gets to work with his pants.

The clink of his belt… the hum of a zipper… the tiny shimmy of Frankie’s hips as Joel slides his boxer briefs down his legs, stopping mid-thigh and running his hands back up to his hips.

“Jesus christ…” you hear him whisper, admiring the almost fully hardened length of the man in front of him, the tip of his cock shining in the low light from the bedside lamps, a small damp patch just barely seeping through to the outside of his underwear.

Joel’s own cock jumps at the sight. If he wasn’t turned on already from Frankie’s perfect lips, he sure as hell was turned on now. He can hardly keep himself from touching, one hand wrapping around Frankie’s length in an instant.

Frankie’s hips buck up and he pulls away from your mouth again, a low moan bellowing from his chest.

“Yeah? Feels good?” Joel mocks from below, lazily stroking up and down, up and down, swirling his hand at the top making Frankie squirm underneath him. “Look here, angel, look how hard he is.”

You glance down and can’t help the whimper that falls from your lips watching Joel slowly jerk Frankie off, the bright red tip leaking down his own length and making everything slick. And the sounds…

But it’s when you see that Joel’s other hand has his own length grasped in his palm, rubbing over his pants, that you let out a borderline growl… something about watching him get off to this… this idea that you had and felt brave enough to open the door of discussion to… this idea that Joel seemed more than happy to indulge in…

It’s then you realize how damp you feel, the wetness that’s been slowly building and building without you even realizing leaking out to soak your panties. You try to discreetly rub your legs together, seeking some sort of friction, anything at all.

But Joel sees it. He always sees it.

“Feelin’ left out, baby? She wants some attention, huh?”

You look at him with pleading eyes, an unspoken yes, yes please…

“Say, Frankie… that pretty mouth of yours got any other talents?”

Frankie looks down his body where Joel sits, already looking so fucked out and gone. “H-huh?”

“Take his mouth, go ‘head.”

Your body is buzzing as you look back at Frankie, the flame of arousal burning bright in his pupils as he frantically nods, leaning back for you to move. You take off your pants and ruined panties and shift over him, straddling his broad frame and maneuvering your knees around his head.

You hover over his face, looking down for permission to lower, “Is— Are you okay wi—”

You’re cut off by Frankie’s hands on the apex of your thighs tugging you down to meet his lips, and it is fucking heaven. “Oh, fuck…”

His scruff scratches the most sensitive parts of you, giving you exactly the friction you needed as his tongue greedily laps up your arousal, drinking it up like he’s been lost in the desert and you’re his oasis. You rock against his lips taking more and more of everything he’s giving you, and he helps you, coaxing you back and forth as more slick leaks from your hole. “Yeah, like that…” you moan, one hand slipping under his cap and through his ruffled hair, neither of you caring when it falls off onto the bed.

“Keep doin’ that, boy,” you hear Joel rumble behind you, followed by a whine from below right against your clit, making you jolt at the sudden vibration.

You look back and see Joel easing down Frankie’s length, slipping inch by inch down his throat, bobbing up and down taking more and more with each bob until he’s taken it all to the hilt.

God, is it a sight. You’re already whimpering watching him take more and more, but when he’s bottomed out and looks up, eyes barely watering, and he gives you a wink, you can’t help the downright pornographic moan that escapes your lips.

You turn back and look down at Frankie, seeing tears just starting to well in his eyes when he opens them with the most desperate gaze you’ve ever seen. “Fuck, Frankie… so fucking pretty…” you moan out, throwing your head back as his tongue dips inside you and his nose nudges your clit perfectly.

“Fuck…” you hear Joel gasp. “Fuck, angel… turn around, please. Lemme see that pretty face while he eats you out.”

You oblige, gently prying Frankie’s hands off your hips and cautiously spinning around over him. He gives you no time to settle back down, pulling you back flush with his face and drowning himself in you once again.

It’s a miracle he isn’t suffocating, or at least he doesn’t care if he is. He eats, and eats, and eats, your juices dripping down his face and his neck making a mess of him below. He works your hole and your clit, drawing out cries from you until your thighs are shaking, barely holding yourself up.

“Fuck yeah, baby… ride his fuckin’ face like that,” Joel encourages, stroking Frankie in tandem with the rock of your hips. “Gonna fuckin’ cum on his face, baby? Bet tha’s what he wants. ‘S that what you want, boy? Want her drippin’ down your tongue?”

You barely hear it over your whines, but a muffled mmhm is all you need to chase your rapidly building high, the feral need taking over you as you ride his face. His scruff tickles your most sensitive spots and his warm, wet, determined tongue works overtime to send you over the edge, and it fucking works, your orgasm crashing through you as you brace yourself on his belly, riding it out as you spill more slick down his face and his mouth works you through every second.

He doesn’t let up, licking you through every wave until you have to use every ounce of strength to fight his grip holding you down. You flop on the bed to the side and see Frankie’s face absolutely drenched in you, his mustache and scruffy beard soaking wet and his cheeks red as roses.

Frankie’s eyes are closed, his chest heaving as Joel works him faster, harder, the squelching noise from the precum furiously leaking from the tip of his cock almost drowning out the whines leaving his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… ohhhhh, fuck— waitwaitwait—” he begs, pleads, with any ounce of strength he can still muster up.

Joel stops in an instant, “What’s wrong? You okay, Frankie? What happened?” he asks, concern drenching every word.

“It’s… fuck… nothin’s wrong… just…” he huffs, trying desperately to catch his breath. “Fuck, didn’t… wanna cum yet… shit…”

Worry leaves Joel’s features in an instant, swiftly replaced by contentment and ease that he’s alright. “Ohhh… was gettin’ t’be too much, huh?”

“Yeah…” he answers, breathlessly.

Joel rises on creaky knees to stand from where he knelt, reaching for Frankie’s hand to sit him up again. “You good to stand?” he asks, gently, voice nothing but bass.

He helps Frankie up on wobbly legs and switches places with him, dragging him into his frame between his knees, reaching up to his face and kissing him, licking you off his lips. “Mmm… tastes good, don’t she?” he asks with a smirk before crashing back into Frankie’s mouth.

His hands leave Frankie’s face to tug down the costume pants, finally freeing his fully hardened cock, tugging on it a few times before reaching for Frankie’s hands and guiding them into his lap. Frankie’s hand wraps around Joel’s length, his grasp encompassing his whole girth, but just barely so. Joel helps his hand along, up and down, up and down, a steady rhythm to make his cock slippery in his grasp. 

Frankie’s hand feels perfect, but Joel is an impatient man. And when he wants something, he’s gonna get it.

“You wanna sit on Santa’s lap, Frankie?” he says with a downright diabolical smirk.

“Oh, fuck— yes, please. Can I?”

“‘Course you can,” Joel smiles, reaching for the hem of his pants again and tugging them all the way down as Frankie toes off his shoes and steps out of each pant leg. He pats his thigh right where it meets his torso, “C’mon, boy, right here.”

Joel scoots back on the bed to make room as Frankie kneels on the bed lining himself up with Joel’s length. Frankie spits on his hand generously, giving Joel a few more tugs before lining him up with his tight ring of muscle.

“Shit, boy… no stranger to this, huh?”

Frankie just blushes, slowly lowering down to Joel’s lap, moaning as his greedy hole takes inch after inch until he’s sitting flush with Joel’s pelvis. He rises and falls a few times before finding a slow, steady rhythm, throwing his head back and bouncing eagerly up and down.

You watch in awe as Frankie fucks himself on Joel’s cock, resting his arms on Joel’s broad shoulders just like you do, Joel’s hands sitting on Frankie’s hips just like they do on your own. You feel your core flutter at the sight, half unaware of the whiny whimper that falls from your lips and fully unaware of your hand traveling south to play with the slick still drenching your folds.

The noise makes Joel turn his head and he extends his hand to you dragging you closer to him. He grabs your cheek and kisses you, his tongue begging entry into your mouth as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie wills his eyes open, watching the two of you make out right in front of him. It makes his cock throb as he bounces harder, a little faster, and Joel can feel him getting impatient.He pulls away from your desperate mouth, holding Frankie’s hips still and met with a whining protest about it. 

“Calm down a sec, cowboy. Got an idea…” You both look to him with curious, fucked out eyes. “Gonna lay back an’ you’re gonna ride my face just like you did for him, ‘kay princess?”

You nod back firmly, making a move towards him—

“Ah, ah— eager girl. Wasn’t finished…” he turns and looks at Frankie. “You got a hard job, think you can handle it?”

Frankie nods just as firmly, desperate to hear his rules to follow. “U-uh huh, I can handle it. Please.”

“Gonna keep ridin’ this cock, got it? But… you don’t cum ‘til I say so. Not even when she does. Not ‘til I say.”

Frankie’s chest jumps as his breath hitches, a grunt of a moan stifled at the back of his throat. His eyes flutter as he nods, trying desperately to keep his hips stilled and finding it harder and harder.

“We all good?” 

“Yes— yeah, all good,” you and Frankie both enthusiastically agree, desperate for more.

Joel leans back, tugging your hand his way. As you go to straddle him, he stops you. “Face him, baby. He didn’t get to see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

Your eyes roll a bit as you lazily agree, spinning around to face Frankie. Sweat makes his forehead twinkle as he slowly rocks and bobs in Joel’s lap. You lower onto Joel’s face and immediately brace yourself on his belly, the feeling of his tongue more intense this time, still sensitive from before.

As hard as it is to keep his eyes open, Frankie can’t peel his gaze away from your face, contorted in pleasure as moans spill from your lips. “Oh, Joel… fuck, yes…”

Frankie can’t help but reach towards you, just wanting to touch you, feel your body… he cups your tits over your bra that you quickly undo and toss off the bed, desperate to feel his hands on your skin. “Go ahead, Frankie. Touch me, please,” you beg, holding his hands to your chest and squeezing them.

He mirrors you, kneading the flesh there and quickly throwing you back into the fire as Joel’s skillful tongue brings you closer and closer to the edge already. He never fails to unravel you in an instant, his tongue memorizing every inch of you right down to the softest spots that send you reeling in the blink of an eye.

It’s barely long at all before you feel the fire burning in your belly again, growing and growing as you desperately try to last just a little longer.

You distract yourself in Frankie, mesmerized by his face and his body that you wish you could see more of, hiding under his t-shirt that’s somehow still on.

“This—” you say, pawing at the hem of his shirt, “Off. Get this off—”

He doesn’t hesitate to help you peel his shirt off his sweaty body, throwing it haphazardly off the bed. His body is beautiful, the curves of his belly mirroring Joel’s so closely, and your hands are drawn to his skin like magnets, feeling every inch you can reach.

You don’t realize you’re lifting away from Joel’s face until he yanks you back down again, mercilessly lapping at your folds.

He pulls off again, just for a moment. “‘Member angel, he can’t come ‘til I say. Longer you’re ridin’ my face, longer he’s gotta wait.”

He’s back on your cunt in an instant, and your fluttering eyes barely catch the aroused and panicked expression on Frankie’s face. His cock makes a mess of Joel’s belly below, the leaking head spilling pearly white now as it gets harder and harder to stave off his orgasm. He languidly rocks back and forth trying desperately not to spill all over Joel’s gut before he’s allowed to.

Watching Frankie try so hard to keep his composure, teetering on the edge of collapse, turns you on more than you can even describe. Your hips move on their own at this point, or maybe it’s purely Joel rocking you in just the way he knows drives you crazy.

“Talk to ‘er,” he mumbles to Frankie from under your wet heat.

Your eyes blow wide, the growing fire turning to a blaze when Frankie opens his mouth.

“Fuck… g-gonna fucking cum for him too? Oh, shit… wanna… wanna see your face… when you—”

Frankie’s babbling is cut off by your moans as you cum for a second time tonight, thighs quivering and hips bucking on Joel’s face. He licks you through it, controlling the movement of your hips as you lose all control.

“Oh, my god… h-holy shit—” Frankie stops all movement, seconds away from making a mess of himself, Joel, and you sitting in front of him. His eyes bolt shut as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, shaking when Joel eases you off of his face. 

He sits up cupping Frankie’s face in his hands. “Got a little more fight in you?”

Frankie takes a deep breath. “Mhm… yeah, uh huh…”

Joel chuckles low, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Good. Hop off.”

Frankie’s eyes pop open, but he obliges, easing himself off of Joel’s length with a whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Go ‘head and climb up there,” Joel instructs gently as Frankie climbs onto the bed where you lay, still a puddle of overstimulated mess. Joel gently tugs at your ankles pulling you towards the end of the bed, leaning down to kiss you, soft and sweet. 

“Can you gimme one more, angel? Can you stay up for me?”

Your eyes try their best to focus on his face, a hazy blur clouding your vision just a bit as you hum and nod to him. “Uh huh… can stay up…”

“Attagirl… alright, hands and knees, baby.”

You do as you’re told, flipping over and around so your backside faces him at the end of the bed. He stands over your body, hands gliding over the globes of your ass, up your back, stroking every inch of bare skin spread in front of him. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous…” he mumbles, before laying a tap to your ass, causing you to jolt a little and whine at the contact. “Alright Frankie…” Frankie perks up, hanging onto Joel’s every word. “‘M gonna take this pretty hole back here… An’ you take that one up there. Sounds good?”

You clench around nothing. The idea of both of them filling you as much as you can take… Using you for their pleasure…

“Fuck… yeah, good, mhm…” Frankie babbles, shimmying himself to kneel in front of you.

You look up at him, down his body, to his ruddy cock, hard as diamond right in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight and you motion for him to come a little closer.

Joel grabs his length, lining the head up with your entrance. You stifle a whimper at just the contact of his fat tip pressing into your most sensitive spots. “Ready?” he asks. You both whimper a yes, ready.

They both enter you at the same time, sliding into you wet, wanting holes cautiously first, but easily. So, so easily. The three of you groan in pleasure, them from your warmth and you from the fullness.

Joel sets a pace, fucking in and out of your dripping cunt with ease, quite a feat for the sheer fucking size of him, but you’re so worked up that you practically suck him in and dont dare to let him go. Frankie doesn’t follow Joel’s face, testing the waters of your throat and what it can take.

“She can handle it, boy. If she can take all’a me, she can take all’a you too,” Joel says with a wink.

Neither one of them is small by any means, but Joel was right. He was a bit thicker than Frankie is, and it took a while for your mouth to get used to his size. And while Frankie wasn’t as thick, he might have been just a little longer. It was impossible to tell now, though, they both felt impossibly huge stuffed inside of you, each of them chasing their own highs.

