#in part to all my lovely friends and mutuals

[lovieku]

INTRO ⋆ 정국

you’re jeongguk’s secret santa this year, so you give him the best gift he’ll ever receive.

⋆⁺₊❅. 1/6 from christmas & chill

pairing virgin!jk x fem reader

genre smut, fluff, friends to lovers, first time

warnings painfully oblivious jk, even more painfully oblivious oc, mutual pining unlike anything you’ve seen, jk being a hot nerd ceo who’s loaded rich and unaware of his potential, please imagine him as nam joohyuk in start up, oc just creaming her pants for jk, hand job, lowk strip tease, dry humping, nipple play (m&f), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, jk is so needy and impatient but also very polite, smut is kinda rushed because well… it’s his first time! sawrry! also i open gifts on xmas eve please don’t come for me and my traditions (it’s lich just because i’m impatient)

word count 8.3k

author’s note hello hello hello!!! i’m so nervy to post this because it’s what finally inaugurates c&c!!!! i hope it can be a pleasing (intro)duction to the series hehe… either way you’ll get something totally better from miss lyssa tomorrow so stay tuned Wink 🩷 luv u always

banner by the talented @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

Secret Santas have become the only way you’ve been able to deal with Christmas. When it comes to gift-giving, you’re embarrassed to admit that creativity in that department doesn’t exactly come naturally to you.

You try your best, truly. But you either end up going over budget, striving to please all your loved ones with unnecessarily expensive gifts which will only leave you with empty hands and an empty wallet, or having your brain completely stop working, if not to come up with the most basic and useless options that will get you forced smiles and polite nods in fake recognition.

It’s exhausting, demoralizing, and frankly, a recipe for holiday burnout.

So when two years ago, on the brink of giving up entirely and seriously contemplating hibernating through winter, your dear friend Jimin swooped in and suggested Secret Santa, it completely reshaped your next Christmases.

Exactly a month before Christmas Eve, you reunite over drinks and food at Jeongguk’s house to draw names. His place always ends up as the default spot for dinners, movie nights, or even football matches. Those don’t usually get the attention of everybody, especially of some of the girls, and it wouldn’t get yours either.

But you never skip game night. Correction, you never miss an excuse to be in Jeongguk’s space, even if it means sitting through 90 minutes of men chasing a ball on a screen. After all, you’re never truly paying attention, always stealing glances at the boy who seems almost even more uninterested than you.

It’s about witnessing him in his house— which, truthfully, is more of a mansion. The spacious, cozy interiors mirror a part of him that’s hard to miss: his perfectionist side, the one that likes to keep things understated but can’t help leaving subtle, telling marks of his presence on everything he touches, is woven into every corner.

Over time, you’ve naturally come to associate the place with holidays, laughter, and celebrations that fill you with a sense of belonging. Being here, surrounded by your closest friend, makes you feel profoundly grateful.

And there’s so many traces of you all, too. The faint wine stain on Jeongguk’s carpet that is only still noticeable if you squint, the one that spilled from your glass when Hoseok’s jokes had you laughing too hard; the long, slim scratch on the kitchen door, courtesy of Eunbi, who thought learning how to balance glasses on her forehead would get one of her coworkers to finally fall for her; the wobbly vase on the coffee table that was knocked over during one of Jimin’s overly enthusiastic attempts to kick a water bottle open.

Watching Jeongguk deal with the chaos you all force into his space might be another big reason why you love being here. It seems to squeeze out his most genuine reactions and quirks, and you can’t help biting your lips at those, almost pornographically so.

For someone who works so hard to appear composed, and who’s also extremely shy and reserved, Jeongguk is hilariously transparent when things don’t go his way. Brows furrowed, as if that’s where he keeps all his control. Although, no matter how flustered he gets, Jeongguk almost never gets choleric. His instinct is never to lash out but to scramble, a picture of barely contained stress insisting that everything is fine.

And the more he insists, the more you find yourself wishing it wasn’t fine. Sometimes, you want to see him lose it— especially at you.

You’ve tried, too. You’ve pushed boundaries, done little things to test the limits of his patience, all for the slim possibility of seeing him crack, just for you. But it never works. The best you get is an awkward smile, maybe a quiet laugh. It’s not nothing, but it’s not what you want, either.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this crazy about someone before. Not in the way where everything he does sends your brain spinning with possibilities. It’s maddening. His obliviousness is maddening.

Chiefly tonight, when you’re trying extra hard to keep it under control, the whole group gathering in a circle around the bowl that holds all your names, each one carefully folded into a little square, waiting to be drawn.

But when your slim fingers brush against one of the many crumpled pieces of paper and decide your fate, you send a small prayer to whoever might be listening. Please, don’t let it be Jeongguk.

It doesn’t really come off as a coherent request, especially considering how much your body has betrayed you tonight. Your thighs have been pressing together most of the evening, a subconscious reaction every time your gaze wandered — lingered — on Jeongguk’s lower half. Those low, slouchy grey sweatpants, hanging effortlessly off his narrow hips, have been the source of many inappropriate thoughts that you wish would make you grow some shame within yourself. Instead, they only make you grow hotter in your seat.

No, you would love to be Jeongguk’s Secret Santa with the blatant, embarrassingly huge crush you have on him. You think you’d be happy about it in any other universe, except this one.

Jeongguk is difficult. And not because he’s ever been argumentative, looking to start quarrels, never willing to agree or see past his nose. He’s far from those. He’s one of the easiest people to be around, rarely judgmental, even when you were drunk off your mind and you jokingly grinded on very-gay Jimin to make up for your lack of sexual activity. On those occasions, you didn't exactly see judgement in his eyes. Just reticence. Maybe. It wasn’t clear.

What is clear is that Jeongguk is incredibly particular. He’s picky about what he likes and even more so about what he doesn’t, though dislike might be too soft a word. When he hates something, it’s impossible not to know. He doesn’t even try to mask his disappointment.

It’s not malicious, of course. He’s not the type to be spiteful. It’s just how he is, an open book, his expressions giving him away without fail.

It’s one of the many reasons you love watching him, other than hoping your eyes would telepathically convey your undying desire to fuck him and cuddle him close to your chest afterwards. But most of the time, studying the shifts in his features is a way for you to decipher what he’s thinking.

And that’s why this moment feels so high-stakes. The last thing you want is to be on the receiving end of one of Jeongguk’s polite smiles or barely-there nods of acknowledgment, the kind he gives when he’s unimpressed. It would crush you, the ultimate failure in your short-lived career as a gift-giver.

It’s not just that he’s hard to please. Jeongguk is also the last person who seems to need anything. He’s loaded, his success as a game developer has afforded him a life where anything he wants is within reach. And yet, despite his wealth, there’s no arrogance about him. If you didn’t know him so well, you might think he was just another college student scraping by.

Who else but Jeon Jeongguk could walk around in a hoodie and square glasses, looking like he just rolled out of bed, while being the CEO of his own company?

But, of course, none of this is important. Because as you unfold the piece of paper in your hand, it’s there. Jeongguk.

You don’t think you enjoy Secret Santa as much anymore.

With the bowl continuing its journey around the circle, you spend the rest of the game staring holes into the back of Jeongguk’s head, desperately trying to figure out what in the world you could possibly get him. Your monthly budget feels laughable in comparison to his lifestyle, but you’re already prepared to go way over it if that’s what it takes to impress him.

You wonder if he’s as insecure as you are when he quietly unfolds the small, paper square he picked up and scans the name. His bug eyed expression doesn’t hide an evident surprise, the twitch of his eyebrows managing to conceal a possible disappointment.

For someone who’s usually so easy to read, Jeongguk seems uncharacteristically guarded in this moment, and it drives you crazy. You squint at him, frowning as you try to decipher any small detail on his face. Is he annoyed? Or worse, completely indifferent?

Either way, it doesn’t look like a positive reaction. If it ends up being you, you’ll rethink back to this moment and cry yourself to sleep.

With the first step out of the way, the night goes on following its usual rhythm. Only by the end of it, Jeongguk’s space starting to empty, you quietly help him put some order to the mess left behind by a too drunk Hoseok paired with his too drunk best friend Taehyung.

You keep yourself busy with storing some leftover food, managing to keep your tone unbothered when you ask, “Hey, Gguk. Wanna help me with the party planning this year?”

Always obliging to your every request, he only stutters slightly in his movements, the glasses he was cleaning clinking together. He clears his throat, “S—sure. I’ll help you, goldie.” The stammer doesn’t seem to be caused by any kind of hesitation, just an usual consequence to his nature. Reserved, quiet.

You nod, gulping way too loudly at the special nickname he has for you, and both of you keep your focus on your doings instead of witnessing the faint blush dusting your cheeks, “Cool. I’ll text you the details tomorrow.”

Details texted, your efforts to divert the conversation into something remotely playful failed miserably. Jeongguk is painfully formal, methodical as ever, hyper-focused on the party. When you sent him a TikTok you deemed adorable enough to nudge him toward a different matter, maybe hint at the dog being the cutest thing he’s ever seen and that you two should definitely adopt three of them and move in together, he still doesn’t get it.

gguk🤍: Oh… I asked my brother to keep Bam for Christmas Eve. I thought he would be too much of a hassle, especially with Iseul not being fond of dogs.

You had stared at the ceiling for a long moment after reading that text. Jeongguk is endearingly dense, and you don’t mind it most of the time. But it’s starting to cause quiet bursts of frustration when it comes to whatever undefined thing you two have, and what is clearly simmering for the eyes of everybody to see, except his.

You’d thought giving him his first handjob when he quietly confessed he’s never been touched, his voice a tremble in the calm aftermath of a chaotic group sleepover, would be enough to make him see. His quiet whimpers were hypnotizing calls that only you were meant to hear, and your fist pumping his girthy length with intent was speaking all you were afraid to voice.

Jeongguk came hard and unannounced all over your hand, pleasured sounds muffled in the side of your neck, and you’d assured him it was okay; he did good; that you would get something to clean him up. You didn’t sleep that night, and he didn’t either, spending the rest of it next to each other on his couch talking pointless conversation.

If that hadn’t opened his eyes, you were beginning to wonder what would.

“So… Do you have any idea what to gift your person?”

Jeongguk stirs his latte for the fourth time. You’d decided to meet at a café halfway between your cramped flat and his mansion, because it was the easiest way you managed to make your busy schedules merge.

“No, Gguk,” you acknowledge his question without meeting his eyes, focusing on the grocery list on your laptop instead.

What would? You’re starting to think subtlety isn’t cutting it. Maybe it never has. Perhaps the only way to break through that frustratingly thick skull of his is to go full throttle, strip naked right here in the middle of this café and spell it out for him.

Your eye involuntary twitches at the thought in relation to his question. Crazy Christmas gift, you reason as you stare maniacally at your bright screen. Yeah. Totally crazy.

Shaking your head, you can’t resist glancing up at him. The idea doesn’t seem so irrational anymore, not when your insides twist at the sight of his absorbed expression, his brows furrowed as he scribbles out unheard-of maths on a piece of paper to figure out group expenses.

With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you abandon your pretense of being productive and let yourself watch him work. A teasing lilt slips into your voice as you prod him in your usual way, “Why should I believe you already don’t know who it is?”

He blinks up at you, promptly, like he always does when you speak to him, and he stumbles, “Huh— I don’t—”

“You so do. You probably already guessed it all with your nerdy brain.”

Despite looking mildly offended, his ears turn red anyway, “Nerdy brain—”

“Glasses look cute on you,” that shuts him up; his mouth, his brain. Completely unable to cater to any of their functions.

You smirk at the way he diverts his gaze, pointer finger unconsciously fixing the specs on the bridge of his nose, and you wonder how much longer it’ll take for him to notice that you don’t just go around calling everyone’s glasses cute.

Sighing, you continue, “Anyways. It’s not you.”

“W—what? Is it really not?” When he looks up at you with even wider eyes, you feel bad for lying to him but you still shake your head. He mutters, “Shoot. I was so sure I had it.”

A playful scoff escapes you, “See! You did sit in your nerdy room and tried to guess!”

“Stop calling me a nerd,” it’s a request grumbled in the most adorable way you’ve heard, and there’s no real heat behind it. Especially when he goes back to be exactly what he doesn’t want you to refer to him as, “Well, if it’s not me, it must be Taehyung.”

