#and thought my tooth was cracked (it isn’t)

[l0stfoster]

As a Marcia x Two-Bit shipper, their entire relationship in Cursed Tulsa seems interesting. Do you have more information on it?

Just as Timewing got super excited about Darry, Novva got really excited about Mar-bit so I let her take the lead on this one.

Let it be known that Mar-bit itself isn’t set in stone to be canon, since we like to leave some of the stuff open for interpretation, but people are free to read into their relationship however they like; hence Novva’s explanation about them!! Like last time, Novva's bullet point for each section is the first one, and any comments of mine are the second bullet. The rest is below the cut >:)

How the relationship starts.

- Pretty obviously, it actually doesn’t even begin right off the bat. They really do start off as friends who kinda kiss in private. For a while, it was likely just a relationship that they would so subtly stare at each other respectfully but because of Social Norms, the whole Cursed thing, and Marcia’s reputation, they both essentially thought of each other as something they love but cannot have. (This is arguably the first time Marcia has had a relationship like this, where she cannot even enter a relationship with him without permanently damaging her reputation as a Soc.) When they do get together, it is likely months after the events of the book and when Two-Bit’s finally given the chance and beginning to digest and recover from the trauma he received at his jumping. Since Johnny’s got his mobility aids by now, the prosthetic is likely in the works, and Paul’s making up with Darry, gives Two the perfect opportunity to heal himself mentally and try to see if he can trust Marcia like how he once did. - Novva's spot on. Two doesn't even trust being around Marcia for the first few months post-jumping, but over time she finds a way to rebuild that bridge between them and they begin to bond again. He's still on edge, and freaks out anytime she touches his wings (whether accidental or purposeful), but he knows she's not trying to be malicious. My rough estimate is it's probably 5 or 6 months post-jumping that they give their relationship a chance; as it gives Two time to heal but also would give Marcia the chance to decide if she's willing to risk her reputation if word ever got out.

The cracks in the relationship.

- For instance; Two-Bit is terrified of being hurt again even though he knows Marcia wouldn’t hurt him like how her friends did. The jumping was an experience that traumatized him to the point of not even trusting his own mother for a while, and his mother wasn’t even there! How could he even trust his girlfriend, who was there and witnessed it all first-hand? Another crack is Marcia’s willingness. She fought tooth and nail for his trust and everything else and definitely wasn’t taking other’s bullshit. It uneased Two-Bit at first, seeing someone he thought was soft and innocent, full-on just beating up one of the many Socs who mutilated his wing and tortured him. He knows she means well, but isn’t it still scary to see it? - Yyyyeah Two was definitely super closed off and defensive for a long while, even when he watched her step up to his defense. Trust is a difficult thing to gain, and although she does get it back, he knows better than to give a soc that much leeway for a good while. The irrational part of his brain can't help but wonder if that attitude she holds against the socs who jumped him could be turned onto him as well; if that makes sense.

The relationship as a whole.

- They are very good for each other. They have a very similar sense of humor, regularly joke with each other, all that shit. (Someone referred to them as Brains ((Marcia)) and Brawn ((Two)) and definitely got punched though) Two-Bit is an affectionate person by nature and instinct, and Marcia just goes with the flow and will accept nearly everything given to her. - Novva's pretty spot on. The only thing I can say is that I doubt Two would care for the Brains and Brawn joke, it's probably Marcia upset on his behalf and he's just there like an unbothered king

The first time preening.

- It definitely comes as a surprise to Marcia. She knew the importance of preening for Harpy from Evie (they’re besties and I will fight you if you say they aren’t) but even then Evie doesn’t know much. Anyway, it was fully a surprise when the two were just cuddling and he asked. Mind you, at this point in time, Marcia had avoided so much as to brush a hand on the wings out of fear of him getting scared or even attacking her. It took about 20 or so minutes for Two-Bit to even so much as get used to Marcia’s touch, a touch he’d been terrified of at first. There were multiple times he flinched and she’d stop entirely. If you can’t tell yet I think about them a lot. And I also have more. #sedatemeplease It takes even LONGER to show PDA. Both of them love affection but are scared shitless of being jumped by someone over it. That doesn’t mean they won’t absolutely cuddle and softly kiss the shit out of the other if given the chance. No, they aren’t that couple that makes out in class but there's been a few instances where it got close to that /silly - I don't have much to comment on lmao, Two definitely had to be the one to propose preening compared to Marcia's offering, but he was definitely so on edge when he asked. Honestly, I can imagine they had 2 or 3 failed attempts to preen (where Two asked, they tried, and he got too freaked out to continue) but they did eventually figure it out <3. I think that Two was likely less anxious about PDA than Marcia since his nature as a flock creature makes him pretty clingy and a big affection fan, but he restrained more for the sake of her reputation.

The feather necklace.

- As stated before and in my doodles of it, the feather that Marcia was gifted is in fact, woven into the necklace itself (destroying the feather = destroying the entire necklace itself) It’s got some shiny parts in it, small beads or and other parts of jewelry that was taken actually from the little trinkets that Two’s given Marcia on her windowsill. Marcia did not break her own jewelry, her mother wouldn’t let her. Marcia was hesitant to wear it in public at first, that new but terrifying fear of having this taken away from her very much showing. She did keep it on her person though, it kept Two-Bit happy even if she wasn’t sure if it was safe to wear it yet. It was never safe to wear it in lmao. - I have nothing to add this is on the dot too LMAO.

MARCIA’S FIRST JUMPING!

- Taking this from Foster’s post, but Two was seriously pissed off and also scared shitless for her. While she was on a walk, for a while he would fly behind her and would swoop down to pick her up if he saw ANY Soc car slow down near her. Eventually, she was able to take walks without his dive-bombing, but she was forced to take a weapon in case things got out of hand. And he absolutely got other Harpies involved. Angela Shepard herself might not like Marcia all that much due to her being a Soc, but she was absolutely hell-bent on torturing Bev for weeks. Bev’s tires were slashed, and she got jumped for the first time and had it arguably worse, but the message was delivered either way. Evie also definitely took part in intimidating Bev in the jumping. - Nothing to add, the girls look out for each other <3 As they should.

[magpie-to-the-morning]

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[rotthepoet]

Fight - M.Riddle

Summary: Mattheo Riddle breaks your nose, and he kinda feels bad about it.

~2.3k words

Content: Modern Au, Characters are 18+, No use of Y/N, No determined house, Mattheo doesn't like using his words, descriptions of fighting and blood, maybe ooc everyone? dunno this fandom is weird i love it, mention of drug use(tobacco, weed, alcohol), Mattheo's love language is acts of service and gift giving fight me, rushed ending sorry chat i'm getting back into writing again, not proof read

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Violence isn’t something I’m particularly fond of. Not for any reason, but I suppose you really don’t need a reason to hate something so savage. I don’t like action movies, the idea of contact sports and martial arts in the muggle world is barbaric to me, and even watching beaters and chasers hurdle towards each other on the Quidditch pitch makes me cringe.

Hogwarts is full of many fights. They're unavoidable, I suppose. Occasionally, the more disorderly underclassmen will break out into a wizard’s duel. Bright flashes of light and the screams of ignorantly casted hexes will draw onlookers nearby, blocking up the already crowded hallways with a ring of students encouraging their peers with reckless abandon. In fact, there were rumors of a secret dueling club that had been organizing these fights for centuries.

However, there are only so many different hexes and jinxes to terrorize and entertain your classmates with before things become… stale. This conundrum, along with unstable hormones, had sparked a new infatuation among Hogwarts upperclassmen.

Fist-fights.

The idea was childish. Any problem imaginable could be sorted with words, or even wands, and yet both boys and girls fought nail, tooth, and, claw just for an ounce of respect. Maybe an ounce of attention. If I remember right, even an ounce of weed (This was the day many students had to undergo a veritaserum-induced interrogation.) . It was foolish, and oftentimes fights were shut down by the hands of professors within moments.

That did not seem to be the case today.

As if by some miracle, or in my case a misfortune, professors seemed to be distinctly absent from the hallways in which Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott, seventh year Slytherin’s and star quidditch players, beat each other into a pulp.

And by my luck, I was stuck at the barricade of sorts, facing the fight without obstruction as my peers tried to press closer, obscuring my exit from the situation.

The two of them screamed about who-knows-what, and they flashed between the floor and standing upright. The two of them sauntered and stumbled around, each collision of fist to skin sent my stomach reeling with nausea.

Theodore’s lip was busted and an uncomfortable looking bruise was already forming around his eye. He shrugged-more-so ripped- his robe off and swung wildly at Mattheo, making him back up.

Now, Mattheo Riddle is a tall man. A solid 6 foot if not taller, muscular build after a few years on the Slytherin’s Quidditch team. He was not someone you would want to stand up against, or really be near in general.

The crowd collectively gasped and hollered as he stumbled backwards, right towards me. Against the thick wall of students, I had no where to go. He swung his arm back, fast and powerful.

The sickening crack was all I could hear. Then all I could see were his angry eyes widening in realization that he had hit something other than Theodore. His head swiveled around, and I almost thought he would apologize before a blow landed in his gut, leaving him to curl over and writhe in pain on his knees. At this point, I believe Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had forced themselves into the ring to separate Riddle and Nott.

I don’t remember falling backwards, but I was in the strong hands of another classmate while a few people asked if I was okay. I tasted blood on my lips. Tears slipped down my cheeks heavy and hot, and blood dripped profusely from my nose.

It was Pansy Parkinson that escorted be to the hospital wing.

Pansy was a pretty girl, black hair, silver jewelry, and eyes sharper than a new blade. She wasn’t the most approachable girl I had ever spoken to, but after an assigned pairing in potions, we had become quite the duo. She rambled on about how she’ll have ‘Matt’ apologize, and how ‘the boys’ were going to be in so much shit.

My nose was broken, fixed with a simple, “Episkey!”, from Madam Promfrey, and I was sent on my merry way with Pansy at my side. She, and I do mean this fondly, droned on about how sorry she was( “Pansy, I said it was fine.” “No, it isn’t fine! Those nitwits could have done far worse-“) and how she’ll have Riddle pay me back.

“Really, he is a nice guy!”

“So I’ve heard…” I mumbled, a migraine settling in, and I had half a mind to turn back around to the hospital wing and demand enough tonic to let me sleep for a week.

“Why don’t I just take you back to my dorm and we can watch a movie, eat a few snacks. I still have a ton a chocolate frogs left from our last sleepover.”

I sighed, and gave a small smile. I didn’t really feel like it, but if it would make dear Pansy stop worrying, I folded.

The Slytherin dungeons were oddly warm considering being so far underneath the Black Lake. The stained glass casted rays of green and blue lighting among the common room, and fish swam past the great windows. The common room was nearly empty save for a few students among the chairs reading, a couple playing wizard chess, and a small group of familiar faces occupying the couches in front of the fire place.

The first to turn around was Blaise Zabini, and he greeted Pansy with a smile, then turned to me with a small wince. “How're you feeling?”

“Better now. Thank you.”

Zabini nodded, turning his gaze back to the ever incessantly whining Malfoy. Pansy rolled her eyes, and I could feel the ‘he turned me into a lesbian,’ building in her chest. We retired to her room before her own cat-fight could break out

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It was around 2 am when we emerged from Pansy’s room again, both hungry and unable to sleep even after indulging in far too many sweets. She took my hand, racing me down flights of stairs until we stumbled back into the common room with a small giggle that abruptly stopped at the sight of the same group of boys on the couch. Two new heads had joined the count, and simultaneously each turned to face the two of us.

I locked eyes with Mattheo Riddle, and he looked away.

Fucking dick.

“What was it this time?” Pansy broke the silence, dragging me to the couch now. She sat at the end, myself in the middle, and coincidentally, Riddle on my other side.

Theodore Nott, who sat across the center table from Riddle, nursing his swollen eye with an ice bag answered. “He broke my pipe.”

Mattheo Riddle rolled his eyes, “I said I'm sorry and I'll pay you back." He snapped, and Nott yelled something about that being his favorite glass.

Pansy tsk’d them, reaching for the bowl of fruit on the table, plucking herself an apple and offering me an orange. My nails, cut short due to nervous picking and biting, dug at the thick skin. I lifted my head only when I heard my name being spoken, and I met Nott’s gaze.

“How’s your nose?”

I swore he made a snide glance at Riddle, who visibly tense and turned farther away from me.

“It’s fine. Easily fixed.” I turned my gaze back to the orange, biting my cheek in frustration as my nail continued to slip from the peel. A blush rose to my cheeks in frustration.

“So it was broken. You need to watch where you’re swinging those damn elbows, Riddle.”

Riddle gave Nott the finger, and the company around us laughed. I laughed along, but sighed as I ultimately gave up trying to peel the orange. Pathetic. At least no one had seemed to notice or care.

“No one would have gotten hurt had you not been a little bitch.” Snapped Mattheo to Theodore, and his bruised hand grabbed the orange from my own so quickly I almost didn’t realize it had happened.

His fingers worked swiftly, removing the skin of the fruit before he put it back in my hands. He stood up, “I’m sick of your shit, going to bed. Don’t make too much noise when you come up.” He mumbled, and Theodore rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist, princess.”

I stared down at the peeled orange in my hand. Slowly, I pulled a carpel from the rest of the fruit.

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Things had seemed to turn around for me, lately.

Maybe it was a lucky streak, but the bench I frequented in my free time to read had been consistently available despite being a popular spot most days. Along with that, My favorite seat in History of Magic, which had been unrightfully stolen by a group of friends, had been returned to me (It was my favorite because it's located on the far back wall, perfect for an unseen nap). I even walked into potions and found a little note of all the questions that were to be asked during the class, and all of their answers.

Pansy laid her head in my lap, whining about a girl she was pining for, while I flipped through pages of an uninteresting book on potion ingredients. She sat up slowly, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. "It's the weekend, what are we doing here? Lets go for a walk." she urged, and I grabbed my bag and followed. We walked through hallways mindlessly, chatting about the most recent rumors.

There was a yell from down the hall as we turned a corner, and before either of us could look, a body came hurdling into mine. I fell to the ground, hard enough that the air was knocked from my lungs. I gasped desperately, tears rushing to my eyes at the sudden pain of hard stone on my back, and a massive body on top of me.

It pushed itself up onto its hands, hovering over me.

I looked Mattheo Riddle square in the eye, and I could see the color drain from his face.

"Well? Get off of her!" I heard Pansy shriek, and once he had moved, Pansy helped me off the ground. I looked up at her, smiling in thanks, before I met Mattheo Riddle's gaze again. He stared at me for a moment longer, opening his mouth to say something. He shut it again, and turned away. Zabini raced around the corner, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

"You beat her up again?"

The look Mattheo gave Blaise sent a chill down my spine.

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The next day, Pansy and I found a box of chocolates outside of my dorm.

"Someone has a secret admirer!" She chimed in a sing-song voice.

I blushed a little bit at the notion. It was nice to think, but I insisted it was left at the wrong door and we should leave it. After much convincing, Pansy folded.

"I'm sure it's meant for you. You're probably hurting someone's feelings," She sighed.

"Then they should have left a note."

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It was frigid outside, the wind nipping at my nose, and I pulled my scarf further over my face. The courtyard was empty, most everyone opting to hide away in the warmth of their common rooms, and I started to feel like a fool for daring to come outside. At least it was quiet. I collected my bag, sliding my books into their place when the crunch of snow behind me sent be jumping in surprise.

I whipped my head around and audibly gasped when I met dark brown eyes.

"Do you not like chocolate?"

The question took me off guard, and I obviously took too long to answer when Mattheo started talking again.

"It's fine if you don't. I didn't really know what you would have liked," Mattheo rubbed his hands together, suddenly looking anywhere but at me. He looked nervous. Was Mattheo Riddle nervous?

"Just… It was an…" he stumbled over his words, scratching at his palm. "Y'know… Merlin, will you just say something?" he snapped, tugging on his scarf.

I couldn't help but stare at him. He looked so.. small.

"You got me chocolate?"

"Did… you not get it? I left it outside of your door."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Mattheo Riddle had gotten me chocolates. Why? "I didn't think they were for me."

"Why wouldn't they have been?"

"I thought someone had just left them at the wrong door."

Mattheo looked appalled at the very notion. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep, frustrated breath. "Why would I have left chocolates outside of anyone else's door?"

"You didn't leave a note. I didn't know who they were for, or what they were for, or if they were poisoned!"

Mattheo groaned, mumbling something about Zabini lying when he said girls were clever, "Well they were for you! To… apologize! For breaking your nose, and then knocking you over, and what I was doing before just didn't seem like enough!"

My mouth felt dry, and I shook my head. "What you were doing before? You could have just said sorry!"

Mattheo sighed, "The.. the seats in class- I had detention for weeks because I knew you liked napping in history of magic, and you were struggling in potions- and.. Really I deserve a 'thank you'!"

"Well then, Thank you."

A blush crept up to Matheo's cheeks, though I'm sure it was just the cold getting to him.

"I'm sorry."

I smiled, reaching to grab my bag off of the bench. "I forgive you."

Mattheo grabbed the bag before I could, and I looked up at him in confusion as he slung it over his shoulder. 'I'll carry it for you," Is all he mumbled while pulling his scarf tighter around his red face.

[gothicflowers]

Domestic Price headcanons!! ON MY HANDS AND KNEES!!!

