#land of thoughts and flow

[tournamentstuck]

masterpost

[magnusmodig]

rough childhood headcanon qs / anonymous / accepting !

╰┈➤ 1 . does your muse blame themselves for their trauma?

||. As is ever the case with Thor Odinson, the short answer is still, in itself, complicated. Ultimately the answer is, in my personal opinion, yes , though Thor is an incredibly introspective person, and so he can be self-aware enough of himself and his family situation to see it plainly for what it was. Thor is not a doormat. But whether or not he fully commits to acting on what he's feeling, and thinking based that awareness is its own issue. One mostly steeped in how Thor views himself and partly how he views his own family (specifically: he views them all with blinding rose-colored glasses ESPECIALLY once they've died, regardless of the damage they've caused him).

For some context on what I mean, by "how Thor views himself", I mean that he is shown to have something of an atlas complex (also known as: superman complex, savior/hero syndrome, codependency). Everything comes down to him. He's the strongest, so he'll do it. He can outlive and outlast, so he'll endure. He's the eldest, so it's his responsibility. So on and so forth very often times coming out as "I will solve this problem for you" statements most notably with Jane Foster. He takes failure personally, especially when other people are at stake, or the collateral. And he will hold himself accountable for tragedies beyond his control at length. In "The Avengers" and a deleted scene in "Thor: Ragnarok" he actively and repeatedly lumps himself in with his family (aka his father and siblings, mostly), and their catastrophic, destructive actions and pasts — both of which are things that thor himself actually hasn't partaken to any large degree (unless we count the failed Jotunheim heist and even that he WAS going to bail on before his temper got the best of his judgement.) He proceeds to call them (his family) "bilge snipe", while using the terms "we" (denotating himself as part of the issue) and proceeds to call the metaphorical bilge snipe "repulsive". He does this again in Ragnarok while telling Banner that "we're cursed to fight amongst ourselves while everyone else suffers for it"), meaning his opinions on the matter have not changed since 2012.

And by "blinding rose colored glasses" I mean that Thor has another tendency to see the good in people, partly in nature and partly deliberately, especially when seeking it out. And he does this especially when it comes to his family, and he will justify their actions by trying to step into their shoes even when it may not always be appropriate. (//gestures at literally all of thor: ragnarok and how he still idolizes his father to an obscene degree thankstaika re: "i'm not as strong as you", and even further back to the way thor speaks to odin in thor 2011 at the end of his banishment re: "there will never be a wiser king than you or a better father". He also idolizes Loki in "The Dark World" with the line "loki, for all of his grave imbalance, understood rule as i know i never will" and to a lesser degree does this with Frigga in the same film "she saved us all, a thousand times.")

From a slightly more psychological perspective:

The long and short of it is that it is much easier to blame yourself for things that hurt you that were beyond yourself. Especially when you can't understand it, or didn't deserve it. Especially when they come from someone you hold in high esteem, and hold a lot of love for. Like caregivers and family. In a twisted way, it grants the guilt-bearer some level of CONTROL over their emotions and their situation that they did not have in the moment the hurt occurred. If you're can blame yourself, then you're at fault. If you're at fault, then you can feel guilty, and if you're guilty, then you can atone. You can actively work to make up for it. ( "By blaming ourselves, we maintain the perception that we’re still in control of the situation and ultimately safe -even when we’re not." - rosscenter.com) This is especially critical in children who go through this sort of parental dysfunction and neglect. And the reason why I think this is not a development saved for his young adult -> adult years is because of exactly what we see on screen.

Thor comes from a family that is just as loving as it is toxic. His father was so good at being a wise king that he completely failed at being a good father. It's something Thor even calls out in "The Dark World" ("I'd rather be a good man than a great king") after speaking on how being king is losing who you are to politics and mind games and war. Odin as a parent, and Odin's overbearing, all-encompassing shadow of a legacy is what Thor's entire character arc was always about overcoming. His mother, Frigga, is by far the most decent of the bunch, but she is far from perfect. To pull from a previous meta on the subject, my opinion on frigga/thor is as follows: " [...] an unfortunate cycle in which [Frigga] spent SO MUCH ENERGY [...] making sure [Loki] felt seen/heard and had “some sun for himself” that she COMPLETELY neglected to see that her other son was in just as much pain as the youngest was [...] And only realized how estranged they had become when it was too late, and she couldn’t reach Thor anymore. (She also died before she could make it right.)"

His brother is arguably the person he was ever closest to (even among his friend group), up until his brother manipulated and betrayed his trust, killed him, attempted suicide in front of him, tried to take over earth as payback, tried to kill him again, rejected him outright, and then got put into jail.

Suffice it to say that while I think that Thor's issues stem from deep childhood trauma (and only ever further reenforced by the fact he ages so slowly), my dude's got some issues, and blaming himself for past trauma is definitely one of them. (When he can't get away with internalizing it and avoiding it any longer, anyways.) I do also think to a lesser degree this behavior does also count towards friends, just to a less extreme degree. With the main difference being: Thor adores his family. He wants to keep them close to him. He's incredibly protective of all of them. Which isn't to say he doesn't love his friends, because that would be the biggest lie. But friends come and go. Thor will always want to be a good friend, but he wants to be a good son even more than that. And so in cases of conflict with a friend and a peer, Thor will gladly and readily call out his friends for their bad behavior just as readily as he would also dismiss and justify their bad behavior towards himself. (you know like not checking in on him for five years in "endgame", apparently...)

[twinghoulites]

Land of Thoughts and Flow: Be calm

[b0kevi]

saying “let’s make out” every time they(house warden + jamil) do something hot

summary: whenever they do something attractive you blurt out ‘let’s make out’ to see what they’ll do

trope: established relationship, suggestive themes

info: making out obv, they/them pronouns, gender neutral reader, not proofread

character: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, jamil, vil, idia, malleus (epel, jade, floyd, lilia, ortho mentioned)

w/c: riddle: 465 leona: 456 azul: 499 kalim: 532 jamil: 424 vil: 435 idia: 527 malleus: 493

riddle

no.

red as his hair

will scream no until he caves

only in private

gentle make out sessions

riddle was currently scolding at his dorm mates for failing to listen and interrupting your guys time together in the garden.

you didn’t mind but the way riddle was so assertive and how he looked in his house warden uniform, you couldn’t help but stare.

once they left, he turned towards you to apologize but before he could say anything you said,

“we should make out.”

he’s so red you don’t know where his hairline starts.

“w-where did that come from?! w-we are in public! that’s against rule 565! absolutely not!”

“hm does that mean we can in private? is that against the queens rules?”

he thought for a moment before grabbing your hand, he pulled you towards the dorm as he walked in front of you to hide his flushed face.

“I.. suppose it isn’t. come on now.”

°˖➴

“this is inappropriate my rose…”

you currently pulled riddle into the nearest empty room you could find.

he was helping out his fellow dorm mates study, you were there to study as well but you were way too distracted by riddles voice.

the way he was assertive yet soft spoken with them. he wanted to make sure the information was getting to them but didn’t want to sound too strict or rude.

that made you snap as you pulled him away from the group.

“is it against the queens rules to want to make out with your very attractive partner?”

riddle placed his hands on your shoulders to keep some distance between you two but he wasn’t doing a good job, he made no effort to push you away

“we have to get back now.” you frowned as you placed a small peck on the edge of his lips.

“no, we can do this later.”

“…no…”

riddle made a frustrated sound before crashing his lips towards yours.

“you’re a bad influence my rose.”

°˖➴

riddle has been cooped up in his room all day. you came over to check on him, reminding him to take breaks but when he’s studying— old habits die hard.

words were not getting through him so you had to resort to actions.

you landed a kiss on his jawline which made him freeze and flare up.

“h-huh?!”

you place more kisses on his jaw and cheek

“w-what are you doing??”

the more kisses you place the redder he gets. he knew what you were doing, he so badly wanted to push you away but he could never do that to you.

he cups your face before boldly pulling your face to his.

roughly kissing you at first but later eases up, gently kissing you, letting all his tension flow away as he kisses you silly.

leona

100% ego boost

cocky

will make out with you right then and there no matter where you are

lazy make out sessions

makes you take the lead until he gets in the mood and takes over

Leona wasn’t doing anything fancy, all he was doing was tidying his hair up in a high ponytail, getting ready for spell drive training.

you were watching him get ready. you love when he puts his hair up, makes him look even more handsome, and leona is already extremely handsome. you’re practically memorized

“we should totally make out.”

he froze a second- caught off guard by your words then smirked at you, you could practically see his ego inflating

“getting bold now herbivore?”

he doesn’t hesitate to give it to you. he crawls towards you, grabbing your waist and attaching his lips to yours roughly.

he might be a little late to practice, but it’s worth it since he’s spending his time with you and getting a reward of seeing the aftermath of your messy face.

°˖➴

it was your first time seeing leona in his official spell drive uniform and

oh my sevens.

he was with his team going over the plan for the game and you couldn’t help but admire how well the uniform looks on him. once he finished, you couldn’t help but say

“let’s make out.”

he chuckles, “what? is that supposed to motivate me?”

his teammates heard— scoffing and snickering.

“i really don’t need to see that before a game..” you could hear epel muttering afar.

leona smirked wide, loving when you get bold enough to say that in public, he’s not afraid to show everyone who you belong to. he pulled you in, devouring your lips right in front of everyone which made everyone gagged— leaving to do something else.

°˖➴

Leona was taking a nap per usual but something about the way the sunlight casted down on his face, enhancing his features made you giddy.

"we should make out."

leona opened one eye to look at you, questioning what you just said. after seeing your determine face, he knew he heard right and you were serious

"then you better get over here herbivore, before I change my mind."

you smiled wide as you jumped on top of him, his hands immediately found your hips to balance you. you kissed him slowly first as he lazily replied.

slow and lazy yet you could feel his love pouring out while running his hands up and down your sides until he started to feel more awake. He’ll never say it out loud but through his actions that’s when it started getting more heated, you had your turn now it’s time for him to show you who’s the king.

azul

flustered everytime

never say that in public, if the twins heard that.. he will hide in his octopod

will only do it if you’re alone

sweet make sessions, not too rough not too gentle

secretly loves when you want to make out

you were waiting for azul to finish up some business at mostro lounge when someone approached you, clearly flirting with you.

you kept reminding them you have a boyfriend and are not interested but they were persistent.

“come on, just one date? then you’ll see if you still want to be with this ‘boyfriend’” you looked disgusted but before you could say anything a voice came behind them.

“that will not be happening. as you can see we are going out on our own date right now, they made it clear they are not interested so please get out or do I need to show you where the door is?” azul was by your side as you saw the twins looming over the person. they got the message and headed out.

“are you alright my pearl?”

“we should make out.” you blurted out as you found that attractive, the twins were snickering as azul turned pink.

“w-what?! what are you- let’s just go.”

°˖➴

azul was scheming up contracts while you were keeping him company. this gave you the opportunity to get a good look at him, the way his glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, beauty mark looking so kissable right now..

you walked behind his chair looking over his shoulder pretending to be interested before casually saying,

“we should make out right now.”

his pen stopped abruptly, messing up what he was writing. you could see his ears turning pink

“w-well, ahem. I guess I do need a break…” he looked around the room even though it was just the two of you, he pulled you onto his lap still looking flustered and guiding himself to your lips.

°˖➴

“my pearl��� i’ve told you about this.” you once again announce that you wanted to make out instead of the twins again. he can only take so much of their teasing.

he will gladly do it with no cost but please stop saying it in front of them.

“sorry zul… but… can we?” you had the hopeful glint in your eyes that he couldn’t resist, your lucky he pulled you in his vip room because he really did wanted to kiss you silly.

he sighs, “I should make you pay… but i’ll let it slide just this once.” he cradled your face as he kisses you shyly.

kissing azul was always so sweet, you could tell he was nervous but he put on a front of being confident. azul always sets a steady pace, making it enjoyable for you two.

*knock knock*

“quit sucking each others faces! bleh”

“there are quite a lot of people out here.”

the tips of azuls ears were pink as he groaned. getting one last kiss before he had to leave.

kalim

giggly

loves kissing you, will do it, you don’t even need to ask

will laugh and smile throughout the session

he’s so happy, he can’t keep his hands off you

doesn’t matter where you are but he doesn’t want jamil yelling at him so will prefer private

you and kalim were outside enjoying the sun as he was talking about his day and anything that came to him. he was so bright that your face always hurts when you’re around him from smiling so much.

he was currently making a flower crown as he continued to talk, you were supposed to be making one as well for him but you got distracted as you stared at kalim.

his eyes were like ruby’s as you got lost in them, suddenly remembering how sweet he is. he always saw the good in everything which you loved and admired, it was a nice change considering everyone else at nrc.

“we should make out.” you muttered as you were thinking about all the sweet moments with kalim.

“okay!” kalim didn’t hesitate to lean over to peck your lips then diving back in to leave longer and loving kisses, giggling every once in a while through your lips. he never questions you, always willing or finding excuses(or just straight up) to kiss you.

one hand was running through your hair while the other was playing with your fingers.

°˖➴

kalim invited you to watch him practice at his club and you gladly accepted.

kalim was so talented at the drums it blew you away. they sounded so good and you were having a great time enjoying the music.

kalims outfit was so casual, he was so cute with his beanie you wanted to smooch his face so bad. you were trying so hard to not interrupt him.

practice was finally over and kalim rushed over to you giggling.

“what did you think?”

“you were amazing baby! you were so cool, we should make out.” kalim eyes widened before laughing loudly

“my, young love…” lilia commented as he exited.

“you’re so silly habibi!” he gives you the biggest kiss with the loudest ‘MWAH’ sound. he’s smiling through your kisses while cupping your face between his hands.

will not stop until someone kicks you two out.

°˖➴

“UGH I’ve missed you so much habibi…” jamil didn’t leave kalims side at all today, making sure he gets stuff done and doesn’t do anything crazy which left no time for you two.

kalim has been dying for your affection all day. he plopped down on his bed, pulling you into his grasp

“can we make out… pleaseee?” kalim asked as he’s already placing sweet kisses on your neck and cheek.

you giggle, “i was just about to ask you that.”

kalim lights up as he makes his way to your lips.

laughing through your kisses, always pulling away a bit to kiss the other parts of your face as his hands roam over your body.

he always enjoys moments like this where he can fully love you without anyone interfering or jamil pulling them away. he can let his love overflow through his kisses and touches so you get the message.

jamil

hides behind his hood

you’re crazy

savory make out sessions, loves taking his time with you

he’s very busy so will have to wait until he gets a break

if he could he would do it anywhere anytime

Jamil was making food for yet another party kalim was throwing. you were accompanying him, helping out here and then.

you love watching him cook, how he moves so effortlessly through the kitchen, you couldn't help but blurt out what was on your mind.

"we should totally make out right now.."

jamil paused his cutting. his face heated up but he could just blame the boiling water. he swiftly put his hood up so you couldn’t see his face, trying to play it off

"what are you talking about? help me get these in the water." he changed the subject but he would definitely love to make out with you, maybe he will later.