You pretend to busy yourself with your touchpad as you ponder on his eagerness. Then, you voice the result, “What’s the fun in knowing right now?”

Jeongguk hesitates for a moment too long before admitting, “I don’t know. I guess it makes me less anxious.”

It’s a raw kind of honesty, much like what he was painted all over with when he came from your touch, and it has you shifting your gaze back on him, now absorbed in doodling stylized portraits of Bam right next to numbers and additions.

You don’t know if it’s the hot chocolate still simmering in your tummy, the warmth from the coat laying on your legs, the café’s natural heat or Jeongguk’s proximity, but you buzz with something homely.

Ariana Grande’s version of Last Christmas replays for the third time in a row, and at this point you’re starting to believe it’s a conscious choice, but you don’t mind it.

Jeongguk belongs to the world the soft melody is building, hugged by a woolen white sweater, the wide glass window behind him giving the perfect view to a classic winter scenery, snow softly resting on any surface it finds and unconsciously bringing magic to dullness. Or maybe it’s just him adding that last bit.

You smile at his small confession, reassuring with your tone, almost drowning in the lively chatter of the place surrounding you, “You don’t have to be.”

Jeongguk only nods, tapping the pencil on his temple as he studies what he has so far with sudden doubt. He looks at your laptop, scanning the long forgotten visual board on your Pinterest, then back to his calculations.

Giving one more glance at the screen, he concludes, “By the way, I really don’t think that color would look good in my living room.”

Ugh.

You think you want to strangle him when he deflects so easily from these moments. And mostly, the burgundy he’s so easily refusing happens to be one of your favorite shades. Do your tastes ever match?

God, as much as you want him, you hope he’s not your Secret Santa.

────⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆────

Jeongguk is your Secret Santa.

And on Christmas Eve, he’s pacing the length of his living room back and forth, his socks brushing against the polished wooden floor with each step. You’re supposed to arrive any minute now to help him with the final touches before the others come for dinner, and the idea of having you here alone is enough to make his hands clammy and his thoughts stumble.

The neatly wrapped gift with its shiny red paper sits tucked under the towering Christmas tree, the one adorned in messy decor that his friends jumbled up together. The item hidden inside the bag doesn’t share his anxieties, though he suspects his downstairs neighbour might have caught on to it with the incessant pacing.

When you ring the doorbell he’s jolted out of it and, practically tripping over his own feet, he rushes to the door and yanks it open. He would have let you in just as rapidly if his brain didn’t stop short at seeing you standing there.

You’re cladded in a soft sweater that looks two sizes larger, its beige tones complimenting the warm brown of his own jumper, and your short skirt peeks out beneath its hem, edged with lace ruffles. At your feet, a pair of chestnut Uggs that he can only hope are enough to make up for the cold shivers on your bare legs. Not that he’s staring, so intently he has to gulp down an impulsive thought. No, he’s just a naturally observing guy.

And that brings him to notice that your hands are empty, save for a small purse and a bottle of wine. No bag, no box, no sign of a gift.

When his gaze flickers back to your face, your eyes are wide and darting nervously between his own, narrowed by the frown that he can’t quite hide but bug sized the moment he catches a trace of insecurity in your shaky voice, “Hi.”

It could be the cold causing the brief greeting to tremble, small snowflakes laying on your neatly styled hair, shimmering for a brief moment before melting away. It pulls him out from his unabashed study of you, and he steps aside to let you into his much warmer space.

Your vanilla scent inebriating his senses has him forgetting all about your seemingly non existent gift, and how he suddenly finds himself wishing he truly did get something messed up in his calculations, that you’re not his Secret Santa.

But you are.

Many drinks later, filling up everyone’s stomachs along with shared food and belly laughter, it’s time to exchange gifts and the expression on your face is unlikely anything he’s caught on so far.

A huge contrast to the mellow Christmas tunes indistinctly playing in the background, your eyes are impassive as you word your excuses, “I’m sorry, Gguk. I forgot your gift at home.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” he says quickly, the words spilling out with genuine ease. And it really is okay. He’s not upset— far from it. The thought of you giving him anything at all, even belatedly, is enough to make him feel content.

But now, as the group’s attention turns toward him, his heart races for an entirely different reason. His gift for you, a lavish, over-the-top gesture that far exceeds the modest budget they all agreed on, sits waiting on his lap.

When it finds a new home atop your own crossed legs, you’re eager as you rip the paper, but your eyes don’t follow your movements. Instead, you focus on the nervous boy sitting across from you, your very own Secret Santa who’s monitoring your hands for you while subtly rocking from one side to the other.

His anxiety is endearingly soft, but you can see something more to it, almost an irrational fear of tripping on the wrong step, messing up something that’s supposed to be simple.

You hear it before you see it. The whole room inhales sharply in a collective surprise, with some gasps muffled behind hands pressed to mouths. You scramble for an explanation in their expressions, jumping from one face to the other, stopping on Jeongguk’s own, gaze glued to his fidgeting fingers, head bowed down to his lap.

When you slowly look down at what’s resting on yours, you almost wheeze. If they could, your eyes would leap out of their sockets.

Your palm instinctively presses on your lips as you look between the gift and the gifter in a frantic attempt to catch any sign that this is not what it is. With the music being the only sound eerily filling the sudden silence, you add to it, even if barely, with your voice a whisper, “What is this?”

Jeongguk gulps and finally meets you, “It’s m—my gift for you.”

It’s not like you even opened it yet. But the simple sight of the box had you grasping for support. On the pale, textured surface of the square box, the unmistakable gold lettering is what’s making your orbs shake in confusion: Dior.

You trace the sign with your pointed finger, tilting your head up to look at Jeongguk through your lashes, and you don’t know how else to put it, “Ggukkie… Were you there when we set the budget?”

Jimin butts in with a scoff, “Yeah, that’s like fifteen thousand won multiplied by another fifty thousand.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what he should say. He’s scared of the deafening silence that follows, the way Jimin’s comment seems to linger in the air, the way you seem to struggle with finding something to say in response.

He begins, tries to, “I—”

“Fuck, Gguk,” the simple sound of your words has his mind spiralling, palms clammy with doubts that question his every choice leading up to this moment, feeling foolish for even thinking this could be right, a shot worth trying. What if you think he’s showing off? Or worse, overcompensating?

But what he fails to notice is the toothy grin that follows your shameless surprise, your fingers gingerly lifting the lid of the box, and really, if only he had the courage to look up at you he’d have avoided the worries.

He misses your reaction at the reveal: the prettiest earrings sit on a soft cushion, gleaming gold with delicate CD initials and cream pearls dangling gracefully beneath them.

“These are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I love them. You didn’t have to.”

Jeongguk’s head snaps up. He meets your face painted with the most beautiful grin he’s ever seen you wear, your cheeks burning with red and your nose scrunching as you carefully slip the earrings to take a better look at them. With you, everybody else around him seems in awe, too. Their soft, endeared whispers begin to fill the earlier suffocating silence, melting into a sweetness reserved entirely for Jeongguk.

He exhales quietly, the welcomed warmth in his chest replacing the cold. He admits, no stutter, no fear, just a sheepish smile, “I wanted to.”

Jeongguk really did want to. It felt like his one shot. A desperate, last-ditch attempt at making you see him the way he’s always seen you; a declaration wrapped in gold and pearls.

He wants you to see him as more than the shy, awkward boy who stumbles over his words and blushes too easily. More than the nerd who spends too much time working on equations and codes half the world doesn’t know about. More, just to have you look at him a bit closer.

He wants to be a man, one who badly wants you, in your eyes.

They’re gleaming with adorable excitement as they flicker back to his, sheepishly accompanying your quiet request, “Can you… put them on for me?”

Jeongguk is at your side in no time, handling the earrings with care while trying to keep his usual clumsiness at bay as he fastens the dainty jewels in place. He begins to understand why it’s hard to see him as anything else but gawky when he feels his heartbeat speed up from the simple way his skin is brushing against yours.

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the spell, playful, “Oh, what a pretty princess. Jeongguk truly has an eye for this stuff.”

With the group following with chuckles and mindless banter, Jeongguk feels uncharacteristically bold, gaze fixated entirely on you as he lets himself spill something meant for you only to hear, “I think it’s just you. You’re beautiful.”

You’re clearly caught off guard, and it stings a little when he realizes the only reason he doesn’t get to see you this flustered often is because he’s usually busy being the flustered one. Blinking up at him through your lashes, your laugh comes out a little breathless, and the sweet way you let your cheek rest on your shoulder has him daring to hope.

“Nerd.”

But no. There it is again.

That’s all he’ll ever be in your eyes.

He forces a smile that barely reaches his eyes, but you’re too engrossed with having your pearls admired by the rest of the group to notice. Those weren’t a waste; he would do it all the same. You deserve everything that makes your eyes shine, that brings the corners of your lips into that grin that shakes him, that can ever bring you joy. He just wishes it could bring you more than that; bring you to a bigger sentiment, a bigger realization.

Perhaps that’s why he can’t shake off the awful mood that pervades his senses throughout the rest of the night, the earrings hanging from your ears catching the twinkly, warm lights and mocking him with delighted amusement. There’s nothing else you can do, you nerdy boy.

Perhaps that’s also why, when the house starts to empty and you’re in his kitchen making yourself helpful with dishes, he slips on composure when you accidentally let a glass slide from your dainty hands.

It breaks the moment it meets the ground, and the sound penetrates his ears, both of you jumping at the impact. He hisses, “What— what the heck, ___!”

You’re startled, blinking up at him. It’s not the chaos from the glass, not its tiny pieces covering the floor and reaching your feet. It’s the deliberate frustration of his tone, one he’s never let free, especially with you.

You pant for apologies, but they can’t seem to be let out. Wide eyes jumping between his own bug ones, your brows draw up in shame. It has never been this easy to get him bothered. Hell, you’ve even struggled to.

Jeongguk only sighs, dragging a hand across his nape, and he regrets the quiet sharpness in his voice the second he lets it out, “God. Be more careful next time.”

He’s still quicker than you on his feet, moving to sweep the mess you’ve created before you can even react. You seem to move in slow, infinite motions, kneeling down to pick up the bigger pieces, all while keeping an unusual silence.

He steals a glance up at you, biting his lower pierced lip in sudden guilt, “Are you okay?”

Your hands pause, clutching a fragment of glass as your eyes flicker up to meet his. You nod, distant, and it does nothing to convince him.

He doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to your hesitant confirmation, rather he’s hyper-focused on your fingers, and before you realize the shift in his expression, he alarmedly blurts out, “Goldie. You’re bleeding.”

The sting barely registers for you until his words bring it to your attention. Looking down, you see a sharp, red line running across your finger, small but enough to make Jeongguk spring into action.

You’re lifted off the floor and ushered to the bathroom in fractions of seconds, letting yourself be handled like you don’t own your body. The only thing you want to be aware of is the switch in his behaviour. He’s back to normal once he’s in his quiet bubble of concentration, movements precise as he cleans the barely visible wound and carefully places a band aid over it.

All while he can’t stop apologizing, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was not your fault. But, this. This is my fa—”

“Jeongguk, it’s just a scratch.”

The way he meets your eyes with his face drawn tight and brows furrowed makes you rethink your statement. Maybe it’s more than a scratch. Maybe it’s the only thing that snapped him out of his frustrated daze.

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve that.”

Your first instinct is to giggle; it’s a resonance of the butterflies childishly swarming in your belly from the proximity and his careful words. Both your gazes soften as you accept each other, even the faulted versions of tonight, and a timid smile stretches over his lips.

You hesitate before speaking again, your mouth opening only to close, reconsidering your words; but then you finally let out what you had foolishly planned as your next desperate attempt to cling to him.

“Can you… My car is… Can you take me home?”

What you’re now sure you like the most about Jeongguk is how he caters to your needs before you even have to voice them. The soft kindness in his eyes, the way his body instinctively shifts to act before his mind even fully processes the request. He’s already nodding, ready to make it happen for you.

“Yeah. Of course.”

The heat in his car fans over your cheeks, dusting them with a soft red that has his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he turns to steal glances at you at stoplights. You keep talking, filling the air with contentment about the night’s events, and it’s like that subtle slip of his never happened.

It’s almost too easy to surrender and pretend that everything is fine, that he doesn’t feel the ache of wanting more. If staying a nerd in your eyes means getting to be this close, to hear your laughter, to see the slight curve of your lips as you speak, then maybe it’s enough.