Joel’s pace has already picked up, the warm walls of your pussy crying for him to keep going, don’t stop, right there… the grip on your hips unforgiving as he slams in and drags back out over and over and over…

Frankie keeps rocking into your mouth, a little faster now, and you taste the salty precum leaking onto your tongue and down your throat.

“So fuckin’ hot, angel… stuffed so fuckin’ full…”

“God, you feel good…” Frankie whispers down to you, and you wish you could see his face while you take him to the hilt. Instead, you pull away and spit directly onto the head of his cock before taking him back into your throat completely, using one hand to play with his balls. “Oh, fuck… oh, fuck…”

“Ah ah, boy— unh— not— not ‘til I say,” Joel reminds him.

Frankie takes a few deep breaths, holding your face so delicately, like it could break, trying to ground himself and fucking focus…

“One more, baby, one more right on this cock… an’ then you can too, boy…”

Joel fucks you harder, faster, bruising your cervix with every thrust, the ridges of his cock dragging along every nerve ending in your walls bringing you closer, and closer, and closer—

“Oh, fuck, Joel! Right there! Don’t fucking stop!”

He doesn’t. Not at all. He keeps the same relentless pace, hitting that soft spot deep inside you that he always finds without fail. You flutter around his length, clamping down on him as he reaches around your front to find your clit. He teases your little bundle of nerves, circle after circle after circle, hurdling you closer and closer to release.

“Fuck, tha’s right, baby. Tha’s fuckin’ right.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum, Joel,” Frankie cries, his hips bucking out of rhythm.

“Yeah? Gonna spill down her throat while she’s creamin’ my cock? Go ‘head, both of y’all, at the same time. C’mon—” he grunts, one strong thrust sending you reeling, spasming, damn near collapsing onto the bed as your third orgasm rips through you at an earth-shattering rate.

“Jesus fucking christ—” Frankie groans before his own thighs are trembling, his cock throbbing in your mouth as ropes of cum shoot down your throat, fucking himself in your mouth through his own high, the vibrations from your moans making his body shiver as you drain him empty.

Like dominos falling, Joel is next to go, painting your walls with his spend at the sight of you and Frankie falling apart right in front of him, throbbing in your overstimulated cunt as both ends suck each man dry.

The three of you are a pile of huffing, heaving messes, catching your breaths and dripping sweat onto your sheets. After a minute, Joel slowly slides out of you, his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and dripping onto the sheets. The rest of your body plops down onto the mattress when he lets you go.

Joel steps back and looks at the two of you, sprawled out on the bed in a completely fucked out daze, and chuckles.

“Guess that that was a good enough present for the two’a you, huh?”

You both give a tired, breathy giggle stretching and wiggling around the mattress. You crawl up towards Frankie laying on the pillows and curl into him, and he welcomes you like this is something you’ve always done, with ease, with comfort.

Joel walks into your bathroom and returns with a towel, cleaning you up before climbing next to you, now sandwiched between the two burly men, all three of you basking in post-coital bliss.

“That is… not how I thought the night would end,” Frankie says with a sigh and a chuckle.

You giggle back. “No? Not even a little?” you tease.

Frankie hums a laugh. “So, was this… is this something that you guys… talked about before?”

You turn a little and look at Joel who is just admiring the two of you. His eyebrows raise a bit, an exhale of a laugh leaving his lungs. “Hmm… I mean, It’s come up a few times.”

Frankie turns his head to look at Joel, silently asking for more.

“Started that first time you came over an’ it just… I don’t know, it would come up from time to time. Was never opposed to the idea and… Tonight was the night the pieces fell just right, I s’pose,” he explains, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You can see it haunting Frankie’s lips too, threatening to show just how much he enjoyed this too.

“Think it’s safe to say we all enjoyed it, huh?” you tease again, nudging Frankie and throwing Joel a knowing glance. Frankie turns away, blushing.

The three of you cuddle a little closer, savoring each other’s company, glowing with pleasure as you lay there, falling asleep knowing things might have changed, but for the absolute better.

[kalpeavaris]

im exploding each and every one of these men with my mind

some sketched portraits for the human characters & how I imagine them teehee :3c needed some practice bc I haven't drawn a lot in a hot minute after finishing the two shaded comms toodaloo right back at commission work i shall go after these o/

also find some headcanons & info stuff about each of these creachures below the "read more" pretty pleaseee (most of it is related to my Papaver Somniferum AU)

i have so many thoughts about these men in my mind they're bad evil people but gawdDAMN i cant stop thinking about them

Harley Sawyer

Born in 1933, trained neurosurgeon, 60 years old at the time of him being turned into experiment 1354. He may not look like it at first glance, but his demeanor and ego is exactly what made him so unloved within his own circles. Sawyer's extremely egotistical, sees himself above all (even if he's not correct in something) and his demeanor is extremely toxic. He's basically making work miserable for everyone around him through harsh demands and perfectionism while never holding himself to the same standard, which causes friction.

Leith Pierre

Leith's similar to Sawyer in regards of him being very cocky. He prides himself on a lot of things and isn't shy to put his name into the credits of someone else's work, especially after Elliot's passing and him becoming the CEO of the company. He's pushing his position a LOT and loves to hover over people to oversee their work... and yeah, you guessed it, pretend like he had contributed any workforce to it. He's basically Sawyer's ego but less prone to violence or experimentation, since he himself keeps his hands clean from any blood, which he also uses as some sort of argument that he was innocent regarding the Bigger Bodies project despite his knowledge and active participation behind the scenes.

Eddie Ritterman

Eddie's cold and disconnected demeanor from most people around him comes in part from his inability to see value in human life, sometimes even regarding his own. He's very withdrawn from people and always looks like he doesn't want to be in the room with anyone, even those he deems his "closest business partners". He's not above violence and threatening people, or even getting physical with those that might be a danger to the project. He has no regard for the victims of the project and the second he overhears someone being unsure he's the first to make the suggestion of murder.

Bruno White

While not innocent of the crimes committed through his actions, Dr. White appears to be more emotional over the happenings in the Bigger Bodies initiative. While he still follows every order given and actively participates, there's a twinge of consciousness behind his eyes and mind that is missing in any of the other people besides Stella. He secretly envies her for speaking her doubts aloud, though he's aware of him being no better than Dr. Sawyer in regards to operating and experimenting on children.

[mrcrawly]

Jayvik headcanons

hello jayvik nation im dumping these here bc im almost done with the second chapter of my fic and these have been stewing a while

Viktor

has the most beautiful curly calligraphy handwriting ever but it's so curly and fancy you genuinely can't read it

Ibuprofen allergy. source: my twisted mind

fidgeting with stuff all the time. paperclips, pencils, clips, rubber bands, the buttons on his vest

bonus to that one: he messes with his vest buttons so much that Jayce is constantly having to sew them back on when they come off

chronic nail biter

big sweet tooth

great cook but a shitty baker

"get even" kind of person; probably holds grudges from the second grade

doesn't cry very often but can be sensitive in the sense that he cares very much how his closest friends view him and internalizes their opinions

love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service

likes to be touched but not held (autism)

hates winter because it makes his joints hurt, summer is unbearably hot and he can't stand it, he has spring allergies; default fall enjoyer

animals really like him and strays tend to show up at the lab or follow him around

children like Viktor. Viktor doesn't like children back

kids will sometimes randomly talk to him and tell him things in public and he doesn't have the heart to be mean to them or ignore them so he just sits there like "mhm ☺️" while they talk until their parents apologize and walk off

probably has a pet reptile (a turtle or some kind of lizard methinks)

cold natured and wears seven hundred billion blankets to bed every night no matter the season

identifies as male in the sense that he was born a man and just never bothered to think much about it but doesn't fully grasp the concept or purpose of gender. could tell you what makes a man a man or what makes a woman a woman but doesn't understand why nor care

interested in jayce from the beginning but never felt as if he was in competition with Mel

sorry they can pry the JayMelVik love triangle out of my cold dead hands ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

not very affectionate because he doesn't know how to discuss his own feelings but very good at soothing other people

Jayce

dysgraphia (i think that's the term?) – not many issues with reading but not the best with writing

viktor is hyperlexic so it works out alright

AMAZING at drawing. like if he didn't have the passion for science he would be an artist. he draws out all their diagrams and blueprints and Viktor labels them

can cook pretty well but doesn't like to do it; if he stays at Viktor's place then Viktor always cooks for him

likes baking because he controls every single thing that goes in and it's very exact

both he and Viktor have chronic pain in their hands (carpal tunnel) from spending all their time taking notes and working with small delicate parts

he doesn't complain about his even when it bothers him because it feels silly knowing how bad Viktor's pain is every day 💔💔💔💔

10,000 step haircare routine but Viktor's looks better anyway

used to be prone to acne as a teen (if accutane existed in arcane he would have been an accutane kid)

(i was an accutane kid and im projecting)

shaved regularly pre-hexcore because his father had facial hair and he looks a lot like his dad anyway; he was always a little worried if he grew it out it would remind Ximena too much of his dad and make her sad

took entire days off of work and pushed deadlines back when Viktor got bad just so he could stay with him when Viktor was in too much pain to do practically anything

used to deliberately sleep in the lab because Viktor would stay late and he didn't want Viktor to be alone in case he passed out or something happened

love languages are physical touch, gift giving, and quality time

money doesn't exist to him when he's buying other people things. can't do secret santas at Christmas bc he constantly exceeds the budget

simultaneously one of those people who legitimately cannot accept gifts and feels bad when people give him things

was genuinely so in love with Mel; used to have dreams about marrying her and living somewhere quiet with her

most definitely forgave her for manipulating him on the council and understood her but it was just never the same

bottom. argue with the wall

OUGHHHH my shayla 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

guess my favorite character challenge level impossible (it's so unbelievably obvious)

[mysterycitrus]

I know a lot of ppl ask u abt jason or dick but im wondering now, what do u think about bruce? I find him a very interesting character whose characterization is incredibly feeble, both bc of his 80 years of history and the tendency writers have to project their own male fantasies on him. So i'd definitely love to hear ur own thoughts about him. I personally enjoy depicting him as someone morally grey, although my sympatization for him changes day to day. Wether you think he is a good or a bad person, i believe u need to make him dedicated to gotham and the bat as a symbol, and that comes with all its advantages and drawbacks

bruce wayne is sooooo interesting (derogatory) because like u said, he carries the baggage of every masochismo author that decided batman was too woke and should hurt his kids and that supporting gotham’s infrastructure is for pussies. there’s also the flipside of that, where he’s the perfect father who’s waaaay too emotionally regulated for my taste. both of these interpretations are bad imo, and both functionally miss the point.

i think part of this (in fandom) is an obsession with moral angst — u can either be a good person doing good things, or a bad person doing bad things. think about how some characters are crucified while others are babied. someone always has to be absolutely right, and the other has to be absolutely wrong.

in reality, there are a lot of people who are fundamentally kind and fundamentally want to do good that are really terrible to the people in their lives. bruce wayne being someone who relies on having so much control that it implodes his connections to the people around him is an important part of his character. his profound love for his children, for gotham and her people, for humanity in general and his belief in peoples ability to change, doesn’t circumvent the fact that he’s often an emotionally abusive man who hurts others to achieve his own ends. he contains multitudes.

writing him as a functionally irredeemable, violently abusive person is the anti-thesis to the symbol that he himself created. no, i personally don’t believe he actively beats his kids (even though it’s supported in the text). no, i don’t think he’s an irredeemable sadist (as much as frank miller wants u to believe otherwise). to have people like dick grayson and diana and clark and dinah love and believe in u means that there has to be something there worth caring about, otherwise the whole universe is gonna fall apart.

that’s what makes his relationship to cass so interesting — he sees his neuroticism, his dedication to the cause above all else, and does not find it admirable. he finds it confronting and upsetting. and to be clear, cass (like dick) is very much the moral ideal of what batman should be, but still bruce finds it hard to deal with!!

his abject failures — his treatment of the robins, his crippling guilt about jason, his fears of becoming a killer, the impossible load he gives himself to carry — means that when he’s shown as someone who genuinely cares, it makes him more complex. like yeah, bruce isn’t actually a cold hearted person. he really really gives a shit. too many shits, to be totally honest. he’s a morally grey person that wants to do good, but is so terrified of losing control that he keeps others away and hurts them in the process. there’s a reason why his emotional crutch was a traumatised eight year old fr. nothing is more important than the mission, including bruce wayne himself

[arthenaa]

a daffodil's camellia— ominis x gn!reader

summary: you think your purpose has always been to love him.

warnings: angst/no comfort, arranged marriage, indirect exclusion, HEARTACHE, unrequited love, reader is kinda a pushover but its bc of generational trauma guys !!! imelda is a great friend, the imelda bias here is unreal so sorry im just projecting, ableism behavior guys bc these mfs are too privileged, i am fr trying to break ur heart ig. NOT PROOFREAD im lazy.

note: HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!! i slept on this mb,,,,, the angst ominis fic that i talked abt last time but didn't upload until now .... oc cameo from @localravenclaw and @esolean !! (Ren and Lydia) hope u guys enjoy this! anys have fun reading

All your life, you think that this was what you’ve been born to do.

It’s engraved in years of tradition and history, a role you had to partake in the moment you came out of the womb. It was predetermined that your fate would end up in this situation.

Purity was an important factor for the historical families of the Wizarding world. Those who had come down from powerful bloodlines consider the tradition of keeping the family pure a sacred tradition of their power and authority over society.

A pedestal created from years and years of bloodshed to hone the perfection of wizardry and magic today. You suppose it was only an act of gratitude to be part of a long-lasting dynasty that preserved the sacred power of your ancestors. You know it’s an honor to be tasked with this role—to be given the duty of creating more branches for future generations.

You should know because this was what you were born to do.

Born and raised to be a bridge for other Pureblood families to lengthen their authority and claim over their self-built thrones. They say it’s a privilege—to be part of a family descended from the Great Four or just have connections with them through their ancestors’ relationships.

To be pure is to be great.

To be pure is to live a life filled with luxuries.

Opportunities are immediately given with just a snap of their fingers. Their authority precedes those whose blood is stained with the lesser. You’d think living a life of a pureblood would just entail all roses and gold.

Y/N would beg to differ.

