#it's good practice methinks

[crystallizsch]

“It’s Always A Dance With You”

yuusha tala💜 x jamil viper🐍 (oc x canon) word count: 500+ words cw: not angst surprisingly notes: takes place during book 5; i got overzealous and wrote a dance scene (insert question mark)

their first dance in the kitchen was not really any less weirder than being outside ramshackle—

standing on the itchy grass;

next to the gravestones;

with the bugs that crawl at night.

a little more privacy would’ve been nice but they can’t be too picky this late at night.

━━━━━━✦

the prefect looked at the scarabia vice housewarden’s outstretched hand.

🐍: Are you ready?

💜: Sure. But without music?

🐍: Just follow my lead.

💜: But how am I supposed to—

🐍: Will you stop complaining, Prefect? I’d rather not be out here for longer than we need to.

yuusha made a dramatic sigh as she begrudgingly put her gloved hand on top of his.

💜: You’re the boss.

━━━━━━✦

it started with a light step forward, and two light steps back.

and the judgments began.

🐍: No, Prefect. Your other left.

🐍: Why is your back so stiff? Relax. It’s like I’m dancing with a log.

the vice housewarden felt his patience wearing thin.

the prefect knew how to dance. he saw.

well—

she danced with him herself.

the impromptu dance in the kitchen.

sure she wasn’t great, but she knew how to keep in rhythm.

so why now does it feel like the prefect is making it deliberately hard for him?

━━━━━━✦

jamil spoke too soon.

yuusha was a fast learner, of course. he knew this.

or she decided to be compliant out of spite.

either or they were dancing in sync to the tuneless sound of the night, save for the occasional chirp of crickets and the jingle of the bells from jamil’s hair ornaments as they twirled around each other.

there’s always a sudden shift with her that he can’t control.

unfortunately for her, two can play at that game.

the vice housewarden concluded the dance with a sharp dip.

━━━━━━✦

so it was another one of those moments.

did the air become particularly warmer that night or was it just that their bodies were pressed closed together in the dip, their faces were almost touching?

from this angle, the prefect gazed into jamil’s eyes. it sparkled like the night sky illuminating behind him.

that’s a soft, starstruck look yuusha hasn’t seen before.

oh this is dangerous.

at this moment, she forgot the implications of eye contact with the scarabia vice housewarden.

she felt herself letting her guard down, much to her dismay.

unbeknownst to her, jamil fell to that vulnerability first. a vulnerability he didn’t think he’d have again.

yuusha matched his soft gaze which jamil immediately honed in on.

💜: Your eyes are beautiful, Jamil. Have I ever told you that?

━━━━━━✦

the prefect yelped as she landed butt-first onto the ground.

jamil had let her body slip out off his hands, dropping the prefect on purpose.

yuusha attempted to kick his shins in retaliation but to no avail. jamil dodged it effortlessly considering she’s still on the ground.

🐍: We’re done here.

he averted his gaze, trying to hide that he felt warmth rushing through his cheeks.

the hood of his dorm uniform can’t save him right now as he’s not wearing it.

💜: You didn’t have to DROP me! Sorry for complimenting you, I guess.

jamil didn’t acknowledge her complaint and just reached out his hand to her again.

he looks like he’s trying so hard to hide a laugh with that shit-eating smirk of his.

she looked up at him with disbelief but proceeded to accept it anyway.

💜: …..Thanks for the dance, Vice Housewarden.

🐍: You’re welcome, Prefect. Dont ask me ever again.

[bugsinshoes]

i freaking love star wars

[edsheerankinnie]

had this idea to draw the mane 6 in the style of my non-mlp characters from my non-mlp universe. plus spike BC HE NEVER GETS ANYTHING EVER IM SORRY SPIKE FOR HOW EVERYONE TREATS U

oh yeah heres some warmup/reference horsies i drew. still solidifying the look

[lionbearfox]

nilou doodles :3

[magpie-trinkets]

Okay, so, Masked Apprentice (The Great Ace Attorney) and Masked Gentleman (Miracle Mask).

Do you. Do you pick what I'm putting down.

DO NOT CONTINUE READING if you HAVEN'T played/watched THE TWO TGAA GAMES AND MIRACLE MASK okay thanks i love you

FORMER BEST FRIENDS WHO WERE PRESUMED DEAD, GOT AMNESIA, WERE MANIPULATED INTO A ROLE, ANTAGONISTS, HOMOSEXUALS, SEEKING REVENGE FOR SOMETHING THAT WASN'T WHAT IT SEEMED, MASKS, STUBBORN ASSHOLES WITH LOFTY DREAMS WHO ARE HURTING, VICTIMS OF DECEPTION, HOMOSEXUALS

There are so many similarities in their characters between the two of them. I do like [TGAA] more than [MM] though (I don't like him to begin with), but they are pretty similar. Intense, ambitious motherfuckers. Both tricked by a higher power into blaming someone innocent, someone who was, too, hurt by the same tragedy. Still grieving. Both faced with the protagonist and their unwavering faith in them, which is what eventually pulls them out of the shadows the manipulator concocted. The best friend got into their career to honour them, to continue what they started! While grieving them!

There are some key differences in them, though, I'm not saying they're the same character – nothing further from the truth. But they seem to fit a very specific archetype. The whole "we were best friends, you are my enemy now + you forgot me + i thought you were dead + i continued your path" thing. Quite the mouthful.

Unrelated picture

[raskies456]

GRE today…..

[coffinwoodx]

ok i’ll watch good omens

[seoafin]

@ that last ask...I regularly read through the tags of that love hotel post of yours because the way you characterize stsg and a poly relationship with them is so crazy in character. everything from gojo getting to be more selfish in a universe where geto didn't leave to how they manage each other and also how sometimes can't help it. ripmc brings out their worst impulses, etc. you deserve a kudos x100 looking forward to the next chapter of ddao!

dksfjklsdjfkldsfjklslk wahhhhhhh i forget ppl actually read my tags sometimes 😭😭😭😭😭 thank u for reading!!! <333333

[cavitychemicals]

I should call her (my therapist)

[meganegatari]

heh.. okay, so you asked for different.. rubs hands together villaniously as i materialize from the bottomless shadows..

sub!vampire!ellie biting/bloodsucking denial.. reminding her how much of a good girl she needs to be even when your wrist is practically just brushing past her lips to cradle her face.. or when the weakest bead of blood is pricked from your finger.. flaunting it.. teasing.. goddess bless throw in whatever else you see fit freakmaster

TEMPTATION WAITS

before you read! ▪︎ my masterlist ☆: co-president...this is absolutely divine...shoulda seen the way i dropped everything for this im literally #TWEAKING. new fav thing i've ever written methinks. title song. (vibes aren't there but the title was too good.) ps: if you spot any typos i wrote this with one hand. KIDDING...or am i? divider creds—cafekitsune. ◇: not outright smut, but still suggestive!! and nsfw is described. fluffy end bc i think she earned it, lore sprinkled in because why nawt it's interesting, finger sucking (e! receiving), this is maybe a lil ooc idrc, she's described as looking quite ill in her vampiric form + begs like her century long life depends on it fr, (but also has a bit of an attitude, it issss ellie after all), mean!r, talk of blood/previous bite wounds. ++ 3.3k wc. doesn't need to be that long but atp? take it or leave it LOLL. filing under "oneshots" bc it's way more than usual reqs hehe.

