#pretty sure he changed my brain chemistry

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[phantom-thieves-official]

look i know I talk abt pegoryu all the time BUT there's so much to love about Ryuji outside the context of ships. Like, there's plenty of good characters in p5 but Ryuji steals the show, no contest. He's so kind and selfless. He's the first to give joker a chance. He's not even on particularly good terms with Ann and is pissed off at Kamoshida's creepy behavior on her behalf. When they enter the palace and get attacked, he tries telling to joker to run even though Ryuji himself is being attacked by the guards - he wanted joker to leave him there and was okay with putting himself in harm's way to allow joker an escape. He's not moved to take down kamoshida by his own potential expulsion, or his own anger about their history, but is moved by seeing what kamoshida is doing to other students, particularly shiho. After the kamoshida arc, he doesn't say anything about his own trauma or history with kamoshida, he's just happy that things will be better for Ann. He's the first to forgive makoto after she gets kidnapped by kaneshiro and has generally been a thorn in the phantom thieves' side for weeks. In fact he jumps in front of a moving vehicle to get a taxi to follow the people who took her. He fights with mona and gives a half-hearted apology, but all that animosity is out the window when the group finds mona and haru being harassed by haru's fiance. His entire confidant is about him trying to help the track team, which benefits him in absolutely no way, even after they turned on him for standing up to his abuser. even after the track team themselves physically assault him in an early social link rank. he wanted to get a track scholarship for his mom's sake, not his own. He puts himself in danger to get the lifeboat when shido's palace is sinking. he puts himself in danger and takes an attack from possessed cendrillon in maruki's palace. he gets angry when hearing about joker's past, but doesn't actually seem to have much anger in regards to his own - in fact, consistently through the game he gets angry and moved to defend others while not mustering that same righteous sort of anger for his own sake. Everyone else is his priority. he's the only character who has mistakes in the plot of the game that he owns up to and apologizes for - for getting mad and scaring futaba, and for being preccupied by their fame. he's a momma's boy. he's joker's best friend and right hand man, and more than anyone else he opens up to and confides in joker, to the degree that he has moments like that which occur outside of his confidant whereas nobody else really does (he calls joker through the story several times and confides in him about things like his apprehension abt the current events or how he is sorry he got mad and yelled earlier or even just that he's worried about the kamoshida plan.) the world has been so cruel to him and he still finds so much compassion and selflessness within himself. he's similar to his drunk, abusive dad, with a temper and a reputation for outbursts. but he's a twisted, funhouse mirror representation of that. his anger is justified and sparked by seeing others mistreated. his outbursts were just him standing up for himself and his whole team. and for it he got abandoned and shunned. he's a deconstruction of the people who've hurt him; he's similar to them while also standing for the exact opposite of everything they stand for. he's selfless and kind and driven to protect others even at the cost of his own safety, social standing, or well being. he makes mistakes and owns up to them, then tries to be better. he trusts joker so much. he's been hurt and abused and kicked while he was down and he still wants so badly to help others. as cruel as the world has been to him he doesn't let it embitter him or make him cynical and mean.

tldr; your honor, I love him

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[ruth-odyssey]

༺✩༻ D is for Dangerous

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

wc. 2k

summary: after pairing up with a slytherin for a potion project, you somehow find yourself unable to tear away from him  

tw. fem!reader, reader is implied to be a gryffindor and not British but I don't mention it alot, reader is kinda awkward and has a crude humor (based on my own ngl). My poor attempt at explaining how I make friends. Set in sixth year but we gon pretend everyone is 17 (it's for the plot bear with me) and voldy died so we dont worry about him :)

a/n. Hello! This is my first fic so pls be nice. Started as a theo fic but my moot @celestia-5o5 said reader had more chemistry with mattheo so I changed it. Part 2 should be up pretty soon :) btw 10 galleons is like 73.5 usd

part 2

Potions are fun, well usually it is. You see, Professor Slughorn has a way of making his classes fun and the hardest potions seem like lightwork as long as you have a functioning brain and some sense of what you’re doing. What isn't fun on the other hand are group projects. Sure pairing up with your friends is nice; you know them and you’re sure they'll do their work. But not with people you don't know. So when Slughorn announced at the end of class that the class would have to prepare amortentia in pairs of his choice, you were ready to beg your ancestors for a partner willing to do at least some of the work. But to your demise (and the whole class really) Slughorn announced the pairs would be from different houses in order to ‘improve inter house relationships’, sending a pointed look at Potter and Malfoy. A list was stuck to the board and that was that. 

Sighing as you pack your things, you make your way to the board where a couple of your classmates have crowinding up. You get on your tiptoes, trying to find your family name on the page. (l/n),  (l/n),  (l/n).... Ah it's there! And next to it… Riddle. You press your lips together, turning your head to find the Slytherin. You're not quite sure how the boy even got in Slughorn advanced potion class but you still hope he’ll do his part. At least I could get him to freeze the Ashwinder eggs since it's a pain…” As you try to spot him, you hear a loud “Who the bloody hell is (l/n)” Turning around you finally spot him, he’s sitting on a desk, next to Malfoy, somehow spotting his name a few meters away from the board. His eyes meet your unimpressed one, and he flashes you his signature smirk. You give him a once over, trying your best not to roll your eyes. He makes his way to you, stopping in front of you. 

“Looks like we’re partners huh?” he looks at you with a look you assume makes girls eat in the palm of his hand. Boys…. “I'm going to the library after class, let's meet up there to slip up the ingredient prep.” He surveys your face, nodding. You leave the classroom, hurrying up the stairs to your transfiguration class.

—————————————

“Ok we’re gonna need to ask Slughorn to give us some pearl dust, from his personal collection, can you take care of that?” You glance up from your notebook to a seemingly uninterested Mattheo. “Are you even listening?” he glances up “Yeah you’re asking me to fetch the pearl dust.” Ok well maybe the project wouldn’t be so bad. Mattheo straightened up, resting his elbow on the table, joining his hands together. “So tell me, how come I've never heard of you before?” You close your notebook, leaning on your chair, “we never talked before today.” He smirks “Actually I dont think I’ve ever seen you talk to anyone before? Do you even have friends?” You raise an eyebrow, unsure why he seems so interested. “I do have friends…” you cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. He raised his hands in defeat “hey can't blame me for being curious”. 

Fortunately for you, Mattheo, while being mostly clueless about potion, was willing to both help and learn, taking some task of the amortentia making process upon himself. The month quickly passed, and the potion turned out to be a success. Slughorn was pleasantly surprised by your grade, especially when you confirmed that Matheo did part of it. Which brings you to your current predicament; Matheo and you, standing in front of Slughorn’s desk, waiting for the last of your classmates to leave. “Miss.(l/n), I’d like for you to tutor Mr. Riddle for a few months.” Your eyes widen, taken aback by the professor’s request. “Uhm, professor, may I ask why me?” Slughorn smiles, gathering some paper on his desk, which you assume is for his next class. “I know you are a talented student, Miss.(l/n), and you and Mr. Riddle seems to be quite the team. The potion’s quality was excellent and if what you told me about Mr. Riddle's contribution to it is indeed true… you might be able to help him raise his grades.” He gestures towards Mattheo, continuing “Mr. Riddle here is a talented quidditch player and while I know he doesn't play in your house’s team,  it would truly be a shame if he couldn't play the upcoming seasons because of his grades…” You glance at Mattheo, who sends you a sheepish look. “I.. I'll do it” Mattheo’s eyes widen “really? You will?” you nod, and Slughorn clasp his hands together bleaming. “Excellent, truly admirable Miss.(l/n), it seems you two are the only ones who truly grasped the point of this project!” Seemingly happy with himself, the professor continues talking to himself. You and Mattheo share a look, and decide it might be best to leave. The walk back to the Great Hall is quiet. As you take the stairs to get to transfiguration class he stops you. “Hey I just wanted to say thank you for accepting to tutor me even though” he gestures between the two of you “it's nice I appreciated it.” He smiles and you think Slytherins can't all be bad. You shake your head “no problem, don't mention it… also, the whole Gryffindor and Slytherin should be sworn enemies thing… it's not really my thing so I don't mind… but just because I'm tutoring you doesn't mean I'll cheer for you out there.” you can help but smile. He seems surprised but he simply returns your smile and nods, leaving for his next class. 

—————————————

In the first few days you spend tutoring Mattheo you learn a few things. First, all Slytherins aren't stuck ups who believe in blood purity rank, Mattheo and his older brother Tom – and their half-blood status — proved that. Secondly, if there was one thing Mattheo did know, it was quidditch. He’d started playing in second year as a chaser, and he's good, really good. And Thirdly, he had a knack to make you feel at ease, going as far as making your tutoring lessons enjoyable. Well maybe a little too much…..

Leaning back on his chair, Mattheo looks at you.“You know, you aren’t as serious as I originally thought.” You look up from your notebook. “What do you mean?” He smiles as he speaks. “When I first saw you, I assumed you were super serious and reserved.” You think for a moment, answering him with a shrug. “I guess, I’m pretty introverted, I usually make friends when extroverted people adopt me.” Mattheo burst out laughing, earning a disapproving look from Mrs. Pince – the librarian. You shush him, glaring. “Be quiet!! We’re gonna get kicked out because you’re too loud.” Mattheo lowers his voice, trying to keep his laugh to a minimum. “I'm sorry, it's just that I pictured an abandoned kitten in a box when you said that.” You look at him bewildered. “It's a metaphor????” Mattheo takes a deep breath, trying to calm down his laughter. “I know it’s a metaphor but it's the funniest one I’ve ever heard.” You start laughing silently. “Why are you people like this??” Mattheo pretends to be offended by the friendly jab. “How dare you bring my country into this?!” You facepalm, taking a deep breath. “Mattheo this has nothing to do with England,  you’re the most unserious person I’ve ever met, you would laugh at a piece of toast falling.” Mattheo raises his voice, trying to defend himself, a smile tugging his lips. “I do NOT find humor in a piece of toast falling!” He pauses for a moment, his smiles widening further. “Ok maybe I do, but that's beside the point!” The b0th of you continue cracking j0kes until Mrs. Pince has to – quite literally – ask you to leave. Matthew bites back his laugh, sending an apologetic look at Mrs. Pince. “Of course, we were just leaving.” Packing your bags, you leave the library in a hurry.

“I can't believe it, we actually got kicked out of the library” Mattheo’s eyes find yours, an incredulous look on his face, as if the idea of being kicked out of a library – for pretty much disturbing everyone – was inconceivable. You put a hand over your chest, struggling to breathe. “Wait, I literally can't breathe right now.” Mattheo continues laughing, a smile on his face. “We got kicked out of the library….” His face fall suddenly realising what happened “MERLIN’S BEARD WE GOT KICKED OUT OF THE FUCKING LIBRARY!!” “MATTHEO QUIET DOWN!!!” He covers his mouth, realizing how loud he just was. He turns to you whispering. “If they tell Slughorn I’m totally getting detention,” You shake your head, “It's fine we were just a bit loud, they won't give you detention for that… right?” Mattheo passes a hand through his hair, looking around the hallway. “Who knows, maybe Dumbeldore will decide to give me detention AND make us pay for a library pass..” He lowers his voice, seeing some very confused Ravenclaws nearby, staring skeptically. 

You sign “Man I'm too broke for library pass….” Mattheo dramatically puts a hand over his heart, pretending to be heartbroken. “You can't afford the 10 galleons?? Me neither.” You turn your head towards him. “Charging us 10 galleons for a library pass is crazy” Mattheo shrugs, acting as if 10 galleons is pocket change. “Well if it's the price to pay to enter the forbidden lands of the library...” He glanced at you, cracking a smile. Doubling up with laughter, you shake your head as you start walking “shut up Riddle.” Mattheo laughs as well, catching up to you. “I mean, it was kinda your fault we got kicked out.” “ME??? I did nothing! YOU are the trouble maker mister!” Mattheo crosses his arm, offended. “Why am I the one being pinned as a troublemaker?! YOU were the one that kept laughing!” He rolls his eyes playfully, giving you a slight shove. “Dang and you also hit women huh?” Mattheo looks at you horrified, almost tripping on air. “I do NOT hit women. And even if I did, THAT wasn't even a hit! It was a shove, a light one at that.”

