#been thinking about this show a lot lately

[vapekingg]

I saw your requests are open??!! Does that mean I can ask for something very angsty? 🥺

Of courseeee

Pairing: Dom!Mechanic!EddiexFem!Reader Tags: angst, broken up, established relationship, fingering Dividers by: @inklore

Rabbit

Your parents thought they were doing you a favor when they bought you an almost-new Buick Century. It's a pile of shit, and it comes with baggage in the form of flesh and bone.

Your ex Eddie is the only mechanic in Hawkins that will touch the fucking thing, and it gets touched... a lot. More than you do since your most recent break up. And maybe your old hunk of junk knew that you'd been thinking about your ex lately, deep into the evening when your vibrator just isn’t cutting it. The power steering went out this morning and Eddie didn't hesitate to let you tow the thing to his garage after closing hours when you called to reluctantly break your no-contact streak.

Now, you're passing him tools.

Well, you're passing him beers.

He hasn't said much to you since you got here, or since the break up. But you haven't said much to him either. The sound of cicadas screaming outside of the open garage door fills any empty silence, along with the clanking of a wrench (maybe?) against metal. He makes little grunts every now and then, and you can imagine his face. The clench of his jaw, the squint of his focused eyes. You sit on the ground next to your car just like you always have while he works. He liked you to keep him company. If he still does, you can’t tell.

It’s late at night by the time Eddie finally rolls out from beneath that piece of shit. He has gloves on, a habit he’d formed because of you. You always liked visiting him at work, after all of his coworkers were gone for the day. The mechanic get up really does it for you, and Eddie never wanted to dirty you up. He wanted to fucking ruin you for anyone else — and he has — but never dirty your pretty exterior.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask him for the first time ever.

You expect him to laugh, or maybe to smile. Instead his eyebrows knit together with something between confusion and frustration. His face is hard — upset, even. He snaps off the elastic, grease covered gloves and leaves them discarded on the ground near your tire, starting then toward the mini-fridge in the corner for one last beer.

“Tell Jason he can come by and pay your tab,” Eddie responds as he leans over, fog from the fridge swarming his feet and creeping up his calves. Your eyes travel upward with the inching up the clouds to drink in his toned thighs, his narrow waist. It doesn’t take much for you to start daydreaming about the way his boxer-briefs are hugging his flesh beneath all of those clothes.

It hits you though, what he said, and your heart drops. Your eyes snap up to meet his and that look of upset on his face has morphed into something of betrayal. His lips are curled into a hard frown, arms crossing over his chest after that initial ice cold sip.

“Heard you guys were hangin’ out lately.”

“Oh, is that what you heard.” You mumble sarcastically underneath your breath.

But Eddie catches it, and he’s never been one to let your slick tongue go untested. Your attention is caught by the quick cock of his eyebrow.

“Watch it, princess.”

That’s what he’s telling you. But it’s been weeks, and the feeling of Eddie’s palm coming down unforgivingly on your ass is more enticing to you than not feeling him at all, so you bring yourself to your feet.

“If it’s that big of a deal to work on my car then I’ll just take it to someone else.” You smart back.

And that does make him smile. A shit-eating, cocky half grin that creeps crooked up his face and shows off his boyish dimples. You’re a fucking sucker, and Eddie knows it.

He pushes off of the work bench behind him and takes one stalking step toward you.

“Right,” Eddie’s dark eyes wander down your chin and trace your bare shoulders, voice quiet under the scream of insects outside. “Because that’s worked out so well every other time.”

Maybe you had worn his old cut up Corroded Coffin tank top on purpose, but at least he was taking interest. His gaze travels over your form, slowing across the hills of your breasts and the curve of your hips. You regret standing up now. Somehow you feel smaller with every slow, deliberate step that he takes forward.

“What are you really doing here? Jason not giving it to you good enough?”

Eddie’s staring at you like you’re meat, like you’re a feast for picking. The pink of his tongue darts out to wet his velvet lips as his eyes begin to travel back up. Circling your plump thighs, crawling up your soft stomach. He takes another few steps, and then he’s right there, just a foot or so away. Close enough that when he reaches forward, his fingers hook loosely into the belt loop of your shorts.

He tugs gently, thumb teasing the hem to dip just inside. His eyes are glassed over when they meet yours, he’s a little drunk, loose enough to play on the emotion that always draws you back together.

Eddie tilts his head to the side sympathetically and parts his lips, “He not fucking you hard enough, angel?”

Your skin burns. Right where his thumb strokes, a hole is being seared into your flesh. A wildfire spreading throughout your abdomen once he slips another digit beneath the hem of your shorts, joining the other to toy with the lace embroidery of your panties. A knowing smile plays at his lips when he realizes you’ve worn his favorite pair.

“You been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” Eddie’s palm slides against your abdomen as he slips his hand further into your shorts, fisting the thin fabric of your panties gently so that it tightens against your clit.

You bite back a moan, but Eddie knows you. Inside and out. He recognizes how your back straightens and your eyes go all hazy when he’s making you feel good. And making you feel good makes him feel good.

“Yeah, I bet you have. That rabbit just ain’t cuttin’ it, huh?”

It’s absolutely not cutting it.

You think about him, every night. With that silicone working between your thighs. You squeeze your eyes closed and remember the unforgiving snap of Eddie’s hips as he drives himself into you. How he’d sneak in through your bedroom window and hold his hand over your mouth so that your parents wouldn’t hear.

He takes another step toward you, his hand flattening against your mound as he traps you between his form and your car.

“Answer me, baby.”

But when you open your mouth to deny these allegations, his middle finger glides over your clit, stroking through your folds to make note of your obvious arousal.

“And don’t bother lying,” he continues.

Another digit joins his middle finger, calloused appendages moving in gentle motions around the most neglected parts of you. You can’t help but to reach for him. His collar. His wrist. Anywhere that will anchor the two of you together. Anything that will keep him from leaving you.

“I—” you begin, voice shaky but determined, “I’ve… missed you.”

Like the setting of the sun beneath the horizon, Eddie’s face shifts in nature. His mocha eyes blacken. Any restraint he was showing you prior sinks to the ground as he buries two fingers deep inside your sopping cunt and pins you against the side of your car with his hip.

“What’ve you missed?” He spits, free hand ripping up to capture your throat in a vice.

Eddie curls his fingers forward, and there’s that buzzing in your brain. That release of dopamine and endorphins that keeps you crawling back to him. No one else is quite this addictive.

"This," you mewl with no thought behind the words. Your body goes slack and you're held up by his hands alone. "This. I've missed this."

“Yeah you have,” he teases.

And just as quickly as it begins, Eddie yanks his hand out of your shorts. He leaves you empty, soaking, desperate for more.

But instead of being the hand that feeds you, Eddie takes a step back. He brings his fingers to his lips and his tongue darts out to lap at the coated digits.

An audible groan leaves his throat as he leans back against his workbench.

“Just like fuckin’ candy,” he says, then punches the red button that releases the lift rack that’s barely holding your car off the ground. It begins to lower behind you.

“I’d hate for you to keep Jason waiting,” Eddie continues with a cheeky grin.

He knows that Jason prefers his girls studious, timely.

But Eddie just prefers you. And until you’re his again… well, his preference is irrelevant.

[genericpuff]

What do you think about Reachel's new redraw?

I feel like the characters look good but the background is too gray compared to the original one 😕

It's pretty rough, ngl. Not even necessarily because of the art itself, but because it's not a panel she should have ever redrawn to begin with.

The whole point of that scene was to showcase Persephone bringing life into the Underworld, a place where only death existed, but in this redraw it completely lacks that messaging, resulting in a scene of Persephone and Hades simply hugging each other in the dark with very dead-looking foliage surrounding them.

On a structural level, the composition has gone from vertical to horizontal, giving us way too much empty space around them which, again, is failed by the background being so dull and lifeless; Persephone's somehow become even smaller; and worst of all (though I'm sure some people will think I'm overreacting) her hair isn't tucked up in Hades' arms anymore, it's just sort of falling perfectly over his shoulder as one solid goop of pink, strangely changing shape as if it's resting on something but there's clearly nothing there.

That said, my opinions should be taken with grains of salt because I also have a lot of personal beef with a redraw like this - that original panel was my phone background for like, 2 years, and the episode it came from is still one of my favorites of all time in spite of all the criticisms I now have of the series, with art that originally inspired me to want to learn how to draw like Rachel.

There's been a lot of evidence over the past year or so to suggest that Rachel has "fallen out of touch" with her own work and these redraws that she's been making lately feel like tangible proof of that. The context in which she created those original panels no longer exists so to try and redraw them fundamentally misses the point of why they were so iconic to begin with.

I can understand that feeling of falling out of touch with your own work, to the point of not even seeing the appeal of it yourself anymore, but that's all the more reason to keep moving forward, not back. The fact that she's still just muddling around with LO stuff despite announcing two more projects and seemingly not making any progress with either the TV show or Rachel Smythe Presents... it really does seem like she's stuck in limbo. The deadlines and contractual obligations aren't there to motivate her anymore, and while that may now have freed her from the burden of creating LO in such a cramped and unhealthy space - now being able to create it simply for herself - I think the years of working on it have definitely taken its toll on her ability to create the way she used to and so we're seeing those growing pains now.

The real bummer about it is that it's being celebrated as "growth" but it's about as much growth as the illustrated environment above - dead and bleak.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“Rings of Power” 2x07 - Speculation and Clues 

Now that we established the “leaks” are fake, let’s get down to business and speculate next episode, for real this time.  

What’s confirmed for Episode 7? 

According to the director, it will be an Elrond-centered episode 

Battle of Eregion: Orcs (lead by Adar) vs. Elven army (lead by Elrond) 

Adar and Elrond share a chat (“You cannot defeat me in battle” Adar warns Elrond)

Arondir joins the battle 

Annatar and Celebrimbor ("what have you done to me?"/“finish the Nine, and I’ll spare your city” )

Elrond at Khazad-dûm with Prince Durin (asking the Dwarves to help in the Battle of Eregion)

Galadriel and Celebrimbor emotional exchange

Want leaks? These are the real leaks.

My guess is this dynamic (Battle of Eregion/Elrond and Annatar/Celebrimbor) will be the core of Episode 7, with Arondir side plot. Maybe Isildur and Theo, as well.

Annatar & Celebrimbor - "Who are you, truly?"

From the preview teaser, we know the “what have you done to me?” scene will take place in 2x07. So, it’s almost certain that Celebrimbor will discover Annatar’s true identity in this episode. He also finds out that Eregion is under attack, while Sauron/Annatar promises he can spare the city if Celebrimbor completes the Nine rings of power. 

Two possible scenarios here: 

Celebrimbor finishes the Nine, and only then he discovers Annatar is actually Sauron. This would mean that Annatar/Sauron would still pretend to be an emissary of the Valar when Celebrimbor finds out Eregion is under seige; 

Celebrimbor discovers Annatar is actually Sauron. Then, Sauron blackmails him into finishing the Nine rings of power.  

I'm betting on the second option.

Mostly because we, the audience, have yet to find out that the “miraculous mithril powder” Sauron gave to Celebrimbor in 2x06 isn’t mithril at all. My guess it’s Sauron’s blood (we saw him performing blood magic in 2x06), to mix into the alloy of the Nine rings of power, to bind and enslave the future ring-bearers to his will and create the Nazgûl (the “Ringwraiths”). And thus explaining why the Nine work differently from the Seven (the Dwarves’ rings of power won’t bind them to Sauron’s will, but create greed and lust for gold).  

I think Celebrimbor will discover this, and that's why he tries to destroy the Nine (to stop Sauron). And, when we see Celebrimbor crying on the trailer, I think it’s after he realizes what he has done; not only at being deceived, or Eregion being under attack, but mainly because he gave Sauron the means through which he’ll conquer and enslave all of Middle-earth.  

Celebrimbor will finish the Nine, and he will try to destroy them, only to find out he can’t.

Will Sauron take a hold of the Nine in 2x07 or 2x08? 

I'm betting late 2x07, because 2x08 has a lot to deal with and many plots to close, and prep-up for Season 3.

This might be a wild guess, but I think Sauron is talking about Mirdania here, and she might be the one who gives him the Nine, bringing full circle as to why Sauron has been earning her trust and loyalty all season: for her to do his bidding, no matter what (causing fraction between the smiths, preventing Celebrimbor from finding out about the attack on Eregion, etc.). Will she leave with Sauron? I don't think so; his eye is set on another prize. She’s R.I.P. for sure, and probably won’t even survive this episode. 

And this scene might actually be Sauron peacing out of Eregion with the rings of power, at the end of 2x07.

Elrond/Adar - Battle of Eregion

From the preview teaser and the trailers, we already know how this will go down (somewhat). In some teasers we’ve seen Elrond with a wound on his face, I think this will only happen in 2x08, and not in 2x07. 

We also know Elrond will go to Khazad-dûm, and ask Prince Durin to provide aid in the Battle of Eregion. I think he’ll see Durin giving a speech to the Dwarves in 2x07, and King Durin III being against helping Eregion, but they won’t show up on the battle just yet (more on that later).

This will probably happen before the Elven army faces the Orc army, because logic.  

This attack somehow stops (probably because Adar will flaunt Galadriel in a cage), and Elrond and Adar will have a chat (as we’ve seen in Episode 7 preview). 

Adar will warn Elrond that his small Elven army can’t stop the Orc legions. My guess is he’ll use Galadriel as bargain here. As I’ve speculated before, Adar already expressed to Galadriel, in 2x06, his desire in knowing what comes after Sauron is defeated and the fate of the Orcs, seeking out a truce between Elves and Orcs, which would allow him and his “children” to live in peace, in Mordor. I believe he will propose this to Elrond, too. 

However, there might be a plot twist in this scene, because every character wants Sauron destroyed: and in 2x07 Elrond might have to choose between saving Galadriel or stopping Sauron.  

Elrond & Galadriel - Elrond's Choice

As I’ve already speculated in Part 1 of my “Last Temptation” megathread, and with 2x07 being an Elrond-centered episode, it makes perfect sense for this to be the moment when he has to uphold the promise he made to Galadriel, in 2x04. And this is exactly what I’m guessing will happen, and the majority of the people on my "People's Choice" Poll are way off mark here. (Or I am, we'll see).

This scene from the trailer is, indeed, Elrond touching Galadriel’s face, at the Orc camp. And it will mirror the first time they were introduced to us in 1x01, but on reverse and sorrowful, because instead of greeting each other, they are saying farewell.

My bet is Elrond will allow Galadriel to remain as Adar’s prisoner, probably to lure Sauron out, in the hope they might save Eregion still, and stop the Orc attack on the city. Plot twist: it won't. Adar is so consumed by his desire for revenge against Sauron, he won’t stop the battle.

Ironically, the clue is in the actual trailer. 

My guess is this scene will play out like an actual goodbye between Elrond and Galadriel, because they believe they both can/will die (we, as the audience, know they won’t, but we can’t look at things that way). And no, there won’t be any kissing on the lips, for f*ck sake. Anyway, it will be a very emotional scene, nonetheless.

And this is why the showrunners decided to throw the Galadriel/Celebrimbor scene in Episode 7 preview, to make it seem it’s Elrond who frees Galadriel from Adar and the Orcs.  But now you’re asking: if we see her in Eregion with Celebrimbor, who lets her out from Adar’s captivity?  

The answer is: Ghûl, the Orc and Adar's wingman, wingorc? Winguruk? The Orc from whom Adar practically rips the war horn from at the end of Episode 6, to give out the signal to the Orc legions, to attack Eregion.