“Please, baby. Just one taste. I'll do anything.” Desperate, shaky pleas spilled from Ellie, her voice noticeably tired from the effort. She's been at this for what felt like forever now, and you were getting tired of ignoring her. Or rather, a little bored.

She was kneeling on the wooden floor by your bed, fisting the creased sheets, trying to capture your attention. The shimmering moonlight was dancing on her features as if it was a sparkle of fireflies, making her oddly colored eyes appear to glow, and highlighting her sickly appearance.

In her vampiric form, her skin was tinted a ghostly—even chalky—white, barely a smidgen of blush dancing on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes shifted from their original grassy green to a peculiar duochrome blend of emerald and ruby. She really looked unwell, but you knew it was merely a product of circumstance, her gloomy fate.

Ellie donned somber dark circles around her eyes, her lips withered, pale, and thin as a piece of tissue paper. Just behind them though, rested two deadly weapons of her very own—sizeable, razor-sharp, gleaming ivory canines reflecting the scarce lighting as if they were made of mirrored glass.

For the first time tonight, you met her gaze, assuming an unbreakable poker face. Her keen sight could pick out the most subtle of twitches, so you learned to defeat that. The moment you met her line of sight she perked up, her eyes widening in glee, you had finally acknowledged her existence after so long.

Scooting forward you placed yourself right in front of her still kneeling form, sitting so she was in between your legs, but she wasn't allowed to touch you until you said so. What torture.

She began again, “Can I do something to make you change your mind? I'll do anything. Anything in the world. I'll make you feel re-really good, and then I won't ask again…ever even, if that's what you want. Just please let me…I'm so thirsty.” She was rambling a million miles a minute, slurring her words and cutting herself off with hiccups, stuttering like was having a nervous breakdown.

Her chest heaving up and down was visible to you despite the dim surroundings, and you could just make out her facial expression—a pained grimace, as if she was experiencing all of humanity's greatest suffering. When you didn't reply but stayed observing her blankly, she sighed and hung her head in shame, you almost felt bad. Almost.

You extend a hand, twirling a strand of her hair—previously silky and vibrant, now as lifeless and dull as charred hay—and you feel her relax under your touch. You continue raking your fingers through her locks, scratching her scalp with your nails, and you hear her exhale forcefully. She's likely overwhelmed by your scent—it's invigorating, fresh, and full of life.

“Have you been good?” You pipe up with a voice colder than ice, softly caressing the flesh of her tense cheek, and letting your fingertips travel to the underside of her chin. You gently tilt her head up, noticing the way her eyelids flutter to a close. She's soaking up the heat radiating off of you, making sure to feel the sensations of your skin brush against hers as much as she can, commit them to memory for when she's apart from you.

Her lips part, allowing for hushed, woeful whimpers to pour out, and she instinctively bites her bottom lip to quiet herself. Only she forgets about the powerful daggers in her mouth, and almost pierces right through her own skin.

Taking notice, you tut at her, warning clicks of your tongue bouncing off the room’s walls, contrasting the dead of night’s eerie silence. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You push the pad of your thumb down on the plush of her lip, angling her jaw side to side, examining those killer gnashers she's got.

“You could hurt yourself with these y'know, be careful.” Her eyelids flicker open, she's staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes she could muster, somehow all while maintaining such a strong glare you feel as if she's trying to challenge you.

“I'll decide if you can have some, as long as you're good, and you let me have some fun first. Alright?” You explain in a neutral tone, earning a cute “mhm” of confirmation from the undead being before you. “Good girl.”

You slowly slip your thumb into her mouth, avoiding her fangs at all costs, and you let her wrap her slippery tongue around your digit, watching how her cheeks hollow and her eyes roll ever so slightly while she sucks, moaning as she takes in your taste—nothing more than just skin.

You chuckle at her desperation, revel in the power dynamic you have created. “Mmm, you taste so good, so sweet.” She mumbles, swirling her tongue around your thumb, coating the entirety of it in her spit. You allow it for now, but soon enough, to no surprise, she slyly tries to shift to the side in preparation to slice you and get her treat.

You sharply retract your hands from her, removing your finger from her mouth with a pop, disappointed by her greed, her audacity. She turns to the side and pouts, huffing and rolling her eyes with more attitude than a moody teen. “What did I say?” You calmly hiss at her. She whispers, almost inaudibly, “Sorry…taste so good, can't help m’self.” Her voice wavered, and the moonlight illuminated the faintest tinge of red across her features, it was nearly invisible.

But you could tell exactly what was up. She shifts uncomfortably in her spot, grunting with laughable, pitiful attempts to rub her thighs together, fingers toying with the cloth of her pants, putting her frustration on full display. You looked at her struggle, unable to contain your grin.

It was a different kind of high, seeing such a feared and fabled beast kneel before you in such a pathetic manner, but it turned you on like nothing else. It was also evident she enjoyed it as well, no matter how much she didn't want you to be aware of the fact. The extent to which she worships you and handles your body, the way she was willing to beg and let you order her around showed just how much you meant to her—it was beautiful in its own way, how devoted she was to you. You were her person.

The fact she couldn't stifle her desire anymore after all this time suggested a shift in the atmosphere of your wicked games, the tension in the air was getting impossibly thicker, and you were loving every second of it.

Ellie, you've got a short memory.” You tease, then gesture to the gauze wrapped around your forearm, protecting two puncture wounds left by none other than her just the previous night. She looks at it and cocks an eyebrow, grouching, “Yeah, I see that, what about it?” The husky edge to her voice had returned, the defiant attitude you loved to crack was back in full force.