—————————————

As it turns out, you were indeed right; Slytherins – despite their house’s history – are not all wicked people destined to use black magic. Mattheo, judging you were close enough, decided to introduce you to his group and friend. Draco, Blaise, Lorenzo, Theodore and Pansy. Blaise, despite his cold facade, quickly became a brotherly figure, always saving you seats, and making sure no one was giving you trouble. Lorenzo, while being a slytherin, was a ray of sunshine, always lifting the mood, and eager for gossip. Speaking of gossip, the amount of information Pansy had told you over the few weeks you’ve known her was appalling. The sheer amount of detail was enough that you knew she definitely had to have inside sources in every house. Theodore on the other hand was nothing short but quiet and sleepy. The boy – while being described as an excellent student by his teachers – had a habit of falling asleep pretty much everywhere. You once found him sleeping, a lit cigarette in his mouth. Mattheo assured you it was a common occurrence and that the boy was indeed all right. 

As for Draco, even the ‘wicked’ prince of Slytherin – or blond ferret depending who you’re asking – isn't as wicked as he is said to be. Annoying and pretentious? Yes. But also extremely fun to annoy. “I’ll let you know that the Malfoys are part of the Sacred 28!” He says, clearly proud of his pure-blood heritage. You exchange a look with Blaise, who starts laughing as if he knew exactly what you were itching to say. You look back at Draco, cracking a smile “You guys must really like to keep it in the family, huh?” It takes him a few seconds to realize the innuendo, while the whole group bursts out laughing. He looks baffled, and for a few seconds you think he just might try to hex you. “I- How dare you. We do not practice incest!” He crosses his arms over his chest, sulking – yes the famous prince of Slytherin is sulking – “Oh come on Malfoy don't be a baby I only was joking.” Your apology drowning in the sound of laughter. 

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆✮theodore nott✮⋆

part 2 /part 4

theo’s had a hard childhood, his mother sadly died and all he has left his father. his fucked up father. there’s no wonder as to why theo took up smoking, but this doesn’t change the fact that he’s completely addicted. every inhale and exhale takes him further away from the walls of the castle, just what he wants. just what he needs. despite his mother leaving him from a young age, theo continues his and his mother’s shared passion for learning, doesn’t necessarily mean he’s at the top of his classes but he’s doing pretty good if he says so himself. theo was also taught how to play the piano but avoids doing so because he thinks it reminds him of his mother too much. but if you wake up in the middle of the night, you might faintly hear a sweet sweet melody being played from the common room.. all the neglect from his father’s end corrupted his innocence growing up, and as a child Theo often spent his time in solitude. however he didn’t let this affect his relationships in his teenhood, and still chose to foster relationships- but only as far as friendships. Theo has never been in a relationship and the ‘sleeping around’ thing his friends so often did, didn’t seem so appealing to him. that is, until he saw you. he was sure you were new but when you first talked and told him you’ve been here since first year, let’s just say it wasn’t one of his proudest moments. from that moment he knew exactly what he was going to do. it took a while, his grovelling weirded you out at first- did he like you? was he trying to do this as a joke? eventually you’d realised it was in fact not a joke, and theodre nott actually did like you, yes. however did you know what to do in response? absolutely not, so of course you turn to everyone’s go-to flirting method: feigned dislike. it worked wonders while also creating a tense but playful rivalry between you and theo. did this confuse theo at first? slightly, yes. but was he also turned on by it? absofuckinglutely. in case it isn’t obvious, things did eventually get heated… everything about you had him going crazy- your smile, your eyes, your laugh, your comebacks, your scent, your hands, YOUR HANDS. gosh he goes absolutely feral over your hands (mainly because he imagines he’ll be putting a ring on it one day, but asides from that..) the way that they fit so perfectly into his alters his brain chemistry or something because trust me this man will be holding onto it and fidgeting around with it EVERY. SECOND. OF. THE. DAY. while everyone thinks he’s a complicated character, he’s actually not. there’s a limited amount of ways to get to his heart- food, hugs and hickeys. food: you know it, every theo enthusiast has heard this about a million times, all the more reason to believe it to be true!! he will literally eat his whole weight and won’t think anything of it, and will STILL be skinny af. hugs: this man needs his hugs just to relax and have a lil breather. a back hug, a side hug, a bear hug, straddle hug, you name it he will hold onto you like a koala! hickeys: alright, enough of our soft teddy, Mr Nott knows his way around your neck, shoulders, chest, EVERYWHWRE. there’s nothing sweet about this, he wants everyone to know who makes you a hot moaning mess every night.

#hmm should I do a part two??🤔🤔#y’all know I’ll do anything for my theo bby

[mechaknight-98]

Instinctive insight (NSFW) FT Chaehyun

Authors note: I am unsure of a preface so here goes. Chaehyun buys a zoo where the narrator (you) work and hijnks ensue

PartII

Sexual chemistry is a weird thing. First, you're minding your business as a zookeeper when the new owner comes in and next thing you know you have her folded like a pretzel calling you daddy as she takes a hot load into her pussy then the next thing you know you're helping said new boss run the zoo better like the two of you didn't just fuck each other brains out. Oh shit… I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning

As I worked on next week’s schedule at the zoo, my coworker and friend, Zahir, strolled in with an air of excitement.

“Hey, Dino. Heard about the new boss?” he asked, brimming with curiosity.

“Yeah, I heard she's the new owner, taking over from Old McDonald,” I replied, my tone neutral.

“E I E I Oh,” Zahir quipped, a familiar inside joke that never failed to elicit a chuckle.

Curiosity piqued, I inquired, “What's the new boss like?”

“She's a Korean girl, a former idol,” Zahir revealed.

“Really? That's unexpected,” I remarked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Yeah, quite the change. She's due to arrive in an hour or two. You're probably the best bet to understand her. Could you stay to interpret?” Zahir requested, his eyes hopeful.

“Hmm, I'm not sure. I was planning to spend time with Tony today. Haven't had the chance since the promotion,” I explained, feeling torn.

“Fair enough. But what about Alucard?” Zahir countered.

“Alucard's always my priority at the start of each shift, given his popularity,” I assured him.

“True, he's practically your trademark here. By the way, did you get taller?” Zahir teased, noticing a change.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't,” I replied cryptically, leaving the question unanswered.

After successfully arranging for Zahir to cover Marie’s shift next Thursday, I completed the schedule. With that task done, I made my way to Tony’s enclosure, treading cautiously as always.

“Hey buddy, sorry I haven't been around. How are you?” I greeted him, though his silence conveyed more than words ever could.

His gaze, concealed beneath armored scales, seemed to communicate, “You always make sure to take care of Alucard.”

“Well, he may be popular, but I'm here now, aren't I?” I replied, preparing his food.

His head tilted inquisitively, silently questioning my sincerity.

“Yeah, really,” I affirmed.

Now, you might be wondering why I'm conversing with a Magnamalo. It all goes back to my early days at Old McDonald's Zoo. Each hire was entrusted with caring for an egg and a baby animal. I was given Tony, and over the years, we formed an unbreakable bond.

Currently, Tony is undergoing his transformation into a scorned Magnamalo in preparation for finding a mate. This meant heightened aggression and physical changes.

After spending a couple of hours with Tony, I sat on a nearby rock, feeling a sense of tranquility despite his imposing presence. As I finished up and secured the enclosure, a voice startled me.

“So, you're the illustrious Dinovaldo,” the voice said, catching me off guard. I turned to find a young Korean woman standing before me, likely the new boss. Surprisingly young, perhaps even younger than me, she exuded confidence beyond her years. Her round face framed by soft brown eyes and shoulder-length hair added to her allure.

Normally, I'm a sucker for a pretty face, but inexplicably, a surge of unfamiliar emotions washed over me, leading me to behave rudely. “I didn't expect you to be dressed so... casually,” I retorted, though her attire was perfectly appropriate.

She smirked, seemingly relishing the tension, and took a step closer. “For someone known for thoughtfulness and consideration, you're quite the jerk,” she remarked, her voice tinged with amusement.

I matched her proximity, a malicious smile playing on my lips as I felt a strange tension building between us. “Maybe if you weren't such an eyesore, it wouldn't be an issue,” I snapped, though secretly acknowledging her undeniable attractiveness.

“Well, what are you going to do about it, Daddy?” she challenged, our closeness heightening the tension until we both yielded to other, more primal feelings, breaking the touch barrier simultaneously. We found each other in a fiery kiss that consumed us both. My hands found themselves wrapped around her midriff and as my fingers sank into her soft flesh she moaned into the kiss. We broke it and all of the animosity we shared mutated into a virulent lust and desire. Wordlessly we go to a nearby employee shack used for helping the animals give birth and continue pursuing our bodies’ desires. I kiss her again and she melts into the kiss. I run my hands through her hair. The softness of her midriff pushes me to continue my exploration of her body. I slid my arms down to her ass, I grab her right leg and lift it as she wraps it around my waist

“How forward. I love it Daddy!” the woman says. I smile at her. Her eyes scream encouragement for me to continue so I do. I unbuckle my pants and pull my erect dick out.

“You are so soft I'm going to call you Marshmallow,” I say as I fiddle with her skirt before moving her panties to the side and plunging my sex into hers.

“Oh god yes Daddy,” Marshmallow says Euphoric. I was going to move until she said.

“No, give me a second to adjust,” Marshmallow says panting. While waiting I go back into kissing her which Marshmallow greedily accepts. She smells like a wildfire and it drives me wild. When the need for oxygen overrides our need to breed we break the kiss again. “Okay go,” Marshmallow says and I take off. I begin to pull out but her vagina sucks me in further. It's perfectly accommodating and welcoming. As barely get halfway out Marshmallow screams

“Ram it back in Daddy!” being the good daddy I was. I give her what she wants. She moans as her pussy sucks me in almost vacuum tight. Her nails dig into my neck as I thrust and a puddle of our combined juices lay beneath us as we continue. I look into her eyes and we see each other in a new light.

I cup her sizable bust as I whisper into her ear, “Do you want to cum?” Marshmallow nods

“Are you close?” I ask and am answered with another nod. I pick up the pace and begin to play with her clit. Marshmallow moans I feel her other leg wrap around me I smile into another kiss as the heat between us intensifies.

“Does daddy like my pussy?” Marshmallow said as her voice hitched

“Yes, I love the way it sucks me in as it never wants me to leave,” I say to a euphoric Marshmallow

“Well, it's true I don't want you to leave my pussy. I could duck this perfect cock all day and night.” Marshmallow moaned.

“God you're so hot,” I say to her breathless. “This soft body is perfect,” I say.

Marshmallow’s walls tighten and I realize she likes the body appreciation. So I try something to push her over the edge. I continue my thrusts in and out of Marshmallow as I begin praising her body like crazy.

“I love this tummy it's so soft and pillow. I just want to hug you and keep you close forever. These tits divine the perfect size to grope and squeeze.” I moan into her ear. I hear Marshmallow scream before she reaches her release. Her pussy becomes unbearable tight and forces mine

“Cum with me. Cum in me.” Marshmallow moans. Her words send me fully over the edge and I fall into the abyss with her. I shoot string after string of hot semen into her fertile pussy and she seemingly milks me for more and more as her orgasm intensifies. As our gazes lock, a strange sensation envelops me, stirring within like a tempest. We hold each other's stare, the air crackling with an inexplicable intensity. A wave of possessiveness washes over me, consuming my senses, and I can sense the same emotion reflected in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment. We are bonded and no one else would satisfy us.

After our copulation, We stand there, our intense gaze softened by the passage of time, yet the undercurrent of possessiveness only seems to strengthen. Eventually, we settle into new seats, and Marshmallow finds her way onto my lap.