And now you’re thinking I’m out of my mind here, but stay with me. 

Throughout the season, this Orc is the most fleshed out, and has a lot of screentime for him not to do anything relevant to the plot. He’s terrified of Sauron’s return, doesn’t want to go to war, and he’s the one with a family (meaning he has motivation and an character arc).  

He has already shown interest in Galadriel, in Episode 5; he’s the one who tries to cut out a lock of her hair, when she arrived at the Orc camp.

Ghûl's gaze also lingers on Galadriel as she’s being dragged away from Adar at the end of Episode 6, warning Adar that an attack on Eregion is what Sauron truly wants, and that he’s taking his bait. And she’s completely right here, because we saw Sauron planting the seeds of this battle into Adar’s mind in 2x01.  

So, yes, this is my guess, and I've seen other fans have picked out on this as well.

And why an Orc being the one to set Galadriel free is also important to the story? Last season, we saw Galadriel expressing some weird and genocidal views on the Orcs, going as far as vowing to Adar she wouldn’t rest until every single one of his offsprings were dead. Now, we know this won’t happen, and even after Sauron’s defeat in “The Last Alliance” war, there are Orcs on Middle-earth and Mordor (their kingdom) still exists. Galadriel will remain a central part in all of this, throughout the entire story. So, being released by an Orc would certainty contribute for her to broad her horizons and dilute her “black and white” views, and might come into play later on in the story itself.

Galadriel & Celebrimbor

From Episode 7 preview, we know that Galadriel will reach Eregion and reunite with Celebrimbor. Some could argue this scene is actually another one of Sauron’s deceptions, but I don’t think so. My guess is this scene will happen near or at the end of the episode, and Sauron/Annatar has already left the city by then. Sauron and Galadriel won’t reunite in Episode 7 (this will only happen in 2x08 because it’s one of the climaxes of the season).

Charles Edwards (Celebrimbor) has confirmed "Rings of Powers” isn’t following the canon where Celebrimbor was in love with Galadriel, and there is no build up or any foreshadowing for this, so we can scratch the eventuality of any “romantic” undertones happening in this scene.

By the time this scene takes place, I'm 99,9% sure that Celebrimbor already knows the truth of Annatar’ identity. What will these two talk about? Sauron, his plans and the rings of power. Galadriel promises Celebrimbor: “I won’t let you face him alone”. 

There are several possible scenarios here: 

Sauron fled Eregion after Celebrimbor discovered his true identify, but will return to collect the rings of power (like in the books);

Sauron is still somewhere at Eregion when this scene happens (or they believe he is);

Galadriel is talking future here (“Sauron already left with the rings, but if he eventually returns”/"We'll get the rings back and stop him", etc.);

Galadriel is talking about the effects of Sauron’s deceptions and corruption on Celebrimbor’s mind.

This scene will also be important to give extra motivation for Galadriel to go seek out Sauron by herself at the finale. By witnessing first-hand the extend of Sauron’s plans and what he did to Celebrimbor, she’ll go on a hunt for Sauron with a mindset of killing him, next episode.

I’ve already talked about this several times, but it’s always important to remember: in the finale, Galadriel’s plan will be to kill Sauron (probably using Morgoth’s crown + Nenya, as I've speculated before), and there is no doubt in her mind.

Hence the plot twist in “The Last Temptation” scene, and I already shared my theory on the most likely scenario to happen to make her snap her out of her murderous spree (and, as I’ve already said several times, I’m not a huge fan of this myself, but it's what seems most likely to happen giving the foreshadowing and clues so far).

What they will leave out for "next time"?

Celebrimbor's fate. *Spoiler alert*: I'm sure everyone in the fandom knows, but Celebrimbor will most probably die in 2x08.

I can be wrong, but I have the feeling we’ll only see the Dwarves joining the Battle of Eregion in Episode 8. Either way, my bet it’s the showrunners will “deus ex machina” them, and have them arriving when everything seems to be lost and that all Elves are going to die (pretty much like the Knights of Rohan in Battle of Helm's Deep in “The Two Towers”).

I don’t think we’ll see Númenor again this Season. Only if it’s Isildur plot, but it’s almost certain he’ll not join the Battle of Eregion, and just “hang out” with the human Southlanders.

The Stranger arc will be in Episode 8: when when he’ll earn his wizard staff and be finally revealed as Gandalf (because, let's face it, everyone saw that coming from a mile away). And I’m kind of disappointed, because I was hoping for him to turn out to be one of the Blue Wizards.

Unsure if the “Dark Wizard" identity will be revealed. And, no, he’s not Saruman, for f*ck sake, Saruman is one of the Istari and a member of the “White Council”, and he only joins Sauron after “The Hobbit” timeline. I can be wrong, but I’m guessing they’ll leave that “mystery box” for next season, and, most likely, only reveal who the "guys in the masks" are, and why they serve him.

I’m betting we’ll only see the Balrog of Moria in Episode 8, too, and it will kill King Durin III (like in the books, earning its nickname of “Durin’s Bane”). There will be no Balrog in the Battle of Eregion, because Sauron can’t control the Balrogs (they are the same kind, both corrupted Maiar by Morgoth, so he can’t command them, and that's why the Balrog of Moria never joined Sauron's forces).

Just a warning: all comments concerning the fake leaks will be deleted, because we are doing serious speculation in here.  

[thefandomenchantress]

I know I predicted radio silence from me...But I had what I think is a cool idea and wanted to share it before anything gets disproven in the next episode (Brief, singular mention of the Eden!Culprit theory).

So, I saw a lot of people talking about the Arei-Eden parallels, and the Ace-Arei parallels (and differences), and the Min-Eden parallels in the hug scene...Because of that, I started thinking about how Eden and Ace relate to all the others. And then I remembered the very obvious Teruko-Ace parallels.

Ace and Teruko both trusted someone who betrayed them in one way or another. Teruko with...Well, everyone, and especially Min, and Ace with Levi. In chapter two, they're both pretty similar, being closed-off and trying to not care about others with varying degrees of success. And, of course, Ace almost dies just like Teruko did, in an attempted murder.

All those things are fairly obvious, especially them being the only participants to be almost-victims. And I'd always noticed that, but it got me thinking...

In chapter one, Teruko was the victim of an attempted murder, surviving on the pure luck of the knife just-so-happening to miss anything vital in her abdomen. Then, instead of sympathy for her life almost being taken, people are upset with/suspicious of her because they think she was the one who killed Xander. And that fact is no fault of Teruko's, she just had the misfortune of being at the scene of the crime (and Min moving the evidence to further incriminate her). Barely anyone asks if she's okay or shows much concern other than Min, who betrays her, and Eden. She is then forced to defend herself in the trial almost completely alone until finally some others start to come to her defense.

In chapter two, Ace has been put in the position of being the victim of a murder attempt but surviving through the pure luck of Eden and Teruko just-so-happening to come to the second floor late at night. If Teruko hadn't happened to forget her clothes on the second floor, chances are that Ace would be dead. No one feels sorry for what Ace went through, because he was a total asshole to Nico and along with no one taking him seriously to begin with, they think he, in a way, had it coming, trauma and injuries be damned. Now, he is forced to defend himself, presumably alone unless Levi decides he wants to help and be the Eden equivalent. And Ace has been blamed for Arei's death not through any fault of his own, but because he had the misfortune of being at the scene of the crime, where someone else tried to murder him.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that it would honestly be pretty cool if Ace finished this chapter going through rather similar events to the ones Teruko experienced last chapter. Some people say that Ace being her parallel will show her during this chapter that distrusting isn't the right way to go, but he doesn't have to die to show her that at this very moment. Hell, it might hit even harder if he manages to go through everything she did, since it would make them even more similar.

Plus, if Eden is the Min parallel, and Ace is the Teruko parallel, that's pretty dang cool! Of course, if Ace does all the Teruko stuff during the trial, it makes sense for Eden to have done all the Min stuff...And I mean, the episode seems to be saying that's depressingly possible, so maybe.

So yeah, I just thought Ace and Teruko's similarities continuing into the trial would be fun. After all, he's been pretty consistent about following in her footsteps so far, so you never know. Like imagine if he says a protag line or something it'd be hilarious. Especially if all his points during his defense are like Teruko's, but with an Ace-y twist that makes them more funny or stupid or whatever. Fun!

Or who knows, maybe Ace will just hire David as his defense attorney, since he's the only one to have successfully defended Ace so far. /j

[simpjaes]

i feel like a stalker reader fic with a plot twist of sunghoon being a stalker even before reader was obsessed with him (kind of like a mastermind where he plotted how and when they would meet first) AND A FREAKY ONE AT THAT is only a fic that you could possibly write

and you're right about that bc i do believe i'd slay that shit if I ever got around to it.

a/n: this was meant to just be a thought but i got a lil lost in it lmfao.

Like, the idea of Sunghoon being obsessed with you since fuckin' senior year of high school because he transferred there. He was vulnerable when he transferred due to home life stuff forcing the move, and he had close to no one save for a dad who was never home. You were the first person to say hello to him and that singular greeting made him grow attached.

and he'd like, watch week after week. sometimes you'd greet him in passing but never really approach him or anything. he would be too far attached already to approach you himself too, because he feels socially awkward. he is socially awkward. No one back at home liked him much either so his confidence isn't quite high enough to peruse you.

anyway, shoot to college. maybe....he's been like...yknow....doing his research on you since he transferred back in highschool. maybe he's doing the same degree path as you.....maybe he did some snooping to land in the same university, taking the same classes....at the same times as you.........

he's grown very smart about this tho bc like, you'd never second guess why you're always seeing that handsome guy everywhere. maybe you guys are just more alike than you could have thought. and you wouldn't grow your own little crush turned obsession until he you noticed how he ignored you.

you never saw him glance or stare. he'd brush you off any time you try to greet him, he'd always speak in class with confidence, making you feel like he's...very very very intelligent. and it's like, woah, he acts so different compared to high school. you're into him kinda....there's nothing wrong with a lil crush right?

lil crush turns HUGE crush when he ends up at all the same parties you attend. always lurking in a corner by himself looking handsome and untouchable, sometimes with other girls approaching him. these are the moments you'd catch his drunken eyes on you from time to time. Or maybe he's just catching you staring. you're not sure of yourself anymore by this point.

still he wouldn't make any moves or efforts to talk to you. little crush turns to big crush. big crush turns to you wanting to learn more about him...and learning more about him turns to you consistently checking in on his social medias that he rarely updates....asking about him around campus when you manage to land in a room where he isn't, hoping he shows up to more parties..etc.

you wouldn't realize the stalker behavior you're exhibiting til it was too late. he'd be all too fond of it though, knowing he's managed to catch your attention by giving you none at all. what a needy little doll.

It's not until you dead ass find out where he works part time and you're filling out your own application before you realize that maybe you're going a bit too far. when he ends up being there during your interview though, you're a bit too blinded by wanting to know more about him to think too hard about it.

and so, the two of you are working together, going to classes together, attending parties together...except separate. and it's driving you up a fucking wall because surely it's because he has a girlfriend right? but you never see her. you can't find any trace of someone he's with on social media. never on campus, at work, no where. so, lets say you guys end up at a party again and you really do lose it.

lots of alcohol in your system, sunghoon looming in a corner, side eyeing pretty girls who stare at him. you'd be the one staring the most, walking up to him while forgetting how to breathe, only realizing you might actually be in love with him when you try to reach for his shoulder with a brain so empty you forgot what you wanted to say. "Hm?" he'd hum at you with a raised, unbothered brow. His skin prickling at the way your shaking hand grabs at him. He calms himself through it though, having jerked off enough to the mere thought of these hands on him nightly since he met you. He knows how to calm down now. "I'm like, in love with you, maybe." You'd slur out, stupidly with an embarrassed but hopeful expression. Sunghoon's unbothered demeanor wouldn't change, but the setting would. He'd take your hand and guide you without a word, outside, into his car, and he wouldn't say a anything to you through it until he'd driven and parked somewhere entirely secluded. [He's sober btw, you make him drunk enough.] "Do you even know how much I want you?" He'd mumble so quietly you wouldn't be able to hear him over the thumping of your heart, but you stare at him, watching his lips move as he tries to speak. You watch him the whole time, feeling safe in this secluded spot with a man you've grown obsessed with. Your body reacts and moves on instinct as he sits there. You can't fucking stand being so close yet so far from him. "I don't know what you're saying to me." You'd mumble and slur out to him, far too drunk than you originally thought now that there is no loud and booming music to drown your thoughts out. "You never do." He frowns, leaning towards you and practically pinning you to your seat by energy alone. His entire body feels like it's on fire, cock twitching, heart jumping. "You want me?" You nod, breathing softly and deeply as you look at him. Of course you want him. "How bad?" He follows up. "As badly as I've wanted you?" You nod again. "You sure?" Another nod.

His eyes go vacant now as he stares at you, adjusting his body on top of yours in the cramped space of his car. You feel his nose nuzzle against your neck as he inhales deeply. He groans slightly at the scent, never able to smell you so fully except for in passing. This alone could satisfy him for life if he wanted it to. "Show me then." He nearly demands, wanting you to be the one to prove all of his work to get to this point is truly coming to fruition. Wanting you to make all of the first moves. Wanting you to do it all for him.

And, well...you do.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 77

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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Saturday, April 2; 1:50 PM - Downtown.

Time is passing. Only one week remains before the holidays. I'm eager to get there. Lucy and I have agreed that I will give my all during these last weeks so that I can relax afterward. It's tough. I'm barely with my friends at school anymore, but I want to be ready for the big day. They know and understand that. Another thing that's hard is that Lucy doesn’t show me any affection at school. Ever since Wiegman found out, she's been very cautious. Sometimes she hugs me in the evening or gives me a kiss or two, but that's it. So, I'm glad it's the weekend. At least now, she doesn't hold back.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asks me.

"Of course," I chuckle. "It's not the first time I've been here."

Today is the second Saturday I'm going to work with Grace at the gallery. She wants to make sure we can work together and that we both enjoy it. Personally, I loved being here last week. It didn't feel like work. Grace has a much more modern style, thanks to street art. Mine is still very classical, so I understand why she said she could teach me a lot. We complement each other in a way. She asked me to come back today, and she'll give me her decision tonight. By the end of the day, I'll know if my future has a chance in this field. I sincerely hope so. It's the only concrete offer I have. I know that if I get my degree, I can find work in administration, but let's just say that’s not what I want.

"True," Lucy replies. "Will you text me when you're done?"

"Like last time, yes. Say hi to everyone for me."

Lucy is going to meet up with her friends at the venue. They need to clear out the last few things before next week. I think they still have a lot to do. I regret not being with them. I enjoy lending a hand, but I have other responsibilities today.

"I won't forget," she says with a smile.

"And tell Ale I'm supporting her with all my strength for tonight."

Lucy laughs, nodding. Leah party is tonight. I sulked about it for a long time. I felt a little guilty for not being there since I haven't been spending much time with them, but I can always count on Lucy to lift my spirits.

"I'll tell her. Now go. You’re going to be late again."

"How about a little kiss first?"

She smiles and leans over to kiss me.

"Have a good day, my love," I say before getting out of the car.

I close the door and walk toward the gallery. I know Lucy won't leave until I’m inside. And that's exactly what happens. I enter the gallery, triggering the little bell hanging on the door. I take the time to close it, and only then do I see my girlfriend's car pulling away. I smile at that but quickly refocus.

"Ah, hey Ona," Grace greets me.

"Hey," I reply.