Domestic!Price x F!reader

WARNING MDNI (+18 ONLY)

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff, some sexual references.

Word Count: ? So many

Sorry this took me forever to write, the past month has been insane. But things are finally getting better and I’m feeling creative.

Domestic!Price isn’t someone that many are familiar with. Especially those he works with. When price joined the military he was a teen who was in the punk scene and he couldn’t hold a job for more than a month. The man was running from the cops and passed out at random houses half the week. By six pm there was liquor on his breath. His dear mom had enough one day and kicked him out. When he stumbled through the front door she had a suitcase full of his good clothes packed and handed him a small amount of cash. He told her he didn’t care and he didn’t need her. After two months of couch surfing and working odd end jobs for cash he seen something about enlisting in the military. Free housing, consistent pay and a uniform. John knew he could pick up girls easily with a uniform on, easier than his charming personality already could.

Six months later he’s in basic training regretting his decision to join. He came into basic training more out of shape than he thought. He hates reading and is having to study and sit through classes when he’s not being drilled. But by week five somehow he’s leading the class. Perfect scores on test, marksmanship skills are undeniably good, and maybe that mandatory haircut doesn’t look too bad.

He graduated top of his academy class with flying colors. Five years later price has slowed worked his way up the chain. He’s still a cocky bastard but nobody can deny his knowledge of strategies and tactics. He’s a hard ass to new guys but ensures they are well trained, after all John is a firm believer that you’re only as good as your weakest guy.

After two years of being in he realized his mom was right. So on one of his days off he showed up to his moms with flowers and sweets and apologized and thanked her for giving him the push he needed. Even if he didn’t realize it at the time.

John Price has finally got his life together. But he’s still a playboy who doesn’t see the point in setting down with a nice lady. He has time right?

Before he knows it LT John Price in his early thirties. Nobody to come home to every night actually sucks. Too much beer gives him a headache and he’s not much for parties anymore. He’s picked up a few hobbies like leather-working and fishing, but there is still a void in his life. Price is… alone.

John didn’t fear commitment, but young John didn’t see how keeping a woman by his side would benefit him then. John wishes he could go back in time and smack himself for all the times he turned down sweet kind women who wanted to settle down. He broke so many hearts, all because he thought he had time.

That’s when he starts daydreaming. Thoughts of walking through the front door and being greeted by his lover and maybe even a dog or two. Summers nights stargazing rather than slouched on the couch with a beer in hand. Having purpose, a life outside of his job. So he put the effort into making a dating profile and goes on a few dates. A few horrible dates. So he deleted the profile and slowly gave up.

Then one day you cashed into his life, well... technically he did.

Literally.

John wasn’t paying attention while backing his car out at the supermarket and backed right into your car. Your bumper was deeply scratched and your taillight cracked. You both pulled back into your parking spaces to look at the damage. Before you knew it the idiot driver that backed into you was next to you profusely apologizing. The man had tired eyes and looked defeated at his careless actions. You couldn’t deny that the idiot was incredibly handsome.

“I’m so sorry, I should have looked in my mirror and I didn’t and I-“ John rambled.

“Don’t worry, this car has more scratches than I care to count” you replied giggling.

John was clearly struggling to talk as he was distracted by your beautiful face “I completely busted that taillight. Ma’am I’m so sorry. I can get my insurance and we can get this sorted”

“Well it’s a rather old car, so I have a better proposition” you smiled watching the mountain of a man remove his beanie to rub his hair.

“What would that be” he asked.

You smirked “Well there is a cafe on the corner. You look like you could use a coffee and so could I. We go have a nice cup, sit down like old friends and chat. Look online for a taillight replacement instead of getting insurance involved”.

You pleasantly surprised John and he agreed to your idea. Firstly because he hates dealing with paperwork and secondly because this beautiful creature wanted to actually talk to him. Somehow you two just clicked.After two hours of nonstop chatting and learning about each other John received a call from work demanding him to come in on his day off. Unfortunately closing your time together.

“Well I quite enjoyed this. And if you’re comfortable with it I can install that taillight when it comes in. I would hate for you to do it yourself. And maybe after I can take you out to dinner” John said, getting a little shy with his last sentence. He was praying he didn’t misinterpret and scare you off.

“What a gentleman. I would love that” you eagerly answered. You wrote down your number for him on a napkin.

(000)-000-0000

Y/N xoxo

A broken taillight is the beginning of Domestic!Price

About a week later John arrived on your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, a tool bag and a new taillight. He was a tad bit nervous hoping to make a good impression.

Domestic!Price is the definition of chivalry.

He opens all doors for you and is quick to lend you his coat if you show the slightest signs of a chill.

Before you know it John brings you fresh flowers every week. Your grandmother always told you the stronger the intentions the longer the flowers will last. And the flowers John brings you live for what seems like an eternity.

As much as John wants to move fast he forces himself to slow his pace. He feels the need to prove he’s the gentleman you deserve. Especially after learning about your shitty dating experiences.

Even when he brought you home from your first date he only left with a kiss. Granted it was a long passionate kiss, but just a kiss. He’d desperately wanted to tear your clothes off in that moment, but didn’t want to give off the impression that he expected it. He said goodnight and left. You were kinda shocked that you two didn’t fuck, you took an everything shower and had lingerie under your outfit. But it was actually refreshing to find a man that was satisfied with just a kiss. He wasn’t putting on an act the whole night to get lucky, he was genuinely interested in you.

His good morning texts always arrive to your phone around 5:45AM. John did warn you beforehand that he frequently is away from his phone during meetings and trainings so you never worry about him ignoring or long awaited responses.

John will wake up before you regardless of the day. He’s usually found making coffee/tea and breakfast somewhere around 08:30. He usually brings it all up to bed on a tray. Heaven forbid he lets you lift a finger this early. Every morning you both snuggle with your coffee and listen to the birds chirping outside the window.

Domestic!Price is not very good at cooking, breakfast and desserts are the only things you let him make. Mostly because he’s surprisingly good at making them. You always tell him if he leaves the military he should be a pastry chef. Price likes comfort food, hardy meals that almost make him fall asleep afterwards. He’s in denial about gaining 15 pounds since he met you. But he feels that the extra pounds are just the extra love you gave him to carry around. He had to go down a notch on his belt because he’s got a little love handle to him now. You feed him well.

Football is his thing. Price is very passionate about it but thankfully he’s calm about it, he knows you don’t do well with yelling in the house. Usually takes you to a couple games a season. You two have matching jerseys, yes he had them custom made.

He hates messy. When he first joined the military he had two roommates that never picked up after themselves, neither did he. Until one day he found a molded plate in between the couch cushions, he started to become a clean freak after that. He moved out a few months later when his roommate’s wouldn’t clean up their mess.

Nowadays Domestic!Price loves a clean home. He made a chore list for both of you. He always helps you with your chores despite you telling him to relax. He loves candles and the smell of fresh sheets. Price wasn’t very organized before he met you, thankfully you managed to get the home organized and he can find everything now.

IKEA who? Never head of her. Domestic!price likes wood working. The kitchen table, cabinets, china hutch and so much more was all hand made by price. But the most elaborate thing he’s ever made? The bed frame. It has some… flair as he called it when it was finally put together. The frame has secret pockets for rope to be tied to. Specifically so he can tie you down. And let’s not forget that makeup vanity he made you, that mirror is a lockable cabinet containing a whirlwind of things. Vibes, clamps, ropes, differently shaped dildos, paddles, you name it it’s in there. Why is there two smoke alarms in your bedroom? Well… one of the is just a cover for that ceiling hook so he can suspend you.

Domestic price doesn’t mind vanilla sex. Lots of times you two disregard the kinky objects and are just wrapped in a passionate embrace. John’s not one for staying quiet, both of you could be heard from the front door when you’re together. He will be soundproofing the room if you two decide on kids.

Speaking of kids this man has the biggest breeding kink known to man. It’s not seeing his cum dripping out of your hole that fuels the fire in his belly. It’s the sheer thought of you both sitting around the dinner table with your kids asking each other about their day. Dance recitals and little league games. Watching you being a loving parent and having everything you need. That’s what he desires out of life.

Domestic!Price craves domestic life. Where there’s no threat, no bogeyman in the closet, no sound of gunfire, there’s just you two and the home you created.

John always drives, you’re a passenger princess. If it’s a nice day he takes you out for a drive in his classic car he restored himself. Windows down while 2000’s dad rock plays. Speaking of music he likes to collect vinyls. His collection grew heavily when he started buying records that you like. He plays Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors album weekly.

Domestic!Price likes slow dancing with the lights dimmed late at night. He’s a fan of 70’s music and it’s his usual go to for dancing. His father heavily influenced his music taste.

Price doesn’t care for the term boyfriend. After about a month of you two dating he promoted himself to husband. John said boyfriend “sounds childish at our age” when you asked sweetly what that was about when he introduced himself to your coworkers. He said he wouldn’t do it again if it made you uncomfortable to which you promptly said you liked it and much preferred the idea of being his wife rather than his girlfriend. That night he started looking at rings.

He went through your jewelry taking note if you wore gold or silver more. What types of jewelry styles interested you. The man was on a mission for the perfect ring. And what doesn’t it matter if you two have only been together two months? His grandparents met and married after three months and they were the definition of true love.

And yes he did propose at only four months. It was better than you could have imagined. He planned a whole weekend getaway and you never suspected it. He had rented a private boat for you two and brought champagne and charcuterie. He proposed a toast to you two and got down on one knee. You were both crying tears of joy when you said yes.

Unlike most men who buy their significant other jewelry he doesn’t buy you stones. Pearls, he buys you pearls. Expensive ones too. There’s just something about them on your neck that drives him wild. He hasn’t made the connection but it feeds into his housewife kink. There is something about him coming home from a long day and seeing you in a dress wearing those peals and an apron. A hot meal and the table is already set. You take his coat off and asking him about his day. Perfection.

Domestic!Price doesn’t share much about work. You know what he does and the stresses. He listened to your advice and does some therapy to help deal with his stress levels and the things he’s gone through. He slowly starts thinking about transferring to a job that won’t put him in the field.

He invited the boys over for dinner and his men were quite shocked. John didn’t give them much notice or anything really other than “don’t be late”.

Gaz who showed up in a tracksuit was under the impression this was a boys night with pizza and beer was shocked to arrive at a beautiful home with a perfect garden of roses. Ghost knew of your existence quite well as price loves to talk about your cooking and how much he misses you when they deploy. Soap… well… he said some things in Gaelic that you didn’t understand but surely they were those of surprise. Soap felt like a dumbass for wearing jeans and a cutoff tee.

John met them at the door and welcomed them in. The boys were rather impressed by the decor and how cozy it looked. The men half expected the home to be bare as they never took price as one for decor. But the biggest shock to Soap and Gaz was you, a woman slightly younger than Price who was in cooking in the kitchen is a pretty dress, heels and pearls. Even though Ghost was aware of your existence he was floored at how Price could pull such a beautiful woman.

Price proudly introduced you with his are around you lower back. After pleasantries they all offered to help you finish cooking, to which you laughed and said no. Even price shook his head because he knows you have your process of cooking and don’t like extra hands because it overwhelms you. And when you brought them a tray of neatly made drinks you have sworn Soap about died. No wonder Price always comes to work in a good mood, he’s got a pretty bird like you at home.

After seeing what his captains life is like outside of work it gave him some hope, maybe it’s possible to have a stable relationship with this job. Soap made a joke about “sharing”. That was the first time Price ever thought of beating Soap into the ground. Price is too proud of the life he daydreamed about to let another man or woman come into the picture. Just the thought of losing you or your lips kissing anyone but his will send him into a spiral. You’re his world. His to love, fuck, and protect.

Domestic!Price likes to slow down when he’s not at work. Life at a slower pace is more enjoyable. He can take in the sweet moments and the sunshine. He slowly starts bringing Simon and the boys around more and they too realize this.

Domestic!price doesn’t fully understand social media. He isn’t on any, most because of his job. Plus he doesn’t like how fake people are on it. He lets you post pictures of you two together but his face is always uniquely hidden, for your own protection of course. The first picture you posted of you two was actually from your wedding. You both walked together hand in hand as he was kissing your temple. After that you received several calls and texts from old friends and distant relatives asking when did you get married? Who is he? Where did you two meet?

Speaking of yours and prices wedding domestic Price was very involved in the planning. He found the most beautiful venue and really liked picking florals. I mean this man went over budget because he wanted the most elegant and elaborate flower arrangements. If you have any cultural customs John was very adamant that your customs would be met to your specifications.

Unfortunately John’s family is a handful and wanted to plan the wedding, his mother thought it was her big day. John sat her down and had a long conversation about boundaries and respect towards his soon to be wife. She actually apologized as she didn’t realize how much she was overstepping. Your mother was shocked that John was very involved with the planning, but it made her adore him even more.

You both have relatively large families but decided to keep the guests list under sixty people. Only close family and friends. This ruffled some feathers but it made for a perfect day. John is very good at controlling his emotions but when he seen you walk down the aisle his eyes welled with tears.

Domestic!Price can’t wear his ring to work. He wanted to tattoo a ring or your name somewhere on him but still feared it could be used as easy leverage. So he has a large chest tattoo that incorporates your favorite flowers and bird. In fact he starts slowing getting tattoos about you. It’s his way of keeping you with him when he’s gone.

[charlottesbookclub]

ser gwayne hightower fluff alphabet 💚💚

Summary: just what it says on the tin: fluff alphabet for my boy gwayne (do people still do these anymore? idc I'm doing it bc I love reading them and I thought I'd try writing one myself 😌😌)

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; spouse!reader; established relationship (marriage); we are all going to have fluff-induced cavities after this, I fear (it's more absolute tooth-rotting fluff, y'all!); let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2985

Author’s Note: I'm meeting with my phd advisor today which is going to be totally fine (she is so super sweet) but my brain decided we were going to have major anxiety about it, and what better way to distract myself than by writing fluff for gwayne!! 🥰💚 I've never done one of these before, but I always enjoyed reading them, so I thought I'd try it myself! ☺️ I like that it lets me explore his character without having the pressure of a plot lol

as always, I hope y'all enjoy and feel free to let me know your thoughts!! ☺️💕

template by: magical-warlock

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Honestly anything. I feel like if it was something you enjoyed, Gwayne would find himself enjoying it too, just because you were happy. But I think like he would really like going on leisurely walks or horse rides together. It’s an activity that allows you to talk and get to know one another, but where you can also explore the beauty of a garden or forest together. I could totally see him bringing a book along and reading it aloud to you under a tree.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Everything lmao. But your eyes stand out to him, especially when he can read all the things you don’t say out loud in them. I feel like he would also appreciate intellect, common sense, and wit. He is clearly sooooo done with Criston’s weird dumb bullshit, and I think someone who was rational and level-headed but not afraid to crack a joke or two (especially at Criston’s expense lmaooooo) would be really appealing to him.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

My mans would not be much help at first because he’s freaking out too. He wouldn’t want to see you in any kind of distress, especially if he’s not sure where it came from or what’s causing it. I think if it happened more than once and you talked about it and expressed what you needed, he would be more than willing to do whatever you needed from him. My sense is that his first reaction (after the initial freak out) would just be to hold you really tightly and whisper reassurances to you until you were feeling better.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Given the society that Gwayne lives in, his expectations have kind of been set for him in the sense that his future is pretty much expected to involve marriage and children. And honestly, I get the sense that this isn’t something he’s necessarily opposed to. Especially since he found you and realizes he gets to marry someone he actually loves, he’d be pretty thrilled about the whole prospect. It just doesn’t seem like life on miliary campaign is something he’s super jazzed about, so his ideal future would likely be just settling down with you in Oldtown. 

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

I think it’s pretty mixed, especially depending on the context. Again, given the societal expectations placed on him, I do think he might tend to be a little more dominant (especially if he thinks/knows that he’s right about something) but I also don’t think he would ever force you to do something you didn’t want to. He’d also back off on just about any subject if he noticed you were getting upset about it. I also think it really depends on your temperament, since I think he could really go either way depending on what energy you brought to the relationship.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

It would be really hard for him to stay mad at you (and vice versa). Unless it was something truly awful, I just don’t think he could stay upset with you for very long. As we’ve already established, he’s a pretty rational person who seems to value clear communication, so I think “fights” with him would be more like difficult discussions about hard issues rather than an actual fight. This is really nice because then you both get to speak your mind and actually come out with a better understanding of the other person and a stronger relationship because of it.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

I do tend to think that he’s a pretty grateful person, but I think he’s better at showing it than saying it sometimes. Not that he can’t verbalize his gratitude – he totally can – I just think that gestures come more naturally to him (like winning a tourney in your honor, buying you something extravagant, taking you on a nice trip, etc.)