“Keep your head bowed and hands on your lap,” Your mother’s voice is ever so cold. The carriage rustles with each bump against rocky terrain. You suppose it's about time you've gotten used to her tone but the booming surprise of her voice has a way of sinking its claws deep within your small heart. As a child, obedience was the foremost value you learned to be of importance. You knew that if you flick your head slightly off angle to your usual disposition due to an interest in your surroundings or the people around you, you would only get the receiving end of your mother’s wand. You knew that you'll be locked down in that dreaded abyss if your bow stuttered due to a misplacement of your foot in front of other pureblood families.

At a young age, you knew enough to not make a mistake.

Born third to the Rosier family's eldest son, you knew that your duty was to form connections—Marry off into other pureblood families and create the next generation of talented pureblood wizards. Wizards have the natural right to take what’s theirs because of their authority over society. A vision that threatens those beneath them.

So you keep your head bowed and palms tucked nicely on your lap with one palm over the other. Your mother is a cold and moving force beside you as you tried to match her pace despite your small little legs. At the age of 7, you are brought by your mother for marriage negotiations.

“Your husband will be an esteemed member of the Gaunts,” You remember your father declaring over tea. He sits menacingly in the front of the table, the glow of the flames behind him making his figure all the more unreachable. You know to only nod and not question any further. He makes a point by knocking on the wooden surface of the long dinner table that seems to stretch farther with each day. You wonder if the spaces beside you will ever be filled. You turn to him at the beckoning of your attention. “You listen carefully to your future husband, child. I cannot afford another failure.”

His words engrave deeply within your poor meek heart. You know that if you deny it, you’ll suffer the same fate that of your older sister—the one who tried to get a glimpse of the love and normalcy she desperately wanted yet ended with a tragedy.

You remembered that day in such vivid detail—the cold looks of your parents as they looked down at the state of their eldest daughter, who bawls and claws at any sort of reaction from the still and lifeless figure of her former lover.

So just like the obedient perfect child that you are, you nod and bow—subservient to the influences of those who claim to be wiser than you. You can only do so much to control your faith so alas, you let go and let the others hold the reigns.

That is until you meet him.

You were faintly aware of what he looked like. A boy with eyes as bright as the clouds, hair so smooth—so blonde that it gleams perfectly in the sunlight, and moles that litter his face, mimicking the night sky. These were murmurs of him from the servants in the halls of your manor. They say his beauty is compared to that of Rowena Ravenclaw and his demeanor spoke true as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. However, there were also whispers of his only flaw.

“They say the young lord does not see.”

You wondered before how true the nature of the gossip of the young lord was when you took your first step inside the Gaunt estate, but now, as you stand before him who seems detached from the world with his eyes as dull as the morning sky on a rainy day, you suddenly make a conclusive remark about him.

He was truly a sight to behold.

“This is the young Lord, Ominis Gaunt," His mother declares proudly from her place, chest puffed and earrings dangling from the heaviness of the jewels that clung tightly to their placements. His father stands idly and lets his wife do all the matching. Your mother only smiles, placing a firm hand on your back—reminding you of your duty.

You bow with the elegance that of a noble—A move you’ve honed to perfection from years and years of teaching and practice. You rise back up with the same pace, eyes peering up at him from your lashes. He only seems to daze off into the distance.

“This is Lady Y/N Rosier. We’ll serve you well.”

The silence is unbearable.

You think that maybe after the taxing interaction with the grown-ups and being able to interact alone with the young lord would allow you to finally discover his true personality.

That, however, continues to be a difficulty.

"Do you like fencing, my lord?" You ask, trying to break the ice as you sit across from him in one of the receiving rooms of the Gaunt's huge manor. "Or perhaps history?"

"Stop asking." He replies curtly, stance devoid of interest. You continue to dig deep into that shell of his, hoping that your incessant need to make conversation would crumble the defensive walls he put up.

"I hear you're quite skilled in astronomy, my lord—"

"Don't call me that."

"What do I call you then?" You perk up, cheeks gleaming with a smile. The furrowing of his eyebrows only digs deeper.

"It appears that I am an avid fan of silence. I suggest not speaking at all," For a 7-year-old, his voice is cold and authoritative. You suppose it's because of his closeness to the Great Four that he is granted with such ability to freely talk however he wants. Your eyes glimmer in awe.

"I just want to get to know my future husband," You retort, trying to make sense of your fiance. You pout like a child, feet swinging back and forth—allowing yourself a moment of reprieve from the stiffness of tradition. "Mother says it's customary for us to be familiar with one another at a young age to establish proper connec—"

His hands slam hard at the wooden surface of the table in front of you. You flinch, a bit surprised by his sudden show of strength. You admit that maybe you've gone a bit too far with the questioning, but it was all for a good purpose anyway! You two are to be one in due time. So, what was so wrong about getting to know him?

You wonder if you'll ever be like him someday. To carry himself in such a stance that he doesn't need to nod or bow to anyone. He tilts his head in the direction of your voice, face contorted into a glare.

"I'll be on my way," He murmurs, voice calm, and yet his disposition evokes anger and frustration. You watch him with bated breath as he walks towards the double doors, the servants bowing and opening it for him with ease.

You know that this should be the final nail in the coffin. To detest the boy you'll soon marry as he turns into a man whose values and inhibitions clung onto him like a wolf who won't release it's jaws onto prey. You know and yet your fingers crumple the fabric of your skirt, eyes looking forward to your next meeting.

The next time you meet him is over tea. It was the turn of the Gaunts to visit your manor as dictated by the tradition of courting within noble houses. You've practiced this scenario over and over. Countless of times alone, with your governess, and with your mother. It's engraved within the depths of your mind as the wounds of the past sting with each sip of your drink.

Act like a noble. Drink like a high-born. Be a pureblood.

The thoughts ring harshly with each thump of your beating heart. Your fingers twitch, and your form stiffens—all for the sake of tradition. The words branding the forefront of your mind as you feel the intensity of your mother's gaze.

I have to do good. I need to do good.

"Your estate is a wonderful place, Lady Rosier," The Gaunt Matriarch addresses your mother with an esteemed elegance—to which your mother only responds with a courteous smile, a part of her façade.

Your mother never liked purebloods but she respected tradition. She smiles and bows in front of her peers but mocks and beseeches them in the comfort of her room.

You don't understand your mother but as a young child, validation from her was the only thing you ever wanted.

And so you try.

"It's all due to our ancestors' hard work in keeping the Rosier history alive through the manor's architecture," You respond, lips contorted into a gentle smile. The Gaunts seem impressed by your interest in the conversation and from the corner of your eye, you see your mother shift in her seat.

"I see," Lord Gaunt eyes you with a glint of interest in his eye, and he shifts his attention to your parents. "Lord and Lady Rosier, you've raised a daughter worthy of her blood. I applaud you."

Your mother smiles and for the first time, you feel your heart thump at the recognition of doing good. She then responds, "As they should be. It is their role to be worthy and I'm sure she'll be a wonderful spouse to the young master."

Your attention then shifts to the quiet blonde sitting idly in his seat. His face is stone cold, eyes dull, and fists clenching the material of his seat so hard it turns white.

Anger was the first emotion you've seen on Ominis's face.

You wonder if you'll get to see more.

"Aren't you excited?"

You squeal, influenced by the utter joy of finally attending school. It's your first year.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where most wizarding families are built and made from. Many of your relatives built their name from their experiences as a student in Hogwarts—after all it was in your blood to be ambitious. To dream of the impossible and achieve it by any means. That's why your family house dons the colors of green and silver—a direct allegiance to the house of Slytherin, that of which many of your blood relatives reside during their time as a student.

While being excited about Hogwarts was already a given factor as a child of magic, there's also one thing you're most excited about.

"Stop bouncing about, Y/N," Ominis grumbled as he heaved his bag over his shoulder. "We still have to find our damn car."

Your relationship with Ominis did progress in some ways. He's less grouchy now and tolerates your personality enough to let you stay by his side. You've gotten used to its indifference but you think that it's good progress with how he talks more with you albeit still with glares and a cold demeanor.

He pays you no mind as he traverses through the narrow pathway of the train with the guide of his wand. You follow closely behind, hands carrying your suitcase as Ominis guides you to your assigned car.

"I can't help it, I'm literally bursting with energy," You whine as Ominis finally reaches your destination, slides the door open, and places his things inside. He plops down to the farthest corner and leans back to rest. You immediately claim the seat next to him to which he grumbles.

"There's plenty of seats for you to take," He scowls, gesturing to the empty seats in front of you both. You only giggle as you snuggle up next to him.

"Oh don't be such a stone-faced troll, Ominis!" You whine, slapping his arm. He tenses with anger at the gesture. "It's natural for me as your fiancée to be as close to you as possible."

"Stop calling yourself that," His eyebrows furrow in annoyance, jaw clenching in anger. You roll your eyes, not minding his hostility.

"But I am though?"

"I swear to Merlin's name and everything he holds dear, if you don't—"

The slide of the door halts your conversation as your eyes and his head flick toward the sudden disturbance. Two brunettes pop in, one seemingly looking like a direct copy of the other. They blink, eyebrows raised as they stare at the two of you.

"116?" The boy asks with an awkward smile. "Are we interrupting something?"

You pull yourself slowly from Ominis's space at the prospect of new friendships. You smile. "No worries, just a lovers' quarrel. I assume you're the ones we'll share the car with?"

"There is no lovers' quarrel." Ominis firmly states. The two purse their lips in slight hesitance. "Please, do join us though. Merlin knows I need it."

The two then make their way to sit in the remaining two empty seats, placing their luggage in the compartment under. You smile as they settle down in their seats, bright smiles plastered on their faces.

"Right," The boy starts. "Uh, I'm Sebastian Sallow and this is my sister, Anne. It's nice to meet you both."

You nod excitedly at the introduction, delighted to make friends at the present opportunity.

"I'm Y/N Rosier," You respond. You then gesture to the blonde next to you. "And this is Ominis Gaunt, my fian—"

"Friend." Ominis cuts through, overpowering your voice. You turn to him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "They mean friend."

The twins glanced at the two of you, puzzled by the shifting of the balance in your dynamics. Anne breaks the silence.

"Well, we'll be spending quite a long while here, I hope to make your acquaintance," The Sallow girl beams. Sebastian nods at his sister's words while Ominis responds with a hum of agreement.

There's not much to say when the group falls into silence once more. The four of you were strangers after all, still not used to the presence of someone new but the feeling is welcomed.

Your eyes glance at Ominis who seems to have been resting his eyes, leaning his head against the wall—waiting for the train to begin its course. The corner of your lips curl up at his iridescent beauty.

The train sounds its whistle beginning your journey.

"Are you dumb?"

Imelda blatantly states as she stares at you with disinterest in her eyes. She takes a bite of her apple. "Or just purely ignorant of what's actually happening?"

On your 3rd year at Hogwarts, you somehow get grounded to reality through the presence of Imelda Reyes.

You suppose it's all in due time that you'd be awakened from the trauma-inducing nightmare of tradition and sacred rules of your family. The need to fulfill your role. To give Ominis a home he needs, a family he wants, and a lover he deserves. You suppose that your role overshadowed your judgment of his character and behavior.

You had gotten used to it. To his blatant ignorance of your efforts, the glares, sarcastic comments, seething scoffs, or the fact that sometimes, he doesn't see you at all.

He's always like this, you think. You were never bothered by his indifference. You believed that you could love him enough for the both of you.

You were stupidly wrong about that too.

Sebastian and Anne are terrific company. After being acquainted in your first year, your little group had been formed then and there. The two of them stayed for the past 2 years and you were truly grateful for them. However, the twins were mostly close to Ominis. You didn't mind the gaps between you and the siblings seeing as you prioritized your relationship with Ominis more than anything.

You never really considered it to be a bad thing.

That is until Imelda begins to scratch at the surface of your finely built walls.

You purse your lips, minding your own business as you continue to sew a new stitch into the stretched fabric. You were unfortunate enough to share the dorm room with Imelda and while you enjoyed the rambunctious' Slytherin Quidditch Captain's companionship, this was certainly not something you'd rather talk with her. Everything was fine and there was no need to nitpick at every detail.

Your needle pokes through the hole, goes in, then out—thread sliding swiftly in the path you've carved out for it.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Imelda," You try to deflect her inquisitive nature. She rolls her eyes.

"It's just–" She pauses to readjust her position, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees—she eyes you with keen interest. "I'm truly amazed how you've gone 3 years with him."

You glance up at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Stop speaking ill of Ominis."

Imelda lets out a loud laugh at your response. "And you even dare to defend him? Are you sure you're not dumb?"

You forcefully drop your sewing tools on your lap as you heave a sigh at her words. You turn to face her fully. "What do you want?"

"Why stay?" She responds, direct. She takes another bite of the apple.

There's a momentary pause of silence as the question rings in your mind. You had half a mind to just drop the conversation and leave but some part of you somehow wanted to defend yourself.

"He's just Ominis. He's always been like that," You respond, chest puffed in self-proclaimed confidence. "We grew up together. We're promised for each other. That's all I need—"

A sudden burst of laughter from Imelda catches you off guard. You flinch in surprise as you watch the brunette Slytherin double down in laughter. Somehow, the clawing feeling inside you becomes more prominent with each giggle and huff from the woman's lips. Your nail begins to scratch at the skin of your thumb.

"H-Holy shit," Imelda sighs in laughter, brushing off a stray tear. She giggles a few more times before finally settling down with a smile. "You're worse than I thought."

She tilts her head with a condescending look on her face.

"Have you ever seen him with the twins? Alone?" She asks. That sets off wave after wave of uncomfortable thumping within your chest. You let out a shaky breath. "I suppose you don't because you're always so focused on your dearest fiance—Actually, y'know! If you just tried to properly look at him. Maybe, just maybe, you'd finally get a grasp of yourself."

Your jaw clenches and palms sweat.

"Stop it." You try to get a hold of yourself. To take control of the situation and get a grip on your thoughts that seem to get more and more chaotic as time passes. However, despite your tries, Imelda overpowers you once more.

"Y/N," She leans forward to rest her arms on the wooden surface of the table. "Maybe, you don't know much about him at all."

Your eyes are locked on hers at the prompt of her words. You can't bring yourself to deny despite the flurry of emotions bursting within you. She tilts her head and gives you a sympathetic look.

You walked out with no response.

On your 5th year, the presence of a new student shook the halls of Hogwarts.

It was uncommon, of course, that a wizard would get admitted at such a late year and while the idea of a new 5th year would turn a few heads in curiosity, this was not the only source of attention.

Over the course of the first few days back to school, you hear talks of the new 5th year's incredible feats of surviving against a dragon attack. There were exaggerations, of course, and different variants of the story with how widespread the gossip had reached, but it all reached the same conclusion at the end.