The first thing she asked me to do last week was to speak informally with her. I must admit it’s a relief. She's young, probably around Lucy’s age. At least I’m sure I won’t mess up. It also makes me feel more comfortable.

"How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

I smile and approach her for a cheek kiss. The gallery she owns is nothing like Mr. Fields'. It's smaller. Much smaller, but I love it. It's very cozy. It's dark, with occasional light accents here and there. I recognize her style from Nyko's paintball artwork.

"You came at the perfect time. I was trying to hang a painting, but it’s up high, and I couldn’t manage alone. Can you help me?"

"Yeah, of course. I’ll just drop my stuff in the back."

"Oops, sorry, poor you," she laughs. "I'm already piling on the work. Go ahead, I’ll wait."

"Oh no, don’t worry," I giggle.

"Meet me in the back."

I nod while taking off my jacket. The gallery is shaped like an "L." It's on a corner, which is lucky. This way, each piece displayed is lit by the large windows. Grace had the entire place renovated, and I must admit it’s brilliant. Passersby can see inside without having to come in. I go behind the counter to reach a back room. There’s about 20 square meters of space here, which serves as a workshop, storage, and even a dressing room. I hang my bag and jacket on the coat rack before joining Grace at the back of the gallery. Now I understand why she needed my help. She’s waiting for me at the top of a stepladder, with a huge canvas on the floor.

"Wow, it's beautiful," I comment.

The painting is a street art piece of the city of Seattle in multicolored hues. I can totally recognize Grace’s style in it. It’s truly stunning.

"Did you make it?" I ask, just to be sure.

"Yeah," she smiles. "I want it to be the centerpiece, but as you can see, it’s quite big."

"Yeah, I can see that," I chuckle. "Hold on, I’ll lift it for you."

No sooner said than done. I lift the painting so she can grab it where she’s standing. I hold it until she manages to hang it from the suspended ceiling using hooks. Unlike the rest of the room, the ceiling is made of white oak beams. It contrasts nicely with the anthracite walls.

"Phew, thanks."

She climbs down the stepladder, and we step back to see how it looks.

"Not bad, huh?"

"It looks great," I reply. "I think the painting’s just a little crooked."

"Yeah, I just noticed that," she giggles. "Can you stay below in case it slips?"

I nod, and we adjust it until it's perfectly straight. Meanwhile, several people have entered the gallery. Most are just curious, but I think some of the paintings catch their eye. Grace told me that most people come back later for a painting that caught their attention. I guess business isn’t doing too bad.

"Have you sold more paintings?" I ask, noticing some empty spots.

"Yeah," she says with a smile. "Can you help me replace them? Then we can get back to the painting you started last week."

"Sounds good to me."

"Not like you have a choice," she teases.

I laugh and shake my head. We head to the storage room to get the new paintings. I’m supposed to stay until closing, but I can tell we’re not going to be idle. That’s fine with me. I prefer this to sitting around doing nothing.

Saturday, April 2; 5:20 PM - Gallery.

"Well, I think it’s time to stop," Grace tells me.

I check the time. It’s almost 5:30. I’m surprised. The time flew by.

"Oh yeah. I’ll text Lucy so she can pick me up."

"Don’t you have your own car?" she asks.

"Not yet, but I think it’s coming soon."

"That would be better, indeed," she smiles.

I text Lucy to let her know I'm done, then I start putting away the tools I used and wash my brushes in the sink. I haven’t finished my painting yet, but I’m sure I’ll have another chance to work on it. Grace’s advice has been really helpful. She has a completely different method than mine, but I appreciate her feedback. Once I’m done, I return to the front where Grace is behind the counter. She managed to sell four paintings this afternoon—and not just any paintings. I think she’s doing pretty well for someone who just started out on her own.

"All done."

"Great," she says. "I promised I’d give you my answer about next year, so here it is," she says, handing me a form.

I pick it up to see what it is. A small smile forms as I realize it’s an application for the Seattle School of Art.

- Does this mean…?

- These two half-days with you were cool. You’re nice, you know how to do good work, and you’ve got talent. That’s all I was asking for.

- Wow, I say, not knowing what else to say.

- I was able to enter one of your pieces into the school's last enrollment competition thanks to my contacts, and you’ve been selected, she tells me.

I’m having trouble understanding. She entered me into a competition without me knowing?

- You…

- Sorry for not asking your permission, but I didn’t have a choice, she giggles, seeing the look on my face.

- It’s no problem.

- You’ve still got a lot of work to improve, Ona, but you really impressed them, so… she shrugs. Welcome, I guess.

Unable to hold back, I hug her. It’s really the least I can do. She just saved my entire future.

- Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I’m so relieved. A huge weight has just been lifted off my shoulders. She giggles at my reaction, but she doesn’t realize what she’s giving me. I’m finally going to be able to live my dream. Just six months ago, I thought this was impossible. All my life, I’ve been told I couldn’t make a living from this, and yet here it is, happening. It feels like a dream. I release my new boss when I hear the doorbell chime. I smile when I see Lucy walk in.

- Well, it seems like there’s good news here.

- Oh yes! I exclaim, handing her the application form.

Lucy looks at it for a moment, then glances between us with a smile forming on her lips.

- Ah, yes, I see now. That’s really amazing. Thank you so much, Grace. Ona can finally relax a bit.

- Oh, it was my pleasure, Grace replies with a small laugh.

I go to Lucy and slip into her arms. She kisses the top of my head while still holding the form.

- Do we need to send this to the school? she asks.

- Uh, it’s better if you bring it back to me. I need to return it as soon as possible to my contact at the school.

- Alright. Well, do you have a little time? We can fill it out now.

- Oh, that would be great, yeah. I’ll get you a pen.

As soon as she leaves for the back, I let out a little squeal of joy. Lucy laughs, holding me tighter.

- Can you believe it!?

- Yes, yes, she giggles. This is really amazing, babe. I’m proud of you.

She kisses me softly. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. I can’t believe all of this is happening so fast. Just a few weeks ago, I imagined myself sorting papers at a desk.

- You know what you have to do now, she whispers to me. You absolutely have to pass your exam.

- I’m working on it. I think I’m doing pretty well.

- Yes, that’s true, she smiles. Who would’ve thought you’d get serious one day…

I stick my tongue out at her teasing. Grace comes back with a pen, and Lucy helps me fill out my part. I realize I don’t even know her address, and it’s about to become mine soon. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to move in with her and call it my home too. I already feel at home there, but it’ll be more official. We’ll be there every day, together. Just thinking about it makes me feel strange. The form is easy to fill out. I double-check that I haven’t forgotten anything before copying the information onto the other two forms. I sign them and hand them to my new boss, who smiles mischievously.

- Well, you’ve just signed your death warrant. You’re under my command now, she jokes.

- Oh, there are worse things… I hope, I giggle.

- You’ll have time to form your opinion, Lucy comments. Well, shall we head out now?

- Great idea. I’m heading home as well. My boyfriend is taking me out to dinner tonight.

- Lucky you, I say with a smile. Well then…

I don’t finish my sentence. I’m not really sure what to say. Now that I’ve signed the papers, what’s next? Grace seems to understand my dilemma, as she says:

- I’ll contact you for the next steps. I’ll give you the details of when you start working here and when your classes start too. You’ll probably need to come back to sign a contract.

- No problem. I’m close by, after all.

- Great. Well, have a good evening then.

- Have a good evening too.

I head to the back to grab my things and return to Lucy. We say goodbye to my new boss one last time before heading out. I feel like a ball of energy. Everything is falling into place now that I’ve signed that form.

- What are we doing tonight?

- Well, I may have reserved a table too…

- Really?

I turn to her sharply. She smiles, amused by my reaction.

- Yep. I thought it would be nice to celebrate the good news.

- Oh yeah? And how did you know, huh? I just found out myself.

I smile as she presses me gently against the car when we reach it. Her hands rest softly on my hips. I relax as her lips tease mine.

- You should know I never doubt you…

- Why are you so perfect? I murmur, wrapping my arms around her neck.

- I’m not.

- Yes, you are, at least with me.

- Well, that’s because you make me that way. Because I love you.

I groan and lean in to kiss her, but she pulls back, keeping me just out of reach. I pout. I don’t like it when she denies me a kiss.

- Don’t make that face, she smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I wanted to apologize, because I’m not as perfect as you think. I’m denying you a night with your friends tonight.

I step back at those words. I can see a hint of sadness in her eyes. It’s partly my fault. I guess I made my disappointment a little too clear about it. I smile, caressing her cheek.

- The most important thing is that I’m spending the evening with you, my love.

- Really…? Because—

- You’re the most important person to me. I know you’re anxious about meeting them.

- What—

- Don’t take me for a fool, I interrupt her with an amused tone. I know you hide your fear behind the idea that we have to be discreet at school. But we both know you’re just scared of meeting them as my girlfriend.

Lucy opens her mouth, then closes it. I love when I can leave her speechless. It’s so rare. She sighs, shaking her head, and tries to pull away, but I hold her close. Our chests are pressed together. I can feel her heart beating a little too fast. She doesn’t like being caught off guard, and I get it. I feel the same way when she surprises me.

- You’re right, she whispers. I’m sorry.

- Don’t be. I totally understand. It must not be easy to meet your students as my friends.

- No, not really. I tend to know what everyone thinks of me at school.

She’s not wrong. Even now, everyone asks me how I can spend so much time with Lucy. They can’t see her as the woman standing in front of me right now, and it’s such a shame. I slide my hand under her hair, gently stroking her neck. My touch seems to calm her down.

That’s true, I murmur. But they don’t know my girlfriend. I know it must be scary for you, but it’s important to me. I want people to meet my girlfriend. I want to show you off. To say that you’re mine, like you do.

- Like me, huh?

- Oh yes. Do I need to remind you of the number of hickeys you've given me? You love to claim that I belong to you.

- Yeah, that's true... There's still a bit of me missing on you, though.

I giggle as her lips brush against my neck.

- No, Lucia! I replied, gently pushing her away.

- What, you don't like my marks? she teased.

- Stop it. That'll be the first thing they tease you about.

- Really? I bet they'll mock my commander nickname instead.

- You want to play that game? Alright, let's make a bet then.

- A bet, huh? OK. If I'm right, I get to do whatever I want with you for a whole evening, and vice versa if you're right.

- Hmm... OK, I'm in.

- Good, she said, pecking my lips. Now let's go. We'll be late for my program otherwise.

- Your program, huh? What do you have planned for me this time?

- A romantic evening, she announced as she walked around the car. I had to make up for the event we're not attending tonight.

- You didn't have to, but I like it. I enjoy going out with you.

- Don’t expect anything crazy. We're just going to have dinner, and I thought we could go to the movies afterward, she said once seated behind the wheel.

- I particularly like that plan, I said while fastening my seatbelt.

- Perfect, then.

We exchanged a smile before she drove off. She took me to a restaurant I didn't know, one fancier than the places we usually go to.

- It's a French restaurant, she whispered as a waiter guided us to our table.

- Really? I asked with a small smile. What gave you the idea?

- Nowhere, I just enjoy coming here.

Lucy had everything planned. She really booked a table, and we were lucky enough to get one on the restaurant's veranda. I wondered how long ago she made the reservation.

- Thank you, she said to the waiter.

- You're welcome. Here are the menus. I'll be back to check on you later.

- Thanks, I added as he left.

I looked around. It was particularly beautiful here, and we were lucky that the sky was clear.

- It's beautiful, I whispered while staring at the starry sky.

- I booked last week... when Grace told me she'd be watching you.

I lowered my eyes, mouth slightly agape.

- Y-you knew?

- Well... yeah, she replied mischievously. She just wanted to keep you waiting a bit longer, so you'd keep giving your best today.

She laughed while I sulked. She knew before I did. But how could I hold it against her when I saw where we were now?

- You're lucky I enjoy surprises.

She laughed and intertwined our fingers. I brought them to my lips for a kiss. This moment of relaxation felt particularly good. I felt exhausted from giving so much, but now that I knew where I was headed next year, I was even more motivated to ace my final exam, which was fast approaching. I’d already had a preview with my recent tests, and I hadn’t done too badly. Next week, we have mock exams. I'm looking forward to them because at least I’ll know exactly where I stand before the real ones.

- What are you thinking about?

- A lot of things, I answered with a small smile. How will things go from here?

- Well, as planned. You’ll take your mock exams, then we’ll go on vacation.

- I can't wait, I giggled. I’m so done with all this.

- I bet, but it'll be fine, she reassured me.

- And after that?

- After that? she asked, tilting her head.

- Well, after... after school...

We were interrupted by the waiter who came to take our drink orders. I trusted Lucy and chose the same as her, a non-alcoholic cocktail. We waited for him to leave before I turned back to Lucy. She shrugged.

- After school... well, we’ll go to Barcelona, and then we'll come back here.

- To live at your place, I murmured.

The idea seemed so surreal. Yet, it was what was going to happen in just a few weeks. After all this time.

- Have you changed your mind?

I snapped out of my thoughts at her question. I could see a hint of concern in her eyes.

- What? No, no! I was just thinking... maybe we could make things more official...?

- What do you mean?

- It might be too soon but... I’d like, I don’t know... to co-own the apartment? We’re going to live together, so I want to contribute to the expenses.

Lucy nodded before sinking into her chair, crossing her arms.

- That’s indeed a big step, becoming a co-owner.

- I don’t want us to move. The apartment is great, but... I want to invest in it, you know?

- I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

I opened my mouth, but I closed it when Lucy raised her hand to stop me from arguing.

- I trust us, I know how you feel, but you never know what could happen. There could be complications between us, and I wouldn’t want the apartment to become another relationship issue to deal with.

- I’m not planning on leaving you, I said, pouting.

Lucy laughed and leaned toward me. She grabbed both my hands, pulling them under her chin.

- I know, love, but it’s too soon. Tomorrow, we’ll celebrate two months together. I know we both feel like we’ve been together longer, but it’s only been two months.

- That’s true, I muttered.

- How about we see how living together full-time goes? I don’t think there will be any problems, but it’ll be a big difference from just weekends.

I nodded, feeling a little sulky. I didn’t like how right she was. After all, we were just at the beginning of our relationship, but I craved more. I needed more, I think, but I didn’t dare say it.

- Hey, she murmured.

She lifted my chin, forcing our eyes to meet. I hated facing her gaze. It made me feel so vulnerable. There was a determination in her eyes that sometimes made me wonder how she got to where she was.

- Don’t make that face. We have all the time in the world now, okay? There’s no need to rush. That’s how we’ll crash into a wall.

- Yeah... I mumbled.

I hated that she was right. The last time I rushed, it ended badly. I wanted to do things right, but at the same time, I wanted to speed things up. The waiter returned to bring our drinks and take our order. Since I hadn’t really paid attention to the menu, I agreed to Lucy’s suggestion that we share a dish—cheese platter, actually. She sold me on the idea, saying it was really good, so I accepted. As the waiter left, I still felt uneasy, but Lucy remained unfazed.

- Honey, one day, I’m going to make you my wife. We’ll buy a big house together, and maybe even have kids. I want all of that just as much as you do. Don’t think otherwise.

- I know, Lucia...

I blushed slightly at her words. If she wanted them to affect me, well, it was working. Wife and kids were big words, perfectly expressing our future together.

- So be patient. First and foremost, we need to learn how to live together and build a stable future. It all starts with a good job. Neither of us knows what our work experience will lead to, and it’s good to focus on that before jumping into anything else. Don’t you agree?

I sighed but nodded.

- Yeah, fine, you win.

She chuckled softly.

- Come on, give me a kiss.

I leaned in to give her what she wanted. I could never deny her that.