“So, Marshmallow, huh?” she remarks playfully.

“Yeah, what about it?” I respond with equal playfulness.

“I like it, but my name is Chaehyun,” she reveals.

“Noted. I'll make an effort to use your real name in public,” I promise.

“Why hide your affection behind a nickname?” she teases.

“Not ashamed, just protecting our little secret,” I assure her, my fingers gently tracing through her hair.

“It's too late for secrecy now, Daddy,” she teases back.

“So, does this mean we're officially together?” I ask a hint of confusion in my tone.

“I think we are past that. I mean you did just cum what feels like a gallon in me.” Marshmallow teases

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I have no idea what came over me.” I apologize

“You're fine. If I didn't want it, I would've stopped you. Besides, it was reassuring because I felt a surge of emotions when meeting you too,” Marshmallow says, her tone adorable.

“Okay. So, what's next? Because I'm technically off the clock. Should we grab lunch?” I inquired, my mind swirling with conflicting feelings.

Marshmallow beams. “I'd love to,” she replies gratefully. I nod, but then the reality of the situation hits me.

I begin to scramble around the room. “Wait, let me tidy up first,” I insist, hastily organizing everything and dusting Marshmallow off. I can sense her smile as she watches me work. Once finished, I turn to her.

“Why does it look better than when we came in?” Marshmallow remarks with a smile, perching herself on a table, her feet dangling adorably.

“I know how it's supposed to look, and I know how to make it that way, no matter what,” I explain. Marshmallow nods before gracefully sliding off the table with my assistance.

“What a gentleman,” she teases.

“Well, I try,” I respond, eliciting another smile from Marshmallow.

We slip out of the zoo unnoticed and head to a nearby steakhouse. We get seated and order our drinks. Marshmallow’s hand slips into mine and fits perfectly as we continue to feel each other out.

“So, I heard you raised the Zoo’s only male Magnamalo from birth,” Marshmallow brings up as we settle in our seats and receive our drinks. I nod.

“Yeah, Tony and I have been together since I was 16 when Old McDonald hired me.”

“So, you've been at the zoo for 10 years,” Marshmallow concludes, smiling warmly at me. Our drinks arrive, and Marshmallow's face lights up even more after taking her first sip, mirroring my own enjoyment. As she sets her drink down, her expression shifts to one of intense focus.

“You know, Old McDonald…” Marshmallow begins.

“E I E I Oh,” I interject, prompting a chuckle from Marshmallow.

“What was that?” Marshmallow asks, amusement evident in her tone.

“Just a reflex from an old inside joke,” I reply, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Marshmallow squeezes my hand, her touch radiating tenderness and care, melting away my defenses. I can't help but smile goofily in response.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Marshmallow teases, her eyes sparkling with affection. I playfully kiss her cheek, earning a happy smile in return. “The previous zoo owner relied on you for almost everything. Can I?” she continues, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Sure, but first, I have some requests,” I respond.

“Oh, and what might those be?” Marshmallow inquires.

“Well, I know you're not just a former K-pop idol but also a renowned megafauna researcher with an impressive list of achievements. While I may not have the same level of expertise, I've raised or helped raise almost all the animals in the zoo, especially our big-ticket boy, Alucard.”

“Another one of your naming conventions?” Marshmallow teases with a smirk. I nod before continuing.

“I need you to trust my expertise with them, and please refrain from belittling me or flaunting your credentials. Given how our bodies reacted today, I'm not sure what might happen if things become confrontational. I'm open to constructive discussion, but if it turns into a challenge, I'll stand my ground firmly,” I explain, adopting a serious tone to convey the gravity of my request.

Marshmallow's smile widens. “You understand!” she exclaims excitedly, leaving me momentarily puzzled.

“Understand what?” I inquire.

[luveline]

hi sweetie !!! I know you get a billion requests but if u have time maybe an eddie fluff with the reader trying to get out of a postpartum depression slump and hes taking care of her :3 as always no pressure ily!

hi lovely ily, ty for requesting ♡ 1.2k

cw reader has postpartum depression

"Aw, sweetheart," Eddie mumbles. 

You hear it through your tired haze, rubbing sleep from your eyes as your turn toward him and his shuffling. He's unexpectedly on the bedroom floor, the baby laid out on a changing matt. Your lips quirk into a smile as you watch him button a fresh baby grow closed around your son's tiny tummy. 

"You're so well behaved," Eddie continues, still mumbling, hand careful as it slides behind the baby's head. "There we go. Fresh as a daisy." 

You clear your throat and stretch against a cruel knot hiding between shoulder blades. "You okay?" you ask. 

Eddie looks at you like you've just asked him to marry you, love lining every feature. "I'm okay, are you okay? You were frowning in your sleep. Bad dreams?" 

"I can't remember." You try not to lose your small smile as you hold out your hands for the baby. 

You love your baby. That's not up for debate. But whenever you hold him, you feel like you should be happier. That turns to guilt, self-loathing —this has all been so hard. You knew it would be, but it doesn't matter how prepared you are. This is brain chemistry you can't fight. 

Eddie sits on the side of the bed and passes the baby to you carefully. You're relieved to find you missed him, tucking him with love against your chest. "Hi, beautiful. Hi." 

He's still so small, shiny with newness, his lips parted to show the pink of his tongue. You laugh under your breath, brushing the side of your hand along his cheek. 

"Did you, um… did you put the ointment on his rash?" you ask, leaning down to kiss the baby's forehead. "On his tummy?" 

"Yeah, I did." 

You nod and kiss the baby's head again quickly. "Okay, perfect. Will you take him back? Just so I can get up?" 

You have to start the day to avoid falling hard into the slump. Eddie takes him with no qualms. You worry he's held more by his father than you, and there's nothing wrong with that, but he's your baby, you just spent nine months baking him, nine whole months waiting for these moments. 

Eddie hugs the baby to his chest and pulls the sheets over both of them. He looks better kept than you even though he's been picking up your slack without complaint, hair clean and out of his face, fresh clothes to match the baby, a black Iron Maiden t-shirt unmarred by spit up and a pair of pyjamas pants you're pretty sure were yours once upon a time. They don't fit him right and he clearly doesn't care. He's good like that; he's obsessed with being close to you. 

Your depression postpartum has wedged him away. Not his fault, not yours, and not fair. You're gonna have to try as hard as you can to beat it, and hope against hope that it's enough. 

"I set some clothes out for you," Eddie says gently, stroking the baby's hair. "And a towel if you want to shower, but you don't need to. You should be okay until tonight." 

"You didn't have to," you say. Your throat feels peculiarly tight. 

"Yeah, I did. I know it's overwhelming in the morning for you. I thought the clothes would be one less thing." 

You nod hurriedly and turn away from him to change. You can feel his gaze as you step out of your pyjamas and into new sweatpants, the weight of his concern palpable. It's easier to talk about things when you aren't looking at them both, so you say, "I'm sorry you're doing all of this." 

"That's okay, it's not something you need to be sorry for." 

"No, because it's not fair. You're looking after two people." 

"That's what I signed up for. It's literally my job." You seize at the sound of the baby gurgling and whimpering, but Eddie pats his back, and the grizzling fades. "Sweetheart… would you come over here? Let me tell you to your face." 

That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, but you pull on the clean shirt Eddie's left on the dresser for you and sit with him as he asked. Only when he smiles at your chest do you realise it's the stupid gimmick shirt he got for you on your first anniversary. My boyfriend loves me more than yours does, it reads, big black font with a red heart behind boyfriend. 

Eddie holds out his hand, squeezing your fingers together slowly, as though he's collected them in his palm. His thumb rubs a dedicated line over your knuckles; you're surprised your skin doesn't show evidence of his touch, he strokes this path so often. 

"I'm not sorry that I've been taking care of you since he was born, and you shouldn't be either." He says it straight and fast, no hesitation, and no room for argument. "Understand? This isn't about me. This is about how you feel." 

"Don't be all serious with me," you plead in a murmur, eyes at his collar. 

"If you don't want me to be serious then I won't be. Regular viewing henceforth. But don't forget what I just said. Promise?" 

"Yeah, promise." You reach out to twist the baby's hair around your fingertip, smiling when he shivers, tickled by your touch. He's a beautiful kid. Your partner stamped him well. All your awful feelings aren't anything to do with him, though his birth was undoubtedly the tipping point. He hasn't done anything wrong, this fog of melancholy hangs around no matter how beautiful he is, and you can't help hating yourself for the way you feel. "He's perfect," you whisper, eyes aching with the want to cry. 

"You did a great job," Eddie says agreeably, pushing his fingers between yours to intertwine your hands. 

"Do you think he knows I really do love him?" You can barely hear yourself. It's a miracle that Eddie can respond. 

"Undeniably. Sweetheart, I know there have been days where you didn't hold him, and that's not good for either of you, I can't lie to you and tell you it doesn't affect him, but it's not your fault. It just isn't. You're gonna keep trying and I'm gonna keep making sure you can, and things will get better. I swear to you." 

You feel as though you'd happily fall into a pit, but with Eddie sworn to take care of you, and the world's prettiest baby in his arms, you force yourself to sit beside him in bed. It's easy to soak in the heat of him as he wraps and arm around you, and easier to take the baby from his arms when the crying begins. 

"Don't feel guilty, but he misses you," Eddie says, covering your hand where it holds the baby's back. "He's happy to see you, look." 

The baby looks like a baby. It's hard to say that he's smiling, but there is something there. Love in his little eyes. You manage to smile for real this time, toying with his tiny hand, swiftly on your way to joyous as he wraps his fingers around your index. 

"You're doing so well," Eddie praises, his hair brushing your ear as he ducks in to kiss your cheek. 

"I think I'm feeling a bit better." 

"Good. One step closer to taking over the world." 

Eddie climbs out of bed with a mission to gather your meds and a quick breakfast. You stay in bed with the baby, holding him. Eddie's made it so that it's the only thing you have to do. 

[adnauseum11]

Target Lock (John Price x Reader)

Insomnia is a real bitch, except when it is mildly productive.

1.2k words

Kissing only - reader discretion advised regardless

Swearing

Feedback welcome

I have lost control of my life in a very real way and this is helping somehow, I don't know how but it is. Let's not examine that too closely, shall we?

About a month ago you started hallucinating, and you haven’t stopped yet. Your oldest friend, John, turned up to take you on a date you hadn’t realized you had agreed to. When he kissed you after returning you home that night it was like time slowed and a fever dream had taken up residence in your brain. Something in your body chemistry had shifted and it hadn’t returned to normal yet. You were starting to worry it never would.

You can’t help but notice little things about him now that you had previously been immune to. The largeness of his well-muscled body and how close he stands to you. The way his sleeves pull taut over his forearms when talking animatedly. The way his spicy cologne seems to pair with his cigars like a fine wine. Even the way his jeans stretch over his wide thighs when he sprawls on your couch, waiting for you to get ready. You’re pretty sure you are losing your mind, because this is John. John. The same man that used your purse as a sick bag in the back of a taxi one memorable night out.

You are so used to his big presence taking up space in your life that thinking of him in this new light seems vaguely wrong. You can’t seem to stop yourself though, and say ‘yes’, each time he asks you out afterwards. You’ve gone from overly comfortable with him to flighty and nervous when he’s around. You’re not convinced you like the change. 

He's on his way tonight to help put up plastic over the drafty windows at your new rental. It’s so dangerously domestic. You spend so long debating about whether or not you should blow out your collection of tealights (too inadvertently romantic?) that you run out of time and end up having to leave them flickering on the mantel. You answer the door with an overly cheerful hello, and John leans down to press a gentle kiss into your flushed cheek. 

“You alright, love?” He asks, his familiar and steady demeanour bracing your nerves already. Your affectionate smile is genuine, watching as he locks the door behind him and humming an affirmation for him. He follows you to the kitchen where you’ve laid out your tools – such as they are. Hairdryer? check. Double sided tape? Check. Plastic film? Check. 