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Yes and no. If there was something he knew that would put you in danger if you knew it, he would not tell you. He would never forgive himself if something happened as a result. Pretty much anything else though, he’ll tell you. He won’t always offer everything, but I think he would have a hard time lying to you or keeping things from you if you asked about them. Depending on what it was, he might tell you a sanitized version of the story because he doesn’t want you to worry, but he’d be as honest as he felt he could be in the moment.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

I think in any good relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) people change each other for the better. Gwayne is no exception to this, and I think it’s likely that he picks up habits from you (just as you do from him). I can definitely see that if he had you as a confidante to rant about Criston or just to express his worries and doubts about politics, his family, etc. that he might be a little less overtly antagonistic and instead might just smile and nod a little more but internally be like “wait til my s/o hears about this fucking bullshit.” He’d definitely still give Critston attitude tho

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Yes and no. Gwayne is a fairly confident person, and I think he feels pretty comfortable with himself and with his relationship with you for the most part. However, I don’t think he’s immune to jealously, especially if it were to seem like another person was paying you a bit too much attention. In that scenario, I’m sure he’d have some quip at that person’s expense and whisk you away or be very obvious about using your title as his spouse. The one thing that might make him feel truly insecure is if it seemed like you were becoming interested in someone else. But let’s be real, if you get to marry Ser Gwayne Hightower, that’s not fucking happening 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Oh, he’s definitely a good kisser. I don’t think he was one to have a lot of trysts prior to meeting you (despite his bravado, I think he really values an emotional or intellectual connection to the person he’s with, meaning I don’t think many of the flings he might have had made it all the way to the hook-up stage). But he’s a handsome man who likely had a lot of admirers, and I do think he got a bit of practice with kissing in his youth. He’s absolutely very attentive to what you like, so I think he’s only gotten to be an even better kisser over the course of your relationship. In terms of your first kiss with him, these lyrics from “All My Love” by Noah Kahan are very applicable here: “I leaned in for a kiss thirty feet from where your parents slept / and I looked so confident, babe / I swear, I was scared to death.” Especially early on, I think he really wanted to project this confident and suave vibe that he totally knew what he was doing, but as soon as he realized he was in love with you, he was actually a nervous wreck and desperately did not want to mess it up. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

re: Gwayne’s penchant for gestures, I have a feeling he had a whole well-written speech planned out (he based it on the dramatic love confessions he read in old ballads). However, despite all his preparation, I think the confession actually ended up just slipping out one time when you were together and he couldn’t keep it in any longer. He probably stumbled over his words and was very embarrassed about it and his face turned bright pink, but it was so adorable and endearing that you actually preferred it to whatever speech he might have had planned.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the wedding be like?

As I mentioned above, I think that marriage is pretty much a given for Gwayne considering the realities of the culture in which he lives. He also probably didn’t propose in the traditional sense, since the marriage was likely arranged, but I can absolutely envision him proposing to you privately after the betrothal has been officially announced and after he’s spent enough time with you to realize that he is genuinely in love with you. It would be sort of a love confession/proposal where he basically says “I know you were chosen by others to be my spouse, but I also personally choose you because I love you.” The wedding would be fairly large and befitting of his rank and station, and it’s likely that neither of you would have much choice in how it was conducted. Gwayne definitely likes the idea of a large and fairly public wedding because it’s a way for him to show his pride for both his house and his betrothed.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Very sweet things! Mostly “my dear,” “my love,” and “dearheart,” with a sprinkle of “my darling” mixed in on occasion.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

He gets very love-struck, especially when he’s with you. Spending time with you is like spending time in another world for him, and I do think he becomes a little more uninhibited when he’s around you. If people watch the two of you together, his lovesickness is pretty obvious to anyone who knows him. Even if they speak to just him, they might notice slight changes, like the fact that he talks about you a lot and always finds a way to bring you into the conversation. He’s careful though, and would never reveal the depths of his affection for you to someone who might you it against him or hurt you to get back at him. In terms of expressing feelings, as I mentioned above, I get the sense that he’s one for gestures that demonstrate his feelings. He gets nervous and stumbles over his words more than usual when he tries to verbalize things to you, and that’s an unusual and uncomfortable experience for him at first. The longer you’re together though, the better he gets at it.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag about their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Because your betrothal and marriage are pretty much public knowledge, Gwayne definitely feels comfortable being upfront about the relationship. And oh he totally brags. He’s very proud to call you his spouse and is not afraid to make sure everyone knows about it. Based on societal and cultural expectations, I don’t think there would be a lot of open PDA (like hugs, kisses on the lips, etc.). But hand kisses?????????? All the fucking time babeyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! So many kisses on the knuckles wherever and whenever – it’s his favorite little gesture of affection

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Mans is a killer shit talker. We know this. He can and will throw shade with the best of them. He wants to know all the drama in your friend circle and will happily judge everyone with you for hours. That one “friend” of yours who turned out to be wildly toxic and conniving? Well he never liked them anyway and he’s got a bulletpointed list of reasons why. You start a conversation with “can I be mean for a moment?” or “you know I love this person, but…” and he is SAT. He’s always on your side and ready to talk absolute shit about anyone who caused you even a minor inconvenience. 

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

At the end of the day, he’s something of a hopeless romantic and would do whatever he could to make you happy. There are a lot of times when the cultural and societal realities of the world he lives in prevent him from doing everything he might want, but if it came down to it, he would do almost anything for you. A lot of his romantic gestures are a little cliché, but in the best, most endearing way possible. As he gets to know you though, and as your relationship matures, he’ll probably get a little more creative and do things that are more specific to the two of you.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Believes in you and supports you 100000% no question. Again though, I think this impulse can be a bit hampered by the social structures in which he lives. He’ll do whatever he can to help you achieve your goals, but there are limits based on birth, status, etc. that you are both cognizant of and which might influence what those goals look like and how far either of you would go to achieve them.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

We’re talking about Ser “I’d rather stay at a comfy inn than camp out” Gwayne Hightower here – I think he appreciates a level of routine and comfort. There’s so much in his world that is chaotic and out of his control that I think he would really relish having that consistency and stability in his relationship. Not that he would never try anything new – especially if you asked him to – I just think his natural inclination would be to have a comforting routine that works for both of you.

U nderstanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Considering he picked up on Alicent and Criston’s weird vibes in like 5 seconds, I’d say he’s pretty good at reading people. He definitely makes an effort to get to know you, and can confidently say that he knows you very well at this point. Especially since you’re someone he cares about and spends a lot of time with, he’s quite good at reading your moods and guessing how you’re feeling.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is its worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Very important. Again though, there are cultural expectations placed on both of you that may necessitate you and Gwayne placing your relationship further down your list of priorities than you normally would choose to. If it were completely up to him though, his relationship with you would be right up there at the top with his loyalty to his house and his family.

W ild Card - A random fluff headcanon

I talked about this much more extensively in this fic, but the necklace you gave him? He. Does. Not. Take. It. Off. EVER. It’s his little piece of you that he gets to carry everywhere, and he could never ever bear to part with it.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private, abso-fucking-lutely! As I mentioned in the PDA section, he’s more retrained in public, but still likes to demonstrate his affection for you via hand kisses. In private though, he loves to cuddle. And honestly, he doesn’t really care where or in what position – curled up in bed, sprawled on a couch, his head in your lap, you tucked against his chest – he just likes to be touching you and knowing that you’re right there next to him, that you’re safe, and that you love him.

Y earning - How do they cope when they’re missing their partner?

It’s a reality he has to face more than he would like, given the exterior expectations placed on him. If he had his way, he would live quietly with you at his family’s property near Oldtown forever. When he has to leave though, he always asks for your favor to take with him, regardless of how long you’ve been together or how many times you’ve bestowed it. As mentioned above, he also always wears the necklace you gave him. Definitely a top tier professional yearner though – he misses you and thinks of you the whole time he’s gone.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

This answer will be pretty similar to the answer for “V” – yes he is, but he also has to be cognizant of outside pressures that might cause him to act in ways that don’t always align with his personal inclinations. He would both die and kill for you though, not that you’re asking him to do either. In fact, you’re usually telling him not to do either of those things.

[comfortless]

sylly (like silly yk yk) what are your könig hcs? 🌹

SYLLY?! i…. Ok…. fair warning this is a little long… all that i do is think about this guy someone get him out of my head.

tread carefully reading this! there is a lot of sensitive content here: mental health stuff, abuse, mentions of sex and pornographic material, suicidal ideation, etc etc.

Generic, silly headcanons:

He prefers coffee (black) over tea, but he does have a bit of a sweet tooth (will never resist caramel if it’s presented to him). Honestly, he’s pretty self-reliant when it comes to food, too. On lazy days, he makes enough to where a takeout bill is hardly a concern, but for the most part he cooks! Not a chef by any means, but nothing he ever makes is bad!

Definitely wants a big, loving family, the polar opposite of what he had growing up as an only child in a far less than perfect household. Not a dealbreaker, but he does yearn for all of the love that he’s missed out on and then some.

Not big on video games, but… I do think he is absolutely spending every lonely leave playing Elder Scrolls. Would be so easy to convince to go larping or to a renfaire. I see everyone’s car/bike guy headcanons and I raise you… obsessed with fantasy König. He loves history and myth!! Why not combine the two and see him in chainmail.

The scent & kink posts. But to add… he’s an affectionate biter. (,: Knows the correct places to do so that won’t cause damage or hurt too terribly much. Likes to sniff you just as well! The embodiment of the “merge souls with me” post; in love, he just wants to feel you any way that he can and have some part of you lingering on him, even if it’s just a stray hair or your scent clinging to his shirt or pillowcase.

Cheating is never on this guy’s mind when he’s in a relationship. If he’s found a lady not running for the hills the second she catches sight of him, that’s his one and only. Sure, he may find himself attracted to someone else at some point or other during the duration of a relationship, but he’s devoted and disciplined! There’s never the fear of anyone coming in between he and his lover. He’ll spoil you with gifts, clingy to a point it’s overbearing, always giving you the utmost care… but is not opposed to bullying you into being a submissive, trembling mess either. He’s balanced!

Adores animals. Like any of them. There’s a special place in his heart for cats, but having a constant companion that he can take on hikes like a large dog would be ideal. Would definitely consider owning a tarantula or a snake, too. ^^ He isn’t scared of anything, let alone a creature that most are misinformed about… (he projects a little..). He would treat them just as well as anyone would treat a more “normal” pet. Understanding if you wouldn’t want to hold a giant arachnid (they’re delicate and you squirming over it would make him a bit protective over the poor thing. ): ), but it would mean a lot to him if you were more accepting.

König would not be a pretty sight (to most people) the majority of the time… I doubt that he takes care of himself past training his body and his allotted one-two minute military showers. His character description describes what is rumored to be under his mask as scary. Let him have his buzzcut, and scars, and teeth or old wounds a little too fucked up to fix! Unconventionally attractive is still attractive! (i think his ‘face reveal’ is actually so cute…)

Lots of sporadic little thoughts, but… Ambidextrous, can not ride a bike, whistles/hums to fill lapses of silence, flexes his fingers/cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous, definitely snores (loudly), brushes his teeth like 3-4 times a day (when he can) because he eats so much, not a picky eater at all, thinks it’s cute if you’re affectionately a little grossed out by him from time to time, absolutely the kind of person that thinks fuel and fire smell good, fluent in English and German but certainly knows many words and phrases from other languages.

Kind of clumsy. Overthinks the way his body looks to the point where sometimes his movements are a little stiff. Overestimates how tall a door frame may be if he’s distracted in the presence of others, hits his head and plays it off like he didn’t even notice. He’s (obviously) highly confident on the field, but in regular circumstances it’s totally reversed.

Though. Yeah. Sometimes this does translate onto the field. Can’t stay in one place for too long, once knocked an enemy soldier out by barreling into him. He’s a quick shot, skillful with any weapon that falls into his hands, but his focus can get a little skewed.

He collects some things. Nothing exactly pricy, but antique knives, coins, and a pocket watch or two. And he isn’t the most apt at putting things together in an appealing way… The first time you’re allowed into his house it looks like he’s robbed some vintage hunting shop/is planning something nefarious with the way he’s just got a few daggers strewn about his kitchen table. Just push them to the side, it’s fine! (His favorite is certainly one with a handle carved from a stag’s antler.)

Definitely takes a physical approach to bad feelings. @melancholic-thing mentioned to me that he bites himself when he’s feeling dejected or frustrated and yeah. (All of Ghost’s hcs for him are factually correct.) Not going to punch a hole through the wall but may aggressively slam a door or raise his voice before he can catch himself.

I have many thoughts about König’s childhood/early adulthood. Like, too many. But to summarize…

I think that everyone experiences bullying to an extent but what would make it so bad that it managed to make its way into the scraps that we do have of him? What made him so fundamentally unlikable to his peers? /: With my König I’ve settled on it being a blend of neurodivergency and a nightmare home life and alienation from his peers.

Height is predominantly viewed as a good trait. I don’t think it was necessarily his appearance at all that got him picked on so heavily (albeit… I do think that he would have had some scars, crooked teeth, regular facial bruising or cuts from scraps with other children/his father). Perhaps not the most conventionally attractive guy around, but normally viewed as a solid 5/10, just average. The kind of person who you wouldn’t remember from just a face alone.

His personality was always memorable though.

Whilst the other children/teenagers were interested in the regular trends, sports, whatever was shown on the television or heard on the radio at the time, I think he probably would have had a great interest in escapism!!

Comics, books, researching history and geography, etc, anything that could keep him from thinking of where he was/what other people viewed him as. He had a lot of strange things to say: odd facts (like the kind of person to tell you the longest word in the dictionary because he thinks it’s cool, “um actually—“ to correct something, monologuing about some bug you’ve just squashed and how it was not just a pest but very useful in nature, borderline concerning reactions to being shunned (feigned threats of violence that he would laugh off, things he’s probably heard from media and his own parents), over explaining himself for the simplest of misunderstandings, and… quoting his Oma’s very old-fashioned turns of phrase (think of little Kö regularly saying “Du gehst mir tierisch auf den Keks.” when he’s annoyed whereas the others say things far less dated like “Du gehst mir auf den Sack.”)

With him being difficult to relate to and having the most uncanny things slip out of his mouth, others probably did view him as a bit of a freak. He didn’t particularly stand up for himself often either apart from a few fights (and would never hit a girl). He would stay quiet, pretend to focus on his studies or whatever else was before him while the other children jeered and taunted. Regularly a target for fake confessions and offers to hang out outside of school, too.

König did have crushes, did have people he thought were cool and wanted to befriend, but after the third time of showing up someplace that he had to walk to on his own to find that no one had actually wanted to spend their time with him, he gave up.

I don’t think he had a good relationship with his parents or much of anyone. Seriously, leaving for the military at seventeen sets off a ton of alarm bells! He left the week of his Oma’s passing, because what else was there for him — no girlfriend, no prospects, hardly a relationship with his mother or father.

His father was your standard shit parent— womanizing, loud, physically abusive towards König. “Bonding” activities with him always had a heavy lean towards violence: hunting and arguing that usually resulted in fist fighting his own son seemed to be his favorites. A small man with an equally small ego— he probably would have boasted about his affairs to König, exposed him to pornography as a way of making sure his son wasn’t anything other than straight (which: never stopped his curiosity). He would never hold back from telling König that he would never in a million years find a girl willing to put up with his supposed stupidity and shortcomings. Generally just viewed his own son as utterly worthless if not for use as a punching bag.

In turn, König always loathed him, would dread hearing the bastard just walking around the house because he knew he would always find something to bicker with his wife or son over. Nothing that they ever did would be deemed correct, and his social anxiety initially developed from his dealings with him.

His mother was withdrawn, emotionally neglectful. König was just… there to her; another mouth to feed, another person begging for the attention she would have rather spared on herself.

She wasn’t a bad mother and she did try, but the product of dealing with his father’s nonsense + letting her own mental illness go unchecked (as in, his father controlled the family financially and why would he let her blow through their funds to see a therapist and “lose her lucidity with pills and ridiculous talks”). There were some days when she would be feeling more like herself and take König along with her for walks through the park where she would try to ask him about his life, about school, and… he would end up spilling his guts to her only for her to return to silence. Still, those were his favorite days. His fondest memory was picking a flower for her on one of those walks, one that she kept pressed and later framed.

There were never family dinners, no movie nights, no day trips or vacations. The most blissful of days were spent in the comfort of his room where he could keep the door locked and muffle the sounds of his parents arguing with loud music.

So, König did not have much of a safe space within his own home, but he had his Oma and her cluttered little house. She had books and plenty of food, even a cat, too. Though she was like his mother, stern and withdrawn, she would at least sit with him and tell him stories of her own life. She would at least tell him “Ich lieb dich, Käferchen!” in her quiet voice, stroke his head where he would sit with his nose buried in a book beside her. She would show him her dusty antiques, her old photographs, and in turn taught him to be a proper man by making him tend to what needed to be done around her house. And the garden. He loved his Oma’s garden, full of orchids, petunias, and tomatoes she would mash up to make him goulash or tomatensalat!

With Austria’s leading religion being Catholicism, I do think his Oma would have dragged him with her to service plenty, too. Not that he ever particularly enjoyed it… just zoned out with a plastic soldier in his pocket to fidget with or some trading card he spent the money he earned doing chores for her on. He’s never considered himself religious, thought himself to be bound for Hell no matter what, even if most of the time he felt that he was already there.

You take a puppy that’s been beaten down his entire life, but still remains eager and throw him in a barrack with people more horrible than any bully he’s ever had, though…? He starts taking his father’s advice more and more then. He wouldn’t harm anyone that he didn’t view as deserving of it, but it didn’t need to go that far that often, anyway. König is aware of the space he takes up by then, aware that all of his training has made him more broad and sturdy, and those playground fights are nothing compared to what he’s capable of now.