“Hundreds of years old, you even have memories of wars, and you can't remember what happened, like, 24 hours ago? Wow…” Your voice is so patronizing, it's unpleasant and abrasive on the ears, even your own. She shrugs her shoulders, still kneeling on the cold, hard ground at your mercy. “Well let's have a refresher then, shall we?” Tearing the tan-colored bandage apart with a single rip, you reveal the puncture marks—they were still wet and irritated, the wounds reopening immediately at the slightest movement.

Ellie whines like an animal, a crude “ahh”, and she starts pleading harder than ever. “Please, baby, my pretty, my angel, please, please, pleasepleaseplease, just lemme have a drop, just one. That's all, I swear.” Her gaze darkens exponentially, if you didn't know her it would instill fear in your heart, but luckily you were well aware of all her tricks. She snarls, “Fuck you. I'm literally on my fucking knees right now. Why are you doing this?” Her voice breaks angrily, wobbling with great lust and need—the need to have you, the need to drink you and fondle you and taste you in all senses of the word, and at this point she didn't seem to care about preserving a morsel of her dignity, she was simply so drunk on you, you couldn't believe.

You reiterate the previously established explanation, “We have an agreement that says you're allowed to take my blood once a month, so you can have some more each time. Rather than taking a little bit but more often, you requested this yourself. And you already drank lots yesterday. Does that not ring a bell?”

She groans, a gravelly, guttural sound that had you coming back to your senses and realizing, this was technically, a monster who you loved so dearly.

It led you to wonder—to her kind, what was so special about the liquid coursing through your veins?

When you split your lip open as a kid, clumsily tumbling face-first onto the asphalt, or bit your tongue while eating something stubborn, the strange, metallic taste was purely disgusting. It had a certain heaviness to it, both physically with the way it sat in your mouth, but also mentally. Like a subconscious awareness you were not meant to consume it like she does, but to spit it out the millisecond it made contact with your taste buds. There were times where the thought made you queasy, the measly knowledge of just how much of this fluid was inside you, keeping you alive.

But to her, it was a completely different story. She lapped it up with such fervor, such thirst you've never seen before. A sloppy frenzy like there wasn't a single thing more delightfully flavorful.

Her teeth penetrating all the way through your epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis, and straight through the vein wall was a feeling you're likely never going to get used to. It stung, it really did, and you were quick to get all woozy from the blood volume loss, but Ellie knew your limits—even though hers were not even close. Her thirst was insatiable.

The intimacy of the act was a whole separate topic to think about too. It was such an erotic experience, and when probed about it she argues it's better than sex, somehow. When she drinks from you, Ellie is really messy with it, you noticed. Blood dribbles down her chin and stains her lips as if it's a designer lip oil, the distinct deep maroon color sometimes appearing clownish and too intense against her fair complexion.

She was really handsy as well, and you weren't sure if it was purposeful, but you didn't care to ask because you didn't really mind in the first place. It felt nice. Her muscular hands tend to trace your waist as she's suckling, hovering by your ass, and traveling north to knead the supple tissue of your breasts.

And how could you forget about the sheer proximity of it all, even when having sex normally, it didn't feel nearly as intimate or vulnerable as this. Her body would be tightly curled around yours, she couldn't bear to have one meager square inch of her not touching you.

When she drank from your neck, it was bordering on heavenly, you had to be honest with yourself. There was something about the combination of the light headed, dizzying feeling it brought you, her closeness, the licking sensations, and the hungry sounds she produced that all together mixed to form nothing short of a mind blowing, intoxicating concoction.

When you both were feeling it, she'd be able to draw breathy moans to fall from your lips, and would giggle into your skin before sucking harder, leaving bruised marks surrounding the punctures. You read in some folklore that vampires carried a sort of aphrodisiac in their fangs, or was it their saliva? Again, you didn't really know all the details, but the sessions made you both yearn for each other in a way that felt taboo to discuss—midnight feedings often turning into animalistic fucking, sometimes even simultaneously.

Like having Ellie latched onto the side of your neck while she grinds her dripping pussy onto yours, her pleasureful mewls filling your ears, or having her hold your wrist to her mouth while her other hand is pleasuring you into oblivion, prodding against your spongy walls, making your head spin.

The time you spent lost in thought, she had broken the rule of not touching you unless you said so, but all she had done was rest her head on your knee, zoning out, sulking like an injured puppy. Unfortunately for her, you weren't done torturing her just yet. You didn't move her off of you, she was just laying there, grumbling curses under her breath, saying how mean you were, how much she despised you and everything you stood for, although both of you knew the truth—she had said herself, “I've never tasted blood like yours,” and you felt intrinsically bound to her on a subconscious level, these were mere amusements you indulged in, that ended up beneficial for both.

She got her delicious elixir of life, at the cost of you having your way with her for a bit. You hear her sniffle, the little defenseless sound of defeat was able to break your act.

You resume stroking her hair, and she wraps trembling arms around your thigh. “Hmm?” You coo, putting on a sweet facade. “Don't talk to me like that, c'mon man.” She wails, the attempts to regain control over her voice proving unsuccessful.

You took your nails to the newly formed raspberry scabs on top of your bite wounds and picked them off, and she lunges to grab your arm with inhuman reflexes, but once again you emerge on top, having spent so much time memorizing every last one of her behavioral patterns, so much so you knew exactly how she was going to attempt catching you and moved out the way without thinking about it.

“Too slow, you've gotten predictable.” You ridicule her, embellishing your voice with the most fake, sickly sweet tone you could just to irritate her as much as you possibly could. Ellie lays her head on your thigh, sighing. It's like she's given everything up. Her own patience was running out, potentially entering unpredictable territory now.

You squeeze the sides of the hole in your skin to coax a bubble of bright red blood to ooze out, marveling, “It's such a nice color, I see why you like it so much.” You talk to her coolly, ignoring her tearful, yet terrifyingly rage-filled glares, her massive fangs bared as if you were a prey animal she caught herself and was preparing to rip apart.

“Want a taste, Ellie? Have you earned it?” You think out loud, comically tapping your chin to exaggerate the brainstorming act. “Whatever, it's not like I have anything left to say to you.” She sounded heartbroken, you've never seen someone have such sorrow, the sheer misery behind her eyes actually caught you off guard.

"Okay I think you have earned it, just need you to say one more thing.” She nods, a little too quickly, rushing to catch any tears that were planning an escape route down the sides of her pretty face. You cradle her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin, “Aw, baby, don't cry.” This time however, your tone is sincere.

She doesn't wait for your request, and starts all over again, this is getting old. “I promise everything. I'll make you feel so good, I'll give you whatever you want, please …you're too sweet.” She huffs, “Well, except when you're not.”

