#he simply contains multitudes

[itskaist]

Hark, A Herald

Gabriel Vidal as painted by dearest friend @reapersmarch

[aethersea]

I saw a post proposing that the reason the Doctor always ends up on Gallifrey at a time after he last left it but before the next time he'll visit, and other Time Lords similarly are all showing up on Gallifrey in a chronological manner, is that the TARDIS just handles it. and that is great! but I would like to propose that, as well as and alongside this, Time Lords have a biological like-calls-to-like thing going on that means they're extremely unlikely to encounter each other out of order. it's like how birds can sense north. Time Lords can sense each other, and are repelled (like magnets) by other Time Lords who are at a mismatched point in their chronology.

the TARDIS is handling it, but she's doing that partly by avoiding any time & place where the Doctor's spidey sense starts tingling. (the Doctor is not aware of this.) that's why the Doctor and the Master don't run into past/future incarnations of each other: any time one of them aims for a planet the other is already on, if they'd be running into each other out of order, they get the heebie jeebies and turn around.

[izzyhandsy]

BREAKING: man who voted for the “People Getting Their Toes Cut Off Party” gets his toes cut off

(gif from @blairpfaff)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

REFLEX IN THE SKY, WARNS YOU YOURE GONNA DIE, STORM COMING, YOU BETTER HIDE. FROM THE ATOMIC TIDE

(messin around with (ONLY) pens and colored pencils, error correction done with paper n glue)

[steveyockey]

To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.

This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.

Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).

And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.

See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.

In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.

Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.

Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Sometimes, crying is the strong thing.

Part eight of The Rain series

Synopsis: Jamil and Kamil visit The Prefect in the infirmary after Ramchackle's collapse.

TW: Kalim is ooc(? (Personally I think it's just a side of his character we haven't seen), the usual for this series ig

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8 (here), Part 9, Part 10 (coming soon), . . .

After Idia's visit, you were given another period of rest. The reason was given as not wanting to make you too exhausted with too many consecutive visits in a short period of time.

Your first visitor after your rest period was Jamil.

You didn't even notice him enter. You were only alerted to his presence when the savory scent of a homecooked meal wafted into your nose.

You tilted your head to look at him and were met with the boy's ever-stoic expression. "I know you like that one dish I make, so I crafted up a version of it that would be easier to digest and not too rough on your stomach." He set the insulated bag on your nightstand as he spoke.

You had been given longer to recover than last time, so by now your throat was doing much better. It wasn't in tip-top shape, but it was better: good enough for you to have simple conversations. "Thank you, Jamil." your voice was raspy from misuse and hardly recognizable as your own.

"There's no need to thank me. It was a simple task." Jamil brushes off your thanks and takes a seat in the chair next to your bed. "Kalim will be coming tomorrow, although, I'm sure you've already been informed."

You nod softly at his words. "I was surprised to see his visit listed as after yours."

Jamil's mouth forms a firm line: "Yes, well, this isn't a scenario I was willing to put myself after him in."

His words were spoken in his usual, nonchalant tone, but the significance of them wasn't lost on you. "I'm proud." you smile.

Jamil simply scoffs before taking the bag off your nightstand and pulling out a thermos. "I heard you can't eat on your own at the moment." he explains as he opens the container and pulls a spoon from the bag. He shifts to take a comfortable position next to you on the bed, being sure to be hyper aware of all of your injuries as he does.

He spends most of his visit feeding you and explaining to you the situation with Ramshackle (only after he made sure you were up to hearing it, of course). After the incident, Kalim had demanded a team be brought in to check the remains of the building for any sign of sabotage. He was worried that after the VDC, someone who may have had it out for him had heard of his stay there and his friendship with you and shifted their target to you. The scene was certainly compromised from the initial rain and the use of Leona's unique magic, but there was still plenty to investigate. The moment the team Kalim hired showed up a barrier was put over the scene to prevent any further damage (a spell all the teachers made sure to learn from them (the rescue would have been easier on everyone (especially you) after all if the rain hadn't been a factor.)) No foul play was found in the typical sense. However, there were many 'repairs' that bordered on malice with how poorly they were done. That and the multitude of complaint letters found in the Headmage's office, proving he was aware of the dire state Ramshackle dorm was in, were used as evidence for his arrest.

There's a moment of silence as Jamil packs the thermos and spoon back into the bag before he speaks: "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Many of those letters to the Headmage were from me. I saw the state the dorm was in during the VDC, but I took no action to help you further than simply sending in letters. I'm supposed to be a guard trained for disaster, yet I failed to protect you from one that I so clearly saw coming."

"Jamil-"

"No. Don't. I know what you're thinking. I-. . .I just wanted to get that off my chest." With those words, he abruptly takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and leaves.

He was right. He was trained to be a guard capable of handling any disaster that came his way. He was trained to keep his demeanor calm so as not to cause any extra stress to a victim. He performed his job beautifully in that aspect.

However, the twitch of his eyes as he left so abruptly and the soft choked sounds coming from the other side of the door didn't escape you.

"I hope you know just how warm your food was. How much it made me feel loved." you mumble. Whether or not your words reach him through the door, you're unsure.

Kalim was indeed next; however unrecognizable he was.

His face lacked its usual cheery charm and was instead overtaken by a seriousness you'd never see in him before.

He walked in and stood next to your bed, examining you. Without a word, he sat a small, safe distance from you on the bed.

Just as you were about to speak, he broke the silence: "My family is covering the legal fees that will come with the court case following Dire Crowley's arrest. I'll make sure you get the justice you deserve."

He spoke so coldly that you had to do a double take to make sure this was really Kalim. You knew that he was touchy on the subject of poison: having had people make attempts on his life in that manner before. You also knew that he was the one who ordered the investigation that got Crowley arrested in the first place, but you hadn't expected this change in demeanor.

"You may think I'm going overboard," he mutters "but as far as I'm concerned, his negligence might as well equate to an attempt on your life. Those deserve to be taken seriously."

His expression is cold, so much so it gives you chills. "Kalim." you whisper.

He cuts you off. "I want to." It's like he read your mind.

He gently brushes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. Taking one of your hands in his, he rubs gentle circles on it with his thumb. "Rest." he mumbles.

You can tell that his eyes have begun to water. "Rest with me?"

He's hesitant, but he lays down, keeping his careful distance while still holding your hand. The moment his head hits the pillow he's out like a light. You can only imagine how little sleep he's been getting.

As the tears dribble down his sleeping face, you gently reach out to swipe them away.

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[jellicatty]

♯1 ┆ ❝ SUMMER BUMMER ❞ 𝜗𝜚 ᵎᵎ

With your teases and flirty remarks, the two men find themselves guessing the color of your panties— another game they played besides golfing.

╰┈➤ contains : nanami x beverage cart attendant! female reader x higuruma. nana and higu golfing. masturbation. grinding. mutual pinning. innuendos. nana and higu are perverts here. jealous! higuruma. reader is a tease. reader wear skirts.

╰┈➤ note : EEEE FINALLY I POSTED THIS it only took me like a months... anywayy, sex scenes aren't really my forte plus this is like the first time i wrote one sooo don't expect too much (?).

╰┈➤ next : groupie love (coming soon) ...

Defendants would put all the blame on him, the court's verdict is seemingly destined to oppose his favor. Or, that's what Higuruma thought. Another failed case, another living being failed by the country's unjust system, another alleged victim thrown into jail.

Higuruma though, knew that these circumstances would happen. His dream have lasted for centuries, formed by his compassion to deliver the accused to light. But little by little, his principles have formed cracks.

Although his workaholic nature is unfaltering, worsened by the multitude of paperworks, Higuruma does crave for rest. But, his work-life balance contradicts his need for relaxation. Until, the opportunity had arrived and he's now trudging to a bar.

To passerby, it was your typical, vintage bar that old and worn-out folks like him would visit. However, Higuruma saw it as a sanctuary for his deep troubles. From drinking with his colleagues or just simply letting his usually work-occupied mind slip away, his favorite bar had seen it all.

"One— No, three of these, please." His ever polite tone still there even as the hours of long work shouldered him down.

The atmosphere rivaled the comfort of his home, and it's probably why Higuruma had an liking for it.

"You're being carried away by your thoughts, Mr. Higuruma." The bartender was quick to notice his blank expression, placing his ordered drinks in an attempt to distract his mind from work.

But, the bartender knew Higuruma too well. Despite connecting only through brief conversations, and a short time together, the bartender had a sense of what Higuruma's state of mind is at the end of the day.

"If you want to take off your mind away from work, then I suggest doing something else for a change." Well, this hasn't been the first time the advice was given to the attorney. He's had his fair share of therapeutic tips from concerned people. None were able to fully convince him though.

"I don't... I'm too busy."

"You wallow in self-pity, yet do nothing to save yourself from it. I've met other people like you, people who find comfort in what makes them distraught." Instead of his duties, the bartender was now focused on Higuruma. "It doesn't end good for them. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. It's not that easy to let go of something that you've dedicated your whole life too."

"I'm sure nothing will be lost if you do let go for a fraction of a second."

"You're not going to give this up, huh?" Higuruma sighed, "Well, I'd like to keep a valuable customer." They both chuckled at the Bartender's wishes. After some thought and a drink or two, Higuruma was set on the decision to make some small changes in his life for once.

The problem is, what would be the change?

Gym was out of the question since he frequently did so. Hiking's too taxing and he can't leave his duties for a long time. Sports were a possibility, as long as it didn't physically exert him that much. Golfing, maybe? He thought.

"One of the gents at the bar earlier has been to the newly opened golfing course here."

Ah, golfing it is.

"I think that young fellow over there needs a getaway from their life, too." His focus turned to the younger, blond man sitting three stools away. A few bottles have been emptied, yet it was evident that he could go for a few more. Nothing outstanding from the man aside from his leopard-pattern tie. Just your typical, fatigue worker.

"Looks like you're also preoccupied with your mind, Sir Nanami. I take it as a bad day?"

"No need to say more."

Although Higuruma knew it was not the best to disturb the tired man, he thought that perhaps talking to him would make their mundane nights better. Maybe, to comfort him with the words he wished to hear.

"Sorry for intruding your conversation, but are you new here?"

"Nope. Been here for some time now. Just been a bit busy with some... grueling reports again." He winced at the mention of his work.

"Reports?"

"I'm a salaryman." Higuruma now turned his full attention on Nanami, filling his curiosity. He hands out a calling card, "Here, just in case." And for a brief second, Higuruma almost laughs at his own 'joke' that he always did with his new acquaintances. Fortunately for him, Nanami's humor was not yet stripped away by his boring profession and softly smiled at his friendly remark.

It's a simple change like this is what Nanami wanted. Nothing extraordinary, nothing too small to notice too. The two men shared their experiences, silently bonding over the heavy troubles they carried from day to night. And if they were being honest, this was one of those moments where they surely won't forget. It's like moments like this was there only escape from the tiring duties they must do.

Alas, the deepest night has caught up to them. The lulling blue tones that played throughout their visit no longer graced their ears. The only noise present was their chatter and the kind bartender's huffing and puffing of cigarette.

"You know, despite your gruff look, you're an approachable guy. A fun one too if you squinted."

"Oh, gruff? You should check a mirror, Higuruma."

The two men chuckled at their jokes, slowly packing up their own belongings before cleaning their surroundings. After they finished, they walked together outside.

The blistering cold of the night quickly breezed past the two men. A shiver and a small breath of fresh air later, they nodded at each other and departed from the bar with heavy steps.

The night was still young, and Higuruma's desperate for a change. Fortunately, Nanami Kento had arrived. Albeit small, Nanami still had made a difference to Higuruma's perpetual enervating days.

He doesn't want their interactions to remain just at the bar, though. Perhaps, he should suggest on golfing together to help the blond too.

The summertime heat was merciless. As one could anticipate for this time of year. In the intense heat, Higuruma and Nanami were helpless. Their experienced selves took turns swinging their golf clubs, finding entertainment in their calculated swings and triumphant shots. Empty cups scattered on their table, their belongings left unattended. 

Golf seemed like a good start—and maybe their greatest choice by far. It was not only a nice diversion, but it also provided them with the ideal reason to spend time with their favorite entertainment—you, the beverage cart girl. 

Weeks have passed, and life has been more tolerable. The first golf meets with Nanami were riddled with a comfortable silence, as if the two men had known each other for a while. The only bond they had was formed on their sleepless nights and persistent work, yet conversations flowed effortlessly. With their unfading politeness and formal talking that stayed even during their golf meets. They both assumed that the other was righteous, and a man of good qualities. Damn were they wrong.

Refined. Upright. Gentlemanly. Those words that used to describe the two men were long discarded. Since your arrival, the two men had been nothing but good, their true colors spilling from the shells of who they used to be. Higuruma could still vividly recall the moment where their true selves slipped. Their gazes were fixed only on you that day, overfilled with joy once you asked for their orders in that sweet voice you had. And right after you left them with their hard rock problems to themselves, they turned to each other as if their eyes alone could communicate. A word did not need to be shared. They knew that you were going to be a problem.

"What do you think's the color of her panties this time, Nanami?" Higuruma positioned his hips in a more appropriate manner, then swung his club. 

"That cheeky woman loves pink," Nanami replied. 

Aside from golf, they engaged in another game — guessing the color of your panties. As suggested by Higuruma when he caught a glimpse of it a few days ago, this was now the two men's favorite pastime. To them, it seemed only fair since you'd purposely bend over to shamelessly give them a view of your lace-trimmed panties that matched your outfits.

"I highly doubt it will be pink again—" 

Out of nowhere, the faint noise of tires screeching slowly approached the two men. Puzzled, they looked at each other first, before turning around. Their eyes confusedly searched for the noise, before their gazes landed on the approaching golf cart— or rather, you. 

It was as if you were the oasis in the Sahara desert, quenching the men's thirst with your exposed skin and alluring smile. With your pastel yellow pleats that went inches above your knee, your tight-fit Lululemon jacket that hugged your delectable figure, and your glamoured face, you joyfully steered the cart towards them. 