°˖➴

jamil invited you to watch him play basketball since you’ve been asking him. he moves so agile, making baskets mostly every time. he looks so fine with his hair up, sweat dripping down his face.

they were taking a break and you handed jamil his water bottle,

“you looked so cool out there jamil! we should make out.”

he almost spat out his water. so caught off guard because of your compliment then your statement.

he couldn’t hide his face with his hood so he just used his hand to hide his blush.

“you’re crazy.”

he tried to play it off but then he looked around to make sure no one was listening to them before mumbling

“as much as I would love to right now… we can later, promise.”

°˖➴

jamil finally got time to himself but it was nighttime. that didn’t matter to you, you were just happy to spend time with him. he was currently taking out his braids as you laid in his bed.

before you could get the words out, jamil was already on top of you, devouring your lips.

“i’ve been waiting all day to do that.” he muttered against your lips, leaving kisses all over your face as he continues to speak, “you don’t know how badly I wanted to kiss you every time you asked to make out.” he kisses your jaw, “you drive me insane.”

he basically is sucking the air out of you, savoring the taste of your lips since it’s so rare for him to spend time with you, he loves to take advantage of the time he has to himself.

vil

you’ll ruin his makeup, no

admires your forwardness

either elegant and soft make out sessions or messy sessions depending on what he’s doing later

doesn’t mind messing up his makeup if you’re alone and he doesn’t have to go anywhere later

if he has a shoot, no he will not kiss you, don’t think about it

Vil was trying new makeup products and invited you over to his room to try them out. you love when he does your makeup you get to shamelessly admire him up close. he was putting blush on you, one hand holding your chin up as he applied it to your cheek.

“we should make out…”

his eyes widen then soften as he laughed, you can be so forward when you wanted to.

“that will ruin our makeup dear.” he saw you pout and he couldn’t help himself. he sighs and pulled you closer to him

“you’re lucky my schedule is free today. i’m all yours~” he attacked your lips, he can’t wait to see the finish result of your guys ruined faces.

°˖➴

Vil was at a photo shoot and you were accompanying him, he looked so radiant you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

the photographer told him to take five as he reviewed the photos, vil made his way to you who smiled brightly,

“we should totally make out.. right now..”

vil pinched your cheeks, he could feel your stares and knew you were up to something, “absolutely not. we’re not done here and you’ll ruin my makeup. I know how you get.”

“pleaseee..”

“no.”

“one kiss?”

“no. you can wait after.”

there’s no convincing him when his mind is made up.

°˖➴

“my love, I have a meeting with the director in ten minutes no.” Vil stated as he was touching up, making sure he looked presentable.

you whined at vil saying you guys should make out but of course vil wouldn’t allow it.

“that’s enough time for a couple of kisses…”

vil glared at you through his mirror as to give you a warning to behave but you never listen. you needed to kiss him now.

“fine. just a few. don’t go crazy, I don’t want to test to see if this lipstick is smudge proof.” he finally broke after your constant begging.

he gently took your chin and pulled you in, he kissed you softly, not going too deep or rough to ruin anything.

when vil kisses you like this he’s always so poise, trying to restrain himself from breaking and giving in since he has somewhere to be soon.

“you’re something else my love.”

idia

you break him every time you say it

hairs fully pink

wants to but will NOT make the first move you have to take initiative

awkward make out sessions, he has to warm up before he gets comfortable

only ever in private, he doesn’t leave his room

“we should make out.”

idia.exe has stopped working. crashing out. reboot reboot.

“H-HUHHHH?!”

idia was in a boss fight, so focused on it that it made you smile while you were sitting on his bed watching him play, you didn’t want to bother him since you know how he gets during game but you just had to say what was on your mind.

“y-you’re joking right? is this a prank? where’s the camera?” the tips of his hair is pink as he hides his face, trying to shrink.

“i’m serious idia! we should!”

he still doesn’t believe you, still trying to hide from you but can’t really go anywhere since you’re in his safe haven.

“n-no way! i haven’t even unlocked that yet! we’re only on affinity level 50… making out is totally a level 100 thing…”

he will keep rambling saying this isn’t real, making excuses until you make the first move.

°˖➴

you watched idia work on new equipment for ortho, he was telling you about all the technical stuff and how it will improve ortho which you love when he gets passionate and is willing to talk to you before he gets shy and thinks you don’t care.

“I really think this will improve his speed which could make him go at least-“

“we should make out.”

you watched his hair go from blue to pink in an instant.

he dropped to the floor, hiding himself. “w-what is wrong with you? you can’t just drop that crazy one liner! when did I get into an otome game…”

“maybe when you started dating me.”

“I-I wasn’t ready for that!”

°˖➴

“I can do it… I can do it…” idia is currently hyping himself to kiss you.

you had asked him to make out five minutes ago but he got flustered and is hiding over his sheet. don’t get him wrong, he absolutely wants to make out with you! it’s just hard for him since he’s not use to this, he needs a minute… or two… or five.

“idia, baby, we don’t have to.”

“NO! uh, I-I do I just uhm…” you smiled at him fondly as you removed the sheet over his head, you placed you hand on his cheek before slowly moving in still giving him time to pull away.

“I’m going to kiss you now okay?”

idia appreciates you so much, he nodded, sweating from the proximity as you finally kissed him.

it was slow and gentle. never rushing him, letting him have room to pull away if he wants, but he takes this time to get more comfortable

a few more kisses in, idia is more relaxed as he decided to go deeper and rougher, he needs to take a chance before he regrets it.

when he’s with you he gets a spring of confidence. hes always comfortable with you. you’re his player two, his healer.

malleus

how bold of you to say that to him

will gladly accept no matter where he is

you can text him and he will be at your door as soon as you send it

assertive make out sessions, kisses you like there’s no tomorrow

LOVES it

“we should make ou-“

“I agree.”

you didn’t even get the full sentence out before malleus is already on you gripping your waist.

you couldn’t help but laugh, he’s so lovesick it’s adorable.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, “i’m glad we’re on the same page.”

he’s already savoring your mouth, everytime you share a kiss it leaves you breathless. malleus will always show you how much he loves you, you can feel it through his kisses.

malleus is never an inch away from your face, he sometimes forgets you need to breathe so when you pull away he’s right there following you, waiting to dive back in again.

when you block him to catch your breathe he moves down to your neck and collarbone.

very clingy dragon, once you two start making out he will not let you go anywhere for the rest of the day.

°˖➴

malleus was out at his gargoyle club, you couldn’t join him since you were busy studying. He still called you through to talk about gargoyles, his voice is quite nice to listen to so you didn’t mind.

you’ve been at it nonstop so you took a little break to pay attention to malleus.

he has been going at it, spitting out facts about gargoyles and the history about them.

he’s so passionate you wish you could have joined him so you could see his outfit. the way the wind blows though his hair, you can slightly see his scales on his forehead, oh you miss him.

“we should make out.”

he stopped talking.

*knock knock*

“huh? hold on mal someone’s here.”

it was malleus who still had his phone to his ear at your doorstep.

…

“you are quite the bold one, child of man.”

malleus was visiting late at night like he usually does when you so happen to blurt out about wanting to make out with him

“not many would dare to say that to me.”

“well I would hope not.”

you stated as you pulled him closer by his shirt

“you’re mine and you better only make out with him.”

malleus widened his eyes then let out a real genuine laugh. he absolutely loves how bold you are with him, it shows that you’re not afraid of him and feel comfortable around him.

“I would never be with another. for you will be the only one I spend the rest of my life with, until the end.”

he says into your neck before leaving pecks, trailing his way up to your lips, sucking the air out of your lungs. kissing you like there’s no tomorrow, really showing you that you’re the only one for him.

______๑♡⁠๑______

habibi = my love/beloved (I used google translate I don’t speak arabic)

a/n: THIS IS ASS UGH most of these are the same omg.. idk why riddle was so hard to think of.. writers block or smth.

a/n: whenever I play games n the li does something hot or anything i’m like ‘omggg let’s make out rn’ idk i’ve been playing lads and that one scene where zanye was jealous.. i was like okayy let’s make out RN anyways have a good night/day <3

[whateveriwant]

Good evening, I can't stop thinking about Simon going brain dead as he fucks you :)

Like, just imagine. You're on your elbows and knees as Simon's hitting it from behind, when suddenly you feel something wet land on your back. You know it's not him finishing given the fact that he's still buried deep inside you, so you look back over your shoulder to see what the hell that was you just felt.

And when you turn around, the sight that greets you is one for the ages. There's Simon, eyes unfocused and glazed over, mouth hanging wide open in the most fucked-out expression you've ever witnessed. He looks like he's never had an intelligent thought in his life; like he's been reverted back to a primitive brain, whose only drives are to eat, breathe, and fuck.

As you watch him rut into you like a sex-crazed animal, it's then you spy the source of the mystery liquid dripping onto your back. There, dribbling steadily from Simon's ajar mouth, flows a thick stream of drool. It leads down from his bottom lip in long, viscous ribbons, landing and settling itself along the curve of your spine. If he even notices (which, by the look on his face, he's too far gone for such higher-order thinking processes) then he doesn't care. He just lets his spit pour freely from his open mouth, like some kind of wild beast that's got its eyes locked onto its next meal.

Simon is so mentally checked out that he can't even hear you as you gently say his name. No, all he can think about – all his shriveled little monkey brain can focus on at this moment – is how fucking good you feel around him and how fucking badly he needs to fill you up.

When Simon does finally cum, he can only manage a garbled string of grunts and groans that doesn't even come close to resembling human speech. After three, four, five thrusts as deep into you as possible, his whole body is shaking, and his trembling limbs give out.

He collapses on top of you without a second's consideration of his size, pinning you to the mattress beneath his warm, heavy frame. You can still feel him drooling a little as his face comes to rest in the crook of your neck, the mess on your lower back getting smeared between your bodies.

It's hard for you to breathe being trapped under Simon's weight like that, so you try lightly tapping him on the head to ask him to roll off you. Unfortunately, I'm afraid it's no use trying to gain his attention right now. You're going to have to give him a few minutes to collect himself, love.

The poor guy just fucked himself stupid, after all.

[headspace-hotel]

its possible to grow in your knowledge in a way that is very destructive to what you thought you knew as a writer.

plant blindness is very useful for writers because it allows them to give their settings placelessness. write stories that "could be set anywhere." I used to imagine placeless places. post-apocalyptic wastelands without trees, towns amidst long roads and cornfields.

Now I know that along the paths or in the cracks in the concrete, the weeds are growing. And a weed is an ecosystem, and an ecosystem is a Somewhere, a network of tethers to a land that is rooted in deep time. Plants are a clarification of where and when we are, and what happened, and what people did to the land, and how long ago that was, and whether they are still doing it. Everywhere is land, everywhere has ecology and geology. The omission of the plants in any setting feels like intrusive clouds of amnesia or jarring black bars censoring part of the reality.

I am conscious of the presence of land in my stories. I am conscious that the land is the ultimate progenitor of the characters, plot, and setting. I am aware that there are plants, which make the setting into a Place with a history and ongoing present.

the way I used to write is irretrievable. places are not just scenery, they are narratives of history, destruction, renewal, energy flow and cultural values. The plants are a driving force with their own agency. I can't not write about the plants!

[cursedyuri]

modern!vi who’s down horrendous for you. she gets home from the gym, sweat-damp and sore, ready for a much-needed shower after hitting a new pr and kicking her own ass during her workout. she’s undressing in the foggy bathroom when her phone pings from the counter, your name lighting up the screen. she tosses her shirt to the side and unlocks the phone to see your message.

missing you sooo bad right now, you’ve texted her. attached is a photo of you, shirtless, with your perfectly manicured nails delicately cupping your tits. might have to touch myself… help me out?

vi scoffs at your message, but she clicks on that photo again, zooms in and analyzes it until she’s sure she’s memorized every individual pixel.

fuck, you’re perfect. fuck fuck fuck.

steam from the shower has fogged up the mirror entirely, and it’s deathly humid in the bathroom. but vi’s got a soft spot for you - she’d do anything you asked her to, even if your version of asking is merely suggesting… no, bribing. that photo was definitely a bribe.

vi messes around with a few potential angles, propping her phone up on the counter, then on the floor, even on the back of the toilet. nothing looks right, and she’s so sweaty and frustrated that she almost decides not to send you anything at all. she rips open the shower curtain, huffing an annoyed sigh before her eyes land on the shower head.

huh, that’s an idea.

fifteen minutes later, as you’re lazily dragging your fingers through your cunt, horny and annoyed that vi hasn’t texted you back, you get a notification. it’s a video, you realize with a giddy whir of excitement, and you click play without a second thought. one hand cradling your phone, the other between your thighs, you watch as vi settles the camera down on a shelf by the window. her scarlet locks are damp with sweat, droplets of water from the shower rolling down her inked skin. fuck, you’ll never get used to that body - she’s all lean muscles and sharp edges, so dangerous until she’s holding you with those calloused hands and curling her frame up against yours.

and now? she’s biting her lip, trying to make a show of trailing a hand down her abdomen - she stops short, though, reaching off to the side instead. her hand returns with the running shower head, and you draw in a sharp, excited breath. as if she could hear you, vi lets out a little chuckle and says, “i know, unexpected. i haven’t done this in years.”

she fiddles with the shower head, flicking a switch at the neck until the water flow changes to a more… optimal setting. the stream’s a lot more focused now, more intense.

“worked myself up a bit before this. hope that’s okay, princess.” vi flashes a smirk at the camera, but with her cheeks painted that pretty pink shade, you know she’s a little embarrassed. uncertain.

you’re grateful that the camera angle lets you see every detail of what vi’s doing - how her body moves. she hitches a leg up against the shower wall, just high enough to spread herself open. the soft curls between her legs are untamed and wet, and your cunt twitches at the sight of vi’s pink, pink cunt, spread beautifully - you only get one glance, though, before the silver shower head blocks your view. vi hisses through her teeth and her hips twitch. you sigh, your fingers playing in the wetness between your legs as you watch vi toss her head back in pleasure. every moan that passes her lips goes straight to your clit - you’re needy, gushing wetter every time you see vi’s tits bounce or her jaw clench.

“fuuuuck,” she cries out, her face a vision of pleasure. mouth hung open, brows knitted together, eyes foggy with lust. “gonna come, shit, baby…”

water drips from vi’s hair down to her shoulders, rolling in beads down her tense chest. she’s heaving, panting, gasping your name as her orgasm slams into her, tatted biceps flexing as she forces the shower head to stay in place. her orgasm seems to last forever, streams of water gushing from her pussy down to the shower floor - and then she’s done, spent.

it’s almost like vi forgets about the camera for a moment. she hums in pleasure, still panting a bit as she comes back down from her high. she licks her lips, then her eyes meet the camera - and oh, she looks wrecked.

“hope that’s enough material for you, pretty girl,” she says to the camera, winking playfully before the video cuts out.

[leclerc-hs]

Have you seen the TikTok edit of the helmet video with Lando and Oscar?!?! If not look it up!!