He gets his callsign from a quip about him owning nothing. His barrack is empty, devoid of pictures or any sentimental belongings. He rarely checks his phone, there might be the occasional missed call from a spam number, what is there to even see? He has no social media presence, every leave is spent in a shitty apartment only a days travel from his hometown, and he is utterly silent when the other soldiers invite him out for drinks. So yes, he’s a king. The king of absolutely nothing.

One of these rowdy boys does eventually coax him into talking to a woman. He loses his virginity in a disgusting bar bathroom, where he asks her after the two minutes he’s spent inside of her if it means anything to her at all. She laughs, washes herself in the sink and calms him down, but doesn’t give him her number or anything more than her first name.

He’s starved for love, utterly miserable without it, but doesn’t have much of a desire to seek it out, either. He’s seen how people are, how they treat him. But time and time again he will grapple onto any thread that may lead him to a pinhole of hope when it’s offered to him. For the most part, he has his hand and a perpetually almost-empty bottle of lotion.

And it’s not much of a surprise that König has contemplated suicide more times than he can count. It has never culminated in any way, only fearing that he would disappoint his men, even further disappoint his parents, maybe even a small part of him still believes in a Hell; that maybe with enough vigilantism on his part he’ll earn his way to a pleasant afterlife, one he teeters on the separation of believing in and not.

He doesn’t think about his mental health, always haunted by his father’s words, thinking that assuredly it would make him weak if he were to seek help for something like his own thoughts. So he overexerts himself during workouts, bottles everything other than rage and love inside: no one is going to see him cry, not ever again after being laughed at for him hundreds of times during school where he sat being called an “ugly giant” a “daydreaming freak” and an “idiot” near daily where silent tears did escape, only spurring further laughter.

Though I do not write him with these things in mind for every au, there are always subtle hints scattered about. ^^ I could probably prattle on forever about him, but I will leave you with this for now…

[sourpatchys]

My personal Headcannons for Daryl Dixon that I will defend with my life

Just a warning! there is some nsfw❤️‍🔥 content in this list (not a ton)

This is a list full of random Headcannons I have, some are xreader related, some are just fun little things I’d like to believe because they’re fun

He l o v e s head scratches and chin scratches, just like a dog, his mom used to do it to him as a kid, it’s just really comforting to him

He is 100% dyslexic, he’s super insecure about it, which is why he leaves reading and writing up to anyone else who’s willing to do it.

This dude is secretly a math wiz. It came super easy to him, but he does tend to keep it on the down low because it was never something he was allowed to be proud of as a child, and it’s not really a needed skill anymore

I personally do not believe Daryl did anything hard while running around with Merle, Shrooms and weed were his limit 99.99% of the time, unless he felt pressured, but even then it would take a lot of convincing

He’s very self conscious about how thick his accent can get, he grew up in a much more rural area than the rest of Rick and Co. (apart from Maggie of course) and he feels out of place with his speech patterns at times.

Daryl was definitely a highschool drop out, assuming his birthday is January 6th, he left as soon as he was old enough to do it without a parent’s consent (18)

I just know this man never got his license. Can you imagine him paying his way through classes and taking a drivers test? I can’t. He probably just got a state ID for booze and just drove around illegally (if he got an ID at all, I’m sure he knew quite a few places that didn’t card)

He runs hot, the cold is a lot easier for him to handle than the heat, which is why he tended to wear sleeveless shirts or half sleeves

He has never had a “crush” in his life. He’s thought people were hot before, of course he has, but romance was never really on his mind

He’s not a total virgin, but he’s not exactly skilled either. His body count is probably 3, and I guarantee you he was not sober before, during, or after.

He’s a thigh and breast man. Hands down.

I know deep in my soul that this man enjoys some face sitting.

He’s not an overly sexual guy, if you were asexual he’d be okay with never doing anything, so long as you were happy

If you’re nonbinary, he was definitely mean to you at the start, with the way he was raised it simply didn’t make any since to him, BUT once you get closer and he starts to trust you, he might (he will) start asking some questions to understand you better

He isn’t a pet name kinda guy. He’s completely on board with calling you sunshine or princess, but anything past that just isn’t for him, and he really isn’t a fan of you giving him one either, unless it’s just a joking matter like how Carol calls him “pookie” from time to time

He’s a morning person and he hates it. He always wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, and every time he wishes he hadn’t.

He is definitely an insomniac, likely derived from having night terrors as a kid

He’s definitely self conscious about his scars, but not enough to cause issues if anyone happened to see them, he isn’t ashamed of them, but he doesn’t want to explain where their from, and he genuinely hasn’t thought of a good enough lie to tell instead.

When rick saw them for the first time Daryl had him fully convinced he was in a fight with a bear for about a week (rick never asked for the real reason)

He has a heavy sweet tooth, and likes to keep hard candy with him at all times (if possible) and he has never, and will never, pass up chocolate in any form.

He genuinely has chicken scratch for handwriting, he does not plan on ever attempting to make it easier to read, he enjoys the struggle people face when he’s put in a position where he has to write anything down. (Plus it helps conceal his errors if they do figure it out)

He does genuinely want kids in his life. Even if they can’t be his biologically. Being “uncle Daryl” is the best feeling he’s ever experienced, and he really wants to experience that with you if you’d allow it/want it (he would never pressure you to have kids)

Headaches and migraines plague his existence and they always have

He had super long hair as a kid and one of his punishments was his dad shaving it all off, which is why he kept it short until after the outbreak.

He would let you paint his toenails, or match his middle finger with whatever polish you decided to wear

This dude HATES clowns. Seeing a walker in a clown get up would absolutely kill him on the inside

You got sick? Don’t worry about it, he will absolutely attempt to make you soup from scratch using bone marrow and whatever else he can find

Fishing is not his thing. He knows how to, but he much prefers just catching them by hand or with a spear.

The closer you two get, the more likely he is to try and convince you that Bigfoot is real

Daryl is a secret star wars fan

He does NOT like country music, Led Zeppelin, Rob zombie, Ozzy osbourne and Lamb of god are much more his thing

He wasn’t a technology kind of guy, so if you tried to explain any aspect of social media to him he’d be completely lost (he didn’t even have a cellphone)

He has a super dry sense of humor

If he had to choose between starving to death or eating plain Cheerios, he would choose death.

One of the reasons he isn’t big on showering is because he doesn’t have a strong immune system from his childhood neglect, and he doesn’t want to shock his body and get sick

He also just hates the way soap feels on his skin. It’s way too sticky

During sex, he’s not strictly dominant or submissive, he’s ready to adapt to whatever you want, even if that means being strictly vanilla

He’s afraid of Santa Clause

And the Easter bunny

He’s willing to try anything once, even if he doesn’t think he’ll like it

He knows a lot of information on plants and herbs, so depending on your mood, he’ll try to find a flower to brighten your day with a little scribbled note explaining its meaning (because you can actually read his atrocious writing)

He’s never once told you he loves you, and your relationship wasn’t a spoken fact. His actions tend to speak louder than words, and if you say you love him, he will occasionally reply with a “back at ya.” Or “me too”

He always has weird shit in his pockets, like cool rocks he found, dead flowers, and fallen leaves.

He genuinely does not understand a single thing that Eugene says, and he never has.

The first time he ever kisses you on his own (you 100% have to make the first move) it’s a very rough and embarrassed act where he just grabs you and plants one in ya before you can even think about what’s happening

He will change his favorite color to whatever yours is, because if you can see beauty in it, then it’s all he can see from then on out

[babygirl-riley]

Imagining a reader insecure and overwhelmed with her acne and ghost comforting her. It’s a need 😭😭 (felt really insecure about mine today)

Insecurity

Simon stood outside of the bathroom door hearing you crying about some sort of breakout

“Tell me, is something wrong? Of something’s wrong, you can count on me.”

A/N: OMG I am so sorry that you felt insecure that day! Hopefully you feeling better! Little short but hey short and sweet! 🖤🤭

Warnings: talks about insecurities, soft!simon, TOOTH ROTTING fluff, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

“Love it can’t be that bad.” Simon stood at the door for about 20 minutes. You haven’t had a breakout for a couple of months now. All the routines and meds couldn’t keep it down. And you thought you had it.

You were not only embarrassed by the fact that you have been crying for 20 minutes about your breakout. But Simon being right outside of the door. You text him an hour ago stating that you weren’t going out tonight. It was a small dinner date you both wanted to go to but now with the zits covering certain parts of your face. You refuse. Especially the one spot in the middle on your forehead.

Fuck even fucking the Moon could see it. You have been picking at it for hours trying to make it look less angry. You sighed as you looked at the bottles making sure you got the right brand of skin care. Everything was how it was suppose to be. Tears welled into your eyes as you slammed the bottle back into place.

“It looks so fucking gross and it won’t leave,” You said loudly as you stared at the bump that laid on your forehead. “And it’s right in the damn middle! There is nothing that can make it better! And on top of that everything is suppose to be in the cabinet!”

Simon frowned, he knew this was your biggest insecurity. He felt terrible you thought that a zit made you feel ugly or sad. However, he understood, he used to get them all the time as a teen. Making him feel self conscious about how he looked with them.The thing he more sympathized with was that you had more sensitive skin though. Yes you had it since late junior high all the way to adulthood.

Simon went to sit on the bed as he waited for you to come out. He leaned on his knees as he waited for you to come out “You can’t laugh Si.” You said, he heard your voice crack from another sob to leave your mouth.

Simon half smiled, he would never, you knew that. “Baby I would never. Let’s see the bugger.”

You opened the door slowly until you had it opened enough to see you. You were looking down as he got up and walked to you. You almost forget every time how tall and bigger he is, until he is towering over you. You loved the feel of your neck looking up at him. It brought butterflies in your stomach and chest. He gently grabbed the bottom of your chin, lifting your face so your eyes land in his.

His heart stopped for a moment to see that you have been crying, for a while. It never made Simon happy when you cried for not good reasons. Simon frowned as he looked to your pimple, examining it. It seemed small to him, little bump on the middle of your forehead. Definitely showing that it was irritated, red around the area. “It doesn’t get this bad unless my period is going to start and it’s just so big and ugly. I just don’t want to go out and have people look. And I…”

Simon placed a finger against your lips. “Shh, lovie it isn’t that bad. Have ya been pickin’ at it?” He noticed the small cut that was left on the side of it. You frowned and nodded your head. You had a tendency to do it when you were nervous or irritated that you had one. “‘Ight sit down, on the bed.”

You did what he told you to do, softly planting yourself on the bed. All in the while he leaves the room, you sniffle as he walked back in a bag full of things. “‘M not sure which one you used last time so I bought one of each,” He opens the bag filled with face masks, pimple cream, moisturizers, and scrubs. Your eyes widen as you stare back up at him. “I just noticed what you use once peekin’ now. Luckily that is in there.”

You looked back into the bag, at the face masks and scrubs, first reading each label to see what would help your skin. “You are going to return the rest yes?” You asked softly as you placed the ones that were good for you aside.

“Yeah, if ya can’t use them then I will.” He said softly watching you pull each item you could use.

“And if I ask for you to do a mask with me would you?” You smirked up at him pulling one that had a Lavender scent to it.

Simon looked at it, staring for a moment. Never has he done it before let alone really wanted to. However, with your beautiful self asking for a joint face mask time. He couldn’t resist. “Of cou’se lovie.”

You bite your lower lip. “Can we just stay in and do a small spa?”

Simon chuckled caressing your cheek softly, having his thumb rub your cheekbone. “I would love to. Pizza or Chinese?”

You giggled as you kissed his palm. “Oh pizza baby!”

[hongthoven]

Okay, hi my love <3

I can´t stop thinking about Yuyu and Mingi and my brain is like, CRAVING for fluff. Just cuddling or going on a walk and all that stinking cute, tooth rottingly cute fluff. imagine the reader beind shorter and them just being her protectors and best friends or boyfriends and them just showing her how important she is for them!

I´m alreay tearing up at the thought of them (or any of ateez for that matter) proposing to them in the cutest ways and i´m just... yeah, i´m sobbing. it´s a neeed <3

LOVE YOUUUUUU <3

i hope you´ll have an amazing day, my cutie patootie <3

Hi Kittykat ♥

I didn't think this through and fluff isn't my typical comfort zone so I'm sorry if that's terrible, but here's my attempt at fulfiling your needs for some cute comforting moment with Mingi.

Slight angst at the beginning, if that calls for a tw.

Love you ♥ @bethelighthalazia

I doesn’t take more than this for Mingi to immediately call you, cutting the texting short so he can hear your voice, looking for any sign of a breakdown. He knows every crack, every change in your tone and years of friendship have given him the luxury of anticipating that kind of conversations.

« Is it about that jerk again ? » Mingi’s voice is a little hoarse but soft as ever and you can’t help but sigh as soon as it wraps you up into an invisible blanket. While he has been trying his best to keep your mind off of your ex boyfriend, Mingi knows just how much you can get into your own thoughts sometimes, digging your own grave.

You’ve been laying in bed for hours now, spiraling into your darkest thoughts, hating yourself for the most and reminiscing the last time you have felt truly loved and desired, failing to pinpoint the exact moment. It is definitely « one of those days » you typically brush off, unwilling to make a big deal out of it but sadly settling into a pathetic routine.

A pity party you never asked for but still seem to secretely crave.

« No, it’s not » only half a lie. You have been thinking about him, but not quite as much lately.

« I was just wondering why no one ever loves me enough to stay, that’s all » while you’re aware of just how sad you must sound right now, there’s a sense of comfort and safety in your friendship with Mingi that makes i tokay for you to just blurt out anything coming to your mind, including your deepest secrets.

« What about me ? What about Yunho ? »

« I love you both dearly but… you’re my best-friends »

« And ? You don’t feel loved around us ? »

« God, Mingi… You just don’t get it… Nevermind » you sigh, a little hurt not to hear precisely what you need from him at that exact moment. Of course, your childhood best-friend being the stubborn man he is now, isn’t keen on giving up that easily.

« Why don’t you explain it to me then ? »

There’s a knock on the door and you’re suddenly aware of your current state. Hair messily wrapped into a bun, rotting in your pjs and you’re pretty sure your face looks like it hasn’t seen a ray of sunshine in days but still, nothing compares to the absolute shock of seeing Mingi standing in front of your door as soon as you reluctantly fling it open.

« I was in the neighborhood » he shrugs with a smile, ending the call as you stare at him in disbelief with your phone still tapped to your ear. You had noticed the traffic sound in the background earlier and while you could perfectly picture your best-friend walking around the city, heading to god-knows-where as he tried his best to cheer you up, you were nowhere near prepared to have him showing up at your door within ten minutes.

« So what is this all about ? » he adds as you remain with your back against the door for a while, nervous to put some actual words on your insecurities. But as Mingi walks closer to you with his typical gummy smile, his dimple digging into the flesh of his cheek as a reminder of the safe place you have found in this man, nothing seems too unbearable anymore.

« I just… don’t feel desirable lately… »

« That’s bullshit »

« Excuse me ? »

« You are desirable »

« Oh yeah, says who ? »

« I just said so, didn’t I »

« That’s not… »

« The same ? Yeah I know » he adds, his arms pulling you into a hug as you almost face plant into his chest. Sometimes, you tend to forget just how much taller he actually is, and though it’s not that obvious when you two are heading out while you perch yourself on some nice heels, today is quite the opposite. Standing on your tippy toes, you fail to even reach his shoulder and settle for the warmth of his chest against your cheek.

« You know you’re beautiful, right ? »

You nod, not entirely convinced but still appreciative of Mingi’s efforts to boost your confidence through his typical praises. You’ve been here before, seeking shelter into his arms while he tries his absolute best to cheer you up and though you would never admit it, there’s something about the way he looks at you, the intensity of his gaze almost burning through your skin, like there’s nothing left around for him to see but you, that makes you feel a little too special. More than you intend to be.

The sun has been replaced by a pitch black sky outside and the late hours of the night only occurs to you when you wake up, dizzy still, into the heated comfort of Mingi’s embrace. With his arm around you, your leg snaked around his hip as he rests lazily on the couch, the arm that isn’t keeping you safe simply settled behind his head as an extra pillow, Mingi only seems half-absorbed with the movie playing on tv, his attention caught with the very first flinch of your body against his.

« Well hello there, sleeping beauty » he smirks, immediately pressing his lips to your hair and you hate the way your skin reacts to a simple touch, shivers running down your spine as the warmth of his breath hits the back of your neck.

« How do you feel ? Any better ? » Mingi’s eyes are filled with a mix of worry and adoration, his palm reaching for your cheek to stroke it softly.

« Much better » you pause, reminiscing your prior breakdown « sorry ‘bout that ».

« Don’t you dare apologizing » his thumb hooks under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze, the intimacy of a simple gesture sending mixed signals to your brain though you decide to ignore those.

« I love you, don’t you ever doubt it » his lips find yours through a quick peck, nothing you haven’t done before but today, you feel him linger for a bit longer than usual, his fingers almost pushing into the plush flesh of your cheeks as you close your eyes to bask in the moment.

[phos-phorus]

Ok here’s the promised Simi ficlet

You can actually read this as platonic and romantic so I hope you guys like it.

I greatly appreciate any feedback and maybe even some prompts or requests if y’all want me to write more specific ficlets.

Anyway here’s Kimi being a gentle sweetheart and wiping away our golden puppy’s tears

Please ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes or dm me if they are too annoying lmao

In 2010, Vettel’s rise was meteoric. His sheer talent and the prowess of the Red Bull Racing team created a formidable combination. The first championship was a dream come true. Yet, even then, whispers of criticism began to surface. Some questioned whether his success was due to the car rather than his skill. The phrase “a champion built by engineers” started making rounds in the press.