This new girl had already made her mark as a formidable wizard.

You admired her at first, wanting to know how she did it and what brought on such circumstances. However, there was a slight uncomfortable nagging deep within the depths of your heart at your first meeting. While you felt regretful of such impression despite her kind deportment, you still felt uneasy at the arrival of her presence.

It was probably partly because of Anne's leave of absence since the start of your 5th year. Sebastian was quite privy to the details concerning Anne's sudden absence. You knew she was sick, but other than that, you were quite left in the dark. You convinced yourself that maybe Sebastian feels conflicted when talking about it, and his sudden avoidance of you bringing up the topic proves a testament to that. However, you've seen him and Ominis on the train when you came back after getting refreshments. You've seen Ominis give him a comforting hug—an affection you've barely received from him if there was any at all. You've seen Sebastian tap Ominis to stop talking whenever you enter the room.

People tend to have that misconception that you're awfully unaware of your surroundings due to you being characterized as a 'pushover.' You knew that your bond with Ominis or Sebastian was way different than what they had for each other. You knew it and chose not to dwell too much on the semantics. You'd rather focus on Ominis. On being the person he deserves.

This was solidified when Sebastian began including her in your lunch hangouts.

You were unfortunate enough to be separated from Sebastian and Ominis for your Potions lecture. You had to scour across the castle just to get with them for lunch. They were usually at the same place—lounging around in the Defense against the Dark Arts Tower or the Undercroft.

This time, however, you were finding it quite hard to spot the two.

"Look," Lydia Parkinson, a Ravenclaw from your year, twirls the cup of drink in her hand as she lazily looks up at you due to the lulling atmosphere of the afternoon. "Maybe you could just have lunch with us. Just saying."

Seated beside Lydia is Ren Aries, your potions seatmate (also a Ravenclaw). She has rumored romantic ties with Sebastian, which brought you to their spot in the Great Hall in the first place. Who else would know Ominis's best friend better than you?

Your eyes turn to Ren, who merely rests her chin on her palm propped up by her elbow on the table. "Don't look at me."

"You're basically dating!" You whine, hands grabbing on your books tighter. "Of course, you know where he is."

"No, we're not." Ren answers swiftly.

"Wrong." Lydia raises a breadstick and accusingly points it at Ren.

"Is she talking to you? I don't think so." Ren swats her hand away, causing the breadstick to fly across the table and into a group of first years. The three of you immediately turn your heads, not willing to face the confused glances on their faces.

Just as the first years begin to mind their own business, Lydia begins to lean in with pursed lips. "Well, I might've heard that the two left the Great Hall with the new fifth—"

Suddenly a loud slap intercepts her words. You flinch back at the sudden movement, watching as Lydia rubs her arm as she crumples over the table. Ren sends a glare toward Lydia before turning to you with a half-lidded stare.

"Don't mind her. She's delirious after drinking the pumpkin juice." Ren intercepts easily, not minding her best friend wincing beside her. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"I heard what she said?'

"No you didn't."

"I mean ..." You trailed off, eyes glancing between the two. "I just heard her say the new fifth year."

There's an uncomfortable silence as the two gaze at you with an unreadable stare. Somehow, this gaze seems quite familiar. You've seen it from Imelda, from Anne during your short moments together, and now these two. A budding stem of annoyance begins to grow in your skin.

"Why are you looking at me like that? They're probably just hanging out." You shrug it off like you've always had. It is no use fretting over such simple matters.

"Sure they are—" Lydia chuckles before Ren sends a nudge to her ribs. The redhead merely groans and grabs at the edge of the table. You look at her in concern.

"As I said, delirious." Ren lightly curls the corners of her lips to give you a polite smile. There's a pause of silence before Ren sighs—eyes gazing with an unreadable expression on her face. Your fingers twitch at its familiarity.

"They're in the Undercroft, Y/N." She says, nodding slightly. There's a slight hesitance to her tone of response as if telling you where they were wasn't something she was supposed to be doing. "Sebastian dropped by our table to tell me that, just in case I wanted to join."

Sebastian referred to Ren. Just in case she wanted to join. You wanted to ask if Ominis at least told her to tell you, but you're too much of a coward to do that.

You couldn't will yourself to look at her eyes, afraid that you might finally recognize the emotion that lingers in the depths of her mind. You suppose the inquisitive and empathetic nature of Ravenclaw runs deep within Ren's blood.

You nod as a thanks and left without a word.

You hear laughter first. Your footsteps halt at the archway of the Undercroft—breath faltering as your eyes find the familiar tufts of blonde you've grown to love over the years.

Normally, you would've already bounced over to him, reveling in his attention no matter how negative or neutral it might appear. You would've teased him and wormed your way into his arms.

However, things were quite different from where you were standing.

You hadn't had the opportunity to meet the new 5th year. You only relied on hushed whispers and murmurs across the halls of Hogwarts just to get a glimpse of what she was actually like. You take slow steps towards the source of laughter, eyes trained on their figures—smiles, and gleeful expressions plastered on their faces.

You're caught off guard by the unfamiliar presence of the new fifth year—hair as dark as midnight with a touch of silver strands that decorate the front of her hair like the stars that litter the sky. She's as pretty as they say, as radiant as they whispered about, and evokes the aura of a true born wizard.

However, the true reason for her shock lies in the fact that Ominis—the man she'd known to be stoic, unmoving, and unphased, was laughing. Ominis was laughing.

"Oh, Y/N." It's Sebastian who notices you first. You flinched at the greeting, watching as the other two paused—the new fifth year turning towards you with wide curious eyes, and Ominis subtly turned his head away from you. Your breath hitches at his actions. Sebastian awkwardly glances between the two of you. "I think this is the first time you actually met Nora. Nora, this is Y/N Rosier. Y/N, this is Nora Finley."

Nora waves at you with a smile. "Hi Y/N. Hope you don't mind me intruding."

"None at all." You reply eyes glancing at Ominis who continues to have his back towards you. You decide to continue the conversation. "I was looking for you guys. I thought we were going to have lunch."

"Oh," Sebastian scratches the back of his head, hesitantly glancing at Ominis who continuously remains silent and indifferent. "We already had lunch. Sorry."

You slowly nod in an understanding, a stiff smile plastered on your face.

"That was because you were too hungry to wait," Nora intercepts with joking shove. "Apologies, Y/N. I didn't know they were waiting for someone else."

Your finger twitches slightly at her words. "It's fine."

"I was waiting for Ren! Ominis was just being an asshole." Sebastian defends himself which earns a slap on the arm from Nora. Then, you suddenly hear Ominis speak up.

"Not my fault you were actually coward enough to not go to her yourself," Ominis says. This earns a laugh from Nora who bumps her shoulders against Ominis. "I had to pull you over." The three laugh at the situation at hand, faces plastered with glee and comfort.

So Ominis was there, with Ren and the others. Yet no one thought of telling you where they were. An anxious heavy feeling settles over your chest.

Suddenly, you feel out of place. Your ears ring, zoning out, as their motion becomes more distorted in your eyes. You feel as though you shouldn't be here—that you're the one intruding instead. The ache overwhelms you.

Your feet shuffle a few steps back. "I-I'll get going." You say, voice weak as you announce your departure. Sebastian gives you a moment's glance before nodding. Nora gives you a big wave (you feel bad, she's too much of an angel). However another reason piles onto your aching heart—mind in a daze as it beats fast with anxiety.

Ominis had not once acknowledge your presence.

You leave with your dignity intact.

Seeing Nora is now a regular occurrence.

You didn't mind it at first. You liked the girl. She was a social butterfly, easy to talk to, and her presence brought comfort whenever she was around. You couldn't argue the comfortable nature of Sebastian and Ominis around her. While you were also a generally talkative and social person, it still varied among your peers. Your personality often ventures between the lines of introvert and extrovert—only becoming active to a certain amount of people, and silent to the rest.

However, despite your positive impression on Nora, there was also the case between her and Ominis. You've seen them hanging about in various points of the castle. Even going out together when they leave classes. You haven't had much alone time to spend with Ominis as he somehow begins to become more non-approachable and cold as days pass by. Somehow, he becomes more indifferent than before.

Back then, Ominis indulges in your whims despite his initial opposition. You suppose it's probably to get you to stop, but he had always listened—one way or another. Now, he merely leaves without a word—cutting you off mid-talk and bouncing off to Nora who had just entered the room.

Your heart begins to waver and your breath speeds up. You couldn't deny the hurt that flows through you with each indifferent response of your fiance. Your fiance. He was yours as much as you were his.

So why does it feel like you're the one intruding?

"What do you think we should get Anne, Omi?" You smile, siding up to Ominis whose hands run through the braille engraved on his book. "Do you think we should get her some scented candles?"

"Anne has a sensitive nose." Ominis furrows his eyebrows before slightly tilting his head towards you. "Didn't you know that?"

"I did!" You respond with a defensive tone. Of course, you did. Anne was your friend. "I was going to buy her those simple scented candles. Just to help her with the stress."

Ominis scoffs at your words before going back to reading his book. Just as you inquire a little more about his day, you hear Nora and Sebastian chattering as they reach your spot. You were about to greet them when you felt Ominis nudge your hold away from his arm. You flinch at its intensity as he rises from his seat to walk towards the two—specifically in Nora's direction.

Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, knocking against your ribs like an ache you can't explain. You sit silently, eyes watching as they chatter amongst themselves. The looming realization begins to crawl under your skin, chipping at you—limb from limb. Your breath falters.

"Y/N!" Nora greets like the angel that she is. You smile back, albeit forced and hesitant but welcomed her warmth with open arms. She slides up to you, before calling over the two. They follow with ease. You feel Nora's arm intertwine with yours, thumbing the cloth of your robe.

Just as the two have finally settled down, Nora begins the conversation. "I'm glad you don't have DADA with these two. It's always a chaos."

You nod, still quite perplexed by the whole situation. "Really?"

"Please, Nora." Sebastian teases, arms propped on the table. "Just say you're mad that I beat you at a duel."

"Throwing a ragged cloth to my face before casting a Levioso isn't a win that you think it is." Ominis intercepts with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Blah, blah. Looks like a skill issue to me." Sebastian leans back, arms crossed over his chest. He rolls his eyes playfully. "Life isn't fair on the battlefield, Finley."

Nora turns to you with a scrunched nose. "Are you really friends with these guys?"

You find yourself pausing at her question. Thankfully, she laughs afterward, pulling tease after teasing towards Sallow. The question begins to etch into your brain as your mind conjured every possible interaction you had with Sebastian. Was he even your friend? You remember the silence and the awkward tensions whenever Ominis had to go to the bathroom or get called up by Professor Weasley. Even before then, when Anne was present in your little group of 4, the twins were always stuck to the hip, if not with Ominis. Never the three of you alone together.

Never with you.

You suppose Imelda was right. Blinded by the idea and concept of love through duty, you unintentionally neglected the possible ties that you could've had with the twins. You felt helpless.

"Oh, yeah. Before I forget, what are we getting Anne this weekend?"

Your head turn towards Nora in surprise. "You're coming?"

There's a momentary pause at your question. You wouldn't have minded it before, but now you feel the stares clawing at your skin.

"Of course, she is." Ominis replies with a tone of disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous."

"She hasn't met Anne, though? I don't think—"

"Don't speak for my sister, Y/N." Sebastian cuts through the tension with an offhanded response. You turn towards him in surprise. Nora shifts uncomfortably beside you. "We already planned this. Let's just go with it."

"You didn't tell me anything?" You're not sure as to why your voice suddenly begins to rise. Your hands clench under the table.

"My bad?" Sebastian shakes his head in confusion, as if he's the one incovenienced. "Listen up, next time then? Instead of you know—ogling Ominis, all the time?"

"Sebastian!" Nora calls out, perplexed at the sudden hostility. The brown-haired Slytherin merely turns his head away. A dreadful feeling submerges over your body as you glance at Ominis who sports an indifferent look in his face. There's a paused silence before Sebastian stands from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Nora asks, worried.

"Out. I'm floo-ing to Hogsmeade for the gift. Catch up if you guys want to." Sebastian mumbles in response. He leaves abruptly, robe trailing behind him.

Just as you were about to turn to Ominis, he stands up. "Omi?"

"You should've known better." Ominis mutters. Your breath hitches at his words. He follows through with Sebastian. Your hand clenches into a fist.

"Y/N," Nora grasps at your arm with slight comfort. You couldn't be mad at her even if you wanted to. "Are you okay?"

Your head is lowered, hair framing your face as you try to gather your emotions. You then turn towards her with a smile you've practiced from your childhood days.

"I'm fine."

The silence was unbearable.

You're not sure when was the last time you and Ominis were seated together in a room, alone—much less the receiving room of your manor. You can feel the nervousness clawing up your throat. Your mother had persisted on the two of you visiting the manor during your winter break. You wanted to accept the invitation at first, seeing as this was an opportunity to spend time with Ominis.

But seeing the disdain on his face as soon as you told him the news, somehow regret only fills your body. You had no choice either way.

"Is Hogwarts treating you well?" Your mother sips her tea with the elegance fitting for her role as the matriarch of the house. You shift in your seat, uneasy from her attention.

"Well enough," Ominis answers from your side. His face lacks the enthusiasm of talking to your family.

Your mother furrows her eyebrows at the response but doesn't say anything regardless. "I do hope you're both preparing for your engagement once you graduate in 2 years. Merlin knows how much both of our families have prepared for it."

You nod submissively, unable to resist the pointed stare your mother gives you. Ominis stands abruptly at her words, not opting to pardon himself as he walks out of the room. There's paused silence before your mother scoffs.

"Insolent child," She seethes, taking a sip out of her cup. "If it weren't for his family name and heritage, we would've found you a more suitable heir to marry. Merlin knows his family's treating him like a dispensable asset, when his brother's already married and up to take the role as head of the house."

You sit silently, eyes focused on the untouched cup of tea. Your mother's voice booms through the room, causing you to flinch at its sudden intensity.

"Go after him, Y/N. Beg on your knees if you have to. Keep him tied to the leash before he goes off pawing at others." Your mother orders. "Your sister's a testament to that. Do I make myself clear?"

Your mother's word was law. Everyone in the house knew that. Even your father, who is recognized as the head of the house. She easily controls those around her to do her bidding, and those who resist are met with dire consequences. You'd rather be by her side than against her blade.

"Yes, mother."

You found him by the courtyard.