She continues mumbling, burying her face in the meat of your thigh, occasionally stopping to lovingly peck where she was laying, quiet smooching sounds. That really melted your heart, you were ready to give her what she needs after so much cruelty. This went on much longer than you had planned, but you were having fun with it. So you decided to abandon whatever you would ask of her. But could anyone blame you?

She slowly reaches for your wounded arm, gauging your reactions, like in the situation you were planning to do something to prevent her, but you come up with a better idea. “I'll do you one even better, Els.” The grin that envelops her face could light up a thousand suns, and melt the coldest of souls. Make vampire hunters quit their careers even, that's how adorable she could be, on the occasion.

You lean back to take your shirt off in one swift motion, and lay back on the edge of the bed, tilting your neck to give her access to the sweet pulsating spot, finding the droplet of drool that falls from her agape mouth utterly hilarious. “Go ahead, I've had my fun.” She hesitates. “But our agreement, I don't wanna hurt you.” “Ellie it's fine, unless you don't want t-” “No I do I do, oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so muchhhh.”

Her gratitude is silly, she's straddling you and kissing all over your neck, face, and collarbones with such care, and you inhale sharply once you feel the familiar sensation of her teeth piercing your sensitive skin.

She has one hand on the nape of your neck, holding you close to her so you couldn't move away, and the other one finds your fingers to intertwine with hers, loud gulping noises filling the room as she messily laps up all that flows from you.

Her bony hips are sat atop your pelvis, and soon enough you feel her start absentmindedly rocking back and forth on you, your breath hitching. You hold her waist to ground yourself, and aid her. She's whispering, mostly to herself, “Fuck that's so fucking good, needed this so bad, need you, fuck- shit. Ah, yes.”

The vertiginous feeling swirls in your head and you feel yourself fading, your grip on her sides loosening, but you don't feel one single ounce of panic, because you know she's got you. No matter what, until the end of time. Or at the very least, until the final bells tolled and you were lowered to your eternal resting place six feet underground.

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[yameoto]

perv!patrick Zweig with a scent kink methinks. (OUGHHHH im having thoughts.)

imagine this mf being your roommate, and you’re just like “oh he seems nice! i hope we’re friends!”

next thing you know, you overhear him whining, and moaning right next to YOUR bed. he’s totally not jerking off using your underwear/any other piece of your clothing, sniffing it, slobbering all over the fabric—

(he would definitely cum on your underwear with no shame. and he’d had clueless when you ask him if he knows why your underwear keeps going missing). he’s obsessed with your natural scent, and lowkey hates it when you wear perfume/cologne to cover it up.

to put it lightly, he pops a boner everything he smells you. hehe 😁

good lord, i have (SO MANY. too many, actually.) other thoughts on the characters of this silly little tennis movie. you didn’t ask but..

you shall receive anyway 🫡🫵

perv!roommate patrick w a scent kink… oh i think the concept of your musk mixing wld drive him crazy. sifting through your dirty laundry like the freak he is and pressing your damp, freshly jacked-off panties to his nose.

and yeah, he’ll lounge back in bed with one hand fisting his cock and the other rubbing your dank panties to his face, of course. but he’ll wanna wear them, too. he’ll take some sick perverted pleasure in that it’s your underwear that his balls are swamping up as he plays hours of tennis under the sun. that it’s your underwear his dick is swelling up against, darkening the fabric in spurts of his precum. that it’s your underwear he has to pull aside to give his sack room to breathe, adjusting them as he walks. and yeah. your underwear that he’ll eventually drench in several fresh loads of cum. wrapping them round his dick and moaning n bucking like wild as if he’s fucking your cunt and not the barest impression of it.

perv!roommate patrick who comes back from practice all sweaty n gross. his skin is sticky, damp clothes clinging to his body, hair plastered to his forehead like he’s just been dunked in water. and of course when he gets back the first thing he does is collapse onto your nice, clean sheets. making a show of rubbing his face into your pillow (and grinding his growing hard-on into your mattress) before you yelp. shove him off. playful.

though, it’s not like you can stop him when you’re not around. the amount of times he’s treated himself after practice; rolling around your sheets like a pig in the mud is countless. patrick’s face buried in your pillow as he huffs the scent of you. dragging his nose further, further down the mattress to press against where your crotch might be and creaming in his pants immediately. grunting like an animal as he humps your blankets n pretending it’s your face. he’s definitely jacked off in your bed, too—once or twice. don’t worry, that old t-shirt you left lying around makes for an excellent cumrag.

perv!roommate patrick just leaving his mark everywhere because maybe if you smell like him, too, then he can pretend that you’re his, for real.

[v5ttelfilms]

methinks max and little leclerc flirt in a distinct way. it's more teasing and playful in nature, probably thick with inside jokes and ughhh😩

max would be all relaxed, just looking at you with a self assured smile, asking, "when will you give me a chance, schatje?" as he looks at you from his perch on the hood of his very flashy aston martin.

"when pigs fly, verstappen." you look up from your phone, to give him a sweet smile, only to lose it in the blink of an eye monotonously. max made a show of putting a hand on his chest, bending his shoulders as to emphasise how much his heart had shaken with the look you gave him.

"you give me so much hope, schat." he sighs dreamily, looking at you earnestly that his eyes sparkled. you finally smiled, rolling your eyes with a small laugh, "don't you ever get tired of this dance?" you remark, amusedly.

his mouth opens to respond, but you both hear the faint exclaim of your name from the distance, a friend of yours waving their hands to beckon you over.

before you could even walk away, max jumps from his seat. he looked resolute, a stubborn furrow on his brow.

"let me take you out. i'll be good." max promises you in a honeyed voice. "i'll even keep my hands to myself, scout's honor." he brandishes an x to his chest, looking at you hopefully.

you notice the difference in him this time; besides the fact that this was the first time he asked you, no, infromed you of his plan to take you out. he finally seemed to find that misplaced confidence once again. he was certain and sure of himself. you kind of liked this look on him.

"somewhere nice." you reply, and max blinks rapidly, as if trying to register your agreement. "and button up's, please." you graze your hands over his collar, giggling at his completely shocked form; unmoving and practically unresponsive with his disbelief.

"and if you don't watch me walk away, date's off." you pat his chest, moving away from him and towards your friend.

you hear the incoherent shouts from behind you, as if max had forced his body to finally move; your friend looked at the exciting scene of one max verstappen fist bumping the air.

"should i be concerned?" she asks you, bemused, while you shake your head and giggled.