Your beautiful smile greeted them, "Sir Kento! Sir Hiromi! I've brought you your drinks again!"  

Higuruma's typically vacant eyes had their spark back to them, the usual boring look it wore instantly disappearing. Meanwhile, the hard lines of Nanami’s face eased, his stoic demeanor softening in your presence.

You hopped off your seat and prepared their ordered drinks, blind to their improper gazes that seek your undergarment. 

Luck was merciful, and the world was on their side today when a breeze had swept your skirt upwards in a cartoonish fashion. 

"Oh!" Your cheeks flushed scarlet at the embarrassing incident, yet your hands take their time to pull down your skirt. 

Their eyes are quicker than your hands, ill-intent gazes finding your undergarment in a flash. Light pink and polka dotted, adorned with a small bow at the front. The kind of panties that he envisioned every night. Nanami snickered, proving himself to be right once again.

"Pay up," Higuruma grumbled, cursing the man under his breath. Their actions no longer define the men they used to be. Their gentlemanliness and polished attitudes dissipate into the air at the sight of you. 

"Thanks, angel. You know how to make our day better, huh?" Nanami returned your smile and took the drinks from your hand. 

Higuruma is not oblivious enough to overlook Nanami's full interest in you. He's sure that a deprived man like him would ogle at your frame. He applauded the blond's self-control because, God, mini skirts were the death of him. 

"That would beeee... 12 dollars!" 

"12 only?" Higuruma pulled out his wallet and handed more than the said amount, "Here, keep the change, sweetie." However, your hands clumsily dropped the money. 

Your breasts from the tight-fit jacket were threatening to spill out as you bent down to grab the fallen change. Although involuntarily, the two men were able to shortly glance at it and oh, my— what a sight. Two mounds pressed tightly together, sweat sensually gliding on your skin, the natural red flush adding more allure. 

Their throats ran dry, needing a refreshment as they were taken aback by the promiscuous view of your tits. There's no way that wasn't intentional, they thought.  

Although you often pulled those stunts, your shyness still lingered— a thing that they grew fondness for. You excused your blunder, timidly covering your face as you walked back to your cart. 

"Aw, you going so soon?" You knew Higuruma would call for you. After all, he enjoyed your presence and often was the one chatting with you. From his smirk though, you should have known he had something in store for today. 

"Come, let Mr. Kento here teach you some golf lessons." Higuruma's true goal of making you break in broad daylight is hidden under his hoax suggestion. Nanami, with his sharp senses, saw Higuruma's real intention, irritated at being his guinea pig for entertainment. 

Despite his annoyance, he gratifies the other man's idea. Now, he has an inexcusable reason to close the proximity between you. 

You asked the man in your honeyed voice "Would it be okay, Sir Kento?", so sweet it's almost sickly. His ears are focused on your saccharine voice, contradicting his jumbled thoughts that insisted he was sick of hearing it, fearing how much power your words have over him. His mind wonders; Would you have that same, sugary and sweet voice? Would your moans echo like candy, alluring and irresistible?

Nanami's attention was quickly drawn to you, looking up at him, his bulging biceps pressed against your tits. Your big, doll-like eyes are desperate to be taught. Nanami wonders again if you'd have the same look when he'll be ruining you.

"Pleaaseee! My shift will be finished soon!" Your pout was his last straw, a victim to your begging once again. Sighing, Nanami agreed to your requests. 

"Yay! Thank you, Sir Kento!" 

"Calm down, sweets. Mr. Kento here is going to malfunction if you keep on clinging to him like that." Higuruma snickered at Nanami's flustered face. "Oh, I apologize, Sir Kento!" You sheepishly backed away and regretted your actions. 

The truth is, it wasn't just the two men that had their perverse fantasies. You too suffered their charm. Whether it be downing the alcohol they ordered, or simply breathing, it always had been a distraction for you. Their Ralph Lauren polos hugged their bodies in a nice fit, outlining their flexed muscles that shone deliciously under their sweat and the sun's rays. Thick, defined thighs, straining their pants. Even when playing normally, their wealth and professionalism exuded, something that you found very appealing. 

"Bend with your hips, Y/n. Not your waist." Would it be wrong to say that you found his strict demeanor attractive? Would it also be wrong to think of the many things Nanami would order you to do in bed? 

"Aaand— Did I do it right?!" Nanami's advice went through and exited your ear. Your swings misaligned and your ball never reached the goal. 

"Gosh, you're a lost cause, angel. This is how it's done." Without warning, Nanami walked to your back. His proximity was sinful as his crotch settled at your ass, the sudden closeness eliciting a small, shocked gasp from you. 

"Like..." He's also affected by the warmth and comfort your ass gave, hot breath fanning over your neck. He extended his arm and put them over yours, guiding your own so you can swing in a correct manner. "This."

But, aiming for the goal was the least of your worries. Not when Nanami's cock is noticeably hardening against your ass. 

"There, you did it!" 

A mix of disbelief and amusement flickered on Higuruma's face. Regret washed over him as Nanami took his suggestion to another level, scolding himself for underestimating the blond's courage and will to tease you right in front of him. With no escape, he's now forced to watch the consequences of his actions unfold. Yet, despite the pure jealousy clouding his mind, he does admit that the scene was enticing. 

His thoughts are improper and vulgar, your flushed expression fueling him more. His train of thought is unavoidable though. Whenever Nanami teased you in broad daylight, publicly, and in front of him, his thoughts will surely be anything but pure.

"S-Sir Hiromi—!" Your voice cried, not for help but for his attention. A whore like you loved the attention. You loved Higuruma's disgusted scowl as he watched the two of you get handsy. You loved Higuruma's body, which reacted opposed to his shown expressions— his bulge visible while his face grimaced. 

But, his thoughts got the best of him, and you only wanted to share your achievement. 

"Did you s-see my shot? It was perfect!" You finally let out a breath when Nanami pulled away, not without a small, teasing comment whispered at you. 

Let him watch. 

Oh, you will. 

Another time, though, because Higuruma's jealousy was painfully cutting through the air. His patience was wearily thin, and it's all because you cannot stop grinding on Nanami's bulge. 

Determined to outdo the blond's ministrations, and also ease his jealousy, Higuruma chimes in., "You mind for a dinner together? Could tell that you need a break just from your eyes alone, sweets." 

The sudden attention left you light-headed, shocked with their unspoken rivalry. You had power and influence over them, and you know just how to use it. But for now, your mind could only focus on the fact that you were going to dinner with your client. You’ve overstepped so many rules and most probably going to be in trouble, but a night with a man like Higuruma Hiromi was something you won’t deny.

Nanami sees your excitement. Feeling the sprouted competition happening between him and his friend, he quickly interjects, "I still don't have your number either. What is it, angel?"

Higuruma's betting on all of his suits (which are all expensive, by the way) that Nanami's going to fuck his fist to your pictures tonight. And he wasn't wrong. Because, as soon as Nanami arrived home, his first thought was to check your socials (surprisingly, not his paperwork). He was initially confused since you had an innocent facade online. Shared religious quotes, pictures with family, not a single photo where your boobs are out for everyone to see. He's even doubting if he followed the correct account. The only confirmation he had that it was yours was the new story you had posted. 

It was you, right after your shift, posing in front of the mirror with a smile. Your caption about thanking the Lord for another day made him laugh. He's confident that you're praising Nanami for his ministrations earlier instead. 

Nanami also wholeheartedly believes you're thanking him too for pressing his hard cock on your ass. He's flattered, and fucking horny, still bothered by the stunt he pulled earlier. 

His erection is painful, and Nanami realizes how he could take care of it. Although feeling a bit perverse at the act he's about to do, he shoves his second thoughts away, eager to cum at a picture of you. 

His lengthy dick is in his hand, gliding against his tip, then sliding up and down. His pre cum coated the top, oozing continuously as he stared at your picture on screen.

"Fuuuck..." He groaned, eyes closed, panting at the pleasure he was feeling. He indulges in his fantasies, letting his imagination run wild. He thinks of you inside his bedroom, wearing nothing but your light pink underwear, with polka dots all over and decorated with laces and ribbons. The same panties that he caught a glimpse of that he's so weak for. He's curious about what you'd be like, but he knew your salacious nature, and figured that you'll be the same slut you are. 

God, if only you were here.

If you were here, it wouldn't be him toying with himself. It would be you, bouncing up and down, drool dripping from your mouth, as his cock fucks your pussy silly. You'd have that dumb look on your face, mind clouded in a lust-frenzy haze as you desperately begged for more. 

"Mhm! Sir Kento!" He knows you'd call out to him, your voice ever-so-sweet, whining and weeping at the fervent feeling of him filling you up. 

"Gonna cum inside you." is what he'd say if you were here. And you being you, you're fain of his request, straddling his hips as if it was made to be there. You wouldn't pull away. Instead, you'd remain on his dick as splurges of cum shoot out of it. 

"T-thank you, Sir" You'd thank him for drowning your sex with his cum. Nanami would only get hard again at your sweetness that managed to stay in the bedroom, and he'd flip you over and pound himself into you. 

His empty promises to himself would be fulfilled one day. But for now, his hand will do. 

"S-shit" His voice is shaky, body trembling at his intense high. His palm is dirtied by his cum that he hoped was inside of you instead.

Tonight, it will be his hand. Next week, it will be your mouth. He's certain of that— No, he swears it will be your small mouth wrapped on his cock. Perhaps, with Higuruma fucking you silly too.

tags : @packsvlog @honeynanamin @rrssrios @misscigarettes @shokosbunny @shamelessdonutkryptonite @i1uvc4ke @dongh9e @freakadelik @tomurafrlover23 @sad-darksoul @glader13 @that-redheadd @beantokki @a-hidden-gem @joonsanswers @erenspersonalsexdoll @s-1-xx @shxniq @ilovetengen @zianaz-slvtz @jwnzlvr @wifenanami @20kglex @oromaangel @jejejjekskwl @s4m4nth4wrld @jaeminsmilk @alpha-mommy69 @lobsteeer @blackphoenix0718 @wrldldo @nappingmoon @cindyneko-strider @yumiecheesecrackers @rattats-world

© jellicatty | no plagiarising please (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[cleo-fox]

Daylight

Summary: Despite your best efforts, Sunday morning doesn’t go as planned…and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, shower sex, fingering, vaginal sex, soft sex, sex that causes you to be several hours late for work, Loki being a (respectful) horn dog.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this yet, but the first fic is here). A/N: This started out as a scene in Overtime that kind of took on a life of its own. You don't necessarily need to read Overtime in order to enjoy or understand this fic, but you'll have more context if you do. Anyway, it was fun revisiting these two idiots--I've got a few more ideas for them up my sleeve, so there will be more in this series at some point.

The sunlight wakes you the next morning.

It’s the same sunlight as always, but it looks different coming through Loki’s window and streaming across his bed. It looks better, you think, splashed across his sheets.

Or maybe it’s the addition of your hand clasped with his resting on those same sheets. Or perhaps it’s the sight of your clothes and his, discarded on the bedroom floor in a pool of sunlight, combined with the fact that you’re still wrapped in his arms. Maybe all of that is why it seems better.

That seems more likely.

You lie still for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of his arms and the heat of his skin against your bare back. You are reasonably certain he’s asleep from the steady rhythm of his breath on your neck, but you’re not about to disturb the sleepy calm of the morning to confirm that. 

The clock on his bedside table says it’s just after six. Before last night, you would have said that this was a reasonable time to get up—early enough to ensure that you’re in the office by eight, which would hopefully give you enough time to meet this evening’s deadline, but not so early that it makes you question your life and your choices.

But that was before. Now…well. You suddenly find that your priorities look very different from the comfort of Loki’s bed.

You decide that you didn’t really see the clock. Neither one of you thought to set an alarm last night. Sleeping in was inevitable. That’s not your fault. No harm, no foul.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into a light doze, warmed by the sunlight and Loki’s embrace.

Sometime later, you’re woken by the soft brush of a kiss against your neck.

“Did you sleep well?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, though I did have a bit of a late night,” you say. “Someone kept me up.”

“Really? That was rude of him.”

“Very.”

He’s noticeably—achingly—hard. His lips brush against your neck again. “Perhaps he might make it up to you?”

Your intention is to open your eyes, roll over, and allow yourself to be ravished. But in a development you can only describe as tragic, you happen to catch sight of the clock on his nightstand.

7:38 am.

“Shit,” you say. “It’s almost eight.”

Loki is predictably unconcerned about this. “We don’t have any official hours to keep,” he says, his hand skimming along your ribs and down the curve of your waist. “We have all day.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a ton more to do,” you say, trying to ignore how good he is at kissing your neck or how his hand is drifting down your hip toward the aching pulse between your legs. “We really need every minute.”

“That is true,” he says solemnly. “Perhaps we ought shower together to save time.”

You can’t help but smile. “I kind of feel like you have another agenda.”

“I’d never,” he says.

“The raging hard on pressing against my ass would suggest otherwise.”

You can almost hear him smirk as he gives his hips a teasing little thrust against you. “I contain multitudes.”

You wiggle out of his embrace and slip out of bed. You intend to look back and give him a coquettish look and say something sharp and teasing, but instead, the sight of him takes your breath away. He leans back on his elbows, looking everything like the sort of lounging god you would see depicted in marble at the Parthenon, all chiseled, sharp muscles and clean lines. His cock stands fully erect and deliciously thick, flushed with wanting.

“I can’t help but notice that you didn’t reject the offer,” he says, seemingly fully aware of the path of your gaze. His hand drops to his cock and he strokes himself casually, which very nearly sends your sprinting back to bed.

“You’re right,” you say, trying to keep your cool as you throw him your most beguiling look. “So you should probably hurry up.”

You turn and start walking toward the master bathroom. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he’s following you, his gaze hungrily devouring every inch of skin, eyes dark with purpose.