Your family dog, an Alpine Mastiff that was gifted for your father by a collector of muggle creature, pants against his lap—enjoying the gentle caresses that Ominis runs through his fur. He sits against the huge tree in the middle, the leaves giving his face a gentle shade from the light. You make careful steps before standing in front of him.

"Feeling lethargic, Omi?" You smile. The dog, Xavier, looks up at you with its sleepy eyes before yawning against Ominis's touch.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He replies, eyes devoid of emotion. He merely runs back and forth Xavier's fur as if its stimulation calms his nerves.

"You never allow me to call you anything." You retort, voice calm as you look down at him with a forlorn expression. He doesn't need to know that.

Ominis shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "That's because we're not friends."

You purse your lips before responding. "If you say stuff like that, I'll get hurt, Omi."

Ominis chuckles. "You've bound me to your chains, made me a spectacle with your jokes, and you're worried about getting hurt over the truth?"

You stared at him as he continues to pet the massive dog on his lap. You've gone through this routine before, and you'll go through it again. Why get hurt now?

There's a miniscule pause of silence before you let out a laugh at his words. "So touchy with everything, Omi. You really hate me that much?"

It's a joke. Don't take it to heart.

"Yes," He answers with no hesitation, face devoid of any emotion. He finally looks up and its as if those beautiful cloudy blue eyes could stare through you. "Yes, I do."

It's not true.

You've observed Ominis enough to know what he's thinking.

As much as others regarded him as an intimidating figure, he quite wears his heart on his sleeve. You know when he's angry, when he's joking, being sarcastic, sad, or whatever version of Ominis you're facing for the day. You didn't spend 8 years of your life loving him just for you to not recognize every detail on his face.

You've known him well enough to recognize patterns on his behavior, subtle differences to his emotions, and his current mood of the day. If anything, you're well versed in Ominis's body language, that you've grown well accustomed to how you act around him based on it.

That's why besides you're being hit with two realities, instead of one.

You've watched them from across the hall, chatting up a storm as the three of them were huddled in the corner. You've long since opted to observing them rather than being in the group itself, and ever since then, you've begin noticing things you weren't supposed to.

"What's got you looking so focused there?" Imelda's voice reaches your senses as a figure settles beside you. You give her a glance before looking back at the trio. She hums, following your line of sight. "Looking at your asshole of a lover boy again?"

"Don't I ever?" You sarcastically remark, laughing slightly. Imelda looks at you with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

"Wow," She nods. "That's improvement. You don't make sarcastic remarks when I point out your obsession with white boy over there."

You glance at her, heaving a breath as you contemplated letting Imelda know of your thoughts as of late. You suppose that she's the only person who has been real with you since the start. Everything's been a blur since your visit with Ominis to your manor. You've been trying your hardest to appear normal but things had just gone way off. You've started to distance yourself as well, only responding when asked or talked to—which most of the case is Nora's doing. Though, with Sebastian's constant needs for adventure and Nora's inquisitive nature, she had also lost the attention towards your interaction with the group.

With Ominis, you knew well enough that wherever Nora and Sebastian went, he went to as well. You've seen the three of them flee the Great Hall, not minding your lack of presence to the group. 4 years as a group of friends and 8 years with Ominis, and they haven't had a single thought about you that passed through their minds.

You suppose you should've gotten used to their exclusion to your presence. You're partly aware that this is due to the engagement between you and Ominis, how much he despises the centuries-old tradition of marrying those of the same stature as he is. How much he detests the forced nature of your relationship. You wished you had the power to null it, to start over, and meet him under different circumstances. To dream of a reality where he actually finds love in you, and wishes for a future with you in it.

But alas, life is hard for someone like you. To hold so much authority within your fingertips but be shackled by tradition and generational trauma. You've long accepted your demise.

"Ominis likes Nora." The words slips out of your mouth with ease. Like what you just said was something out of the news. Imelda chokes at what she hears. You look at her with concern.

"E-excuse me?"

"Ominis likes Nora." You repeat calmly. Imelda sweatdrops, moving to stand in front of you as she analyzed your facial expression.

"You're saying that like it's the weather—are you okay?" She asks, worried.

You shrug, eyes looking down at your twiddling thumbs. "It's inevitable. Everyone knows about it, no?"

Imelda pauses, face cringing as she places her hands on her hips. You chuckle at the silent admission. "I'm always a bit too late."

"Look, Y/N," She sighs, taking a step forward as she places a hand on your arm. "Ominis was doomed to be your fiance from the start. He's an asshole and just overall rude! You've got nothing much to lose anyway!"

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip before pulling between your teeth. "I do. That's not how it works, Imelda."

You glance up at her, finally meeting her concerned eyes. She lets out a breath at your forlorn expression.

"I always knew Ominis didn't like what we had. I've spent most of my childhood years with him to not know the familiarity of his disdain." You reply. You recall the times you've received cold and indifferent actions from him. "He's made himself clear. I was always the one who wanted more."

"Y/N," Imelda sighs.

"I don't think Ominis ever considered me to be someone dear to him," You whispered. "I had always been something he easily cast aside. A nuisance—I've seen the way he whispers to Sebastian whenever I've said something they considered out of line. I was never something he deemed important."

Imelda is silent. You heave a sigh.

"He's happy now." You mutter. "Nora's everything I'm not, and even if I wanted to hate her, despise her—she's so pure and likeable that it's so unfair. Why is it so unfair?"

You feel tears well in your eyes. Imelda's breath hitches at the sight. She looks around, trying to see if anyone was watching. She then hears the familiar voices of the three. Soon enough she sees them walking over to pass by their area. Imelda did what she could only think of.

She pulls her off her robe before throwing it over your head, shielding you from their stares. She pulls you in her arms as the three near towards you. You couldn't see a thing but you could hear them.

"... Imelda?" Sebastian's voice comes out as confused, probably because of her hooded figure. "What's up?"

"Hey!" Imelda smiles, hands making gentle pats to your back. "Friend's not feeling well. Hope you don't mind."

There's pause of silence before Ominis responds. You feel your heart speed up. "Ah, hope they'll feel better."

"They hear that quite well!" Imelda responds with enthusiasm. You slump against her hold, feeling lethargic from thinking.

"Alright, we'll get going." Sebastian waves before the two follow them off. Just as the three of them began to make their way down the hall, you hear Nora suddenly backtrack.

"Ah, by the way, if you do see Y/N around, tell her that Professor Weasley's asking for her?" Nora says. Your body freezes and its as if Imelda had felt it as she had pulled you closer.

"S-sure." Imelda responds. The three of them began to go on their way, chatting and laughing as they disappear down the hall.

Imelda finally pulls her robe off you, eyes filled with concern. "Y/N ..."

"They knew I wasn't around," You mumble, breath trembling, and eyes devoid of emotion. "They knew. He knew."

Imelda raises a hand to fix your hair before smiling. "There's nothing much I can say that will be of help, but I do hope that you'll take care of yourself—Of what you'll do from here on out."

You pause at her words before nodding silently.

The realization settles in and its heartbreaking and grueling. However, despite that, things haven't been much clearer than before. You'll set things right. For him. For yourself.

Because love is your greatest weakness, no? Your greatest threat. Love for him, and love for your family.

Whichever will prevail?

A/N: before yall ask, yes this will have a part 2 ... i just really wanted to finish this and it went beyond what ive planned. stay tuned mwehe!!! this will not have a happy ending btw. the title daffodil's camellia is in reference to their meaning in love. daffodil can mean new beginnings but it can also mean unrequited love, camellia means romantic love or devotion. just wanted to let yall know that!

[majoryeager104]

I NEED MORE TOUYA HEADCANNONS PLEASEEEEEEEEW

AHHH OK IM ON IT RN HERE U GO <3

Summary: Touya random hcs w and w/o s/o

Warnings: Language, Touya being too precious for this realm

He definitely has a teddy bear from childhood that he stole from the house after he woke up from his coma

It has a few little burn marks on it, but he thinks that gives it character

Can’t fall asleep without it 

Unless he has you, but still

That teddy bear is always within arms reach when he’s trying to sleep

One time Toga found it when she snuck into his room for a jacket cos she was cold

She’s been sworn to secrecy (he threatened to burn up her cardigan collection)

The first time you slept in his room, you asked about it

At first he was defensive

Like “yeah it’s mine tf u gonna do about it”

But then one day he walked in to see you asleep on his bed

Cuddling his teddy bear

He coulda died then and there

Definitely one of the very few pictures he has on his phone

Because he’s barely on that thing

It’s probably not the first one he’s had

I bet he accidentally burns them up on missions

So he just never takes it with him anywhere

Which always scares the shit out of you

Bc what’s the point of having it otherwise

You didn’t get it till he showed you all the pictures he had of you on there, and you realized he just didn’t want to lose them

Bc it’s a burner phone, so he doesn’t use it for much else

He has another phone for work, but that’s the one he keeps for pictures of you

And all the videos and memes you send him

He looks at them like a week after you send them

Yes he’s one of those 🧍

But he does look at every single one 

You make him playlists too, and he DEFINITELY listens to those

Bc he’s music addicted (might be a bit of projection hehe)

But yeah

It’s just a whole phone he keeps just for you

He wants those videos, memes, playlists, and cute photos of you bc he’s scared that one day he won’t have you anymore

But he’d never say any of that out loud

Even though he knows you’d understand 

Bc he’s scared 

Moving on before I cry 

He’d like Taylor Swift 

Hear me out guys

The emotional lyrics? The topic of betrayal? The style? The vibe? He’d love it. (Secretly ofc)

He’s literally “who’s afraid of little old me”

Like I can see him singing “The smallest man who ever lived” while crying in the car

“WERE YOU SENT BY SOMEONE 😭😭😭WHO WANTED ME DEAAD”

He’d secretly adore her country eras too

And you may or may not have dragged him to the Eras tour

And he may or may not have secretly been looking forward to it

He wore all black (he’s literally reputation) and ended up with a shit ton of friendship bracelets by the end of the night

He still has them

Tucked away in a drawer 

never to be seen by anyone else

But you ofc because the two of you trade

Moving on tho hehe

He’d be either a heavy af sleeper, or a light af sleeper

No in between

Like hes either not moving or he’s not sleeping. 

Maybe both

He probably watches you sleep when he can’t though

And if you have a nightmare he’d wake you up and get you water

And if he had a nightmare, he’d either wake up in a panic and just lay on top of you

Or you’d wake him up, and he’d still lay on top of you

You’re his personal pillow now

But he’s your heating pad 

So it’s fair. 

(He’s also this song tbh lmaooo and all the songs I mentioned are from TTPD but that’s because the album is so Touya coded ughhh 😭😭😭)

[cupiohearts]

CANT CATCH ME NOW ?! - leaving them behind

they see you everywhere. james, jonggun, joongoo. they find bits and pieces of you lying around in their pockets, their houses and memories. it depends on which one it is which scene they see you in.

DG VER. gun ver. goo ver.

for james, he sees the sight of you in the crowd when he first started as an idol. he catches himself hoping for a glimpse of you in crowds as he did before. maybe you just show up at one of his concerts one day. he knows its a childish hope to think you'll come back. especially not when theyve all pushed you out of their lives.

but was it such a hopeless thought to have? a particulary fond memory of seeing you in the front row at barricade. hopping down and singing his lyrics to your face. fans thought you were just a really lucky person to catch the attention of DG, minimizing it to a harmless fan interaction moment just for the concert.

he loved the way your eyes twinkled underneath the stage light illuminating your face in a mesmerizing glow. he recalled the heartbreak when they were all gathered up at your apartment.

it had become a haunting memory of seeing the house abandoned. the only thing left was a small ragged old scarf you insisted on keeping

"yknow! one day for my super awesome snowman! ive been waiting for winter to come in korea so snow is finally here!" you tell him with a giddy grin at the mall. your loose baby strands around your face and your face bare with nothing on it standing out to him.

you always mentioned you wanted to experience the snow. you said you didnt have it where you were from. far too sunny for that you said.

"you wont have to wait long. it get cold fast in korea" he tells you. chuckling as you hold the scarf in your hand while picking out more winter items.

how unfortunate. it was snowing right now. he wondered where youve gone. maybe youve died off, its better for him that way. that way he wont have to think about whether or not youve settled down yet. maybe gone back to your old country or somewhere new.

maybe youre out on a date somewhere, possibly 6 feet down in a ditch. his mind wanders when it comes to you.

reading the note you left behind for him. written in a sparkly pen you always used.

"why do you have so many pens and only use one?!" he questions you with a raised eyebrow. his long fingers unzipping your pencil pouch and looking through all the pens you own.