By 2011, the whispers had grown louder. Journalists began to dissect every aspect of Vettel’s driving. “Does Vettel really have the racing intelligence of a true champion?” one headline questioned. Every maneuver, every decision on the track was analyzed with a fine-tooth comb. If he won, it was expected. If he faltered, it was headline news.

The 2012 season was perhaps the most grueling. The competition was fiercer, and Vettel’s dominance was no longer a given. Media outlets latched onto any sign of vulnerability. “Is the pressure getting to Vettel?” they asked after a rare mistake at the Malaysian Grand Prix. The relentless questions about his mental fortitude began to chip away at his once unshakeable confidence.

By 2013, despite securing his fourth championship, Vettel was exhausted. The constant barrage from journalists was relentless. At every press conference, the questions were sharper, the critiques more pointed. “Does Vettel’s dominance signal a lack of real competition in F1?” and “Is Vettel ruining the sport’s unpredictability?” were common refrains. It wasn’t just about his driving anymore; it was about his very presence in the sport.

In private, the toll was evident. Vettel, once full of vigor and passion, found himself questioning his own abilities. The joy of racing was being overshadowed by the fear of making mistakes that would be ruthlessly dissected. His team noticed the change, often finding him deep in thought, a shadow of the exuberant driver they once knew.

One particularly grueling press conference after the 2013 Japanese Grand Prix became a turning point. Despite securing yet another victory, the press conference that followed was anything but celebratory.

The room was filled with journalists, eager to ask their questions. However, this time, the tone was more aggressive and personal. One after another, they peppered Sebastian with questions that implied his success was hollow. The atmosphere was charged with a palpable tension, and it wasn’t long before the questioning turned hostile.

“Sebastian, do you think your success is more about Adrian Newey’s car than your driving skills? Do you think you’ve had an unfair advantage with the car?” one reporter asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“How do you respond to claims that your championships are less valuable than those of past legends because you never had real competition?” another chimed in, eyes narrowing.

His voice, usually steady and confident, wavered. “I have always given my best, on and off the track,” he said, his frustration palpable. “I respect the history of this sport and the champions who came before me. If you think my achievements are less because of the car I drive, then you underestimate the effort it takes to win consistently. This isn’t just about me; it’s about the entire team. We work hard for every single victory.”

The questions were thinly veiled accusations, each one more cutting than the last.

Vettel’s usual composed demeanor began to crack

“Do you think your dominance is ruining the sport’s excitement?”

“Isn’t it true that without the best car, you wouldn’t even be a contender?”

The relentless barrage of accusations and doubts hammered at Vettel’s psyche. He tried to maintain his composure, but the weight of the criticism was overwhelming. His answers became shorter, his voice strained. The room seemed to close in on him, the once supportive walls now echoing with doubt and disdain.

Finally, a particularly harsh question broke him. “Sebastian, do you think you’ll ever be as respected as drivers like Schumacher or Senna, given that your success is seen as less earned?”

Vettel’s eyes glossed over with a mix of frustration and hurt. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the words caught in his throat. “I… I think that’s enough for today,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. “Excuse me.”

He stood up abruptly, leaving the room in a hushed silence. The journalists, momentarily stunned, watched as he walked out, his shoulders slumped under the weight of their words.

Sebastian sank onto a bench, his head in his hands. The tears came unbidden, hot and silent, as he fought to keep his sobs from escaping. The weight of the season, the constant scrutiny, and the relentless pressure finally broke through his defenses. He felt small, overwhelmed, and terribly alone.

“Seb?”

The voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it cut through the fog of Sebastian’s misery. He looked up to see Kimi standing a few feet away, his expression as unreadable as ever. Kimi had always been an enigma, a man of few words, but there was something in his eyes now—a depth of understanding that Sebastian hadn’t expected.

“Are you okay?” Kimi’s voice was gentle, devoid of the usual sarcasm and aloofness.

Sebastian tried to muster a response, but the words caught in his throat. He shook his head, his shoulders trembling with the effort to hold back his tears. Kimi’s presence was both comforting and disconcerting; the Finnish driver had never been one for emotional displays, and Sebastian didn’t know what to expect.

Kimi took a step closer, then another, until he was standing right beside Sebastian. Without a word, he sat down on the bench, his arm reaching out to rest gently on Sebastian’s back. The gesture was simple, but it carried a world of meaning. It was an offer of solace, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in this moment of vulnerability.

After a moment of silence Sebastian lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with unshed tears. “I can’t do this anymore, Kimi. They keep tearing me down. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Kimi pulled him into a hug, strong and reassuring. “Listen to me, Seb. You are an incredible driver. You’ve proven it time and again. The media… they don’t understand. They don’t see the hard work, the dedication. They only see the results, and they twist them to fit their narrative.”

Sebastian shuddered, hot tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and Kimi leaned back just enough to be able to look into Seb’s glassy eyes and wipe away the tears while he spoke, his voice a soothing murmur in the quiet room.

“You’ve achieved so much. Four World Championships, countless won races. Don’t let them take that away from you. Remember why you started racing. The love for the sport, the thrill of the race. That’s what matters.”

As Kimi held him, he reached up to stroke a stray curl out of Sebastian’s face, the gesture so gentle and innocent that it broke through Sebastian’s defenses. A sob escaped his lips, and he buried his face in Kimi’s chest, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Kimi continued to whisper soothing words, his hands stroking Sebastian’s back in a steady, comforting rhythm.

The room was quiet, save for the sound of Sebastian’s muffled sobs and Kimi’s calming whispers. Sebastian clung to Kimi, drawing strength from the Fins unwavering support. He felt the knots of tension slowly begin to unwind, replaced by a sense of warmth and security.

“You are a champion, Seb, my champion” Kimi continued, his voice steady and reassuring. “Don’t let their words define you. You define yourself by your actions, by your passion.”

Sebastian nodded against Kimi’s chest, the tears still flowing but the anguish beginning to ebb.

For a long time, they sat there in silence, the noise of the outside world fading into the background. Kimi’s arms remained a steady anchor, his silent support speaking volumes. When Sebastian finally lifted his head, he saw a small, understanding smile on Kimi’s face.

“Thank you, Kimi,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kimi’s embrace tightening around Sebastian. “You don’t have to do anything without me. We’re in this together. And no matter what happens, I’ll always have your back.”

[queenof-curses]

Prince Charming

Katsuki Bakugo (Pro-Hero) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pro-Hero Dynamite is the perfect boyfriend in the media's eyes. The press constantly praises your relationship, but what they don't realize is that Katsuki Bakugo is insatiable behind closed doors.

Tags: Minors DNI!, Explicit, Yandere Behavior, Yandere Bakugo, Explicit Sex, Dacryphilia, Breeding, Established Relationship, Consensual but a little dub-con.

This was originally an ask submitted by Anon- I hope you enjoy<3

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Masterlist | More My Hero Academia

--

Pro-hero Dynamite loved his precious little girlfriend. 

In public he treated her like his delicate Princess… one who could shatter with even the lightest touch. The Press constantly hounded the top hero and his lover, snapping photographs of the blonde hero shielding you away from prying eyes. 

He was seen holding doors open for you, maneuvering your bodies so that he’d be the one walking closer to traffic, and even holding up his coat as you rode up the escalator- hiding you from both the media and any creeps with wandering eyes. He was so sweet and affectionate, and so different from the way the public originally met him as a teen. The Press praised every single detail of your relationship, hailing him as the Prince Charming Hero. 

But behind closed doors, that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Bakugo was never the man to be attracted to weak women. No, he knew you could take a punishment, and he wasted no time pushing you past your limits in the bedroom. 

“You spoiled brat- don’t look at me like that,” he tells you.

Tears rolled down your face, mascara marks staining your cheeks as you kneeled before the pro hero. You cough, attempting to alleviate the pain and soreness in the back of your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. 

Bakugo’s hard cock bobbed in front of your face. Its heavy girth weighed as you watched the angry red tip leak. His precum mixed with your spit, running down his shaft and onto his full sack. 

“Tch- stupid bitch, you can’t even suck my cock right.” The fiery blonde scoffs at your behavior- gripping you by the back of your head and pulling you forward once more. 

You open your mouth once more to accept him- forcing your coughs into silence as you eyed his member like a lollipop, ready to satisfy your sweet tooth. You were so ready to submit to him- your need to please could get him off from just the thought of it. 

He uses a free hand to grip his length, bouncing it against your lips as if teasing you with a treat. 

The saltiness coats your lips, as you eagerly keen for more. Bracing your hands on his strong thighs, you prepare yourself for what’s to come. 

“You gonna suck my cock right this time, Princess?” He teases you, smirking at your neediness. “Gonna let me fuck that sweet throat of yours?”

“Y-Yes Bakugo.”

A loud smack silences you. 

The pain is delayed, the shock sitting deep in your gut at the realization of the hit. 

“My name isn’t Bakugo right now Princess.”

It’s all he says, giving you a moment to register the slap. Yes, it hurt- but you’ll be damned if the rough treatment didn’t drench your panties. You could feel the way your cunt throbbed, desperate to be played with. Your wetness soaked through, and you knew that if you were to look down- you’d see a mess between your thighs. 

Yes, the media was correct in that Pro Hero Dynamite was the sweetest boyfriend ever. Yet, that’s not why you liked him. It was a plus, yes- but this feeling… this thrill, is why you yearned for the man. 

“I- I’m sorry…” you whisper out before transitioning into a more confident tone. “Please Daddy… fuck my throat.” 

A Cheshire smile cracks across the angry blonde’s face. How could he not fall for those precious puppy dog eyes of yours? 

“That’s what I wanted to hear, Princess.” 

You open your mouth up for him once again, hanging your tongue out and relaxing your throat.

Slowly, he feeds you his cock.  

—

It’s been hours. 

And yet, the Pro-hero never stopped for more than a few moments. Mostly, because of yourself. You needing to catch your breath- to come down from the multiple orgasms Bakugo pulled from you. Your pussy ached at this point, but there was no stopping your partner until he achieved his goal. 

You laid your cheek against the cool sheets- the thick scent of sex permeated the air as your eyes rolled back once more. 

He had you on all fours again- except you no longer had the strength to hold yourself up. Your arms sat limp against your sides, face flat on the bed below as you clenched the sheets with your fists. 

Bakugo held your ass high into the air, fucking himself into your weeping cunt as you clenched tight around him. If you weren’t hanging on for dear life, the force of his thrusts would send your body up the bed. He admired his pretty little girlfriend below him, being split open on his hard length, watching himself disappear deep inside of you with each movement. 

“Fuuuuck baby- that’s right, cum on my cock.” He tells you, noticing the way you clenched down around him. He was mesmerized as he watched the thick ring of cream form at the base of his shaft. 

Obsessed wasn’t even half of it. This man was absolutely mad for you. 

His filthy words rang in your ear; you were unable to process just exactly what he was saying as you cum around him for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

“Bakugo– I- Fuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut as tears spring freely down your face. 

He was so lost in you, the Daddy act had been long abandoned as he listened to the way you cried out for him. His name on your lips was like a blessing… an answer to his prayers that you were everything he’s ever asked for. 

You were numb all over- the only thing you could make out was Katsuki’s shaft buried deep inside of you, molding you into the shape of him. How he managed to still be so hard after so many rounds- the thought far from your mind as you listened to the way his still-heavy balls slapped against your swollen clit. 

“Suki…” you cried out. “Please- ‘is too much!” 

The overstimulation was too much- he forced orgasm after orgasm from you for what felt like hours. Truth was, he loved getting you drunk on his cock. Each and every moan he pulled from you was his version of winning, with your pleasure being his prize.

He looked down at you and smirked, admiring the tears, sweat, and cum that slicked across both of your bodies. It was a mess, and he intended for it to last just a little bit longer. 

“Too fucking bad Princess, you’re my little cum slut to use and fill as I please. Now fucking take it.” He says as he slams into you. The driving force of his hips filled the room with wet smacking noises, his grunts accompanying your own cries. 

You could only whimper in response- a cute sound that was like music to his ears.

Oh how he loved being mean to you, degrading you with every thrust of his hips... You accepted himself as he was- the only person to ever let him take his frustrations of being a top-hero out on. Of course he knew that you knew he loved you deeply- that this was just an outlet for you both to let go; you were tired of playing the perfect partner in public, and he needed to release some pent up stress. Truly, it was amazing how well you completed one another. 

Your womb felt so full, stuffed to the brim by the previous loads Bakugo emptied inside of you. You were, in fact, his precious cum dumpster for the night. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he had the intention of knocking you up. 

If only you knew how he saw the shitty Media’s article earlier that day. 

–

PRO-HERO DYNAMITE: AFRAID OF COMMITTING? 

It had nothing to do with infidelity or anything of that nature, just a clickbait article that pinpointed on the length of time you two had been together. How there was no ring, no child, no legal tie to one another. 

And he was dumb enough to click on it.

The marriage part he already had planned. He had a ring picked out for months that he was waiting for the right time to ask you. But the mention of a child together?

Fuck yeah Bakugo wanted to be a dad. He loved you to death, so thoughts of you full and pregnant with his child riddled his brain all day. He couldn’t stop thinking about it… the thought made him hard and his balls weighed heavily in his uniform because of it.

Fuck- he needed you. 

And when he saw you after his patrol shift, the thoughts were still etched into his mind. He was going to make it happen. Tonight. 

–

“Agh- Fuck!” He growled, feeling the way you milked him dry. His balls twitched between his legs as he emptied yet another load into your tight heat.

“‘Suki- Fuck, ‘feels so good…” you groaned out, voice hoarse at this point from the countless times he’s made you cry out. You gripped the sheets as you arched your back into him- rocking your hips up and down his cock, making sure each drop of his seed ended up deep inside of you.

Strong hands dug into the flesh of your hips, no doubt leaving bruises of your time together. He molded himself against the fat of your ass, holding himself balls deep inside of your cunt as he humped his load further into your womb.

You felt the way his dick twitched as he decorated your insides with ropes of fresh cum, joining the previous finishes from earlier that night. Tears sprang free as you cried into the bed, the already wet sheets soaking up your whimpers as you feel him fill you once more. 

“Katsuki…” you sighed out. 

Overworked- overheated- overstimulated

The only three words that could be used to describe your current state.. 

But as Bakugo pulled out of you and flipped you over, you saw it there in his eyes. That same fire he had when coming home earlier that night.

Gripping you by the backs of your knees, he pushes your legs up against your chest and buries his weeping cock back inside of you, hissing at the overwhelming pleasure of his still-sensitive tip hitting your womb. 

Fresh tears spring from your eyes as you let your boyfriend continue to ravish you- grinding himself down on your swollen clit as he watches your fucked-out reaction yearn for him. 

“I’m far from done with you, Princess.”

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Animagus

(Pt 5)

Matteo Riddle x MC

AN: Enemies to lovers, Quidditch, banter, conspiracies, dark arts, manipulation, death eaters, Slytherin boys, suggestive themes

Word count: 5.7 K

Masterlist

**************

"UGH!"

Ripple grunted in pain as his back slammed against the cold stone wall. His wide eyes darted around, taking in the group of Slytherins that had cornered him, their faces marked by the casual cruelty of those who know they hold all the power.

"Hate to break it you but if you ever thought you were my type then you’ve clearly lost your fucking mind," Matteo chuckled, though the sharp edge in his voice made it clear he wasn’t really amused.

The Hufflepuff tried to salvage what little dignity he had left "I-I didn’t mean it! I swear, I don’t know what happened!"

Matteo’s smirk widened, "Didn’t mean it? Damn, Ripple, you’re breaking my heart."

Everyone except Ripple chucked who was still holding hope that he could get through this conversation alive.

Blaise chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "So, what then? You’re just naturally an idiot? You’re telling me Wynn Cromwell tampered with your papers, charmed you, sat back, and had a good fucking laugh while you proclaimed your undying love, and you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it? What are you, a wizard, or just a shit Muggle in disguise?"

Ripple stammered, unable to form a coherent reply. In truth, he hadn’t even realized his papers had been charmed. The fact that you had pulled this off without him noticing made him question whether he was truly terrible at magic or if your abilities far exceeded what any sixth-year should possess.

"No offense, Ripple," Matteo leaned casually against the window, the smile on his lips a stark contrast to the cold stare he aimed at the shrinking Hufflepuff. "But if I hear you say shit like that again, I’ll make sure you’re eating through a straw for the rest of the year."

A quivering sigh escaped Harrison Ripple's mouth "You know I didn’t mean it. Whatever Cromwell did it..it caught me off gaurd. I never expected her to do such a thing in the first place"

Matteo patted his shoulder in consolation though it was hardly genuine. "I know. That’s why I’m letting it slide this time, but fucking hell,…" He trailed off with a laugh, turning to glance at the others, who were all watching with predatory interest. "You’re pathetic."

The fists of the young hufflepuff's only tightened in response, jaw gritted so tight, he knew his tooth would ache later on. But each cruel remark from the unforgiving syletherin elite only kept getting worse.

“You know what I find fascinating"? Theo spoke up, his low baritone voice sharp "How someone so insignificant can manage to fuck up so royally. You’re like a bad joke that just keeps getting worse.”