You walk into the master bathroom and are immediately confronted by several flagrant violations of the residential handbook. The TVA is many things, but it is not the sort of place that deviates from set floor plans, nor is it the sort of place that deviates from those plans to install a rainfall shower and soaking tub—in marble, no less.

You think of the stark, vaguely institutional aesthetic in your own master bath and you can’t decide if you’re annoyed at his rule breaking or jealous that he could get away with it.

“I’m not even going to ask if you got approval for this setup because I know you didn’t,” you say as you reach in to the shower to turn on the tap.

“Do you think of anything other than that cursed personnel manual?” he asks as he comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist and his lips again finding your neck as he draws you to him.

“First of all, it’s not the personnel manual, it’s the residential handbook, which you specifically agreed to abide by when you signed off on your lease.”

He turns you around so you face him and draws you close, a wicked gleam in his eye, “Oh, I’m going to make you forget all about those ridiculous rules.”

“That’s a pretty tall order—oh.”

His hand is slipping between your legs, stroking your already slick folds.

“I think I’m quite capable of inspiring other passions,” he says, rolling his fingers in a broad circle over the hood of your clit

You loop your arms around his shoulders. You can already feel your knees starting to tremble, but you know he won’t let you fall.

“Bold claim,” you say, “I’m going to need more evidence.”

“Oh, you’re going to get a lot of evidence,” he says softly. He curls a finger inside of you, pressing his thumb against the hood of your clit. “You will have no doubts by the time I’m done presenting my argument. You will be weak-kneed with evidence.”

You shudder as he rocks his hand slowly. He’s touching you enough to stoke the flames of desire, making your hips rock helplessly toward his hand as you try to create that extra friction and pressure that you know will send you flying over the edge. But Loki is meticulous—perhaps even ruthless—about not giving in. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs softly when your latest attempt is thwarted. “Slowly.”

Your pleas become louder and more frequent, but his answer remains the same: slowly. You whimper and beg, but he is resolute.

Steam has fogged up the mirrors and is curling around you when your orgasm finally begins to crest. You suddenly find yourself grateful for his pacing as the intensity builds to a level that makes your knees shake.

“That’s it,” he breathes as you tremble in his arms. “You can come for me now, lovely.”

Like magic, the coil inside you snaps at his command and you cry out as your cunt shudders around his slowly thrusting fingers. Your arms looped around his shoulders are the only thing keeping you standing.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your temple as you sag against him. “Beautiful.”

He gives you a moment to get your bearings before leading you into the shower. He sits down on the marble bench, spreading his thighs wide and pulling you into his lap so you straddle his hips. The spray of the water hits your back as he kisses you again, slow and hungry.

You love everything about this. The heat of the water on your back. The closeness. The way his thighs are spread wide. How his cock presses against your bare cunt. The noise he makes low in his throat when you start rubbing yourself against him.

“Need you,” he mumbles against your neck. His hands squeeze your hips and you reach between the two of you to line his cock up at your entrance.

It occurs to you that you could take the opportunity to tease him, to make him beg for you, but pretending that you have any control over your aching need for him is several degrees beyond impossible. So instead, you slowly ease yourself down onto his cock while he groans against your neck, dragging his lips down to the curve of your shoulder.

The feeling of him inside you is still so new that it feels just a little unreal. After all that wanting and yearning and thinking that he was too handsome, too divine, too out of reach to have, he’s suddenly yours and it’s absolutely dizzying. 

You pause for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of unyielding fullness, of connection. Of him.

“All right?” he asks softly.

You open your eyes and his look of sweet concern makes your heart swell. “Yeah,” you say, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “I just—I needed a moment. You feel—” You pause for a moment, searching for the right words, sifting through the effusive and flowery and the things that are true but too early to say. “You just feel really good,” you say.

It sounds wildly inadequate, but he seems to understand, to hear all of the unsaid parts that you’re keeping close to your heart. He could turn away, say it’s too much too soon, that you haven’t even said what you are yet, much less committed to anything serious, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward, drawing you into a slow kiss, his hands framing your face, tracing the curve of your cheek and jaw with the kind of reverence that makes you want to say everything you feel.

“You’re perfect.” He says it in between breaths, with such a disarming sincerity that you can’t bring yourself to try and deflect, to name a flaw or even make a joke.

Later, he will tell you that he was struggling with a similar battle, trying to reconcile how new this was with the depth of feeling that was already blossoming in his chest. He will tell you later that he couldn’t believe you were his, just as you couldn’t believe he was yours, that there was something about you that felt right in a way that made him feel like he knew even then.

But right now, he simply kisses you with a fervor that makes your toes curl and your hips start to move.

It’s only the second time that you’ve done this, but there’s a strange blend of both the new and the familiar. The shape and feel of his body pressed against yours is new, but the way that he moves, the way that he touches you is as though he’s loved you for centuries.

The rhythm you fall into is slow, despite the excuse that this shower was to save time. His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit to add another layer of bliss to the feeling of his cock inside you. Despite your slow pace, your ascent rushes in fast and brilliant as a comet blazing through the night sky. Your back arches, almost as though you’re presenting yourself as an offering to him as you come undone in his arms. Loki watches you with a kind of breathless wonder, brow furrowing in pleasure, his lower lip caught between his teeth at the tight clench of your cunt around his cock.

Your legs are rubbery with pleasure, but you keep going because you need his release as much as your own. You need to feel him empty himself inside of you, to hear the low groan he makes as he unravels, to see the way his eyes flutter shut. You want crescent moon marks on your hips from where his hands gripped you too tightly in that final ascent, physical proof that you can make not just a god forget himself, but Loki specifically. Loki with all his masks and tricks and artful poise; Loki laid bare below you, free from all artifice and glibness, raw and real and just as he is. All the parts of him that make you think that down this path lies something wonderful (not that you’re ready to call it love. Yet).

But Loki is nothing if not predictably unpredictable and he seems determined to make you work before granting you that little glimpse at the heaven that is the god of mischief coming undone beneath you.

“Let me feel you come again,” he murmurs as soon as you catch your breath.

“Is once not enough?” you say, trying and failing to sound cool and calm, like you’re not completely wrecked for him.

“Hardly.” His eyes flash in a way that makes you shiver as he urges your hips into a faster rhythm. “I am not so easily satisfied when my need has been so great.”

You can feel the coil in your hips beginning to tighten again.

“I’ve burned for you for years, my love,” he says, his voice going a little shaky. “Would you deny water to a man dying of thirst?”

You shake your head, your words lost to the oncoming wave of your undoing.

“Then do not deny me your pleasure, I am desperate for you.” He’s panting, barely holding on to his composure. “Now come for me again, let me feel you.”

You are so far gone that it only takes a few more strokes to make you come undone and the first shudder of your climax takes Loki with you.

You savor his pleasure more than your own release, memorizing the sound he makes, the way his lips form a silent plea in the shape of your name until he slides a hand up your neck and pulls you down to kiss him.

His kiss is fierce and hungry at first, but it ebbs to something slower and sweeter as he empties himself into you. He sighs as you tangle your fingers in the wet tendrils of his hair.

It’s a long moment later when you finally break the kiss, resting your forehead against his.

“I don’t think we saved any time,” you say.

He doesn’t even open his eyes. “I cannot overemphasize how much I do not care about being late in these circumstances.”

You grin. “Not even a little?”

He kisses you sweetly on the mouth before opening his eyes, his lips curling into a slow and satisfied smile. “I would be late every day for the rest of my life for just a few seconds of that.”

His words spark something warm in your chest and you try to hide it with a wry look. “I’m not sure that you’re getting the better end of the deal.”

He kisses you softly. “You don’t know how good you feel.”

“You’re one to talk,” you murmur against his lips and he smiles as he deepens the kiss.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours and the feeling of him smiling as he kisses you is a kind of luxury you’ve never imagined. It takes you a while to untangle yourselves, but you can’t find it in yourself to move any faster.

The actual showering part of your shower is slow and unhurried and you find that Loki’s hands are equally gifted at these mundane tasks. His fingers have a knack for finding every stubborn knot in your neck and shoulders, which he explores leisurely under the pretext of washing your back. The press of his fingers unwinds the tension in your shoulders, loosening up muscles that have been too tense for too long.

“You are way too good at this,” you say.

“Just one of my many talents,” he says, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “Though perhaps I ought to stop—I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“I’m so relaxed I’m going to ignore that little bit of sass.”

He chuckles against your shoulder. “You’ll forgive me.”

“We’ll see.”

The sweet, almost chaste kisses he’s been pressing against your neck and shoulders are gradually growing slower, more insistent. When you feel the tip of his tongue draw a quick, teasing line on your neck, you know that you might be in trouble.

His hands slide to your waist, drawing you close enough that you can feel that he’s hard again. 

“I’m sensing some ulterior motives,” you say.

“A bold accusation,” he mumbles against your neck, pressing himself more firmly against you.

“We can’t have sex again,” you laugh.

“Mmm, we could,” he says in between kisses. “There’s nothing stopping us from having sex again.”

“We are already running late—”

“I thought I was very clear about my feelings on timeliness in these circumstances.” He nips at your earlobe and you shiver. “And would you really deprive me of the utter bliss of coming undone inside you?”

“It’s more like rescheduling than depriving you of anything.”

“I’ve waited so long, darling.”

“We just had sex like…less than an hour ago,” you say through a laugh.

“Ah, but the days before that were so terribly long,” he says.

You turn to face him, thinking this will make things easier for you. This turns out to be a grave miscalculation because now you have to contend with the fire in his eyes and the twin flame that it summons low in your hips.

Fuck. 

You are definitely going to have sex again.

His eyes glitter like he knows and he slowly walks you backwards until you’re pressed between him and the shower wall.

“You are absolutely incorrigible,” you say as he peppers your neck with slow, decadent kisses. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t think you’ll be complaining about my mouth in about thirty seconds.”

And with a wicked and hungry grin, he slowly sinks to his knees.

It’s 10:48am when you finally walk into the office.

Even though you are now several hours later than you intended and the stack of files is no less imposing, you feel nothing but a pleasant glow of happiness as you take your seat. Loki sits down in the chair next to you and this time, he sneaks his foot underneath your desk and hooks his ankle under yours.

He catches your eye and smiles. “I can be a little more obvious now.”

You put on your most exaggerated expression of mock seriousness. “Only a little. This is a workplace, after all.”

He adopts a similar expression and nods. “Of course. I imagine there will be paperwork as well.”

“There actually is a form we’ll need to file with HR,” you say.

Loki frowns. “Wait, you’re not being serious about that, are you?”

“Yep. We’ll need to file it by next Friday.”

He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. “Is there anything that this place hasn’t managed to weigh down with the burden of unnecessary bureaucracy?”

“I see we’re in a good mood this morning.” Mobius has arrived, cup of coffee in hand. He nods at Loki and looks at you. “How long has he been raging against the machine?”

“Not terribly long,” you say as Loki rolls his eyes.

“It’s not raging against anything,” he says. “I just fail to see the point of some of this organization’s operational practices.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow at you. “You told him he has to fill out a form, huh?”

“Got it in one,” you say as Loki scowls.

Mobius chuckles and takes a sip of coffee. “You should hear him during performance evaluation season. I get entire monologues. It’s like Hamlet meets HR.”

Loki’s scowl deepens and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in order not to laugh.

“It looks like you made good progress, though,” says Mobius, looking at your completed stacks of files. “I took a look at what you pulled earlier this morning and there’s some good stuff.”

“Oh, good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t think much of the fact that neither one of you was in the office earlier this morning. “What time do you think you’ll need the rest done?”

“Right, about that,” says Mobius. You steel yourself for bad news. “I took a look at what you pulled so far and I think I’ve got what I need.”

You blink at him. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, you’re off the hook,” he says. “Go enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

You look at Loki, who looks just as pleasantly surprised as you feel.

“In fact, you can take the rest of the week off,” says Mobius. “Triple overtime, right? You earned the time.” 

“This feels like a trick,” says Loki. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” says Mobius. “You did good work.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “However—”

“And there’s the catch,” says Loki.

“There’s no catch,” says Mobius. He gestures at you with his coffee cup. “I’m just going to need you both to turn in the relevant paperwork to HR by next Friday.”

Loki sighs, though you can tell he’s fighting a smile. “There’s absolutely no privacy here.”

Mobius raises his eyebrows. “You’re playing footsie under the desk. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

You look at Loki and shrug. “He’s got a point.”

“You’re taking his side?”

You roll your eyes and stand up. “Well, you can sulk about it if you’d like, but I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my weekend.” You share a sly, secret smile with Mobius. “I’ll see you next week, Mobius.”

It takes Loki approximately twenty seconds to catch up with you.

“And you say I’m incorrigible,” he says as he falls into step beside you.

You smile at him. “I think you’ll get over it.”

“I’ll consider it.” He catches your band, fingers twining with yours. “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

“Hadn’t decided,” you say, biting back a smile. “Did you have any suggestions?”

“Well, I’d like to start by going back to bed.”

“To sleep?” you tease. 

“Eventually.” He licks his lips. “And since our respective schedules have been cleared for the week, we’ll be able to take our time.”

The hunger in his eyes is still so new and intoxicating that you can’t help the shiver that works its way up your spine.

You give him a slow smile. “Lead the way.”