- Can we enjoy the evening now?

- Yes.

Our cheese platter finally arrived, and I had to admit it was a good choice. Lucy really knew what was good, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

- I wonder how things are going with Alexia, I mused as we started eating.

- No idea, my girlfriend giggled. But she wasn’t feeling well this afternoon. I had to comfort her.

- You, comforting her? Now I’ve seen everything.

- Well, yeah. I like her, surprisingly.

- That’s good news then, I teased. At least one of my friends you like.

- Oh, stop it, she rolled her eyes. I like Mapi too.

- That wasn’t the case in the beginning.

- We were both jealous, but I think she’s starting to understand where her place is with me.

- Yeah, I think you're right.

I sipped my drink, reflecting on the conversation we had a few weeks ago. Mapi had defended Lucy regarding what she didn’t yet know about Feli. I think she has indeed figured out her place with Lucy, even if she struggled to admit it. After all, she was my only close friend before I came here.

- Thinking about something in particular? Lucy asked, noticing I was lost in thought.

- No, I said, blushing. Just that you're right. She defended you not too long ago.

- Really? About what?

I shrugged. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.

- Something unimportant...

I know I’m a terrible liar, but I didn’t want to ruin our night with negative thoughts. Lucy stayed silent for a moment but eventually nodded.

- Okay, she whispered. You know you can tell me anything, right?

- Of course, I said with a small smile. But it’s nothing important. I just wanted you to know that she defended you, and I was the first one surprised.

- Alright... well, I guess things are changing.

We shared a smile. I knew she realized I wasn’t telling her everything, but I appreciated that she didn’t push. The evening continued without any more unsettling topics.

[wannabehockeygf]

Good Graces | Conor Garland

"With your favorite athlete, Shoot his shot every night, Want you every second, Don't need other guys."

request: "I was thinking of a fluffy fic between him and a fem!team medic who he is good friends with because of how often he ends up getting hurt, putting himself in the middle of scrums and everything. I know that's kind of just a general premise, but I wanted to leave it up to you where you want to take it from there :)" summary: two times conor wanted to kiss you, and one time you kissed him.

word count: 5.3k

pairing: conor garland x fem!reader

warnings: blood & injury

notes:

hiiii welcome & thanks for requesting. hope I fulfilled your wishes!

i don't know much about garland but I love making players divas so I inserted that here lmao :3

keep requesting new & different players guys!! i love doing it.

You signed your contract for your job with one goal in mind–don’t fall for a hockey player.

Pretty easy, right? Especially since, as a team medic, you largely dealt with them all sweaty, bloody, and generally in a state of chaos. Not attractive at all. Definitely not. Yet here you are, hovering over him again.

Conor Garland, number 8 on the ice and, in your opinion, number one in "most likely to get into a fight over nothing." You fold your arms as he limps into the med room, wearing a ridiculous grin despite the cut above his eyebrow. “That bad, huh?” he teases, his voice holding that familiar playful edge. He’s pretending to wince as he climbs onto the exam table, like it’s a whole ordeal for him.

You roll your eyes, but you’re already reaching for the gauze, your hands moving on autopilot. “You know, if you stopped fighting for five seconds, you might actually get through a game without needing stitches.”

He chuckles softly, but the sound is laced with something else. It’s subtle, but it’s there—a little too relaxed, too content, considering he just came off the ice. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You look up at him, raising an eyebrow, but the sight of him smiling, like he’s enjoying himself a little too much for someone who’s supposed to be injured, throws you off. He’s been doing this a lot lately, showing up with bruises and cuts that could’ve been avoided. You’d never say it out loud, but part of you suspects he’s getting into these scrums on purpose.

His eyes flicker to yours, just for a moment, before he quickly looks away, feigning a deep interest in the ceiling. “What?” you ask, crossing your arms again.

“Nothing,” he says, far too quickly.

Right. Sure.

You press the gauze to his eyebrow a little harder than necessary, and he winces, though you can’t tell if it’s real pain or exaggerated for your benefit. You narrow your eyes. “Stop squirming.”

He gives a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at your lips. There’s always this easy back-and-forth with him, like the two of you have fallen into some unspoken routine. You patch him up, and he finds new ways to annoy you, all with that same boyish grin on his face.

You finish dabbing at the cut, the soft pressure of the gauze soaking up the blood that’s already drying around the edges. As you work, the steady rhythm of your movements almost feels too comfortable, like this is the hundredth time you’ve patched him up—because, well, it probably is.

"Conor," you murmur, half to yourself, half in warning, as you reach for the antiseptic. His skin smells of sweat and ice, a mix that’s become weirdly familiar, like the scent of the rink itself but so uniquely him.

He tilts his head a little, trying to catch your eye, but you focus on the task at hand, avoiding the gaze you know is waiting for you. Your fingers brush against his temple, and for a split second, you swear you feel him tense up under your touch. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual casual grin.

“You gotta stop doing this,” you sigh, and it comes out softer than you intend. The antiseptic stings as you swipe it across the cut, and he flinches again, though not as much as he should.

“Doing what?” he asks, his voice low, almost playful. He’s watching you again, those brown eyes darkened by the fluorescent lights of the med room.

“This.” You gesture vaguely at his face, at the various bruises and cuts that seem to accumulate each time he steps onto the ice. “Getting into pointless fights. You think I don’t notice? You’re not even supposed to be a fighter, Conor. Half the time, you’re chirping at guys twice your size. Why?”

The silence between you stretches just long enough to make you uneasy. You feel the weight of his stare, the slight twitch of his mouth like he’s holding back from saying something.

He shrugs, but there’s a flicker of something else behind the movement, something unspoken. “Part of the game, right?” he offers, too nonchalant, like he’s testing the waters.

You don’t buy it, not for a second. But what are you supposed to say? Call him out directly? Admit you’ve noticed the way he lingers around the med room a little longer than necessary, how his smile stretches wider every time he manages to make you roll your eyes? It feels too much, too real, to acknowledge the way your heart stutters just a little when you hear his name over the PA system.

You sigh again, grabbing the butterfly stitches and nudging his chin up with more force than necessary. His skin is warm, too warm for someone who just came off the ice, and you have to focus hard not to notice the way his jaw clenches under your fingers.

“You’re gonna end up with a permanent scar if you keep this up,” you say, and there’s a softness in your voice now, one you can’t quite hide. The words come out before you can stop them. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, and the quiet stretches on again, filled only by the sound of your breath and the subtle scratch of fabric as he shifts on the exam table. Then, his voice cuts through the stillness, quiet but sure.

“I don’t mind it,” he says, and it takes you a second to register what he’s talking about.

You blink, pulling back slightly to look at him. He’s still smiling, but there’s something different in his expression now, something that catches you off guard. “What?”

“The scars,” he says, shrugging again, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t mind them. Means I get to see you.”

Your heart does a ridiculous little flip at his words, and you curse it for betraying you so easily. You try to play it off with an eye roll, but you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “You could just... I don’t know, say hi like a normal person instead of getting into fights?”

He chuckles, but the sound is softer now, almost fond. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You press the final stitch into place, leaning back to assess your work. His face is still bruised, still battered, but somehow, he looks completely unbothered by it all. And the worst part? You can’t help but think he looks good like this, even with the mess of bruises and dried blood.

As you’re cleaning up, you feel his eyes on you again, watching with that same stupid grin, like this is all just some kind of game to him. But there’s something else in the way he’s sitting, the way he’s still lingering on the table long after you’ve finished patching him up.

“Are you just going to sit there?” you ask, pretending to be annoyed, though you know the act isn’t fooling anyone.

“Maybe.” He leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, looking far too comfortable for someone who was limping in here five minutes ago. “Depends. You gonna kick me out?”

You roll your eyes, but your chest tightens at the implication, your heart doing that traitorous little skip again. You turn around, crossing your arms, meeting his eyes this time. He’s sitting there, propped up on his elbows, looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. And maybe that’s what’s been throwing you off lately—the way he looks at you. Like these moments mean something more to him than just routine check-ups and bandages.

“Conor,” you say, and this time, your voice has more weight to it, though you can’t bring yourself to say what you’re really thinking. Instead, you gesture toward the door, trying to salvage the situation with a teasing edge. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, still not moving. “Besides, where else would I go? The ice isn’t as fun as this.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, though it’s a losing battle. He’s always had this way of disarming you with a few words, like he knows exactly how to find that crack in your armor.

“Well, you can’t stay here,” you say, but there’s no real bite to your words, and you both know it.

He swings his legs off the table, wincing slightly—more from habit than pain, you suspect—and stands up, but he doesn’t head for the door. Instead, he lingers, too close now, and you find yourself staring at the small cut above his eyebrow, the one you just stitched up. Your fingers itch to brush it gently, to make sure you did it right, but you keep your hands firmly crossed in front of you.

“I think I’m fine now,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “Thanks, doc.”

The nickname always makes you smile, even when you don’t want it to. “You’re welcome,” you reply, but there’s a softness to your tone that wasn’t there a moment ago.

He takes a step closer, and the room suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker. For a second, neither of you says anything. His eyes search yours, like he’s trying to read something in your expression, something you’re not even sure you understand yourself. But whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it—at least, not yet.

“I’ll try not to get into too much trouble next game,” he says with a smirk, though there’s a warmth behind it, something genuine. “But, you know, no promises.”

You shake your head, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course not.”

He starts toward the door but pauses just before stepping out, his hand resting lightly on the frame. He turns back to you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your chest ache a little.

“Hey,” he says, and there’s no teasing in his voice this time, just something real. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

You nod, swallowing the lump that suddenly forms in your throat. “Just… try to keep yourself in one piece, okay?”

He grins again, that easy, boyish grin that somehow makes you forget for a second that he’s a professional athlete, bruised and battered from a game most people would never survive. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, but there’s something in his tone that makes you think he’ll be back sooner rather than later.

Another game, another set of bruises.

You’re halfway through patching up another player when you feel it—his presence, the familiar, teasing energy he brings with him. Conor walks into the med room, limping just a little too dramatically to be real. He’s cradling his arm like it’s hanging by a thread, his expression an exaggerated picture of pain.

“Doc, I think this might be the one that does me in,” he says, his voice a mockery of seriousness. The guy you’re helping, one of the newer players, snorts in response, shaking his head as he slides off the table.

You shoot Conor a glance over your shoulder. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Garland.”

The younger player leaves, chuckling under his breath, and suddenly it’s just you and Conor again. You can feel the shift in the air, like it always does when it’s just the two of you. The playful banter, the teasing looks, that undercurrent of something unspoken hanging between you like a thin thread.

You turn around, and there he is, still putting on that ridiculous act. He’s cradling his arm as if it’s broken, but the glint in his eye gives him away. “Oh, I’m sure you’re in agony,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Conor leans against the table with a dramatic sigh, giving you a pained look, as if he’s the one who should be annoyed by all this. “It’s bad, doc. Might need surgery.”

“Surgery, huh?” you quip, folding your arms as you walk over to him. Your eyes roam over his jersey, scanning for any real signs of injury, but all you see is his usual scruffy, disheveled mid-game self. “I can’t really check if you’ve got something serious going on with all that gear.”

He raises an eyebrow, still in character. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your tone casual, but there’s a hint of something else in your voice now. You tap his arm gently, feigning impatience. “Take off your jersey if you’re so hurt.”

For a split second, the playful energy between you shifts. His teasing smirk falters, his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place, and suddenly, Conor’s posture straightens. The banter evaporates, leaving only the echo of your words hanging in the air. His hands hover near the hem of his jersey, clearly caught off guard by your request.

He stares at you like you’ve just asked him to do something much more intimate than you intended, and it takes a moment before he recovers his composure. “Uh… right. Yeah. Okay.”

You watch as he hesitates, tugging at the fabric, trying to hide the way his fingers fumble with it. And for once, he’s flustered—really flustered. It’s not the usual Conor Garland confidence or playful bravado. His face is flushed, the pink creeping up from his neck to his cheeks, and you can’t help but find the sight... oddly endearing.

You shouldn’t be enjoying this, but you are.

He finally manages to pull the jersey over his head, tossing it aside without meeting your eyes, and you catch the briefest glimpse of the toned muscles under his shoulder and chest pads, the faint sheen of sweat from the game still clinging to his skin. You swallow hard, trying not to let your mind wander too far as you force yourself to stay professional.

You step closer, eyes focused on the faint bruise blooming across his ribs, though it’s clear he’s milking the situation. “This?” you ask, pressing your fingers gently against his side. “You came in here for this?”

You stare at the bruise, your fingers resting lightly against his skin. It’s small, nothing serious—a faint discoloration, more from the impact than anything worth worrying about. But you both know this isn’t about the bruise. It never is with Conor.

You don’t pull away, and neither does he. There’s a moment of quiet, the banter fading into the background, leaving just the two of you in this strange, charged silence. You can feel the warmth of his body under your fingertips, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The tension in the room shifts, thickening like a storm cloud.

“You really thought this was worth all that drama?” you murmur, your voice soft now, not teasing, just… there. You trace the edge of the bruise absently, the pads of your fingers barely brushing against his skin.

Conor swallows, and you catch the movement of his throat, the way his eyes flicker down to where your hand rests on him before darting back to your face. His voice is quieter when he responds, less of that exaggerated confidence he usually carries with him. “Well, I figured… might as well get some attention while I’m at it, right?”

You don’t miss the way he says attention, how it lingers between the two of you, a little too close to the truth. Your heart skips, your pulse quickening in a way you hope he doesn’t notice.

But he’s staring at you now, the teasing smile faded, his brown eyes more serious than you’ve ever seen them. The air feels thick, almost suffocating, but in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. Like something is about to happen, something you’ve both been tiptoeing around for too long.

Your hand is still on his side, your fingers barely moving, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the way he’s watching you like he’s waiting for something. Maybe you are too. The room feels impossibly small, the space between you shrinking with each breath.

“I… probably shouldn’t have made you take off your jersey,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, a weak attempt to break the tension, to say something, anything, that might diffuse whatever’s building between you. But even as you say it, you don’t pull away.

He doesn’t either.

“Nah,” he replies softly, his voice lower now, the usual playfulness gone. “It’s fine.”

You’re not sure if he means the jersey or the way your fingers are still pressed against his ribs, or maybe both. Either way, the tension doesn’t break. It only tightens, drawing you both closer without either of you moving an inch.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, your breathing shallow, and for a split second, you let your gaze drop to his lips. It’s a brief, unconscious movement, but it’s enough. He notices.

Conor shifts, barely perceptibly, but you feel it—the subtle lean, the way his eyes flicker to your mouth. Your heart pounds, the room spinning around the two of you like everything else has fallen away. You’re not even sure how you ended up here, this close, this vulnerable, but the pull is undeniable.

Your hand slides down slightly, resting at his waist now, and his breath hitches. You feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body seems to react to your touch, and for a second, you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is the moment you’ve both been avoiding for so long, the moment where everything changes.

His lips part, and your breath catches. You’re so close now, close enough to feel the heat of him, to see the soft curve of his mouth, to—

The door creaks open behind you, and the spell shatters.

You both freeze, the tension shattering as one of the assistant coaches pokes his head in. "Hey, Garland, you still in here?" The coach looks between the two of you, oblivious to what he just interrupted.

Conor jerks back so quickly it’s like he’s been caught doing something illegal, while your hand falls from him. His face flushes, but not from the game—this time, it’s from almost being caught in a moment he’s not ready to explain.

"Uh, yeah," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly flustered. "Just, uh... icing my bruise."

You bite back a laugh, feeling the heat rise to your own cheeks. The moment is gone, but the weight of it lingers in the air.