John’s shrugging out of his lambskin jacket, hanging it off the back of a chair in a habitual motion as you get the kettle going. You can feel the weight of his gaze and inexorably find yourself turning to meet it. He looks uncharacteristically unsure of himself in the middle of your small kitchen.  

“What’s wrong?” The words have escaped before you can think. He shakes his head slowly, his eyes staying on your face, locked on like a predator. There’s something in his expression you aren’t familiar with, can’t quite read. His hands find his pockets, elbows pressed in against his sides, making himself seem smaller. You frown at his unusual behaviour, a different kind of anxiety overtaking you now. 

“You’re freaking me out.” You warn, your voice warbling as your sentence ends. 

“Did I fuck this up?” He blurts out, blue eyes widening as if he’s surprised himself with his outburst as well as you. 

“Fuck what up?” You ask for unnecessary clarification.

He gestures between you with his thumb, the rest of his body tense and waiting to hear your verdict.

“…No.”

“Are you sure? Cause it seems –“ He cuts himself off.

“Seems like what?” 

“Seems like you’re running scared. Not like yourself, love.”

“John.” You exhale in a breath. You’re startled by his incisive comment, cut to the quick with no retort at the ready.

“Don’t say my name like that if you’re just going to call this off.” His voice lowers an octave and your stomach swoops in response.

“…I’m not calling anything off, I just…” You shouldn’t be surprised John couldn’t watch you struggle without comment. Or pressing the issue. A man of action, through and through. 

“You what? Talk to me.” His voice is soft, concerned.

“What if we do fuck this up? Is it worth it? To throw away over two decades of friendship?”

Something passes over his face and he’s closing the distance between you before you can process that he’s moving. His tone is urgent, like he needs to you understand this, and understand it now.

“You can’t fuck this up. There’s nothing you could do that would make me stop caring about you. You don’t know that by now?”

His big hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks lightly. The nearness of his big body makes your own respond in ways that you haven’t allowed yourself to process.

“John.” You say his name helplessly, unsure what to do with this information he’s placing in your hands. He’s unbalanced the dynamic between you. Your instinct is to duck and hide, to deflect to something more appropriate for old friends, a joke or insult, but that won’t help you now. You know your eyes must be wide with the fear clawing its way through your chest. He’s moving to step back, to let go of your face before you can muster anything else to say.  

“It’s alright, if you don’t – “ 

You know he’s about to backpedal and your heart feels like someone has taken a hold of it and is squeezing for all their worth. 

“No.” You manage you squeak out, your voice not altogether steady. 

You cut him off with such eloquence that it stops him in his tracks. You’re reaching for his hands, nuzzling back into the space between them before you can think it through. Instead, letting the soft, small animal of your body timidly search out what it wants. 

“No?” He breathes, stroking his thumbs over your cheeks again, like he’s scared to jostle you for fear of something shattering.

“Whatever you were about to say… don’t.”

His familiar chuckle is comforting, and then the slightest pressure from his fingertips is angling your face up to his. You oblige his unspoken request, his nearness making your skin prickle and your thoughts scatter.  

“Alright, love.” He breathes again and your eyes meet his. This time you can read the want on his face, plain as day. It makes your stomach quiver in anticipation. John’s intense blue eyes are searching your face for something. Whatever it is he must find it, because he’s lowering his mouth to yours in the next heartbeat. 

The silken heat of his lips pull at your own until you open for him, pliant now where before you had been stiff and recalcitrant. The tip of his tongue finding yours sends sparks scattering behind your closed eyelids, sensation overtaking self-consciousness. Your hands take on a mind of their own, sliding up his solid chest to press in to the short strands of his hair and clutch at the back of his shirt, a subconscious effort to ground yourself. 

One big hand cups the back of your head, subtly steering your movements as he plunders your mouth. The other settles on your hip, strong fingers pressing into your soft flesh. A soft whine escapes before you can corral your reaction and you can feel the response thrum through John’s body. You don’t realize you’re moving until you feel your back press up against the cool door of your fridge. The scattered magnets dig into your back as you slowly give in to his onslaught, willingly pinned in place by his big body. The windows can wait a while longer, you absently decide.

[farfromstrange]

Just Let Me Love You | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (f!Reader heavily implied)

Summary: You're struggling with your body image and Matt notices

Warnings: Angst, TW: allusions to an ED, self-deprecating talk (Reader has internalized fatphobia toward herself), not proof red (I was too emotional for that)

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: So, my body is changing and I hate it. As someone who was the Fat Funny Friend growing up, I got inspired by the song. Now I wasn't sure if to tag for a plus-sized reader because when I wrote this, I had myself in mind, and I'm not even sure what "category" I fall into, so this is pretty universal and I think any of you who are struggling with body dysmorphia might appreciate this. Heed the warnings before proceeding and don't forget to eat if you haven't already! (Also, I used my tag list to tag for this, but don't read it if this triggers you, please!)

Our brains are wired to function in a certain way. But not every brain is balanced in chemistry. 

For the longest time, she thought there was something seriously wrong with her. She never fit in anywhere, so she tried to make herself fit. Change her attitude, change her behavior, change her hobbies, and change the way she looks. She did it so many times, she lost count. 

She relied on humor, telling funny little anecdotes to make whatever friend group she was a part of at the time laugh at her. But that was all she could do. Make them laugh. She lit up the mood, lit up the room, but she seemingly never lit up anyone’s heart the way her friends did. 

They talked about their relationships, talked about their families and friends, and she played along. She listened. When she talked about her likes, they pretended to care, but within minutes, they lost interest. She thought it just wasn’t that important. Not as important as how beautiful they all were, anyway. And they were striking, she thought. That’s why everyone always chose them and never approached her. But she swallowed it to at least be a part of something. 

She always helped everyone but herself. She was there when no one else was, but even when she was a part of something, she never fully fit in. There was an impossible standard looming over her head, and she couldn’t possibly reach it. 

Don’t be too loud. Don’t be too silly. Don’t say no. Don’t talk about your problems, only listen to everyone else’s. Don’t believe that he wants you because he is too good for you, and all he wants is your best friend who is ten times prettier than you. And don’t believe that personality and humor will get you anywhere; you will end up miserably alone the same way people who look like you always will. 

The same voice, over and over again. Word turning into knives. It was exhausting to fight against the demons within her because they just sounded so damn convincing. 

When she met him, the man who stole her heart, she never thought he would ask her out. When he did, she was dumbfounded. In every possible situation, he found himself assuring her that he wouldn’t drop her for the pretty blonde in the office, or his psychotic ex-girlfriend who just happened to have the most beautiful body known to man. To her, at least. Everyone around him was just so beautiful, and he was even more so–he was the prettiest specimen in the world, and everyone desired him. Of course, she grew insecure. She couldn’t help it. It was a reflex.

She fell in love with a man who finally saw her for who she was and he loved her despite—no, he loved her regardless. For who she was. He took her, accepted her, and began seeing her as the most beautiful person in the world. For the first time, she felt appreciated, loved, and not so miserably alone. 

Yet, the fear continued to linger. The fear that one day, he would notice that perhaps, a woman of average looks wouldn’t be enough for him anymore. That she was, indeed, as unconventionally unattractive as everyone said she was from the first day she actually understood what was being said to her. She was just a child then. 

The funny friend. The awkward friend. The weird one. The girl without real friends. The girl with the silly clothes, the silly smile, the slightly crooked teeth, the belly pouch… The girl who lost weight, the girl who gained weight, and the girl who shouldn’t be so proud of herself because she had nothing to be proud of. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked her, yanking her out of the downward spiral that only continued to get worse over time. “Did you have anything to eat yet?”

He stood in the kitchen, the sleeves of his dress shirt bunched around his elbow. It was hot outside, too hot for her liking, and even his clothes were slightly stained with sweat. 

She looked up from the couch, still wrapped up in a blanket despite the high temperatures, a book resting on her thighs. He met her eyes with a smile. 

“I noticed your leftovers are still in the fridge. Could smell them,” he clarified. “I was just wondering whether that was on purpose or not.”

Worrying fit it better, she thought to herself. He always worried too much. 

She closed her book. “I might’ve forgotten,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “You forgot?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it never reached his eyes. 

“Yeah. I probably got too caught up reading or something. It’s no big deal. I’ll eat later. Or drink another latte.”

He hummed. “You know, iced coffee is not considered a healthy diet. Your body needs fuel.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” she raised her voice, “I’m okay!”

“You don’t look okay,” he stated as a matter of fact. 

“And how would you know?”

“I just do.”

He approached, his muscles straining against his shirt. It wasn’t fair, how good he looked. How well he carried himself. And he still had the audacity to look at her and tell her she had much more going for herself than just her humor. That she was beautiful. Pretty enough. 

“Hey,” Matt lowered himself on the couch beside her, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

“I forgot to eat, I told you,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“Not if you did it on purpose.”

The book landed on the coffee table and she got up, pacing the small space of their shared apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. He could hear her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage, the pent-up tears, and the tension, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out. But he waited. He gave her the space she needed to collect her thoughts.

“I forgot,” she repeated. “At first. And then I just happened to pass by a mirror and…and I looked at myself. I mean, really looked at myself.”

“Oh–” He sighed. “Baby…”

“I’m smaller when my stomach is empty, you know. And I thought it wouldn’t hurt me to, uh…cut back a little?”

He was about to respond, but she cut him off. “I don’t mean that I’m starving myself. I just…I forgot to eat, and then, when I remembered, I remembered what I saw and I was just…I’m not hungry anymore. I…I don’t think it’s a big deal. I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m just…”

She stopped pacing. She met his unfocused hazel eyes that held so much pain when he looked at her. He reached out, not saying a word, and she extended her shaky fingers toward the lifeline he was throwing. 

“Oh, God,” she whispered. She realized then why he looked so hurt. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

The question hung in the room as he pulled her toward himself. 

She didn’t protest when he pulled her back onto the couch, his arms engulfing her and pulling her back against his sturdy chest.

“What makes you think that you need to hurt yourself to fit some unrealistic beauty standard?” he asked softly, his voice merely a breath tickling her ear. 

She whimpered, not wanting to answer. 

“What makes you think that not being healthy is the solution to the way you see yourself? Wouldn’t that just make it worse?”

“I just…” She took a deep breath. “I just… I just want to be enough.”

“But you are enough,” he answered in a heartbeat, placing his hand on her neck and turning her face to him. He missed her face with his gaze, but she could still feel him in every fiber of her being as he sat there and felt her pulse, and she matched her breathing to his. 

A tear rolled down her cheek. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” she whispered back. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be only seen as the comedic relief in every relationship you have ever been in while your friends pulled the guys you wanted. Because they never wanted you, and they never saw competition in you either because you were just never the center of anyone’s attention.”

He was silent for a moment. The taste of her tears reached his tongue, and he visibly recoiled at the pain she held inside of her. Matt pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter. She melted. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of leaving her to deal with her thoughts, he placed his lips against her ear again. “You’re the center of my attention,” he said. “Of my world. My universe. And I couldn’t care less about the way you look.”

“That’s because you’re blind,” she shot back, a sob rippling through her body. 

He shook his head. “No. Those who reduce you to your looks are blind, and they don’t even deserve you in the first place. What matters most is this–” his large hand found its way onto the left side of her chest, above her heart. “What’s in here is what makes you beautiful, not what covers the outside.”

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

“To me, it is.”

“Not to me, Matthew. Like I said, you don’t get it.”

She struggled against his grip, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Then let me rephrase it,” he tried again, pressing his hand further against her chest. “I care more about who you are inside because I love you. But I don’t need sight to appreciate your physical beauty along with the sound of your heartbeat. Your breathing. Your touch. You know why?”

She shook her head. “Enlighten me.”

“Because I can feel you, sweetheart, and you are the most breathtaking human being I have ever had the pleasure of laying my hands on.”

If words were enough to make a person pass out, this would surely have been her breaking point. 

“You mean that?” She turned around, her tears now glistening with a taste of hope. 