[bumblesimagines]

Headcanon:

Being Oberyn's lover

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

~~~

Oberyn is an infamous man for several reasons, some of which include the rumors of his usage of poison during duels and an interest in the dark arts. Posion-laced swords and dark arts aside, one of the most notable things about him is his multitude of lovers. From men to women, nobles to brothel workers, Oberyn is no stranger to sex and hardly a stranger to love. He may have a wandering eye but his heart remains fiercely loyal to his lovers/paramours and his many daughters whom he deeply cares for despite their bastard status. 

As such, it is no surprise that you catch Oberyn's eye during one of his trips with Ellaria throughout Westeros. He needs little convincing to speak to you and is as smooth as butter when he begins flirting. While he enjoys giggling maidens or blushing lords, his interest spikes when you come off as indifferent to his charm. He is a Dornishman and Dornishmen love a challenge, especially when he notices your eyes linger on him for far too long to be uninterested. 

Of course, Oberyn mentions his interest to Ellaria, for she is essentially his wife and the mother of many of his daughters. Ellaria provides her approval and encouragement, even going as far as befriending you and acting as some sort of wingwoman to her lover. You quickly put together her involvement in Oberyn's plan to woo you and while it's unusual at first, you learn that it's not so odd in Dorne. A cat-and-mouse game ensues and Oberyn's interest becomes all the more clear to others.

Oberyn's main love languages are gift-giving and physical touch, although he'll provide every other love language known to mankind. Since Oberyn's interest extends past sex, you'll be properly courted by him and this will include countless lavish gifts. He is a prince, after all, and his wealth knows little bounds. You can expect a variety of gifts, from clothes to brooches and anything you can think of. You mention wanting something? Expect that very thing sitting in your room the next day. Oberyn is also very handsy with his lovers and always has a hand on them or has them sit on his lap. He's still a prince and gentleman, however, so he will keep his hands to himself until you are comfortable enough with him. Once he has that green light, expect to find his hand resting on your waist or back, and don't be surprised if it wanders.

 You nod along to the lord as he speaks, absentmindedly listening to the conversation about lands and such. None of it really interests you as you're the thirdborn in your family and the likelihood of you ever needing to know much of what he spoke of was slim. The conversation shifts onto his children as he recalls a funny story and then begins the prodding.

"I hear you remain unwed." The Lord hums thoughtfully and strokes his beard. "We've been searching for someone to wed my second eldest-"

"My Lord," A familiar voice greets from behind and sends a welcomed jolt up your spine, unable to contain the smile before it breaks out on your face. Oberyn steps up beside you and his lips curl up in a genuine smile for you, the palm of his hand pressing soothingly against your lower back and slowly creeping to wrap his fingers around your hip. He holds eye contact, even as he speaks to the man. "I'm afraid I'll have to steal this one from you, My Lord." He simply states and without waiting for a response, he sweeps you away from the sputtering lord. 

"Oberyn," You laugh softly and send an apologetic look over your shoulder right before Oberyn leads you fully out of the room. He spins around on his heel and cups your face, his warm skin pressing against yours. His eyes lack their typical sultriness or grumpiness, instead replaced with a fond look that makes you want to look away. He leans forward and kisses you gently. 

"How are you, dearest?" 

Once Oberyn manages to convince the head of your family, you find your belongings packed and ready for Dorne. Oberyn and Ellaria show great excitement and contentment over this, talking about all the things they wish to show you and the people they want you to meet. Dorne is a hot, desert and mountain-covered region but Sunspear is a gorgeous castle surrounded by the ocean and the shadow city. Oberyn's family is welcoming, if not a bit exhausted with him, but they're still warm and kind to you. Though Doran is semi-distant at first, his children are much friendlier and happy to get to know you. After Doran and his children, Ellaria introduces you to the Sand Snakes, Oberyn's countless daughters. Their reactions vary and some are more welcoming than others but all are accepting of their father's decision to take you as a serious lover.

While eager to show you his home, Oberyn first gets you acquainted with your new bedroom and the bed. Oberyn is a versatile lover, although he enjoys being the one in control most times depending on his mood. You can expect to spend a lot of time in bed with Oberyn, and sometimes even with Ellaria. Oberyn is a giver and he'll often have you pinned beneath him until you can take no longer before peppering you with kisses and cooing gentle words in your ear. 

Oberyn is a thoughtful and dutiful lover who ensures you'll never feel left behind or cast away. However, you must be fine with sharing him with others, and even if you find this difficult at times, Ellaria will provide soothing words of advice and comfort. Oberyn will ensure to push away any worries or insecurities and he'll even encourage you to seek out your own lovers, just as long as you always return to him. 

If you are a lady, you can surely expect to fall with child soon after arriving in Dorne. Ellaria, who basically becomes your sister, tends to you and helps you through the process of pregnancy and labor. Oberyn will grow protective during this time and you'll often find him resting his hand over the bump or speaking to it. He'll ensure you are being treated with the utmost care and by the very best. Whether son or daughter, Oberyn will love his child, and the Sand Snakes will be incredibly protective of their newest sibling. 

Oberyn is one of those lovers that still courts you well into the relationship. He continues providing gifts and trying to make you swoon all over just because he feels like it. Getting with Oberyn means having a thoughtful, open-minded lover, a kind sister, and countless deadly stepdaughters willing to fight in your honor if they have to. 

[tf2occontest]

The Therapist VS THE HUNTER VS The Barman

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

The Therapist

@hazardtoons

Image credit: @/hazardtoons

You wouldn’t expect an organisation like Team Fortress Industries to invest in something like mental health treatment for its hardened soldiers. The one giving them this generous care is a woman only known by those who work at the company as Therapist - a seemingly well-intentioned lady there to give everything from a shoulder to cry on to someone to seek advice from.

There is a catch, however. Not all the information she gathers from her clients is used for good. Underlying that comforting presence is another tool of oppression used in the company.

THE HUNTER

@scozthewoz

Image credit: @/scozthewoz

hailing from the london countrysides of the united kingdom, this insatiable butcher with the cheshire grin is a teenage expert at the art of paid homocide, despite how squirrely she may look! her presentation is a vauge riddle, hinted at with hyena-like cackles, a cruelty behind her constantly bared teeth she tends to mask as friendliness. she prides herself on her toys, each of them meticulously handmade and carefully hidden like snakes in the sand, every beartrap or snare serving nicely to hold her prey in place and maim them as it does so just in case one pesky rabbit weasles out! this viscera-lusting vermin prefers a more hands-on approach when she crawls out of the walls to play, often putting her guns to the wayside in favour of her beloved knife -- and on occasion, her teeth.

a taste of blood goes a long way for her motivation, you know.. why don't we give her a little push?

The Barman (Thomas Armstrong)

@trypo-p

Image credit: @/trypo-p

Born and raised in Stratford, Ontario, Barman is an affable gentleman who specializes in the art of mixology. Among the mercenaries, Barman is relatively tame in comparison; he gets along with everyone and is seen as an almost "parental" figure to most of the team. Whether it be telling old stories of his life back in Canada, or smacking Scout on the back of his neck for forgetting his manners, he has his ways of making the team remember that he's their elder.

Most of the man's time is spent in his makeshift bar in the team's base, or in his own room. That, of which, contains a multitude of model train sets. Sadly Barman was unable to live his dream of becoming a train conductor, but he can still lose himself in the fantasy when he's alone in his room with his models.

When he's in his bar, however, he gets to have casual conversation among his teammates. During his time working for the team he had become quite friendly with Demoman and Spy, often spending nights with them at the bar after a long battle. He'd listen to everyones worries, give them advice, then laugh the rest of the night away to lighten up the mood.

[maudie-duan]

Fuck Monday Blues When You Can Have a Monday Blurb! Based on @avas-queen-black song request<- For our new Monday Blurb Series!!! Yay!!

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: Fem!reader, A quick little angsty sweet moment caught between two lovers.

Life doesn't always promise sanctuary, but in each other, you found refuge.

When you were young, you thought love would equate to a single definition, but that was foolish, and it didn't take you long to realize that love contained a multitude, complex for every human it happened upon—a single word that seemed to defy a complete explanation—It was always you hoping that your search would lead to the bounty that is love, but that wasn't how it worked, because love is multi-faceted, like the light reflected through a glass prism—a revelation that came slow, learned in the rituals you created, in the gestures big and small.

And in the slow moments between heartbeats and flesh, it found you when you least expected it—in the simple gestures that came over time, like waking to a mug of tea he left on the nightstand waiting for you to start your morning, or in the way you found solace in folding his t-shirts just so, knowing he'd probably never notice, but you kept doing it anyway. Each new thing was a discovery, and when he started leaving sweet little notes in your pockets, you followed suit. Every note, like a tiny paper boat carrying words across the ocean of your separate days, would become the things you cherish most.

Somewhere along the way he had become your sunday morning calm, the two of you treasuring those rare mornings when you were able to steal time from the world—the two of you sharing the couch, reading in silence, legs tangled together, occasionally reading passages aloud when words seemed too beautiful to keep to yourselves.

These sweet nothings that had become the fabric of life, your life, his life.

These tiny, almost seemingly trivial moments, became your everyday—unexpectedly forging the footing beneath you, the foundation that had held steady when everything else threatened to crumble, especially on those days when the world wanted to get the best of you.

And tonight was one of those nights.

After a long, grueling day, you just wanted to leave the world at your doorstep. The weight of it looming over you as the door clicked shut behind you and you were met with silence—the kind of silence that wraps around you after a day that's stolen all your kind words, every functioning thought you wanted to save for later, leaving nothing but bone-deep exhaustion trying to settled into your marrow with a grief you hoped you could shake.

And when you drop your keys. They clatter against the entry table in that hollow way that seems to echo through an empty apartment like the exhale of a weighted breath, bringing a finality to the empty space—except it isn't empty.

You find him in the kitchen, his back to you, those strong shoulders relaxed beneath a worn t-shirt as he stirs something on the stove, and like a dream the late evening sun filters through the window above the kitchen sink, casting him in a honeyed light, and for a moment, you just watch him, taking every inch of him in, this man—your pillar, your strength–Harry entirely in his element, unaware of your presence, simply existing in his own rhythm, and you stand there for a moment unsure if you wanted to disturb the tranquil hum of his world as the melody of a soft guitar filled the kitchen, an old playlist playing in the background setting the tone of his peaceful mood. 

"You know you didn't have to cook, babe, I told you I would be late," you speak up, your voice softer than intended, but the words feel like a chance to finally empty your pockets, all the tiny stones you had to pick up along the way, all the chaos of the day, weighing you down.

When he hears your voice, he turns, and that smile, god, that smile, how it still made your stomach flip, and you observe the way the corner of his mouth pulls up first, followed by those dimples that somehow seem to deepen every time they're directed at you.

"Didn't hear you come in," he says, wiping his hands on a dish towel tucked into his waistband. "And I know I don't have to, but want to, love."

With those simple words, you move closer, drawn to him like a sunflower under the warmth of the sun, no matter the setting, no matter the space and it’s all you need, the buzz of his energy drawing you in, his presence enough to cast a bridge, your safe haven.

"Rough day?" he questions, gently reaching out to caress your cheek, and his thumb lingers as his green eyes survey  your face.

"Just long," you answer, leaning into his touch, “Nothing that I want to bog you down with…”

Harry's eyes are trained on your face, now, an uncertainty pulling between his brows. He knows you're holding back, but he doesn’t push, and right before you let go, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I've had a late start myself...dinner is probably another twenty minutes. May I get you a glass of wine, Darling? I just opened it." And without answering, you peer over at the glasses that are already set out on the counter, the gesture tugging at the knot forming in your throat.

"That would be lovely, thank you—" you force, clearing away the burn, and his eyes sweep over your face before moving to pour you both a glass of wine.

As he pours the wine, you moved in beside him, pressing your lips to his shoulder, the kiss lingering as you breathed in his scent, and this familiar smell has you on the verge of breaking, because these have been the moments in your life that you had wished for, because you had wished for Harry, for someone exactly like him. 

The man that stood before you was your person, the one person you've never had to be anything other than yourself with, and all day you had been waiting for this very moment, for the very second that you knew you could let the weight of your day go, but as you gazed into his eyes while he handed you your glass, you saw the exhaustion etched into his features, and you remembered the text you got when he needed to vent earlier that day, and now there was a piece of you that wanted to be strong, wanted to be his pillar.

But then he said, "I've been thinking about you all day," his voice low, and there's a small smile playing at his lips, "Kept checking the time, excited for you to get home."

The thought of him thinking of you, while drowning in the chaos of your day, makes your chest tighten with a longing you could only feel for him, the kind of longing that aches in your bones even when they're near, and as your fingers find the hem of his shirt, playing with the soft fabric all you can say is:

"Yeah?" Because you're not sure anything else will come out. Then you pull yourself up on the counter, as Harry walks back over to stir the pot on the stove.

You swallow another mouthful of wine, letting the warmth spread through your chest, watching him, and when you finally gather enough strength, you simply say, "I missed you too," and it feels like a confession, like a prayer you had cursed at the sky all day. Your eyes are trained on his face as you watch him smile down into the pot in front of him. "Can I help with anything?" you follow up, though you already know his answer.

"Almost done. Just rest, I’ve got it. Tell me about your day, Love," he asks, the smile never leaving his face, giving you the perfect side profile view as a strand of hair falls into his face, and he runs a hand through his hair, turning to you, your legs swinging gently, and when you begin to talk, Harry focuses in, listening like he always does—like your words are lyrics to every song playing out in his head–and as you unload, the burden of your day starts to lift, and you wonder why you even held back in the first place.