Ripple’s emotions flickered to momentary fury, jaws clenched because he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, knowing better than to show defiance in front of the Slytherins.

Theo’s eyes gleamed as he read Ripple's anger like an open book and his lips curved at the sight as he continued, “I half-expected you to drop to your knees and beg for a kiss"

Ripple let out an involuntary huff of disbelief, but before he could register what was happening, Theo stepped forward, his hand gripping the back of Ripple’s neck like a vice. With a low, mocking chuckle, Theo leaned in closer, his breath hot against Ripple’s ear. “Maybe you still will. What do you think? Want to plant one on Riddle before he puts you in the hospital wing?”

With a sudden, forceful shove, Theo pushed Ripple forward, sending him stumbling into Matteo. The Hufflepuff barely caught himself, his hands flailing as he struggled not to fall. Matteo, for his part, didn’t bother to move, watching Ripple’s pathetic attempts to steady himself with cold indifference.

The group erupted into laughter.

“This isn’t funny!” Ripple’s voice cracked with desperation as he tried to regain some control. “I made a mistake, okay? I get it! But I’m the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain, damn it! Hufflepuff's finest! How many times do I have to say I didn’t mean a single fucking thing?”

The outburst hung in the air, the silence thick and suffocating.

Every second that stretched only seemed to raise Ripple's blood pressure when Matteo finally broke it “Look at that, Ripple’s finally growing a backbone."

"It’s because you guys treat me like shit," Ripple finally blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. To his surprise, Matteo just snorted, unfazed. "Well, can’t argue with that.Every time you open your mouth, it’s like watching a train wreck. You make it too damn easy."

Ripple watched Matteo light up a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around his fingers, that same infuriating grin still playing on his lips. It didn’t matter if he could whip out his wand and hex every one of these arrogant bastards; he still wouldn’t be taken seriously.

Matteo exhaled a stream of smoke, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto his quivering form. “You know, my father always said there’s nothing more pathetic than a wizard who doesn’t know his place. And now, looking at you, I finally understand what he meant.”

The words hung in the air, colder and sharper than the stone walls around them.

Every scrutinizing gaze was silent but said a thousand words that Ripple's pride just couldn't swallow. It was as if their eyes were stripping him of every last shred of dignity, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

He had been willing to endure their torment, but even a cornered animal only takes so much before it lashes out.

"I want the cup," Ripple’s voice rang out, cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade.

The group's reaction was instant—a brief flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by simmering anger.

Blaise’s expression darkened as he stepped closer to Ripple. "You know that's not going to happen."

"But- You all said-"

"You’re asking for the impossible," Theo interjected "We can’t just hand over the Cup. The rest of Slytherin would never go along with it. You’d have the entire house against you—and us."

The arrogance of their tone has sent Ripple's thoughts into a mess of fury. I don’t give a shit, was all he could think, feeling the anger tighten in his chest.

If they wanted to go to the Map Chamber so badly, then they’d have to pay the price. Besides, there's nothing he would like to see more then the ridicule they will face after Hufflepuff gets the cup, they deserve whatever they have coming from their shitty parents anyway.

"I want the Cup. You want the location of the Map Chamber. It’s that simple." Ripple persisted.

"It’s not that simple, and you’re fucking delusional if you think it is," Enzo snapped, frustration flaring in his voice. "You really believe we can just tell the team to throw the match? Do you even understand what would happen? Forget Wynn running her mouth to Hufflepuff—the whole fucking school would know.

"That’s your problem, not mine".

He was done playing their games. They were the Slytherin elite, after all—if anyone could figure out how to pull this off without getting their hands dirty, it was them.

Ripple shook his head again, straightening his back, trying to muster the last bit of defiance he had left. "No. Either you give me that fucking cup, or no location—"

Before he could finish, Matteo lunged forward, the rage a living thing that contorted his features into something almost feral. He slammed Ripple back against the wall with a force that rattled the stone, his face inches from Ripple’s, eyes blazing with fury.

"You fucking prick," Matteo hissed, his voice low and venomous. "Finally had enough, have you? Grown a pair overnight?"

Ripple gasped, his breath caught as Matteo’s hand tightened around his throat. Panic surged through him as he struggled to breathe, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"Maybe you’ve forgotten," Matteo’s voice dropped even lower, a dangerous edge to it, "but you’re easier to read than a fucking children’s book."

It was then that Ripple’s eyes widened with the horrifying realization—Matteo had been inside his head, sifting through his thoughts like a predator playing with its prey.

Fuck.

Matteo Riddle was a Legilimens.

"Wait—w-wait!" Ripple stammered, his voice trembling as he desperately tried to backpedal. "I was just angry, alright? I didn’t mean any of it!"

Theo chuckled darkly from behind Matteo, his tone laced with cruel amusement. "Oh, this should be good. Care to share, Matteo? I’d love to hear what our dear Ripple really thinks of us."

Matteo’s grin was cold, devoid of any real humor, as he tilted his head, never breaking eye contact with Ripple. "Oh, he’s just thinking how fucking delightful it would be to see us humiliated. To watch us lose to Hufflepuff and get what we deserve from our ‘shitty parents,’ as he so eloquently put it."

Ripple’s face drained of color as Matteo recounted his thoughts, his entire body trembling under the weight of his fear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Blaise smirked, his expression dripping with mock sympathy. "Cheers mate, that might be the single most amusing thing that has ever escaped your thoughts, I am sure you who's Riddle 'shitty parent' is right"?

The look on the Hufflepuff's face looked like one of death at the realization.

Enzo sighed " You’re even more of an idiot than I thought."

Matteo leaned in closer, "Here’s the thing, Ripple—I don’t give a shit about your threats. You’re a pawn in a game you don’t even understand, and I’m done playing nice."

Matteo took a deliberate step back, letting Ripple slump against the wall as he gasped for breath. Th hufflepuff watched with panciked eyes as Matteo took another hit of his cigarette the smoke curling around him like a serpent.

"You know," he began, his voice casual, almost conversational, "my father’s always been a shitty parent. Never did get the hang of that whole 'loving father' thing. But torturing people? Now that's a skill he's mastered".

Ripple’s eyes widened in horror, his face going pale as he struggled to find his voice.

"You’re really fucking unlucky, you know that?" Matteo continued, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. "Because if my old man hears about what’s been running through that tiny brain of yours, he’s gonna have a field day. You think we’re bad? You haven’t seen shit yet."

Ripple’s breath hitched, his hands shaking as he tried to stammer out a reply, but Matteo cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Here’s the thing," Matteo leaned in close, his voice a menacing whisper. "You’ve been withholding information. My father doesn’t like it when people keep secrets from him. And when he finds out you’ve been playing us, he’s not gonna just let it slide. No, he’s gonna make you scream until your fucking throat bleeds."

"And let’s not forget Aunt Bella" Theo added casually

"She loves to get her hands dirty. She’ll carve you up, leave nothing but a bloody heap where you once stood. Marking her toys is her favorite game. A permanent reminder of your stupidity." Theo added with a chilling smile, watching the boy’s face pale as though he hadn’t nearly pissed his trousers at the thought

Matteo took another hit and crouched down, leveling with Ripple before blowing a stream of smoke into his face ""You ever heard of the Cruciatus Curse? That’s my dad's go to. He’ll break you. Piece by fucking piece. And he won’t stop until you’re begging for death. Problem is, he doesn’t like giving people what they want."

Matteo’s tone shifted, becoming almost conversational again, which somehow made it even more terrifying. "And the best part? He’ll keep you alive, just to see how long it takes before your mind snaps. Every. Single. Detail. That’s what he’ll want. He’ll want to know every little thought that crossed your mind while you were fucking us over."

Ripple’s entire body was trembling now, the sheer terror of what was being described overwhelming him. His mind raced with images of unimaginable pain, of being tortured until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of who he once was.

"Are you curious, Hufflepuff?" Matteo’s voice dripped with malice, "What it’s like to live with ‘shitty parents’? Say the word. Go on, because it's just one letter away." His eyes were cold, revealing the weight of a history filled with cruelty and violence, a glimpse into a world anyone let alone the Hufflepuff could hardly imagine surviving.

Ripple’s resolve crumbled, the fight draining out of him as shook his head, voice desperate and heavy fighting back sobs. "Please... please, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything, just don’t let him... don’t let him do that to me!"

The Slytherins exchanged satisfied glances, their cruel smiles widening as they watched Ripple grovel at their feet.

Matteo leaned down his voice a soft, sinister whisper. "Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Start talking. And make it quick. We’ve wasted enough time on you already."

Ripple’s hands shook violently as he struggled to speak, his voice barely a whisper. "The map... it’s in the library, hidden in the Restricted Section. I... I can show you."

The tension was suddenly broken by the distant sound of footsteps. The sharp click of heels on stone grew louder, and before they could react, Professor Snape emerged from around the corner, his cold, calculating eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him.

"Riddle," Snape’s voice was like ice, cutting through the air. "What exactly is going on here?"

In an instant, Matteo’s expression shifted, the darkness in his eyes replaced by an easygoing facade. He loosened his grip on Ripple, stepping back as if nothing had happened. The rest of the group followed suit, straightening up and adopting similarly nonchalant postures.

"Professor Snape," Matteo greeted smoothly, his tone laced with a hint of false cheer. "We were just… cheering Harrison up. He’s been a bit down lately, and we thought we’d lift his spirits."

Draco, Theo, Enzo, and Blaise all nodded in agreement, each of them putting on a convincing show of innocent concern.

Snape’s eyes flicked over each of them, his expression unreadable. He knew exactly what was going on—the tension in the air, the way Harrison Ripple was trembling, Matteo’s calm menace—it all painted a clear picture. But Snape had his own precarious role to play, one that required him to tread carefully between two worlds.

He was a man trapped by his own double life, forced to watch as students like Ripple became pawns in a game far beyond their comprehension.

"Is that so?" Snape drawled, his voice heavy with unspoken tension. His gaze shifted to Ripple, who looked as though he might collapse under the pressure. "I suggest you all return to your common rooms before I decide to take points from Slytherin for loitering in the corridors."

Draco nodded, his expression equally composed. "We’ll make sure Ripple gets back safely," he added, his voice dripping with insincerity.

Snape’s gaze lingered on Matteo for a moment longer, as if silently warning him to tread carefully, before he finally turned away.

"See that you do," he said curtly, his robes billowing as he walked away, leaving the group alone once more.

As soon as Snape was out of earshot, Matteo’s smile faded, replaced by the menacing glare that had Ripple shrinking back against the wall again. "Library, this Friday, 10 pm"

Ripple hesitated to say his next words but said it anyway "But that's after curfew..."

Matteo smirked, "Is that a problem"?

"No… no problem," Ripple finally managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Matteo straightened up, satisfied with Ripple’s submission. "Good," he said coldly, turning away without another word. The rest of the Slytherins followed, their eyes still gleaming with dark amusement as they left Ripple standing alone, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

As the sound of their footsteps faded, Ripple hands rand through his hair, fisting them in frustration

What did he get himself into? Whatever it was, forget the cup, because if Matteo father is involved, there was no hope of winning.

******************************

You walked through the dimly lit halls, speeding your way through countless stray if students.

You were late—and not just five minutes late, but ten, and it was to Snape's class, of all things.

What possessed you to take a "quick" nap in the library when you were already sleep-deprived was beyond you.

Breathless, you took the stairs two at a time, cursing under your breath as the classroom door came into view.

You could see everyone already seated at their tables, the room eerily quiet.

Now Snape was bound to notice you.

Taking a deep breath at the top of the stairs, you fought to steady your breathing and not look like you were about to collapse from the jog.

Trying to remain as normal as possible, you held that composure with great difficulty and walked in, making a beeline for the closest table.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you quietly set your things down, biting your lip to suppress the breaths that needed to escape.

Some students turned around, watching you with curious eyes as you settled in as quietly as you could

After a few moments, you let out a sigh when suddenly Snape monotone voice echoed through the classroom "Ms. Cromwell, 5 points from Hufflepuff".

'Fuck' you mouthed, slumping in your seat as some Hufflepuffs looked your way with annoyance.

As the class began, the soft clink of glass and bubbling potions filled the room. Everyone was partnered up, diligently working on their Draught of Peace, while you sat alone at the back of the class. You didn’t mind, though. You preferred the quiet, free from distractions, and you knew how to brew this potion without help.

You didn’t have many friends besides Hermione and Ginny, neither of whom shared your schedule. And the few Hufflepuff mates you did get along with weren’t in this class either. No matter—you opened your textbook and began preparing your ingredients, content in the solitude.

But just as you were about to slice the moonstone, a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite honey badger.”

You looked up, spotting Matteo lounging with Theo and Enzo, his usual smirk playing on his lips as he sat at the table besides you.

"Is that so? Your sure it isn't Ripple"?

Matteo shook his head "No, no. He's my second my favorite".

You let out a small laugh "Better keep that to yourself Riddle, otherwise you'll break his heart".

"Only heart your breaking is mine Cromwell sitting by yourself like that" Matteo feigned worry but you only rolled your eyes, actually a tad amused by his presence.

"Good. There's nothing that fills my day with joy then hearing that sentiment" You pulled the black hair tie from your wrist before pulling your raven hair up to tie back into a pony tail, eyes now concentrating on the ingredient in front of you.

Matteo went quiet, his gaze lingering longer than it should have.

His eyes lazily roamed you, coming up to your exposed neck as you shook your head, securing the hair into place.

Pretty.

Matteo noticed these things a long time ago, but never in detail before. The small moles that speckled your neck to the freckles sprayed across the bridge of your nose. All adorned by your jet black hair framing your soft features. It was all more noticeable today.

You shrugged off your robes, rolling up the sleeves of your crisp white shirt. The movement was casual, but Matteo’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his throat tightened, his eyes tracing the lines of your neck and chest.

You had always worn loose clothing so he never paid much mind to your figure, but when you had sat back down on the bench not paying attention, the skirt rode up thighs revealing the soft fat of your skin squished against the bench.

Fucking hell...why was it always the quiet ones..

His lids lowered, focus sharpening at the edge of your skirt. An inch further and his eyes would have seen the color of the undergarment you chose to wear today.

His breath hitched slightly—just for a moment—before he caught himself, a small grin returning to his lips as he leaned back, watching you with a new, curious intensity.

Meanwhile, your hands shook as you struggled to cut the stubborn blue moonstone, its dust scattering haphazardly around the cauldron. The rough, sharp edges of the stone glinted dangerously under the dim light, threatening to slice your fingers if you weren’t careful. But the dull knife you’d grabbed from the last pile of equipment didn’t help matters. Just your luck.

The cauldron in front of you hissed angrily, bubbling higher than it should, reminding you it needed the other ingredients fast, or this potion would be beyond saving.

With a frustrated huff, you tried to maintain focus, wondering why today, of all days, was spiraling like this. Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps nearing your table. You looked up to see none other than Professor Snape, looming ominously over your cauldron like a dark cloud. Disapproval gleamed in his eyes, and the frown etched on his face deepened with every second he looked at your failed attempts.

"Any day now, Ms. Cromwell," Snape's cold voice cut through the silence, making you fumble with the knife.

You swallowed and quickly returned to the task, trying to scrape the moonstone with as much force as you could muster. The dust flew everywhere, scattering like powdered snow, but you were determined to make it work. The frustration burned hotter in your chest with each passing moment.

A sigh of exasperation escaped the professor, and you could feel his disapproval grow heavier. You looked up sheepishly, still struggling with the moonstone, desperately trying to convey that you were at least trying.

"I—I’m sorry, Professor. The knife is just so dull—"

"No, Ms. Cromwell. That is not the issue," Snape’s voice was biting.

Red tinged your cheeks at the insinuation of his words that your were just utterly weak and grip strength was trash.

"Riddle" Snape snapped.

"Riddle!"

Your eyes widened, flicking behind Snape to where Matteo sat, lounging lazily in his chair, his potion already finished. Of course, it was.

"Pair up with Ms. Cromwell," Snape instructed, his voice sharp and impatient. "Perhaps she’ll find some competence under your guidance."

He sighed, getting up from his chair replying, "Sure, Professor."

His eyes found yours, and the subtle smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips sent another wave of heat to your face. You quickly looked away, leaning back in your chair and setting the moonstone down with more force than necessary.

As he reached your table, he leaned over your shoulder, his gaze boring into the half-finished potion with cool indifference.

"Did you plan on finishing this today?" he asked, his voice low, teasing, as his breath ghosted over your ear.

You groaned quietly in response, leaning back just a bit too far, and your back brushed against his chest. You quickly straightened up, trying to ignore the way his eyes trailed over the side of your face, almost too close for comfort.

"The knife is dull," you stated.

Matteo snorted, amusement lacing his tone. "Really? Let me see."

Without waiting for your reply, he slid into the seat next to you, effortlessly grabbing the moonstone. With a single, swift motion of the knife, a fistful of moonstone dust fell cleanly into the cauldron. He made it look disgustingly easy.

"You were saying" Matteo teased with grin.

You sighed, irritated but keep quiet as the two of you began to work.

A few minutes pass by and you notice Matteo had moved on to the next part of the potion with infuriating ease. He worked diligently, cutting ingredients with precision, measuring them carefully before adding them to the cauldron. His movements were fluid and confident, and it was clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your eyes flickered to the knife he’d set down.

Stupid knife. You thought.