"Well, hurry it up. Coach wants to talk to you before you head out," the assistant says, already halfway out the door.

You both stand there for a second after the door shuts, the silence deafening. Conor looks at you, the tension still simmering under the surface, but neither of you speaks. It’s like the almost-kiss is still hanging between you, unfinished and waiting.

Finally, Conor clears his throat. "Guess I should... go."

"Yeah," you say, forcing a smile. "Guess so."

He hesitates, lingering in the doorway for a second longer than necessary, his eyes catching yours one last time. And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the weight of what almost happened.

You’ve been replaying what happened in your head, the way his eyes lingered, the warmth of his skin under your touch, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. It’s like a loop that you can’t quite break free from.

But now, that moment feels distant, swept away by the frenetic energy of another game night. Only this time, it’s different.

The door slams open.

You jump, turning on instinct, and what you see makes your heart plummet. Conor’s standing there, but he’s not limping theatrically this time. Blood runs down the side of his face, stark against his pale skin, dripping onto his jersey, which is streaked with snow and sweat. His eyes are wild, his chest heaving, and for the first time, there’s no playful glint, no teasing smirk. Just anger.

"Garland," you breathe, stepping toward him, already reaching for the gauze, but he doesn’t even seem to hear you. He’s pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscles working beneath his skin.

"Stupid," he mutters under his breath, swiping a hand over his face, smearing the blood. "Stupid, stupid hit."

"Conor," you say softly, trying to get him to focus on you, to stop moving. He doesn’t. His eyes are unfocused, his movements erratic, as though he’s still stuck in the heat of the game, reliving whatever hit sent him flying into the boards.

You step closer, cautiously. "Hey, come on. You need to sit down. Let me look at that cut."

He finally stops pacing, but when his eyes meet yours, they’re blazing. "I don’t care about the damn cut," he snaps, though the anger in his voice isn’t directed at you. It’s frustration, bubbling just beneath the surface.

You swallow, trying to maintain your calm. "I know you don’t, but I do."

He blinks, his brows furrowing, like your words hit something in him, pulling him out of his angry haze. But then he shakes his head, as if he’s trying to brush it off. "They’re out to get me," he mutters, more to himself than to you, but you hear it.

Your chest tightens. You’ve seen him frustrated before, of course. Hockey’s a brutal game; it comes with the territory. But this… this feels different. Conor Garland is many things—annoying, playful, sometimes overly dramatic—but angry? Not like this. Not pacing the room with his hands curled into fists like he’s ready to punch the wall. You have to do something—anything—to bring him back to himself before he loses it completely.

"Conor, sit down," you say again, firmer this time. "Please."

Something in your voice must reach him because he stops, his shoulders slumping as if all the fight has gone out of him in an instant. He sits on the edge of the exam table, and you move quickly, grabbing the gauze and antiseptic. His eyes follow you, but they’re distant, like he’s not fully present.

You stand between his legs, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, and gently tilt his head back to get a better look at the cut. It’s deep, angrier than you expected, but not the worst you’ve seen. Still, the blood has matted his hair, trailing down his temple, and his breathing is shallow, labored.

"This might sting," you murmur, pressing the gauze to his forehead, dabbing at the blood. You try to stay focused, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, his body coiled tight like he’s barely holding himself together. His hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles white.

"That guy…" he starts, voice low and bitter. "He didn’t have to hit me like that. It wasn’t even about the puck."

"I know," you say quietly, your fingers moving methodically as you clean the wound. "It’s not fair."

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You focus on your work, but every so often, your gaze flickers to his face, to the way his jaw is still clenched, to the way his chest still rises and falls with that uneven breath. You can feel the anger radiating off him, but there’s something else too—something vulnerable, hidden beneath all that frustration.

"Why are you letting this get to you?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Conor doesn’t answer right away. His gaze is fixed on some distant point over your shoulder, like he’s trying to hold it together, trying not to snap. But then his shoulders sag, and he drops his head into his hands. "I don’t know," he admits, voice muffled. "I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much."

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling your heart ache for him. You’ve never seen him this rattled, this shaken. It’s unsettling, seeing him like this, and you don’t know what to do other than be here, right here, in this moment with him.

Gently, you reach out, resting a hand on his shoulder. His skin is warm, muscles tense beneath your fingers, but the contact seems to ground him. He lifts his head slowly, meeting your eyes for the first time since he walked in.

"It’s just… one hit," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper now. "But I can’t shake it."

"It’s not just the hit, is it?" you ask, watching him carefully.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "No. It’s not."

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You finish bandaging his cut, your hands moving slowly, deliberately, trying to draw out the process because you’re not ready for this moment to end. You don’t want him to walk away like this, all pent-up frustration and unresolved tension.

He’s quiet now, his chest no longer heaving with anger, but his eyes—his eyes are still filled with something heavy, something you can’t quite place. He’s staring at you, and you can feel his gaze, warm and intent, as though he’s trying to find the right words but can’t. You’re not sure if you’re ready to hear them anyway. Your pulse thrums in your ears, loud and persistent, and for the first time, you realize how close you’re standing.

You clear your throat, suddenly aware of how his legs are framing your hips, how his knees brush your thighs every time either of you moves. His hands rest loosely on his lap now, no longer clenched into fists, but the tension hasn’t entirely dissipated. It’s just shifted into something else, something quieter but no less intense. You can feel it humming in the air between you.

"Conor," you begin, your voice coming out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper. "You’re… it’s going to be okay." You know how inadequate the words sound, but you don’t know what else to say. You just want to fill the silence, to soothe whatever storm is still brewing inside him.

His eyes flicker, and his jaw works as though he’s chewing on something he can’t quite get out. "I’m not—" He stops himself, eyes dropping to the floor, and you watch as his shoulders slump again. "I don’t usually… I’m not like this."

You don’t respond immediately, just watch him, the way he avoids looking at you, the way his hands flex on his lap like he’s resisting the urge to reach for something. It’s strange seeing him so out of sorts, the guy who’s always cracking jokes, always looking for a way to make you laugh, now sitting here, raw and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

You take a breath and move closer, letting your fingers brush against his shoulder again. "You don’t have to explain anything to me. Everyone has bad days." Your voice is soft, reassuring, but your heart is pounding harder now, louder, as if it’s trying to force its way through your ribcage.

Conor looks up then, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze isn’t wild anymore, but there’s something else in it, something that makes your breath catch. His lips part, and for a second, you’re sure he’s going to say something, something that will change everything.

But he hesitates, his throat working like the words are caught there, and suddenly you’re all too aware of the closeness, of the heat between you, of how your bodies are aligned. You don’t move, don’t dare to, because if you do, you might shatter whatever fragile balance you’ve found.

"I don’t know how to say this," he finally mutters, his voice rough and low, almost pained. His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second, and your breath stutters.

Your heart is racing now, louder than before, and you can feel the room tilting, your pulse in your throat as the tension pulls taut. He’s so close, his face inches from yours, the scent of sweat and blood mingling in the air between you, and you realize with a jolt that this is it. This is the moment where everything shifts, where the teasing, the faked injuries, the lingering touches, all of it finally snaps into focus.

Conor shifts again, his knee pressing slightly against your thigh, and his voice drops even lower. "I’ve been trying to tell you, but I—" He stops, his eyes dark and searching, like he’s looking for something in your face. "You’re more than just… I mean, I’m always…"

You don’t let him finish. Because before you know it, you’re moving, and you’re pressing your lips to his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you’re both unsure. His lips are warm, and you can taste the faint tang of his blood on them, but you don’t care. For a moment, everything stills—no tension, no frustration, just him, here, with you. His hands, which had still been clenched on his lap, slide up to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. The anger, the frustration that had been radiating off him moments before, melts away, replaced by something softer, something unspoken but understood.

When you finally pull back, your breath comes in short, uneven bursts. You meet his eyes, half-expecting him to pull away, to say something to ruin the moment, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still gripping your waist, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“That’s one way to shut me up,” he mutters, his voice low, teasing, but there’s a softness there too, a warmth you haven’t heard from him before.

You can’t help but laugh softly, your heart still racing. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just looks at you, his eyes darker now, softer. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly against your hip, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze flickers down to your lips, and for a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed to just the two of you, like nothing else exists outside this room.

For the first time all night, he smiles—really smiles—and it’s like the tension finally breaks. His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right. The frustration, the anger, the game—it all fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a moment that feels fragile but perfect, like you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were looking for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and his eyes soften, the vulnerability still there, but less jagged now, smoothed by your words. “But you need to go out there and win that fuckin’ game.”

“Okay,” He says, but leans in again, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, this one slower, gentler, as though he’s savoring it. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes your cheek, and his smile lingers, the tension from earlier now a distant memory. “But, we’re doing a lot more of this–” he gestures between the two of you, “Later.”

[realmsalot]

I've been obsessed with Relativity Falls au for some reason lately so of course I've been turning around my own version in my head lately. And with Fiddleford I keep flip flopping on who I would switch him because there are many good options. Like

Fiddleford <> Pacifica:

This seems to be the most popular option, I've seen many old woman Pacifica designs, but I personally cannot see McGucket be the snotty rich kid that Pacifica was at the start. I CAN see how he could be rich (Tate McGucket probably invented something and got a lot of money for it) but CAN'T see him be anyway snotty about it. I think the best way to make Fiddleford fit this role is through a series of misunderstandings. He is trying SO HARD to be nice to these twin brothers who are spending their summer in Gravity Falls and he just keeps messing up. He tries to make a robot to help them out but it end up turning evil and they assume that it was ment to sabotage them from the start. He tries to have a nice conversation with them but because he's rich he's just out touch enough to come off rude and show offy. FIDDS IS TRYING TO BE NICE FROM THE START!

Fiddleford <> Candy

It is easily the second most popular option here. There really isn't much to say with this one it's probably the one that makes the most sense. I can easily see Candy going to Backupsmore and telling Dipper/Mabel about the weird things shes seen in Gravity Falls. The idea that Stanley and Fidds became friends first before Ford and Fidds is interesting. My main grip with it is that if we're going with the version where Dipper is swapped with Ford, it implies that Mable and Candy never really became friends in this universe, which I find really sad. Honestly I think that the main reason this swap exists in that context is because of that one episode were they go on a road trip and Candy got crush on Dipper mixed with fact that many people ship FiddleAuthor.

Fiddleford <> Soos

Hear me out, hear me OUT! I've seen a few versions where even when Soos' Grandma is swapped with Soos, they also add Fidds as a handyman at the Shack anyways. But why not go the whole way, ya'know? Soos was a friend that Dipper met and shared a dorm with in Backupsmore. Soos was still older than Dipper. Soos and Melody were already married with a kid on the way, and Soos was also Gravity Falls' local handyman. He decided to get college and get like a mechanical engineering degree or maybe a trade in something there because even in the small town of Gravity Falls technology was only getting more and more complicated and Soos wanted to be able to keep up so he can keep making money for his family by fixing things. During their time at Backupsmore, Soos would tell Dipper about some of the crazy things he's seen living in Gravity Falls, and that inspires Dipper to go study it after college. And then the rest of that rolls out predictably. I can easily (and sadly) see Soos becoming the local kook. I imagine that it will also be much sadder for the locals to see Soos acting up because many of them have memories of him coming to fix their microwaves and stuff. And as for Fidds, he's the Mystery Shack's handyman. You can make him around the same age as the Stan twins, we know that in cannon that Soos started working there around that age, so he doesn't have to be Soos' cannon age. I think this works best with Dipper and Ford switching places because in cannon Dipper and Soos were friends, so it kinda easily transfers, ya'know. I've put a lot in this one.

And uh yeah that's my incoherent ramblings...

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Stress Relief | Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Katsuki Bakugo x AFAB Reader 💋

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: A quick unedited one shot where the reader is stressed and Katsuki decides to help her de-stress :) Nothing complicated here, just sexy vibes.

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, fingering, lemon, Smut, Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort

It’s dark in your dorm when Katsuki Bakugo slips through the unlocked door. You’re starting to fall asleep when you see the door open a crack, the light from the hallway illuminating his pale features with its glow.

You’re exhausted and not in the mood to talk to him, not after the day you had. You glare at him from your bed as he quietly shuts the door behind you.

“Come on, babe. Don’t give me that look.” He groans, padding over to your bed and slipping beneath the covers beside you. “You know that I can’t take it easy on you when we spar. You don’t get special treatment in class just because you’re my girlfriend.”

You turn away from him to face the wall, ignoring him. Not only had Katsuki hit you with an over the top, uncalled for special move in training – it was a move you had never seen before. You had thought the two of you shared absolutely everything. You were almost at the end of your third year at UA, chasing graduation. For the past year and a half, you two had been daydreaming about starting a hero agency together. If Katsuki had hid an insane special move from you only to bring it out in a simple training match…what else was he hiding?

“I know that look.” He says as he wraps his arms around you. He’s so strong and sturdy you can’t help but melt into him. “I didn’t tell you about the move because I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you would be more excited about it, honestly. Come on, babe. Don’t be mad.”

You sigh, your whole body sore from where he walloped you with his overenthusiastic explosion earlier that day. Finally, you acknowledge him. “I’ve showed you all of my special moves – even the secret ones. And yet…you kept this insane move a secret even from me. Sometimes I don’t think you trust me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, rolling your words around in his mind. When he does speak, there’s a tinge of hurt in his voice. A vulnerability that only a few people will ever hear form Katsuki Bakugo. “Babe…I didn’t realize I was keeping it a secret. I was really excited to show you. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t trust you. You’re the only person who knows absolutely all of me. You gotta believe that.” He squeezes his arms lightly around you, reinforcing the words.

You huff with frustration. “Yeah, I know, okay? I’m just really achy and pissed off that you decided to debut some flashy move while fighting me. Why couldn’t you unleash it on Kaminari or Kirishima?”

He buries his face in the back of your neck. “I was tryin’ to impress ya, is all.”

“I’d be a lot more impressed if you didn’t blast the hell out of me during a training exercise.” You try to scoot away from him and end up stretching out your muscles at an odd angle. You cry out softly at the pain.

“Did I hurt ya that bad?” He says, concern lacing his words. “You’re made of such tough stuff…but maybe I took things a little too far in the ring.” His hands run across your body soothingly, trying to rub out any aches and pains that he may have caused during your sparring.

“It’s fine. Honestly, it was a really stressful day and your new ‘special move’ was just the icing on top of the cake. I just need it to be the weekend already.” You sigh out. The past few weeks have been so stressful at school and at your work study. You’re tired and overworked, and you could really just use a break. Katsuki unleashing the full force of his explosion hell on you in class was definitely not something you were mentally or physically prepared for – all you want to do now is rest.

“I know you’ve been real stressed lately. Sorry if I added to it.” He mumbles into your shoulder, leaving light kisses along your skin. You shiver when you feel the tip of his tongue dart out to trace a shape on the sensitive skin of your clavicle.

“Hey…you know what we haven’t done in a while?” His voice suddenly brightens and his hand snakes down to grip your stomach lightly over your shirt. “I can think of a great way to give you a good dose of stress relief.” He smooths his hand down the plane of your stomach and finds the hem of your shirt, dipping underneath the thin fabric so that he can fan out his fingers across your delicate skin. “Let me take your stress away with my fingertips, sweetheart.” He begins to run his fingers back and forth under the waistband of your sweatpants. The sensual touch causes a sparking sensation to gather down in your core. Everywhere he touches, goose bumps pop up on your skin.

“…Kats.” You say, warningly. The walls of the dorm are notoriously thin, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of Mr. Aizawa’s lectures about safe sex, creating a culture of respect, the dorm rules, etc.