When Harry moves in front of you, resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, his green eyes never leave yours, you continue, "My boss just didn’t understand—" But then you stop mid-sentence when you notice Harry smiling at you, that soft, wholesome smile he saves for moments like this.

"What?" you ask, but for some reason, you're questioning yourself, wondering if you're being too much.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head slightly. "I just like watching you talk."

And even though you roll your eyes, you feel the knot burning at the back of your throat again. "You're being weird," you tell him, pushing at his shoulder, and your eyes dart to your lap.

"Always silly—but isn't that what you love about me," he pokes, his hands smoothing up your thighs and he leans down trying to catch your eye, but you can't bring yourself to look at him, because suddenly it all feels like too much, like a kindness you don't deserve, every emotion filling your body conflicted, wanting, but exhausted, needy and desperate all at the same time, yet shamed that you could even question this moment—question him, his authenticity even though you know it’s real.

"Hey..." he pushes, still trying to meet your eye, and you shake your head, smoothing your lips together, sealing all your words behind your lips.

“Listen…look at me, love.” He starts, hooking a bent finger under your chin as the tears begin to fall, “In our world, within these walls. You don’t have to be the pillar of strength I know you give for the world…okay? It’s just you and me. You know–and maybe I don’t say it enough, but one of the things I admire most about you are all the soft edges you try to hide. Do you know how many times you blow me away with all the astonishing thoughts that seem to drift through your mind so effortlessly? All the ones that I’m so lucky to hear.”

You sniffle in a deep breath, silent tears streaming, and when he says, “Darling, those days…the days that you share your world, your thoughts…I feel like the luckiest person in the world. Do you know why?”

Every word aching in your chest seems to fail you in that moment, and you shake your head, unsure of what he’s going to say, “ I feel like the luckiest person in the world because I get to have this version of you. The times when your guard is down, and you wrap yourself up in my arms, are the times I know I’ll get some of your most delicate thoughts, that you’ll give me a glimpse of your world, and it’s like magic…something I can’t even explain, and that makes me so happy.”

And his words break what little strength you’ve been holding onto, his words a gentle kindness you had been searching for in the world all day, “It's just hard sometimes…” you whisper, forcing the simple words out as you sling your arms around his neck, your legs circling around his body drawing him closer.

"I know it's hard...But I don't ever want you to think this isn't a safe space for you. This is your space, your world, your home, fuck the world and whatever it's trying to take from you. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together. Okay?" and his grip on you tightens, and when your body goes slack in his arms, his embrace only deepens.

These were the sweet nothings—his warm body pressed to yours, your warm breath filling his neck, now the sweetest gift you could have ever been given, his words now the clarity to every unspoken word that lived within in the doubt that threatened to consume you, in the moments of chaos, in all the push and shove of the outside world–these words–his words only solidified what you already knew, what you already held onto every time he stood before you, everytime you closed your eyes and woke to find him there next to you, your safe harbor, your whole world wrapped up into one person, because he was home. 

A/N: Monday Blurbs is a new series I want to take on. If you have a favorite song that you want to turn into a quick little blurb let me know! Any song, Any Genre, Any Theme.

Send your requests here<-

Taglist: @sassamanda77 @panini @unfuckwitablenarry

@triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @lizsogolden

@spinninc @iloveharrystyles04 @mema10 @harryyloverrr

@avas-queen-black @starshollowgazette

[zalrb]

Okay I've just discovered your Nick and June posts and I am OBSESSED!!

Here's something interesting that I'd love for you to expand on.

In 5x10 when Nick punches Lawrence, I think that's the first time in 5 seasons that he's actually lost his cool. Alot of his emotions are telegraphed on his face in beautifully subtle ways, but with the punch, it's the first time he's had a real external reaction that he just want able to control. It's super interesting to me!!

Thank you! If you haven't, you might want to watch my edits of them too! They're always fun for me to do so I encourage people who want to watch them to watch them! Playlist of all the vids is below:

And you're right about 5x10! Absolutely. I think the outburst is a combination of a couple of things.

1. This isn't the first time June's life has been in danger but it is the first time that Nick wasn't there in some capacity to, if not prevent harm

or help her escape

then save her life

Even when she's being tortured in 4x03, he knows where she is, he has an idea of what's happening

and he's doing everything in his power to make sure she gets out

In 4x05, he doesn't know where she is, but he's keeping tabs as best as he can

and he didn't think he would need to have that in Canada, he thought that she was finally safe and when he did get an inkling of danger, he tried to do what he always did with a person he at least somewhat trusted

and it didn't work, he wasn't there, he couldn't help

and her safety is of paramount importance to him

That feeling of devastation for him must've been astronomical.

2. I think all of this was exacerbated by the fact that this season was spent with Nick actively working against his own emotions rather than simply hiding them. Even though he was taciturn or silent and had to communicate with a shift in his expression or a movement or a subtle gesture, he never attempted to repress his love for June, he never tried to lie to himself about her and now, he's doing his best to lie to himself, and repress his love, and be honourable to his wife and, the instinct, and the impulse to be with June, to overtly, expressly love her is there, it's very much there, but he ignores it

and that must've felt like suffocating

that these two things that each contain a multitude of other nuanced things converge and the only way for him to react is with an outburst of emotion

plus there's the fact that, when given the opportunity, Nick hits the men who have harmed June or put June in harm's way :)

Those are my thoughts on it anyway!

[arknights-imagines]

Hiya 🥹 Exe here!! Sbsjss so here is the Federico imagine I flash-wrote at 3am in one hour... that I mentioned in a post earlier today lolsksks

'Rico is my favourite and it made me v v happy to write something for him for you guys... Even if no one asked for this specifically 😭🥹🤲!! And also!! This marks the first writing on here for Federico's alter aaaa 😭🥰

Anywho! I won't ramble too long lolsnsjsj as usual I sincerely hope I've done Federico justice here 🥹 his character has really grown...!!

And I really hope you all enjoy 💘!!!

(also trying some new formatting out sbshhs... We'll see if I end up keeping it 🥹🫶)

Taglist for Executor/All Writing!:

@vesvic

@donsofwaste

@dracomultiverse

@marahuyos

Cor Novum

in which the Saint decides that now, he will acknowledge his heart; for you, he will properly ponder love.

Imagine format; very mixed perspectives, some bits from the Operator and some bits from the reader, written in second person!

Contains: Executor the Ex Foedere, gender-neutral Doctor as the reader, established relationship, Executor calls you 'love', LOTS of mentions of things and references and stuff from Executor/Executor the Ex Foedere's archive files/Operator Records, mentions of possible spoilers for the events of Hortus de Escapismo and Zwillingstürme im Herbst, LOTS of exploring of Federico's character, fluff and romance wbhshss 💕! Also not fully beta read so please excuse any errors 🥹🙏

Word count: a bit over 2.5k!

——————–

Executor would argue, the first catalyst for change in him - was you.

Since the signing of his contract with Rhodes Island, of course, a multitude of other catalysts have kindled the amassing change. His appointing as Saint had taught him faith, every death at the Sanctilaminium Ambrosii had taught him perspective, his pursuit of Arturia in Zwillingstürme had taught him patience, and the blue hue of the sky taught him solace.

The resulting changes of these were utterly irrefutable, so much so that everyone who watched or spoke with Federico now would have all confidence in stating that His Beatitude, Saint Federico Giallo could no longer be synonymous with the Notarial Hall Executor, Federico Giallo. His heart had only begun to stir, his brain had only begun to stray from logic, since his title of Saint, they would argue.

Federico, however, argued otherwise.

No; not his new role, not the unexplainable lives lost on the Sanctilaminium Ambrosii, not his long-awaited confrontation with his soror, not even that day at the Art Gallery. While he would not say these had no piece in the growth of his heart, it was you, and it had always been you, whom touched it very first.

After all - you had taught him love.

…

Previously, many would joke that Executor was your lover only in title, because they never would witness proof of any loving; seeing the both of you on dates or outings was a rarity that rivaled a cloudy day in Laterano, his public displays of affection were never more than handholding hidden under the loose sleeves of his old uniform or a brush of his lips against your temple, and any warmth ever in his expression when he turned to face you was simply too miniscule for anyone to notice but you.

“Hey…don’t tell anyone I asked, but…Is Federico really dating the Doctor? Or, did he just make that up to get those people from the R.I Engineering Department to stop asking him on dates?”

“I know, right?! I mean, I’ve never even seen the two of them kiss!”

“Who’d wanna date that hardass, anyway? Besides the looks, what could possibly be the win there?”

“Maybe he’s really good in bed?”

“Him?!”

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when, one afternoon when you were hurrying down the hall towards your office with Amiya at your side and a stack of paperwork in your hands, the ever-stoic Saint paused his stride in the opposite direction upon seeing you. He halted you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, leaned down to close the difference in height - and unceremoniously, wordlessly, expression unchanging, pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before continuing along.

Suddenly, where there was only a brush of lips when he had ascertained nobody was looking, is now a forehead kiss whenever he might see you. The kisses were not the limit of it, either.

Soon came dessert boxes containing your favourite sweet just in time for lunch; “Love, please accept this. It aligns 91% with your preferences, and I also noticed you viewing similar desserts from the menu of Rhodes Island’s cafeteria. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Then he took your paperwork upon himself, double how much he already used to; “I have taken care of your paperwork as of last night. I organized the recruitment reports alphabetically by candidate surname, categorized the Operation summary reports by completion status, and sorted all letter mail addressed to you by sender, and date sent. Hm? Why?” He’d tilt his head, halo catching a glint of the lights overhead, “Should I have an exact reason for performing favours for my significant other?”

And, incredulous as it was, compliments began from him, albeit as best as someone as plainly-spoken as Federico Giallo could manage; “You look as nice as always, love.”

The whispers lingered in the hallways for days, somehow even squirming their way into the cubicles of the Notarial Hall offices. Had he been put under the hex or spell of someone’s Originium Arts? Had he grown sick of people not believing your relationship?

Federico cared not at all, as was expected. His explanation came only to you, and only when you ask.

…

You piped up one evening in your office, head pillowed in Federico’s lap after he had insisted you rest after hours of paperwork, “Federico?” Affection melted the ice hue of his irises to an azure blue when his eyes flick to yours peering up at him, and his fingers squeezed yours ever-gently where both your hands were intertwined over your tummy, “Yes, love?”

The Sankta had always softened around you, toward you; however, it had only ever been visible in the inch of tension his shoulders lost, in the slight dilation of his pupils, in the way his brows and jaw untightened by a hair. Now, adoration touched upon each of his facial features, he allowed it with no protest or restraint. Your head tilted slightly as you blinked up at him, eyes rounded like a curious doe, earning a tiny quirk of one platinum white brow from your lover.

Restraint — restraint is what Federico is suddenly devoid of, you realize.

The Federico Giallo who had never seen value in understanding, in considering, in allowing his emotions to wander, maintained a vice-like grip on his heart and commanded all actions by order of his systematic, logical brain. No physical contact, as it was too distracting to his duties; no time spent on determining the destructive effect of his chosen method to execute his task, if it proved to be the most efficient one; no attention spared toward anything not regarding a mission or his duties, because there was no benefit in such. Many had assumed such was only possible, either because he was a robot or he was devoid of any and all emotion.

You understood, however. It was never that Executor was unfeeling, instead that he had leashed, handcuffed, and tied up his emotions into inescapable bounds to be never loosened. It was logical, you supposed; emotion would do little to benefit the Sankta with the black-ringed halo, the ever-set jaw, and pale blue eyes fixed onto his mission.

Yet now, the Federico Giallo who’s lap you rested your head on tonight - the Sankta with the black-ringed halo, head always finding itself in a contemplative tilt, and wandering eyes that notice too much - had loosened the aforementioned restraints.

When you snapped back from your thoughts, a smile crawled slowly upon your lips when you noticed Federico had allowed his affection to linger on his face for so long, it was tangible; his softened facial features now made him akin to a vanilla gelato scoop from one of the Lateran ice cream carts.

You finally disturbed the silence, beating Federico to it before he could open his lips to ask why you’re staring, “What’s up with all the…you know?’ Your free hand lifted to gesture vaguely to your desk, occupied by stacks of Federico-organized paperwork and a now-empty sweet box from one of Laterano’s dessert carts, “You loving me extra lately?” When his eyebrows knitted together slightly at your wording, you added in a rush, “Not that I’m complaining! It’s just…”

He allowed you to trail off completely before he replied, “You are referring to the sudden increase in my acts of affection.” His gaze shifted away from yours to flick between the paperwork, the dessert box, then to the spot on your forehead he’d designated as the receiving area for his kisses. A nod from you followed, “Yes. I didn’t…say something that made you feel forced to…be more affectionate, did I?” The possibility of this caused uncertainty to waver your tone now, and a concerned frown replaced your smile, “Federico, you don’t have to be more ‘lovey’, I love how you ar--” “No, you did not.” As if to apologize for cutting you off, Federico tightened his hold on your hand once more, “Please do not misunderstand…this was not incited by anything you have said. Simply, I…”

The Sankta paused, lips closing and eyes casting off to the side before he lifted the hand not holding yours to cradle his chin; a gesture you’ve now learned meant he was considering his words. He never used to do that before.

“His Holiness advised me to ponder my actions more thoroughly. To wonder my reason for doing something, and the reasons others might perceive. To take further action even if it is unnecessary for my mission or duties.” Formality cooled his tone again upon the mention of the Pope, yet affection lingered on his words like sugar stuck on his tongue, “...recently, after completing a book I had purchased in hopes to gain further understanding, I had come to realize that you will struggle to perceive my affection in its whole unless I express it through multiple outlets.” His hand lowered from his chin to return to his side, not without brushing his fingers over the ends of your hair in a motion you question the coincidence of, “After concluding this, I determined the only solution was to begin to display the affection I hold for you in various ways.”