His subtle gestures — adjusting the temperature so you’re comfortable, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter when your giggles spill into the cabin — don’t go unnoticed. They settle into you and have your heart beating anticipatedly.

God, you won’t regret what you’re about to do.

By the time he pulls up in front of your place, you promptly turn to him before he can offer anything else, voice a bit too eager, “Would you like to come inside?”

“Huh—”

“I’ll show you my gift.”

Jeongguk sits on your couch, because you tell him to wait there. And of course, he’s a great listener. Very obedient, willing to follow your every order.

His fingertips drum restlessly on his thighs and he can only busy himself with his surroundings, every detail speaking for you. What’s definitely more prominent is the intoxicating scent of vanilla that clings in the air, of which he hopes his lungs inhale the entirety of, never getting enough of everything that is you.

When you come into his vision again, walking down the stairs in quiet steps, you’re tightly hugged in a trench coat, the textured belt cinched snugly around you and accentuating the small of your waist. Under it, your legs are bare. It has his mouth drying and his legs spreading stiffly on the couch.

He thought he got better at hiding his concerning infatuation. He hopes he did.

That’s why he initially manages to chuckle and attempt a joke, “Are you going somew—”

“Ta-da.”

Jeongguk doesn’t think he’s breathing. He doesn’t think he can even breathe anymore. His blinking fastens, brain stumbling over itself as it tries to make sense of what he’s sitting in front of.

You’ve loosened the coat just enough for the fabric to fall and reveal what you’ve carefully wrapped for him. You’re a gift coming in a red lingerie set clinging to your perfect curves, your boobs deliciously spilling out from the sides of your lace top and the line of your panties thin enough to leave little to the imagination.

He pants, scanning over your body once, twice, three times, questioning if the wine was perhaps laced with stronger substances, “What— What is this—”

“It’s my gift for you. Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

Meeting your face again, he nearly groans. You’re almost bare before him, yet you still sport a crimson blush and your teeth graze your bottom lip in a sheepish smile, in a way that is so achingly you. He can feel himself throbbing painfully in his pants. Thinks he could cum just from this view, tip over the edge without a single touch, no matter how bad he needs it.

“Fuck.”

You’ve barely ever heard Jeongguk curse throughout the time you’ve known him for. He only sometimes reserves that for his monitor, Overwatch games causing his composure to slip in adorable loud whispers.

But it’s like you’ve broken his dam, and he only lets more slip as you walk slowly but certainly closer to him, coat discarded on the floor, “Oh my, fuck. Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you. I— I don’t know what to do.”

It’s a quiet plea, the one that’s hidden in his strained words but clear in his full eyes glazed over with anticipation, his hands hovering uncertainly over his thighs, chest still heaving and struggling with manual breathing. He’s begging to feel deserving of this, to have you prove to him that it’s what you truly want for the both of you, to have you touching him and to be touching you.

He can’t help the moan that escapes him when you position yourself in between his spread legs, bodies close yet not touching, but he’s dying to feel you.

Now your turn to bend at his every request, your head tilts and your smile widens the more he’s forced to crane his neck up to keep your gazes connected, pending off your every syllable, “You don’t have to do anything. Will you let me take care of you?

“Yes, please,” the confirmation is immediate and empty of hesitance. Under you, Jeongguk nods promptly with his lips agape, watering with want when you straddle his lap to sit yourself on him.

He wails, throwing his head back and searching for all the strength it takes from holding back his instinct to snap up against your core, snuggled atop his raging hardness. At his shameless desperation, your giggles fill his ears, and when they’re followed by your cold hand on his cheek redirecting his gaze on yours, he feels feverish.

Delirious, eyes barely keeping from rolling back, his brain reduced to senseless blabbering, “My God. Thank you for this.”

With his brows adorably drawn up, he focuses on your dilated pupils now that your faces are mere centimetres apart, and you close the distance with small pecks that trace his jaw, up to his ear lobe, whispering against the skin, “Are you seriously thanking God while I’m about to take your virginity?

Jeongguk hisses in a frenzied surge, his hands still unsurely keeping from touching you, and your sarcastic pun has him full on rambling, “Shit, sorry. I don’t even believe in God. This just feels too good to be true. You look like a fucking angel.”

“Ggukkie, language!” Your seductive tone along with your chuckle reverberates right against his chest, your hands moving to lead your own palms up and down his broad front, and when you subtly roll your hips against his clothed length, he breaks into a cry.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ll come so soon,” you don’t know if it’s the adrenaline of the moment, but you’ve never witnessed such a bold Jeongguk. It only spurs you further, your hand traveling down, and down, until it sneaks under his sweater.

When you find his nipple, you playfully roll it between your pointer and thumb, his trembling body bucking up in an unstoppable urge, quiet whimpers working to keep his tone down. But you want to hear him scream under you, just as loud as you can feel his heart beating.

You bite your lip as your eyes drift downward, watching where your bodies meet in slow, teasing drags. His wide palms press into the cushions on either side of you, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip, and when you lift your gaze to meet his face again the delicious buzz pooling low in your stomach intensifies, your lips parting instinctively. A pretty blush creeps up his neck, painting his sharp jaw and cheekbones in shades of red, and his eyes, clouded, desperate, and burning with unfiltered need, lock onto you with a gaze that makes your knees weak even as you straddle him.

The simple grinding through the layers of clothing you still have on has you releasing whiny gasps in the air, his cock sliding torturously between your folds, and if you’re so affected by every shift you can hardly fathom what he must be feeling under you.

So you wonder out loud, voice rough the more you feel his stiff nipple under your fingertips, “How long since you’ve been touched properly, hm?”

His body hiccups, shaking with the barely contained lust, “Since— Since you last did, goldie.”

You coo, slowing down your movements and bringing your fingers to the hem of his jumper only to lift it and toss it behind you carelessly, “You’re so sensitive, aren't you?” At the view of his exposed chest, you can’t help roaming the expanse of it and feeling the tensing muscles under your skin, and by now you’re sure your panties must be ruined.

“Puh— please,” the plea is barely coherent, whispered out messily through high-pitched moans, but he begs again, “I wanna touch you too.”

“Then…” You let your hands speak for you, moving them to lead his own big ones to rest at your thighs, letting them drag up the curve of your ass. You’re impossibly close to his lips now, fanning against them, “Feel me, Gguk.”

Unable to resist, you fall forward and catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that struggles to find a rhythm, that has your tongues tangled in an uncoordinated dance, but that inevitably has you both humming loudly in an effort to almost devour each other, and his hands digging in your bare skin only force a gasp out of you.

In an impatient rush, you urge him to unclasp your bra, his unpractised and shaky fingers being joined by your experienced ones to finally free you from the tight confines, and as much as he wants to make kissing you a sport just to win every gold medal and break record after record, he can’t help separating from your lips with a wet sound to look down at your exposed breasts.

Jeongguk groans, and this time he doesn’t need you guiding him. It’s his own palms moving to cup you, and the innocent, light feather touch causes you to throw your head back and resume your slow grinding on top of him.

Both of you are panting messes, his moans significantly louder the more he gets to knead at your softness only to slice his thumb over your hardened nipples, the contrast making his brows furrow in hazed need, and when you arch your back into him he squeezes your tit to his mouth, eliciting a surprised wail from you.

Even when he gets closer, your sensitive nub engulfed by his swollen lips, he keeps looking up at you for approval with wide, teary eyes that beg for you to praise him. And with a hand gripping his wavy locks, you nod repeatedly for him to keep going, “Fuck, baby. Just like that, oh my God.”

He hums lowly with his mouth stuffed, his fingers digging in your flesh the more you drag your cunt mercilessly over the outline of his thickness, and he has to release you with a pop and rest his head on the couch behind him, palms keeping you somewhat still by the waist, panting out a desperate request when he feels himself throb dangerously close to his high, “G—Goldie, I can’t. Don’t— Don’t wanna cum like this.”

You lift your hips just enough for the both of you to whimper at the loss of friction, and you murmur through a string of kisses along his exposed neck, “How do you want to cum then, huh?”

He only whines, cheeks flushed with want and eyes glossy, forehead creasing with the way his brows are stressing, “Please.”

You show no mercy, flashing him with a wicked smirk and a teasing tilt of your head, “Ah-ah. Say it.”

Gulping with effort, his waist twitches up unconsciously to seek for your touch once again, and with his face turned to the side he admits in the smallest voice, “‘Nside of you.”

“Good boy. Gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He voices a loud cry just from the sound of your promise, only echoing more intensely when you hastily work at his zipper. It’s messy, uncertain, and it elicits breathy giggles from the two of you, drunk on adoration and high on desire.

Eventually, he’s stripped free from his confines, and his cock stands proud and hard, veins pumping the blood that has it throbbing against his toned stomach.

Jeongguk can feel your hooded eyes on him, can sense his tip wettening with the simple way you seem starved and eager to taste him, your hand coming too close to where he needs you the most before he gently grabs your wrist to stop it.

Automatically, your head snaps up, and the look on his face is one of nervous desperation, “Wan’ you to kiss me, please.”

You’re ready to comply to his every demand, and this one is as easy as it gets. You want to give him everything— whatever he wants, however he wants it.

Your lips mold with his in worldless acceptance, absorbing all you were afraid to voice to each other, making up for all the time you wasted, devoting to a sealed promise, the one that dances between your connected tongues, saliva making it wet and breathless.

Even more when your slim fingers trail down his torso before wrapping around his length, your wrist expertly flicking in a teasing touch, and his moan is unrestrained as it tears through the kiss. You swallow the sound greedily, steadying you against his chest rising and falling in frantic pants.

Before he can protest, his own hips bucking up in a silent beg for more, you steal the air from his lungs when you move your panties to the side and align your entrance with his tip, just to sink down on it.

The drag is slow and it has both of your eyes rolling back, pleased groans filling the air and straining against your throat when you fully sit yourself wrapped around his dick. You search for him, “You okay?”

“Shit,” Jeongguk seems hypnotised by the view of his thickness wrecking you in half, and his palms come to rest at your waist where his fingers dig into the skin. Your own playing with the hair on his nape only seem to make him more vulnerable, “This is perfect. You feel so good and warm, fuck.”

You’re not used to hearing him curse so openly and so often, and it naturally makes you giggle, the sound tickling his ears and leading his dilated pupils to look up at you through his lashes. Your sweet laughter fades into a lasting smile, one he can’t help but kiss, even if it’s all teeth, the contagious sight of your happiness getting to him too.

The moment is sickeningly sweet, bodies connected in more ways than one. With your kiss only deepening and your chest melting against his, you pull him impossibly closer by the back of his neck and start attempting slow motions on top of him.

You hear him through his thundering heartbeat, “Goldie… I— I don’t think I can last any longer, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Oh, shit, baby,” one particular shift has his length, deeply stuffed in your tight walls, finding your spot and teasing it with an electric buzz that travels through your body, “It’s okay. I’m so close too.”

The moment you try a firmier bounce and feel him find you again, you can’t help the way your movements fasten, your moans thick and low against your throat, his own louder and ricocheting through the walls.

You steady yourself with one of you palms on his thigh, leaning your weight back and finding a new angle to fuck yourself on him. He watches in awe as you work your fingers on your clit, rapid circling movements causing his mouth to hang open at the squelching sounds.

He pants, his wide hands guiding your riding, pushing you up and down, “Can— Can I touch you?”

You hum, but it sounds more like a whine, “Hm, of course, pretty boy,” the hand that was stimulating your sensitive nub now comes behind you to help support yourself on both of his muscular thighs, flexing under every shift.

Jeongguk is unpracticed as he leads his thumb to rest at your clit, applying a soft pressure and mimicking the same pattern he observed from you. He only seems to be focusing on his doing for the first few moments before he searches up for the reaction on your face, and he whimpers when he finds your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, your brows drawn up in pleasure.

You smile at the unconscious twitch of his chin, and give him just what you know he wants, “Always seeking my approval. You’re so good.”

The simple praise only has him working on you with more confidence, collecting some of your wetness and sliding it up along your lips. He learns fast, listening to your every sound and centering on your pleasure, as best as he can with his own knot getting closer to bursting.

You’re clearly affected by the simulations, your hips stuttering and riding around him, but you still make sure to concentrate on him first, “I’ll tell you when to cum, hm? You’ll listen to me, right?”