He brushed them away with his thumb and nodded. “Every last word.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the ghost of his touch. “I don’t like my body,” the admission came quietly.

In response, Matt nodded. “I know, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. That body deserves to be loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I feel like…like I don’t deserve you. I don’t want you to leave me for…for Karen.”

The mention of her name caused him to frown. “Karen?” he asked. She nodded. He sighed, forcing her head to his chest, forcing her to listen to his heartbeat the same way he always did to her. “Don’t even think like that,” he told her. “I would never leave you for someone else. For no one, for nothing. I need you to stop assuming that, sweetheart. It’s not true.”

“It feels true,” she cried. 

His lips brushed the crown of her head. “But it isn’t.”

“But–”

“I love you,” he said, a bit more insistent this time. “Only you. I would rather die than never be with you again. And I mean that. Bring me the poison and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll get on my knees and worship the ground you walk on if that’ll make you believe me, but I won’t leave you.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shirt. Matt shushed her, his fingers brushing through her hair. The rhythm was soothing. 

She sobbed until she had nothing left to give. She cried because she knew he was right. She knew she was overthinking, but she was powerless to fight it. He was the only one who could open her eyes, and even then, she more often than not slipped away. She hated it. She hated the way her brain was wired, the things she was taught, and the things she continuously and wrongly kept teaching herself. 

Eventually, though, she slacked in his arms. 

“I don’t really like myself right now,” she confessed. “But I don’t know how to stop it.”

Matt chuckled softly, his chest rumbling. He tilted her chin up. “Then let me help you,” he said. 

“How?” she asked. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle kiss. “Just let me love you.” 

Tagging from Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @ravenclaw617 @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten

[cynthiav06]

Question. do you think Percy should have stayed Single? Or ended up with somebody other than Annabeth? I Really think he should have stayed Single. Because I personally don't Like Percabeth, I don't Ship Percabeth and I don't Like Annabeth at all because of the way the Shippers act, or The way the characters themselves in Canon Act, like how Percy just does whatever Annabeth says, or how Percy is scared of Annabeth, Or how fans make it seem like Percy would become an Emo Edge Lord if something happened to Annabeth, Or How much she Belittles and Degrades him (I hate the nickname Seaweed brain), Especially since she acts like Percy cant do anything without her That moment when She and Reyna were talking about how ("Percy Couldn't find his way out of a Paper Bag without you")Made me SO mad it made me Dislike Annabeth even more and Dislike the Percabeth Ship as a Whole, I even hated when she Pretty much Restricted percy of using his powers You Know? "The sea doesn't like to be Restrained" well here it is.. being restrained...Exactly what it hates, and I hate how the Fandom makes Percabeth a Godly Ship saying they are the "It Couple" which they aren't and how They treat anyone who doesn't like Percabeth or Ships Percy with someone else other then Annabeth, but the one thing I HATE the most is how they make EVERYTHING percy Does Romantic for Annabeth like she's the only person who matters to him (Percy Only Remembering Annabeth (a Girl he's Known for only a couple years) Instead of The woman Who RAISED him by a goddess who isn't even the goddess of Love Made me SO MAD and Even when Annabeth made Percy remember when he was in the River Styx when it should have been his Mom made me mad) which is why I mostly believe that Percy Should have just stayed Single (I'm all for an Aromantic Percy) or At least Give him a Love interest who he can be Comfortable around and doesn't have to Constantly walk on Eggshells around her (I wished he Dated Rachel) or Hell Even make him Gay i've saw characters who have Better chemistry with Percy then Annabeth IMO but this all just my opinion.

You honestly don't know how long I could rant on this exact subject.

It's partly Annabeth's fault, and it's partly Rick's fault.

Anyone and everyone who has read the Pjo and HoO series should have noticed how illogical Percy's personality change was.

Percy Jackson, the hero of Olympus and the strongest demigod to ever live, sassy as can be, laid back but scary beyond measure if you cross him and an absolute menace to his enemies and loyal to death.

That's who he is, and Rick remembered that initially, and even till Son of Neptune then he just forgot how Percy someone he himself wrote to be this way is.

It's like Percy has no identity of his own, and he is only significant if he is with Annabeth. Like hello, he's the main character people, is the Fandom seriously going to degrade the main character, especially when the said mc is Percy Jackson???

Percy, despite his own issues, is and will always be foremost in helping people. He would be the first person to help keep the seven together. He would be the first to try and make a bond. He wouldn't have some stupid and illogical and totally ooc beef with Jason. Instead, he would help Jason be more sure of himself to stand up to Jupiter and for himself.

He would help Leo personally to bring back Calypso and they would both shit talk Olympians and how fickle their oaths are.

He would literally do anything to save Nico. Like hello, are you telling me that the boy who at 14 took it upon himself to bear the Great Prophecy, which he thought who end up killing him just to save Nico from that fate????? He would go absolutely madly feral to save Nico from the Giants.

If Piper and Reyna had their screws all properly fit they would see that Annabeth and literally everyone else would be all left to die if it wasn't for Percy. Percy gets himself out of everything by his own efforts and his own strategies. (Annabeth's rarely work). It's time the Fandom acknowledges that the best strategist in the verse is Percy, no questions asked and finally give him due credit for all HIS efforts.

Percy would never ever leave Sally unless it was for a quest, especially not when she was pregnant and absolutely not to go to college, something he hates especially when it concerns New Rome.

Here's a thing about Percabeth shippers they care about Annabeth's plans and her dreams, not Percy's. It is literally so out of character for Percy to want to live in New Rome a place that invests in a child army, a place that despises his father and wouldn't even build him a decent temple, a place so extremely cut off from the sea.

If Percy wanted to live in peace and grow old, he would do it in a place of his choosing close to his mother, Paul and Estelle, and close to the sea. But here's the thing about Percy.

I don't think people get this, but Percy can't just up and leave, nor would he want to. His damned fatal flaw is LOYALTY. He would never ever leave demigods or anyone helpless by leaving Camp Half Blood. Sure he would take less quests on but he would ALWAYS stick around and Rick did him so dirty by making all his thoughts revolve around Annabeth and insinuating he would let others suffer just fine to be with Annabeth.

Percy gave up immortality because he took Sally's teaching to heart as she did so too when she denied Poseidon's offer. He did it for himself for demigods it didn't have shit to do with Annabeth, but of course, he would look at her because she represents his life as a demigod.

Rick making Percy see Annabeth near the Styx and making him remember Annabeth instead of Sally is just him bullshitting. We all know Percy is a mama's boy, and he would do right by Sally always, so him giving a girl who he has known for barely long enough has no basis to it.

And Percabeth stans literally can't take a mention of a single alternate Percy pairing that alone is the biggest red flag. Because they know their ship is toxic and that Annabeth is the root of it.

For the PEOPLE IN THE BACK aka toxic stans:

Annabeth's fatal flaw is HUBRIS, and she is by nature controlling and condescending, and her character had the chance to GROW and CHANGE, and it would have been the most epic character growth sequel but she did not and she is CONTROLLING, DISMISSIVE , DEMEANING.

The newest Read Riordan entry literally has Annabeth saying that she needs to catch up to Percy cause he scores a better grade than her in school (even there Percy is smarter folks there you have it) and she literally says if she doesn't catch up Percy might start calling her SEAWEED BRAIN. So it is a demeaning nickname she gives Percy and continues calling him that even after knowing how Gabe similarly verbally abused Percy.

This is the fandom's IT couple? Wow. Percy literally is going against his own nature of being free and unrestrained like the sea because of Annabeth's controlling nature.

The worst of her behavior is when she blames Percy for his disappearance when she dismissed him when he was talking about his trauma induced by Gabe, her beyond toxic treatment of Rachel, especially when she unreasonably asked Percy to supress the use of the very power that got them out alive (she is scared naturally but she cannot force her own fear on Percy when he did nothing wrong).

So yeah, Percy Jackson with anyone but Annabeth. I am all for aromantic Percy, but personally, I find Perachel to be more appealing.

Trust me, I could rant about this for hours, especially how Rick butchered Percy's personality and made it full of Annabeth, especially how he threw Percy's insecurities and trauma and PTSD out of the gutter post tartarus.

[yourdakg]

Donation Found!

Remember Ryder? The SoCal pretty boy who was depressed that his life was a vapid, superficial, and party focused existence? He contacted Turnaround Technologies to ask, nay plead for a new body and a new life. See his Donation Request Form.

If only it were that simple. Turnaround Technologies utilizes some of the most advanced science on the market. When a body is fully adjusted, it's a slow and sometimes torturous process! If it was as simple as switching brains, that would be one thing. But the subjects have to physically transform into one another, and then brainwaves are overwritten. Chemistry, genetics, biology, and psychology are all involved in this elaborate process.

So Ryder had to come up with the $325,000 fee. Luckily, he had money saved and he was able to sell off the red Mustang convertible and his yellow Yamaha Sport Bike to meet the target. The final straw was giving up the deed to his WeHo apartment. Don't tell him, but his donor bought the items! Isn't that funny? He covered the rest with personal loans! Well, a little bit of debt won't hurt.

Let's remind you of where Ryder is starting his journey:

And now let's the see information plate for his donor. I think he'll be very pleased! After this, he'll never have to worry about being surrounded by vapid, beautiful people and fending off pesky pool party invites! Yes, this is the ideal swap partner for Ryder.

Meet Dr. Pervus Fondler. And wouldn't you know it? Dr. Fondler was a doctor in Ryder's hometown! They actually know each other. The good doctor cares very deeply for Ryder and was pained when he heard about his current circumstances. He decided that his job as a physician meant he had to step up and give the ultimate sacrifice! You know what they say: First Do No Harm.

Donor Statement: While I am nervous about the process, I am confident that I will give Ryder a new future, one where he won't have to worry about all that vanity and his gym obsession. True freedom for the boy!

Thank you, doctor, for going the extra mile for your patients. Turnaround Technologies will prepare the Exchange Chambers. Both subjects will be stripped down and cleansed before being placed in metallic, moisture wicking bikinis while our technicians prepare for the process:

Now that Ryder is dressed and the drugs are injected into his system, it's time to introduce him to his generous benefactor. I hope he has a positive reaction to the kind of man he will become. Let's check in!

Patient Statement: No! Holy shit! No, not Pervus the Perv! You can't put me in that. Don't force me into that body! I'd be going from a perfect ten to a zero. Please! No... LET GO. Please, oh my God. No, I thought it would be another buff guy like me. I change my mind, I changed my mi--**UMPH HRRMPH**

It's not clear why Ryder objected so strongly to his partner. Maybe it was the shock of knowing who the doctor was from earlier in his life. At any rate, he paid the fee and signed the paperwork so there is, quite literally, no going back. Swaps of this nature are once in a lifetime and, of course, quite permanent.

Subject had to be forcibly gagged and sedated.

Add another $125,000 for the service. Ryder sure is going to pay a lot of money for his new life!

When he came to in the chamber, Ryder was pounding on the door. I think he was crying. His oversize genitalia were mashed against the glass in his silver pouch. It was quite the sight. When the whirr of the machine began and the paralyzing blue light hit, his eyes went crossed. He fell backwards and pumped his hips in the air. Well, the erection is to be expected. I've heard the process somewhat erotic, though painful.

It takes a couple days and the exchange unstable during that time, but I am happy to report the following:

Donor Report: I feel good. Very good. I'm probably going to move to SoCal, sort of take over Ryder's apartment. I'll probably start using his name now too. Don't wanna confuse people. I don't even have my old, perverted urges. I hope he's comfortable with the mental traits foisted on him. Oh... he wants to take picture of me? Ha, okay. I'll flex for $100. Recipient Report: What do you mean I can't go back *whimper* why do I feel so strange. I'm already out of breath. Give it back! What do you mean a name change is included in the package *sob* MY NAME IS PERVUS NOW??!?! Oh. I have to take his medical practice in my shithole hometown? Oh God! I just... oh goodness, seeing it from this angle it's such a fine body. So tight and firm! At least flex for me, my boy? A little. So I can snap a few pics and... use them later. Eehehe. Oh God, what have I become?