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part seven.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 23,873 others

yourusername had to take these pictures myself bc apparently angles are “too hard”

view all 1,972 comments

landonorris maybe you should’ve just asked me 🙄

↳ yourusername as much as i love your results you turn what should be a quick 5 mins into a 20 min photoshoot

↳ landonorris yes and?? i’m not seeing what the downside is 🤨

user HOW MANY LETTERS IN SARGEANT???

user literally who needs boys when girls like y/n exist

↳ user REAL

logansargeant i know about angles

↳ yourusername yes logie and your future girlfriends will thank me for it 🫶

user that dress is stunning and i want it but i know it costs more than a month’s worth of my pay 🥲🥲🥲

user ferrari spotted = y/n for ferrari 2024

↳ user get that girl in a formula car and leT HER DRIVE

oscarpiastri in my defense your heels make you as tall as me 🫤

↳ yourusername methinks it’s just bc you only know how to take one type of picture and it’s the awkward dad kind 🫤

user OSCAR??? HAS OUR HUSBAND RETURNED FROM THE WAR???

↳ user mama y papa

user OP81 IS BACK IN THESE COMMENTS WAR IS OVER

With Oscar by your side, time passes quickly. You don’t bring up that the first night you shared a bed, you’d woken up in the morning with his arm wrapped around your waist and his breath tickling the back of your neck, and you certainly don’t mention that he’d practically whined in his sleep when you’d slipped out of his grasp. It doesn’t happen again, but there’s a part of you hoping that it does.

The days blend together into a haze of happiness, laughter, and exploring the beauty of Monaco. Lando shows you the best spots— a garden just off the Monte Carlo marina, a famous nightclub that takes your breath away, and a small cafe at the edge of the city that overlooks it all.

Things are good, great even, but you can’t help but feel like there’s still some distance between you and Oscar despite his reassurance that everything is fine.

When New Year’s Eve— and subsequently your birthday— arrives, you’re awoken to a flurry of texts. Your parents have both sent sweet messages wishing you the best, Sophia has left a voice message with sounds of traffic in the background telling you she’s planning to get wasted and if you do too then you can just pretend you’re wasted together, and Dalton has made a group chat with you and Logan and has spammed you both with pictures of yourselves from across the years.

Oscar’s already gone, and his side of the bed is cold, so you take your time responding to them all and then shoot off a message of your own to Logan before getting up. It’s your first time not celebrating with your brother, and it feels strange knowing that you won’t get to see him today, but you’re excited nonetheless for the plans Lando and the other drivers in Monaco have organized for New Year’s Eve.

The day passes by lazily. Lando and Oscar both greet you with birthday wishes when you make your way down to the living room and then they present to you a feast for breakfast, which you realize is the reason Oscar was awake so much earlier than you. It’s the best breakfast you’ve ever had, mostly because they make fools of themselves retelling how many times they had to scrap the failed waffles until they got it right. You spend lunch at a place close by, joined by Alex and Lily who have flown in for the New Year, and then the rest of the afternoon you wait around at Lando’s place passing the time watching the boys play games on the TV and helping either of them cheat when asked.

You’re happy.

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logansargeant people say twins are like built-in best friends, and if that’s the case then i’m glad i got you as mine. i can’t imagine having anyone else stick by my side throughout all the crazy and wild shit we’ve been through in our lives. it feels like just yesterday we were 13 and acting as each other's lifelines in a place we barely knew, and now we’re 23 and somehow doing the same thing. you’re my best friend forever.

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yourusername love you to the moon and back again logie 🫶 (but omg these pictures are so OLD)

↳ logansargeant love you to the stars and beyond 🫶 (yea well when else am i gonna post them?)

user i thought the only reason i’d be crying today is bc i don’t have a nye kiss but here we are aND THE BABY HANDS OMG

user I CAN’T DO THIS 😭😭😭

user sobbing over a birthday post was not on my 2023 bingo but i’ll be sure to add it to 2024 if this is gonna be a yearly thing

↳ user birthdays are a yearly thing so yea 💀

user i can’t stop thinking about the fact that each other was all they had when logan pursued racing in europe and now logan’s made it to f1 and they’re still all they have 😭

↳ user the sargeant twins are genuinely gonna be the death of me one of these days

user Y/N HAS BEEN THERE FOR HIM SINCE THE BEGINNING OMG

williamsracing Happiest of birthdays to Y/N! We look forward to seeing you out on the paddock more in 2024, and can’t wait to see what the new year has in store for you! 💙

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yourusername 23 + 23 = 46. 4 + 6 = 10. 10 - 2 = 8 and that’s what we’ve done for the last 23 years 😎 but real talk, i’m genuinely so honored to get to be your sister, and to share so much with you. when you win i share that joy, and when you lose i share that grief, and even though we’re an ocean away, i’m with you today and always for the rest of our lives. you’re my best friend, and even if i don’t have anything or anyone else, i know i have you and that makes me the luckiest girl in the world ❤️.

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user ATE ATE ATE

logansargeant went through all the stages of grief as i read that caption

↳ yourusername i do try

↳ logansargeant i know

user HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARGEANT TWINS

user these pictures of logan are SENDING ME

↳ user y/n always feeds the ppl the low qual pics

alex_albon adding these to my folder of embarrassing pictures to blackmail logan with

↳ yourusername happy doing business with you sir 🤝

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user my mental health is dependent on the friendship between y/n and logan and it is STRUGGLING today lads

user can’t wait to see more of them in 2024!!

Lando finds you as you’re getting ready, putting the final touches on your makeup. He enters when you tell him to, and then leans against the bathroom counter for a moment just staring at you before you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“How are things going between you and Oscar?”

You lower the mascara wand and shrug, “I mean, it’s good.”

“But?” He prompts.

“But I feel like he’s still… being weird?” You slip the wand back into the mascara tube and then tuck it back into your bag. “I don’t know. Maybe we were a bit too realistic with the whole ‘making him jealous’ thing, and now he believes you’ve stuck your claim and he’s distancing himself because he doesn’t want to step on your toes or something.”

Lando snorts, “As if. I made him share a room with you, how does that in any way imply that I’m trying to stake my claim on you?”

You run a hand through your hair because you can’t run it down your face without ruining your freshly done makeup, and heave a sigh. “Then maybe he just isn’t actually interested in me at all, and I was right about him wanting to pretend the kiss never happened.”

He hums, then nods once, twice, a third time, and finally leaves the bathroom without another word.

When you finally follow him down, a number of people have already arrived— Alex and Lily are among them, and you greet them again with smiles and hugs. You’re introduced to Max Fewtrell, one of Lando’s close friends, and then you’re dragged away by Lily to hang out in the corner of the living room as the house begins to fill with current and former drivers alike.

“It’s a sausage fest,” she jokes, and you laugh beside her.