Jeongguk nods before he even knows what he’s agreeing to, “Y—yes. Yes, yes, fuck. I’ll be good. Wanna be so, so good for you. Wanna c—cum for you.”

“You’re so filthy, baby. Naughty boy. Fuck me.”

His hips meet you up with harsh thrusts that have you lose your balance on him, and you can only throw yourself with your arms around his broad shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck as he lets his desire take over, fucking up into you with a desperate need for release.

You think you see stars with the way he relentlessly pounds your hole, wet folds sliding along his length and causing a mess between you, his own slickness mixed with yours trailing down and pooling at the base. The sounds are inglorious, and they merge perfectly with your wails.

Breathing in his scent, you know he’s close from the way his thrusts are stammering sloppily, and his moans are closer to strained whines. You concede, “F—Fucking cum, Gguk. Cum inside me, fuck.”

He nods, slamming you down to meet his movements, desperate to feel you before he can stop himself, “Cum with me, pleas— Oh.”

When your walls spasm around him with your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, causing you to shake in his embrace around you, he feels himself cum unannounced, hard and thick, sprouts of white liquid relentlessly pumping inside your warmth.

You milk him dry, both your wails drained with the effort and fading into breathless gasps, his arms around you falling limply at his sides. You’re sprawled on his chest, emptied from any energy, and he is just as spent with his head lolling against the back of the couch.

But you feel it in your heartbeats syncing, the realization of what happened, what finally happened. You feel it in his face moving down to find your lips and catch them in a sweet peck, his fingers trailing up again to trace lazy patterns on your back before tangling in your hair, grounding himself in you.

It’s your own smiles breaking through the kiss, lashes tickling, and both of you laugh senselessly as you come down from the moment.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk breathes out, voice raspy, “This was the best Christmas gift ever.”

You snicker, biting your lip to hold back your amusement, “Oh, baby. It was just an excuse to fuck you. I actually did forget your gift at home.”

“W—What?” His brows shoot up, his post-orgasm haze momentarily replaced with incredulity as his cheeks redden even more.

When Jeongguk straightens on the couch, so do you, steadying your weak frame with your hands splayed against his chest. Sheepishly, you confess, “Yeah. Bought you that Mario game yo—“

“Princess Peach: Showtime?”

“Yea—”

Jeongguk gasps dramatically, his excitement so pure it’s almost jarring considering what just transpired, and that he’s no longer a virgin, “God, I fucking love— that game. That is the best Christmas gift ever.”

You can’t hold back your laughter this time, shaking your head at how easily he slips back into his usual self, the one that had you buying a Victoria’s Secret set in that shade of burgundy he said he didn’t like just to attempt a crazy chance at having him.

Leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss to his lips that brings you back to the realization that you finally did get to have him, before murmuring against them, “Well, that and a second round. What do you say?”

“Please.”

[pikavani]

What an incredible year it has been! It’s been a whirlwind of turbulence and excitement, but through it all, I’ve grown so much as an artist. I’m beyond grateful to be part of such an amazing community and fandom.

This year, I had the privilege of meeting some truly wonderful friends and discovering even more inspiring art mutuals. Each connection has brought so much joy and inspiration into my life, and I can’t thank you enough for being part of this journey with me.

As we step into a new year, I can’t wait to see what’s ahead—more creativity, more connections, and hopefully, more opportunities to share this passion with all of you.

Wishing you all the happiest of holidays! May your days be filled with love, warmth, and inspiration.

With love and best regards,

Pika 💛

[simp-ly-writes]

To Be Someone To You

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.8)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You started your new life, got a new job and making new friends yet it seemed no matter how hard you tried to forget about him- Jayce's presence always lingered in your life and it seems that even he himself is not ready or willing to be out of it- he begs you not to be stranger, we only want to be someone to you.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective! jealous! grovelling! Jayce, some emotional angst but a LOAD of fluff (potentially cheesy) and mutual pining, kissing, teasing, sharing clothes, intoxication, a side-OC, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,814 | PART ONE | PREV PART | NEXT PART

─ · · A/N: THEY ARE JUST SO UGH, I NEED IT- PLEASE 😩‼️

─────── · ·

─ · · The carriage continued down the road and into a neighbouring region. You were shocked to see various members of the local guard awaiting your presence and helping you out of the carriage before leading you towards their parliament buildings. To your equal shock people waved and smiled once seeing you, what the hell did Jayce do now? You ask yourself standing in front of the prime ministers desk. "We have been expecting your arrival Miss (last/name). Councillor Talis had informed us..." you zoned out for the rest of his speech nodding along until Ximena Talis squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality, "...we have a few professors and scholars in the area that would love to work with you if you are interested Miss?"

You smile and nod, "I would love to take that opportunity, thank you." An assistant suddenly comes in running, "this way, ma'am," they lead out of the office and back out onto the street, pointing you in the direction of the university before the parliament doors shut behind you and seemingly on your old life.

─────── · ·

─ · · In the next coming days that turned into weeks you worked alongside Evren, a professor and active researcher at the local university as his new lab and teaching assistant. It felt great to meet new people, be back in the lab space, and to see all of Evren's students, you loved your new position getting to work with the next generation of scientists and develop their skills yet it always surprised you how excited they were to talk with and learn from you.

─ · · You could scoff remembering your first day sitting in Evrens' office as he walked you through the learning material and basic questions students commonly asked that you could filter for him. You were beyond anxious to mess something up or to have a hoard of students calling after you yet Evren only taught the upper years and from having such small classes he really only needed you to grade work and developing new material with him.

─ · · Evren always made sure you were comfortable and confident before leaving you with the students or in the lab when he had to take a step away. He even helped you to move in to your's and Xiema's new apartment and bought a wine bottle for you all to share while building furniture (class was cancelled that next morning as you all stayed up way too late laughing and sharing stories).

"Do you know I was married for a year?" he asks you, cheeks flushed red from the booze in his system as he fixed his glasses- an anxious tick. "No way, really?" you asked, leaning forwards in your seat with wide eyes as Xiema scoffed mentioning she was heading to bed as you two waved her goodbye for the night. "Yeah, high school sweetheart turned out not so... sweet. Stole all my work and designs I had yet to publish."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Evren," you say, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he shrugs, fixing his curly brown hair. "Well," he begins in a matter-of-factly tone, "I actually thanked her for doing so since I came up with a better idea the next week." You throw your head back laughing as his dry commentary, your heart racing remembering how Viktor used to talk to you like this. You face soon falls remembering the man Viktor connected himself to... Jayce.

"Hey, everything alright?" Evren's face falls, green eyes looking into yours with concern as you pull away and look distantly through the window. "Just... remembering past things," you try and move conversation, feeling anger, pain, and sadness starting to boil underneath your skin the more you think about it. "Favourite book?" Evren asks into the dead air as you look at him with relief for not asking any further questions- he seems to silently understand what you were going through internally and you were thankful for it.

"Asking all the hard questions aren't you now," you tease before burying yourself into the blankets on the couch as he throws you a pillow, "don't fall asleep on me now-" Evren begins to say seeing you ready to doze off. A wave of deja vu flashes over you and see Jayce's eyes looking into your own before blinking them away to see green again. Evren now looks exceptionally concerned, "I wasn't going to press earlier but I am worried about you, friend."

You smile at the term, something you both established at the beginning as many of the students "shipped" you two together. "I just hate that I miss him. Hate that I always check the death lists coming from Piltover- wait to see his name as they study corpse after corpse. I just feel disgusted with myself for..." you fail to continue your sentence, confused as to what to say next.

The thought of Jayce Talis made your heart race and equally ache, he made your blood boil and yet when you flipped through one of the few journals you packed, you broke down at the messages and jokes he wrote to you in the margins, you couldn't help but cry for everything you had lost. You swore to see him sometimes between the ailes of bookshelves in the library, at the market, or out of the corner of your eye. But when you would walk closer, you would either just walk right through the mist of him or just blink him away like another fleeting thought.

You were bitter towards that fact as you regretted your final moments together. You knew your feelings were in the right but looking back, you would have made the same choices that Jayce did. Trying to play into that fantasy future you both could have had for as long as possible... knowing the inevitable. Giving yourself that peace to enjoy every moment no matter how short as if nothing could come in between you both. It pained you with want just pleading with your past self to step back into that council room and just hold him, go against your pain and your anger and just have lived a little moment longer.

Evren holds out his hand and seeing that you don't take it he gently flicks the side of your head, "It's okay to be frustrated. You hate them because you loved them once, nothings wrong with working through emotions at our own pace."

"Thank you Evren... I really needed to hear that," you respond, closing your heavy eyes. "Goodnight, (name)," he whispers before you hear the door lock closed behind you for the night.

─────── · ·

─ · · Your daily schedule continued as it usually did yet today felt different and the title of todays paper only concerted that, 'councillors working together to build stronger cities'. Piltover and Zaun were combining resources to rebuild- your heart ached remembering this is what Viktor and Jayce worked so hard towards... and now they wouldn't be able to see their vision finally coming to life. Near the end of the newspaper it noted that the final list of the deceased would be out by the end of the week, and still not sights on the name Jayce Talis.

─ · · You stumbled into Evrens office later that day holding coffees for you both as you apologized for being late, the shock of the headlines still ringing through your head, "shit sorry I'm late, did you get a chance to read the news yet- its crazy I never thought this day would..." you slowly stop talking once not hearing Evren respond, hanging up your jacket over his as he stares at you, leaning against a windowsill with an apologetic look on his face before walking over and pulling you in for small hug.

You pat his back, "bad day already?" you mumble with a slight groan not looking forwards to it. You feel Evren shake his head before another voice clears their throat from behind you both. You feel as Evren jumps in your arms before he pulls away and grips your shoulders, forcing you not to look just yet. "I promise you that I had no idea, if I had I would have screened you first and this was not my choice and-"

You take a deep breath before looking over and your heart drops seeing... "Jayce?" sitting behind Evrens desk glaring at the other mans hold on you before catching your eyes and smiling anxiously. You can feel the world slow, your vision tunnelling to his smile and the shake in his hands he tries to hide by holding them together. Blinking away tears, as he slowly nods and stands, you hold out your hand, silently asking him to stay in his spot. "Am I seeing things, Ev?" you ask in a small voice, unsure.

Evren takes his time to respond, "that is Councillor Talis," he confirms before starting to move out of the room to give you both space yet you reach out and grip his hand for support. You look at Evren, "thank you, I'll be in lecture soon." He nods, giving your hand a squeeze and shuts the door softly behind himself.

"I know you must be confused but please allow me to explain-" Jayce begins before you cut him off with a heated glare. "No, Councillor Talis. You will fucking listen to me when I say you shouldn't be here after what you did to me. You said you were going to die, going to leave me, and yet you have the audacity to stand before me and plead?" You watch as Jayce's expression falls, his shoulders dropping as his head lowers apologetically, shuffling on the spot as if you kicked a puppy- your heart aches and you only become more frustrated.

"No Councillor you don't deserve to be moping around after the utter shit you pulled trying to play hero. I won't thank you, won't get on my knees and worship you- no. Do you understand how many nights I held myself sobbing to sleep, thought to see you- to hear you, desperate to feel you?" you are vibrating with anger, electricity flowing through your veins power by the passion in your heart.

"I do understand," Jayce's tone is firm, a warning to your heart for what is to come. You watch as he walks over and stands before you, his head tilting down and cocking to the side as he looks over your features distantly with dark eyes- you hate yourself for blushing.

"When I got stuck in the rune, I was forced to see your dead body before you consumed my every. waking. thought. It was your voice that called me back to you, that allowed me not to feel the pain in my leg, the ache in my ribs from starving. The thought of your touch against my body propelled by every step. I didn't stop- wouldn't stop until I knew you were safe... and you know what happened afterwards," Jayce allows a smirk to form across his features once seeing you subconsciously bite the inside of your cheek before taking a few steps back as you let out a breath you didn't know to be holding.

You walk after him as Jayce moves to leave against the desk. You stand in front of him before slapping him straight across the face. Jayce flexes his jaw, licking away the taste of iron building in his mouth. He looks back at you with wide, remorseful eyes and press lips- your blood boils, "I fucking hate your face."