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I’ve never done a request, and obviously you can say no. But I’d love to hear what you think the sleep tokens would be like with a gf/wife/whatever who had a baby and are not comfortable with the way their body has changed??

I’m 9 months post partum and I’m having a hard time with this, so, idk, you’re so good at writing.

Thank you ♥️♥️

Be kind to yourself mama, you grew a whole new life. ✨🤍

Vessel

Let’s face it, you were a muse to him before your pregnancy but the thought of you growing his baby alerted his brain chemistry. He wanted to be a part of everything. The smallest of things like your back or side itching was interesting to him. So he weathered the storm in your head for you. Jumping at any given moment to remind you just how beautiful you were.

That didn’t change after you delivered the baby. Hair tangled and unwashed for days? Still pretty to him. He would just offer to take your bundle of joy and let you have your time. Or if you need help he’s settling the little one and he’s right there in the shower with you. Sitting you down on a little stool and washing your hair for you. Shirt covered in spit-up and breast milk stains? He couldn’t care less you are still stunning to him.

So he sees it. The glazeqd look in your eyes as you feed your baby. Head thrown over the back of the sofa. Vess settles beside you. Handing you an iced water bottle. Waving a little waffle bar in front of you. One that you just look at before shaking your head. That’s enough to make him frown.

“Do you want a different snack?”, he glances over to the kitchen, “Frozen yogurt bites? Nutella on toast? Crisps?”. You shake your head at it all. “Okay… do you want me to cook you something. We have that brownie mix or I can make you pancakes?”, and you know he would because there wasn’t a craving that went unsatisfied during your pregnancy.

“An apple of carrots might just do”, you shrug. Vessel tilts his head to the side, “You crave sugar when you breastfeed. Apples are tart, well the ones we have are. I could run to the…”, you reach out pressing your hand onto his thigh. “There’s no need, we’ll just eat dinner later on”, you try to smile at him but you can practically see the gears turning in his head. He doesn’t push but his eyes are demanding answers.

“It’s time I seriously start thinking about losing the baby chub I still have”, the words feel sour on your tongue, and from the way Vessel frowns you can tell that it tastes just as sour to him. “Your body grew our child”, he shakes his head. “Yeah, but I want to fit into my jeans again”, you scoff, not sure why you were biting back at him. Vessel stands up, reaching for your hand, “Can you stand up real quick”, and it’s not a question. His arms are steadying you as you both move. The baby lets out an annoyed grunt from all the commotion. One that Vessel is quick to soothe with a couple of kisses to their head.

And then he’s careful dragging you towards the bedroom. Towards your biggest enemy. The full wall mirror. But he doesn’t let you halt as he pulls you right in front of it. Standing protectively behind you. Leaning in to kiss the side of your head, your shoulder.

“I’m starting to think that we see very different things when we look in the mirror”, he says. “Bet, you are a sex god and I am just…”, you start only to be cut off by Vess, “I dare you to finish that sentence”. And there’s an edge to his voice now. The protector in full force. You feel your eyes sting slightly. “You are talking shit about a body that grew our baby”, he continues, hands reaching for your sides as he pulls you against him. “You grew eyelashes, little toes, blue eyes here”, his fingers snake beneath the stained shirt, gliding effectively over your skin. “But I was pretty before this”, you hiccup slightly, watching him watch you in the mirror. “You were”, he admits before adding, “You’re gorgeous now”. Your heart skips a beat and you let a sob slip past your lips. Leaning your head back against his chest. Vessel is right there ready to kiss each tear away. Ready to breathe you in. Until you believe in it too.

iii

He had just come home after rehearsals. Arms full of shit he randomly bought at a grocery store cause Thursday was always movie night. He halts listening for the noises around the apartment. The bub should be having an evening nap now and at times it means you’re also napping so he doesn’t want to disturb either one of you. It’s the light sniffing that makes his senses perk up almost immediately. So iii is kicking off his shoes in a hurry as he moves towards the sound.

He finds you in the laundry room. Hands clenching onto a white dress he knew you had worn so many times back when you two used to go clubbing still. Your tear-stained cheeks kill him internally. He can handle lots of shit but not you crying. So iii is reaching out to you, making you jump ever so slightly. “Shit, I didn’t hear you”, you breathe out, quickly wiping your damp cheeks. But you know that the damage is done. He saw you. Lying about it would be pointless.

He comes to tower over you, both palms cupping your cheeks as he lifts your face so he can see you better, “Hey, what’s wrong?”, he muses. Blue eyes drowning you in. “Come here look at me”, he urges, reaching down to hold onto your thighs as he lifts you, setting you down on the washing machine. Parting your thighs so he could step between your legs.

You let out a deep sigh, “Just don’t feel like me”, admitting it out loud feeling just painful. “What do you mean by that?”, he has an inkling where this is going but he’s not about to jump to conclusions. Even more so not pointing it out because he doesn’t want to fuel the fire that’s already burning.

“Have you seen my tits my shirt straps are holding on for dear life”, you grunt, with a shake of your head. “Oh I’ve seen them”, iii can’t help but smirk, “wouldn’t mind seeing them more often”, he wiggles his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side so he can lean closer to you.

“iii”, you can’t help a little snort that slips past your lips. “What? I am an honest man”, he puts his palm on his heart before reaching out to squeeze your thighs, “Same goes for your thighs if I could I would be all over you”, he wraps your legs around his torso. You look up at him, “Yeah but I’m… don’t you think that I’m ugly now, not as hot?”, you ask, before chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Not as hot?”, iii raises his eyebrows, “Mama, you are the hottest. Sizzling hot, look”, he presses a finger to the swell of your breast, letting out a hiss before blowing at the tip of his finger as if he had just gotten burnt. You can’t help but let out a laugh as you shake your head, “You’re unbelievable”. A grin spread over his face, “No, you are unbelievable, unbelievably beautiful”, he pointed out, reaching to cup your jaw, “You brought life into this world that’s fucking breathtaking”, he muses against your lips before leaning in to kiss you.

ii

He has the baby sprawled on his forearm. Little koala straddling a tree trunk. He loves it like that. The little kicks growing into sleepy calmness. He’s mixing eggs with a fork with the other hand. Humming a tune beneath his breath, a new melody he’s been working on with the boys.

“I’m not going”, his happy bubble is busted with the sound of your voice as he turns towards you. “What do you mean you’re not going?”, he frowns slightly. Eyes falling over your curves and the summery dress you had on. Maybe not going was a good option. If he got the baby to sleep he would have you all to himself and if he could just yank the skirt part up…

“Look at me”, you huff in frustration making ii blink. “I am looking, I’m looking”, he nods not following your train of thought. “And?”, you say in frustration. He frowns slightly, “And?”, he repeats your question because he’s genuinely not seeing an issue or maybe the dress was new and he should have said something about it. “I look pathetic in this. I can’t go out looking like that”, you pull at the material of your dress before turning to the side, pinching the bride of your nose.

ii bounces the still half asleep baby in his arms, before carefully lowering them into the swing. He doesn’t have to see you. He can feel the tears streaming down your face. Each tear leaving a new crack in his heart. So he’s turning to you, reaching for your hand but you bat his arms away from you. “Nah, I ain’t having any of this”, he muses, stepping in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face, and guiding them over his torso instead.

“Did someone say anything about the way you look?”, he asks, “Cause I am not opposed to shoving drum sticks up someone’s ass”. You just shake your head, “Everything just feels different, I feel like every part of my body is not mine”, you admit, lip wobbling. “You were just pregnant, you’re feeding a child now and your hormones are once again having a field day”, he states firmly, “Why are you taring yourself apart for something so natural and normal?”, “I just want to feel like myself again”, you muttered, resting your head on his chest. “We can go clothes shopping if you hate what you have, clothes are meant to fit you not the other way around. We can go work out together if that would make you feel better and I am not referring to sex, although…”, ii trails off. “ii”, you grunt, making him smirk, “I’m just saying, if you need me home more so you could do more stuff that would make you feel better, you let me know and I will make it happen”, he reaches out, cupping your face. Carefully brush some of your hair away from your face.

iv

Ivy had a feeling that something had been off for some time now. You’ve been pushing his hands away from your body, or simply escaping his embrace. You stopped changing in front of him. Instead opting to take your clothes to the bathroom. But it’s the Sunday morning that does it for him. He had just settled the baby for the morning nap after feeding them the bottle. He hears the shower running and as if on out-pilot, he’s yanking his shirt over his head. Grabbing the baby monitor and walking towards the shared bathroom. He’s tugging at his shorts when his shoulder collides with the door. He frowns, reaching for the handle only to find it locked. A part of him understood your need for alone time but he much rather get told off and be shushed out of the bathroom than be locked out of it.

So he sits on the bed, right in front of the door. Waiting for you to come out. Not angry not frustrated, but feeling the need to finally bring this up. You unlock the door sometime later. Halting mid-step when you see iv sitting there. “I wasn’t expecting you here”, you chuckle slightly. “We always shower together”, he points out. You watch him for a moment. “You locked the doors”, he says softly, “not that it’s a bad thing, you can do that just… I feel like you’ve been avoiding me”. His words make your heart ache.

“And if I’ve done something to upset you, I would love to know 'cause I am too stupid to see that”, he gets up walking closer to you. You let out a deep sigh but don’t push him away this time. Missing his touch just as much. “I’m sorry”, he mumbles, and you shake your head, “You haven’t done anything wrong it’s all on me”, you let your fingers run over his arms as you think over your next words. “I just… I don’t look the same and I… I guess I was hoping I could bounce back and then you wouldn’t have to see me out of shape”. The sentence comes out like one big breath. You watchiv blink slowly. He opens his mouth a couple of times before closing it.

“I’m sorry but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard”, he shakes his head, “What do you mean bounce back? See what? I’ve seen everything. I put frozen pads in your nickers may I remind you of that, after putting that squirty thing to hose it down”. “It’s a peri bottle, not a hose”, you roll your eyes with a shake of your head. “Doesn’t change the point”, he shrugs.

“I just don’t like how I look and I guess…”, your voice dies down as you bite your lips. “Well, rock into my fucking garden. I’ve done a shit job of reminding you of how beautiful you are to me”, iv wraps an arm over your middle, pulling you close to him. “Should have seen through this. I just thought you needed alone time”. He presses his forehead to yours, “Not running a hate campaign against yourself. We can’t have that, love”. You give him a sad smile, “I’ve missed you”, you mutter. “I’m here and I’m taking over your worshipping”, his hands reach behind your thighs as he pulls you up and into his arms.

[prodbyton]

Also!!! Do you have any recent pervert/loser Sohee thoughts swimming around in ur head that you would like to share with the class 🫵🏾🤨? Honest to god I never saw the appeal in that trope until I found ur blog PLEEK I think u and that other anon changed my brain chemistry a bit. I love the thought of down bad Sohee ghfdhjf it’s very pleasing to my brain I wanna eat him so bad. Pathetic and perverted Sohee is so real and I would be just as pathetic and perverted for him too. I’m nasty he nasty we chocolate chip cookies

—🍓

adding these two tg hehe

cw. dubcon ?? , sohees icky , +18 mdni

think of sohee as the boy you have to tutor before finals… how convenient that his worst subject is your best, and he’s attracted to the fact that you’re so smart…

sohee is a bit weird from what you’ve heard from others, and honestly when he came up to you after class you were a little skeptical about tutoring him, but you said yes because he was nearly begging and you have a hard time saying no. also he was super cute, how weird could be be?

so you’re in his dorm, sitting at his desk trying to explain the material in a way that he can understand. but he’s not paying attention, not when you were so close to him, not when if he looked just slightly off the screen of your laptop he could see down your shirt, not when your lips that were perfectly glossed and plump were so tempting and kissable, not when he wished that your hand on your thigh was his hand instead.