“Just keep quiet. I’ll make it quick as I can. No one ever has to know.” He leans in and starts to plant slow, open mouthed kisses along your neck, his fingers dipping lower and into dangerous territory. He brings the palm of his hand to rest right above your panties and slowly starts to circle your clit from over the delicate cotton fabric.

“Oh.” You breathe out, your body coming back to life as Katsuki touches you. He’s always so direct, so sure of himself. His approach to sex is reflective of that – don’t beat around the bush, just get to the heart of the pleasure.

“Yeah?” He whispers wetly before nipping at your earlobe. “You like when I touch you here?”

“Duh.” You hiss through your teeth. Katsuki pulls his hand away from your pussy and you almost cry out at the loss of contact. He brings his ring and middle fingers to his mouth and sucks, coating them in a thick sheen of saliva. He then moves to touch you again, this time sliding his hand beneath your panties for better access. When his warm, wet fingers hit your clit – your body absolutely lights up. All aches and pains are gone – its just you, Katsuki, and his magical fingers.

He starts out slow, circling around your clit until your grinding your butt back into him. He loves this – spooning you while he gets you off. He loves a good power dynamic, and this is no exception. In this position, Katsuki has most of the control. He likes that you know it, too.

He circles your clit lazily for a while, letting you get a feel for it. As you start to buck into him, he decides to speed things up, dipping his fingers low so he can gather some slick from your entrance before sliding them back up to work more on your clit. Within seconds you’re begging for him to get inside you, and he obliges – slipping a single digit into you slowly while giving your clit the attention it deserves with his thumb. He lets you hump his hand, finding the angles that work best with your body and causing you to see stars.

It’s when he slips a second finger into you that you start to get close. You feel his cock harden against the curve of your ass, eager to please. He starts leaving a trail of hot hickies along your shoulder – sucking in your sensitive skin between his sharp teeth and then kissing over marks he leaves behind. The combination of sensations is far too much, and you feel yourself get closer and closer to falling off the edge. The way Katsuki's fingers are slipping, sliding, stretching...it's far too much. You want to groan in pleasure, but you keep your mouth shut as best you can.

His fingers pump in and out of you with practiced skill, and you clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from moaning out his name for all of the dorm to hear.

“Kats!” You say in a muffled voice from behind your hand. “Kats, I’m close.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He brings his fingers out of you to focus on your clit for a bit, drawing circles and triangles and figure eights and whatever other fuckin’ shapes he knows how to make around your sensitive bundle of nerves until your legs are shaking. Then, when he feels he’s gotten you hot and bothered enough, he slides two fingers deep into your cunt, flicking them in an attempt to hit your G spot.

And holy shit he does.

Katsuki hits that delicious spongy spot deep inside you and your body jerks with pleasure. He smirks at the reaction, proud of himself for figuring you out so quickly. He hits the spot again and again and again until your pussy tenses up and falls into one of the finest orgasms you’ve had in your life. You cum so easily, your whole body shaking as he takes you apart with nothing but his fingertips. The waves of the orgasm hit you full force, your body tingling and jerking in time with his targeted movements. He lets you ride out your orgasm, mumbling quiet praise into your ear as you grind through your high.

“That’s my good girl, so perfect for me. Cumming on my fingertips so nicely. Fuck babe. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Keep cumming for me please.”

His words are just as sexy as his hand down your pants, and you can’t believe how lucky you are to have landed someone as hot as Katsuki.

When you finally finish, he slides his hand out of your panties and pulls you close. He plants a hundred kisses across your neck and shoulder, happy to have been of service. You lay in silence for a moment – you catching your breath, him glowing with pride at a job well done.

“Did I manage to take away some of your stress?” He whispers cheekily. The damn idiot is so proud of himself, as always.

“S-sure.” You try to sound calm, cool and collected but the break in your voice is enough. Katsuki knows that he achieved exactly what he set out to do. You melt back into his chest and start to doze. What a day it's been! You're too tired to speak anymore, but you manage to squeak out: “Thanks babe. Love you.”

“Love ya, too.” He says, settling in under the covers and planting a last kiss on your back. “But I’m still not taking it easy on ya during training.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Is the last thing you say before drifting off into a sound sleep.

[bleue-flora]

For absolutely no reason whatsoever, I feel like we should talk about Limbo. Because it’s a interesting topic with lots of space for theories and perhaps this will help us come back to some common ground of discussion, and be an open enough topic to allow everyone, whether someone who just joined the fandom or has been here for years, to hopefully feel safe and welcome enough to join in and share their thoughts and opinions. Go ahead and use the tag #dsmp limbo so I can see your thoughts, there is no right or wrong answer here.

To start off the discussion, we know the time dilation based on what Wilbur has said is about 30/1 - meaning every 1 second is 30 seconds in limbo, every 2 minutes is 1 hour in limbo, every 48 minutes is 1 day in limbo, every 1 day is a about 1 month in limbo and so on just to give you perspective. We also know based on both what happens in the finale and by what Dream says in the finale, that Limbo changes based on how you die and the circumstances around your death.

Now here are my thoughts at the moment on the matter. While a lot of times I see Limbo in fanfics more personalized to the person killed, one theory I came up with to explain Limbo is that it is actually is more connected to the situation around the death and killer/death.

For example, Schlatt died of a stroke and his limbo then becomes a gym, themeing off the fact of becoming healthy and fit something he wasn’t in life. That lead to his nation being taken over and him not being physically capable to stop it as well as him dying to a stroke, which we are encouraged to believe is caused by his alcoholism.

But I feel like perhaps Schlatt’s is the easiest to connect, Wilbur’s on the other hand is a little weirder. But I think the train station is actually connected to Philza having just arrived, so the relation to travel. Trains are often kept on a schedule to be on time and Philza’s appearance is just in time to kill Wilbur, but too late to stop him from pushing the button.

Mexican Dream’s limbo then reflects more of Dream than of Mexican Dream. With an empty, unfinished nation not unlike how empty and isolated Dream likely felt, as well as angry about nations for being the cause.

This theory becomes a little stronger when looking at Tommy’s 1st Limbo being an existence of basically nothing. And I think this reflects how Dream kinda has nothing at this point. Also relating to how Tommy killed the cat (and am I miss remembering that he also burned his clock?) the only thing(s) Dream had left. It could alternatively relate to an empty stomach adding an element from his death being from the potato.

Rambo’s limbo then connects to Sam for a few reasons, one I think Sam felt very alone in his efforts to keep Dream locked up. Like only he could do it and no one was helping him. It is also similar in the fact that Sam felt so cornered and trapped like killing Ranboo was the only thing he could do, similar to how one would feel stuck on a tiny island surrounded by water that burns. It’s also interesting since for Ranboo, the island is also inescapable like the prison and he is only able to leave when Mexican Dream comes (like Dream only escaping prison when Techno comes), oh and Sam lives on an island too.

Then finally Tommy’s 2nd Limbo I think pretty clearly relates to Tommy asking before he died about why and how Dream saw things, and Dream’s comment of “everything was fine before you came!” so Limbo shows Tommy Dream’s pov at the beginning. Reflecting how Dream feels, his - “I just don’t want to ever be alone.”

Anyways, hopefully that made some sense, those are just some thoughts I have at the moment. Now I wanna hear yours. :) How do you think limbo works? What do you think Punz’s and Dream’s Limbos were? What were Vik’s, Lazar’s and Connor’s Limbos? What do you think would have been Tubbo’s, Techno’s or other character’s Limbos? How was Quackity able to visit Limbo in Las Nevadas?…

[luna-azzurra]

do you have any advice for writing a love confession without making it grossly cheesy or awkward?

im writing one between long time childhood best friends that are EXTREMELY close and im so stuck

Since these two characters have been best friends for a long time, the confession should feel like it’s built off their history together. Maybe start with a memory that’s meaningful to both of them. It doesn’t have to be a huge, dramatic moment, something small but personal, like a time they supported each other or a running joke they’ve had forever.

For example, one of them could say something like

“Remember that time we got caught in the rain walking home from school, and you made up that ridiculous song to keep me from freaking out? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately… and I realized that’s when I first started seeing you differently.”

When people confess their feelings, especially in a real and vulnerable way, it’s usually not in flowery language. If you try to make it too poetic or dramatic, it might feel forced. Instead, keep it honest and straightforward. They don’t need to say “I’ve loved you all along” in some grand, movie-like way. Let the confession come out more naturally, almost like they’ve been fighting it for a while and finally just have to get it off their chest.

You could have them say

“I don’t really know how to say this, and it might sound weird… but somewhere along the way, I started seeing you as more than just my best friend.”

There’s no way for this kind of confession to be totally smooth, and honestly, that’s what makes it feel more authentic. They’ve been best friends forever, so there’s going to be nerves, maybe some hesitation or stumbling over words. Lean into that awkwardness, it actually makes the moment more relatable and shows how important it is to them.

Maybe one of them starts talking, realizes they’re rambling, and tries to correct themselves. Like

“Okay, wait, that sounded dumb, let me start over. What I’m trying to say is… you mean a lot to me, more than I’ve probably ever said out loud, and it’s kind of terrifying because I don’t want to mess things up between us. But I’ve gotta be honest, this is how I feel.” The vulnerability in admitting they’re scared to ruin the friendship makes it more heartfelt and real.

This is probably the most important part! These two aren’t just falling for each other out of nowhere, they’ve built this strong, deep friendship over the years. So the confession should acknowledge how much that means to them. Make it clear that the romantic feelings don’t take away from their friendship but add to it.

You could have one of them say something like

“You’ve always been the person I turn to for everything, and that’s not gonna change, no matter what. But lately, I’ve been feeling something more, and I can’t keep pretending it’s not there. I just hope it doesn’t mess things up between us.” This way, they’re emphasizing that the friendship is still the foundation of everything, but they can’t ignore the fact that it’s evolving into something deeper.

Overall, just make sure it feels true to the characters and their relationship. Don’t feel like you have to tie it up neatly with a perfect line or a romantic kiss right away. The beauty of this kind of love confession is that it’s messy and emotional, and it should reflect the complexity of their relationship. They don’t need to have all the answers right away. Let the moment be about the honesty and the fact that they’re finally admitting something that’s been building for a while.

Maybe end with something like

“I don’t know where this goes from here, but I had to tell you. You’re too important to me to keep pretending like I don’t feel this way.” This leaves room for both characters to process what’s happening without forcing a big romantic resolution right away. It’s more about them taking that first step into new territory, which feels more genuine and in line with the close friendship they’ve had for so long.

[clonecaptains]

Tyler or Jake introducing you to friends/coworkers as his wife without realizing it even though you aren't married (not even engaged), thoughts?

omg anon this has been in my inbox for a hot minute and ive just bene letting it sit. i love this idea! esp because both of them have a big group of friends that's part of their stories. with the wranglers and the dagger squad there's a lot of different interactions to talk about!

i wrote a couple tiny lil things! thanks for the ask!

tyler

It’s your first time meeting the Wranglers, and you think Tyler might be more nervous than you are. It’s a nice night, and everyone is gathered for a little cook-out. You show up a little late, your dessert took longer than you anticipated to make.

When you arrive at the door, Tyler is quick to answer it to let you in. He gives you a kiss on your temple then on your lips as he takes the dessert from you to put on the kitchen counter.

His hand on your lower back, he guides you outside to greet everyone.

“Y’all, here she is,” Tyler pulls you closer to him. “I’d like you to meet my wife,” and he tells them your name, proudly kissing you on the top of your head.

“Wife?”

“Is that what I said?” Tyler’s cheeks turn pink while the wranglers make a collective “ooOoOooOoOOo” noise to tease him.

He gives you an apologetic look and another kiss for added measure.

“If you’d have me,” he whispers in your ear later. “I’d love if you were my wife.”

___________________

jake

You’re going with Jake to an event, your hand on his arm. He’s happy you’re with him – proud to show off his girl, especially at this swanky event. It’ll be the first time a lot of his fellow pilots will meet you, and he’s got a little more pep in his step than usual.

It makes you smile to see him so excited to introduce you to his friends and coworkers.

You’re in a small cluster of pilots and their dates introducing their dates to each other.

When it comes to Jake’s turn, he calls you his wife. Your eyes widen, and he doesn’t realize what he’s said.

“Wife?” Your face warms when one of the other pilots speaks up. “Damn did you get married and not tell us?”

Jake grins his typical cheeky grin, “no, slip of the tongue. She’s my girlfriend. Does sound like me to whisk you away and marry you though, doesn’t it?” he pulls you closer to him, his hand on your hip.  

[redrose10]

Here is #6 from the photo game!

Warnings: Swearing, hints of cheating, anxiety, depression

A relaxing weekend spent at a cabin with your boyfriend sounded like an amazing idea at the time. No distractions, no work, just you and Yoongi spending a few days together. The fall time was the busiest time of the year thanks to the leaves changing and the brisk air making cuddling by the fireplace more desirable. To make sure you got the reservation and to get the best deal you booked the cabin six months in advance.

Then life happened and you and Yoongi got in an argument. It wasn’t anything new. You two had been together for four years and had arguments every now and then like any couple. You could tell something was different this time though. He seemed angrier, less willing to communicate and more closed off. You walked into the bedroom to give each other some space expecting to work things out later. Ten minutes went by and Yoongi walked in with red eyes and his cheeks soaked with tears.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I can’t do this any more.”, he whispered before shoving some of his clothes in a bag and running out the door. That was two months ago and you haven’t spoken since.

“Y/N you should go on the trip. Take a relaxing weekend for yourself. You deserve it.”, your best friend said over dinner.

The romantic trip you had planned with Yoongi was coming up. After all that happened you had forgotten to cancel it before the required date and now it was too late. The trip was non-refundable at this point. You thought about just loosing out but it was a lot of money.

“I don’t know. I wish you were available to go with me. Isn’t it kind of weird to go alone? Yoongi also helped pay so I don’t really think it’s fair for only me to go and even worse what if he shows up?”, you questioned.

“Y/N first off you paid for half the trip too so it’s just as much yours as it is his. Secondly I really doubt he even remembers it’s coming up. He looks pretty busy right now anyways.”

You followed her line of sight until your stomach dropped at what you saw. While you were barely able to function the last couple months Yoongi appeared to happily be on a date with another woman across the restaurant like he had moved on with no issue.

“How could he move on from me so fast?”, you asked rhetorically.

Your friend shrugged, “Maybe he’s known her for a while. He could’ve been cheating on you for all we know.”

“No he wouldn’t have done that to me. He wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”, she said pointing over in Yoongi’s direction. The woman he was with had turned around to grab her bag and you gasped, “Nari?”

You bit your lip trying not to cry. Nari was a producer that worked for the same company as Yoongi. She made you feel really insecure from the moment you met her. She was beautiful and smart and funny and worked as a producer just like Yoongi so they had a lot in common. You were suspicious from the first time you met her. It definitely crossed your mind a few times that maybe he liked her more than he lead on. He assured you over and over that she was nothing more than a coworker though and that you had absolutely nothing to worry about. You believed him. And now here he was staring into her eyes just two short months after breaking your heart into a million pieces. You started to wonder if maybe he really had been cheating on you that whole time. Your sadness and hurt began to change to anger the more you pondered that.

Suddenly you stood up grabbing your things. “Where are you going?”, your friend questioned confused.

“Home. I’ve got a trip to pack for.”, you gritted through your teeth.

The drive up the mountain to your cabin was a little scarier than you expected. You took your bag out of the back seat and entered in the code that the rental company had given you to gain access to the front door.