"Mhmm?" Jayce hums, imploring you to continue getting your anger out. You take a step closer, standing in between his legs as you grip the lapels to his coat, knuckles turning white, "I hate that I'll always listen to everything you say and desire your touch. Hate that I still care about you, that I still want you. I hate myself! Hate my weak heart and yet I still let you have it- I fucking hate that I can't move on. Can't function a day without thinking to see you. I HATE YOU- hate that I love you, Jayce!" You punch and sob into his chest, utterly tried and longing for him to comfort you in a way no one else could as large warm palms hold you closely and tightly to his chest.

His beard tickles the top of your head, ruining your styled hair and yet you can't find it in yourself to care about anything. You feel sick with yourself for almost moaning when he kisses the side of your head and hums his apologies into your hear. You are embarrassed with yourself as you shake your face into the crook of his neck.

"I'll do anything for you to be mine again... and if you can't accept that just yet or even ever... I just want to be someone to you- just not strangers, never strangers... please," Jayce begs, squeeze your hips once feeling you starting to pull away but letting go once seeing your puffy eyes mirroring his own.

"I would say yes to everything now, Jayce. But I know that wouldn't be good for either of us knowing what happened last time," you explain as Jayce lowers his head into a nod, "I love you," he speaks softly.

"I know, I know," you respond, taking a deep breath before picking up your notes and learning material, "and thats why you are going to leave me alone for awhile... just so we both can sort though ourselves and come back with clearer minds." Jayce chuckles a little, "what part of me do you need a clearer image on, sweetheart?" he teases watching as you groan and huff your way to the door.

"Goodbye, Jayce," you twist open the doorknob only to feel a hand on your shoulder, holding your movements, "not goodbye- never again," Jayce says while looking into your eyes sternly. You raise your chin, "of course.... see you later then?" you try and say yet it comes out more like a question. Jayce smiles, your heart skips a beat, "better, see you later," he leans forwards to kiss you but ends up kiss air as you flee down the hallway smiling to yourself. Jayce sighs, watching as you turn down the hall and out of sight, back to square one.

─────── · ·

─ · · You feel bad that Evren paused the class as soon as you appeared, checking over your face and telling you to spin three times to ensure you were a-okay. The rest of the students fell into a hysteria and all you wanted was for his lesson to continue and for life to move on. "I'll beat of that councillor if you need me to miss!" "Would you ever consider going back?" "If he were ugly he wouldn't have gotten away with all of the shit he pulled!"

"Silence!" Evren ordered as everyone fell back into their seats and reopened their journals, you looked towards your friend with thanks, seating yourself beside him as you finished marking the papers before you, inputting the grades into your tables to help take your mind away. The class went by more quickly than you thought once zoning out, "how about a nice long lunch break this afternoon?" Evren asks, holding out your coat with a smile.

"Is coffee included?" you ask, offering a small smile watching as his grows, "of course it is."

─────── · ·

─ · · "So tell me, am I going to have to hire another assistant?" Evren asks, stirring the sugar in his coffee while watching your expression tick with annoyance. "I'm not jumping his bones as soon as I see him, at least not again after thinking him to be dead." Evren kicks his feet in laughter, the table jumping with the movement as you kick his shin, mumbling for your friend to, shut the hell up.

"I mean... I would jump his bones. Did you see that oxford shirt?" Evren groans, twirling his non-existent long hair as you roll your eyes. "And here I thought you had my back?"

"I do! I do, but after him threatening me... I think I questioned my sexuality-"

"WHAT?" it was your turn to yell as other cafe-goers looked between the two of you in question. You sunk down into your chair, embarrassed yet eyes demanding to know the answer as you took a sip of your coffee. Evren regretted his words not wanting to stress you out further but every time he would try and change conversation... you would only ask him again.

"Well... I think someone told him the wrong information about our relationship. I walked into my office not expecting anyone yet as I sorted through our schedule on the board and then next thing I knew a hand was being clamped down on my shoulder, the other on my hand in a tight shake..." Evren continued to recall the story of their interaction with Jayce who appeared to "size him up-" you scoffed.

"...and then he said to me," Evren lowers his tone watching as you shake your head at him, "...'I've killed gods and came back from the dead. If I hear that you've done anything against her- know that there isn't a place on this planet I won't be able to find you'."

"He said that?" you ask to confirm- Evren nods his head, chuckling, "He was so jealous saying it- I would have laughed if I wasn't so scared shitless."

"Oh god," you sigh out.

"Oh Jayce!" Evren mocks... whatever we're you going to do?

─────── · ·

─ · · It had been a few weeks since you had last seen Jayce. He had been sending flowers to your apartment with little notes attached that you kept in a box underneath your bed. Jayce also donated a very generous amount of money to your universities department and event sent service people to help fix your leaking sink and shower.

─ · · Jayce was very conscious about keeping physical space between the two of you just like you had asked. Even though it pained him listening to you talk in lecture as he stood at the back of the hall and when he stared down at the tattoo on his arm.

─ · · Everyday was a new challenge for you both not running to one another- it posed a new hurt that you both needed to feel mutually as you jotted down what you wanted out of your future the next time you both were to talk. Jayce on the other hand swirled your ring between his thumb and index finger, reminiscing on past dreams that if he waited just long enough could become his future.

─ · · Jayce always made sure to tell you when he was headed back to Piltover and for how long he would be gone since he was still needed at the Council as they rebuilt the cities and reestablished their trade routes and partners. As a parting gift, he offered you a shirt of his or left his jacket behind somewhere in your apartment when you were out a work and he visited his mother. Evren would also laugh when seeing you practically live out of the large jacket as you glared at him, daring him to say anything.

─ · · In one of his attached notes to a new pair of boots from the Zaun cobbler you liked he noted down Viktor's final words to you and worried for your letter back. You thankfully took the information well... or at least he couldn't see any tear stained pages or furiously written text, just thoughtfully exposed words in a mature understanding of the events. A part of you did wonder for a moment what a future with Viktor would have been like before realizing you both argued more than you agreed on things and the little moments you both shared were only possible because of meeting Jayce... Jayce, your heart heart longs for... and how could you refuse his affection when you wanted him just as much?

─────── · ·

─ · · A part of you was worried that your presence and relationship with Jayce was keeping him away from spending time with his mom but when you and Evren came back from the bar one night totally hammered, your drunken self was almost made sober by the shock of seeing Jayce open your front door for you once hearing you struggle with your keys.

"Had a good night there, sweetheart?" he asks in a loving and equally teasing tone as you fall into his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Wow, you're really here! Hey handsome," you giggle, feeling as his back muscles flex as he holds you up in his arms. Evren mumbles something about heading into your kitchen but all your groggy mind can think about is pawing at Jayce.

You stand on your toes, trying to kiss him. Jayce remembers your words of wanting space and moves his head to the side, your soft lips fall upon his beard with a huff, "mean! I wanted to kisss you since I misss you~" you slur your words together, suddenly becoming interested in your glimmering heels in comparison to Jayce's dress shoes, "I love how much bigger you are to me, always so warm and huggable," you giggle, feeling giddy with yourself before stepping away and running after Evren, "Ev! you should really get a hug from Jayce! He gives the best hugs!"

Evren picks his head up, eyes squinting to the dim kitchen lights to look at you and Jayce who watches your every moment, hands extended and ready to catch you as you wobble on the tiled floors and towards the fridge in search of a snack, oooh apples!

You turn around, fridge slamming behind you in search of a cutting board and blade. Jayce's heart drops as he wraps his arms from behind you, gently taking the knife from you and doing the job for you.

You lean your head back, smiling softly at the man before you- touching his clenched jaw with fascination, "you trimmed your beard, it looks good."

"Thank you," Jayce smiles before presenting you the plate. Removing himself from your touch as he looks around to hide the knife from you. "Are you sober enough to get home? Or should I put a fire on in the living room?" Evren points at himself as Jayce nods, "yes, you."

"I've been sober the whole time to watch over that one," Evren points over to you as you wave cheerfully back, snacking on your apple slices and offer one to him in which he accepts. "None for me?" Jayce teases as you shake your head, "No," you state coldly. Evren laughs, "You ready to get to bed?" he asks you.

You look between Evren and Jayce, "Get your mind out of the gutter," he shoves your shoulder as you laugh, pushing Evren on his back as he pretends to stumble over into the wall, "if you start shoving me, I may just have to report you to the dean," he teases as you narrow your eyes. Jayce crosses his arms watching as you two rile one another up. "You wouldn't dare!" you point your finger in his face.

Evren puts his palms up and shrugs, "Hey, I know that you're leaving by the end of the year anyways- what difference would a few months make?" He asks looking over at Jayce expectedly.

Your gaze also turns towards Jayce, eyes softening as you fall into his side. Jayce holds your upright, thumb gently rubbing the side of your arm. "Are you saying I can't hold a grudge?" you ask, feeling as Jayce fixes your hair our of your face.

"Well, I was trying not to say it like that-" you scoff as Evren treats you with a deadpan stare looking between you and Jayce expectantly. "This means nothing right now," you say, wrapping Jayces arm around your front and playing with his fingers. Jayce stiffens staring down at you yet you look forwards- having a silent conversation with Evren who sighs, "okay, goodnight you two. I can trust you to make sure she makes it to the couch, right?"

"Of course," Jayce says, squeezing you against him for a moment as you smile and wave goodbye to your friend, listening to the door close behind him before stepping out of his touch. "Did you... really mean that?" Jayce asks, not expecting a confident answer since you still appear under the influence.

"No, just had to stick it to him," Jayce chuckles before saying something he hopes you will not remember in the morning, "I miss you, so much... I just want you back but I'll wait... forever if I have to but I'll always live with hope." You look at Jayce for a long moment before heading towards your bedroom. Jayce stands there in the kitchen wondering if you even heard him before hearing your voice whisper-shout down the hall.

"I miss you too... I just want to make sure its more than that first."

─────── · ·

─ · · In the morning you her Xiema in the kitchen, the local news radio ringing through the apartment as you groan and place a pillow over your head, I really have to start saying no to nights out, I'm getting to old for this feeling...

─ · · You startle at the sound of a knock at your door, but Xiema's in the kitchen? Jayce sighs from behind the door, gently opening the door but not looking in as he calls to you, "Morning sweetheart, my mom told me to come and wake you up. Evren wrote in saying you both were..." Jayce contains a laugh, ""sick" this morning." You mumble something incoherent that Jayce only picks up the end of, "...come here."

─ · · Jayce opens your door fully before walking over to your bedside and crouching down to look at your face as you smile at him lazily. Pulling your hand from underneath the covers to hold his cheek, feeling as he nuzzles into your touch- closing his eyes as he drinks in the moment not knowing when the next time would come... if ever, he feels his heart drop as you watch his expression become pained. Guilt gnaws at your chest as you roll yourself over underneath the covers before patting at the empty spot.

Jayce opens his eyes, eyebrow raised as if to confirm. You nod your head and extend your hands to welcome his warmth to your side, intertwining your legs together as you rest your head on his arm and press a kiss to his chin, "I love you," your murmur, not confident enough to look at him in your soberness with the confession.

Jayce gently tips your head back in his direction, his other hand massages your thigh as you hum at the feeling while looking into his eyes filled with nothing short of pure adoration, "I love you too, princess."

You swat his chest before trying to crawl away, "no! you don't get to say that!" you yell into your pillow, holding it to your face once feeling his heavy arms wrap around your torso, touch calling you back to him. "Say what? princess?" he teases, purposefully using his groggy morning voice while taking away your pillow- you kick your feet. "Stop it," you huff, hair sticking up in all positions as you sit up and glare at him watching as his arm flexes from behind his head as he looks up at you, "I love watching your cheeks flush for me."

Your jaw drops as you are at a loss for words, "Jayce-" you warn feeling your heart rapidly beating in your chest. "I love hearing my name from between your lips." You throw yourself out of bed, "and I love you in my clothes."

"This is too much now, Jayce!" you plead for mercy (though you love it) as you run out down the hall and towards the kitchen as Jayce chases after you. "Morning Xiema!" you chime watching as she turns around to see Jayce hugging you form behind with a large smile that matches her own, "Good morning to you both, now who I made a few options..."