AND if you wanted to write a helmet smut fic that would be sooo HOT, please!!!!

safety first - ln4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary: in which you always had a thing for lando in his helmet OR lando fucks you with his helmet on... warnings: smut smut smut!, helmet kink, dirty talk, language, literally just pure smut, face fucking, degradation....NOT PROOFREAD (might be typos or things that don't make sense bc I don't like re-reading things I write lol) word count: ~1.7k author's note: okay so posting this way earlier than I thought!!! idk if I'm crazy but I'm able to write smut so fast HAHA it just flows nicely for me (blushes like a slut)...anyways hope you guys like this!!! xoxo ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

You’re already naked.

Face pressed into the mattress, drooling into the sheets. While he kneels behind you. Slowly stroking his cock, that’s glistening with the slick he already teased out of you.

“You’re fuckin’ pathetic for this, y’know that?” His voice comes through the helmet all muffled. Filthy.

And it makes your legs shake.

“Y’see me in this and just lose every fuckin’ braincell in your head, yeah?”

You whimper, trying to lift yourself onto your elbows. But he slaps your ass. Hard. 

“Don’t move.” He grunts. “Not until I tell you to.”

You whimper into the sheet. Clenching around nothing.

“You wanna be treated like a slut for my helmet?” He laughs. “Fine. I’ll fuck you like one.”

And then he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, barely. Before pulling away.

“Soaking,” He chuckles. “Actually fuckin’ dripping onto the bed. All because of this stupid helmet.”

And your hips twitch back. Desperate for touch. Desperate for him.

But he doesn’t give it to you.

“No, no.” He holds your hips. “I want you to beg for it. C’mon.”

You groan. Face hot. “Please…please, fuck. Please give it to me…”

“Give you what?”

He drags the tip of his cock along your entrance again, teasing your clit just enough to make your body jolt.

“Your cock..fuck, Lan…please.”

“Not good enough.” His voice is low. Mean.

And your voice breaks. “I…I need your cock, Lan. Need it in me…while you wear that helmet. Please…please, fuck me.”

And then he’s finally thrusting into you. Deep.

You cry out. 

And he groans. Low. Hands gripping you harshly. Pressing into your skin like you’ll wither away if he doesn’t.

“Fuckin’ knew it.” He pants. “Knew this pussy would swallow me the second I put this on.”

You’re shaking. Moaning into the sheets because it’s too much. 

And he moves slower. Cruel. 

And still fucking talking.

“Didn't even have to touch you properly.”

You sob into the mattress. Soaked. Can feel it dripping down your thighs. Can hear it every time he slips in and out.

“Fuckin’ cockdumb already, yeah?” He laughs. “Barely even started.”

You try to lift your hips and grind against him. But his hand lands sharply against your ass again.

“No. You stay right there.” He demands. “Wanna act like a groupie, hm? Then you’ll get used like one.”

And then he’s fucking into you harder. Steady thrusts that leave you gasping.

“Should see yourself right now,” He pants. “Takin’ it soooo good, baby. Spread out and stuffed, full of me.” 

You try to speak. But all that comes out is a soft moan.

“Can’t talk?” He hugs. “What happened to all the whining earlier, baby?”

He leans in closer. Hand dragging up your spine, before resting on the back of your neck. Visor brushing against your skin in the process.

“Fuckin’ tell me you love this. Loved being ruined by me with my helmet on.”

“I…fuck,” His hips move deeper. “I love it.” And your voice is cracking.

“No. Say it right.”

You moan. “I love your helmet. Love being fucked with it on.”

And you scream when he slams in harder. Cock pulsing in you.

And he stays there. Balls deep. Holding. Letting you twitch around him.

And then he pulls out slowly. 

“Flip over.”

You’re dizzy. Breathless. Dazed. Moving too slow for him.

And he loses his patience. Pushing you over before grabbing you at your thighs. Yanking you to the edge of the bed. Your legs dangling, wide open.

And he’s looking down at you. Helmet on. Visor down.

And he groans. Head tilted.

“Look at you.” His hand rubs against the tip of his cock. Neck flushed red. Veiny. “So fuckin’ wet. Leaking down your thighs.”

He brings one hand down. Slips his fingers through your folds, and drags your slick. Smearing it over your clit with deliberate circles.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ mess.” He breathes.

You gasp. Arch.

“Turns you on, doesn’t it?” He laughs. “Knowin’ that I can’t even spit on you with this on…so I’ll use your own mess instead. Rub it all over you. Let you fuck yourself on it.”

And then he’s shoving two fingers in.

You cry out. He curls them inside you, fucking you slow.

“Could make you come again, yeah?” He huffs. “On my fingers. Just like this?”

And you do. 

Grinding against his hand like you can’t stop. Desperate.

“That’s it,” He groans. “Be a good little slut and fuck yourself on my hand.”

He jerks himself with his other hand, watching you.

And then when your eyes roll back he pulls his fingers out.

“Nu uh.” He grunts. “On your knees.”

You drop to your knees before he even finishes speaking. Hands scrambling to steady yourself, face flushed. Mouth open. Drooling.

And he’s looking down at you.

“That’s it…” He huffs. 

Fists his cock once. Slow. Just enough to tease himself. And he’s still wet with your slick. Still hard. Red and twitching.

Presses the tip to your tongue.

“You wanted this, yeah?” He grunts. “Said you wanted me to keep it on one day. So be useful with it.”

You moan as he pushes himself into your mouth. Lips wrapping around him and sucking him. Greedy. 

But the second you begin to move your head…to bob your head.

He stops you.

One hand reaching for the back of your neck. Gripping it tight.

“No. You don’t set the pace here.” He squeezes a little harder. “I do.”

And then he’s thrusting his hips.

Shoving himself into your mouth. Into your throat.

And you choke immediately. Spit slipping from the corners of your lips, eyes watering as he holds you in place. His cock twitching against your tongue.

“Look at that,” He pants, head tilted. “Cryin already and I’ve barely fucked your throat.”

He pulls out. 

And you gasp. Cough a little bit.

“Yeah, that’s it. Open up again.”

You do. Tongue out. Eyes watery.

And this time he fucks you with it.

No warning. Just one hand at the back of your neck, hair weaved through his fingers in a tight grip. The other on your jaw as he fucks himself into your mouth.

Your nose presses against his pelvis and the room echoes with the sounds of his moans and the choking sounds of your gags.

“So fuckin’ good f’me…” His head falls back. Neck veiny. 

He only lets go when you start to shake. Pulling himself out with a pop and long string of spit falling from your mouth.

You gasp. Moan. Cough.

And then he thrusts in again. Harder. Messier.

Your throat squeezes him every time he buries himself in. Spit leaking down to your chest. Tears on your cheeks.

And all you can see when you look up is the black visor.

Your own reflection staring back at you.

“Fuck…just like that..don’t stop. Fuck fuck…oh my…”

And then he groans. Loud. Muffled by the helmet.

And you feel him pulse. Hot. 

Pouring into your throat as you swallow around him.

And you’re still trembling when he pulls you back onto the bed. Barely able to catch a breath.

He’s laying flat on his back now. Helmet still on. One hand stroking his cock slowly. 

You climb over him. Aching. Straddle him with a shaky breath. Hands braced on his chest.

And for a moment you pause. Just to look at him.

The helmet. Impossible to ignore.

Neon chaos.

Jet black visor. Gloss finish. 

And somewhere in that curved reflection, you see yourself. Flushed.

And it makes you clench. Eyes widen as you stare at the helmet like it owns you.

And it does.

Because it’s him.

Lando. Neon. Reckless. Buried under that color, under you….

“Yeah,” he pants, a smirk hidden behind his helmet. “Y’like seeing yourself like that, don’t you?”

You reach down and line him up. Both of you groaning as you sink down. Until your ass is flush against him.

You both breathe for a moment. And then you begin moving.

But his hands are on you immediately, gripping you tight as you roll your hips and grind down. Fucking yourself onto him.

“You’re unreal,” He pants. “Fuckin glowing.”

You bounce harder. Sloppier. Hands on his chest as you fall onto his cock over and over. Moaning.

And then he’s speaking softer. Wrecked.

“Need to kiss you.”

And the words hit you like a punch. 

You gasp. Hips stuttering.

“I need it,” He says again. “Can’t…fuck..can’t breathe right in this fucking thing. Can’t even fuckin taste you.”

And then he’s sitting up rapidly, chest pressed to you. His helmet nearly hitting your face.

You clutch his shoulders. Whimpering.

And he’s grunting. Struggling with the strap, hands fumbling until the helmet finally loosens. And he yanks it off.

And then he looks at you.

Flushed pink, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead. His cheeks are red and blotchy. Lips parted from panting. His jaw is flexing like he’s trying to keep himself together, but his eyes. His eyes are wild. Dark.

He looks wrecked.

Looking at you like he’s been tortured from not being able to kiss you. And his mouth is so pink, so swollen that it makes you clench around him.

And then he’s grabbing your jaw and kissing you. All tongue and teeth. Hands grabbing your ass, pushing you down onto his cock even deeper. 

And he groans deep into your mouth. 

“Could fuck you forever,” He’s panting. “But need your mouth. Always.”

You moan into every kiss. Body trembling against him. Riding him with a frantic desperation.

“M’gonna…fuck…gonna come again.” You whisper.

“Good,” He breathes against you. “Wanna feel it.”

And you do.

You sob against his mouth. Clenching around him. Soaking him. 

“Wanna come inside you,” He gasps. “Please, baby…please let me come in this…”

You nod.

And he spills into you with a groan so loud that it makes your stomach twist.

Your bodies melt together. And for the first time all night, it’s silent.

Until he's tucking a stand of hair behind your ear.

“Y’let me do all that with the helmet on,” His thumb brushes against your lips. “But it’s this mouth….this fuckin mouth…that’ll be the death of me.”

taglist: @olivia-zaq @halloways @annaswrites00 @asmoothoperator @zicosbitch @tabisswag @mrssainzpiastri @sensitivesoulmate @oh-kurva @landohoney @dontsupressthejess @hannainchains @lavendershrike @kashewsversion @livsturnioloo @dustie-faerie @sunsetsimsblog @colapintoradio @jaspimirandera @whistleforthech0ir @killjoynotes @forumlabee @feraviiii @olivialup @ptrickbateman @astrlape @cendrineee @butterfly-daisies07 @vanteel @gabotomo (i think thats everyone!! sorry if I missed someone xoxo)

[humanjarvis]

on the fleet’s busiest days, caleb brings his work home with him.

as the sun sets, your heart aches at the thought of him barely getting a moment to relax. but the less considerate part of you can’t help but seek his attention. 

in the golden lamplight, he’s slouching on the sofa, halfheartedly flipping through a stack of mission reports. freshly showered and draped in your nightgown, you slink into the living room and take a seat next to him, tucking your head into his neck. 

he knows you’re up to something, but you’re a welcome distraction. so he lets it happen without a word, shifting his body to ease the strain on your neck. the new position makes his muscles burn, but he doesn’t complain. 

“how much longer?” you mumble sleepily.

he pats your head in reassurance. “almost done.”

but you know he isn’t.

running your fingers up and down his arm veins, you hum in feigned acceptance. but after a few moments, your head droops to the side, landing perfectly in caleb’s lap. 

he tenses, but says nothing. 

“can’t you read a little faster? i miss you,” you whine, and the sweet vibrations of your voice flow right to the center of his sweatpants.

before long, a bulge grows. and you stay right where you are. 

you sigh in his lap, nuzzling into his straining cock as you languidly paw at his drawstring. 

your cheek rubs against him with sinful friction, and his composure crumbles. from his mouth slips a startled little noise, and as you glance up at him, his adam’s apple bobs. 

when he catches you looking, he clears his throat. “you can’t be comfortable like that,” he says shakily, lust clouding the pleading look in his eyes. “why don’t you lie on my shoulder instead?” 

at the suggestion, you only pout and nuzzle further into him. he shudders as your nose grazes his swollen tip, but if you’re happy where you are, he won’t disturb you. with decimated focus and a bright pink blush, he finishes his analysis, growing harder and harder beneath you. 

[iloveglomp]

You're Huge

You’re huge. I mean, you were always a little on the chubbier side, but now, you’re absolutely massive. Your belly hangs lower every day, slowly piling down your legs, covering your fupa, and pushing outward. Those once chunky, adorable legs of yours are covered in cellulite and wider than my waist, rolls and stretch marks all over your juicy thick lower belly and ballooning heart shaped ass leading to those meaty, overflowing love handles I love to grab while fucking you. You’ll probably end up immobile, but you and I wouldn’t want it any other way…

When I first met you, you were a short barista at my local coffee house, your messy, deep red hair folded into a bun, and your soft brown eyes twinkling with attraction behind those nerdy glasses you had on. I left you a tip with my number written on it, and you pocketed the cash, messaging me later that day. I never thought that would work, and landing such a good-looking girl like you was beyond luck. We were meant to be, and I would make sure to enjoy every ounce of you. We texted back and forth constantly, flirting and feeling out who we really were. We hit it off over the phone, and I planned a date for us, just a picnic and some snacks in the park. The weather was wonderful, so why not? I met you in the parking lot, your red hair flowing behind you as your beautifully red lips formed an adorable smile. I brought you flowers and champagne, and you got a picnic basket full of sweets and salty snacks, your favorite. I lay out the blanket and pop us the champagne, you set up the snacks, and take a seat next to me. Your slightly chubby thighs wobble as you bounce your legs nervously about our date, but I can tell you’re into me. I soak in every detail about you now that we’re so close.. Your dimples when you smile, the way your teeth have the slightest gap in the middle, your golden septum piercing, always slightly crooked. I admire how your body fills out for such a low weight, probably around 140lbs at 5’0”, short but thick, and I’m into it. Your backside and legs curve beautifully, leading to a hint of a belly and a more slender upper body with small B-cups. You have a tattoo of a bumble bee on your right shoulder with a sleeve of wild flowers underneath it, which looks cute on you, fitting your aesthetic nicely. As we talk and drink more champagne, I can tell you’re a lightweight as you get touchier and giggle often, showcasing your bubbly personality and tendency for playful banter. As the sun sets, our conversation grows more intimate, and I steal a kiss. You melt into my arms as we fall deeper into each other's embrace. The spark lit between us was strong and fiery, I knew I would be seeing way more of you in more than one way soon enough. 