“do you think you can answer this question on your own?”

he’s snapped out of his thoughts when your tapping his shoulder, words booming through his ears and traveling quickly to his dick. he feels himself twitch in his pants and he knows he’s screwed. he was only halfway understanding the material, but you looked at him expectantly and all the knowledge in his brain turned into mush. so he takes a wild guess and hopes that he gets it right.

but he doesn’t. and he knows before you could tell him, because it’s evident on your face. he wants to feel bad, he feels stupid for not getting it right, but he can’t help but twitch again at the thought of you scolding him for not getting the answer correct.

“sohee, i don’t know how else to explain this to you, it’s honestly not even that hard…” your voice trails as you sigh and he has to bite his lip to stop a whimper from erupting from his throat.

the problem might not have been hard, but he definitely was.

“s-sorry… can you explain it again?” his voice is low and he blinks hard a few times while you start explaining it to him once again.

he can’t help the way his hips start moving in his seat, your words sounding like a foreign language to him besides the small “right?” “got it?” “hmm?” that leave you to make sure he was still with you. he would repeat the words back to you and hoped that you wouldn’t look down or take your eyes off the screen, he was humping the air and finding relief in your voice. his eyes traveled down your shirt again and he accidentally replies to you a bit too breathy, like a moan, and you look at the boy who was next to you. he wad red, his eyes low and his lip between his teeth. then you look down, cock hard in his pants that he was rutting against.

“are you… are you getting off right now? what the fuck?” you jump out of your seat and stare down at the boy with confusion and a tinge of disgust. you can’t help the way you start to feel your second heartbeat between your legs, slight smirk creeping on your face. he likes it, how dirty he feels for this, how you’re calling him disgusting and he’s asking for you to touch him, but you deny him, because he doesn’t deserve your help when he can’t even answer a simple question on his study guide.

you watch as he continues to hump the air while he sits in his seat, hands gripping both sides of the uncomfortable wooden chair as he throws his head back, he imagines those pretty fingers jerking him off, he imagines those lips sucking on his cock while he cums in your mouth, he imagines what your tits would look like squished together and suddenly he’s moaning out loud and trembling under your gaze, his release leaking through the layers of his boxers and thin basketball shorts and creating a big wet spot.

“so dirty,” you hold back a chuckle and he whimpers, he’s still trembling in embarrassment from cumming untouched right in front of you. with a deep breath you move closer to him, sitting back down in your chair but moving it closer to where sohee sits. his eyes shoot open wide when one hand rests on his thigh while the other touches the print of his still hard cock, dipping into the soaked through fabric. he looks at your hands then back at your face, which is dangerously close to his as you speak to him. “finish this problem for me, and i’ll reward you mkay?”

tbh i didn’t understand the perv trope until 2022 & my life has been changed since… also 🍓 anon i’m going to ignore the chocolate chip cookie slander, more like i’m nasty he nasty we cheesecake… hope you liked this i got a little carried away LOL

[hey-august]

August, if you ever wonder if some of your readership would like to hear your thoughts about Buggy and Reader in a poly relationship with either crossguild or Shuggy… WELP. There’s at least one.

I just want that clown to smooch me and also several other men who may or may not scare the shit out of him or incite deep feelings of rage in him. He’s very smoochable and I’m willing to share (and I just like to think about the added hilarity with any of these characters still in the picture)

omgggg yes!! I deeply adore the dynamics of all those relationships. The clown is just so...adaptable? Blendable? Sharable? Adorable.

I do have some Shanks x Buggy x Reader headcanons to share!

But first, for Cross Guild x Reader needs, I so strongly recommend @discordantwritings stories here (I'm pretty sure Our Precious Assistant Pt 2 changed my brain chemistry) and @turtletaubwrites' Numbers Game, which just started and is so good already. ❤️❤️❤️

Nowwww, let's talk Shuggy x Reader.

Word count: ~1.2k Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, shanks x buggy x GN!reader, mix of fluffy and smutty thoughts, teasing, oral reader + m receiving, insertion sex, threesome, some praise, sorry for anything that's extremely ooc

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Date Nights

The first time you had a planned date with Shanks, Buggy sailed away so “date night” became “date week.” Buggy was jealous and embarrassed, which you both expected. You were annoyed at first, because this had been planned and discussed, but talking with Shanks calmed you down. This was new territory for all of you and it would take time to navigate. So when Buggy came back, no one made a fuss about it. If anything, you and Shanks were a little softer and a little kinder with the clown. Buggy picked up on the acceptance in your actions and it made him feel better. This also kicked off weekend-long dates, which you all look forward to.

One of your favorite dates with Shanks was when he took you to a town he frequented. The afternoon was spent strolling Main Street and shopping, although that was more of an excuse for Shanks to show you off. The evening ended at a cozy pub where he regaled you with alluring tales. Even though you heard some of them before, listening to him talk puts stars in your eyes. An expression that simply melts him.

Your favorite Buggy date was actually a party on his ship. You two were inseparable the entire night and the highlight was singing along to music at the end of the night. “Singing.” You were both bottles deep and could hardly get full words out, but the (hazy) memory of laughing and giggling your ways through the inebriated performance while holding on to each other always makes you smile. Buggy often catches that particular goofy grin on your face and he just adores it.

Buggy and Shanks also spend time together, which is surprising-not surprising. Buggy might claim that he’s upset with Shanks and needs to go yell at him, or wants to gloat about something. Shanks tries to entice Buggy with the promise of shiny goodies and treasure. Everyone knows it’s a farce, but it’s how they show they care for each other. There’s no denying the sparks in their eyes afterwards.

Petty Arguments

When these two get together, their inner children teens come out in full swing. And so do the jokes and petty arguments.

Shanks messes with Buggy any chance he gets. Teasing comments, swapping his nearly empty drink with Buggy’s fuller glass, dumb jokes.

He’ll also tease you, but in the form of cheesy pick-up lines. “If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together.” “I was feeling a little off today, but you've turned me on again.” “Did you do something to my eyes? I can't seem to take them off you.”

Buggy can’t stand when your attention is on Shanks for too long, so he’ll try and out-do the other pirate. He has a repertoire of card drinks and sleight of hands, which often do the trick.

Shanks knows what Buggy is doing and teases him. “I know you’re a performer, but there’s no need to make a scene.” Buggy didn’t like that one.

There was the one time Buggy challenged Shanks to a juggling challenge. When Shanks declined, Buggy was ready with his own comeback. “It’s not because of the arm, it’s because he doesn’t have the balls.” Surprisingly, that spurred Shanks into joining the 2-man competition.

Speaking of being competitive…

Sex with them individually is nothing like having sex all together.

At first, you were often at the mercy of the two men who were intent on proving how well they could pleasure you. Once, they wanted to see who was better at oral and could make you cum the most times. The more orgasms you had, the less lucid you became and the competition turned into finding out who would you beg to fuck you. Even though the countless orgasms emptied your head, you remembered that this all started with oral and you didn’t want to mess with the rules of their contest. When they realized you were trying so hard not to whine and ask for their dicks, they started asking you. - “Baby, want me to fuck you? C’mon, don’t you want to feel this inside you?” - “You look so good on my tongue, but you’d look better on my cock. Tell me you want it.”

Unfortunately (fortunately?) there was no clear winner. Buggy was between your legs yet again, with your fingers entwined in his hair and your head was flopped to the side. You said “please, want you inside,” but they couldn’t agree on who you were talking to. Shanks is adamant that you were looking at him, but Buggy calls bullshit and claims you were talking to him because he was the one making you feel good.

There are sessions where you and Shanks focus more on Buggy. It took a lot of time for Buggy to feel relaxed enough to accept the attention, but you two wore him down and won him over. He’ll rarely admit it, but Buggy loves being sandwiched between you and Shanks. The feeling of sinking his cock into you while he’s stretched around Shanks is so overwhelmingly delicious that Buggy gets greedy. He can’t get enough of moving his hips so he can fuck you and fuck himself on Shanks’ cock. The sweet moans and whimpers he releases are intoxicating. Buggy’s often the first to cum in this position, but Shanks will continue to fuck you through Buggy, knowing how to maneuver Buggy’s hips and thrust until you climax.

In turn, there are the moments where you and Buggy cater to Shanks. He never gets tired of watching you and Buggy fight to suck his leaking cock. The way you struggle to throat his member while Buggy focuses on smearing his face paint on Shanks’ thighs and balls through sloppy kisses is a vision that gets Shanks hard at a moment’s notice. Buggy’s attention is fierce and demanding - he’s trying to unravel Shanks entirely. It's a power trip thing. Whereas you balance that heat with restrained touches. When Shanks cums in your mouth, you always share with Buggy and make sure to show Shanks that you both swallowed his entire load. Seeing you hold Buggy by his hair and squeezing the clown's cheeks to present his empty mouth is a sinfully beautiful encore.

Your favorite times are the ones where you get to spoil Shanks and Buggy. You tend and care to their needs. Your gentleness wipes away their fierce competitive streaks. You make sure that you give them both a surplus of attention and shower them with desire. If you’re riding or under one, your hands and eyes are on the other. You pour praise and compliments until they’re overflowing. And the way it overflows is music to your ears. They turn the praise to you and to each other. - “You look amazing on Buggy’s cock.” - “Get on Shanks and make him feel good, I wanna see that sweet face you make.” - “Pretty thing, you’re taking him so well.” - “Good job, you know how to make him moan so loud.” - “You’re going to make him cum, keep going.”

The cuddles after these sessions? Heavenly. Amazing. Buggy, who normally takes up the entire bed, sleeps so peacefully when you and Shanks are on either side of him. Sometimes, when Buggy passes out first, you’ll claim the middle spot and wake up to the two pirates wrapped around you. It’s a little sweaty and a lot comforting.

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

What is your all time #1 God tier established relationship payneland headcanon?

Oh my god I have to only pick one??

Okay. Going to do my best here, because I have a lot of them. Here’s one I think is important though.

I think Edwin was one of the only people who was ever truly, unconditionally good to Charles in the way that he needed. He was attentive, patient, kind, and defended him (the best he could, as a ghost) from harm. This probably meant a lot to Charles, considering how he grew up. When he was dying, he tucked him in and read him to sleep death. I earnestly think that moment changed his brain chemistry and made him go “this is my person”, thus why he’s now devoted himself to protecting Edwin. Charles may not love being dead, but he has said he wouldn’t want to be dead with anyone else.

So we know he doesn’t want to be dead with anyone else. We also know he likes being close to and touching Edwin (I’m pretty sure it’s a love language for him, or at the very least some form of self soothing). He’s constantly leaning on him or in his general space, even in the first few episodes. Here’s a couple of cute moments:

Now, my HC: Charles likes to lean against Edwin and listen to him read when he’s had a long day. Edwin humors him and reads him whatever reference book he’s working with because

1. he feels some sort of way about him, even if he hasn’t identified it yet before the series

2. he’s not happy he couldn’t save Charles that night in the attic, but there’s a small part of him that feels so very special Charles would pick him over possibly heaven.

That’s it, that’s the HC

**I MISREAD THE QUESTION SORRY, I thought you meant pre-established in canon verse! I am so dumb for them lmao

[elliesflower]

i saw you in a dream [6]

chapter 5 here

summary; you get in your head about ellie and cat.

chapter; 6/? 2.5k words

cw (per chapter); language, light angst

an; SURPRISE SHAWTY

it's my birthday but i felt like giving y'all a gift. you all make my days so special and put a smile on my face with your sweet comments and messages. i love you all with my whole heart!

find this chapter on ao3 here, i also made a spotify playlist to go with this story, listen to it here :)

“Cat,” you repeated her name, with a smile. But it felt like poison rolling off your tongue. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she smiled back, and her teeth were fucking perfect, bleached white and practically sparkling in the soft ambient lighting in the theatre. It sounded insincere, somehow. 