You both make conversation for a while, catching up on her and Alex’s holiday spent in California with her family and then talking about your own in Florida with yours. She asks how Logan’s doing, and you tell her that he’s well, but he’s really motivated and wants the chance to prove himself in the 2024 season already.

“I think the online discourse about whether or not he deserved a seat got to him a bit,” you admit. “But I know he can show them that there’s a reason he was chosen.”

Lily nods. “Me and Alex have faith in him too. It was his rookie year and he was in a Williams of all things. Like you said, there was a reason he was chosen, he just needs the opportunity to show the world that.”

You jump from topic to topic for a little while longer, until you excuse yourself to go find where Lando and Oscar have run off to. The guests have all arrived from the looks of it, and while a number of them all know each other already and have split off into groups to stay entertained, you’re not sure exactly how you’re meant to handle things on your own when it isn’t even your house—

“I mean, it’s fine, yeah? It’s just awkward with her, I guess.” You pause. The door to you and Oscar’s shared room is ajar and Oscar’s voice is just barely audible over the sound of music and chatter filtering up from downstairs.

“Why d’you say that? It’s just Y/N.” Lando’s voice follows.

You press yourself up against the wall, heart pounding in your chest at the sound of your name. You can’t see anything, and that almost makes it worse— imagining what their faces look like as they talk about you.

“Just that it’s weird sleeping next to her, and I feel like I’m always having to walk on glass around her. I’m trying to make things normal again, but I don’t think I can. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep being friends with her. How can I look her in the face, knowing what happened?”

You can physically feel the dread settle into your stomach. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest and it’s like your blood has turned to ice in your veins. Your face feels warm, but the rest of your body feels cold, and suddenly it’s as though your ribcage has become too small for your lungs.

As quietly as you can, you scurry away from the door, across the distance of the hallway, and then down the stairs. Instead of turning into the living room where everyone else has gathered, their laughter and conversations a jumbled bubble of noise that makes your chest feel even tighter, you leave through the front door just as you feel tears begin to fall.

It’s worrying how frequently this has become an occurrence for you— crying because of Oscar.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel

━━ a/n: ahhhh i'm sorry i cannot let them be happy!! also, wrote this really fast and struggled a bit because i genuinely couldn't decide if it was just too fast paced or not, so i apologize if it seems rushed or if there are any mistakes editing wise that i missed!

[citrustan]

i see u are taking drabble requests!! could i very gently very nicely ask to plz have a yoongi x reader drabble? it can be angsty fluffy or smutty i just rlly miss yoongi, aaand thank u in advance!!

thanks! i will choose all three (barely-there smut bec i just need to get comfortable w it through practice)

love-daze (myg)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: unrequited love?, friends to ?

warnings: methinks this can be considered infidelity but not really?? as for the characters, all's open to interpretation. :p unedited. this is raw raw ok.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, unwrapping your arms from around him.

After a few beats, still zoned-out, Yoongi moans in disapproval, "No, keep going, this is fine."

He adjusts you on his lap and tilts his head back.

Still unsure, you go back to placing soft kisses all over his neck. Desperate to make Yoongi happy, you put a little more energy into it as you begin to gently grind on him.

Occasional whimpers and sighs float around the cold room. While that would seem to be enough to send you over the moon, it doesn't seem to help you this time.

"Yoongi..." You tiredly sigh.

You want to make Yoongi feel good, but at this point, you know he's too distracted.

Thinking of her.

And you find that unfair. He was the one who called you after all. Because he knew you'd always be around. Only for him.

You were never shy about your feelings for Yoongi, so when you couldn't get him to reciprocate romantically, you figured you'd give it a shot anyway and offered yourself for him to use whenever he wanted, for whatever he wanted.

Yoongi was intrigued.

He seemingly never did end up needing you though.

Until now.

Two hours ago, you were having a lovely night in when Yoongi came over to tell you that his girlfriend had turned down his marriage proposal a few days ago.

An hour a half ago, you had tried to talk him into giving her more space.

Thirty minutes ago, he ended up calling her anyway, which in turn made her distance herself even more, demanding that he was not to call her again.

And now, Yoongi has you naked, on his lap, trying to make himself forget about everything--- his ex, her rejection, the humiliation, their relationship and plans... just all of it.

Yoongi wanted to hurt her, too. His own pleasure is just a bonus.

He knew that if she ever caught wind of you and him, it'd destroy her. It's mean.

You had cried for days when you accidentally heard about it through one of your mutual friends. Yet, you understood, and continued to love him silently while distancing yourself from the couple.

For some reason unknown to Yoongi (and you), Sera always had been insecure about you. Not that Yoongi gave her any reason to be, even offering to seize all contact with you.

You loved him but you would never try to steal his happiness in this manner or break up a relationship.

Both Sera and Yoongi noticed the lack of your presence in their lives.

During that short period, she also observed how Yoongi seemed moodier and a little more disengaged in general. Especially when they were out with their friends.

She felt guilty because she didn't want to be the kind of woman who stopped her faithful boyfriend from having friends.

For a while, Sera thought she might've just been a masochist or something because what real reason did she have to refuse Yoongi's offer?

But deep down, she knew why. And she couldn't just wait till Yoongi comes to realise it too.

It was mostly the guilt though.

Sera felt guilty because she had always known about your interest in him but had decided to pursue him anyway.

So when Yoongi finally asked her her hand in marriage, she felt guilty because it came out of nowhere. And she knew it was Yoongi's attempt to salvage whatever feelings for her he was trying to conjure within himself.

She felt it eating at her when she saw the look on your face when she was first introduced as Yoongi's girlfriend. She remembers how defeated and sad you were. One would expect jealousy, or anger, or even hatred, but you were always cordial with her.

Sera detested it. It'd have been a lot easier to hate you if you were a cunt.

It's probably karma, she thinks.

Sera always felt like an intruder in your lives even though she was the girlfriend. Even though Yoongi never really looked at you in a way she would be worried about, she just... felt something.

She doesn't know why Yoongi never let you in, and selfishly hadn't cared.

Which is why Sera isn't surprised to see Yoongi at your place now. She saw it on your Instagram story, but it was deleted almost immediately.

Was it on purpose? Posted just for her? She didn't know. It made her crazy but, to reiterate, she wasn't surprised.

Back at your cozy apartment, Yoongi finally looks you in the eye, expectantly, brows somewhat raised.

All she could do now was watch the man she loves be with someone else. As you had done.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

Again, you ask, "Are you really, really sure you want this?"

Yoongi sees the loving expression on your face and his breath hitches. You didn't deserve this.