We went on several more dates, always centered around lounging about and snacking or going to dinner and a movie. You would overindulge, then lie back in the theatre chair, resting your belly as you zoned out. You were never physically active, and it was already having its side effects. I started picking you up from work, taking you on surprise dates, and going out to eat with you more often than not. You loved the attention and couldn’t get enough food and drinks when we went out, the alcohol causing you to overeat late into the night. I had you falling head over heels after a few more weeks of romantic outings. I decided it was time to ask you out, so I booked us at an especially nice restaurant, telling you to wear your best dress. When I picked you up, I walked to your studio apartment door, but you opened it before I could even knock. I was in awe of your looks that night, your dress clung so tightly to your slowly expanding frame. Every detail of how much weight you had put on was showing in all the right places. Your thighs and ass tight against the fabric as your pooch stuck out noticeably. Even your boobs were looking extra swollen as your arms and shoulders appeared softer and less defined. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you and your infectious smile. Everything about that night was perfect; we had a large dinner, with you ordering steak and lobster, mashed potatoes, risotto, and scallops. It was way more than you could eat, but I let you try to at the very least, encouraging you to take bite after bite as I fed you more. We can’t afford to come here all the time, so make sure you get your fill, baby. I would top off your glass of wine and watch as you forced another bite down your throat. By the end of our date, you were packed to the brim, drunk, and ecstatic that I asked you to be my girlfriend. I took you home, and you pulled me into your bedroom, itching to get out of that tight dress that once fit so comfortably. You unbuttoned my shirt and practically ripped my pants off ravenously, hungry for a treat only I could give you. My muscular frame towered over you as I took my strong arms and peeled the delicate dress off of you. Your stomach was so full and tender, I could tell I needed to be gentle with you because of how much you ate. You lay down, letting out a huge sigh of relief as you lock eyes with me, begging for something more. I grab your juicy legs and pull you to the edge of the bed, resting them on my shoulders and I grab my pulsing, girthy dick and begin to tease you with it. Rubbing it around your clit and slowly entering and exiting just the beginning of your hole. You beg me for more, telling me you want to be filled to the max as your tight gut and growing tits sway back and forth from my hips bumping into you. I slowly insert myself all the way to the end of my shaft, your eyes closing as you let out a sharp moan and cry in pleasure. Your warm thighs and soft ass slap against my strong core as I thrust in and out of you methodically, gentle but intense. As I near climax, you tighten around my shaft, begging me to release my seed inside of you. I cum hard, emptying my load as I grab your meaty thighs and stare at the tight drum of a belly that turns me on so much. I couldn’t wait to fatten you up into my prized piggy. 

You’re finally six hundred pounds, you’ve been so good for me, piggy. You’re so complacent, so enthusiastic about your gain. You can’t slow down, even on days you’re sleeping more than eating, the number continues to climb. You’re permanently filled with calories your body struggles to metabolize and store somewhere on your massively overgrown body. Your huge stomach is now three rolls, each heavier and flabbier than the last. I can’t even lift it up without using equipment. Your tits are so huge, round and swollen. They weigh so heavily on you, I know it’s getting harder to breathe under all this luscious fat you have piled on. You make noises like a good little piggy, too. A squeal for pleasure or a whine for attention. I make sure you get whatever you want; you deserve it for being so good to me. We can only have sex in doggy now, your huge gut won’t allow it any other way, and you get too hungry to stop eating during sex. You get lifted up, propped on pillows and eat your fill of rich calorie dense foods as I take you from behind, pulling that huge jiggly mountain of an ass you grew for me apart as I insert myself into you, throbbing and ravenous to feel you. It’s so warm and jaw-droppingly wet, the weight of your body making it so tight and pleasurable. You love it when I tease you for being so huge. Even if I just tell you how fag you are and how much of an immobile obese cow you are you go wild with lust. You probably orgasm multiple times a day, even from the slightest hint of pleasure. I can tell when your breath quickens and you squirm and writhe, begging me for release, you rely on me for everything now, and I wouldn’t want it any other way for my beautiful goddess and her hundreds of pounds of fat engulfing her. 

When you hit seven hundred pounds, your poor body struggling to keep up with your voracious appetite, you’ve become a truly transformed woman. You were just a huge, dumb cow now. You barely spoke besides simple demands. Food, sex, bathroom, TV, etc. You loved being such an obedient, helpless blob. Every calorie you consumed you knew would make us both happy, so you shoveled them down relentlessly, eager for more pleasure and soft fat to admire. You could barely move at all. Propped up on pillows and pampered 24/7 as you grew to larger sizes. I had you naked now, clothes were no use. Cleaned and lotioned, baby powder and scented oils rubbed all over you as you enjoyed your fluffy body and how it jiggled and quaked at every touch. You could barely use your arms at all; they were too heavy and caused you to struggle so much, leaving you breathless and sweating after a few minutes. I hand-fed you now, encouraging and enabling you to continue ballooning up for me. You obeyed and opened wide, happy for another delicious bite of fat, greasy food to go down your throat. I installed a mirror over the bed so you could see how you continued to swell up. You didn’t know who you were anymore; all you could see was rolls of flesh and piles of lard flowing out in every direction. Everything was so massive and soft, so heavy and jiggly. You wanted more, your appetite insatiable. You wanted to be at least 1,000 lbs before your arteries finally clogged and you gave out. I think we can make it work, probably get you even bigger than that, don’t you think, piggy? Will you be a good girl for me and take another bite? 

[magnusmodig]

╰┈➤ VI TALKS ABOUT THOR/MCU / anon / no longer accepting !

🔥 ( Thor and his relationship with Frigga )

||. Oh, man, Thor/Frigga is an interesting topic - because I feel the thor/mcu fandom tends to really characterize her one of two ways, and both are right and both are wrong.

The FIRST WAY is that "Frigga is a saint who can do no wrong, absolutely adores both of her boys and is the perfect mother" and... while I think that Frigga is certainly a perfectly loving and caring mother (and person tbh.) she very clearly had her FAVORITE son. There's a huge element of neglect towards Thor that goes overlooked in this take that I don't agree with, even if I don't subscribe to the idea that Frigga was purposefully neglectful, either.

....Which happens to be the SECOND WAY that the fandom (mostly the mcu!loki fandom, as usual) mischaracterizes Frigga, and by proxy Thor/Frigga's bond as well. In this take, they make Frigga's favoritism and doting over Loki go too far. To the point where she's passive-aggressive and borderline toxic, just because Thor isn't her precious uwu frost-baby. I am a FIRM believer that even if Loki was her favored son to hang out with, Frigga still didn't love Thor any less. It's just a very complex relationship, overall.

My personal take on Frigga is as follows:

Ultimately: Thor is her son! Her only child! And so is Loki, and I think she loved them BOTH so dearly. At the end of the day though, Thor has to spend his time with the other aesir in the family, and that's not Frigga, it's Odin. Not only that, but Frigga has more in common with Loki, so they have more to talk about in 1:1 moments together. What I think this led to was an unfortunate cycle in which she spent so much energy doting over Loki, making sure he felt seen/heard and had "some sun for himself" that she COMPLETELY neglected to see that her other son was in just as much pain as the youngest was; that while Loki is the underdog, Thor still needed his mother, and DID NOT have it all together. She was completely fooled by Thor's façade just like everyone else. And only realized how estranged they had become when it was too late, and she couldn't reach Thor anymore. (She also died before she could make it right.)

To further explain these two opposing takes, the first characterization comes (presumably) from the following:

Frigga being a very wise and clearly empathetic individual. The "glue" that keeps the family together. (a general observation due to how she interacts with her family. specifically: "[Odin] kept the truth [about you being a frost giant] from you so that you would never feel different. You are our son, Loki, and we your family. You must know that." thor (2011), and immediately accepting jane as her daughter-in-law in Thor: Dark World comes to mind. )

Frigga arguing with Odin about Thor's banishment (deleted scene.)

Frigga (attempting) to assuage Thor's anxiety pre!coronation (deleted scene)

I think this particular take is relatively accurate in characterizing Frigga's motherly nature, yes. But what it neglects to keep in mind is that:

Frigga was complicit in the lie of Loki's heritage. Her line about "Odin" not wanting Loki to feel different can also be read as her using Odin as a bit of straw-man for her own feelings. (@mischiefmodig and I have actually come to the conclusion "not wanting loki to feel different" was originally HER idea when Loki was very small. Odin is too pragmatic to come up with it. BUT when he got older, Frigga changed her mind, and Odin didn't want to tell Loki at that point because it'd cause a meltdown. Which it did.)

Frigga arguing for Thor's sake post!banishment was NOT done while Thor was aware of this development. HE IS NOT AWARE THAT THIS HAPPENED. From his perspective, she never fought for him, and more importantly: even if he did find out AFTER the fact, during his banishment, THOR DIDN'T EXPECT HER TO. In fact, Thor accepts that Frigga disowned him the second Loki lies to his face about that detail in THOR. (Re: "Mother has forbidden your return.") It makes no sense for Thor to believe this so immediately if they were close. (he WAS close to Loki, who he trusts implicitly, especially because he's family.)

While Frigga does attempt to assuage Thor's anxiety before the coronation, the key word here is ATTEMPT. She doesn't succeed. It's actually staggering how badly she misses the mark, and he continues to be largely unfocused and anxious about it. Even though Loki's scene with Thor happened before Frigga's, it was Loki who was able to say what needed to be said to calm Thor down where Frigga couldn't. ("You're my brother, and my friend [...] never doubt that I love you." / T: "How do I look?" L: "Like a king.")

The second take comes from a very loud and large portion of the loki!fandom in particular who absolutely despises Thor as a character and prefer Loki in every way. To the point where, I suppose, Thor is "an abusive brother"... Which makes no sense. It's ultimately a lot of projection. HOWEVER, I can't say it's entirely inaccurate to the favoritism displayed either. Some things I can say Frigga messed up on are as follows:

The official marvel comic (taking place between thor 2011 and avengers) in which Frigga endlessly searches for Loki and refuses to believe he's dead instead of mourning his loss with her husband and son. (Which is saying a lot, given that Thor and Odin both saw Loki attempt suicide by letting go into a black hole.) While she was right in the end, this is ... really negligent at the end of the day. (it puts SUCH a bad taste in my mouth that I refuse to consider it canon since it's not the movie's material anyways. I do think she searched for Loki, but more that she was searching for his body so they could have SOMETHING to bury.)

This scene of Frigga telling Thor that "[he] and your father cast large shadows"... Which is true and not necessarily a bad thing to say, but the line that preceded this was ultimately Thor just asking Frigga if she regrets teaching Loki her magic because of all the trouble (and war crimes) he’s committed with it…. And her answer was no —> proceeds to remind thor that he overshadowed Loki. (I don't think he took that personally or was bothered by it, but the answer isn't exactly well-timed or considerate of ... everything.)

TL;DR: Thor and Frigga aren't close. They're "close enough", but the fact that he doesn't shed tears at her funeral, (he weeps for loki THREE TIMES and is utterly enraged by Odin's death. Hers is the ONLY death thor is witness to where he does not actively react to at all.), speaks of her as if he's speaking highly of a well-esteemed stranger, has no reaction to her attempts to meet his emotional needs, responds minimally to her physical affections (mostly talking about body language, he's very stiff with her in a safe environment vs. a battle environment, as shown respectively), actively shuts her out in a time of mourning (she has to ask sif how her OWN SON is doing post!loki's death), and fully believed that she would not have fought for his right to return home —and in fact, FORBADE IT — with no questioning shows me as much, even if they do have some very soft moments together.

[solarstranger]

a/n. based on the prompt "i want to go home to my wife” courtesy of @/creativepromptsforwriting (very bkg-coded, i know.) (0.7k)

it’s probably by the tenth sigh of the night—not that anyone’s counting—that poor kaminari finally snaps.

“seriously, dude?”

bakugou, who’s seated across from him with kirishima and sero adjacent to the both of them, only lazily raises an eyebrow in question.

at that, the electric hero pouts. “at least try to pretend you’re having fun.”

a few feet ahead of them—the men collectively chose to be seated at the back of the small dive bar despite kaminari’s protests—the stand-up comedian currently doing a set cracks another joke. an undercurrent of laughter flows across the room, but none of the four contribute to that.

“sorry, denki,” sero starts, a not-so-apologetic expression plastered on his face. “i’m with bakugou on this one.”

the slim, ebony-haired man glances at the stage, “the jokes aren’t landing for me either.”

“aww, come on, you guys!” kirishima, the ever-unfailing saint that he is, pipes up with a borderline overcompensating grin. “let’s just stay for a while longer for denki, alright?”

sero shrugs in response, but turns in his seat toward the stage anyway. bakugou, on the other hand, only grumbles before reaching for his phone in his right pocket.

thumbing his password under the table, his fingers click on the messages app, then to his number one favorite contact.

for a second, he debates whether or not to shoot you a text. you were so excited to finally get started on that anime you’ve been meaning to watch, that you almost seemed like you didn’t care that he was leaving you home for the night to hang out with the guys.

biting on his lip, he absentmindedly goes through your last exchange before finally deciding fuck it.

while typing out a well-crafted message, his eyes dart between his screen to his friends then back down again, trying to seem inconspicuous.

the last thing he needs is for the bored tape hero to tease him with that annoying ass shit-eating grin of his.

reading through it one last time, bakugou finally presses the send button.

much to his delight, it doesn’t even take you a minute to reply.

(8:43 PM) baby 🧡: heey! i’m still watching—am on episode 5 now. hbu? aren’t you busy with the boys?

the smile he wasn’t aware he’s been sporting immediately drops when he’s reminded of the predicament he’s in. peering back up at the front, he has to fight the groan that threatens to bubble from his mouth when another performer goes up.

oh, well. at least you’re texting him right now.

he quickly types out his response.

(8:45 PM) me: Busy being fucking tortured. This is the worst night ever.

“yo, bro, who got you smiling like that?”

bakugou whips to glare at the culprit, who’s now wearing the very same shit-eating grin he’s just been thinking about avoiding a few moments ago.

pocketing his phone, bakugou snarls at the man. “shut the fuck up. all that doom-scrolling is rotting your fucking brain.”

“i think you getting the reference says something about you, too, bakubro,” kirishima offers from beside him.

bakugou shoots the redhead a menacing scowl, which the unbreakable hero accepts in stride.

“are you guys even listening?” comes kaminari’s whine.

“sorry, denks,” sero replies, before turning to regard the rest of the group. “i thought we agreed to stop doing these guys’ night outs? none of us are as good at planning get-togethers as mina.”

at that slightest bit of opening, bakugou takes the opportunity and moves to stand up, grabbing his wallet and car keys before inserting them in his back pocket, surprising the three men.

before any of them can say a single word, though, bakugou tries to shrug nonchalantly, muttering his simple explanation.

“what was that?” came sero’s teasing tone.

“i want to go home to my wife, idiot,” bakugou barks before he can stop himself.

at that, kaminari finally throws his hands up in defeat.

kirishima only shrugs himself, “that clicks.”

while the menace snickers. “simp.”

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don't do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

[multific]

The Gentle Heart of Rome

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: Geta's wife is overwhelmed by the violence of the Colosseum, but your sensitivity only deepens his love for you.

The sun hung high above the Colosseum, casting golden light across the sand-soaked floor of the arena. The crowd was roaring, nobles and commoners alike standing on their feet as blood stained the earth below.

Gladiators fought with savage precision, swords clashing, screams echoing across the stone walls.

But amidst the chaos and brutality, there was one figure that did not belong.

You.

You sat beside your husband, Emperor Geta, dressed in flowing silks the colour of rosewater, your eyes wide and trembling behind the delicate veil you wore.

The scent of iron was thick in the air, and though Geta sat straight and proud, enjoying every second of the spectacle with his brother Caracalla on the other side, you could barely breathe.