"you cant expect me to use all of them. plus my papers look sparkly this way and its cute. the design is cute and i like how it writes!" you chirp at him. turning behind you and hitting his forehead with your pen. "red hair... i like you with your curly red hair. reminds me of someone i used to know" you tell him.

curling his hair around your pen before dropping it when you hear the teacher say your name and turning back to the board. your hair whipping him in the face "im innocent!" you joke with your hands raised causing the class to laugh.

you tell him youre sorry in the note. that you couldnt handle it anymore.

you tell him everything but telling him nothing at the same time. telling him of how you felt like everyone else was moving while you were stuck in the present. everyone was special and you were not.

he let the paper drop down after skimming the rest of its contents. he wished to just crumple it up and tossed it away. he couldn't.

he knew he was being selfish wanting you back when youve clearly stated in the note this was out of youre pure will, leaving them behind. he wouldve cried. he wouldve cried if he was james lee.

all he could do was pick it back up and meet back with gun, and goo.

it was gonna all be in one set page but i found that it was longer than most of my other projects if i actually completed this whole

so i broke it up

like the friend group

ha

i caught up with lookism

i like the new pretty boys :3

ALSO QLSO I HAD AN ENTIRLY SEPRATE DOCUMENT FROM THIS AND I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED MY UNFINISHED STUFF BC I ACCIDETNALY POSTED IT INSTEAD OF COICKING DRAFT SO I HAD TO COPY AND PASTE ALL OF THIS PARAGRAPH BY PARAGRAPH TO THIS PAGE THINGY BC IM ON THE PHONE TYPING ALL PF US THIS SO A+ FOR WFFORT

did not proof read (bc im insecure abt my works 😔🤞)

[autisticandroids]

Hi this is random but i was thinking about how compelling and bluntly accurate ur analysis of spn relationships are- i was curious if u migjt be willing to talk a little on how u see the relationship between sam and cas? When u talk about them im passing the abiding sense i get is that the defining element of their dynamic in ur eyes is miscommunication. Or maybe im just projecting cus what i see is two ppl who should be able to be in community in a meaningful sense- 2 ppl who are naturally rebellious, curious, and empathetic and who have those foundational traits slowly and agonizingly beaten out of them by their circumstances. And one element of that is the dean of it all. They are both deans closest companion one way or another- they should be able to relate to eachother and support one another when dean (affectionate) starts acting out of pocket. But! They! Dont!!!! But yeah what is the good of their relationship and what is the bad? Like not merely in how they interrelate w eachother and dean (altho he is of course inextricable from their relationship since he is the vector of connection) but like. Their specific dynamic. Whats up w that in ur beautiful mind

took me a while to answer bc i was looking for Posts. and here they are. these posts function as background and history of my pov even though i don't necessarily even still endorse every part of all of them. but i think they're an interesting jumping off point for an interested reader.

hey!!! this is a fun one to me. so fundamentally the sam-cas dynamic, to me, is about how solidarity is just not... possible between them.

well that's not exactly true. after season nine, it's about how solidarity is not possible between them. before then i haven't thought about it as much because to me that, carver era, eight through ten, is when cas kind of takes his place in the family dynamic, vs. just being an ally who mostly has his own shit going. i don't really have thoughts about pre-s9 sam and cas. there are a lot of ways you could read them but in the end i just don't think that relationship is as important before cas basically comes in from the cold in carver era.

anyway the thing that happens in season nine is, well. the gadreel thing. and its consequences.

so. in 9x01 dean makes a choice. and the thing about what dean does, in 9x01, is, well. it's kind of a perfect saw trap, isn't it. it's wrong. dean knows it's wrong. but how could he make any other choice? how could dean winchester ever have made any other choice? this is his prime directive. watch out for sammy. look out for your little brother, boy. but see, normally, when dean does shitty things, he thinks he's in the right. in this moment, he knows he isn't. he's spiraling.

so he makes it worse. he doesn't just let gadreel in. he lets gadreel talk him into actively gaslighting sam and fucking with his head. and he also starts wrecking other people's lives. he's nasty to kevin (not that that's much of a change, but i think in s9 he's worse), and more unusually, he doesn't seem to give a damn whether cas lives or dies. he kicks him out, of course, but he also abandons him on the street with no resources or recourse, because he's so tied up in knots over what he's done to sam. cas could have died. he nearly does. he gives himself an angel terminal illness trying to escape.

and then when cas comes back to the bunker, he's grateful that dean wants him around again. which, you know, it makes sense. but dean also learns something from this. he doesn't want to, he never needed to know, but he learns something:

he learns that no matter how hard he kicks cas, cas will always come back.

this isn't good for him to know! he doesn't want to know! but he knows it now. and it becomes relevant to how he treats sam and cas, because sam will not tolerate that.

and the thing is this makes sense. for both sam and cas. obviously in terms of personality sam has more self outside of dean and more self-respect and when given the choice between freedom or love, he tends to choose freedom, which is the opposite for cas. like cas is fundamentally, well, a lot more similar to dean in that regard. but also: dean has just actively hurt sam, motivated by affection. he has just passively hurt cas by withdrawing his affection (and therefore his material support). of course sam responds by rejecting dean's affection and cas responds by desperately seeking it. we're rewriting the winchesters' childhoods here in miniature.

anyway. dean already had a habit of playing them off against each other in season eight. when he wasn't mad at cas, he would say to sam "cas wouldn't hurt me like this" when sam didn't do what he wanted. when he wasn't mad at sam he would tell cas the opposite. when he was mad at both, the favorite was benny.

but this takes on a different tone in season nine. because this duality has finally crystalized, freezing cas as the good one and sam as the bad one, because cas just doesn't get mad at him anymore no matter what he does.

so of course first you have road trip and first born. where cas immediately forgives dean for all that. then conspires with him to overcome sam's anger and resistance. cas is the one in first born saying sammmmm you should forgive deannnn cmaaaaahhhn.

and then in stairway to heaven you have dean viciously lashing out at cas basically just to punish sam for questioning him. like the whole episode is basically motivated by sam pointing to the blade and being like maybe you should be using that thing so much...... and dean being like FUCK you. so he goes and intentionally sabotages cas' whole thing with the angels that he had been building for months and then cas of course immediately forgives him. and this little piece of theater basically exists entirely for sam's benefit, to say hey, look how much i can hurt him and HE won't stay mad at me. because of course dean is deeply wounded by the fact that sam won't forgive him for the gadreel thing.

and to me that basically defines their relationship going forward. sam has a choice here: he can hate cas, or he can believe cas is too stupid/unable to see things straight/lovestruck/other thing that basically means stupid to know better. imo he chooses option b. cas doesn't really have a choice - his world narrows, understandably, to desperately trying to maintain dean's approval. he becomes much more devoted to dean in the later seasons, partly because he basically loses everything outside dean - stairway to heaven was basically his last chance at anything outside the winchesters being a meaningful connection for him, and he and dean ruined it together, and partly because the whole being homeless for months thing was very traumatizing and left him with a need to stay in dean's good graces for his own survival.

so fundamentally i think because of all this, what matters about sam and cas is that solidarity between them is impossible. sam can never trust cas and cas can never prioritize sam. because of dean. that relationship is not on any level passing the bechdean test.

[jubburb]

》 "MENTAL WORKOUTS AT 4:00 A.M."

• @jubburb

ask: none.

synopsis: quizzing your boyfriend at the ripe hour of 4 am about genshin

a/n: idk but this kinda feels more like a fic where i'm shipping myself with albedo, bc I put all the answers to the questions as my answers irl. So if you don't have the same answers as me, just imagine your own answers in place of that, pls ♡

warnings: ooc albedo (probably), sweet bf albedo cuz I can write albedo however I fartin want, pretty short fic, not proofread (mistakes are definitely there, I'll proofread it tmr, prob)

notes: albedo is :, you are :

You watched depressingly as your earbuds die right in front of you, ultimately stopping your music and leaving you sad with the loud ringing of silence.

So now, with nothing else to do, you pull up Discord on your phone and immediately search for your boyfriend's username on the Messages bar.

Once you find it, you click on it and notice that he's online.. at 4 in the morning. But that's the least of your worries. He's texted you at the ungodly hours of 12 A.M a couple of nights ago anyway.

-

[3:59 A.M.]

: Albedo r u awake

: Albedo albedo albedo albedooo

: Albedo I can see that you're online.

: ANSWERRRR MEEEEE

You start intensely spamming your boyfriend, before he finally answers.

: Yes? What's the matter? Shouldn't you be asleep right now? We have school today, Y/N.

You smile softly, getting more comfortable in the cold duvet of your bed before typing again, the pads of your fingers tapping against the screen.

: I could ask u the same thing albedo

: why aren't you sleeping

You question, even though his answer would probably be along the lines of "Doing an experiment."

: I'm quite busy. Though I asked questions first. Why aren't you asleep?

: i just couldn't fall asleep ig

: what are u busy doing?

: I'm awake finishing my art project. What are you doing?

: well I WASS listening to music, cuz that usually helps me fall asleep but my earbuds died so..

: Oh, how unfortunate.

: that sounds sarcastic.

: you're so rude albedo.

: Im sorry. Will a picture of Redo make it better?

You click on the image attachment Albedo sent. It was a picture of his cat, Redo, curled up in a circle right next to him, his little white paws holding onto his fluffy black tail.

: yes, it made everything better.

: That's good. Now, I should probably focus on the project, so expect my answers to be a bit late.

: kk, I'll leave u alone for a bit and scroll on tiktok.

Albedo just responded with a little thumbs up emoji, and you smile softly at that.

You exit out of Discord and scroll through all the random apps before you find Tiktok, and then you spend a couple of minutes mindlessly scrolling on your for you page, before you stumble across one of your mutuals doing a cute trend on their boyfriend.

The trend was pretty simple. It was just quizzing your boyfriend or girlfriend to see how well they knew them by asking them questions revolving around their favorite games.

You quickly exit out of Tiktok, finding the little blue app called Discord again, and started texting your beloved blondie once again.

: ohh albedooooo~

True to his words, Albedo took a couple more minutes to respond, but he did in the end.

: Yes, my petal?

You smile again, your cheeks a slight tinge of light pink at the nickname and start typing again.

: what is my favorite genshin element?

: Hm? Why are you asking? Well, either way, it's Geo, obviously.

: what's my favorite character from each region?

: You have me doing a mental workout this early in the morning.. Your favorite Mondstadt character is Diluc, in Liyue it's Zhongli, for Inazuma it's Raiden Shogun and for Sumeru it's Collei, for Fontaine it's Neuvillette, and for Natlan it's Xilonen.

: who's my favorite archon?

: Simple, Morax.

: what's my favorite elemental reaction?

: Freeze, because you like immobolizing your enemies and being able to beat them easily.

: who am I saving up for?

: Mm. You always impulse spend your primogems on every banner, but you always talk about how much you want Raiden Shogun C2, Itto, and Xilonen.

: Can I go back to my art project now?

: no. how many primos do I have saved up for these characters?

: 176. You better hope that luck comes your way and you get the character you want with a simple one pull.

: how much mora do I have?

: Last time I was on your account.. you had about 3 million, so unless that number has changed, my answer is 3 million mora. Which you could double if you actually agreed to do the Ley Lines with me.

: mkayy mkayy I have a couple more questions.

: And by a couple do you mean you'll keep asking me questions until it's time to get ready for school?

: no, seriously, I'm running out of questions to ask.

: Ah. Continue then.

: who do I hate most in genshin?

: This one is easy. Dottore. You despise that man with every bone in your body, I'm sure. You'd want to punch him through a wall, right? I won't blame you. He's a despicable human being.

: youre so right. what BP level am I on?

: Level 6, you completely ignore it, unless it gives you Fates.

: and finallyyy would you take care of my account if I died?

: Oh, definitely. I would treat it like a precious artifact. But I hope to the Archons that wouldn't ever have to be the case.

: awh, I love you 'bedo.

: I love you too, my petal. May I continue working on my project now?

: yes yes yes u can, I'll sleep for like 4 more hours before I have to start getting ready for school..

: Alright, sweet dreams, my love.

: sweet dreams, bedoo~

[4:26 A.M.]

With that, you simply exit out of Discord, feeling excited that your boyfriend cares enough to know everything about you and to keep what you tell him stored away in his noggin.

You plug your phone into the charger, and your head hits the cold pillow with a nice and relaxing thud, before drifting off into dreamland for a couple hours more, dreaming of your a familiar blonde braided Dragonspinian.

- signed by c

[desire-mona]

abed headcanons because im autistic and bitches be projecting

big fan of deep pressure, has a weighted blanket but ideally someones putting all their body weight on top of him

can drive but hates it because its FUCKING BORIIIIINNNGGG

doesn't have a very expansive music taste, when he likes a song he listens to it on loop for weeks

has received the same novelty popcorn bucket as a gift 10+ times bc his relatives have no idea what to give him and just google "gifts for movie lovers"

britta offered him an edible one (1) total time and he got so overstimulated he passed out and slept for 15 hours

has ARFID and there's a list of his safe foods on the fridge in the trobedison apartment

has very sweaty hands. like if you high five him it'll splash. troy is used to it (cuz they hold hands) but if anyone else finds out theyre like AH OH GOD WHAT THE FUCK WHY ARE YOU DAMP

either loves or hates scott pilgrim vs. the world. i cant decide so neither can he.

reads the books that have movie adaptations bc dedication but doesn't have a great time

has a head jerk tic when he's cold (i have this too its very annoying)

"troy and abed in the mooooornin" vocal stim at random times

FFFFFUCKING LOVED trick or treating as a kid cuz the interactions were so cut and dry. "trick or treat" and "thank you". Perfect.

nobody is ever allowed to touch his feet. ever. under any circumstances.

lucid dreams basically every night but thinks thats just what Normal Dreaming is

got along very well with his teachers. "delight to have in class" energy

#1 sherpa hater, the most evil texture

always bites his nails bc the thought of long nails makes him wanna throw up

hate hate hates the smell of drool or saliva in general

compulsive hand washer, especially after touching a bad texture

has glasses but doesn't wear them. the feeling of anything on his face is Not Good

in the same vein, has a love hate relationship with headphones cuz they hurt his ears after a while

gets viscerally angry when someone says male gaze/ female gaze in reference to a real person. its a film term!!

has been told on many occasions that he has a "nice podcasting voice"

often pirates new movies because movie theatres are a nightmare but he will Pass Away if he hears spoilers

hhhhhhHHHHHAAAAAAATES opening gifts at parties cuz he has no idea how to react

shaves his legs bc if he feels hair against his pants he Will have a breakdown

wore the same pyjamas Every Single Night for a year as a kid

was a shorts year round kid in middle school

probably nonbinary but thats neither here nor there

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

LUX!!!!

(ncuti voice)lets go lets go lets go lets go let's go

first some hot takes from trailers:

hot take 1: im a bit side eyeing this ep in advance bc much like the eurovision special coming up it feels 5 years behind from the zeitgeist. in these days when fanservice and high-concept tv is so common this kinda gimmick, by itself, is just Not That Bold

hot take 2: im not a fan of how bad wolf does coloring tbh. so much teal and copper. egh. i had this problem with HDM too actually. some very beautiful production design but imo marred many times by a muddied, artificial color palette... (last ep was terrible with this imo. the props were so gorgeous but those colors… oof)

ok onto the episode proper

this kind "ironic" 50s aesthetic does nothing for me. sorry fallout fans.

got fooled a lot by the last eps so im trying to freeze frame more this time kdlfjs

TV SHOW GANG LOOK WE'RE OPENING WITH A LITERAL PROJECTION AGAIN. why are we winning literally all the time

"and the world must ask, is this the pinnacle of man's creative genius?" master energy

francis ringer?

shouldn't this kind of style 20s be in black and white? color cartoons are more 40s-50s

IT'S ALL FIFTEEEN

"you came back, i had faith, and you came back"

"according to the laws of the light, sunlight doesnt suit us" oof

i know it's not

"LIMITED RUN ONLY" triggered TOT

"and technically it's puppets that want to be boys, not cartoons" screaming

they did a good job with the "coming out of the screen" effect

"and whatever you do dont make me laugh" stop trying to make blink happen its not gonna happen

love a "under the hood repair" scene <3

MUSIC!!!!!

"planet timelordia" "i wish it was called that :/" im in love

he asks if she's got a girlfriend first sdklfjd doctor who has a Type

"maybe not today"

the orange / yellow / cream of their outfits contrasts rlly well with the grey and blue

london regency orchestra!!!