“So, Ellie,” Cat was back to talking to Ellie as if you didn’t exist, turning away from you so that you could gaze at her super angular jawline and dreamy slick black hair as it gently brushed her shoulders. Ellie shot you a quick look that you couldn’t quite decipher—it’s not like Cat would have noticed though, she was too busy tugging at the hem of Ellie’s flannel. You quickly averted your eyes, backing away slowly, scanning the room for Dina. Wishing desperately that the earth would just open up and swallow you whole. Their conversation suddenly seemed…personal. 

“I was thinking tonight I’d take you out to dinner, my treat! Your set was amazing,” she was purring. “I couldn’t have done this without you,” and if she had a tail it would be sticking straight up in the air, curling at the tip and pulling Ellie in. You glanced back at Ellie, who didn’t look at you, and instead looked down and grabbed Cat’s hand from her flannel. You turned all the way around now, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

But Ellie sang your song. Your song? The two of you had hung out one time. You can’t have a song with someone after one hang out, can you? It’s a pretty popular song, and easy enough for a quick performance. Yeah. Your brain tried to piece it all together, drowning out Ellie and Cat’s voices behind you, maybe if you squeezed your eyes shut you could just pretend you were somewhere far, far away, not making a fool of yourself in front of a pretty girl you thought might like you too. 

“Dude, we gotta go, my chem professor just saw me and he’s gonna rip me a new one for missing my final,” Dina appeared practically out of thin air, like a goddamn angel, and grabbed your arm, tugging harshly. You opened your eyes, blinking at her. 

“Wait, you skipped your chemistry final?” 

“What? It’s not like I was gonna pass anyways,” she shook her head at you like it was obvious. 

“Oh. Yeah, okay, whatever,” you sounded dejected. You felt dejected. You probably looked it, too. Dina glanced behind you, presumably at whatever disgusting form of PDA was occurring between Ellie and Cat, based on the change in her expression.

“Who the fuck-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you cut her off, starting towards the door. “Let’s just go.”

It was stupid. This was stupid. Of course Ellie would end up with a person like Cat. Girls like Ellie don’t go for people like…you. People like Cat always have the upperhand—their features the pinnacle of modern beauty standards, voices like a slow dripping faucet of saccharine honey, a presence that captivates the room in an instant. There was no competing with that. They always win. 

“Hey,” Dina’s voice was laced with concern, and she was by your side in an instant, matching your stride as you practically stomped towards the exit. You tried to blink away the tears that slightly clouded your vision. “What happened back there?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you said, not looking at her. You could feel her gaze piercing into the side of your head, and could envision her brows pinched together with worry. 

“C’mon, just tell me. Who was that?” 

“It was no one,” you grumbled, blinking rapidly now, fighting the burning behind your eyes. 

“Well ‘no one’ sure had some fucking audacity to-”

“Audacity to what, Dina?” You stopped dead in your tracks, turning to face her. She looked at you with wide eyes. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Your tone was harsh. You felt it, as it painted Dina’s face with dispirit, the corners of her mouth turning downward slightly. Instantly, you regretted it. 

“Okay. I’ll leave it,” she forced a smile, but you couldn’t say anything else, just stuck dead in your tracks as you looked at her, unmoving. Blinking. Why the fuck are you blinking so much?

“Seriously, it’s okay,” she said after a moment, but her voice sounded a little shaky, and you felt like shit. How did Ellie get into your head like this? 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you burst, the pressure behind your eyes turning into a waterfall, spilling from your eyes as you covered them with your hands, shaking your head. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…a lot.” 

“Hey, I said it’s okay,” Dina assured, and her voice made you want to cry even harder—she was so good to you, grabbing your hands away from your face and leading you further down the hall, away from the people that were trickling out of the theater. “I’m sorry for pressuring you. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Ever.” 

“No, it’s not that,” you sniffed, letting her lead you out the main entrance. “I do want to tell you, it’s just…frustrating,” you sighed, exasperated as the cold hit your face and pricked your skin through the holes of your sweater. 

“I get it,” she nodded. 

“I can’t believe I thought I actually had a chance with her,” you moped, wiping the wetness from under your eyes. Dina was quiet next to you as you walked, though she looked deep in thought, watching the ground as the two of you walked. She led you all the way to a bench just outside of your dorm building without saying another word. You watched your breath turn to fog as you sat, instinctively pressing against Dina to share body heat. 

You felt shameful. Both for that terrible interaction with Ellie, and for snapping at Dina. You wished you had never even gone to that open mic, that you had just said you were sick like you’d proposed to Dina a few hours before when the nerves were settling in—you supposed you should have listened to your gut. 

“That was her roommate. Cat,” and yep, the name was still venomous. Dina looked at you, silently prodding you to continue. You looked down at your hands, rubbing them together in your lap. 

“Apparently, they ‘go way back,’” you made air quotes. “Wednesday, when she invited me to this, she mentioned something about a toxic ex. I have a feeling it’s her. Although she kind of acts more like they’re currently together.”

Dina watched you for another moment, before turning away, looking down at her feet. She was silent for a moment, and you wanted to scream. Even Dina, the queen of advice, had nothing to say to you. Lovely. 

“I’m sorry, but if Ellie doesn’t see what she could have with you then she’s fucking stupid,” she blurted suddenly, and she was no longer sad, but angry. You looked at her, and she was shaking her head, looking out into the empty courtyard.

“Dina, it’s really okay,” you said, but your voice was small and unconvincing. 

“No, I’m serious,” she said. “That was fucked up. And I’m sorry.”

You looked back down at your hands. 

“It’s okay,” it didn’t sound like it. “It was just a crush. I’ll get over it.” Dina kept her eyes on you, watching as you bounced your knee anxiously. 

Just a crush. Hah. Okay. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Dina asked after a beat. Yeah, you were fucked. 

“I think I’m gonna hang out down here for a minute. I could use the fresh air,” you said quietly. 

“Fresh air? Dude, it’s fucking freezing out here, you’re going to catch a cold or something,” Dina chided, before standing up. “God, you’re making me sound like a mom.”

“I’m really okay, Dee,” you tried to smile, but it felt awkward on your otherwise solemn face. “I’ll walk around a bit. I’ll be fine.” She looked at you for another moment with pursed lips, before nodding slightly. 

“Turn your ringer up, yeah?” 

You nodded, accepting her warm hug, gratefully. Ironically, you thought, she also kind of hugged like a mom. 

You regretted not going in with her about thirty seconds into your walk. It was kind of hard to think about anything but the bitter cold stinging your cheeks—though, you supposed, that was kind of a good thing. Maybe the freeze would seep into your brain and ruin the part of your brain responsible for holding onto memory of Ellie. Kind of pathetic, huh?

“Are you out here all alone?” 

You nearly stumbled over nothing, flinching when a voice startled you out of your thoughts, turning quickly to the sound. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Ellie,” you breathed, your eyes widening, your heart rate increasing by the second. She adorned a tan Carhartt coat now, her hands stuffed in her pockets, and she looked a whole lot warmer than you felt. You swallowed thickly, unsure of what else to say. So much for forgetting about her. 

“You disappeared,” she spoke for you, kicking her foot against the ground softly. Nervously.

“Yeah,” you said lamely. She nodded for a second, before looking down at her feet. You wanted to run away. 

“What are you-”

“I just wanted to-”

Both of you tried to speak at the same time. You immediately crossed your arms across your chest, partially for warmth, mostly because you felt really fucking awkward. 

“Uh, go ahead,” she gestured at you to continue speaking. 

“Oh, I, uh- was just going to ask…uh, what you were doing. Out here,” you stammered a bit, trying to gauge her expression. Fuck, she was hard to read. 

“Well, my house is that way,” she pointed behind you. “So, I gotta walk…this way…” she trailed off, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. 

“Right,” you nodded, shivering slightly as a breeze swept between the two of you. You didn’t really want to hear what she was going to say. 

“Are you cold?” She asked, eyes suddenly soft. 

“Well I’m not exactly warm,” you quipped, but it didn’t have much weight to it. The corner of Ellie��s mouth twitched up slightly, but her face remained neutral. 

“Do you want to come over?” 

You felt faint. You felt like crying. You felt like saying no. You felt like saying yes. But you couldn’t say anything, so you just nodded instead. 

Ellie gave you her jacket, after weak protest. It smelled like how your tent does on a warm summer night in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the stars and the peaceful whisper of wind through the trees—also like weed, and that amber aroma that seemed to be trapped in her pores. 

She didn’t say a single word to you, after that. Just walked, wordlessly beside you on the familiar path to her house. You tried to regulate your breathing, tried to push aside the questions that ran through your brain like, why is Ellie here, walking me to her house when she could be having dinner with Cat? And also, where is Cat? 

Ellie’s house smelled exactly as you remembered it, though, the scent was mildly soured when you suddenly remembered that Cat lived here, too. The warm air against your cold skin made you shiver slightly as you shrugged off Ellie’s coat in the entryway—of course, she was by your side in an instant, grabbing it from you before throwing it over the rack. It was still silent as the two of you kicked off your shoes, before Ellie turned to look at you. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” You weren’t sure why she was asking you. You were already shoe-less, in her entryway. 

“Lead the way,” you found yourself saying. Just like the first time. 

Ellie’s room still smelled the same, too. Earthy and rich, dreamy and intoxicating. You felt high already. Your brain was spinning, your heart racing, your hands slightly shaky. Ellie sat down on the edge of her bed, leaving plenty of room for you—if you ever stopped hovering near the door. 

“You can sit, you know,” Ellie said after a moment, smiling softly at you. An invitation. You swallowed. What the fuck are you doing here? 

But then you were sitting, next to her, just this close to touching her leg with your own. You didn’t look at her. It felt like middle school. It felt exciting. It felt so fucking confusing. 

“So, I thought you were going to dinner with Cat. What happened?” Your mouth was moving before your brain could stop you, and Ellie practically flinched at your words. She regained herself quickly, though.

“Oh, I didn’t really want to go out. I’m just a little tired,” she said, pulling her legs up onto the bed and crossing them beneath her.

“If you’re tired then what am I doing here?” You asked. Her eyes widened a bit.

“Well, I mean- I’m not that tired, I just- didn’t want to go out anywhere, you know?” 

No, you didn’t really. 

“Yeah,” you said instead. She was getting harder to read by the second. You shrunk back a bit, drawing your legs up onto the bed and leaning against the headboard opposite of Ellie. The pause hung heavy, nearly tangible between your bodies.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, looking down at her lap. You watched a loose strand of hair fall into her face, and her nose scrunched up. You wanted to brush it away, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath your palm as you caressed her face—

“For what?” You asked, even though you kind of knew. 

“For Cat,” she said quietly. 

“What about her?” 

“She can be kind of…a lot.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” You asked, like you were entitled to that information. Like you’d hung out more than once. 

“No, she’s not.” Ellie was quick to deny, looking back up at you now. Her eyes sparkled in the soft yellow lamplight cascading upon her face. Your throat felt tight. You nodded, pulling your knees into your chest. 

“She used to be.” Ah, there it is. 

“And now she’s your…”

“Roommate.”

“Right.”

Just the other day, Ellie had said she knows all about toxic exes. You didn’t think that meant she literally lived with one. What are you doing here?

“She’s just my roommate, I swear,” she was insistent, leaning forward, trapping you in her gaze. You nodded again. You weren’t sure why she was repeating herself. You glanced at the clock behind her on her desk, which read 10:32pm.

“It’s getting late,” you said weakly, knowing fully well you’d be up until three am. Ellie’s face fell, just slightly. 

“You just got here,” she said, though she wasn’t being much of a great host. 

“You said you were tired.”

“Yeah, but I- well-” she stuttered, picking at her cuticles. 

“It’s okay,” you were saying, though you didn’t know why. It didn’t feel very okay. As soon as your feet hit the ground she was standing up as well, one hand awkwardly snaking into her back pocket as she took a deep breath. 

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm?” She offered. 

“It’s okay. I’ll have Dina meet me somewhere.” You won’t even text her. Ellie didn’t say anything, but she nodded, giving you a smile. 

It didn’t reach her eyes.