Your heart melted into liquid within your ribcage at that, and you stammered out in an attempt to distract him from the rosy hue rising to your cheeks - though, considering it was Federico, he had undoubtedly noticed already -, “Wait, wait, what was the book about?”

“Love languages.” The steadiness he explained this in could convince someone this was an academic topic, “In particular, the book described the giving of gifts, physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service.”

Your eyes widened and your lips fell agape with a noise of realization, “Oooh. I see now…that’s where all that came from. You learned it from the book!” In a swift motion, you rose to sit up and lean your body against Federico’s shoulder, curling up much like a kitten to a furnace. No tension stiffened his body upon the contact - and his arm slid around your waist with protective weight, to press you oh-slightly-closer. “Yes.”

His confirmation was paired with a nod, a miniscule movement as to not disturb your comfortable position as you tucked your face against his throat, “The book had explained as well, that as a partner, I utilize the ‘love language’ you most prefer. As I did not know which was your preference…I decided the most beneficial course of action was to trial each one until I could determine which you were most receptive to.” His voice quieted as he trails off, murmuring to himself against your hairline, a new habit you had noticed more frequently these days, “However…I am concerned I lack proficiency in the method of ‘words of affirmation’...I have referred to your appearance as ‘nice’ seven times consecutively now…”

Heat blazed on your cheeks now, and you were unsure if it was from embarrassment, upon the realization that Federico had been scrutinizing each and every of your reactions to his new acts of affection, or if it was from delight, buzzing around your heart at the fact that he had planned so elaborately only to find the best method to love you. Your head ducked further under his chin to nuzzle your face against his chest, cheek pressed just over his heartbeat before your voice left muffled against the fabric of his uniform, “Federico…you didn’t have to do all that. I really, really liked it, but that was a lot of hassle for you. You could’ve just asked…”

While his arm remained where it was draped around your waist, the other lifted in a slow movement until his hand was cradling your nape; his fingers were expectedly cool, and yet yet his touch is oh-so-warm in contrast, and you did not fail to notice how hands that used to hesitate over your skin settle with more ease now, “Yes, perhaps. However, the book had advised against such, as it would be…unromantic.”

You snorted before you could catch it, head whipping from his chest to tilt your face upward at him, “Mmph-- Why are you worrying about that? Federico, I’m not with you because you’re romantic.” The slight furrow between his eyebrows returned again, this time paired with the tiniest downward tugs of the corners of his lips, and you jolted when your poor wording settled on you, “No, no, I mean…”

A stutter, before you exhaled with a sheepish grin. Instead of words first, your hand rose to tuck stray platinum hair away from his eyes, the stubborn bits along one side of his face where he’d grown it longer, to allow time for your flusteredness to fade and your words to find you again. Federico’s head tilted towards your touch, his cheek catching a brush of your fingers.

“I mean…” You began again, hushed this time; his eyes were rapt on you yet rounding at the edges once more until it seemed like his pupils were melting, and you forced yourself to swallow the hitch that threatened to disturb your words at the sight, “I don’t love you any different for any reason…much less the ‘love language’ you ‘speak’ to me with. I love you because…you’re Federico.”

For a moment, by the slight tilt of his head and downward of his eyes, you were unsure if he would understand; too vague, too rooted in emotions he has not become acquainted with yet, too cheesy. You opened your mouth to elaborate, though your words paused on your tongue when you swear you notice the corners of his lips tilted upward by millimeters. Instead of questions - though he seemed full of them lately -, his reply came as a nod against your hand and a word softened to a murmur, “...I understand.”

Federico leaned in to close the space between you, tilting your head with the hand he still had resting on your nap; a breath, then his lips pressed an air-light kiss to the particular spot on your forehead. He lingered for one moment, two moments, three, before he retracted enough to find your eyes again, “I too, love you as you are, and as you will be.” A pause, hesitance, however restraint no longer surged forth to halt him and strangle his affection, “...and I no longer see a beneficial reason to hesitate in expressing this.”

Your hands tightened slightly where they’d slid to rest on his chest in some nonsensical worry he would pull away, shoulders perking up with a held breath as your heartbeat suddenly thud-thud-thudded in your ears. In your few moments of wide-eyed silence, you wondered if Federico would decide what he has said is too far and renege on it.

No; his softened gaze remained fixed to yours, his arm remained around your waist, his hand remained cradling the base of your head, and his lips remained shut. Even his halo and wings seemed to still completely. Not a single semblance of his previous restraint tugged at even the corner of his sleeve.

A second thud-thud-thud became unmistakable under one of your palms, and for a moment you were sure Federico had caused your heart to swell so much it had duplicated, before your eyes flicked down and you realized. Under where one of your palms was placed upon his chest, his own heartbeat is hurried, loud - and full.

The twitch in his jaw was telltale that Federico considered words, though aware as he was that they rarely favour him well, he instead moved. A gentle hand lifted; one too gentle to be the same one that operated a shotgun that had taken more lives than he had lived years, too gentle to be the same one that had pulled the trigger to send bullets between eyes or into chests with finality, too gentle to be the same one that has torn the heart clean out of an Originium beast.

It raised to rest over your own and pressed it firmer against his heartbeat.

“Love.” The term of endearment left his lips more of a breath rather than a word, “This is acceptable?”

You chimed with mirth, hand pressing closer in order to catch the stutter of his heart when you do, “More than acceptable, Federico.”

Undoubtedly, this was not the same Sankta whose certificate you had received that very first day. This Sankta wore a new title, wore a different uniform, and had a heart grown too large. And yet, undoubtedly, this Sankta - with the same blue eyes, platinum locks, and obsidian halo and wings - was still Executor. You could never doubt the softened hue of Federico’s eyes, like the sky on a sunny day, when they settle upon yours.

And likewise, Federico now found it was impossible to deny that his heart - the one he understands he swore in oath only to Laterano, the one he should be discarding if he is to serve the Law as expected of him, the the once racing so freely beneath your palm now - has ever belonged to anyone or anything but you.

Tysm for reading 🥹 Executor loves you v much! 🫶!! All my writing is dedicated to all of you guys and to loving AK's Operators~

[omghallucinations]

seventeen mingyu: in the weeds edition

degrees, outer planets, chart patterns, ascendant complex, asteroids, aspects, upcoming saturn return??? we got it all

dude i'm so mad. i'm so mad!!! as i started writing this i was all, sure i like mingyu, but i'm not wild about mingyu, i mean everyone goes wild for mingyu, i want to spread the love!! okay!! yet here we are.

his chart bewitched and beguiled me. so intriguing! multiplicity! got mommy issues? daddy issues? a healthy attachment style?? mingyu will appeal!! however, monogamy.... probably not gonna be his bag, so keep that one in mind lmao.

29° neptune: it's giving manic pixie dream boy

ok neptune stood out to me right off the bat.

you know when i see a 29° planet i'm always gonna talk about it

neptune aspects 5/9 of his planets, and his ascendant and his MC

neptune co-rules his moon, south node, and his MC 2x (pisces, neptune decan)

a prominent/notable neptune often means people simply love to project the hell onto you, so it's not an uncommon chart situation for idols.

looking at this chart, mingyu can be someone's dream boy no matter what the dream is. he has qualities that can fit into any archetype. you want assertive and competent? he can do that. you want sweet and accommodating? he can do that too. you want clever, you want a himbo, you want funny, you want serious? he can do it all!

-> do being the key word. he does contain multitudes and is genuinely multifaceted (gemini rising, mutable cross) but the neptune factor is also projection. he can play a part, but also people often read into him whatever they want to see.

29 is the anaretic degree, it says PAY ATTENTION TO ME. it's about to pass into the next sign, which adds a few fun layers:

+ skill and proficiency: he's a good actor, fits into social roles easily, has a kind of healing energy for people, very sensitive, idealistic, could have some psychic qualities lowkey or just is very intuitive. don't get too excited!! 29° is not considered a benefic, because what exactly is beneficial about having to finish a project? this is not fun and fancy free 0° just starting shit and doesn't have to worry about finishing it!! finishing stuff sucks so much and this is in capricorn, the pressure is immense!! ->capricorn neptune usually vibes kind of.... self-sacrificial. he might find it a little easy to martyr himself when no one asked him to do all that -> 8th house--well let's amp neptune's needs the fuck up, shall we?? anything in a water house is karmic as shit. also he is intuitive as fuck. walk into a room and he knows how eeeeeeverybody is feeling within 10 seconds. there are a lot of psychic qualities here, and moon conjunct south node can he see ghosts bro??? wouldn't put it past him. + urgency: as neptune is about to leave capricorn, he might feel this desperation to do and acquire as much here as possible. we're gonna see spirituality, merging with others, escapism! there's a sense of need here, the void calls him, he must do it all!!! -> neptune is water, altered states, can't say no -> 8th house is I Feel Too Much I See The Depths I Gotta Crash Out -> capricorn is I Can't Let Go of My Responsibilities Without SEVERE ASSISTANCE -> 29° is SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING... hm. be careful about alcohol, buddy, i'm sensing... binge drinking? + tests: time for final neptune exams! lowkey mingyu might have some addictive tendencies for real. either way he's gonna face some crises around escapism for sure, also probably crises to do with his lack of boundaries, workaholism, and how easily he merges with others.

with neptune in the 8th house, sex addiction or just general promiscuity as escapism is... really not out of the question here i'm not gonna lie. tbh i'd be shocked if his bedpost was not notched all to hell. HOWEVER, it's not at all the stereotypical fuckboy asshole vibe, it's kind of like:

aries sun/venus conjunction in the 11th house: okay fine, a soupçon of fuckboy energy, assertive, probably the kind of flirt who teases you a lot (have u ever met an aries venus who is not playfully mean as a form of flirtation bc i haven't), fun social energy, life of the party, unbearably charming... aaand very much will ghost you. but not in a mean way! however pisces moon/mc, prominent neptune, venus sextile jupiter, moon conjunct sn, lots of other chart aspects tbh: incredibly sweet and earnest, forms genuine connections with people, caring, nurturing as shit, earnestly looks into ur eyes all the time, probably a chronic face toucher however sagittarius 7th house, gemini rising, gemini juno: he's just naturally kind of a roamer romantically! he seeks variety, conversation, connection, experience, adventure, new things. he'd probably be into romance with people from lots of different places, who speak other languages--but again, it's really a one or two night thing. (tbh gemini risings, with that sag 7th house libra 5th house, often um.... .. well they don't settle down easily? tend to have a lot of fun in um social um situations? chart dependent, but it's not unusual (looking at you bang chan))

mingyu might be one night standing 365, but he honestly no bullshit feels a connection with every single person when they're together. he looks upon their time together fondly when he leaves at 3am! and he's not putting on an act here!

like sure he is not staying for breakfast, but he doesn't see that as not... valuing the person, i guess? it's very spiritual vibey, neptunian, ahhh how beautiful, we connected tonight, i'll remember you, our journeys connected for this one beautiful moment, farewell, etc. sagittarius-y too, which makes sense with his 7th house. like it's bullshit in a way but it's not bullshit to him, u know?

man i hope he is good at communication, because this is giving manic pixie dream boy in a huge way. lmaoooo, i can't lie it's kind of fun to me? gemini sun to gemini rising, this is fun!

ok let's add some qualifiers, aspects with less than 2° orb (so they're strong, is what i'm saying)

square libra chiron in the 5th at 29° (0.07°A) yeah so um, that's likely more of the same sort of theme (5th house includes casual romantic relationships), but more neuroses about it. -> on some level he's a little afraid to let people stay--like he's not at all afraid of connection, but he is afraid of sustained connection -> he is also afraid of NOT GETTING ENOUGH ATTENTION!!! (5th house) but he's very cute and earnest about it. he probably feels genuinely upset and remorseful if someone feels led on by him. -> also like, fifth house as childhood, who hurt you mingyu??? who discouraged your artistic expression when u were a kid??? were you discouraged from expressing urself for social conformity reasons?? did u feel shame about breaking the peace and ur need for attention?? man that saturn and SN in the 10th... mars in the 4th... pluto squaring your MC-IC... heal ur inner child mingyu 😭

quincunx gemini ascendant (1.57°A) : in one sense mingyu is acting in a genuine way and if people don't get that that's their problem, but at the same time the projections occur, and make him feel like he's not being perceived as his true self :/ is it because people think you're a dom top when you're actually a sub service top... jw -> the quincunx is a thinky thinky aspect--whenever i see it i know the person can analyze that shit (and too much probably, with another strong quincunx between mingyu's mercury and pluto) -> mingyu's Life Journey is about communicating (gemini) and asserting himself (aries), and his neptune issues (escapism, martyring himself, ghosting) come into conflict with that journey

conjunct pallas (0.42°S): ok. well. this is where my head really turned for mingyu, like damn bud he has the Vision. -> amazing natural leader, inspiring, strategic, problem-solver, finds creative solutions out of nowhere. -> sometimes an active neptune can lead to an easily bruised quality (i love her but blackpink jennie (neptune conjunct sun) was like this before her saturn return[in pisces!]). with that pisces moon i had assumed mingyu would get this too but!! he does not. he has a deep, unshakable like... belief? connection with the universe in a way?? he knows he can get through anything; he's incredibly resilient. -> sidebar pallas is at 0° aquarius-- he is smart smart smart, really quick thinker

trine gemini juno in his 12th house (1.5°S): goddamnit this chart keeps getting cuter but not too cute, i'm so mad. he's a natural caretaker and nurturer, especially with this being in a water houses trine. people look at him and are like, immediately ready to confess all their troubles. he's so nurturing!! if you have mommy issues, mingyu could appeal to you! (oh shit is that why this is working on me...? lmao uh oh) -> gemini juno in the 12th, he likes a partner who is clever, communicative, variable, possibly who plays hard to get sometimes, in the 12th he wants to feel like Fated to that person, however likely to have lots of undefined relationships and/or secret relationships and/or issues with partners meaning ill towards him or causing him harm directly or indirectly (not a guarantee, just a possibility)