"he loves grabbind the microphane" sdklfjsd "i would really, really like to see them again" us too!!

TAKE ME BACK TO HEATTHROW AIRPORT!!!!! im so living ya'll -" vindicator" i love.also she's so unfazed lskdfjd (which i love too)

(i can sense this is gonna be an episode with a lot of Food bc it's been 5 minutes and i've already paused so many times kldfj)

15 so happy to be seducing her dslfkjsdlkfj

OUTFITS!!!!!! ROLL OVER BETHOVEN MY BELOVED!!! LIGHTS!!!! /my toxic trait is i love doccy ho 2 much

"at 4am. we got dressed up for no one to see"

"this time travel thing is so strange because… we know what happens to him. poor soul" belinda idk your last name but im in love with u

also this Feels like it's gonna be a theme… good ol' pompoeii stories coming up

this is such a tenth move lmao ";;;) heyyy i can take u home but looook…. first i need to take off my tie…… and also let's visit shakespeare ;;;) but i promise it's all Necessary"

"like they are locking up a wild beast" i wonder if this is the kind of ep that would be stronger without a cold open that tells us already the awnser to the mystery sdlkfj

"we can go now :)))))))))) pls"

batista namedrop

oh yeah… racism :/

"i have toppled worlds, sometimes i wait for people to topple their world. until then, i live in it i and i shine ;)" this is the kinda energy i wanna bring to my family dinners

(ok BUT this is such a Meaningful line that says sm about the doctor and fifteen's arc and the lore and even torchwood CoE but i kinda want to focus on the ep sdklfsadjs le'ts just put it in a lil' box to unpack later)

"he liked those tales of outer space" "did he?"

"i will sit and wait for that boy forever"

"it says "police box"" "does that give you hope?"

hope can change the world / and then the hand holding In the context of the segregation … hits different

"C'MON VELMA" "OK FRED" iconic

"i know this is a segregated space…but we just… we wanted to say…. (beat)… hello"

"and this is……. the doctor?????(right, just the doctor???? …um always?? :///" "yeah" "ridiculous…." wtf i love her so much

"is someone tap dancing at us?"

"you're not celluloid, you're made of light, light come to life"

"i wish i knew. i'm all alone. ain't nobody else in this whole wide world like me. does nobody care about mr. ring a ding?" "you've got your own soundtrack" "15 people went missing" "" I LOVE A MIRROR!!!! I LOVE A FOIL!!! (eats my entire hat)

ALSO THEY CAN HEAR THE SOUNDTRACK!!!!!!!

"because it sounds like this…" YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GO

asdkjasd lk we saw that harbinger cinema image set pic literally LAST series and i still got totally SHOCKED i tell you SHOCKED when this happened…. i love doccy ho

this whole pantheon insanity is so underrated tbh. fandom is gonna take A While to see the Brilliance just like with the timeless children.

this era has so much wordplay… so Intentionally… (cause IT'S A TV SHOW) when we get to the god of narrative things are gonna get So Insane…

"dangabbit, i've got no choice!" i love a mirror

"because if that thing is real, then so is she" oh i love this theme!! dreams are real 2 us.. fav trope.

"i should have never

"it's all a game to them. but the games are deadly" mirror mirror mirror mirror

"there are forces beyond this universe. and we think we're so clever. but we're like children. and when these forces deign to look down on us, our entire reality is in danger" this dialogues So well with Time vs 13 in flux

15 people …………

"he's trapped them in film" idiot's lantern coded!!!

'CAUSE YOU KNOW HOW FLAMMABLE OLD FILM IS. doctor who fans everywhere TRIGGERED

(the flashbacks to the previous episodes is a bit hoockey sdkflj)

belinda's expressions are Doing A Lot in this part

"those 15 people, you can let them go" "i've immortalized them on film!" ohh so meta

(this ep is Exciting in energy but i worry it's been half the runtime and Not A Lot has happened skldfj. like last ep altho things moved fast, and i can tell rtd is taking A Lot of exposition shortcuts, it still feels like most of the story has been setup rather than proper story, you know?)

"i've got a two dimensional brain" ok this is a good gag but: probably unpopular opinion: i hate how this whole episode is undermining old school classic cartoons tho :/// bro maybe the 60s hannah barbera schlop was bland like this, but there's actually a lot of character and gravitas to the warner brothers 40s-50s stuff (and even some of the disney stuff, esp the classics like bambi). and i rlly disagree with the implication of this medium-narrative that "current" cartoons are automatically better artistically because they've follownig some rules and formulas of """"sophisticated""" tv… it's just very myopic of the genre and how in taters it actually is today. esp bc execs have prioritized $$$ over craftsmanship and all you get in theatres is 3d sclhop (that is no, not actually more "depth" just bc it follows the """Pixar Principles""", it's as cooperative and sanitized in ways classic cartoons never were)

anyway DKFLJSDKLJF sorry for the rant. putting THAT aside. …. how telling that even this "more" depth moment the doctor isnt telling the whole truth (that he's trying 2 seduce belinda so she stays with him bc he can't be with himself).

huggg

"we've been framed" eyyy

lol they really couldn't afford more of the animated sequences could they

"i dont know how things are done in the caribbean" sdfkj

"he offered to help you!" oof. oof. dot and bubble motif.

"scrolling up and down does not work"

(i waved at them like a dork sdklfjds embarrassing)

this has SUCH send in the clones energy lol they even have 3 fans!!!

hashtag glee hates women

the hugggggggg TOT the dream!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THATS THE LITERAL DREAM

(bro that's a sick poster of the slugs from dot and bubble)

"blink" rolls eyes. judging these 3 guys' taste so much lol

(imagine saying that when 73 yards exists!!)

"yeah. but what does he not do?" "we don't know, tell us" "we can't!" "GOD YOU'RE SO ANNOYING" im loving this lol WE ARE ACTUALLY - lots of people say that" god bless

"we're the sort of characters who don't have surnames"

TIME FOR THE THIRD ACT

this is going down so hard wtf?? also the "illusions are real to us" my BELOVED trope <3 "you mean… you'll die?" "it's not death. we just end." "but… that is death" "yeah. but we're not important. it doesnt matter what happen to us" wtf im crying "it's been so worth it just to meet you" "and thanks to you i met my two best friends" ahh classic fandom beat

ok but: this scene gets me so much because i've always connected a lot with the "dreams / stories are Real to Us" theme, as i've said before in this post… first because they validate us daydreamers and ppl who need to escape the harshness of reality… and second bc that kind of theme rlly brings forth how deeply some of us can connect to fictional characters. and how real that can feel at times. it honors those (parasocial lol) relationships. BUT this episode i think brought it to a new level because it connected it to the "we're all stories in the end" theme. once we die, we're all eventually forgotten. and it's like a kind of second death. but it brings some comfort to us to think that we'll be remembered in our legacies and in the memories of people. (like how ppl connect with historical characters). it's kind of a way to "beat death" that's just, so human. y'know?

"then we might live on just a little bit" don't worry we'll write fanfic for ya'll!!!

(cheers to rtd bc he managed to do something new with a thing that's Been Done Before in xen,a supernatural, buffy, etc slkdfj)

(also these 3 guys had the sickest merch damnn)

hug!!!!!!

"or burns us to death :D"

the directing going off in this bit

"doctors always make the worst of patients, but trust me, i know what im doing"

"my hospital could do with you"

"you have light within you that builds a body" eyes emoji. children of time arc keeps going girlllls

i love how into the nuclear explosions the gods are lol

3d "liveaction" remake of my 2d cartoons be-loathed.

HE'S BURNING THE FILM. classic fans TRIGGERED

(this mechanic feels off tho sdklfj it feels like the doctor should have More energy than the sun… and going by rings of akhaten, more Potential Energy as well…. but ok whatever sdkfjsd )

"i am everything and i am nothing" oh this is such a good beat to literally '34934 times we've seen characters Ascend Cosmologically on this show sldkfj enlightenment means death in dw

"infinite. invisible. intangible.""amen"

this was exciting but what i feel is lacking in this season+special is for the characters of the day to be more interesting...… like yay for tommy lee's mom and the projector guy but i dont really Care that much sdklfjds. they feel too much like beats we've seen a thousand times, and work more on that level, rather than as specific new stories being told.

i disagree with lizzie im gonna give it a 10/10 just for sheer energy alone. and altho a bit short on time and with underdeveloped characters,... itdid get me to think about my own mortality. what more can u ask for our own fav scifi family show ?

that said after a lot of meta and self-referencing im glad we're going back to a straight forward base under siege dsfsdklfj pls pls next week have a good interesting crew that i can actually mourn once they bite the dust...

also i want more development and focus on belinda pls.

[vmddrawing]

A Tether to Salvation

Fanfiction: Leon S. Kennedy (Vendetta) x Reader

just a heads up: gonna post some chapters of my leon x reader fic here <3

it’s soft. it’s slow burn. it’s me projecting through emotional damage and quiet glances. no smut (yet?) bc i write like a shy victorian maiden with a crush

also pls don’t judge i’m just a girl emotionally attached to a fictional man and doing her best

full thing’s on wattpad. 10k words and english is not my first laungage..(it's short im sorry)

Should I post more here?

Description: Leon S. Kennedy and a stoic yet enigmatic partner are thrust together by the demands of the DSO. Both burdened by their painful pasts, they navigate a treacherous world of loss, duty, and inner demons. As their reluctant partnership deepens, each begins to see the possibility of healing and redemption in the other—a connection that challenges their hardened exteriors and reawakens a hope long thought lost.

Act 1: Heads

Chapter 1

The DSO needed Leon back on his feet. He was one of their best—an agent who had done the impossible too many times to count. But now, he was slipping, drowning in the ghosts of his past with nothing but a bottle to keep him afloat. They couldn't afford to lose him.

—So, they sent her.

She was a tragedy wrapped in flesh, a victor in a game she was never meant to win. The black-market project that shaped her had demanded sacrifices, but she had cheated the system, and in return, it had taken everything—everyone—from her. A punishment for defying fate. When the DSO found her, she was hollow, burning with a single, unyielding desire. Revenge. They fed that fire, molded her into something useful only to be watered down by misfortune to the person she was now.

But why her —

Because she was like Leon. Broken. Wounded. Haunted. But where he drowned in sorrow, she thirsted for salvation—not for herself, but for someone else. She had lost too many, seen too much, failed in ways that still clawed at her when she closed her eyes. She couldn't save them. But maybe, just maybe, she could save him. The DSO knew. They always knew.

Some wounds fester alone. Others can only heal when met with another broken soul. Leon and her? They were fractures of the same story. A tragedy rewritten in different ink. Two faces of the same coin.

And so, they sent her.

Because if anyone could pull him from the abyss, it was the one person who had been waiting all her life to save someone.

Leon’s tired eyes narrowed as he studied her. For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and unyielding. He took her in—the way she carried herself, the set of her shoulders, the quiet tension in her stance. Not just her height or her build, but the subtleties, the tells. A trained eye caught everything.

Then, with a dry, scoffing laugh, he turned away, fingers curling around the shot glass before he downed whatever poison lingered at the bottom. It burned, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

“They sent you, huh?”

She didn’t react. Didn’t flinch.

Truth was, she had no idea who he was. Not really. Names and reputations only carried so much weight in the eyes of the broken. But what neither of them knew was that this moment—the quiet, indifferent crossing of their paths—was the start of fate shifting once more. And this time, for once, it would tilt in their favor.

Leon’s gaze flicked back to her, sharp and cold, cutting through the dim light like a blade. He inspected her, dissected her, as if searching for something. A reason. A flaw.

Then, suddenly, his voice cut through the air once more.

“Take a seat.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. She moved without hesitation, silent, her gaze as empty as his. If there was a soul behind those eyes, it was buried too deep to be found.

“From now on,” she murmured, lowering herself into the chair across from him, “we’ll be working together.”

And just like that, two ghosts sat face to face, unaware they had just become each other’s tether to something they had long since forgotten—the possibility of salvation.

Leon raises a brow in surprise, but his expression remains stoic.

“Working together?” He questions, an edge to his voice. “And who are you to give me orders?”

“I don’t.” Her voice was flat, emotionless. A statement of fact, not defiance.

She reached into her jacket, pulling out the official order. A neatly folded page—crisp, impersonal, absolute. She handed it to him without hesitation. Chris Redfield’s name was stamped at the bottom, the weight of it heavy enough to crush any argument before it began. They both knew Leon wouldn’t jeopardize his friend’s position by outright rebellion.

Leon’s expression hardened as he took the paper, his fingers tightening around it, knuckles paling. His sharp gaze scanned the words, though he already knew what they would say. Knew the inevitability of it all. He was self-aware, he knew who he was—his worth as an ‘asset’ to the DSO—at his current state, he was inoperable.

His eyes flicked back to her, colder now.

“And what? they expect me to just play nice with you?” he spat, the words curling with disdain, sharp like a knife’s edge.

She didn’t react. Didn’t waver. Just met his anger with the same unwavering emptiness she had walked in with.

“That’s up to you.” She responded flatly.

Her gaze drifted, sweeping across the dimly lit room, the suffocating space he had buried himself in. It smelled of whiskey and resignation. But in the end, her eyes found him again—steady, unreadable.

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” she murmured.

“A nuisance. A partner. A friend. Or just another assignment fulfilling an order.”

Leon studied her, his eyes raking over every movement, every subtle shift in her expression—or rather, the lack thereof. A ghost in human skin, just like him.

A humorless grunt left his throat as he dropped the paper onto the table, gaze settling back onto the empty glass in front of him.

“I have no use for a ‘partner,’ ” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

But fate didn’t care what either of them had use for. Leon reached for the bottle at his side, the glass clinking softly as he poured himself another shot. The amber liquid swirled in the dim light before he knocked it back in one go, the burn barely registering anymore.

“…And I don’t need a ‘friend,’” he muttered, voice rough with exhaustion. “Been there, done that. Look where it got me.” His tone sarcastic and accompanied with a bitter edge.

He expected the usual—pity, discomfort, maybe even irritation. That was how people looked at him now, wasn’t it? Like something broken beyond repair, something they weren’t sure was worth fixing.

But not her.

Her gaze held no sympathy, no judgment. Just blank, detached indifference, as if his words meant nothing, as if his bitterness was neither surprising nor remarkable. Yet somehow, that emptiness made him feel something different. Something unfamiliar.

What the hell made her like that? So unaffected. So… hollow. Leon thought to himself.