─ · · You all sit at the kitchen table together, passing food and the coffee pot. Jayce places an arm over the back of your chair, playing with your hair as you look apologetically towards his mom who just smiles brightly seeing you both together again.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: thinkin' 2 more chapters? 🤔 or... idk, I love these two together so much but I don't want to over do it! 😅

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123

[enden-k]

short story summary here, again

im including some of my old, traditional art of the og comic i drew years ago to the recent ones BWAHHAH

[the nobody] vindrael lyndis

age: around 23 in human years

height: ~163cm

species: high elf

the protag. vin was born in a small village in the kingdom of Morgana. hes a high elf, a species that is known for their intelligence and masters of the summoning arts. all elven species are known to be very tall and ethereal and beautiful; they are born with both sets of reproductive organs and are not assigned a gender at birth (going agender by default) until they choose it themselves if they wish to do so. vin identifies as male. unlike the average high elf, vin is much shorter and bland looking which troubled him all his life. he was and is often overlooked by others as he doesnt stand out. to make up for that, he possesses extreme intelligence and a talent for the summoning arts much surpassing an average high elf. he studied and worked extremely hard and became one of the greatest summoners in the kingdom until the king himself ordered him to the court to make him his personal summoner. the king was the first ever person who truly noticed and praised him for his talents and vin started to develop feelings of romantic nature. when he learned of the betrayal, hes even more shocked and hurt than titus. he failed to see the kings change and manipulation due to his feelings clouding his eyes and mind and it shook him deeply. he comes off as timid and polite but has actually quite the temper and bad mouth. he overthinks a lot and is always stressed and on the verge of losing it. despite his rational thinking, he tends to act impulsively when hes teased and messed with too much. everyone else in their group is crazy strong and op and vin often feels like he doesnt fit in there, constantly doubting his worth and powers. he often envies others and its a trait he hates about himself; he envies zydonia specifically for the confidence he wishes he had himself. after the kings betrayal, vin feels extremely lost and insecure in the world and latches onto titus as his new meaning of life. he puts his well-being over his own, considering it to be his duty to his prince, and would follow him everywhere even if he often gets upset with titus rash decisions and empty head. titus considers them best friends and treats them both as equals but vin still treats him as a prince, putting some distance between them. only when zydonia makes him learn to prioritize his own needs and well-being and stop putting titus on a pedestal does vin grow more secure and their friendship truly turns into a warm and mutual, equal one.

[the worlds enemy] zerevni-ir yggdra dragonya ova-akhyn nggdragryl i-ihm avna (Z Y D O N I A)

age: in human years around late 20s/early 30s estimate

height: ~194cm

species: goldhorn dragon

the last dragon of his kind. a jailed king with no clan to rule anymore. the dragons are mythical beings living "above the world" and are divided into 4 clans; the goldhorns, the whitetails, the redclaws and the blackscales. each clan possesses a unique ability, ancient magic, which is passed down from king to king. the goldhorns magic is restorative, healing; the ancient magic is "resurrection" zydonia is not of royal blood. he was a common dragon and had loving parents. due to a tragic event caused by his carelessness as a child when he barely learned how to fly, he fell off the edge of the world to the mortal realm, broke his left horn and lost his parents when they tried to retrieve and protect his dying form from human hunters who were attracted by his fall. bc of his broken horn, zydonia lost a part of his dragon powers and his dragon form, turning into a much smaller, humanoid form. his parents death set off his berserker mode, a state a dragon goes in when overwhelmed by intense emotions and unleashing their powers in an extremely mass destructive burst. zydonias wrath was the most powerful and destructive anyone has ever witnessed and it led to him unintentionally wiping out the entire region. the goldclaws were attracted by his powers and came to the rescue; he was healed and brought back by the king who adopted him as his own son, fascinated by his powers and potential. despite his lost dragon form, the dragons still considered him as one of their own. even when he took over his deceased adoptive father and became king, he was loved and respected. he inherited the clans magic but is unable to use it bc of his broken horn, making him a flawed and unworthy king in the eye of another, specific dragon clan who soon came up with a plan to get their claws on his magic, murder him and take over (leaving this all out so this wont get any longer than it already is) back to the present, he was jailed in a dungeon when he got careless and was eventually busted out by titus and the others. ofc his jailbreak didnt go unnoticed and soon hes wanted all across the lands since hes considered a threat to the world due to the annihilation of an entire region when he was a kid a long long time ago; his powers as a grown dragon are much more destructive now and he possesses just one horn. he made a deal with titus; helping him grow strong and stop his father in exchange for busting him out of the dungeon and helping him find his lost horn to regain his form and powers. zydonia is very proud and confident and shameless. he comes off as easygoing, seeking amusement and always speaking his mind, no matter how naughty or "unkingly" it might be. despite his behavior, he still carries himself with a kings aura so its pretty clear he has royal manners and knows how to behave. he simply chooses not to, for the fun of it. hes stronger and more powerful than anyone else but does not brag about it and rather teaches the others how to "suck less" and get better. he only steps into fights when he knows the enemy is outclassing the others. zydonia has his eyes set on vin and loves to banter and tease. it seems he prefers people who dont like him at first and are not afraid to be honest and speak rudely to him.

[the failed prince] titus von morganastatt

age: 21 years

height: 187cm

species: human

the failed 2nd prince of Morgana. he had an older brother who he loved dearly and a onesided relationship to his father; his father neglected him a lot and didnt pay him much attention, rather favoring his brother aris who was way smarter and more capable than titus. his brother always tried to shield him from their father, willing to take on all the royal duties so titus could have a much more innocent childhood without his fathers sharp eyes and strict hand. its why titus never had to bother much with politics, diplomacy or all the "paperwork" that comes, only focusing on honing his body and eager to fight exciting battles. he doesnt understand much of such things and his father regards him as stupid and not capable to follow into his footsteps and run a country like the strict king he is himself. when aris died, it destroyed both titus and his father. unlike titus tho, his father let the grief consume and corrupt him and soon he started to plan to sacrifice his remaining son to zydonia to resurrect aris, offering a hundreds bodies for the magic to work, including vin and bell who were accompanying titus. he wasnt aware tho that zydonia is unable to use the ancient magic bc of his broken horn. titus was already aware that his father had some wicked plans and knowing for certain now makes him want to stop and save him. he pretends to be dead and starts a new life, learning how to be a proper king unlike his father and growing stronger so he can confidently return to his home and face him and end whatever he started. titus is a very purehearted and kind prince; always believing in the good of people even if someone wronged or insulted him. hes naive and a little dumb at times and always needs a bit to fully understand things. he admires vin a lot bc of his intelligence and considers him his best friend since he always stuck around him. he also looks up to zydonia and learns a lot from him, both useless and useful things in all kind of matters. when he becomes king later on, a lot of the way he handles things is how he learned from watching zydonia since hes also a king.

[the assassin] bell

age: 22 years

height: 168cm

species: human

originally hailing from an assassin clan, she was ordered to join the royal army as an undercover knight and assassinate the royal family. however, she was assigned to titus own knights and when they met, they immediately became friends. just like titus, bell is chaotic and easygoing. the way she talks might be considered rude which is smth titus finds amusing and refreshing. she behaves very bold and doesnt care what others think. when they make their deal with zydonia bell is the first who announces she will follow titus and "beat the kings ass". she was ordered to assassinate the family but after becoming friends with titus, she doesnt want to carry out that order. the clan always kept her in the shadows and theres many things she wasnt allowed to do or enjoy; titus, vin and zy are her first friends and she decides to follow their light and do the things she wants and not what is expected of her. so, pretending to have died in that dungeon is also freeing her and allowing her to live a life she always wanted. bell is really strong (both physically and verbally) and skilled; shes often considered to have "bad manners" but doesnt care how others think of her. she doesnt hesitate to kick someones ass if theyre becoming annoying. shes perceptive and a quick thinker but still a bit silly at times. she and zydonia share the same chaotic energy and combined they definitely destroy vins nerves in record time.

[tillsfan]

a dive into Till’s feelings regarding Ivan and Mizi!

ivantill’s whole thing is being INSANELY complicated. i am a full on believer that they have mutual (unrealized) feelings, but i think the word “love” is definitely too vague to properly describe what they have. vivinos said a “deep LOVE/HATE” relationship for a reason.

i think till both genuinely feeling love for ivan yet hating him at the same time is absolutely reasonable. ivan has pushed and pulled till his whole life. till never felt secure near ivan, as much as he cares about him. but, ivan was always there. till felt comfort with ivan’s presence despite the lack of security he gave. till heavily valued ivan’s opinion, getting upset when ivan implied he didn’t see till as a friend. he trusted ivan enough to attempt to run away with him, and he potentially would have spent the rest of his life with ivan if they actually escaped.

i while love mutual love ivantill as much as the next guy, saying their feelings were 100% romantic is wrong. their emotions towards one another being so raw is something that defines them, which is why it’s difficult to put their mutual feelings into a specific box.

another thing we need to take into account is that neither of them know what love really is. they inhabit a world that isn’t MEANT for humans to love. they were never taught what love is and how to feel it. this is part of the reason they could never develop properly. they live in a world where the concept of romance and relationships aren’t properly established between humans.

but, i do believe like they could’ve had a chance under different circumstances. they were a slowburn that was never able to properly develop because, again, they lived in a world that didn’t allow them to, and they both ruined things for themselves. ivan had a huge tendency to self sabotage because of his severely low self esteem. he convinced himself that his feelings were shallow, and projected that onto till through his actions, confusing and distressing the latter. in addition, till was avoidant of the reality in front of him, ivan. due to till feeling such a lack of security with ivan, and never being able to understand ivan, he avoided intimacy with him altogether. till also just has a fear of intimacy in general. there was a significant amount of miscommunication between both parties.

in addition, saying that till didn’t love mizi is just. false. he dedicated all of his life to her, she was literally his muse. he loved her in his own way, even if he had to put her on a pedestal to do so. yes, he didn’t know anything about her as a person, but that doesn’t mean his feelings weren’t real. saying he never truly loved her undermines so much of his character.

mizi was till’s coping mechanism, yes. he adored her from a distance. he liked the idea of her and not her as an individual, but that doesn’t make his feelings any less real. he loved and cared for her. we saw how torn he was after mizi disappeared in round 5. he almost DIED because of his grief, before ivan ‘saved’ him. his feelings towards her were as authentic as they could be for someone who kept everyone at a distance.

while you could say till’s love for mizi isn’t inherently romantic, the same can be said for ivantill. nothing stated in the patreon confirmed what EXACTLY till felt towards mizi besides her being a fantastical figure to him. and his “love” towards ivan doesn’t HAVE to be romantic (even though i believe it is), it could very much be platonic. vivinos is purposefully vague with what kind of love each character feels because, as i said, feelings aren’t something that can be properly established in this universe.

hope u guys enjoyed my rant Yay 🌹

[piastrisun]

warming up to love.

pairings: franco colapinto + fem reader.

summary: beneath the falling snow, the warmth of a shared moment transforms a casual connection into something unforgettable.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 3.6k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: i love writing long stuff about franco cause we know he’s a very talkative guy and would pull a before sunrise any day. this kinda made me wanna fall in love.

“oh, the weather outside is frightful / but the fire is so delightful / and since we've no place to go / let it snow.”

the christmas party hums with a mellow energy as the night winds down. it’s a familiar scene—mutual friends scattered across the house, the remnants of shared laughter echoing softly. you hadn’t planned to come this year; after all, these gatherings had long been a minefield of awkward encounters and unspoken wounds. your ex, the one who shattered your heart last christmas, always seemed to be at these parties, and the thought of facing him again was enough to make you steer clear.

but tonight is different. encouraged by a friend who insisted it would be ‘good for you,’ you found yourself here, hovering on the edges, nursing a glass of mulled wine by the fireplace. franco is here, too—franco, who has always been little more than a polite nod or a quick ‘hi.’ the two of you aren’t close, not even friends, really. yet as the evening stretches on, you find his presence more noticeable than usual, his laughter drawing glances from across the room.

most of the guests have either slipped away to spare rooms or are scattered in half-asleep clusters, the laughter and music now a faint echo in the house. you sit near the fireplace, nursing a mug of mulled wine, its spicy warmth a small comfort against the chill outside. the flickering flames cast golden light over the room, and you sink into the soft cushions of the couch, grateful for the moment of solitude.

until franco joins you.

you hear him before you see him, the faint sound of his footsteps against the hardwood floor. all evening, he’s been the centre of attention—his jokes landing perfectly, his energy magnetic, his laughter infectious. but now, as he lowers himself onto the couch beside you, he’s different. his movements are slower, deliberate, as though he’s shedding the playful bravado for something more genuine. he leans back, draping one arm casually over the backrest, close enough for you to feel his presence without it pressing on you.