You turned your face, eyes squeezed shut as a scream pierced the air, followed by the sickening sound of metal sinking into flesh.

The crowd cheered louder.

“Love,” Geta leaned in, his voice gentle, though tinged with confusion. “You are not watching.”

You couldn’t look at him. “I’m sorry… I thought I could, but-”

Another cry.

Another flash of blood.

You felt your stomach churn.

Geta’s smile faltered. “You are unwell.”

“I can’t… I can’t bear it,” you whispered, voice quivering. “There’s so much blood, and they’re hurting each other."

Caracalla laughed from beside Geta. “She’s soft, brother. Doesn’t have the Roman stomach.”

You flinched, heart pounding.

You didn’t belong here. You never had.

You weren’t a woman of war or vengeance.

You loved flowers and quiet mornings, and Geta’s soft hands when they weren’t calloused by sword hilts.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you murmured. “Forgive me.”

Geta’s expression changed then.

The pride and amusement faded from his face, and something more tender replaced it.

He looked at you, not as a disappointed husband or a stern ruler, but as a man who loved a woman too delicate for this brutal world.

Without another word, he stood.

“Brother?” Caracalla asked, raising a brow.

“I’ve seen enough for today,” Geta said, offering his hand to you.

You hesitated, eyes flickering toward him. “But… it’s not over.”

“I don’t care,” he said softly. “Come. Let’s go home.”

You rose with him, unsure, and followed quietly through the stone corridors until the roar of the crowd became a distant hum.

When you were finally alone, back in the quiet of your garden within the palace walls, Geta sat you down gently on the marble bench beneath the olive tree.

He knelt before you, a hand on your knee. “I didn’t know it would upset you like that.”

“I know you love the games,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”

“Disappointment?” he echoed, frowning. “You think your soft heart is something to be ashamed of?”

You looked down. “It’s not fit for an emperor’s wife.”

Geta reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek. “It’s exactly what I need. Do you think I wish to come home to more blood and fire?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You are my peace. My gentleness. My reason not to become like him.”

You knew who he meant, his brother.

Caracalla, who thrived on carnage. Who bathed in it.

“You could have any woman,” you said. “Someone brave. Fierce.”

“I don’t want brave,” he said, lifting your hand to his lips. “I want you. The way you gasp when butterflies land on your fingertips. The way you cry when you read poetry. The way you hate to even see a bird wounded.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the clarity in his voice.

“You keep me from losing myself,” he said. “Don’t you see? If I forget what it means to be gentle… I’ll become a monster.”

You threw your arms around him then, burying your face in his shoulder. His arms came around you instantly, warm and solid, his hands stroking your back with comforting tenderness.

“I love you,” you said against his skin.

“I know,” he whispered. “And I love you, my gentle Empress.”

Later, as the sun dipped into dusk and the air turned cool, Geta led you through the gardens, your fingers laced in his.

No crowds. No violence.

Just the sound of birds and the rustle of leaves.

And that night, he held you tightly in bed, his breath at your temple.

“I won’t make you go again,” he murmured. “Not ever.”

You smiled into his chest. “Thank you.”

He kissed your hair, pulling you closer. “I’d rather lose the crowd than lose you.”

And from that day on, though he ruled Rome with strength, the people said Geta had grown softer.

They didn’t know the reason was love.

.

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or how reader made a friend in the most unconventional way.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another,, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ NOW A SERIES! i hope you guys like this! i'm considering making this into a series; if i do, i think i'd do it the same way this fic is, aka some narration but mostly 'chatting' between rafe and reader. anyway, let me know if you want it to continue!! i've been feeling down for a few weeks now, so something simple and fun like this was a good way to get back into the flow of writing.

i thought about making this a smau, but doing the chats like this feels more authentic to the 2000s chatroom experience y’know

you were sitting on your bed, your laptop open on a website called KildareUChats, a website that was apparently meant for the students of your university to be able to anonymously chat with other students, your friend having told you to give it a try, knowing that it’d be difficult for you to do in person.

you didn't really see the point of it; although your social circle was in no way huge, you were happy enough with it, really. never having been great with new people, you'd made three friends on your freshman year of college and simply stuck to them. it didn't help that whenever you tried to talk to someone new, it felt like someone was choking you.

but this was online. the person on the other side would never know who you are, and you'd never have to actually be face-to-face with them. your cursor moved to hover over the 'REGISTER' button, and you filled the page out with your basic information, name, school email, birth date... but when the website asked for a username, you couldn't help but purse your lips as you looked around your dorm room, from the fairy lights you'd hung up on walls that now glowed in a yellowish hue, to the several books stacked on the floor, to the dead roses on your desk...

but when your eyes landed on your nightstand, you spotted a book of poems by edgar allan poe, and your lips quirked up into a small smile. after you typed the name 'AnnabelLee' into the username field, a green check mark appeared next to it to signify it was available.

after setting a password, you were redirected to a page that said 'WELCOME TO KILDAREUCHATS AnnabelLee! CLICK HERE IF YOU WISH TO CONNECT WITH A RANDOM STRANGER!'. you clicked the button, your cursor turning into a circle for a moment as it loaded, before you were redirected to a chatroom with a pop-up.

KILDAREUCHATS IS CONNECTING YOU TO A STRANGER...

KILDAREUCHATS HAS CONNECTED YOU! REMEMBER TO TREAT OTHERS THE WAY YOU WANT TO BE TREATED <3 SAY HI!

you stared at your computer screen, biting into your lower lip. you had no idea what you were supposed to say; outside of the people you already knew, you were helpless when talking to people, the words always getting stuck in your throat, or vanishing from your mind. angel's white fur blended in with your white sheets as your hand moved to absentmindedly stroke her, the little cat purring in her sleep. but before your hand could dart out to type something on your laptop, a message appeared on the screen.

STRANGER: heyy

taking in a deep breath, you shook your head, as if shaking all doubts and worries out of it. the site was anonymous; that was the whole point. and your therapist told you, that for your social anxiety to get better, you should try go socialize. mingle. you took the bottle of cheap white wine you'd snuck into your dorm, taking a large swig straight out of the bottle before setting it back down, your hands flying to your keyboard.

YOU: hi :)

STRANGER: wsp?

YOU: ...wasp?

STRANGER: lmao no... what's up?

YOU: sorry, i'm not good with that kind of lingo haha. YOU: nothing much. i'm hanging out with my cat.

STRANGER: damn, do you have an off-campus apartment or something?

YOU: nope :) YOU: don't tell my ra.

STRANGER: shit you have a CAT in your dorm?

YOU: if you tell on me, i'm gonna have to hunt you down and kill you.

STRANGER: lucky for you this is anonymous STRANGER: and i'm not a snitch lmao STRANGER: so, what are you doing on this thing at 12am on a friday night? no hot parties?

YOU: honestly, i think i'd rather put a noose around my neck than go to a party. YOU: i'm just in my room drinking wine. decided to try this site after my friend suggested it. YOU: what about you?

STRANGER: damn, kinky STRANGER: i do have a 'hot party' to go to but i also have an essay due in nine hours and the prof already hates my ass

YOU: so you decided to not write your essay and instead procrastinate by chatting with some random stranger?

STRANGER: exactly! you get it STRANGER: if i even have my laptop in front of me, i'm counting that as me writing my essay

YOU: what's it about?

STRANGER: what kind of a role religion has when it comes to politics and shit

YOU: and let me guess, that's not a topic you enjoy studying in your free time?

STRANGER: you know me so well already

YOU: if it helps, i'm also studying. or, procrastinating studying. YOU: i have a chemistry exam on monday :(

STRANGER: ...and you're studying for it on a friday already? STRANGER: i just read for exams a few minutes before they start STRANGER: compared to me you're like a genius

YOU: eyeroll. YOU: and that's why you have trouble writing an essay! YOU: you're probably missing out on a keg stand at your 'hot party'.

STRANGER: i can't believe you're making fun of the art of the stand

YOU: you'll live.

STRANGER: how do you know? maybe i'm the god of the kegstand and every time a human loses faith in me, i grow weaker

YOU: are you? YOU: oh sacred frat god? YOU: shall i make an offering for you at your altar? would that appease your distaste towards me?

STRANGER: you shall

YOU: okay, how about these for an offering: YOU: a white claw, a buzz ball, a red solo cup with a strange mixture of different kinds of alcohols, and a vape pen?

STRANGER: those appease me much, mere mortal STRANGER: also mango-flavored juul pods

YOU: you're so weird.

STRANGER: says the person who's hanging with her cat on a friday night

YOU: how do you figure i'm a her?

STRANGER: oh please STRANGER: no man would disrespect the fine art of the keg stand

YOU: got me there, frat boy.

STRANGER: that's very presumptuous STRANGER: i could just be a tomboy

YOU: please. YOU: if you're a girl then i'm sasquatch.

STRANGER: don't worry, i don't mind a little body hair

YOU: i hate you.

glancing at the clock on your wall, you'd realized that thirty minutes had already gone by. you let out a small sigh, rubbing your eyes.

YOU: i should get going. i can't keep procrastinating.

STRANGER: already?

YOU: what, are you gonna miss me or something?

STRANGER: hey, if i get a pic of bigfoot i'm gonna be making millions, i just have capitalistic tendencies

YOU: fair point.

STRANGER: you should add me as a friend

YOU: you can do that??? i thought this was an anonymous chat.

STRANGER: yeah you can lmao why else would you need to set a username STRANGER: i'll just do it

and soon enough, a pop-up appeared on your screen, with the text 'STRANGER HAS REQUESTED TO ADD YOU AS FRIEND.' along with the buttons 'ACCEPT' and 'DENY'.

you pursed your lips, your finger lingering over the touchpad, first dragging it over the button reading 'DENY', before you let out a sigh, taking a large swig from the bottle of wine, moving the cursor to 'ACCEPT' and pressing it before you could regret it.

the pop-up was now replaced with another one, reading 'CONGRATS AnnabelLee YOU ARE NOW FRIENDS WITH MalachiConstant' and when you read the stranger's name, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. you clicked the red 'x' that closed the pop-up, and the word STRANGER in your chat logs was now replaced by MalachiConstant.

YOU: really? vonnegut?

MalachiConstant: what? i don't seem like the type to read?

YOU: just surprising!

MalachiConstant: says the girl with the hard-on for poe MalachiConstant: which isn't surprising at all

YOU: har har. YOU: goodnight, weird vonnegut frat boy.

MalachiConstant: goodnight, weird poe girl

YOU HAVE LOGGED OUT OF KILDAREUCHATS.

[eatingoutmen]

MDNI. - ⚠︎ 18+ || 🎥 「 ✦ I’MA MAKE YOU SCREAM, ALL NIGHT LONG ✦ 」 || 🎬 STARRING : JAYCE TALIS

The sounds of moans filled the room, along with the sound of skin smacking against skin. Its symphony sounding so passionate and raw, like a siren calling out to you with their alluring voice that sent shivers down you spine. You couldn’t help but be captivated at the scene playing out in front of your eyes.

JAYCE gripped onto to your shoulders for support, his fingers tangling your hair tightly. He gazed up to you with half-lidded eyes, fighting not to close them shut from the pleasure as best as he could, his head resting back against the pillows while he moaned and whimpered into your ear. You thrusted your hips slow and gentle, feeling his hole clenching around your cock. Your tip hitting his prostate, abusing it repeatedly that made him struggle to form the slightest bit of coherent thoughts.

You didn’t mind it a bit, you listened to his moans and whimpers as if it was the only form of communication he had left. You chuckled a bit, smiling slightly. “Too much?” You asked softly, slowly down your pace. JAYCE whined in frustration, he shook his head and looked up to you with those beautiful eyes he had. “No, keep going- Please…” JAYCE managed to gasp out between moans, his nails grazing on your back lightly and left faint marks on your skin that made you groan in pleasure.

You increased your pace again hearing his pleas, your cockhead hitting his prostate again. JAYCE’S breath caught in his throat, his body quivering with pleasure with each powerful thrust deep inside him. “Y-yes, just like that…” JAYCE moaned out, his eyes rolling back from pleasure. His breaths coming in ragged gasps, his walls being stretched out at the sensation of your cock deep inside him. “You want more?” You teased, gazing down at the man below you. JAYCE whimpered and moaned loudly before he nodded his head desperately.

JAYCE held onto your body, keeping you close to him. As if he was desperate and starved for your touch, something you find so sweet and pretty. “I’m close…” JAYCE gasped, his body arching and quivering. You nodded and kept up with your relentless pace, your cock twitching inside him. You both moaned, you released your warm flow of cum inside him. JAYCE let out a soft whimper as his body shook and cum shot of his cock, landing on his abdomen.

All that was left in the room was the smell of sex and sweat, you were both panting and your forehead pressed against his. You brushed a gentle kiss against his forehead, JAYCE let out a soft, contented sigh. You tilted head in curiosity when you heard him letting out a breathy laugh, you couldn’t help but crack a smile and chuckled. “What’s so funny?” You asked him, JAYCE looked up and had a grin on his face.

You gasped in surprise and arousal when he pinned you down and had you beneath him, your breath hitched when JAYCE slowly began to slide your cock inside of him and let out a soft moan. His gaze never leaving yours as his hands found their way to your bare chest. JAYCE began to ride you slowly, making your cock twitch inside him as you felt yourself get aroused again at the sight of him like this, so needy and pathetic all for you. “I want more…” JAYCE whispered, his hands caressing your chest.

Well, this is gonna be a long night.

ʚ all works belong to eatingoutmen — do NOT steal, copy or repost anywhere without my permission from ME personally. ɞ

[riddleriddles]

ಇ do i wanna know, hozier cover.

pairing. mattheo riddle x hufflepuff!quiet!reader

summary. sometimes, pansy knows exactly how to bring couples together. when mattheo, known for his grumpy mood, finds himself growing closer to a quiet, introspective girl, he must come to terms with feelings he never expected to have.

warnings. a bit of suggestive scene, but nothing explicit

add notes. I feel like my dialogues would never be said in real life.

visit my masterlist :)

ಇ

It was Pansy Parkinson’s birthday. The Parkinson Manor was a spectacle—a grand, ancient, and imposing structure, surrounded by meticulously tended trees. Its tall stone towers stood in stark contrast to the ethereal silver of the moon on that autumnal night, while the crisp air carried the fresh, melancholy scent of fallen leaves. The entrance hall sparkled with the glow of greenish lights that reflected off the polished marble floor. Music flowed through the vast corridors of the manor, mingling with the voices and laughter of the guests. Pansy never did anything halfway, and her seventeenth birthday party was no exception.

The main hall was teeming with Hogwarts students, predominantly Slytherins, although a few figures from other houses stood out, strategically placed. Groups gathered around enchanted tables laden with exquisite appetisers, while others chatted or danced in the centre of the hall beneath the enchanting glow of chandeliers and floating magical candles.