For a fleeting second, curiosity scratched at the edges of his mind, but he buried it beneath the weight of his usual cold indifference. His gaze landed on the half empty bottle. With a scoff, he poured himself another drink.

“What are you staring at?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t linger. Just stood up, turned, and walked away, her voice just as flat as before.

“See you tomorrow.”

Leon’s eyes followed her retreating figure, his brows furrowing slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was surprise or irritation that settled in his chest.

“See you tomorrow?” He huffed, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Great. Can’t wait.”

With a shake of his head, he turned back to the table, mumbling under his breath as he poured yet another drink.

But when tomorrow came, against all odds, he showed up.

Chapter 2

Leon arrived at the DSO headquarters, his expression still tired, still brooding. The weight of sleepless nights and old ghosts clung to him like a second skin. He moved through the halls without acknowledging the glances that followed him, ignoring the silent questions written in the eyes of his fellow agents. None of it mattered. Not really.

His footsteps echoed against the cold floor as he approached the usual meeting room.

Soon he will come to find out that as always, she will be there.

Days passed, and she remained—unchanging, unwavering, like a fixture in the background of his life. A constant. A rock. She did the same things every day with the same quiet efficiency, always composed, always steady.

Leon found himself getting used to it. Her presence. The rhythm of their interactions.

They worked together on paperwork and reports. At first, he kept his distance, offering nothing beyond the bare minimum of conversation. Orders, acknowledgments, silence. That was all.

But then, little by little, something shifted.

Begrudgingly, Leon started noticing things.

Her dedication. Her precision. The way she focused, sharp and calculating. The subtle furrow in her brow when she was deep in thought. The way her fingers tapped once—just once—against the table before she made a decision. The way she never flinched, never hesitated, never let the weight of their work crush her.

She was calm. Too calm. It gnawed at him.

And that gnawing turned into something worse—curiosity.

One evening, in the silence of their shared office—much to Leon’s dismay—he found himself watching her. She was working through paperwork, brow slightly furrowed, lost in thought. Her reputation superseded her, known for her icy persona.

It was frustrating. And fascinating.

What was underneath that calm exterior? What was buried beneath that impassive gaze? The more time they spent together, the more he wanted to know.

And one day, the words left his lips before he could stop them.

“You’ve got a story, don’t you?” His voice was gruff, edged with something he wasn’t ready to name. “Everyone always does.”

She didn’t look at him, not right away. Just paused.

And then, softly, simply—

“The same as anybody else here.”

Her gaze met his, unreadable as always, but this time, something flickered beneath the surface. Something quiet. Something dark.

“A story of death.”

Leon’s expression hardened. He knew the weight of her words, knew it intimately. Loss had a way of carving into a person, hollowing them out until all that remained was the echo of what once was. He had lived in that echo for years.

“Ah, right… Should’ve figured.” His tone was gruff, edged with something unspoken. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “What, you lost a family, a friend, a lover? The usual.”

She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even look up.

“All of the above.” She replied flatly.

The words landed with a quiet finality as she returned to her work, pen scratching against paper like a heartbeat in the silence.

Leon let out a bitter chuckle, though there was no humor in it. Just a tired sort of knowing.

“All of the above, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.” The bitterness curled at the edges of his voice, familiar and sharp.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as he studied her. Always so composed, so unaffected. It irritated him.

It jealoused him.

“And yet,” he murmured, voice quieter now, “you still manage to keep that damn poker face of yours on.”

For the first time, she flinched. It was small—barely there—but Leon caught it.

What he didn’t know was that, over the days they spent together, she had been watching him too. And, just like him, she had grown envious.

She looked down at her paperwork again, drowning in ink and silence.

Leon wanted to ignore it—to brush it off as nothing—but he couldn’t.

It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there. A crack in the perfect, impenetrable wall she had built around herself. And now that he had seen it, he couldn’t look away.

His gaze lingered, sharp and searching. She still sat there, outwardly calm, unbothered, indifferent. But something had shifted. There was something beneath the surface—something restless, something Humane.

For the first time in years, Leon felt a genuine, gnawing curiosity toward another human being.

And he hated it.

He hated how it made him feel—something raw, something unfamiliar. Something he thought he had lost a long time ago.

He wanted to shake her, to demand that she react, to force her to feel something—anything. Because how could she just sit there? How could she be so damn unaffected?

But all he could do was stare, his frustration curling beneath his own carefully constructed mask.

After a long silence, his voice finally broke through.

“You know…” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re like a damn brick wall, you know that?”

His tone was gruff, edged with exasperation, but there was no real malice in it. Just tired frustration.

She stopped at her tracks.

Then, with a sharp click, she put her pen down—a little too hard.

When she looked at him, her expression was worn, drained by the weight of this conversation. She let out a soft huff. Then, fleeting as a shadow, the corner of her lips twitched. A small smirk.

Brief. Almost nonexistent like her reaction beforehand.

But Leon saw it once more. And for reasons he didn’t quite understand, it stuck with him. For just a fraction of a second, Leon’s heart stumbled.

It was ridiculous, really. Just a smirk—brief, barely there—and yet it caught him off guard, sent an uninvited flicker of warmth through the cracks in his cold exterior.

But years of practice made him quick to recover. His face remained impassive, his expression unreadable, though deep down, he hated how easily she had managed to affect him.

So, he did what he always did—he covered it up.

With a scoff, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, voice gruff and laced with something he refused to name.

“About time you show some emotions. Was starting to think you were a goddamn robot.”

She glanced at him then, her movements slow, deliberate. And though her face returned to its usual unreadable calm, there was something different in her gaze now—something lighter, something teasing.

“What emotion?” she mused, amusement barely touching her tone as she stood, gathering the paperwork she had been working on.

Leon watched her go, jaw tightening, hands instinctively reaching for something—his glass, a cigarette, anything to keep himself occupied.

Damn her.

Damn that smirk.

Chapter 3

Days passed, and the DSO had seen what they had hoped for—Leon was changing.

Slowly, subtly, but undeniably so.

And surprisingly… so was she.

The higher-ups gathered in the dimly lit conference room, murmuring amongst themselves as they observed the reports laid out before them. Chris Redfield sat among them, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He was in charge of this branch, after all. This was his call as much as anyone else’s.

One of the higher-ups leaned forward, tapping a finger against the polished mahogany table.

"Let's send them on a mission now. I think it's time."

There was a murmur of agreement, though some voices still held doubt. They debated back and forth—was it too soon? Was this the right moment to see if their carefully constructed plan had worked? Was the seed they had planted now ready for harvest?

Chris remained silent, staring at the documents in front of him.

A part of him felt guilt gnawing at his gut for the hand he played in all this. He knew what this was—what it had always been.

Leon had caught on from the very beginning. Of course, he had. He was too sharp not to see through the DSO’s ploy. They were assets—resources to be molded, manipulated, used. Their pain was simply another variable in a calculated equation.

And yet…

Chris exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. The truth was, despite the cold and calculated nature of it all, the outcome was undeniable.

Leon was better.

Not fixed. Not healed. But better.

And for the first time in a long while, Chris felt something settle in his chest—something almost like relief.

Maybe, just maybe, the road the DSO had forced them onto wasn’t entirely cruel. Because for all the wrong reasons behind it, the result was something good.

At least… for his friend.

[riizewrtr]

hihi i really like ur work!! and saw that you were taking request so if you dont mind ill leave a couple? (like 2💀)

but do you think i can request riize’s first impressions of you if i phrased that right ik you have meeting their crush for the first time but like a non idol au where like reader is friends with one of their friends and meets them for the first time

IM REALLY SORRY IF THIS SOUNDS TM BUT I DIDNR WANNA CONFUSE THANK YOUU:)

riize meeting you for the first time and where/how he met you!~

shotaro would meet you at a dance studio~ he would be absolutely infatuated and in awe of how you moved. he would think your style matched his the most out of any person in the studio. he would love the smile on your face, the way you laughed. i can see him a bit shy to come up to you first, but he would be the type to start off with "you did amazing out there"

eunseok would meet you through friends! you were in a small friend group, but once it had gotten bigger you would meet eunseok that way. he seemed cold and as a stone, but once you and your friends got closer and started hanging outside of school you would see he's a really cheeky and sweet guy. he would think you're pretty & chill. he would see you as someone who he can rely on!

sungchan you would meet him through the internet, maybe instagram or tiktok. he would casually always see you show up on his fyp or you commenting on his videos. he would take the time to message you so you can become closer. his first impression is that you are cute, and you seemed very silly and outgoing and he really liked that!

Wonbin first saw you at the skate park. he was playing his guitar for fun, when he saw you with a group of friends. he would see you as "his type". his type at first sight lol, he saw how you smiled and laughed. he saw how amazing you were at skating, how you laughed whenever you didn't land correctly or fell off the board. he liked that about you. would take him a few times(days) to get the courage to speak to you.

Seunghan you'd casually meet at the mall or in a store(in the mall). you were working at a store he had walked in. When he didn't know what he wanted, he always asked YOU for your help specifically, just so he can talk to you. i can see it taking him a few weeks before he decided it was time to ask for your number. He would always stop by the store so he can see your sweet smile. his first impression was that you loved helping people and it made him feel some type of butterflies in his stomach.

Sohee would think you were the most gorgeous girl in the class. his eyes never left your frame whenever you were in class. Only a few seats down from him. Whenever you talked he would think it sounded like a voice hug. You were soft-spoken and sweet. You were never rude, nor did you ever complain. (out loud at least.) he loved the way you hummed softly while working on projects or work.

Anton would meet you in the train station. You both would always be on the train at the same time almost everyday. Perhaps you were getting off work or out of school, regardless you always ended up in the same train. I don't think he would talk to you first, you'd have to initiate bc his first impression of you is that you were too gorgeous to talk to for someone like him.

[weirdbabs]

What gift would your favorite character most like to receive and what would they give to their loved ones?

okay, ive got 3 characters im gonna be going with, 1 from bobs and 2 from paranatural bc you WILL be seeing me talk about it often

Zeke (Bob’s Burgers):

i think, in a “dream wish, this probablys never gonna to happen but i can hope for it” kinda way, he would want some really high end cooking equipment. stand mixer, cast iron skillets, butane torch, maybe a sous vide cooker? something that would let him expand his culinary prowess and what he can create

when it comes to what he gives others as gifts i think he would buy little things, like trinkets and such, that the giftee had never expressed interest in, and it all ends up being very hit or miss. either they absolutely love it or hate it , no in between. hell put a lot of thought into whatever hes looking at but sometimes something will grab his eye and hell grab it on impulse, but hes always so excited when he presents it that even if the giftee hates it they cant help but smile bc zeke saw this (absolutely horrible) thing, thought of them, and then got it all bc he thought they would like it

Max Puckett (Paranatural):

to be honest i dont know what max would want. a new scooter and a key to his friends house are obvious answers that im trying to look past. i think possibly something like backstage passes to an insolent children concert or like the ability to spend the day with shred eagle and do a bunch of stunts/tricks. something where he gets to meet and share his interests with someone he admires

i feel like max would give ppl mix tapes he put together. like, he would present it as no big deal, say that he just put a bunch of  random songs on a disc, but no 2 would be the same, there would be a flow to the songs, and it would be a mix of bands they know and bands theyd never heard of that all somehow fit to their exact music tastes

Isabel Guerra (Paranatural):

i think she would want something that is HERS. no one elses. something new, not used, not a hand me down, and something that she doesnt have to share with others. the curse of growing up in a poor household with multiple ppl and sharing your toothbrush for who knows how long with like 4 others

gift wise, i think she tries to make homemade gifts but ends up making them 1. way more complicated than needs to be 2. way above her skill level and 3. takes on way more projects than she can handle. i think she would see that someone likes sweaters and go okay 👍 then try to teach herself to knit, plan a cable knit sweater, and then if its not perfect itll be a big blow to her self esteem. i think someone would say that theyre cold and she would go okay 👍 ive got 2 weeks, i think im going to make them a quilt then pick the most complicated pattern. someone says they like a piece of furniture left on the side of the street to be thrown out and she goes okay 👍 then grabs it in the middle of the night, strips and sands it down then restores it for them. she spends like a month and a half leading up to the holidays operating on 3-4 hours of sleep and if asked why shes doing this to herself shed say that shes saving money by doing the work herself (even tho with cost of materials shes really, really not). i think she just likes a challenge and feels the need to prove herself

[mikeslvr]

random scott (and a bit of purplephone) info dump bc why not (all info from my au laffnaf)

Say im self projecting if you want but i see him as a nail biter. Not to a large extent bc he cares abt making a good appearance, modest and all, and he can’t do that as well if his nails are torn up, but when he gets really stressed out one of his go-to moves is to pace back and forth while chewing on his thumbnail. if not a biter then he picks at them. he's easily stressed what can i say

follow-up : he makes it up by filing his nails and making them all pretty again afterwards. maybe even letting vincent paint them

He was in college for nursing, as he always took an interest towards helping those who are injured, and also had a weird curiosity regarding the human body and anatomy, which made the classes easier to stomach and more engaging for him. It never did work out, but scott now has a vault of human anatomy knowledge and nursing skills in his back pocket. he wonders a lot what life would've been life if he pushed for his dream career.

He has diagnosed ADHD and OCD,, not much else to say about that really

He's very good with kids, while Vincent is very.. not great with kids. Scott would love to care for a child with Vincent once their relationship finally solidified. Vincent hadn't connected with a kid ever since his nephew, Evan, passed away in an animatronic related incident, so Scott thought it could be good for him to try again, and he always had the thought of having a child poking at the back of his head. It never worked out, though.

Scott got drunk at karaoke parties during college. Like I just have a hunch. Not blackout drunk but like,, "someone spiked the punch and i already had 4 cups so im just gonna have fun" drunk. he also had a bunch of girlfriends in college that he was an absolute angel to. some of them ended things on nice terms but a lot of them thought he was "too soft" and basically told him to f off. rude >:(

not an info dump but i have the image of vincent opening the back door to the pizzeria that leads into the alleyway, and seeing scott slightly hunched over, crossing an arm across his chest to try and warm himself as he smokes a cigarette out in the cold. and vincent just laughs as he shuts the door going, "well, well, well, what do we have here, mr. hypocrite? i thought you said smoking was bad?" scott gets all stuttery, saying "yeah, well-" but being cut off by vincent bumping his head into scott's shoulder, "just shut up and give me one too, i wont tell the guys." i love their dynamic when they do get together but pre-dating purplephone drives me crazy i just had to share that idea

and finally scott let vincent try and dye his hair with purple hair chalk once. it kinda worked? i might draw that one day