bucket chart with a 4th house mars handle: go go go! (home? NO! the CLUB! then home :) )

mingyu has a bucket chart pattern--almost all of his planets are in one half of his chart--mostly the upper half (public facing, life is about external situations), but there are two in the lower half--pluto and mars. OHHHH boy, he's got some subconscious brewing down there, baby!! 6th house pluto and virgo mars can u say... anxiety???

notably, mars is our "bucket handle", since it's off by itself. it's gonna flavor the whoooooole pot, and since it's down by the IC in the most private and personal part of the chart, it's like mingyu holds this very close to his chest.

bucket chart patterns usually mean EXTREMES, pushing urself, conflict, all that kind of thing, and mars as the bucket handle??? lmao. life is about ACTION.

however. mars is in virgo in the 4th house and retrograde, this isn't a straightforward fiery direct mars in aries in the first or something. he is very go go go but also there's a lot of fear and restriction in there. also virgo is about SERVICE, so that is key (and: service top energy???)

any planet trying to make a move: so yeah that's my plan, i just need you to sign off, so if you can do that real quick... mars rx: hey :) you gotta learn how to assert yourself in your own individual way that is free from societal pressure :) u won't learn this for a long time so :) hope you enjoy things going wrong :) virgo mars: i have made 8 lists and cross-referenced all of them and then i will make a decision but wait what if i made a mistake, hm let's make another 2 lists, why are you getting impatient there is no point doing something if i do not do it correctly, mars in the 4th house: no yeah that's fine i can um. i can do all that. for sure. no problem. just gotta... cancel all my other plans so i can do everything myself since i'm the ONLY one who can,,,,, so, ,,

-> quincunx 11th house aries venus: (mars trying to throttle venus for impulsive choices because of social pressures YET AGAIN) -> quincunx 11th house aries sun: (following aries sun to parties whispering how have you been of service lately in his ear while he takes another shot) the perfectionism really jumps out in this whole area of the chart, plus the heavy 10th house -> conjunct lilith: oooh boy!! energy, charm, willpower, sexual magnetism, assertive, basically like injecting cautious virgo mars with a bit of scorpio and a bit of aries, ooohHHHH boy. his action and will is based on passion! however, potential to dominate situations and/or make rash emotional decisions (virgo mars hates this) -> conjunct virgo lilith in the 4th house: perfectionism runs rife, also some issues with the family (esp with his mars being in the 4th)--could be family secrets, or he feels beholden to his family all the time, or he didn't feel like he belonged in his family, or something else, but it leads to a certain masking quality for self-protection. -----> especially with this conjunction directly opposed to his 10th house moon--possibly an unhealthy relationship with his mother or another parent-like figure, enmeshment or just a ton of pressure on him (and possibly the reverse, pressure taken off him when it's not necessary). a lot to unravel here for him, lots of generational stuff at play, this is less fun and honestly more red flag-y? but it could also be just another thing to help him be even more empathetic, it really depends on how he deals with it!

mutable cross, mutable planets

rare is the aries sun who vibes like a mutable sign. despite clearly having an aries sun, mingyu has a shitton of mutable energy muddying the waters. very weird for cardinal fire aries!

so mingyu is fire dominant, with water coming a close second. then mutable energy goes crazy.

mingyu's angles are in a mutable square--gemini ascendant, sagittarius descendant, pisces MC, virgo IC.

mingyu's cardinal sun, saturn and venus might feel awkward with like his life direction and shape, in a sense. his mutable placements (his pisces moon, lunar nodes, virgo mars and even his sag pluto which is generational) gel with the way his life moves and may feel more "accessible" to him. it's an interesting combination!

pisces moon in the 10th house -- deeply empathetic, need for emotional contact, softness, but also expects a lot of himself (10th house), it's the highest planet on the chart so it's visible, easily accessible, very public. HUGE sense of responsibility to others.

virgo mars in the 4th house -- precision, energy, highly competent, good at "home" stuff, probably good at DIY and cooking and anything homemaking, also very high expectations of himself, loves to Provide

sag pluto in the 6th house -- pluto in the 6th house is all about Service, which literally was already point 1 and 2 on this list, so this is what is called a "repeated theme" lads! mingyu's soul journey has a huge slice about service to others. pluto in the 6th is all about getting humbled, lmao. he may go through crises or just humiliation in some way, whatever it takes for the soul to get a reality check. this placement can be prone to over-work, distracting themselves from anxiety, that sort of thing. a crisis that may happen often does through the body--illness or injury forcing someone to have to slow down and assess shit.

while we're here, let's look at his MC

in pisces: at work/in the wider world he moves in a sensitive, artistic way, very empathetic, he needs to be able to be creative and to connect with other people in order to feel satisfied professionally neptune decan: all that projection, tho conjunct the royal star fomalhaut: this was super interesting to me--any royal star in close conjunction with someone's chart will bring gifts and success and the opportunity to share a message w the world, but it will also make you go through Trials. mingyu's neptune is already putting him through Trials so like join the club i guess!! -> pros: wisdom, empathy, artistic talent -> cons: intense very visible emotions, aforementioned Trials

let's add some dialogue with the aspects, shall we?

pisces MC: i meet the world with sensitivity and empathy :) if i don't get to do that professionally i feel incomplete :( sextile taurus mercury in the 11th: my talent for communication aligns perfectly with my career :) also i have a nice down-to-earth and sensible vibe :) i love to chill with my friends and like-minded groups of people :) trine chiron: wow i am so wise :) feeling stifled creatively when i was young has made me value what i have now! i can heal others through my artistic expression! square pluto: knock knock pisces MC: no... no don't do it... square pluto: say who's there. never mind i don't care, it's time to force that transformation, baby!! pisces MC: but my escapism? square sag pluto in the 6th: not anymore :) damn look at that, now you have a slight terror around your need to be liked... a deep inability to follow orders you think are stupid... pisces MC: at least i have a cute duality between innocence and wisdom now? square pluto in the 6th: hey u know that deep soul level feeling of lack and internalized guilt that permeates everything? hm what if that could be fixed... with enough power/success/approval from other people pisces MC: but it's ... it's never going to be enough? square pluto: but it's never going to be enough :)

active 9th, 10th, 11th house: Externally Focused, Extrovert Style

(not that people with these placements are all extroverts, it's just the whole picture is screaming SOCIAL BUTTERFLY here)

-jupiter in the 9th: he's live laugh loving, he's listening and learning, he's on a Journey, jupiter's favorite house is the 9th and she can't wait to tell you about her backpacking trip (mingyu loves a backpacking trip) -> jupiter in aquarius: curiosity! interested in new ideas, also thinks he's right all the time -> jupiter sextile sun (exact orb): people like him! he has a talent for literally shining, but also projecting and expanding the vision of the self -> 9th jupiter sextile 11th sun: talent for communicating ideas to groups of people -> jupiter sextile venus: people really like him very much -> jupiter square vertex in gemini: you know that sylvia plath quote about the fig tree? that. so many possibilities! sometimes gets disappointed because he has really high expectations. wants everything all at once! cannot have :(

aries sun in the 11th: SOCIAL!!! also smart. wants to be influential with groups, is already influential with groups, feels he is not influential enough? natural leader tho. -> also super loyal! -> sun conjunct venus (exact): very pretty :) very charming :) very adorable :) gentle :) sweet :) NEEDS TO BE LOVED BY EVERYONE ALL THE TIME OR HE WILL WILT!!! HIS FEELINGS WERE HURT BECAUSE U DIDN'T GIVE HIM ENOUGH ATTENTION!! aries venus in the 11th: flirts by teasing someone, wants to be flirted with by teasing, also would prefer this to happen in public where everyone can observe and he can feel like a special boy (he is a special boy!!) -> insanely huge social circle, CONSTANTLY out, hates being alone, loves the club, loves to flirt with e-v-e-r-y-one. also falls in love with everyone, but for like 30-50 seconds each. -> venus quincunx mars: a little afraid of serious conflict for an aries sun!! asteroid sedna in the 11th: mmm. a little bit of a doormat at times for his friends. will give the shirt off his back, and then all the shirts from his closet, then be like wait :( i have no shirts :( why didn't someone give me their shirts???? why am i always the one giving shirts???? hopefully his aries energy can balance this out. mercury in the 11th: lives to communicate with others. wants to share his thoughts and ideas!! ability to analyze things! -> taurus mercury: when he has made his decision about something, good luck changing his mind lmao it ain't happening -> taurus mercury in the 11th: fixed energy on fixed house energy, unbelievably stubborn, lord with the aries sun as well... ... god bless. i mean i think this combo is fun, but... .... yeah don't try to change his mind ever, just manipulate him into it, it'll be easier for both of you. -> quincunx pluto in the 6th: some anxiety and fear here--does he like overshare when he gets drunk at a party and then regrets it and crashes out a little bit the next day?? very possible. -> sextile MC: lucky! his need to communicate is matched perfectly with his public persona -> taurus sextile pisces MC: he has (a) a talent for communicating in a way that has people emotionally connecting and (b) a certain level of realism and practicality protects him from having the tissue paper boundaries of many pisces MCs

moon in the 10th: have discussed a little, but having the most sensitive intimate moon (pisces) in the most public business boy house can feel weird sometimes, a little bit vulnerable, however he is well-loved -> conjunct SN: SENSITIVE saturn in the 10th: the 10th is saturn's favorite house, it's the house of Getting Real and Growing The Hell Up and Having Expectations That Are Maybe Unrealistic and then Beating Urself Up For Not ACHIEVING ENOUGH... i mean. however saturn is a rude bitch so even when your saturn is a place where he is comfortable, he will still fuck up your shit :/ don't get me wrong i love saturn, but i do not think that mingyu loves saturn? aries and saturn... well. -> aries saturn in the 10th: a whole mess of contradictions. starting and stopping, rushing and waiting, wanting to SHINE and being terrified of shining? -> saturn conjunct sun: was his dad... really strict? bright side, huge amounts of self-discipline, hard worker, reliable, very different flavor of an aries sun. still an aries sun, though, you cannot quash the aries sun. also SKY HIGH expectations of himself.

stay tuned for ur saturn return starting 24 may 2025, mingyu, it's gonna rock your shit up 😬. ahh lord, look at this!! i'm not even a predictive astrology girlie and i went "uh oh..."

like, his saturn return as our foundational issue, then saturn activating his moon, SN, saturn, sun, venus? pluto activating the 8th the whole time? squaring his mercury? uranus activating the 12th?? nodal reversal?? damn that is... a lot of upheaval and transformation and change, bud. neptune haunting the 10th like "hey... what if all ur future plans... were all wrong? no i do not have an alternative plan for u i'm just here to tell u ur lost :)"

great if he deals with things productively, however It Hurts To Become and all that!!

godspeed, mingyu, at least you bagged another admirer on this day (my dumb ass)

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ HERE FOR YOU — “The only reason I sat here is because I assumed you weren’t coming today.” Aventurine x GN reader.

Word count: 2.0k

Contains: GN reader x Aventurine (reader is intended to be male but there are no descriptions/pronouns. View them however you want), set in high school, reader is bullied, new friendships, fluff, protective Aventurine + more!

High school was a nightmare. Everyone was so entitled, living as if they were the only people experiencing life. Anyone they see is simply a side character to them, completely oblivious to the fact that much like themselves, they also see the world through their own two eyes. 

Making your way to the rooftop, you held your lunch firmly while pushing open the door with your foot. Surveying the area, you were just about to head to your regular bench when a brutal force knocked you down from behind. Your lunch box burst open and your food spilt across the floor, followed by a mingle of laughter as a group of people walked past, cursing at you as they went by.

Pushing yourself up from the ground, you sit back against the wall and release a shaky exhale. Despite being used to their cruel behaviour, it doesn’t make it hurt any less—both physically and emotionally. Your already bruised knees ripple with fresh pain; it’s unbearable. When you went to reach for your lunch, the sound of the door squeaking scared you off. You retreated to the wall, keeping your head hung low as the new batch of people walked by.

No one tried to help. They didn’t even look at you. Your eyes swell with tears, abandoning your lunch since the insects have begun swarming around it. You rose to your seat and limped around the corner, only to be met with someone occupying your usual space. From the angle you’re at, you could only make out his blonde hair—nothing stood out about his features or gave you any distinct way of identifying him. 

Since half of the bench isn’t in use, you walk past him and slump down, now staring into the distance at the landscape which surrounds the school grounds. The blonde boy glanced over at you, pulling his bag closer to his side. It was then that he noticed the trail of blood trickling down your leg.

“Hey. You’re bleeding.” He states the obvious, pointing his index finger at your beaten-up legs. 

“I know.”

“Would you like a tissue?” His brow raises from your nonchalant response, hand already digging into his pocket. 

“No.” You didn’t even look at him while replying, eyes focused elsewhere. 

The boy slides a pack of tissues to you, but his gesture is left with zero reaction. You didn’t move. Leaving the tissues where they were, he turned his head and noticed your cracked-open lunchbox on the floor, slowly piecing together the puzzle of what could have happened to leave you this way. 

“You usually sit up here, don’t you?” He inquires. He’s sure he’s seen sitting here alone on a multitude of different occasions. 

“If you’re one of them, just leave me alone.” You sniffle, red eyes burning as more tears spill out.

“What?” He places his bag on the floor and scoots towards you. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you, but I’m only here because I’m waiting for my friends.”

His tone sounded sincere, and your guard was already down—you figured you had nothing else to lose. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes as he passed you a tissue, nodding his head as a gesture for you to take it. Reluctantly, you stretched your jittery hand out and took it, accidentally brushing against him while you swept up the blood pouring from your injury. 

“You can keep the packet.” He pinches it between his fingers and drops it onto your lap, a small smile on his lips. 

“What’s your name?” Your features soften when you accept the fact he carries no hostility. 

“Kakavasha. Most people call me by my nickname though. Aventurine.”

“Kakavasha, that’s nice.” You tell him your name in turn, thanking him for treating you kindly.

“The pleasure is all mine. Say, you don’t mind me asking what happened, do you?”

“Oh. It’s nothing. Just these kids who pick on me.”

“How come? Did you do something to them?” Aventurine leans in, almost as if he were inspecting you. You felt your face heat up, not certain how to respond to all of this at once. 

“I didn’t do anything to anyone. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Very well. Do you have anything else to eat? You can’t not have lunch. And you’re definitely not going to pick that back up. Not on my watch.” He points over to your food, then hands you the pack of chips he left out. “These were for my friend, but I think you need them more.”