Silently, you picked it up, turning it over in your hand, inspecting it as if it were the culprit for all your troubles.

Matteo eyes now pinned on you, watching you turn the knife over in your hands, feeling the edges. He raised a brow wondering what your doing when you suddenly started glaring at the blade like it had personally betrayed you.

"Pft-haha"

You attention now snapped to him chuckling and shaking his head.

"What"? You asked.

"Are you seriously blaming the knife, Cromwell? That’s adorable."

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Wha—It is the knife! I mean, look at it!" You pointed at the dull blade. "The edges are completely blunt, the handle has no grip, and I can’t even remember the last time someone polished this ancient relic—"

Matteo's grin only widened, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he leaned casually back in his chair, watching you with a soft, almost playful look. There was something different about you when you weren’t constantly on guard—a flicker of something softer beneath that fiery exterior. He took note of the way your face scrunched up when you were upset, almost like an irritated bunny trying to be tough.

You paused mid-ramble, catching the look on his face. Your shoulders slumped, and you let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, you know what? Let's just focus on finishing the potion."

"Oh, believe me, I’m focused." Matteo smirked. "But it’s hard to concentrate when you’ve got moonstone dust all over your face."

You gasped, your hands immediately flying to your face. "Where?" you started swiping at your cheeks, but only ended up sending the dust flying everywhere.

Matteo chuckled again, this time reaching out to brush the bridge of your nose with his thumb, wiping away the last of the dust. Your nose scrunched at the sensation, and Matteo found himself momentarily distracted by how cute you looked, even if you were a mess. He ignored the quickening pulse that beat against his chest.

"Thanks," you muttered, blushing slightly before returning your focus to the potion.

He hummed in response and began working again.

As you filled the cauldron with more water, Matteo chopped up more moonstone, dropping it in with perfect timing.

You began to stir the mixture, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand, but his presence beside you was distracting—too close, too intense. The air between you felt charged, each breath you took slightly more ragged as you tried to keep your composure.

Then, without warning, Matteo leaned in even closer, his cheek grazing yours, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through your body.

"Here," he whispered, his voice a low, smooth murmur that made your heart skip a beat. A shiver ran down your spine, uncontrollable and far too obvious. "You’re not stirring it right."

Before you could react, his hand slid over yours, firm but deliberate, taking control of the spoon and shifting the direction of your movements. His fingers wrapped around yours, guiding the spoon smoothly through the thick liquid. "Counterclockwise for this draught. Always."

You nodded stiffly, your throat dry, and you could practically feel the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips before he finally pulled back, his hand lingering for just a second too long before retreating.

"Good," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin before he leaned away, leaving you to wrestle with the lingering heat that spread through your body.

A few more minutes pass by and you notice the color of the cauldron.

What kind of color is that?

You glanced at Matteo and see him measuring out unicorn powder, with powdered porcupine quills and syrup of hellebore sitting besides him in cups.

A creeping dread filled you as you realized something was wrong.

Your eyes darted to your notes, flipping quickly through the pages of your book. Then to Matteo’s textbook. Your heart sank.

Shit

You had been following the wrong recipe.

The realization hit you all at once.

Matteo was focused on the cauldron, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he observed the unexpected color change in the potion. He glanced down at his notes, then back at the cauldron, clearly sensing something was off.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to salvage this before class was over.

You quickly gathered more ingredients, trying to stay calm, and brought them back to the table. Matteo’s eyes flicked to you, clearly confused. "Hold on," he said, "why are you bringing more unicorn powder? We can’t add any more."

You licked your lips, trying to think fast. "Well... are you sure you added the right amount?"

Matteo raised an eyebrow, studying your face with suspicion. Before he could reply, the cauldron in front of you hissed ominously, a small plume of steam rising from the bubbling liquid inside. Your stomach dropped.

The mixture began splashing against the rim of the cauldron, hissing louder by the second.

You cursed under your breath, panic clawing at your chest as you watched the potion teeter on the edge of disaster.

Matteo’s head snapped up at the sound, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell did you do?" His voice was sharp as he leaned over your shoulder to inspect the potion.

"I—I don’t know!" you stammered, panic flooding your voice. "Something’s wrong!"

"Shit!" Matteo cursed, his hand grabbing your shoulder as the cauldron sputtered. Hot liquid shot out, narrowly missing his face.

"This thing’s about to blow"

Quickly, he grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you to the other side of the room. You stumbled after him, trying to keep up, but in your frantic escape, your shoe lace snagged on the edge of the table. With a startled yelp, you tripped, crashing into Matteo and sending the both of you sprawling onto the floor.

Matteo’s breath left him in a sharp grunt as you collided with him, sending both of you sprawling to the ground. Your face hovered just inches from his, eyes wide with surprise as the cauldron behind you erupted with a deafening bang.

Hot liquid shot across the room, splattering against the walls and tables as students ducked, chairs scraping the floor in their haste to avoid the explosion. The thick, pungent stench of burnt ingredients filled the air, mixing with the billowing clouds of steam that obscured your vision.

For a brief, chaotic moment, the room was nothing but smoke and confusion.

When the dust finally began to settle, the scene shifted into sharp focus. Matteo lay flat on his back, his chest rising and falling beneath you. One arm was draped instinctively over your waist, fingers gripping lightly as though to keep you steady. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, jaw clenched, a look of utter disbelief etched into his features.

You, meanwhile, were sprawled across his chest, blinking in stunned silence, trying to process the sheer absurdity of what had just happened. Your hands, still braced against his shoulders, trembled slightly, the heat of the near-explosion lingering in the air around you.

You let out the breath you were holding when Snape’s icy voice cut through the chaos like a knife. "What in Merlin’s name is going on here?!"

You quickly scrambled off Matteo, your face flushed with embarrassment. Matteo, still lying there, smirked lazily as he got up, brushing himself off. "Well, that was one way to blow up a class," he muttered under his breath.

The room was dead silent, save for the dripping of the ruined potion as it slid down the walls. The other students, who had taken cover during the explosion, peeked out from behind their desks, eyes wide in a mix of amusement and fear as they waited for Snape’s inevitable wrath.

Snape’s gaze, however, was laser-focused on the two of you. His black robes billowed ominously as he stalked over, his face a mask of fury. He took one look at the state of the classroom—the scorched walls, the overturned cauldron, the puddles of ruined potion—and his expression darkened even further.

"Ms. Cromwell, Mr. Riddle," he hissed, each word sharp and clipped. "Detention. Both of you."

Your stomach dropped as his words sank in. You could feel your fellow students’ stares burning into the back of your head. Snape’s displeasure was one thing, but the thought of detention with Matteo? That was something else entirely.

"Sir—" you started, but Snape’s cold glare silenced you instantly.

"Save your excuses, Cromwell," he snapped. "I’m not interested in hearing them."

Then, his gaze shifted to Matteo, "Mr. Riddle," Snape’s voice dropped to a dangerously low register, "I expected better from my best student. Perhaps I was mistaken in assuming you were above this... childish behavior."

Matteo’s amusment from earlier faded, his expression tightening as Snape’s words hung in the air.

Snape, having made his point, straightened up, his voice sharp and unforgiving. "Both of you will stay behind after class to clean up this disaster you've created. And I expect it to be spotless. Fail, and you’ll both be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the term."

He turned on his heel, robes billowing as he stalked back to his desk, leaving the room in a tense, heavy silence. The rest of the class cast nervous glances in your direction, but no one dared to say a word.

You let out a shaky breath, your pulse still hammering in your ears. Matteo, however, remained disturbingly quiet, his expression unreadable.

Okay, You definitely owed him an apology.

Sucking in a breath you spoke "Matteo"

His lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, his gaze flickering back to meet yours, "Try not blow up anything else before detention. See you after class, Cromwell," he mocked

You jaw hung, but your were wordless, watching him causally brush himself down and walk out of the classroom, with Enzo and Theo following suit.

For some reason the thought of being alone with the Matteo Riddle in room for hours had sent your stomach doing flips, causing a wave nausea.

Whatever awaited you, one thing was certain: you weren’t just cleaning up a mess. You were walking straight into one.

[pupyr0arz]

Real quick Gaz/reader temporary breakup 📞

The phone rings, once, twice. Just long enough for you to fleetingly wonder if this is the time he won’t pick up, the time he’s moved on, or even something horrible happened.

Garrick picks up, like always. He doesn’t say anything, yoou never expect him to. He doesn’t call, doesn’t text first, you’re sure if you were in a room with him he’d be perfectly content with ignoring you until you walked up to him.

“Are you busy?” You forfeit plausible deniability, and your pride.

“Always,” Garrick tells you back, the fondness of his tone grating your already shot nerves, “but never too much for you.” 

It’s a talent of his to sound so insufferably, ephemerally smug. You know he’s winning, he knows he’s winning, and you’re helplessly trying to find a foothold to defend your position. Until he convinces you to abandon it like everything else.

God this is pathetic. You’re being pathetic. You need to actually grow a spine today. 

“How did you get my address? I didn’t tell you I moved.” He laughs easily, your irritation breaking over him without so much of a fight. “I’m serious Garrick, are you fucking having me followed? I swear to god—“

“I asked your mother.” He says breezily, and your jaw snaps shut with an audible click. “She thought the flowers were charming. We had a wonderful conversation.”

You tilt the phone away from your face, searching for a moment's respite. He’s caught you in this, tooth in leg, and you’re not sure how to wiggle out with your pride intact. Your thumb hovers briefly over the red button to end the call.

No, that would be handing Garrick what he wants, fleeing is as good as submission.

You press the phone back to your ear, anger renewed. “I don’t give her a play by play of my day.” You retort sharply, packing in as much disdain as you can spit. “I just didn’t want to be lectured by her. You shouldn’t have called.”

“I didn’t realize we were at the point that we’ve both realized telling people we’ve broken up isn’t worth the hassle.” Garrick marvels, half to himself. “What a milestone, dove.”

“Shut. Up. It’s weird that you’re still calling my mother.” You bite out, teeth grinding. He’s always so goddamn condescending. “Stop talking about ‘we’.”

“You just didn’t want to hear her tell you the truth when you broke the news again, hm? That we’re good together, that it isn’t going to last, that you should stop trying to ruin this.”

“Me? I’m not the goddamn problem here, Garrick! Maybe if you listened to me for once in your life, you could understand why we’re finished!” 

“Call me Kyle.” He says abruptly, completely unconcerned with your outburst.

“What? I’m not doing that. No.”

“Dovie,” he says simperingly. “I just miss how you say my name. You always call me Garrick when you’re huffy.”

The grip on your phone is starting to get dangerously tight. “Don’t call me or my parents again.” You bite out, and move to hand up.

“You called—“ Kyle gets out before the call ends, and you toss your phone onto your bed. It bounces off, but you don’t have it in you to give a shit if it’s cracked just yet, unwhetted frustration like a coiled spring.

You’re not going back to him. It’s done this time. You’re going to toss out all of his things, and get someone to change the locks tomorrow and everything, and this time you aren’t bluffing. You’re not.

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 ★ || seo c.b

★ summary: changbin has been so stressed out with the upcoming school semester. his professors are already drowning him in piles upon piles of work. and don't even get him started on his major. that's where y/n comes in. he can just sense how stressed out his poor boyfriend is, so he gets changbin's favorite food and some booze, making a date of the once stressful night.

★ characters: seo changbin, y/n

★ warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, reader is the sweetest boyf ever, vanilla sex, unprotected sex (say it with me, wrap it before you tap it), this is the softest thing ive written yet, changbin is stressed out from school, reader comforts changbin, mentions of alcohol, mentions of selling crack, changbin has body image issues in this one

★ word count: ~2.1K

★ requested?: yep, thank you @belladonna6-6-6

★ binnie's thoughts: i love domestic shit, despite not ever being in a committed relationship, so i am pretty much living my fantasies through writing... i hope you like it anyways !

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

Changbin wants to drop out so badly at this moment. The semester started like two weeks ago and he wants to rip his hair out (“Babe don’t do that, we just dyed it back to a natural color after that green disaster!” He can hear your voice scolding him without you even having to be near him.). The poor boy is knee-deep in work already, and his dumb professors just keep adding to the pile. What’s he even getting out of doing all this work, anyways? A stupid piece of paper? He majors in music production, in what world will he ever need to know the formula to calculate the circumference of a triangle or whatever the hell it is? 

Changbin lets out his nth groan of the night, his face falling onto his open textbook. He feels tears behind his eyes from the frustration of it all. He wonders if he’s the only one struggling to keep up with all this work. He knows he should probably get up and move his aching legs, but the thought of falling behind on getting everything finished fills him with an anxious feeling. As he contemplates dropping out and selling crack on the street, a knock at his door causes him to open his eyes. He turns on his phone that sits beside his textbook. 10:46 p.m stares back at him. He’s a bit confused, he isn’t expecting anyone to be at his door at this time, so who could it be?

It couldn’t be Chan, he’s glued to his chair at the studio, slaving away making tracks for his music production class. It couldn’t be Jisung, either. He’s knocked out after spending the day with his long-time crush, Minho. So that really leaves only one person, but he honestly thought you would also be asleep after your shift at the campus’ daycare. Chasing kids of various ages all day is pretty draining work. 

Changbin gets up and opens his door, the stress of school and turning in half-assed assignments fleeing his body as his eyes land on your million-dollar smile. Your arms are carrying bags of all kinds, and his nose picks up the sweet smell of takeout from the joint just outside of the campus. 

“Binnie, I come bearing food and alcohol!” you sing as you make your way into his dorm. Changbin feels like he could cry. Not from frustration this time, but from happiness and love. Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect, he was close to having a mental breakdown, nothing going right for him. 

“I had a feeling you were glued to your chair, slaving away doing your work. And judging by the way you’re looking at me, my feeling was correct.” You place the bags down by the couch, and make your way to your hunky boyfriend. Standing in front of him, you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a quick squeeze. Changbin’s hands automatically wrap around your waist, tugging you close to his warm body. He holds you tight for a few seconds longer, a silent thank you for coming to distract him from the cause of his stress. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to have you here right now. I was so close to ripping out my hair and crying in the shower with my clothes on,” Changbin mutters in your ear, his breath tickling you a bit, making you chuckle softly. 

You pull away slightly, your arms still his neck, hands clasped at the nape of his neck loosely. “I’m glad I could help, babe. Why don’t you call it a night and have a romantic date with me right here?” 

Changbin simply nods and presses a gentle kiss on your lips. He loves kissing you, it’s one of his favorite things to do with you. Kisses of any kind will always do it for him. Whether it be just a sweet peck or a full blown Frenchie, he easily becomes putty in your embrace. When things get intimate between you two, his plump lips have to be on you in some way, it really doesn’t matter to him, as long as he can smooch you as many times as he wants to.  You pull away from the kiss and your voice brings him back to reality. “I hope you’re hungry. I would be surprised if you weren’t, to be honest,” you say, making your way to the bags of food sitting on the table in front of the puke-green couch he found at the thrift store (you’ve always hated that damn couch, it’s tacky and an unflatteringly green color, you wish he would just get rid of it.). Changbin just chuckles, watching as you pull out two styrofoam boxes out of the bag. He plants his tired body on the couch, immediately sinking into the semi-comfortable cushions. He grabs the remotes to his TV and finds something for the two of you to watch while you eat. He starts up the movie when you sit beside him, cold drinks in your hands for you both.

The movie is long forgotten as you and Changbin make out lazily on the couch. His heavier body is on top of yours, his hands under your shirt, softly roaming the expanse of your chest and stomach. Any noise that leaves your mouth is muffled by Changbin’s soft and juicy lips. 

Both of you grind your lower bodies together, your clothed cocks rubbing together despite the layers in between. Changbin pulls away from your lips, chuckling at the way you chase him, trying to get more kisses from him. His thumb swipes along your swollen bottom lip, wiping the saliva left behind. “God, you’re so sexy, baby. I love everything about you, there is nothing you could do to make me not like you.” Changbin can’t help the words coming from his mouth, he’s just so drunk on your love that his mind is only thinking one thing: you. 

“Oh, Binnie. I love you so much, you’re perfect for me, love.” You reply, returning the sweet words as your hand cups his cheek gently, prompting him to connect his lips with yours once again. You hum, bringing your free hand under his loose shirt, the material pooling around his upper chest. Changbin gets the hint, pulling away from you so you can tug his shirt off. Once the shirt is discarded and forgotten, you zero in on Changbin’s impressive body. He has the nicest body you’ve ever seen in your life, he’s muscular, his skin is nice and soft like a peach, with the occasional mole littering the flesh. 

Changbin’s face warms up at your intense stare. “Baby, don’t stare, it’s embarrassing..” he mutters, his usually loud voice now soft and quiet. Your eyes flit up to look at the pools of deep brown. You’re aware of Changbin’s body image issues, he’s been very open with you about his true feelings about how he views his body. That’s why you have made it your mission to make sure this sweet boy knows that his body is perfect no matter what. 

You tell him what you always tell him when he starts feeling this way, “Binnie, whether you are skinny, fat, muscular, or squishy, you are perfect to me and I’m not with you because of your body. I’m with you because you are a genuine person with the best personality in the world. I’m with you because you love me for who I am, just like I love you for who you are.” 

Changbin can’t ignore the slight sting in his eyes and the rapid fluttering in his stomach. He truly loves you and he knows he wants to spend every waking moment of his life with you. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to. His actions speak much louder than any word he could possibly say. 