The cabin was adorable and you were really happy with your choice. It was tiny but enough for two people and more than enough for just one. The bedroom and the bathroom were at the back of the cabin and after your long stressful drive you wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and lay in bed and relax for a while before dinner.

You were drying your hair after your shower when you heard the front door open and shut followed by some jingling keys. Immediately you went into panic mode. You were alone in a cabin in the middle of the mountains. You couldn’t run anywhere and no one would hear you scream. You grabbed the fire poker from the bedroom fire place to use as a weapon and then slowly tiptoed down the hall ready to fight whomever was entering the cabin.

“What are you doing here?”, a deep familiar voice asked before you could speak. “Me?! What are you doing here?”, you spat back at Yoongi who was glaring at you.

For a brief moment you were a little relieved to see him and not a serial killer ready to claim their next victim but that relief was quickly replaced with anger.

“Seriously Yoongi, why are you here?”

Suddenly it hit you, what if he was here with Nari? Like what if he brought her here to enjoy the romantic couples trip you had planned for the two of you. You felt sick at the thought.

“I paid for half of this trip too. I need some time alone so I can work and get some stuff done.”

“What too many “distractions” at home?”, you rolled your eyes immediately thinking about him and another woman.

“Yeah actually there are. Not that it’s any of your business.”, he clapped back.

That hurt and your angry confidence faltered. Your lip began to quiver. You knew you needed to get away from him before he could see you cry.

“Fine. Do what you want. I’ll be in the bedroom.”, you said storming off and slamming the door shut behind you.

When you woke up the room was completely dark. The curtains were still open and it was clearly the middle of the night. You didn’t mean to cry yourself to sleep but you must’ve been more exhausted than you thought.

You were stretching out on the bed when your stomach started to rumble reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since the morning. Slowly cracking open the bedroom door you were met with silent darkness. Maybe you got lucky and Yoongi decided to go back home. That would be ideal you thought.

You tiptoed down the hall only to be met with the sound of soft snores coming from the couch. You peaked over finding Yoongi sound asleep all wrapped up in a blanket. He looked so cuddly and warm and you missed falling asleep with his arms wrapped around you.

Thankfully your stomach grumbled again getting you back on the right track. Yoongi was not yours to cuddle any more anyways.

The kitchen was small but livable. As quietly as possible you poked around hoping to find something you could quickly turn into a meal. Unfortunately thanks to the events earlier you didn’t even think to go to the grocery store to stock up so the kitchen was bare. You chugged a large glass of water hoping it would hold you over a few more hours until you could go get breakfast somewhere.

You turned to rinse out your glass when you saw a note sitting on the counter. The handwriting familiar,

“Pizza in the fridge. Promise I didn’t poison it. Just didn’t want to wake you. -Yoongi.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to run into the living room and hug him. But instead you chose to just take a slice of pizza, conveniently with your favorite toppings which only made you want to cry more, and headed back to your room to hideout until the morning.

Somehow you managed to doze off again for another few hours. The bright sun shining through the crack in your curtains waking you up this time. You got ready for the day, putting a little more effort into your appearance than you had for the last couple months. You kept telling yourself it had absolutely nothing to do with Yoongi.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of pepperoni and garlic. Just as you walked in Yoongi was pulling what was left of the pizza out of the oven.

“This will have to do for breakfast. We’ll have to go into town and get some groceries.”, he said when he noticed you.

“Oh if you want to make a list I can just go. You said you had a lot of work to do.”, you replied wanting to avoid having to spend so much time with him.

But he shook his head, “It rained quite a bit last night. The roads might be rough. We’ll go together.”

You knew there was no use in arguing with him and maybe a small part of your heart warmed up at the thought that he still worried about you like that.

“Okay. We can leave after breakfast.”, you nodded.

The drive into town was silent and uneventful. The little town was cute to say the least. You even took note of the realty company there because you wouldn’t mind moving there some day.

At the grocery store you both quickly gathered what you needed. Mostly snacks since you were only there for one more night. You grabbed some fruit and a giant tub of ice cream. Yoongi grabbed a six pack and some instant noodles.

He surprised you when he suggested you both stop for lunch. You really wanted to say no but he was driving so you didn’t have much of choice anyways. You ended up at a quaint little cafe. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming even though the tension between you and Yoongi was ice cold.

You were sat on the back patio over looking the beautiful fall foliage. Several outdoor fire pits provided more than enough warmth.

“So how have you been?”, Yoongi awkwardly asked.

“Fine I guess. Not as good as you apparently.”, you replied harsher than you meant to.

“What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked confused.

You went to apologize but were interrupted.

“Alright did you two decide what you’re having today?”, the waiter Jin asked.

“Uh yeah just the classic burger for me.”, Yoongi replied.

“The harvest soup please.”, you said handing him your menu.

After he walked away the tension between you both was thicker than before.

You realized that Yoongi had been kind through the whole trip. Saving pizza for you, sleeping on the couch without argument so you could have the bed, heating up breakfast, taking you into town and paying for the groceries, now taking you to a nice cafe and trying to have a civil conversation. You realized you had been the one making things difficult.

“Hey Yoongi I’m sorry about what I sa-“, you began but his phone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket and you felt your blood boil when you saw the contact name flashing on the screen, Nari.

“Sorry Y/N. I have to take this.”, he said walking away from the table.

“Of course.”, you scoffed thankful that you didn’t fully apologize yet.

Feeling anxious and not wanting to just sit there any more you walked over to the balcony so you could look out over the property.

“They’re beautiful aren’t they?”, a guy said next to you. He pointed out to the field after noticing your confusion, “The trees.”

“Oh yeah. They’re gorgeous.”, you chuckled.

“They’re tulip trees. They’re even more beautiful when they bloom in the spring.”, he said, “I’m Namjoon by the way.”

He smiled flashing you the prettiest dimples you’d ever seen.

“Y/N”, you said, “Maybe I’ll have to come back in the spring to see them in bloom. That sounds quite nice actually.”

“Oh you’re not a local?”, he asked, “You know… if you want I could show you around the town a little.”

“I’d like that, but I’m just here on a little weekend trip. I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh Uhh are you here on a trip with your boyfriend?”

Your brows furrowed, “What? No I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Namjoon awkwardly chuckled, “Well um does that guy know that because he’s currently staring at us like he wants to kill me?”

You looked where he was pointing to see Yoongi standing there. His hands in his pockets while he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. And he was in fact staring daggers at you. You knew just from that look that he was furious.

“Don’t worry. He’s just a complicated friend thing person….”, you cringed.

“Okay well if you want to give me call I’d be happy to show you around. Maybe don’t bring your friend thing though.”, he laughed handing you his number.

You walked back to the table just as Jin dropped off your meals. You both ate in silence and that carried over to the drive back to the cabin too.

Once the groceries were unloaded Yoongi grabbed his headphones and laptop and went out to the back deck without a word.

You stood and watched him work for a while. The Yoongi that you knew all these years would never just give you the silent treatment. He discussed what was bothering him so that you could work together to solve it.

He answered another phone call. You figured it was Nari again so you walked away to give him some privacy.

You had just finished plating up dinner when Yoongi came walking back inside. He eyed the food and then you. “We didn’t have much to make a big meal but I put together what I could.”, you said shifting awkwardly under his gaze.

“Not hungry.”, he scoffed before turning to walk back outside.

“Seriously Yoongi, what the fuck is your problem?”

He stopped and turned to look at you, “I don’t have a problem. Why don’t you go out and have a nice dinner with your little friend you met earlier.”

You hated that you could feel tears already begin to form, “You’re one to talk.”

With three long strides he was right in front of you giving you somewhat of a startle, “Me? I haven’t done anything other than be a heartbroken mess these last two months without you but the minute a cute guy flirts with you then you’re practically trying to fuck him right there.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Your heart rate was skyrocketing. From his pocket you could hear his phone ringing again and it all came back to you.

“At least I waited until you broke up with me. You are the asshole who was cheating on me the whole time.”, you whispered as the realization of your words hit you. Tears began freely falling as you turned and ran back into the bedroom closing the door behind you.

You never expected that this trip would be filled with so much crying and hurt. It was supposed to be relaxing and fun.

You waited a while until you had calmed down and then decided you weren’t spending another night in the same cabin with Yoongi so you grabbed your bag and packed up your clothes. You did a double check making sure you had everything and with your car keys in hand you pulled open the bedroom door only to hear a loud thud followed by a groan.

Quickly you found the hall light switch flipping it on only to find a very buzzed Yoongi rolling around on the floor. The six pack he had gotten at the store now empty and tossed around him.

“Y/N please don’t leave. I need you.”, he slurred.

You looked over his face. He looked just as bad as you did if not worse. Clearly he had been crying. His nose was bright red and his eyes still teary.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”, you sighed while helping him up thankful you talked him out of the twelve pack.

Worried that he would roll off the couch you decided to let him have the bed. You were leaving anyways so it didn’t matter. Once he was all tucked in you tried once again to leave but he grabbed your wrist, “Y/N you can’t leave. I already lost you once and I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

He started to cry. You started to cry. You agreed to stay.

When you woke up the next morning Yoongi was already staring at you.

“I never cheated on you with Nari. I know that’s what you think happened.”, he said getting right to the point like the Yoongi you knew.

You stared at him in silence. Your throat was sore and your head hurt from all the crying.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “Y/N, I broke up with you because that’s what I thought was best for you. Just it’s just that the last couple months I felt like I was drowning. Work was piling up, I was spending less and less time with you. My mental and physical health were deteriorating. I saw how worried you were about me. I saw how sad you were. How tired you were. All because of me. And then I had a realization that I didn’t bring anything positive to our relationship. So when we got into that fight I saw it as my way to get you out of this. To free you from me.”

He paused for a second. He used his thumb to wipe away some of your tears that you hadn’t even realized were there again.

“But after we broke up I realized how much you held me together. I couldn’t function without you but every time I’d pick up my phone to call you or every time I’d stand outside your door ready to knock I would remind myself that this was what’s best for you. You wouldn’t be able to live your life if I was there dragging you down. But I’ve been a complete mess since that night. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. My work was slipping so bad and that’s why I had that dinner with Nari. The one you saw me at. She’s a head producer now and technically my boss. She told me that if I didn’t get my shit together that they would have to terminate my contract. That’s why she keeps calling me, to check in and see how my progress is coming along. And I’m sorry about what I said about you and that guy. If you want to go out with him it’s none of my business. I’ll work through my feelings alone.”

You sat for a moment trying to process everything that you just heard because you had no idea that he was feeling that way.

“Yoongi I’m sorry that you felt like that but you don’t get to make that decision for me. I would go to hell and back for you and with you. Part of being in a relationship is being there through not only the good times but the difficult ones too.”

After you heard sniffles coming from next to you, you noticed that he was crying. You pulled him into your lap which he happily allowed wrapping his arms around you and pulling himself as flush against you as he could. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your next to soothe himself.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I never meant to hurt you. I actually wanted was trying to do the opposite.”, he spoke through sobs.

“Shhh shhh I know. We can talk more about it later.”

And you did have a long discussion about all of the events that lead up to that moment. It was much needed and helped you both to open up and put all of your feelings out there.

You agreed to take things slow but you spent the rest of the day happily wrapped in each others arms by the fireplace just like you had originally planned .

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Book Report: Royal Audience

Welcome to another semi-recurring feature, where I read the royal books so you don’t have to.

A new royal book has recently been published. This one I found at my library in the “new books”/“this just in” section.

It’s about the Special Relationship between the US and the UK, focusing mainly on The Queen’s relationship with the POTUS.

There’s a lot of history and international politics discussed, but I found it an easy, enjoyable read. I do wish the photographs had been in color instead of black and white so it’d be easier to see the details, which are often discussed in the text. One thing that quickly became clear while reading is that of the men whom are considered The Queen’s favorites, the only thing they all have in common is that they gave attention to and supported the whole family at-large, like hosting Charles or Anne, being friendly with Margaret, giving opportunities for Philip to visit solo, etc. The POTUSes that just gave attention to The Queen and Philip weren’t as successful as nurturing the Special Relationship.

So without further ado, anecdotes about The Queen’s Presidents:

Hoover: The Queen never formally met him “in office,” but she sat next to him at dinner once in the ‘50s.

Wilson: The Queen never met him but he did visit George V at Windsor Castle (the first POTUS invited to Windsor) and that visit set the tone for many of the POTUSes’ visits to The Queen.

FDR: Another POTUS that The Queen never met, but her parents did. George VI and the Queen Mother were the first reigning monarchs to visit the US in 1939 and it was a smashing success. While the Americans have always had an affinity for the BRF, it was this tour (in which FDR and Eleanor served the royals their first hot dogs) that cemented how much Americans supported, or would show up for, the royals if/when they came to visit:

As the Washington Post once wrote, “She’s not our queen but before we’re through with her, she’ll probably think she is” and as Obama once quipped to Charles: “it’s fair to say that the American people are quite fond of the royal family…they like them much better than they like their own politicians.”

Truman was POTUS when Elizabeth and Philip had their first official tour of the US in October 1951 as Duchess and Duke of Edinburgh. The trip, conducted as part of a visit to Canada, was delayed due to King George’s lung surgery and resulted in Elizabeth and Philip taking the BRF’s first international flight. Apparently everyone was so nervous about the flight that the Royal Navy deployed battleships every 700 nautical miles across the Atlantic just in case. By taking the flight, the royals were only a week behind schedule and they sailed home with 97 pieces of luggage.

Eisenhower: the Eisenhower were considered family friends by the royals. He remains the only POTUS to be invited to Balmoral and Elizabeth sent him her personal recipe for drop scones which - yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus - is published in the book, for all you home bakers. The Queen made her first state visit to the US under Eisenhower coinciding with the 350th anniversary of the Jamestown Colony (a trip Her Majesty would repeat 50 years later for the 400th anniversary and made me late to school but that’s another story for later). This state visit is what finally knocked Sputnik off the American front pages.

Kennedy: If you watched the Kennedy episodes of The Crown’s Season 2, you can skip this chapter. Kennedy once met a young Princess Elizabeth though, when his father was the US ambassador.

Johnson: The Queen never met Johnson in person. LBJ didn’t like traveling and preferred to focus on domestic affairs and Vietnam. But Princess Margaret did meet LBJ while on a visit to the US, which is also chronicled on The Crown, which the author takes great pains to mention is fiction because Margaret and LBJ never actually did kiss 🙄. LBJ and The Queen were friendly in letters though.

Nixon: hosted The Queen’s very first Thanksgiving dinner when he visited London in November 1958 (while Eisenhower’s VP) to open the American Memorial Chapel at St. Paul’s Cathedral. The Queen’s acceptance of the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner caused such a consternation because Nixon hadn’t lacked a tuxedo that all the men in the American delegation who had traveled with him and worked at the embassy were measured to find someone from whom Nixon could borrow a tuxedo. Nixon’s visit to Buckingham Palace in February 1969 was the first time that color film was used at the palace.

Ford: hosted The Queen and Philip during the US’s bicentennial celebrations. It is considered to be one of The Queen’s most successful visits/tours. The tour was in July 1976 and if you know East Coast summer weather, you have an idea already what the weather was like. First there were rough seas that made even Philip seasick (they flew from London to Bermuda, then sailed on Britannia from Bermuda to Philly). Then there was humid muggy heat in Philly that The Queen was fanning herself often. And then in DC, it was even swampier with daytime temps of 100F in the shade. The bicentennial visit later became the theme of The Queen’s 1976 Christmas message - reconciliation.