The long pause answered all your questions.

You don't know why you're disappointed, you had offered yourself to him. It was your choice.

Sadly, giving him a tight-lipped smile, you sigh.

Before you could speak, he tilts your head towards his own, making your foreheads touch.

You gulp, afraid of what he might say.

"_____, you deserve to be treated with respect. And, I'm... just failing."

With a shaky voice, he rubs his thumb on your cheek, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" You whisper back in a similar tone.

"Exactly. You shouldn't be. I won't take advantage of you like this." Yoongi is stern. Mostly speaking to himself.

"Yoongi, I'm not offended... I told you, I'm okay with this." You pull back, confused.

But you don't care, "What if I want to be taken advantage of?"

"_____..." He moans your name, breathless.

He firmly places his hands on your waist. You expect him to grope you, but instead, he holds you in place, "_____. Not like this. We're too... vulnerable. This is new," He observes your expressions, "So, let's not rush into anything?"

"Yoonie... I can feel you. I want to be used. I want you so bad. I always have." You resume grinding on him, "Look at yourself, you want me so bad it drives you crazy. I know you care about me."

You lean in to peck his lips, and he reciprocates.

At that, you instantly snap out of your love-daze.

What did he mean by this? Let's not rush into anything.

Your face was expressive, making him smile a little. You then lift yourself off of him.

Yoongi's forcing himself not to ogle your tits or the string of your sticky wetness detaching from his trousers as you moved to sit next to him.

The two of you have a lot to heal through.

Yoongi stood up from your couch to retrieve your crocheted throw which he then uses to swaddle you. You stare up at him with big eyes as he wrapped the material around you, making him playfully scoff.

Meekly, you suggest, "We can just... talk if you'd like."

Yoongi kneels in front of you, "I don't know how to thank you for being there for me, _____." He has a solemn face.

Well, the thing you had in mind was clearly not going to happen. Not that you're complaining. It's just... Not what you expected.

Placing a hand atop your own, he softly smiles, "I'd love that, _____."

note: ok like ack-chu-ally idk what this turned into i just wanted to write like a 100 word thing about reader patiently waiting for yoongi to realise his feelings for her

But I Just Couldn't STop going on and im curious to see the response to this because I think I hate it kinda

[slowd1ving]

TALES OF A DISGRUNTLED CORVID ⁺ 　 . MOZE

Quite frankly, you've been assigned an absolute loser (unaffectionate) to work with after your dramatic exit from the Intelligentsia Guild. Whoever said this guy was too silent was wrong, as he verily proves himself as the bane of your existence with his ceaseless yapping. art credits to @code_tesseract on x!! and tagging @ilovechuuy4 as requested :3 pairings: moze + male cryptologist reader (will be part of a series methinks) warnings: male reader, mentions of assassination? may be a touch ooc since this is pre-release writing unfortunately, lowkey crack fic, pre relationship, business partnership of hating each other wc: 1.9k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There’s never a dull day when a certain Shadow Guard is your partner for an assignment. Truly, your life always sparkles brilliantly when the information pings on your Jade Abacus; without fail, everything gains just a bit more colour, a bit more vivaciousness. Pathetically fallacious, you might’ve described it as had you taken literature classes: mood hued with such dynamic chromaticity that you fear you might explode into little prismic rainbows. Always such a bundle of joy to be geminate with him. 

“Must you be so… disorganised?”

Oh, who are you kidding.

It’s always a dull day when you’re paired with Moze.

“Get out.” A particularly rude gesture materialises in your open hand as you stare at the door he practically kicked down. Apartments in this particular sector of the Xianzhou Yaoqing do not come cheap, and you half-wonder whether he’d eke out coin to console your landlord. Then, with an especially sour, lemon-like expression, you realise he would fork out his own money just to make your life more difficult. 

When you first got assigned work in the Yaoqing (read: kicked to the curb by the Intelligentsia Guild to gain real world experience), you really did expect your tenure to be plain office work. Letters, forms, public relations—these mundanities you anticipated. In fact, you would’ve relished such tedium; after decrypting endless scientific formulae and pondering your mysterious tomes, engaging in bureaucratic matters would be a piece of cake! A little treat for your weary eyes—if you closed them, you could still see faint imprints of equations in the theatre of your mind. 

But what you hadn’t factored into your (ahem) calculations was just how sharp the Arbiter-General Feixiao was: just how passionate she was about pursuing Abominations and ruthlessly eliminating them, just how frank and swift the Madam General was. You also forgot that out of all the flagships, the Yaoqing were one of the most militarily driven. A blunder most fatal. 

“Thy talents would be wasted in the mere administrative wing,” Feixiao gesticulated. “Come, child, put thy brain and brawn to use and track down these villainous curs most evil.”

“Goodness, Madam General!” you’d cried out pitifully. “My heart is thine for the keeping!”

Or something like that. Actually, it may have not all been like that. 

After all, you were kicked out (temporarily! temporarily!) partly due to your penchant for delivering heart-rendering performances to your professors to avoid taking on their extra work. Such moving renditions, that they had to let you go lest you broke their bleeding hearts. Had you known you’d be working in the shady corners of intelligence and decryption, you would’ve kowtowed to the Guild for utmost forgiveness. Probably. 

When your path first overlapped with the Shadow Guards’, you honestly couldn’t give two hoots about the rumours that followed silently behind their own noiseless steps. Your ears had perked somewhat at the gossip your colleagues threw back and forth—though, who could blame you. The job was no fun!

Weirdo with the crow feathers, they’d murmured. He’s so quiet. What a reticent chap. 

Of course, you’d disagree, and perhaps tack on a loser to the descriptions of Moze. You’d disagree not with the ‘weirdo’, but rather with the quiet and reticent adjectives—partly because he really does need to shut up more. 

And he needs to stick to his rumours more. If this loner’s made it a point to not work with people, then why oh why did the honourable Madam General decide your ancient science and study complemented his shady skillset? And why oh why does he never refuse her request? (You’ve conveniently forgotten how you always fold when it comes to her.) You’ve always worked alone too, for as long as you can remember; decoding the ancient equations in ruins and solving their gimmicky puzzles using your boundless wits is a job for one. 

As it stands, the people he investigates, the work he takes care of, sometimes intrudes into the realm of questionable rituals and summonings the Abominations and their ilk oft partake in. Thus do you find your career verging into some gruesome form of forensics as you stare down what would commonly be considered a murder scene: sigils and ancient alchemical algebra staring right back at you. He deals with the human aspect of intelligence: the psychology, the crime, the covert espionage. You deal with the technical fallout: the analysis of antique sciences is your specialty, after all. This has culminated in a begrudging partnership where both parties wish nothing more than to leave it. 