His hands strip you of your shirt, and his lips make their way all over your chest, and he makes his way to the waistband of your basketball shorts. He tugs the shorts down until they’re at your ankles. You kick the garment off, careful not to kick Changbin… again. Changbin’s eyes roam your almost naked body, his teeth toying with his bottom lip. 

“Oi, why am I almost naked while you’re sitting there with your joggers still on? Chop chop, mister!” The pout on your lips is just so cute, Changbin can’t stop the laugh bubbling from his chest. Changbin removes himself from the couch, and he walks over to where you’re laid out on the couch, and he hooks one of his arms under the back of your knees, his other arm wrapping around your back, and he lifts you up with ease. A startled noise falls out of your mouth, your arm wrapping around him in urgency. You know he would never drop you, but being picked up out of the blue has never been your thing. You allow Changbin to carry you to his room, and he carefully lays you down on his very comfy mattress, and he rids himself of his dark gray joggers.

With his hands on his hips, he cocks an eyebrow at you, “Are you happy now? We’re both equal amounts of nakedness.” 

“Hmm, you drop your boxers and I’ll drop mine. Then we’ll definitely be even.”

“Anything for you, my prince.” 

“Don’t you ever call me that again, Changbin.”

After you both are fully naked, you both allow your hands to explore each other’s bodies, even though you’ve done it a million times in the duration of your four year relationship. Changbin is kissing you softly while his hand is splitting your hole open with three fingers lodged deep inside. You’re whining into his mouth, your back arching off the bed below you. Your cock is painfully hard, the tip of it a flushed red color similar to your natural skin tone. 

Changbin pulls away from your lips, and he starts to speak to you, “I want to try a new position, baby,” you just nod at him and allow the male to adjust you the way he wants to. He pulls your body to the edge of the bed, and he stands in between your spread legs. He takes his length in his hand, pumping it a few times before he places the tip at your fluttering hole, rubbing the tip along the crack of your ass before he’s pushing past your rim. You will never get over that initial pressure of his cock sliding past your hole, it always feels weird, but that weird feeling is quickly gone as soon as Changbin’s hips snap forward. 

Changbin sets the pace, his hand on your lower stomach as his hips come in contact with the back of your thighs, the sharp sounds of skin slapping together echoes loudly in the small room. You’re letting out the prettiest noises, whines and soft chants of Changbin’s name falling past your parted lips. Changbin doesn’t speed up or slow down, he thinks this pace is just right for you both, he wants to thank you for always being there for him, and he wants the moment to last a little longer than it normally would. His length slides in and out of you, his many veins rubbing your walls in the best way. Your hand is lazily stroking your own length, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as the pleasure courses through your body. Changbin is grunting above you, his hands gripping your hips tightly, tugging your body to meet his thrusts. 

The two of you continue to fuck like that for a while, and you know Changbin is close because his grunts turn into soft whines, his name falling from his lips as his hips begin to stutter and skip. Changbin ends up pulling out you and he takes his length as well as your own length. He jerks you both off until you both spill on his hand, moaning each other's names as you finish. Changbin pants as he uses his arms to hold himself up on the bed, his legs feeling like jelly. You scoot on the bed until you’re laying normally. 

You look at Changbin as you catch your breath, a smile on your face. After sex glow looks good on Changbin, he’s all sweaty and his hair sticks to his forehead, his pupils blown wide as he comes down from his high. You watch as he wipes his hands on one of his many dirty towels that sits on the floor. Looks like you’ll have to do some laundry while he’s in class tomorrow. 

“Binnie, come cuddle with me, I’m sleepy,” You whine, your arms wide and welcoming. He just chuckles and jumps into your arms, peppering kisses all over your sweaty face, making you laugh. You would do anything for this man, and you can only hope he feels the same way.

[jtl-fics]

WIP Wednesday

So here is a brief bit of Future!Andrew in my Math Nerd AU. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. Andrew's in a dark place.

Trigger Warnings: Depression / Grief, Planning Suicide, suicidal thoughts, and suicide

Andrew holds the urn in his arms and regrets.

Neil had died alone in that hospital room. Died alone because Andrew had never had the courage to get down on one knee and propose properly. Died alone and in pain because Andrew had never gotten the POAs he’d considered multiple times for both of them, but he hadn’t because it felt like admitting too much. Died alone, in pain, and…

Andrew could only ever tell Neil that he hated him.

Andrew knows that Neil knew he didn’t hate him. Neil had understood that Andrew would never live with someone he actually hated. Neil had understood that Andrew wouldn’t have adopted pets with someone he hated. Neil had understood that Andrew wouldn’t let someone he hated touch him the way that Neil had been allowed to touch him.

Andrew doesn’t know if Neil understood that Andrew loved him.

Andrew isn’t even sure if he had fully understood until it was too late and Neil had died alone, in pain, and unsure of Andrew’s love because Andrew had never said it.

He looks down at the urn and the list of ‘options’ Neil had given him and knows that Neil had not understood that Andrew could not and would not continue to live their future alone.

His friends and family had seem to accept that this was only the first funeral.

Neil’s will was short and sweet. He had left everything to Andrew Joseph Minyard and Andrew spent the month after Neil’s funeral sorting out his own arrangements.

He left large amounts to both of his Nieces and felt faintly bad that he was never going to see them grow up but he had almost puked when Lilly had asked him where Uncle Neil was.

He couldn’t answer her.

He’s going to where Uncle Neil is.

He’ll claw his way to wherever Neil had gone in the great beyond and he’ll tell him this time. Even an eternity in hellfire being tortured next to Neil was better than a single moment without Neil.

He gives Kevin their cats.

Kevin takes Duchess and Lady (King’s daughters) and he looks at Andrew with watery eyes, “He wouldn’t want-“

“I want Neil.” Andrew had said and Kevin’s jaw clenches so hard that Andrew wonders if he cracks a tooth.

Kevin takes a large number of their pictures. More than even Matt, Aaron or Nicky had taken. Andrew watches as Kevin puts them up among the three pictures of pride of the Day household. The large framed photos of Kevin, Jean, Jeremy, Neil, and Andrew through their years winning Olympic Gold for America.

Neil’s smile is so beautiful in each photo that Andrew leaves early.

He wants Neil.

He can’t sleep right without Neil.

He had never once held Neil and slept but they’d shared a bed for years and years. Andrew can’t sleep without that precious weight on the other side of the bed. Neil’s scent is fading from the linens and Andrew struggles to find one of Neil’s shirts that still smells like him.

Renee tries the hardest to change his mind.

Her beliefs are strong as ever but when she had showed up in person to talk to him and had seen how he looked she must have realized that there was nothing she could say to convince him.

She holds him tight and she prays for him.

Then she lets him go.

Neil had been surprisingly thorough in his instructions for his funeral.

Andrew knows that Neil had often planned it out as a way to manage the stress of the whole situation with the Moriyamas. Neil had lived a decade with the threat of his own demise should he fail to give Ichirou the profits the man desired. It had been better after Neil’s accident and subsequent year spent in PT and as Ichirou’s accountant.

Ichirou had released Neil from his deal after the man had gotten his first ever tax return and had even promised to release Jean and Kevin if Neil agreed to become his full-time accountant after he retired from Exy.

Neil had agreed.

The years afterwards had been bliss and Neil had retired when his old injury made it too painful to play. Andrew had been mystified that he would have a longer professional career than Neil but Andrew had come to tolerate Exy and the money he was paid to stand in the goal and do something he was naturally good at was too good to turn away from.

He and Neil had lived comfortably, had traveled, were going to see Australia in two months to enjoy the off season.

But now Neil was gone.

Andrew laid down in the bed he had shared with Neil. He had one of Neil’s favorite shirts under his cheek and held Neil’s urn in his arms.

Neil had been very clear that he wanted to be cremated and that he wanted his ashes to be with Andrew.

Neil had left him numerous ideas on what Andrew could do with them. He could imagine Neil smiling as he found out about some of them. He wonders if Neil had smiled over his top suggestion which was a link to a website that would forge weapons, knives, out of ashes.

Andrew has not used Neil’s body.

The thought of turning any part of Neil into the the weapon that had hurt him so many times was agonizing.

Still, he knows that Neil likely put it down as an option because Neil would never believe that Andrew would actually keep Neil’s ashes close if he couldn’t be useful to Andrew in some practical way.

Neil never would have imagined that his urn was a relic that Andrew would cherish and hold onto. The ashes inside were the only thing that made it possible for him to keep going as he set all of his affairs in order.

Neil was so stupid and Andrew missed him like he would miss both of his lungs.

The drugs were kicking in.

Ichirou had reached out and expressed his sincere condolences. The man who had killed the Moriyama accountant would pay dearly but Andrew had hardly cared. A drunken man’s death would not bring Neil back to him.

Ichirou had offered him something else.

“For a nominal fee and as an act of my respect for Neil’s efforts for my family I can get you what you seek.” Ichirou had said cryptically but Andrew had understood.

He paid Ichirou and Ichirou had delivered Andrew what he needed to go and see Neil.

He wouldn’t cut himself. Neil had been so proud when he’d reached 10 years without a relapse.

The world is growing darker. Neil’s scent growing fainter no matter how he presses his face into the shirt.

He holds on to Neil’s urn.

He’ll see him soon.

***

Andrew wakes up.

He’s going to fucking murder Ichirou Moriyama.

For that insane ‘nominal fee’ Andrew should not be waking up.

His head aches and his mouth is like sandpaper, “Andrew, are you okay?” A voice that is familiar but wrong comes from his side and when Andrew cracks his eye open (blurry, is that blood) he sees Aaron, except it can’t be Aaron because he looks like he’s 20 again.

What the fuck.

[camille-lachenille]

Star-daughter 3/?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

* Elwing is not a doting mother, exactly, but she is fiercely protective of her family. She has lost too many people not to fight tooth and nails for the ones she has left. And so, when a Maia of Námo comes to her tower she holds her ground.

* She stands very straight in her doorway, barring the way to her family. Elwing isn’t short but the Maia is still a head taller than her; it doesn’t keep her from looking down at them.

* “What brings you here?” she asks, cold and sharp as the Grinding Ice.

* The Maia nods in greeting. I bring no ill news, daughter of Lúthien. Their voice is more thought than sound, wafting through Elwing’s mind like a cool mist.

* She glares at the messenger, waiting for them to get to the point. There is a reason Elwing avoids Maiar as much as she can, save for the followers of Ulmo; none of them can give a straight answer or speak plainly.

* My Lord Námo sends for you, the Maia says at last. To welcome someone back to life as their closest kind.

* Elwing’s icy facade cracks at the news and she digs sharp nails into her palms to keep her composure. “All of my kin on these shores lives here or on Tol-Eresseä,” she replies sharply. “The rest of them is beyond my reach until the breaking of the world, as it was made clear when I first came here.”

* The Maia tilts their head to one side, seemingly thoughtful despite their features being hidden by a deep hood. And yet there is one who seeks you. Lord Námo would have him re-embodied before too long for his Halls are not a place for young souls to dwell in forever. His mother is not ready to leave, so it falls to you to welcome your brother back.

* Elwing slams her door to the Maia’s face and crumbles to the floor. Her brother. Only one of them. She doesn’t even know which one.

* As she sobs where she fell, she wishes Eärendil to be there, for her mother who will not walks amongst the living again.

* Someone wraps a blanket around her shoulders, picks her up, gently sets her on the sofa with a cup of warm tea. Elwing breathes through her mouth, blows her nose with the proffered handkerchief. At last she drinks the tea and looks up at Finrod who gives her a small smile.

* “I cannot do it,” she tells him. He knows, somehow. He was probably hovering just out of sight while she faced the Maia, ready to come and help.

* Finrod sighs tiredly and sits beside her, pulls her in a warm hug. Elwing tucks her head under his chin like a child and focuses on matching his breaths. “It will be hard,” Finrod says at long last. “Hard and painful and ugly, but if someone can do it it’s you, my dear friend. And I will be just behind you to help, Elrodel and Amdir too if I know your children at all. And Huan loves looking after little ones.“

* He is right of course. Infuriatingly so. And so, Elwing nods and goes to pack for the journey to the gardens of Lórien where the newly returned wait for their kin. Finrod keeps the tower for her and writes to her children who are currently visiting friends on Tol-Eresseä.

* Elwing rides on Huan’s back and, if not for the painful feeling in her chest, she could feel like she was living one of her grandmother’s adventures. Or maybe Lúthien was just as terrified as she is when she rode to find Beren…

* Lórien is a beautiful place, but Elwing cannot find any peace there as she is led by a butterfly-Maia to the place her brother awaits for her. She still doesn’t know which one and she won’t ask.

* In her heart she fears what it means that only one of them is returned. Has she lost yet another loved one to Mortality? She would call it a curse if it was not such blasphemy to the memory of her grandmother.

* They come to a halt as Elwing sees the little boy sitting in a clearing, his bare feet in a bubbling stream. She presses a hand to her mouth to stifle her cry and compose herself. This cannot be her older brother, he is so small and young! And yet. And yet this one of her older brother, for he looks like he walked out of the few precious memories she has of her family.

* The butterfly-Maia flies around the boy, Eluréd or Elurín she still doesn’t know, and perches on his outstretched hand. They must have said something in his mind for her brother turns back and looks at her.

* “You are not my mum!” he says, distress clear on his round face. “The butterfly said family would come for me! I want my mum!” his voice trails up in a high pitched whine and his eyes fill with tears. Elwing carefully comes to sit in the grass, not too close to him.

* “I am not your mum, indeed,” she says as softly as she can, her best reassuring smile plastered on her face like a mask while her heart thunders in her chest. “I know you can’t recognise me because a lot of time has passed while you were in Mandos but I am Elwing, your sister.” Her brother stares at her, clearly disbelieving, and Elwing swallows the lump in her throat. She can do this. Finrod told her and he is nearly always right.

* She breathes deeply before continuing, her hands lying outstretched in the grass. “I know it’s hard to believe, I didn’t believe the Maia who told me to come here at first. But I know mother is still in the Halls, as is grandfather Elu, and I was the only one who could come for you…”

* Her brother looks down and kicks his feet in the water. “You can’t be Elwing! My sister’s a baby!” he cries, voice trembling despite his anger. “I wasn’t in Mandos for that long and, anyway, I hate this place! I want to go home with mum and dad!” He is crying for good now, tears streaming down his face and shoulders shaking with heavy sobs.

* Elwing looks up at the leaves fluttering in the breeze, trying not to burst into tears herself. She is the adult here, and it is her role to comfort a distressed child; no matter the child is her older brother. She wishes for Eärendil to be here with her, for Finrod, anyone. But she has to do this alone.

* “I want to go home too,” she says slowly. “But sometimes we can’t have what we want and have to be very brave about it. Do you remember when we had to move from grandad and grandma’s house to Menengroth? I was very small then and don’t remember much but I remember you took my hand and told me we were going on an adventure and I had to be brave about it.”

* The old, old memory hurts as she recalls it from the deepest corner of her memory and yet it soothes something in her at the same time. It feels like she is comforting her past self as well as her brother.

* Her brother looks up, face blotchy from crying and a strange expression on his face. “That’s Elurín who told you that,” he says. “I was looking for good sticks to make swords with so we could protect you. But you’re all grownup now and… and I want to go home with Elurín!”

* It is Eluréd then, Elwing notes as she leans toward her brother with her arms wide open. He throws himself at her, sobbing and leaving a wet, snotty spot on her shoulder. Elwing hugs her brother tightly, unable to hold her own tears back anymore.

* "I wish Elúrin was here too. I wish we were never parted, El,” she whispers in his soft silver hair. Where was her second brother? Did he choose the Gift of Men too? Is he sundered from her forever? She locks these thoughts away with her old grief for her father and for her son.

* “I can’t bring mum and dad back, nor our home, but I can show you my home now,” Elwing says at last. “I have children and friends who will be very happy to meet you.”

* Eluréd looks up at that. “You’ve got children?” he asks with wide eyes. At her nod he makes a face. “That means you got married! Ewww!” he cries.

* Elwing can’t help her sudden burst of laughter, loud and shrill. A flock of birds flies off from the tree above them as she laughs. “Oh, I reassure you, I’m not doing kissy-faces at Eärendil all day long! In fact, my husband is often away, but that is a long story. I will tell you all about him and our children on our way to my house. Now, why don’t we go to the edge of the gardens and eat something?”

* They walk out of Lórien as the sun sets and find Huan waiting for them where Elwing left him. The huge hound is laying on his side, tongue lolling out and seemingly perfectly happy. Eluréd gasps at the sight and grips Elwing’s hand tighter, looking between Huan and her with big round eyes.

* She gently nudges him forward. “Yes, it’s Huan from grandma’s stories. Go on, he’s been very excited to meet you!” Eluréd lets go of her hand and takes a few steps toward the hound before stopping, one hand outstretched.

* Huan looks up and boofs softly looking at Eluréd. His tail starts wagging and the little boy smiles at that, finally taking the final few steps and throwing himself at the hound for a hug. Huan’s tail picks up speed as he rolls on his back, Eluréd clinging to his belly, and playfully licks his face.

* Elúred shrieks in mixed joy and surprise and Elwing smiles through her tears. She knows it won’t be easy and many obstacles awaits them but she can see herself doing that now, raising her brother and learning to be a family again.