Mattheo Riddle leaned against a wall near the fireplace. His spot had been carefully chosen, allowing him to observe the entire room without drawing attention to himself. A glass of some drink—nearly forgotten in his hand—served more as a distraction than a necessity. His eyes scanned the scene with the detached air of someone watching a mediocre play, clearly indifferent to the excitement around him. He despised parties, but Pansy had been emphatic: “If you don’t show up, I’ll never invite you to anything again, and you’ll have to live with that.”

And so, here he was, enduring the loud music, empty chatter, and the unbearable feeling of being out of place.

The room buzzed with familiar faces: Blaise was chatting with Daphne near the makeshift bar, Draco was laughing at something Theodore had said in a secluded corner, and at the centre of it all, Pansy shone like a star, greeting her guests with a smile that was as rehearsed as it was charming.

Mattheo let out a deep sigh, raising the glass to his lips and sipping half-heartedly, merely to occupy himself. His thoughts drifted to the garden, which promised a quiet, solitary escape—perfect for smoking a cigarette far from the noise and frivolity of the hall.

You entered the party hesitantly, your measured steps and reserved posture betraying your unease. Your eyes scanned the room cautiously, taking in every detail before allowing yourself to fully step in. You clutched a small, delicately wrapped gift in your hands, your arms tucked close to your body as if forming a barrier against the chaos around you.

This wasn’t your kind of place—not in a bad way, just different from what you were used to. Your hair, styled in a carefully crafted half-updo, fell in soft waves over your shoulders, catching the golden light of the chandeliers and the greenish glow of the magical candles scattered around the room. Your pastel yellow dress, a nod to your Hufflepuff identity, was graceful and perfectly suited to the occasion, modest yet elegant without being over the top.

Stepping inside, you carefully shut the door behind you with a soft thud, masked by the music filling the air. You looked around attentively, moving with the grace of someone trying to avoid drawing attention. Your eyes landed on Pansy, who, upon noticing your arrival, quickly made her way over, a radiant smile lighting up her face.

“I’m so glad you came! I’ve been waiting for you,” Pansy exclaimed excitedly, and you smiled shyly, offering her the neatly wrapped gift. She took it with equal enthusiasm and, without missing a beat, guided you with a gentle touch on your arm, introducing you to her closest friends, most of whom you didn’t know—predominantly Slytherins. To anyone watching from afar, you might have seemed out of place, but you nodded politely, feeling quietly pleased to be surrounded by the friends of your close companion.

You tried to adjust to the atmosphere. The party was loud and full of people, but you knew this was exactly the kind of event Pansy loved, and it had been hard to turn down her insistence—especially on such an important occasion as her seventeenth birthday. What you hadn’t anticipated, however, was the intensity of it all: the loud laughter, the conversations about topics you barely understood or didn’t care about, and the overwhelmingly high volume of the music.

“Relax,” Pansy whispered in your ear, giving your shoulder a light squeeze as she noticed your discomfort. “You’re going to have fun, I promise.”

Her words carried a hint of something unspoken, though you didn’t catch it immediately. She continued introducing you to her friends, eventually steering you toward a more secluded corner near the fireplace, where Mattheo Riddle stood leaning against the wall, his expression bored, as though he were merely fulfilling an obligation. Holding a half-filled glass in one hand, his grey eyes scanned the room with disinterest.

“Mattheo!” Pansy’s voice interrupted his reverie, casual but still confident. “I want you to meet someone. This is my friend [Name]. [Name], this is Mattheo.”

Pansy smiled, looking far too pleased with the situation. “I’m sure you two will get along wonderfully!”

“Uh… hi,” you said softly, offering a timid smile as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, revealing a delicate gold moon-shaped earring that Mattheo noticed with mild indifference.

“Hi,” he replied curtly, his tone brief and aloof.

Pansy watched the exchange, clearly unimpressed by the lack of enthusiasm. “Did you know that [Name] loves taking care of magical creatures? And Mattheo, you have an impressive tolerance for people who talk too much—aren’t you two a perfect match?”

“Funny, Pansy,” Mattheo remarked, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head with a trace of amusement in his otherwise dry tone.

“Thanks, it was sincere,” Pansy quipped with a playful grin before stepping away with a conspiratorial air. “Enjoy yourselves!”

With one last smile, she left you both alone, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, the sound of the music and the chatter around you filled the silence as you, uneasy with the quiet, fidgeted with the star-shaped pendant on your necklace.

“So…” you began cautiously, looking at Mattheo. “Do you not like parties in general, or just the people who talk too much?”

The question caught him off guard, and he raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to think before answering. “Depends on the party. And the people.”

You let out a soft, almost inaudible laugh, but it was genuine. “I get that. This isn’t really my kind of place either.”

“Then why’d you come?” Mattheo asked, his tone casual but curious, as if waiting for your answer without much urgency.

“Pansy insisted,” you admitted with a small shrug. “And you?”

“Same.”

At that, you felt a little more at ease, tilting your head slightly towards him. “Well, at least we’ve got that in common.”

“Besides Pansy,” he added, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he warmed to the idea that the conversation wasn’t as tedious as he’d expected.

The silence returned, but this time it felt less strained. You leaned against the wall beside him, gazing up at the ceiling, where floating candles with green flames illuminated the room alongside the warm, golden glow of the grand chandelier, while Mattheo’s eyes followed the movement of the partygoers.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the commotion, you noticed the atmosphere beginning to feel heavier. The grand and magical hall, while impressive, didn’t make you feel at ease. Mattheo, seemingly indifferent to the pressure of the space, appeared entirely unbothered. So, you decided to suggest something.

“How about we head out to the garden?” you asked timidly, looking up at him. “It’s… quieter, maybe?”

Mattheo, still leaning against the wall with his usual impassive expression, raised an eyebrow. “You really think the garden will be quiet, considering how many people are here?”

You smiled, slightly embarrassed. “It’s worth a try, I guess.”

With a sigh, he slipped a hand into his pocket and pushed himself off the wall, nodding. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The Parkinson mansion’s garden was undeniably stunning, but you barely noticed the perfectly trimmed hedges shaped into geometric designs or the softly glowing magical flowers. Your attention was more on the refreshing coolness of the night air and the silence—a welcome contrast to the chaos inside the hall.

The two of you walked in silence for a while. Mattheo observed you discreetly, noticing how your fingers gently brushed against the petals of the flowers along the path, as if you were connecting with their textures and details. There was no urgency in your steps, and eventually, you reached a secluded corner near an ornate fountain illuminated by floating candles casting dancing reflections on the water. He stopped by a tree, crossing his arms and tilting his head back to look at the starry sky.

“Do you always go to Pansy’s parties?” you asked, finally breaking the silence as you strolled slowly, examining the plants with more interest.

“Not a chance,” he replied with a short laugh, as if the idea were absurd. “I try to avoid them, but she’s always got these… oddly persuasive arguments.”

“Like what?” you pressed, curious.

“Like, ‘if you don’t come, I’ll tell everyone you sketch people in your notebook like a frustrated artist,’” he said, smirking slightly.

You blinked, surprised at the confession, then let out a soft laugh. “You draw?”

Mattheo shrugged, almost defensive. “Sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

“It doesn’t sound like something to be embarrassed about,” you said simply, your tone free of judgment. Kneeling beside a bush of blueberries that seemed particularly enchanting, their tiny fruits shimmering under the magical light, you added, “Actually, it sounds pretty interesting.”

He frowned slightly, as if unsure how to respond, before muttering, “You haven’t seen it.”

“Maybe,” you replied with a small smile, still studying the delicate berries. “But it’s good to have a hobby. Everyone should have one.”

He remained quiet, thoughtful, as he watched you. There was something about you that felt disconnected from the party—yet perfectly at home here in the garden. The calmness in your movements, even when you seemed shy or slightly flustered, struck him as unusual.

“So, what’s your hobby?” he asked, breaking the silence this time.

You took a moment before answering, as if reflecting. “I suppose it’s taking care of magical creatures… They don’t need explanations. You just feel and understand them.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the clarity in your answer, but didn’t comment straight away. It was rare for someone to talk about something so simple with such genuine passion.

“Fair enough,” he finally said, his voice free of sarcasm but still lacking much emotion, as though he were processing your words.

The silence returned, though it was comfortable now—almost natural. Yet, your curiosity about him grew too strong to ignore.

“Do you go to these parties often?”

“Not at all,” he replied, his tone carrying a faint hint of amusement. “Just every now and then. Pansy’s good at twisting my arm. If I don’t show up, she starts predicting my social death.”

You chuckled lightly, your gaze shifting to him rather than the garden around you. “And you always give in?”

“I’m not great at resisting emotional blackmail,” he admitted with a short, slightly insincere smile. There was a coldness in his comment, as though he didn’t place much value on his presence here. “Pansy has a way of turning invitations into ultimatums.”

The floating candles swayed gently around the fountain, their light casting dancing shadows on the stone. You took a step aside, feeling the cool night breeze against your skin. After a few moments of light-hearted conversation, you realised the dialogue had run its course.

“Maybe we should head back,” you suggested, breaking the silence. “Before Pansy comes looking for us.”

He remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. His expression still carried a hint of seriousness, but his eyes had softened somewhat.

“Maybe you’re right,” he finally said, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. “But you decide when to go back, not me.”

You chuckled softly, shyly, as though the conversation had taken an unexpected turn, though it didn’t bother you. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

ಇ

The Slytherin common room was bathed in a cosy silence, broken only by the gentle crackle of the fire. The flames cast flickering shadows across the stone walls, creating an atmosphere that felt entirely separate from the rest of the castle. Mattheo was sprawled across one of the black leather sofas, his posture completely at ease, as though he belonged to the room itself. He twirled his wand idly between his fingers, his sharp gaze lazily drifting over the surroundings, disinterested.

The peace was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of firm, purposeful footsteps echoing off the cold floor. Mattheo didn’t look up—he didn’t need to. Pansy Parkinson always made her presence known. She strode into the room with the kind of authority that promised trouble, her eyes glinting with determination.

“Riddle,” she started, stopping in front of him with her hands firmly planted on her hips. “Saturday. Hogsmeade. You’re coming with me. Theo, Blaise, Luna, and [Name] will be there too.”

Mattheo didn’t even glance up, continuing to spin his wand between his fingers. His lips curved into a faint smirk. “No.”

“No?” Pansy echoed, raising an eyebrow, her expression morphing into one of incredulity. The set of her jaw only made her look more stubborn. “Come on, you haven’t even heard what I—”

“I’ve heard enough,” he cut her off, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. His voice was dry, laced with boredom. “And the answer is still no. I’m not going, I don’t want to, and I’m not changing my mind.”

Pansy let out a heavy sigh, though the self-satisfied smile creeping onto her lips only deepened Mattheo’s irritation. “You say that now, but come Saturday, you’ll be there.”

Mattheo let out a short, humourless laugh. “Pansy, I’d love to see you try. I’m not Theo, who does everything you say just because he thinks you’re ‘cute.’”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Pansy shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she crossed her arms. “Is this about [Name]? I saw you talking to her in the garden. You actually looked… sociable.”

“And? We exchanged a few words. That doesn’t mean anything.” His tone hardened as he narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated. Leaning back into the sofa, he added flatly, “If this is some attempt to set me up with someone, just give up now. You know I hate that.”

“Merlin, you’re dramatic,” Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes. “No one’s setting you up. [Name] doesn’t even care if you’re there, to be honest.”

“Brilliant,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “All the more reason for me not to go.”

Pansy let out a long-suffering sigh, though a mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “I know you, Mattheo. You say you won’t go, but come Saturday, you’ll end up tagging along with Blaise and Theo anyway. You need to connect with the world once in a while, you know.”

“I’m perfectly connected right here, thanks,” he shot back, gesturing around the room before rolling his eyes again. “I’d rather stay here than deal with people who think I owe them the courtesy of being interesting.”

Pansy tilted her head slightly, as though considering his words. “You’re so full of yourself. She’s not even thinking about you like that. And you know what? Maybe you should try acting normal around people who don’t fear you because of your surname.”

Mattheo huffed, but before he could muster a retort, Pansy was already making her way up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory. She threw a parting remark over her shoulder, her voice bright with smug amusement. “Saturday, Mattheo. Be there, or I’ll add this to my list of lifelong grudges!”

He stayed where he was, his gaze falling back to the wand in his fingers. It spun faster now, less smoothly than before. Pansy was wrong. He wasn’t going. And if [Name] didn’t care whether he came or not, that was fine by him. A relief, really. A big relief.

ಇ

The streets of Hogsmeade buzzed with chatter and laughter, the crunch of footsteps in the snow, and the sweet smell of warm drinks wafting out of nearby shops. Despite the lively atmosphere, Mattheo would still take this over the castle any day—at least here he wasn’t constantly followed by stares and whispers. He walked with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his black overcoat, his expression bored, though his sharp eyes missed nothing.

“So,” Blaise started, nudging Theo with his elbow. “Whose brilliant idea was it to drag him out here? Thought Mattheo was allergic to socialising.”

“Don’t start,” Mattheo muttered without even glancing at them. “I’m only here because someone wouldn’t shut up about how this was going to be ‘fun.’”

Theo laughed, unbothered. “It is fun. You should be thanking me.”

Mattheo opened his mouth to fire back but was cut off as the three of them rounded a corner and found themselves face-to-face with Pansy, Luna, and [Name] standing outside the Three Broomsticks.

“Oh, what are you lot doing here?” Pansy exclaimed, her voice dripping with faux surprise. Only Mattheo caught the teasing glint in her eye.

“Pansy,” he began, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t even try it.”

“Try what?” She blinked at him innocently. “This is pure coincidence.”

Mattheo was about to argue when his attention was pulled to Blaise and Luna. The moment they spotted each other, Luna lit up with a bright smile, and Blaise… Well, he looked like someone had hit him with a softening charm. It was rare to see him like that—genuinely smitten.

Luna stepped closer immediately, lightly tugging Blaise by the arm as she spoke. Whatever she said made him laugh, low and almost shy, a side of him Mattheo hardly ever saw. Blaise was usually so composed, but with Luna, he seemed… different.

That’s when it hit Mattheo. This wasn’t some trap for him. It was for them.

He glanced at Theo, who was watching the scene with a smug smile. Theo shrugged in response, as if to say, Don’t look at me, this wasn’t my idea.

Pansy, however, wasn’t even trying to hide her satisfaction, though she kept her focus firmly on Luna and Blaise.

Mattheo sighed quietly. Right. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe this whole outing really was just about those two.

But then his eyes landed on you. You stood a little behind Pansy, a small, almost shy smile playing on your lips as you watched Blaise and Luna. You didn’t seem out of place, exactly—just quiet, like someone unsure where they fit into the group dynamic.

He looked away before you noticed, but Pansy, ever observant, caught the movement.

“Well,” she said, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Since we’re all here, why don’t we do something together?”

Mattheo was already preparing to decline, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way you, distracted, reached out to catch the falling snowflakes in your hand, that soft, almost enchanted smile still on your face.

He frowned. What was so special about snow, anyway?

“Relax, Riddle,” Pansy said, pulling him back to reality. “I didn’t plan this.”

“You planned this,” he replied flatly.

“And if I did?” She held her hands up, her smile infuriatingly casual. “It’s not the end of the world. Try being social for once.”