“you’ve been sitting here for a while,” he says, his voice quieter than you expect, his accent rolling over the words with a natural charm. “thinking deep holiday thoughts?”

you glance at him, arching a brow, already on guard. “oh, you know, debating whether santa’s elves have a decent union.”

a grin spreads across his face, quick and easy. “they don’t,” he replies, leaning slightly toward you, his dark eyes sparkling in the firelight. “you can see it in their eyes—overworked, underpaid, stuck making toys for kids who’ll forget about them in five minutes.”

the corners of your mouth lift before you can stop yourself, the response catching you off guard. “exactly,” you say, meeting his gaze for a beat longer than you intended. “and don’t even get me started on rudolph. classic case of workplace exploitation.”

his laugh is rich, low, and unrestrained, and for a moment, it drowns out the crackle of the fire. “you’re good,” he says, his grin lingering. “sharp. i like that.”

you shrug, trying to deflect the sudden focus on you. “it’s just common sense. someone has to advocate for the underappreciated holiday workforce.”

his grin widens, but there’s a shift in his expression—something more curious, more intent. “so, do you always deflect with humour,” he asks, tilting his head slightly, “or is it just my lucky night?”

your lips part slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in the conversation. “and do you always psychoanalyse women at christmas parties?” you shoot back, the edge in your tone softened by the playful smile tugging at your lips.

“only the ones who seem like they have really good stories to tell,” he replies smoothly, his voice dipping lower.

you roll your eyes, though you feel the laugh bubbling up despite yourself. “you’re persistent, i’ll give you that.”

“i’m argentinian,” he says with a light shrug, as though that explains everything. “it’s genetic.”

the absurdity of the statement makes you laugh, this time unrestrained and genuine. you shift in your seat, tucking your legs beneath you as you hold your mug close, needing the warmth against your palms. he adjusts as well, leaning forward now, resting his elbows on his knees. his gaze is steady, direct, and disarmingly sincere.

“you’re good at this, you know,” he says, his tone softer now, almost conversational.

“at what?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

“deflecting,” he says simply, his eyes searching yours. “you tell a joke, flash a smile, and everyone forgets to ask the real questions.”

you shift uncomfortably, your grip tightening around the mug. “maybe i just don’t like questions,” you say, the words coming out more defensive than you intended.

“or maybe you don’t like answers,” he counters, his voice steady but without judgment.

the weight of his words settles over you, and you find yourself looking away, your gaze fixed on the fire. the orange glow feels safer than the intensity in his eyes.

“you’ve been hurt before,” he says, breaking the silence.

“haven’t we all?” you reply quickly, your tone sharper now, a reflex to protect yourself.

“sure,” he agrees, his voice calm, unbothered by your resistance. “but not everyone builds walls like you do.”

your shoulders tense, and you draw back slightly, the heat of the fire no longer comforting. “you don’t know me well enough to say that,” you reply, your voice quieter now, but firm.

“not yet,” he says, the gentleness in his tone catching you off guard. “but i’d like to.”

the vulnerability in his voice chips away at your defences, and for a moment, you exhale, leaning back into the couch. you’re silent, but the tension in your posture eases.

“it’s not that simple,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “people think you can just… open up and everything will be fine. but when you’ve given your heart to someone who didn’t want it, it’s hard to trust anyone with it again.”

his dark eyes don’t waver, his gaze steady but soft, and he nods slowly. “i get that,” he says. “but maybe the trick isn’t trusting someone else first. maybe it’s trusting yourself—that you’ll survive it if things don’t go the way you hope.”

✩

the flickering firelight dances across his face, softening his features, and his expression is open, patient, unhurried.

“you’re different than i thought you’d be,” he says after a long pause, his voice dropping lower.

“what did you think i’d be like?” you ask, curious despite yourself.

“i don’t know,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smile. “polished, untouchable, the kind of person who always has the upper hand.”

“and now?” you press, leaning in slightly, the space between you shrinking.

“still intimidating,” he admits, his smile widening just enough to make your heart skip. “but in a good way.”

for the first time, you let the moment linger, the tension between you shifting into something unspoken but undeniable.

the fire casts a warm glow over the room, its crackling filling the quiet pauses between words. you laugh, shaking your head, the sound light but genuine. a comfortable silence stretches between you and franco, and in that quiet, you feel it—a subtle but undeniable pull. it’s unspoken, yet it lingers, drawing you closer to him in a way that feels both surprising and inevitable.

“you’re not what i expected, either,” you say, your tone casual, though the words carry weight.

franco leans forward slightly, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “oh? what did you expect?”

your lips curl into a teasing smile. “someone who tries too hard to be funny. but you’re just… effortlessly annoying.”

his laughter bursts out, rich and warm, and he clutches his chest dramatically. “effortlessly annoying? that might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

you shake your head, your smile widening despite yourself. you can feel your guard slipping, piece by piece, the edges softening with every laugh, every shared glance.

✩

as the night drifts on, the conversation flows like an easy current, touching on favourite movies, childhood christmas memories, and absurd holiday traditions. you trade stories that are ridiculous and endearing, the kind that make your sides ache from laughter. each word exchanged deepens the connection between you, weaving a thread of familiarity where there was none before.

he leans back, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “you know, this has to be the best christmas conversation i’ve ever had. no offence to santa and the elves.”

you raise your brow, feigning seriousness. “i’ll take it as a compliment. i don’t usually do this, you know.”

he tilts his head, curiosity dancing in his expression. “what? talk to effortlessly annoying guys?”

“no,” you reply with a soft laugh. “sit here, opening up to someone i just met. it’s… different.”

the teasing fades from his face as he leans in slightly, his voice dropping to something quieter, more intent. “different good or different bad?”

you meet his gaze, your heart beating a little faster at the intensity in his eyes. “good,” you say softly. “definitely good.”

the fire crackles softly in the background, the rhythmic pops and hisses filling the spaces between breaths. your laughter, which had moments ago echoed brightly, now fades into something quieter, something deeper. the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s laced with a gentle understanding that neither of you has to name. you feel it—a warmth spreading through you, unfamiliar yet comforting, like an old song you’ve almost forgotten but still know by heart. it’s a feeling you haven’t let yourself embrace in years.

franco shifts slightly beside you, leaning forward as if to close the distance without intruding. his voice cuts through the quiet, warm and deliberate. “for the record,” he says, his lips curving into a faint, teasing smile, “you’re pretty good at this too.”

you glance at him, your brow lifting in subtle curiosity. “at what?”

his eyes linger on yours, the firelight flickering in their depths. he doesn’t hesitate, his tone softer now, almost confessional. “making me want to stay up all night talking to you.”

the words land heavier than you expect, and for a moment, your heart stumbles, a traitorous skip in its rhythm. you’re certain he notices, but for once, you don’t try to hide it.

your grip loosens slightly on your glass of wine, and you exhale, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope. the vulnerability in his words disarms you, but it’s the sincerity in his gaze that keeps you still, like he’s waiting, patiently, to see if you’ll let him stay.

✩

you stand near the balcony door, the hum of the christmas party a soft murmur inside. outside, the chill air brushes your skin, the twinkling lights from the decorations contrasting with the warmth of the fire crackling in the corner. your glass of wine rests in your hand, swirling gently, the dark liquid catching the firelight. you find yourself momentarily lost in the way the flames dance, tracing their movement, letting the quiet settle over you.

franco is standing beside you, so close now that his knee almost brushes against yours, but neither of you says anything. it's the first time tonight that the two of you have actually been alone, outside the usual nods and polite greetings you’ve exchanged over the years.

after a beat, he breaks the silence, his voice low but steady, like he’s testing the air between you.

“you know,” he begins, glancing toward you but keeping his gaze just slightly above yours, “i used to think love was supposed to be this big, dramatic thing. like fireworks and grand gestures.”

you raise an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth curling into a smirk as you shift your weight, the wine glass still twirling in your hand. “let me guess—movies and cheesy romance novels ruined you?”

franco laughs, the sound soft but amused, and you can hear the humour in his voice when he responds. “hey, i’m a romantic. sue me.”

you chuckle, the ease of his words making you relax, but there’s something in his tone that lingers. the idea of love as a grand, sweeping event feels familiar, even if it's been a long time since you've believed in it. the pause between the two of you stretches a little longer, the silence pulling at the edges of your thoughts, and you finally turn to him, looking at him fully for the first time tonight.

“and now?” you ask quietly, your voice catching the reflection of the fire in his eyes. “what do you think it’s supposed to be?”

he looks at you, really looks at you this time, and there's something about the way he shifts, the way he leans slightly forward, that makes his words hit you harder than you expect. his eyes are steady, but his voice is softer now, more introspective.

“i think it’s quieter,” he says, his tone almost reverent, like he's sharing a truth he's only just realised. “more like… finding someone who makes you feel like you’re home, no matter where you are.”

the words settle heavily in the space between you. you blink, your breath momentarily stuck in your chest. there's something in his expression, something real and raw, and it pulls you in. you turn your body slightly towards him, the firelight flickering off his face, and you can feel the weight of his honesty pressing into your own guarded heart.

“that’s nice," you say, almost whispering, but a knot tightens in your throat. you shift your gaze, struggling to maintain the usual lightness, but it’s hard now. "but what if you’ve been hurt? what if 'home' feels more like a risk than a refuge?”

franco doesn’t hesitate. his elbows drop to his knees, the movement slow and deliberate. he leans in just slightly, his shoulders squared toward you, and the teasing edge that usually follows him is gone, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

“then maybe you stop looking for a perfect home,” he responds, voice steady, each word measured. “maybe you find someone who’s willing to build it with you, one piece at a time. even if it’s messy.”

the simplicity of his answer leaves you breathless for a second. you swallow, feeling something shift within you, like a door cracking open just a little wider. his words hang in the air, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel the weight of them settle into your chest. it’s a thought you’ve buried for a long time, and you feel a flicker of warmth in the cold air around you.

“you make it sound so simple,” you say, a soft laugh escaping you, though your voice is quieter now, more fragile.

his lips twitch into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes right away. he glances at you, his gaze lingering before he answers. “it’s not. but i think the right person makes it worth the mess.”

you exhale, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly, though his words have left something unspoken between you. the weight of the conversation feels too heavy to hold onto for much longer, so you try to shift the mood. you take a deep breath and let the faintest hint of a smile curve your lips.

“okay, mr. romantic,” you tease, your voice a little lighter now. “what’s your other grand passion? what keeps you up at night?”

franco grins, the teasing spark returning to his eyes. “besides annoy people by fireplaces?”

you laugh, shaking your head at him, but there’s something different in the way you look at him now, something softer in your gaze. you catch the slight change in his expression, the way his eyes soften, even if only for a fraction of a second, as he watches you.

“i like cooking, actually,” he says, a genuine warmth to his voice. he leans back slightly, the tension leaving his shoulders as he talks. “there’s something about making a meal for someone—putting care into every detail, knowing it’s going to bring them joy.”

you raise an eyebrow, amusement creeping back into your features, but there’s a spark of curiosity now, too. “cooking, huh? sounds like an elaborate way to flirt.”

franco’s grin widens, and you notice the way his eyes twinkle with mischief. “absolutely. works every time.”

you lean back, finally allowing a full smile to spread across your face. it feels natural, comfortable, the awkward tension of the night slipping away with the shared laughter, but something lingers—a connection that wasn’t there before. the warmth of the fire and the quiet rhythm of your conversation are the only things that matter now.

you lean back, your body sinking slightly into the chair, the chill of the balcony air brushing against your skin. the soft hum of the christmas party drifts in from the room behind you, but here, the cold night air feels refreshing, clearing the noise in your head. your smile lingers, and you can’t help but feel a change in the air. the distance between you and franco now feels different—closer, more intimate.

“i like that,” you say, your voice calm but thoughtful. “the way you think about it, i mean. cooking for someone. it’s... intimate.”

franco shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his gaze focused on you. “what about you?” he asks, his voice soft, genuinely curious. “what’s the thing that makes your heart beat a little faster?”

you hesitate for a moment, the chill in the air suddenly making you feel a little warmer under his gaze. his openness makes you feel safe enough to share, and without thinking, the words tumble out of you.