A business relationship, of sorts, founded on the mutual dislike (a weak description) of each other. 

“No.” He doesn’t budge from where he leans against the doorframe, but he does have the decency to swing the door closed behind him. Yet, it’s not out of any respect for the hallowed sanctity of your abode, but more because he’s sooo Mysterious and Aloof that none of your neighbours are allowed to view his visage. 

“You are—” a quick glance at your watch proves your point. For someone obsessed with keeping tidy, he sure does have messy time management. “—eighteen minutes too early.”

“And you still aren’t ready,” he counters, pointedly eyeing the loose shirt and comfortable cotton trousers slung over your hips. You yawn, tired already from his yapping. He’s been compared to a crow for as long as you’ve been here—and perhaps far longer—but to you he’s always been more like a little dog. Yap. Yap. Yap. 

This is precisely why I don’t work with others, you can almost taste his words—his thoughts. 

“You are currently the biggest hindrance to my getting ready,” you grimace. Casting a quick glance over his intricate garb, it’s no wonder he feels getting ready is such a lengthy endeavour: all straps and buckles and tough layers that makes him the walking fortress he is. “I’ll be on time.”

He doesn’t reply: laconic only when he acknowledges your point as unequivocally right, which is seldom. 

“Are you going to keep staring?” you snap as you sling the worn shirt from your body. Beneath the soft clothes is muscle hard-won through your frequent collaborations with the Armed Archaeologists in the Guild: days filled with more sparring and their stupid callisthenics than actually finding ruins. 

“Do you have to dress right here?” he counters, but it’s a futile argument—this apartment is barely big enough for you as it stands. Currently, he’s situated by the doorway, but you’re on the unseen boundaries of the living room and the tiny kitchen. Beyond is your bedroom and miniscule bathroom, of which neither have enough space to move comfortably to change. And you certainly aren’t going to sacrifice your comfort to appease his poor eyes; he’s seen worse for sure. Though, you doubt he’s ever seen a naked body that wasn’t in the context of assassination and the anatomy classes you know he’s meticulously attended for his shady work. Surreptitiously, you snicker at the thought: that there aren’t any lovers lined up for this weirdo. 

You toss the garment onto your couch, precisely because you know he’s grinding teeth over it; and there’s that tell-tale click of molar against molar. You even whistle a bit as you untie the neat bow holding your trousers to your hips; the fabric pools on the floor, and you don’t make any move to pick it up. 

There it is. His glower—red-hot and piercing through the flesh and sinew of your back—is heavy in this small space. What you don’t see, however, is how his eyes flicker briefly across your body, down the firm step of your legs as you step out of the trousers. Out of context, watching muscle ripple and twist as you strip forces crimson to seep into his face. This is an implication he’s absolutely disgusted with—with you. 

“If you have any more input as to what I do in my home, you’re welcome to pay my rent first,” you finally deign to reply, rummaging in the dresser in your hallway—which he knows has never been neat with all the clothes spilling from the edges. His eye twitches. 

“You’re an incorrigible man,” he retorts, carmine flush now from irritation rather than anything else. Irritation from the beginning, because it was never anything else. 

“Wow,” you blink, weighing your options between shirt A and shirt B. The cherry-red with straps, or the Prussian blue with straps, you muse, holding the shirts against your beloved grey cargoes. “You sound exactly like my professor. Same adjective and everything.”

When it comes to shameless people, there comes the very real risk of insults being nullified by the insulted through them simply agreeing. 

“No wonder the Guild kicked you out.” As you’re pulling the scarlet fabric over your head, you pause—it seems he’s finally hit a nerve. There’s a rare smile toying with his lips at the victory: one he doesn’t notice, but ghosts across his face nonetheless.

Now, there are many things you could reply to that with. Such as, did your parents give you a reason when they abandoned you? Nay, that is too low of a blow. No wonder you don’t have any friends. But he probably grapples with that bitter reality each morning, gnashing his teeth and beating his chest. 

“Bold of you to speak of being unwanted,” you comment matter-of-factly. Both insults it is then, wrapped neatly into an ambiguous tale of these eight words. His smile fades. 

With a slight gasp, you finally wrangle the tight material on—it’s armour, after all, a specific textile development by the Yaoqing for the protection of civilians and tourists alike, though you aren’t considered a tourist by your special work-abacus-plaque. It fits snugly against you: straps for knives sit tight against your forearms, while the harness that provides extra support for your torso rests neatly beneath your chest. The garb’s almost like a compression shirt from your home planet, except the Yaoqing has far more violent uses for it. 

“Didn’t Guard Zhí reject you?” He bites out, and it takes a minute for you to realise he’s talking about Zhí Hua, the best friend you’d made on the flagship—and your Shadow Guard drinking buddy. 

“Huh?” Dumbfoundedly, you pause in doing the buckles on your trousers, losing far more time than you’d bargained for. “A-hua is my friend.”

The diminutive doesn’t go unnoticed, which rankles him far more than falling prey to the rumour about you and his fellow Guard. No, both rankle him—likely because hearing about a workplace romance about you just disgusts him in general. 

“Pfft,” you snort out, finally done with the laborious task of adjusting the materiel and various other gadgets attached to your body. “I have got to tell her about this. Who knew your ability to gather information would be stopped by a rumour?”

The tightness in his chest lessens somewhat. 

“Besides, everyone already knows my heart belongs to the Madam General,” you sigh, clasping your hands to your chest in a dreamy gesture. It’s an ongoing joke: you professing your deep adoration of Feixiao after she gives you a pay raise for putting up with the so-called ‘reticent’ Moze. “Woah, what’s with the sour look?”

“Gross,” he mutters. 

As you step near the doorway to grab your boots, you lean into his space mockingly: and he recoils back in even more revulsion. 

“Of course, you wouldn’t know.” You pat his shoulder once, condescendingly, then promptly slip your heavy boots off the shelf. “Since there’s no one who loves you.”

And his glare as you shuffle your shoes on is poignant. 

 ₊  ⋆   ☾

[mrcrawly]

Jayvik headcanons

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

Viktor

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

Ibuprofen allergy. source: my twisted mind

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

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

chronic nail biter

big sweet tooth

great cook but a shitty baker

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

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

love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service

likes to be touched but not held (autism)

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

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

children like Viktor. Viktor doesn't like children back

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jayce

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

viktor is hyperlexic so it works out alright

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(i was an accutane kid and im projecting)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

bottom. argue with the wall

OUGHHHH my shayla 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

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