Carter: Carter was the POTUS most considered to be The Queen’s peer since they were closest in age, and that’s about the only thing they had in common. He horribly offended The Queen Mother by kissing her at the G7, hosted Princess Anne on her first solo trip to the US (wherein she shocked the press by being more like Philip in her temperament than The Queen), and personally lobbied Westminster Abbey to include his favorite poet - Dylan Thomas - in Poets Corner. His wife, Rosalyn, is the only FLOTUS The Queen didn’t meet.

Reagan: After Eisenhower, probably the POTUS The Queen was closest to, over their shared love of horses. Their relationship reminds me of the classic “introvert adopted by extroverts” trope (albeit in its own unique way). The Reagans’ first trip to the UK was chaotic in its planning with offenses left and right that made Margaret Thatcher reel. Charles and Nancy had a wonderful relationship and were close for the rest of her life.

Bush 41: Bush (another peer who of similar demographics to The Queen; they were just a few years apart in age, he served in WW2 with a career that reminded her of Philip’s, each had four surviving children, their eldest sons were relatively the same age) was favorite POTUS #3 after Eisenhower and Reagan. The relationship started off rocky, but it was Pickles - a puppy from the Bushes’ dog given to a friend whom The Queen had visited - that smoothed everything over and the two couples got along well. The Queen’s official visit under Bush 41 began with the infamous ‘talking hat’ speech and saw her take in her first baseball game. It was proposed that Philip should throw the first pitch out but The Queen nixed it, though she did join Bush for a little walkabout on the field before the game started. (Boo. I would’ve rather liked to see Philip throw the first pitch. I bet he’d have thrown a strike without any practice.)

Clinton: Clinton prioritized the relationship with Blair more than with The Queen, which ended up salvaging the Special Relationship after Blair’s predecessor (John Major) practically blew it up by getting involved in the 1992 POTUS election when he/his government campaigned for Bush. But Clinton came around to The Queen in the end. Clinton is notably the first president who was younger than The Queen and I suspect his presidency marked a change in how The Queen approached the special relationship.

And also, there’s a very good chance that this chapter illustrates Meghan’s obsession with Hillary Clinton - Diana and Hillary had a good enough friendship, even if only a working relationship, that Diana co-chaired a White House breakfast with Hillary. The book also points out that much of Diana’s post-BRF work in the US took place in the Clinton administration, so now I’m wondering if perhaps Meghan sees the Clintons as a partial extension of Diana’s network and that’s why she tries so hard with Hillary. (And also there’s the obvious that Hillary knew/met Diana so maybe Meghan has been trying to court Hillary to be part of the “Meghan is just like Diana” fan club.)

Bush 43: had the first official full state visit of The Queen’s reign, which was also only the second state visit by a US President (Wilson in 1918). There were significant security concerns due to the War on Terror and this is also when the Daily Mail’s reporter was a footman for 2 months; the reporter broke his own cover to report on the state visit. The Queen had her final state visit to the US in May 2007 as part of the celebrations for the 400th anniversary of Jamestown. (Her visit was the unofficial kickoff to the official celebrations, which began the week after.)

I didn’t know this, but The Queen personally donated a significant sum to the 9/11 memorial funds. Also The Queen enjoys Mexican food. A lady after my own heart!

Obama: Obama’s relationship with Britain began cool, owing to family tragedy closely connected with British colonialism in Kenya. He and the PM at the time, Brown, didn’t seem to get on, but The Queen stepped in and it’s thought her gentleness with the Obamas is what softened Obama’s consideration of the British. I do believe that Obama was the first head of state to see The Queen as more a grandmotherly figure and that helped boost The Queen’s global reputation (Bush 43 and Clinton saw her as motherly, and everyone through Bush 41 saw her as a contemporary/peer).

In the epilogue, the author writes that he believes Obama was favorite POTUS #4. I think the Obamas had a special friendship with The Queen, but sometimes I feel like it was more of mentorship, with The Queen showing them a generous kindness they weren’t expecting that led to both of them learning from her what it means to be diplomatic without losing sense of themselves.

Trump: His working visit in 2018 and the state visit in 2019 both were preceded by chaos and politics. A lot of people looked to The Queen’s symbolism in her outfits for how she felt about him. Trump held The Queen in high esteem, which she seemed to reciprocate diplomatically, but he had waffling views on Britain itself and that seemed to affect how the Special Relationship was managed (ie one day they were allies, the next day, Trump was assailing the mayor of London on Twitter).

Biden: No one quite knew what to do with him. He had proud Irish heritage so everyone thought he wouldn’t regard Britain well, but at the same time, Biden was outspoken against Brexit and Boris Johnson, which aligned with mainstream feelings of the day, so they weren’t sure how the wind was going to blow. But the Special Relationship prevailed, with Biden in a unique position that saw him speaking more about the generosity and the humanity of The Queen given what was happening to her - first the COVID protocols, then Oprah interview, then Philip’s passing, then her own illness.

(Biden is in the “Queen as motherly” club with Clinton and Bush 43.)

[lyrenminth]

The way you are

"Mmmm I like what I see" Justin raspy voice says from the bedroom's door. You straighten up, covering your breasts. It's his voice and the way he looks at you that makes you flush. You don't feel hot anymore, after three children your body changed a lot. A flat belly it's impossible at this point, and there are stretch marks in your belly, between your thighs, ass and boobs. And Justin is still hot, older, wiser. Lucky you.

You turned you back to him to put a bra on. "You scare me" you reply. You feel his presence behind you, and his big hands touching your breasts and your belly, hugging you, bringing you closer to him. He kisses the top of your head, then your neck, you feel the stubble grazing your tender skin, you squirm away. "Are you not tired?" after practice he still makes time to fulfill his dad duties, playing with the children or helping them with their homework.

"No, not so much" he replies, smiling against your ear. "God, you are so soft" you try your best to keep him close to you, but sometimes the self-sabotage is strong and you think he says those things out of pity. You're his wife, the mother of his children and yet, you don't feel good enough.

"My hair is wet" you say struggling to lock your bra, Justin takes the bra off, his hands covering your breasts instead. "I like it better like this" he says, playing with your boobs, pinching the nipples. You giggle, and turn around to face him. "The kids are already in bed?" you ask. "Yes, I left everything prepared for tomorrow. You don't need to worry" you stand on your tip toes to give him a grateful kiss. He leans on, and what it was supposed to be a chastise kiss turns into something more when he slips his tongue inside your mouth. "Justin.." you whisper, flustered. His intensity always surprises you, because usually he's in control about most things.

"Are you tired?" he asks against your lips. Meaning: do you want to fuck?

"No, but I don't feel sexy" you laugh. You can't hide the sadness in your voice. Justin stops to look at you, frowning. "I noticed you have been rejecting me more lately, it's because of that?" he wonders, serious. You gulp, feeling guilty. "Mmmm, yes. Some days"

"You're the most beautiful woman in my eyes" he lowers himself to be at the same eye-level as you. His words are honest and raw. He touches your belly full of stretch marks. "You made me a father, you give me a family, a purpose, everything I wanted it. You're my best friend and as the co-president of the Best Friends Committee, I forbidden self-hate" he jokes, remembering the old joke you made when you became friends back then. "And, you turn me on so much doing anything, baby" he says a little ashamed. "When you bend over the dishwasher, hard on. Packing lunches for our kids, hard on. Helping Mr. Reynolds with his poodle, hard on"

"Okay, I get it" you say, feeling emotional over his confession. "But I-I wish I could change some things"

"Like what?"

"My belly for instance" he looks pensive for a few moments before saying "I love you, I love you before and after all we went through, but I want you to feel happy. I recall you mentioned surgery to "fix you" and...well, if it's truly what you want, I would support you" he declares, getting closer once again. "But don't push me away, don't hide from me please. I love you as you are"

You press your lips together trying not to cry. "I love you" you hug him, burning your chest on his pecs, smelling his perfume. You don't realize that you're naked, but doesn't matter because Justin wants you anyway. You felt something poking at your belly.

"Let me show you that I don't care" he says softly against your ear. "Let me show you how much I adore you"

Your heart beats fast against your chest, feeling the butterflies again. After a decade together, Justin still makes you giggle like a highschool girl. Your hands take some liberties and run across his body, feeling the muscles underneath the blue shirt that makes his eyes sparkle more.

And now those eyes a eating you slowly. Lusty Justin is a sight to behold.

You lick your lips. The ache in between your legs growing each moment.

"Yes, show me please"

[thehollowwriter]

Meet Morrigan Clearcove, NRC's Prodigious Alumni

Morrigan is- or well, was- a teacher at Atlantica's School for Young Mages, a place specifically focused on teaching and nurturing children who show promise in magic. He's in his early 50s (technically, he would be in his late 60s...) and an alumni of NRC well-known for his intelligence impressive magical prowess. He was very popular and well-liked in Atlantica despite past *ahem* incidents... until he married Silas, that is.

Some Basic Info:

☆Name: Morrigan Clearcove

☆Homeland: The Coral Sea

☆Species: Cookie cutter shark mer (coastal)

☆Birthday: 12 October

☆Height/length: 158cm

☆Dominant hand: Right

☆Hobbies: Songwriting, singing, dancing, learning new spells

☆Likes: Spending time with Silas, learning new things, food, teaching, his students, being the best

☆Dislikes: Losing, being ignored, his parents, strict rules

☆Favourite food: Tuna seaweed wraps

☆Least favourite food: Mussels

Personality:

Morrigan is a fella with a short temper (that he has worked on a lot, thank you) and fiery spirit. He's very charming and polite most of the time, of course, though that quickly falls away when he gets pissed off and becomes passive-aggressive and snarky. He's come very far since his youth, where he'd explode into anger and violence very easily.

He's immensely passionate about what and who he loves and always speaks his mind. He's incredibly intelligent and adept at magic with a love for puzzle solving and learning new things.Morrigan is also someone who is very playful and smug and likes to mess around with people for laughs.

He's a jokester (he was meant to be a dad all along, it seems) and a prankster at heart even if he has toned it down. He's resistant to strict rules and gets irritated easily when his actions are restricted and when he's told what to do.

Morrigan is very competitive and has an almost obsessive desire to win at everything and prove himself as the best. He has internalised the idea that what he can do and how well he can do it (ESPECIALLY magic) is tied to his worth since he was a child. He's been trying not to think like that so much... Silas kicking his ass both in fights and in hunting competitions seems to be helping that along

Appearance:

Morrigan has long, curlydark green hair, lighter green skin, and dark green scales and fins. He has lots of freckles and a hooked nose. His eyes are aquamarine, and he has razor-sharp teeth that don't entirely fit in his mouth and razor-sharp claws. His tail and fins look just like those of a cookie cutter shark.

Morrigan has a number of scars on his neck, tail, and sides. There aren't many, and most are in the form of clawmarks and bite marks most of them came from Silas 💀

Morrigan also has a band of black scales around his neck, and from just below that all the way to his navel are photophores that glow in the dark, which helps him camouflage and can even make him look like a school of fish from below.

Morrigan doesn't wear clothes, of course, but he does wear Silas' courting gift to him, a necklace of orca teeth and a volute shell, almost always.

Important Things to Know:

☆Morrigan's magic is incredibly powerful, and he's been regarded as a "magical prodigy" for as long as he can remember

☆It was because of his experiences being a "gifted" prodigy child that he had taken the job he had. He wanted to at least do what he could to help and support those far too young kids burdened with so many expectations just like he was

☆Morrigan attended NRC and was in Savanaclaw

☆Morrigan was almost expelled from NRC but his sheer magical ability and remarkable grades (save a... certain time in his school career) that saved his hide

☆Morrigan is dead. Very dead. He was murdered and has been dead for 17 years

☆Morrigan has an incredible singing voice and is very musically talented

☆Morrigan is very talented in general. He is regarded as a "jack of all trades" who can master many skills quickly

☆Morrigan is very much neaurodivergent, idk what it is yet, though

Family:

Morrigan has a husband, Silas Clearcove, and they both unofficially adopted Timo Byun, a young teen who works for Silas. They're not related by blood, but Ezra and Alastair are like family to Morrigan and he even made them the godfathers of his children

Morrigan has a mother and father and several siblings, and he has a very negative relationship with all of them. He does, however, adore his nieces and nephews and does his best to be the fun uncle for them (especially since their parents are so horribly boring)

Morrigan also has six children on the way! He and Silas haven't named them yet but Morrigan is so excited to meet them all and lavish them with so much love :)

Backstory:

Okie this is gonna be a long one

Morrigan was born into a very wealthy family as the oldest of eight children. From a young age, he showed signs of magic, and very soon after that became clear that it was much more powerful than that of his siblings and the schoolmates who had magic as well.

His parents jumped on the opportunity that having a powerful, successful mage in the family would provide them. It would boost their status in the eyes of the public and especially the other families in the upper class, as the Clearcoves are "othered" by the rest for being more "monstrous" merfolk.

It was made clear to Morrigan that he was a special and gifted child, a prodigy who would surely make his family proud. He was given a similar treatment to Riddle. His schedule was very strict, and most if not all of his actions were controlled by his parents, and most of his time was spent in magical training.

The pressure to be the best and to not be a disappointment was overwhelming, and the constant control of almost everything he did simply made it worse.

Morrigan developed a short temper and quick emotional reactions to almost everything. Criticism, even constructive criticism, was perceived as an insult to his intelligence and skill (mainly because of his parents) and made him angry, and to let that anger out, he would get into violent fights and break as many rules as possible.

This behaviour continued into NRC and only became so much worse when Morrigan realised that he no longer had his parents breathing down his neck and controlling him. In a desperate attempt to gain any scrap of a feeling of control and freedom he could before it was inevitably ripped away once he left NRC, he went off the rails.

He got into many violent fights with his dorm mates and even other students, frequently pestered and bullied other students, ignored curfew, attended many wild parties, and by the time of his third year certain actions were bordering on illegal and also resulted in his fake ID being on the wall of shame in the town's local bar. He nearly got into trying certain *other* unsavoury substances, too (you can guess what they were)

His actions had essentially gone from really bad to self-destructive and his close friends Ezra and Alastair, who he'd dragged into many of his shenangians as they had similar issues to him, held a sort of intervention. It cause the friendship to break apart temporarily since Morrigan just got mad at them and wouldn't listen (he didn't hurt them, though, dw) and told them to fuck off.

They did, and it was the mix of missing them, the loneliness he felt from their absence, and fucking up real bad somewhere else that had him come around.

Morrigan eventually decided that yeah, he was going to do what he wanted with his own life when he graduated, no matter how furious it made his parents. He wasn't perfect... but he started getting noticeably better during the remainder of his time at NRC.

The rest is much simpler. He graduated, became a teacher, met Silas, became friends with him, and eventually fell in love with him, married him, they both moved to Atlantica together, had children, and... well. He was murdered. :(

Some Fun Facts/Extra Info:

☆Morrigan, Ezra, and Alastair took part of the VDC and won

☆Morrigan was an incredibly skilled magishift player and led Savanaclaw to many victories (his portrait can be found in Savanaclaw dorm :P)

☆Morrigan is an adrenaline junkie

☆Although marrying Silas led to him being either pitied or ostracised, Morrigan didn't care and was just happy Silas loved him just as much as he loved Silas

☆Morrigan recorded himself singing and talking for Silas to play for Finn and co before they were born so they would become familiar with his voice even when he was busy with work

☆Silas taught Morrigan to hunt and hunting together and fighting each other became a pastime and a way of showing their love in their own weird way

...........................................

A/N: He's got more of a personality now yippee! I hope you like my boi that I killed off

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