“i write,” you say, your voice quiet, almost wistful. “or i used to, before life got in the way. it’s like... the only time i’ve ever felt completely free.”

his expression softens, his gaze gentle as he watches you, and for a brief moment, the world around you seems to fade. he looks like he understands the weight of your words. "why’d you stop?” he asks, his voice low, quiet with concern.

you shrug, avoiding his gaze, not wanting to face the vulnerability in your own eyes. “fear, maybe,” you reply, the words hanging heavily between you. “that i wasn’t good enough. that it wasn’t practical.”

“fear’s a bad reason to stop doing something you love,”he responds, his tone firm but gentle, almost as though he’s speaking to himself as much as to you.

the silence lingers in the space between you, and the cool night air feels heavier, somehow more present. you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest, your breath catching slightly as you meet his gaze. the snow falls gently, glowing faintly in the moonlight. the world feels suspended, quiet, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this stillness, and nothing else matters. there’s a sincerity in his eyes that pulls you in deeper, something you can’t quite explain.

“you should writing again,” he adds, his voice softer now, almost like a quiet plea. “you’re too passionate to keep it all locked inside.”

you swallow, the idea of writing again making something stir in your chest. but you don’t let it show, instead trying to keep the mood light. “and you should stop psychoanalysing strangers at christmas parties,” you tease, a small smile tugging at your lips.

he grins, a playful glint in his eyes, but there’s a shift. his gaze softens, and the playful atmosphere between you both changes. “maybe i’ll make it my new year’s resolution,” he says with a teasing tone, but there’s something deeper in his voice now. “right after ‘kiss beautiful smart women by fireplaces.’”

you laugh, a warm, genuine sound that seems to break the tension between you. but when your eyes meet again, the air is different. the laughter fades, replaced by a quiet understanding that neither of you can ignore. there’s a pull, something magnetic. his smile fades into something deeper, and you feel it too—a tension you haven’t felt in years.

“can i?” his voice is soft, his eyes searching yours, and you feel a warmth spreading through you that makes your heart race.

you nod, your throat tight, unable to say anything. but your silence speaks volumes, and it’s enough. he gives you every opportunity to pull away, but you don’t. you stay, rooted to the spot, as his lips hover just inches from yours, your heart pounding in your chest as he inches closer.

the kiss comes softly at first, tentative, almost as though he’s testing the waters, unsure of the fragility of the moment. but then, something shifts. the warmth between you builds, and the kiss deepens, both of you leaning into it, the connection effortless. it’s like you’ve both been waiting for this, and now that it’s here, it feels as though nothing else matters—just the two of you, wrapped in the glow of the lights and the quiet of the night. you both lean into it, your bodies moving as if they’ve known how to do this all along. it feels natural, easy, like the conversation you’ve had all night.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, your cheeks flushed with warmth. franco’s smile is softer now, more intimate, and it makes your heart flutter.

“you’re a hard one to read, you know that?” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, though his eyes are still searching yours.

you shake your head, the smile lingering on your lips. “and you’re impossible to ignore.”

the soft crackle of the fire still echoes from the living room, and the snow falls gently on your coat, glowing faintly in the moonlight. but here, on the balcony, it’s just the two of you. for the first time in a year, you feel something stir within you—a piece of yourself that you thought was lost. and in that moment, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found it again

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[myceliacrochet]

URGENT: 4yo Little Girl and Her Family Malnutritioned and Freezing!! (Sham and Moneer al-Anqar -- Skills Series: "Easy Piece First")

Reblog if u answer pls tysm!🩷

There's no shame in that! In this series, I'll be sharing some tips to help us keep going strong, carrying these families throughout this brutal winter of extermination. With each post I'll be highlighting a family in desperate need.

Easy Piece First

Whether we're working at a job, making commissions, working on posts, or doing other tasks, mutual aid for genocide relief can be overwhelming. The stakes are through the roof, and sometimes the people who most want to help are the people least able to. Often I freeze in place, overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of where to start. Depression, anxiety, and AuDHD don't help!

So I hope this skill is of use to you. I call it "Easy Piece First" because that's what helps me remember it, but it's definitely not a new idea.

I started this post with the easiest small step accessible. For me, that was writing down Moneer's current blog tag (@sham-moner) in a new post. This was the easiest for me because it required no decision-making and could be done in a few seconds. Then I filled in the other parts that don't take much thought -- the GoFundMe link, the vetting, and some tags.

For other posts, sometimes I'll be making art that is unrelated and then I'll think of a post to go with it.

Lazy and Heartless, or Focused and Strategic?

Everyone is different, but trying to force yourself to start with the hardest part first (what some people call the "Eat That Frog" approach) can actually make things take longer for some people. Using "Easy Piece First," I was able to get more done with my time, and with less trouble. This makes my efforts more sustainable long-term.

On a related note, I actually take a lot of measures to not walk around with my chest constantly hurting for Palestinians anymore (though there's nothing wrong with doing so). My chest was aching at all times for months until I converted some of my worry into action and some of it into self-care -- so I could actually get more done for Palestinians, who do not need my tears but my labor.

This winter is a marathon, and we gotta see it through to the end.

Take care of yourself so you can get more done and keep helping people long-term.

Do not give yourself a heart condition.

Give Palestinians labor.

That's how I'm keeping myself out of the hospital and maximizing what I can do for people, but we all have our own strategies.

But that's enough about us -- let's talk about these two amazing kids.

Moneer and Sham

Palestinians are just regular people. That's the horrible reality. It's the exact same as if people from your own background, even your own family were getting tortured and killed.

Like, Moneer is a 19yo who had recently started university when the genocide began. Sham is 4, Mohammed is 16, Rana is 21, and Rasha is 22.

What were you going through when you were 4? How would you have felt if you saw people getting blown up at that age? What if your house was blown up and all your toys and friends were lost, and you had to live outside in the winter, scrounging for moldy bread and polluted water?

What if you lived with the smell of rotting bodies when you were 4? Did you know what that smelled like as a little kid? I still don't know what that smells like. I didn't really know what death was at that age. She does.

This small child is in critical need of food and water!!

She is starving!!

Sham will die this winter without more donations!!

This is a call to action for an extremely urgent campaign!!!

It's been 2 days, and it was 2 days before that! This is far too long!!

Moneer is still recovering from major surgery. He is in a lot of pain and is also malnutritioned and in need of clean water and warmth.

Moneer is very close to his family and dearly loves his mom, Amani (39). Amani is in a lot of danger because she has asthma in a dusty massacre zone without treatment. It's killing Moneer to watch his mom go through this.

Drink some water, take a rest, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, using whatever tools work for you.

We are not letting these kids and their family die this winter!! We can do this!!

Vetting: GazaVetters #8

@opencommunion @beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring @eryuditely @lesbianmaxevans @malcriada @turian @sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings @dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter @minosbull @hamstertross @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @definitelynotafox @kaleschmidt @jaylung101 @captainsaltymuyfancy2 @timetravellingkitty @sun-and-moon-side @kahin @greenmossyrock @northgazaupdates2 @irhabiya @theparanoid @steep1253o @victoriawhimsey @dirhwangdaseul @cruzwalters @ladycelebrianofimladris @tamamita @50seagullsinatrenchcoat @deathlonging @nconiku @briarhips @kaislittlecorner @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @sawasawako @feluka @anneemay-blog @ralfocups

P.S.: I have several people waiting on me for posts. I am so sorry -- I will get them finished and published as soon as possible.

@soft-sunbird Thank you dear friend🥰🩷 I love you

[kaburion]

Hello Kaburion! I recently discovered the Raigaar and I really want to make a tribe with my friends! I suppose the only issue is that we're missing some information... Firstly, since poaching is seemingly something that happens in this universe, are fighting rings, illegal trading (etc..) a thing as well? We're also very curious to know more about a tribe's hierarchy! Does it work like a lion's pride or is it more like a clan like in warrior cats? Lastly, we would love to know more about the language! Do they only speak it or are they able to write it? Similarly, what about names? Do they have a 'human' name and a Raigaar name or does both name would mean/be the same? I also plan to create a 'world' on toyhouse for me and my friend's Raigaar OCs and we would love it if you would join us on said world! (If you are unfamiliar with toyhouse, I would love to teach you more about it and gift you an invite code.)

It makes me so happy to hear people like the species enough to make their own OC's and stories!

The Raigaar species is part of my comic idea, and the lore is a little bit barebones at the moment, so I encourage people to come up with their own ideas, what I've shared so far can be used as a blueprint to build from, all I ask for is of course to include credit for the species : )

They do have a language, some of the raigaar are also more advanced than others, so some may rely more and growls and other animalistic ways to communicate, while others rely more on words.

They don't have written language however.

They generally have one name, usually the names are inspired by nature or their personality, like for example the main raigaar oc I have is named Leo, which of course is also a human name, but in their language the rough translation is fierce. (No I haven't actually created a whole language you can just improvise)

The way they live can also wary, some live alone or with 1-3 others, while some form big tribes as large as 20-30 members. The way they determine a leader/leaders also depends, some may take the position by force while for some it's a mutual agreement between tribe members, etc etc.

I'm not familiar with toyhouse, but I wouldn't mind an invite!

I also encourage everyone who has made raigaar oc's and any projects related to them to share them with me! I love seeing what people come up with!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: December 20/24

Happy Friday Before Christmas, friends!! Some of us officially start a break, so let's get into the weekend with five more fics added to my radar this week! Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

Travellers by Calais_Reno (T, 2,672+ w., 1/? Ch. || Time Travel AU || WiP || Victorian Universe, Christmas, Hope) – I’ve been collecting some ideas for short stories based on The Traveller and have decided to keep them together here. There is no plot; these are scenes (sequels? prequels?) I didn’t include in The Traveller but wanted to share with you. If you haven’t read the original story, Sherlock is a time traveller from 2052 who comes back to 2009 to kill Moriarty, who has set in motion events leading to a civilisation-ending scenario in the year 2143. He meets John, kills Moriarty, and… I’d say the rest is history. Part 9 ofTime Travel

A Commitment by J_Baillier (T, 4,479 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, Rosie Is In This Fic, Marriage, Parenthood, Light Romance, Platonic Romance, Angst, Family, Friendship/Love) – Mycroft has news to share, which prompts John and Sherlock to consider the turns their shared life has taken during the past few years.

H.O.U.N.D. by KtwoNtwo (T, 7,922+ w., 4/16 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU || WiP || THoB Rewrite, Case Fic, Dubious Science) – When Sherlock takes on the case of Henry Knight he is unprepared for what he will find at Baskerville. Behind the facade of doped up monkeys, glowing rabbits, and the ever-present alien joke Sherlock suspects there's a darker trial being run. One without full govt authority that involves a very human subject. It will take all of his courage to face this adversary - to risk his life and his career - to unleash the H.O.U.N.D. from its master, its collar, and it's cage and to give him a chance at true Liberty; a chance to feel human again.

In the Arms of the Ocean by standbygo (E, 10,814 + w., 6/10 Ch. || WiP || Friends to Lovers, Cruises / Vacation, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating) – Sherlock and John are gifted an Atlantic cruise on a luxury ship as thanks from a rich client. Will either one of them finally get their heads out of the sand and share their love for each other? (Spoiler: yeah, they do.)

Fight or Flight by saintscully (M, 10,975 w., 10 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S4 Rewrite / Fix It, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Mutual Pining, Implied Alcohol Abuse, Implied / Referenced Infidelity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealous John, Self Doubt, Fluff and Angst) – This is the story of John and Sherlock during Mary’s months away from London. Part 1 of The Fight or Flight Universe

[vacantgodling]

not to be weird and sappy on main, but frfr i'm so glad i have found a community of people who think my work is good

[arsenicflame]

Bonus round! Do you use a queue tag?

[ewwww-what]

friendship so strong it grants you a sixth level spell slot. I have words to say.

[laylakeating]

And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[alienaiver]

also in regards to my last rb and also like generally. i miss u all so much like last night i dreamt i was having strawberry croissants with snart who left me with a link drawing and a few weeks ago i had burgers with deru and several times now ive walked thru meadows of purple heathers with dira in my dreams. i am genuinely saddened that im unable to be here as much as i would like to, u all mean so much to me!!

[kuroosdarling]

hello friendz !! i am packing my bags and moving to @tetzoro !!! please come join me if ya want ^_^

back to navi.