Before he could respond, Theo slung an arm casually around his shoulders, as if to stop him from bolting. “Not every day we hang out with such a… diverse group.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing. Judging by how glued Blaise and Luna were to each other, it was pointless. Still, the way Pansy kept glancing at you before whispering something to Theo made him suspicious.

You, meanwhile, seemed completely oblivious to it all. You adjusted your scarf, your attention caught by a nearby shop window where tiny enchanted ice figurines were dancing.

“Alright,” Theo said, breaking the moment of silence. “So, what’s first on the agenda?”

Mattheo let out a heavy sigh and glanced over at you. You were standing a bit apart from the group, but somehow, your eyes met his. A small, tentative smile crossed your face, the kind that seemed unsure of its place, before you quickly looked away.

He considered walking away, but something made him stay. Maybe it was the sense that Pansy would never let him hear the end of it if he left.

“The Three Broomsticks?” he suggested, his voice laced with reluctance. “If we’re doing this, might as well get it over with.”

Pansy’s smile widened, like she knew exactly what he was thinking, but to his annoyance, she said nothing.

ಇ

The Three Broomsticks was as crowded as Mattheo had expected. The buzz of conversations and laughter mingled with the clatter of mugs and the sweet smell of butterbeer, creating a lively, almost chaotic atmosphere. For most, it was a place to forget about the pressures of school, but for Mattheo, it felt suffocating. He stood near the entrance, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, ready to leave at any moment.

“See? Told you this would be fun,” Theo said, flashing a carefree grin as he dropped into a chair beside Pansy.

“If this is your idea of fun, I’d rather be back at the castle,” Mattheo replied flatly, choosing the chair furthest from the table.

Pansy, ever the orchestrator, settled in beside Theo and shot a smug look at Mattheo. “Oh, stop being dramatic. You’ll survive.”

Luna and Blaise took their seats next, the pair seemingly lost in their own little world. Blaise leaned in to whisper something, and Luna let out a soft, musical laugh. Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“They’ve already forgotten we’re here,” he muttered, tapping a keyring against the table in an almost absentminded rhythm.

Pansy smirked. “Leave them be. They’re cute.”

Mattheo huffed but didn’t bother replying. His eyes drifted across the room, eventually landing on you. You had chosen a seat near the window, detached from the group’s chatter. The soft glow of candlelight reflected in the glass as you gazed out at the falling snow, your expression calm and contemplative, as though soaking in every detail of the world outside.

For a moment, Mattheo found himself wondering what was so fascinating about the snow. It was just snow—falling endlessly, especially this time of year. But to you, it seemed to hold some deeper meaning, something he couldn’t quite grasp. You watched the flurries with a quiet intensity he found… puzzling.

“Paying attention, or has the snow got you too?” Theo teased, nudging Mattheo as he caught him staring.

Mattheo shot him a sharp look. “Shut up.”

Glancing at you again, he lowered his voice. “Why’s she so quiet?”

Pansy, ever observant, turned her gaze from you to the two whispering boys. “Because that’s how she is. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Very funny,” Mattheo shot back, narrowing his eyes at her.

Theo chuckled. “She just doesn’t like all the noise. Makes me wonder, though… why’s she here with us?”

“Because you invited her,” Mattheo said dryly, his tone clipped. Theo shrugged, unbothered.

“She’s here for Pansy. And maybe because sometimes people like to shake things up a bit,” Theo replied, as if it were obvious.

Mattheo didn’t respond, his attention drawn back to you. You were still lost in the view outside, but you must have felt the weight of their stares because, after a moment, you turned to face the group. Your smile was small and uncertain, a touch of embarrassment in your eyes. “What?” you asked quietly, your voice soft and cautious.

“Mattheo thinks you’re mysterious,” Theo said boldly, grinning as he leaned back lazily in his chair.

You frowned, your gaze shifting to Mattheo, who let out an irritated scoff. “That’s not what I said.”

“No need to explain yourself, Riddle,” Pansy chimed in with a sly grin, hiding behind the menu.

You gave a shy smile, clearly flustered, and buried yourself in the menu as if it were a shield. Mattheo caught the faint blush creeping across your cheeks, and for some inexplicable reason, it made him glance away, feeling oddly unsettled.

“What’re we ordering?” Blaise asked suddenly, breaking the tension and redirecting the group’s focus.

While the others debated their orders, Mattheo remained silent, his fingers tapping against the table. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something about you that left him uneasy—not in a bad way, but in a way that made him feel restless, like he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with himself.

The waiter arrived, looking a little tired but polite, his quill poised to take orders. Theo and Blaise rattled off their choices with ease, but when it was your turn, you hesitated, your voice so soft that the waiter leaned in.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” the waiter asked, his tone patient.

Mattheo noticed the discomfort on your face as you tried again, your cheeks flushing with self-consciousness. It was such a simple moment, but something about it made Mattheo feel compelled to step in.

“She’ll have a butterbeer,” he said abruptly, leaning back in his chair as if it were no big deal. “And I’ll have the same.”

The waiter blinked, then nodded. “Right, and the rest of you?”

You glanced at Mattheo, your surprise evident. For a moment, he wondered if he’d made things worse. But then you murmured, “Thanks,” so quietly it was almost inaudible. Your smile was small and a little shy, but there was something about it—something genuine—that made Mattheo’s chest tighten unexpectedly.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and while it wasn’t much, it was enough to make Mattheo look away, feeling a strange heat rising in his neck. What the hell was that?

He focused on the table instead, letting his gaze fall on Pansy. She was watching him with her usual smirk, the kind that screamed, I know something you don’t. That look alone was enough to irritate him further.

He clenched his jaw, determined to brush it off. Whatever Pansy thought she saw, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like him to get caught up in whatever game she might be playing. And yet, he couldn’t shake the thought of that small, genuine smile you’d given him—or the way it had made him feel completely out of his depth.

Later, the group had finished their meal and was now strolling leisurely through the softly lit streets of Hogsmeade. Snow fell in delicate flakes, blanketing the rooftops with a fine layer, creating a scene that was ordinary but, in your eyes, uniquely enchanting.

Mattheo walked in silence, his hands casually shoved into his pockets, while you stayed a little ahead with Luna, Blaise, and Pansy. The latter seemed particularly alert, as if she were plotting something in her mind.

“Let’s stop by Honeydukes,” Pansy announced suddenly, pausing beside Blaise and Luna. “I’m absolutely craving those ginger caramels.”

“Now? is probably a nightmare,” Theo grumbled, though his protest was pointless as Pansy was already dragging him firmly towards the shop’s entrance.

Before you could say a word, she turned to you and Mattheo with a sly, self-assured grin.

“How about you two check out the bookshop? We’ll catch up in a bit!”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing uncertainly in the direction of the bookshop and then back at Pansy. But she didn’t wait for a reply. Without giving you a chance to argue, she disappeared into Honeydukes with Theo in tow.

Mattheo let out a quiet sigh, his expression laced with a knowing irritation at Pansy’s obvious intentions. But he didn’t comment. Instead, he gave a small nod towards the bookshop.

“Fancy it?” he asked, his tone straightforward.

You nodded slightly, not trusting your voice to come out steady, and followed him towards the shop.

The interior of the bookshop was warm and serene. Tall shelves were crammed with books, from old, worn-out tomes to pristine, freshly bound editions. The air was filled with the unmistakable scent of aged paper, and the soft glow of strategically placed lamps added to the cosy atmosphere.

Walking slowly down the aisles, you trailed your fingers over the spines of books, savouring the texture of each one. Mattheo had wandered to a quieter section, where he pulled an old, dark-covered book from the shelf and examined it with mild curiosity.

“I’ve read that one,” you remarked casually, stepping closer.

Mattheo looked up at you, his expression faintly surprised. “Have you?”

You nodded, your eyes lighting up shyly but genuinely. “It’s really good, though a bit sad.”

He shrugged, placing the book back and reaching for another.

“That one too,” you said, glancing at the new book in his hand.

He raised an eyebrow, holding the book for a moment before putting it back and selecting yet another.

“Oh, that one’s brilliant!” you exclaimed, a spark of enthusiasm slipping through. “A bit heavy in parts, but it’s one of my favourites.”

Mattheo paused, studying the book in his hand before looking back at you.

“Have you read all of these?” he asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering away briefly before meeting his again, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

“Almost all of them,” you admitted softly. “I just… really like reading.”

A faint, genuine smile tugged at Mattheo’s lips as he shook his head slightly.

“All right,” he said, holding up another book. “How about this one? Have you read it?” He revealed the title: The Great Gatsby.

Your eyes lit up instantly as you nodded. “Yes. It’s a classic. Sad, but so good.”

Mattheo let out a short sigh, glancing at the book with more interest. “Do you cry at all of them, or just the ones I pick because I like the cover?”

Your timid but sincere smile answered before your words. “Only the good ones.”

For a moment, he just watched you, his eyes lingering as you studied the shelves around you with quiet fascination.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Think I’ll like this one?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Depends. Do you like happy endings?”

Mattheo chuckled lowly, a hint of dry humour in his voice. “Wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

Your expression softened at his response, but you didn’t say anything right away. Instead, you looked up at him, as though trying to understand him better. He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze and glanced away.

“I’ll take it,” he muttered, holding the book firmly. “If it makes me cry, it’s your fault.”

You laughed quietly, the sound lighter this time, as he tucked the book under his arm.

“Do you read much?” you asked, your voice still a little shy as your eyes lifted to meet his.

“Not really.”

The moment was abruptly interrupted by Pansy’s familiar voice cutting through the quiet. She appeared suddenly beside Mattheo, a smug smile on her face.

“You two are taking ages,” she teased, throwing a loaded glance between the two of you. “Buying a book or writing one?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, refusing to dignify her with an answer, while you glanced away, feeling slightly flustered. Pansy’s satisfied grin made it clear she’d gotten exactly what she wanted. Without ceremony, she tugged Mattheo towards the counter to pay for his book. You followed quietly as they left the shop, snow beginning to fall again outside.

ಇ

Once again, the group had gathered, this time in a more comfortable setting, as if they had already gotten used to the rhythm of their regular outings. The Slytherin common room felt cosy and calm, bathed in the soft light of the fire crackling in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow across the space. Theo and Pansy were chatting animatedly about something trivial, while Blaise and Luna stayed, as usual, wrapped up in their own bubble, oblivious to the world around them.

You and Mattheo, however, were more on the edge of the group, tucked away in a quiet corner where silence hung comfortably in the air. He was staring into the flames, his mind distant, while you flicked through a book, your eyes quickly scanning the shelves of volumes in the common room.

It was you who broke the silence, your voice soft, laced with your usual curiosity.

“Have you finished that book, Mattheo?”

He gave you a look after a brief pause, responding casually.

“Yeah, it was quick to read, just like Cat’s Cradle.”

“You’ve read Cat’s Cradle?” you asked, surprised, your eyes lighting up instantly at the thought that he might be interested in such a quirky book.

Mattheo nodded with a relaxed gesture.

“Mm-hm.”

“I love that book,” you said enthusiastically. “I thought you said you didn’t read much.”

He laughed and shrugged, not giving it much thought.

“Well, what’s ‘much’?”

You laughed, satisfied with the answer, before diving back into your love for the book.

“Cat’s Cradle is just so chaotic, so human, you know? Like a distorted mirror of ourselves.”

Mattheo furrowed his brow, now visibly more interested.

“Human?”

“Yeah,” you continued, gesturing lightly. “The way Vonnegut portrays people, with all their confusing flaws—it’s so real. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but still, it’s genius.”

Mattheo watched you for a moment, trying to understand your perspective before replying in a teasing tone.

“I’m not sure ‘genius’ is the right word.”

You let out a soft laugh, not offended.

“No? And how would you describe it?”

He shrugged, his eyes drifting to the window beside him, watching the snow fall gently outside.

“It’s more like… a bunch of people getting into trouble because they’re too thick to see what’s right in front of them.”

You tilted your head slightly, amused by the simplicity of his argument.

“Exactly. That’s what makes it genius.”

Mattheo blinked, clearly impressed by your response. He wasn’t sure if you were joking or if you really believed it.

“You think stupidity is genius?”

“Nooo,” you said with a sideways smile. “But it makes us reflect on that human stupidity, like a portrait of our own contradictions, in a raw way. It’s uncomfortable, but in a weird way, it’s beautiful.”

Mattheo fell silent for a moment, processing your words.

“Beautiful?” He raised an eyebrow, as if trying to decide whether the comment was fascinating or just plain weird.

“Yes, beautiful,” you insisted, your tone calm but firm. “I think there’s beauty in accepting that we’re flawed, that we’re always trying, even when we know we might fail.”

He let out a low, almost incredulous laugh.

“You’ve got a peculiar way of looking at things.”

“Peculiar?” You laughed back, not losing the lightness of the moment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Before he could respond, you leaned forward slightly, without thinking too much, and with a gentle gesture, you brushed a stray curl of hair from his face. Your touch was so natural that he barely had time to process it. Your fingers slid smoothly through his dark hair, pushing the curl away, and you did it with such ease that it felt completely normal to you. But for Mattheo, the action was enough to freeze him for a moment.

Mattheo froze. His mind instantly went on alert. The touch, though brief, had triggered a cascade of disconnected thoughts that he had no idea how to sort or deal with at that moment.

You, completely unaware of the inner battle Mattheo was facing, turned your attention back to the book you were skimming through, still intrigued by the shelves in the Slytherin common room. They were filled with delicate details, snakes and symbols, which gave the place a peculiar touch.

Mattheo, on the other hand, remained silent, lost in his own thoughts. He tried to push the moment’s impact aside, but it seemed impossible. The touch was still fresh on his skin, and the echo of your words about the book lingered in his mind.

ಇ

The night was quiet and peaceful at Hogwarts Castle. Mattheo lay in his dormitory, the soft light of the moon streaming through the window, casting a subtle glow over the room. His mind, however, was restless, filled with thoughts that were hard to sort. Almost mechanically, he reached for his wand, and with a subtle motion, began to move it, calling the music.

The first notes of “Crash Into Me” began to fill the room, softly, as Dave Matthews’ voice echoed through the space, enveloping him in a familiar melody. The song seeped into him like a comforting whisper, and something in it gripped him almost viscerally. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be consumed by the music, and, without knowing why, raised his wand again to put the track on repeat.

The words of the song began to take on more meaning, subtly echoing within him, much like the thoughts swirling in his mind that he couldn’t quite organise. It was as if the song spoke directly to him, not in a clear and direct way, but through its rhymes and melody, something in between the lines made him think of you. Your calm presence, yet shrouded in mystery, took shape in his mind.

He turned over in bed, still immersed in confusing thoughts, trying to understand the nameless feeling that overtook him. What was this unease? The music seemed to break something inside him, as if it were unveiling parts of himself he didn’t know existed.

As the chords of the song filled the space around him, a quiet exhaustion began to settle in. He surrendered to the melody, letting himself drift, without haste or resistance. The last thing he thought of before falling asleep was your face.