“I can’t take it from you.” You wave your hands, but that only prompts him to launch the packet over your way.

“Take them from her then.” He chuckles, returning his attention to the sandwiches he had nearly finished before you arrived. “Do you know Jelena? —Never mind. If you don’t know who I am, there’s no point asking.”

“Jelena?”

“Does the name Topaz ring any bells?”

“Topaz…? The girl responsible for managing the student council’s finances?”

“So you know her but you don’t know me. Why’s that? Here I thought I had a great reputation.” Aventurine sighs dramatically, sneaking a glance at you from the corner of his gleaming eyes. 

“I think it’s better to not be known. Too much attention from the wrong people can make you miserable.”

“Not known?! You really—” Aventurine takes a deep breath, preventing himself from saying something he doesn’t mean. “You really know how to comfort someone’s terribly hurt ego, don’t you?”

You begin to chuckle, your lips curving upwards for the first time today. In all honesty, his name doesn’t remind you of anyone you know, but his friend is highly doted on by staff members and even some students.

“I’m sorry!” You continue to laugh, leading to him eventually joining in.

“Veritas is a friend of mine too. Well, sometimes he is. I’ll introduce you to them both when they get here. I don’t know what’s taking them so long.”

“It’s okay, I can go. I don’t want to make it awkward.” You snuggle your bag to your torso, only to have it yanked from your grip. Aventurine places your backpack beside him, out of reach from your current position. 

“You’re not going anywhere. Don’t even think about it.” Aventurine scolds you. After learning what you’ve been going through, he would have to be completely heartless to let you wander off alone again. “Do you have a phone?” 

“It’s really old but I do have one.”

“Can I have it?” He looks at you while you flutter your eyelashes, sensing your raised guards. “So I can give you my phone number. I’m not robbing you.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry.” You unlock your phone and pass it to him. Due to the embarrassment created by its overly outdated model, you turn your head aside, not wanting to witness his reaction.

“Don’t apologise.” Aventurine pinches his brows together while he figures out how to navigate it, eventually figuring it out and keying his number into your contacts. “I’m sending myself a text.”

His fingers swiftly press down on the keys, then a notification sound pings out a few seconds after he hits send. Taking your phone back, you read the message he sent himself and grin.

“You’re not irrelevant, Aventurine <3” — Sent from your cell phone.

“I doubt you’re irrelevant. I’m the irrelevant one. I didn’t mean for it to come across like that.”

“I’m just teasing. If you didn’t know me, it doesn’t affect me. What matters is that you know me now.” He lets out a sigh of relief, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his thigh.

“How did you know that I usually sit here?” You tilt your head slightly, now nibbling on the chips he had so kindly forced upon you. 

“When we’re leaving to head to class we always see you packing your stuff up. We sit on that bench over there but we’re not allowed to until the maintenance is done. The only reason I sat here is because I assumed you weren’t coming today.”

“I thought you would fight me for my spot.”

“Would you like to fight for it?” He raises his fists playfully, then drops them back to his lap. “I’m joking. There’s no need to fight when you can join us.”

“You’re so nice.”

“I’m not the kindest person ever, but I do understand what it feels like to go through something shitty when you have no one else to turn to. If anyone gives you trouble, you can tell me.”

“And you’ll go fistfight them?”

“Well, maybe not that far. Just a few hurtful words here and there.” He stares down at his hands. “Purely because we have more chance of losing if we go in for a physical approach—”

“That line is getting ridiculous!” A girl exclaims, clearly frustrated as her footsteps rapidly approach your not-so-secret corner spot. 

“Relax. I don’t need to hear you screaming after enduring fifty other Neanderthals doing the same thing.” The boy next to her raises his voice, then both faces come into view. 

“Aventurine!” She speaks in a cheery tone, then slows her steps as her gaze locks on you. “Who’s this?”

“My new friend. Be nice, especially you.” Aventurine points at the boy with purple hair and he grunts. After introducing yourself, they both sit down and join you in eating lunch. Topaz had given you one of the cupcakes she got from the cafeteria after she found out what happened, and you were sure to thank her thoroughly.

“I thought Aventurine was immature, yet there are still people who pick on others for no given reason. It’s disappointing.” Veritas speaks, giving his opinion on the situation.

“Excuse me?” Aventurine scoffs, about to defend himself until Topaz butts in.

“Well said, Veritas! It’s shameful to treat someone so poorly at this age.”

“It’s fine, really. I’m used to it by now, it doesn’t hurt as much.” You interject, not wanting to gather pity.

“But it still hurts. Right?” Aventurine pokes your shoulder, knowing the truth despite you brushing it off. After all, he witnessed the tears of the incident firsthand.

“A little. I’ll be okay though.”

“Yes, you will. I won’t let it happen anymore.” He rubs your arm and then turns to the others. There are five minutes before lunch ends, and he has his priorities set. “I’m going to walk this one over here to class. I’ll see you both later.”

“Ah, you don’t need to! I can walk—”

“Let’s go!” Aventurine jumps up, carrying your bag and his, dragging you along by the forearm. 

The hallways were empty—everyone else savouring the last few minutes of their break. His pace was fast, your sore legs struggling to keep up. When he notices you faltering, he slows down. You had told him what lesson you had, and like promised, he dropped you off. 

“I’ll stay until the bell goes.” He stands in front of you, beaming at you with his arms crossed. 

“I can’t believe you.” You giggle, closing your eyes from the overwhelming sense of relief. With him here, you feel secure. 

“I can believe me.”

“I can call you Kakavasha, can’t I?”

“You can call me whatever you’d like.” He grins, running a hand through his hair. “Unless it’s something hurtful. I already have one Veritas, and that’s more than enough.”

As the two of you were sharing banter, the bell blasted from the speakers, signalling that it was time for Aventurine’s departure. Part of you didn’t want him to leave, but it was inevitable. He’s not taking your classes. Judging by the expression on his face, you can tell he’s somewhat disappointed by how fast time slipped by.

“Meet me by the lockers at the end of the day. We can walk together. And I’ll text you when I’m home, so reply.” He walks backwards, his eyes remaining fixed on you. He’s weaving through masses of people, refusing to break eye contact with you.

“I will. See you soon.” You wave, then step into class shortly after. 

Pulling out your pencil case, you sit in the back with a giant smile plastered to your face. Your pencil traces many different shapes, writing down Aventurine’s name with a small heart beside it. His friendship meant the world to you. After being alone for so long, you had forgotten how pleasant it was to enjoy being around other people. People who understand—people who try. 

[thimbleandakiss]

Christmas Colors

Malfoy!Reader x Fred Weasley

Summary: Coerced into attending the Yule Ball, you expect to have a miserable time watching your secret boyfriend dancing and having fun. Little do you know; he already has some tricks up his dress robes' sleeves.

Content: Dancing, fluff, sibling angst, secret dating, mild cursing, and suggestive ending

Cross-posted on Ao3

If you like this, I have a longfic going on Ao3 exploring this exact premise! <33

Enjoy this playlist while you read if you feel so inclined

I don't know what I'm doing here. 

How did I let Pansy talk me into this? She'd promised she'd stay with me, that we'd have fun as friends. However, just as predicted, she'd disappeared roughly five minutes into the dance and was now somewhere in this writhing mass of teenagers, probably rubbing up against Draco. 

The mental image alone was almost enough to make me gag. 

Against my better judgement, I scan the undulating sea of people, looking for a particular ginger wizard. My brow furrows. It really shouldn't be so hard to find him, the man's a giant. From my vantage point in the corner of what once was the Great Hall, I can spot his twin brother, George, dancing with his girlfriend Angelina close to the live music stage, and near the refreshments table, Ron's sulking with Harry. I scoff at the sight. He really knows how to be miserable in any situation, doesn't he? 

I can see Ginny chatting with Neville and some other Gryffindors I can't bother to remember the names of around one of the circular tables, but of all the heads of fiery red hair I found, none belong to the only one I simultaneously hope and dread to see. 

"Sulking again, Malfoy?" His deep voice sounds so close behind me, I yelp and damn near jump out of my dress. 

Whipping around, I do my best to put on the signature holier-than-thou Malfoy attitude, even as relief weakens my knees. Fred's barely containing a smirk, mischief sparkling in his eyes. My own lips twitch at the sight. 

"Better than fraternizing with mudbloods and blood traitors," I reply coolly, and I know it's not just my tight bodice pressing against my lungs with the words. 

I can see on his face he knows I don't mean what I say. His gaze rakes over me, and I suppress the urge to shiver. I should leave. We can't be seen together for too long without incurring suspicion. 

"Emerald," He observes, taking in the deep green of the gown I wear, courtesy of my mother. The elegant satin hugs the curves of my torso, the skirt dropping off at my waist, cut by a slit that rides rather high up my right thigh. The off-the-shoulder sleeves hang just over my biceps. "Isn't that a tad... cliche?" 

"It's traditional," I correct, giving him a once-over myself. "I'm shocked you're not clad head-to-toe in crimson." 

Fred breaks out into a wide grin, his head bending forward as he lets out a chuckle, and my heart stutters. Strands of his coppery hair hang in front of his eyes, my hands twitching at my sides to brush it off his forehead. 

He reaches forward and takes ahold of my hand. The callouses of his fingers grazing against my skin sends sparks skittering through my blood. "I'm glad you came, love," He murmurs, eyes sparkling. 

I blanche and attempt to tug my hand out of his grasp. "Fred, we can't-" 

"Relax," he drawls, not allowing me to step away. "I have an idea. Come on."

I don't have much choice as he pulls me from the ballroom, expertly weaving me behind the several Christmas trees that decorate the space, allowing us to remain out of sight the entire way. We duck through a small side door, and suddenly we're alone. 

The music still permeates the corridor, but the roar of a multitude of simultaneous conversations dulls to just a hum. Fred drops my hand and walks a few paces away before spinning to face me, giving me a lopsided grin that forces a smile onto my own face. 

"You really thought I'd let my gorgeous girlfriend arrive in a simply stunning dress, her hair done immaculately, and sit in a corner scowling at everyone all bloody evening?" 

I scoff and roll at his exaggerated manner of speaking, but I'll be damned if I don't feel a flush bloom across my face. He never ceases to amaze me, the cheeky bastard. I'm a little surprised he'd even noticed my hair. The darker top half was done up in a braided half-crown, leaving the lighter remainder loose over my shoulders. 

"So... you dragged me out here to flatter me?" I question, lifting an eyebrow. 

"You wound me, love," he replies with an exaggerated pout that lasts about two seconds before he's grinning again. 

He gives a slight bow and reaches out his right hand. "May I have this dance?"

It's then that I notice the music has changed. The party music has eased into something slower paced. Something romantic. Fred has absolutely no right to have timing this good. 

I can't help the way my entire being seems to soften. I reach out and take his hand. "I would love to." 

He sweeps me up into a perfect waltz position and the entire world fades away. He's a bloody good dancer, giving me enough time to find the rhythm of the dance before gently pushing me away from him, lifting his hand, and spinning me. He pulls me back against his chest and drops my hand in favor of wrapping his arms around my waist, to which I respond by slinging my arms around his neck. 

"You're sure I can't obliviate your father into forgetting how to be a bigoted piece of shit?" Fred asks, his face leaned so close to mine that his warm breath fanned across my face. 

I snort softly, smiling and shaking my head. "I unfortunately don't think that'll work," I inform him, but I can't stop myself from imagining. 

How nice would it be if we didn't have to hide? If I didn't have to risk my inheritance, home, reputation, possibly even my life by seeing him? My smile slowly starts to fade. 

"Hey..." Fred says gently, nudging my forehead with his, "none of that. Forget your worries for a night, and let's dance, love, yeah?"

A slow smirk spreads across my face as I refocus on him. "I'll do you one better," I hum, and, using my grip around the back of his neck, pull him down for a kiss. 

He makes a slight oomph sound but it's only seconds before one of his hands is woven into the strands of my hair. He gently guides me until my back is against a wall, head tilted, bodies pressed as close as possible. It briefly crosses my mind that my dark lipstick will probably smear onto his lips. In the next instant I decide I don't care. 

His free hand brushes up my waist, thumb momentarily caressing my ribcage before trailing back down and settling against my hip. He tastes like cinnamon, smoke, and sweets. Just as I really start to lose myself in him, the sound of the heavy oak door opening and shutting, and short giggle, echo through the hall. 

Fred pulls away from me in an instant, skin flushed, running his thumb over his lips, and I whirl to see who dares to intrude upon our moment. My indignation swiftly fizzles out into dread as I recognize Pansy... and my little brother. 

Draco glances at Fred, then slowly turns to me and we lock eyes. It's not hard to put two and two together. Pansy seems to have somehow managed to already get herself intoxicated, both clinging to, and falling onto, Draco's arm. 

I hold his gaze, my hands flexing by my sides, swallowing. I have nothing to say in my defense. Neither does Fred, though I don't fail to notice how he's subtly stepped in front of me. 

My brother's always been a little shit, throwing our wealth, blood status, and name around any chance he got to get whatever he wanted. He cried to Father at every little inconvenience. But I saw through him. I saw through his ruse of the snobby little brat, because I understood, had witnessed the pressure he was under. As the only son, he bore the sole responsibility of carrying on the Malfoy family name, and therefore ensuring the bloodline remained pure. His attitude was a mask he wore to keep from crumbling under weight of our reality. 

We look at each other for a heartbeat longer, and he gives the tiniest of nods. "Not here, darling," he says, turning the drunk girl in his arms around. "I've got a better spot." 

My feet remain rooted to the stone, long after their voices fade into the distance. 

Fred's hand gently brushes against the small of my back. "Love?"

I jolt, physically shaking myself out of it, and glance up at him. "Mm?" I hum in reply.

"If something ever... goes wrong, at home, you know you're welcome at the Burrow, right?"

I give him a tight smile. "Draco won't tell," I murmur, looking off to the side. 

Fred shook his head. "I don't trust that git for a damn second. But that's not the point. I want you to know you have somewhere to go. Somewhere safe. Just remember that, yeah?"

I don't reply, brows furrowed as I stare at the stone floors, as if they might yield a solution. He gently takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look at him.

"Yeah?" He repeats, a little firmer this time.

"...Yeah," I confirm, giving him a watery smile. 

He nods, satisfied, dropping my chin in favor of my hand. "Good. Now, come. Gryffindor tower is bound to be empty right now, and that dress looks awfully uncomfortable..." He scrunches his nose teasingly. 

I snort. Leave it to Fred to find a way to lighten the mood. 

I squeeze his hand and scrunch up my nose to mirror his.

"Lead the way, Weasley."