In his dream, you were beneath the Astronomy Tower. The stars watched silently as you leaned against the balustrade, your hair softly shimmering, floating with the night’s breeze. They saw when you approached him, and the world around seemed to shrink, as if everything became insignificant. You kissed him, a simple, gentle kiss, incredibly soft, full of sincerity. When you pulled away, his eyes opened.

The song “Crash Into Me” still played in his ears, but the sensation of the kiss, the soft touch of your lips, lingered with him, even though the dream dissipated as quickly as it had come. He lay there, motionless, not knowing exactly when he had been struck. The confusion that had once dominated his thoughts now seemed entwined with that fleeting memory, and he allowed himself to feel.

ಇ

Theo’s dormitory was as cosy as ever, lit only by the bedside lamp, casting a soft yellow glow that created an intimate atmosphere. The lazy tendrils of cigarette smoke drifted in the air, mixing with the low hum of music playing from a small gramophone in the corner. Lorenzo was slouched on the sofa, his feet carelessly propped up on the coffee table, while Theo, seated on the floor with his back against the bed, took long drags from his cigarette, releasing the smoke in the air as if following a ritual.

Pansy, meanwhile, leaned against an armchair, distractedly fiddling with her wand. Mattheo remained on the outskirts, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and visibly more distant than usual.

“So,” Pansy began, breaking the silence with a mischievous smile playing on her lips, though her tone remained casual, “I’m thinking of organising another group trip to Hogsmeade next Saturday. You coming?”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, sceptical. “Who’s going?”

Pansy shrugged nonchalantly. “Me, obviously, Theo, Blaise, Lorenzo, Daphne… if she’s not busy.”

He gave a small nod, considering the idea. Maybe getting out a bit wouldn’t be so bad, even if he wasn’t exactly in the mood.

“And [Name],” Pansy added casually, throwing him a sly sidelong glance.

The effect was immediate. Mattheo froze, quickly averting his gaze. “Ah… no, I don’t think I’ll be going, then.”

Pansy stared at him, taken aback. “You’re not?”

“I’m just not in the mood,” he replied flatly, still avoiding her gaze.

“Not in the mood or running from her?” Pansy pressed, her tone sharp. She uncrossed her arms and stepped away from the armchair, facing him head-on.

He let out a humourless laugh, pushing away from the wall. “Oh, spare me, Pansy. This is just one of your dumb ideas to try and push me onto one of your friends. I’ve told you, it’s not going to work.”

“Push you onto my friends?” she repeated, incredulous, the disbelief clear in her voice. “Merlin’s beard, do you even hear what you’re saying? I’m just organising a trip, it’s not your bloody wedding!”

“Oh, right,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “You think I don’t notice? You’re always trying to set people up, like it’s some kind of game. But this isn’t some stupid romance novel. And honestly? She’s none of that, not worth the hassle.”

The silence that followed was thick, almost tangible. Even Lorenzo, who had seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, lifted his gaze, surprised by the bitterness in Mattheo’s voice. Pansy stood still for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh.

“Not worth the hassle?” she repeated, each word laced with icy venom, as she stepped right up to him. “Do you have any idea what utter rubbish you’ve just said?”

Mattheo tried to hold her stare, but there was something in her stance that unsettled him.

“You don’t even believe that,” she continued, her voice firm now. “You’re so terrified of the idea of liking her that you’d rather say something vile like that than admit it to yourself. But guess what, Mattheo? It doesn’t change a thing.”

He crossed his arms, frustration clearly etched on his face. “I’m not scared of anything. You’re the one harassing me with this ridiculous conversation.”

“Ridiculous?” Pansy raised her voice, frustration seeping through every word. “You’re the one acting ridiculous! As if liking someone is some kind of weakness. It’s pathetic, actually—it’s so sad, it’s almost funny.”

“Oh, fuck off, Pansy,” he snapped, his anger boiling over.

She laughed, a sarcastic chuckle escaping her. “I’m just trying to stop you from being an idiot. But, then again, maybe you don’t deserve someone like her. Maybe she’s too good for you, yeah?”

Mattheo clenched his jaw, irritation flashing across his face before he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

In the stillness of his own dormitory, he threw himself onto the bed, his chest still heaving from the argument. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to organise his thoughts, but Pansy’s words continued to echo in his mind like an unshakable spell.

“Maybe she’s too good for you.”

He knew he shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t true, and he knew it. She was worth the effort, without a doubt. He remembered the way she spoke about books, how her eyes lit up with passion for things he didn’t even bother to notice. She was kind, funny, incredibly genuine, and, above all, special.

With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Pansy was right. He was an idiot. And, worse yet, an idiot in love.

ಇ

The pub in Hogsmeade was packed, but the noise around Jasmine felt distant as she watched the group of friends play pool with curiosity. The soft lighting gave the place a warm, inviting atmosphere, while the low music in the background punctuated the occasional laughter of Theo and Lorenzo, who were arguing about who the better player was.

Mattheo kept his gaze fixed on you, knowing there was no escaping this. He was already falling, and he knew it. Rather than resist, he decided to enjoy the moment. There was something about your cautious yet charming manner that stirred him in a way he couldn’t quite understand. But soon he realised there was no need to comprehend it. It was as if the fall was inevitable, and somehow, the view would be worth it. All that was left for him to do was relax and let it happen. Maybe it was time to be bolder. Let the fall happen. He was ready for whatever came next and wanted to see how far it could go.

“Go on, who’s next?” Theo asked, twirling the cue stick with a teasing smile, aiming it at you.

“Definitely not me,” you muttered instantly, shrugging behind your butterbeer.

“Oh, come on,” Pansy teased, smiling. “You’ve never played?”

You shook your head, feeling a little out of place. “No idea how to play.”

Before Pansy could insist, Mattheo pushed off from the wall where he had been leaning, arms casually crossed, and approached. “I’ll teach you.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “You don’t have to, I—”

“Come here,” he interrupted, leaving no room for protest. He reached out and, before you could object, gently took hold of your wrist, guiding you to the right spot at the table.

Frozen, you watched him as if he’d just cast a spell. There was something so natural about the gesture – as though you’d shared this kind of proximity for years – that it left you speechless.

“Grab the cue,” he instructed, his voice low and slightly husky. You obeyed, holding the cue with clear hesitation.

Mattheo took a step back, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Like this,” he said, adjusting his hands over yours. His fingers were firm but didn’t squeeze; the touch felt casual, yet it carried an intimacy that made you blush instantly.

He tilted his head, his voice close to your ear. “You need to align with the ball.”

His breath seemed to brush against your skin, and your heart raced. “Right… okay.”

He chuckled softly. “Relax, you’re all tense.”

“I’m not tense!” you protested, though the nervousness in your voice gave you away.

“Of course not,” he teased, shifting his hands slightly to adjust the position. “Now aim here.”

Biting your lip, you tried to focus, even though the closeness made it nearly impossible. The sound of his voice, the way he leaned in, his firm yet careful touch – it was all making your mind spin.

“Ready?” he asked, and you nodded, feeling your face heat up.

With his help, you moved the cue forward, striking the ball harder than you expected. It rolled across the table, hitting a few others before dropping into one of the pockets.

“See?” he said, stepping back slightly but keeping his hand near yours. “That wasn’t so hard.”

You laughed nervously, too shy to meet his eyes. “I think it was more you than me.”

“Maybe,” he replied casually, but his gaze was now locked on yours.

You noticed he was still holding your hand, even though it wasn’t necessary anymore, and for a moment, you were completely speechless. When he finally let go, the touch seemed to linger.

“Next,” he said, handing the cue to Theo, who was already laughing.

You stepped away from the table, trying to regain your composure, but your heart was still racing. Pansy watched you with a mischievous smile, but said nothing – which, in some way, was even more embarrassing.

Mattheo, now leaning back against the wall again, looked relaxed, though a subtle smile played on his lips. He knew exactly what he’d done – and he seemed to be enjoying it.

The night was light, filled with laughter and pool shots. You still felt a bit embarrassed about the last shot, about Mattheo’s unexpected touch, and the way he seemed so at ease. The way he approached so naturally, as if there was an intimacy between you two that you didn’t know how to handle, made you nervous, but also… curious.

At one point, you stepped away to grab the drink you’d left on the table, and Mattheo was right behind you, not wasting a second before taking the empty glass from your hand.

“I’ll get you another,” he said, flashing a casual smile.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him and then at the empty glass he’d taken from your hand. “Hey, I can do it myself.”

He shrugged as he walked away. “So what? Let me do it for you.”

You stared at him as he made his way to the bar, wanting to protest, but knowing he probably wouldn’t care. He was back quickly, drink in hand, placing it gently in front of you.

“Here,” he said, smiling tranquilly.

Still unsure how to react, you responded, “You really don’t listen, do you?”

He laughed easily and sat beside you. “I listen, I just don’t care. And let’s be honest,” he chuckled softly, “you’re not exactly good at hiding that you like it when I do things for you.”

Your face flushed, but you weren’t sure whether you were more surprised by the comment or by how comfortable he seemed with the situation. You tried to change the subject, though your voice still sounded hesitant. “I really could’ve filled my own glass.”

“Sure,” he interrupted with a sly grin, “but I wanted to do it.”

Not knowing how to respond, you looked down, crossing your legs and resting the drink on your thigh, unsure of how to act when Mattheo was messing with your composure. But secretly, you were enjoying this new side of him – unsure of how to react, but liking it all the same.

“I know what I’m doing,” you whispered, more to yourself.

“I know, princess,” he replied with an easy grin, “but I like doing it.”

ಇ

As time passed, your meetings became more frequent. The group hangouts gradually gave way to moments alone, and the relationship between you two became more comfortable and intimate. Being in each other’s company felt natural, easy, almost like an extension of everyday life. Mattheo’s behaviour grew more spontaneous, with fewer of the usual walls he built up when you were around. And it wasn’t just you who noticed; the entire group of friends could see it too.

One night, you were in Mattheo’s dorm. The atmosphere was calm and welcoming, with the scent of scented candles he’d started using now permanently filling the room. They were burning all around, three on the dresser and others on the bedside table. Meanwhile, Mattheo was rummaging through the wardrobe shelves and found a few hidden bottles. It was cheap wine that Theo had bought to settle a silly bet, but had forgotten there. Mattheo remembered it like it had happened yesterday. He looked at the bottle with a smile, laughing to himself. You raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

“I can’t believe you’re going to drink that,” you said, laughing lightly while lying on the black carpet in the middle of the room, fiddling with the radio.

Mattheo shrugged, flashing a carefree smile. “Of course I am, it’s here, right?”

You gave him a sceptical look, but couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity. “That’s a bit weird.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, walking over and sitting beside you, holding the bottle out. “Try it, go on.”

Hesitant, but tempted, you sat next to him, smiling nervously. You took the bottle from his hand, laughing before bringing it to your lips, keeping your eyes fixed on his.

After a bottle and a half shared between you, the effects of the wine were already clear. The conversation flowed easily, words coming out freely, and you both laughed at anything, letting yourselves enjoy the sense of freedom the moment brought.

Then Mattheo stood up, walked over to the radio, and adjusted the music. Fleetwood Mac, one of his favourite bands, and he knew it well. The soft notes filled the room, creating a relaxing and warm atmosphere. He smiled at you, stood up from the carpet, and waited for you to follow. “Don’t you want to dance?”

You looked at him hesitantly, but he was watching you as if daring you. It didn’t take long before you got up, still a bit loose from the alcohol, and started dancing awkwardly, singing along with Stevie Nicks, a silly grin on your face. Mattheo held your hands and settled on the bed, watching your dance. There was no pretension; it was a spontaneous dance, a bit off-beat, but genuine.

Mattheo watched you with a satisfied smile, but his gaze revealed something more. He saw you differently. You moved with clumsy grace, not caring about the rhythm, and he was completely captivated by the way you threw yourself into the moment, without a hint of self-consciousness. Your movements, though not sensual, were, in that instant, the most captivating thing he’d ever seen. You were so at ease, as if you were dancing just for him. And, in a way, you were.

You laughed, unaware of the effect you had, how your hair shone and moved perfectly with the rhythm of your motions. That sight, so natural, only drew him in more. When the music finally ended, you stopped, out of breath, and looked at him with a mischievous grin, holding onto his shoulders while he watched you from below, his expression one of admiration.

“See? Was this what you wanted?” you asked, regaining your composure, but with a faint blush on your cheeks.

“More than I expected.”

The music still filled the room, but slowly, it became a distant echo, overshadowed by the tension that now dominated the space. The air felt heavier, each heartbeat ringing in your ears as you locked eyes with him. Your hands still rested on his shoulders, and despite the relaxed smile that appeared on his face, there was something in Mattheo’s gaze that made the lightness of the moment take on a new weight.

His eyes were fixed on yours, serious, intense, filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. Something in that look seemed ready to spill over, and before you could even question it, the space between you two was vanishing. Mattheo moved, his strong hands reaching up to cradle your face, holding it with a gentleness that contrasted with the fervour in his expression. The world around you faded in the blink of an eye. No more cheap wine, no more candles, no more Stevie Nicks in the background. It was just the two of you.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, filling the silence between you. His gaze didn’t waver, and the proximity made each word feel even more intimate, almost like a confession. A shiver ran down your spine, but you didn’t respond. There were no words that could capture what was going through your mind.

When he finally closed the remaining space between you, his lips found yours, and everything seemed to fall into place. The kiss began firm but soon softened, as if he was exploring each detail, testing, savouring the moment with an almost palpable intensity.

His hands didn’t stay still. One slid to your waist, fingers slipping beneath your shirt, touching your warm skin with a mixture of firmness and care. The other moved up to your neck, fingers light as a caress, but determined, keeping you close, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t slip away.

When his lips left yours, it was only to trace a deliberate path along your jawline, down to the delicate spot on your neck, where he could feel your pulse quicken. Each kiss was meticulous, almost reverent, as you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation. The softness of his touch seemed to contradict the intensity he maintained with every movement, and it made the moment all the more overwhelming.

Then, unexpectedly, Mattheo made a quick movement, pulling you onto the bed.

He was firm, but careful, lying you down with precision and security, as if guiding you through a dance he had already mentally rehearsed. Your bodies moulded into the surroundings, as if the moment had been waiting for you both.

Mattheo pulled back slightly, his hands slowly lifting your shirt, with a near ceremonial slowness. There was no rush, just a clear intention in every gesture, as though he was absorbing the significance of what was happening. His eyes scanned your body, but not with haste or crude desire. There was something almost devotional in that gaze, something that made your breath quicken and slow at the same time.

His lips descended to your stomach, touching it with the lightness of a promise. Each kiss seemed to hold something unspoken, something long-kept. Mattheo's fingers traced slow paths along your skin, as though he wanted to memorise every detail, while you let out a sigh that seemed to echo in the intimacy of the room.

For a brief moment, he lifted his head, meeting your gaze. His eyes sparkled with a mix of desire and playfulness, and a light smile curved his lips before he leaned in again, the kisses resuming their course, now with even more care, as if each touch was a silent vow of adoration.