#so it’s annoying when so many people who barely know me make those kinds of suggestions bc you DONT know my situation

[prisonpodcast]

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[flower-zombie-rob]

Welcome to day one of how many times can my mother tear me down and destroy my confidence in one go. How many days will this go on? Im not sure! Tune in next time for a brand new episode of Taking Advantage Of My Kids Rejection Sensitivity, youre watching the disney channel.

[seventhemaverick]

Astro Observations 2 🪽

Thank you for 120+ followers!! <3 this post has opinions and personal observations. Don’t take it too serious my babies. I love ur feedback. Please be kind, inform me otherwise!

☁️ I love how many people in the Astrology community are Scorpio risings, have dominant scorpio/8H placements/degrees, strong pluto influence like we’re all trying to find the meaning to all the f*ck shit that happens in our lives

☁️ Another dominance that I see in a natal chart that is really into these practices is Uranus and Neptune.

☁️ Lilith dominance in a natal chart can be rough especially when they make conjunctions to mars or Pluto. Men can sometimes be so mean to you especially when you both are around other people and you’re just like what just happened 😃? You were just telling me your deepest secrets and desires?? Odd… Á la poubelle 🚮

☁️ Speaking of Lilith, I get annoyed hearing that certain asteroids like Lilith and Chiron aren’t considered a part of a stellium 🙄 because if you can have Lilith dominance in your chart you should be able to consider it a part of your stellium as well? Same with Chiron. If there’s many aspects to those signs as well and if everything is energetically interconnected like astrology tries to show us, you would think those two asteroids at most would be considered. Especially because these asteroids play significant roles in HEALING *cough Chiron cough* and stepping into your power (Lilith). Both asteroids take a shorter amount of time to orbit the sun than most outer planets and some inner planets likeee cmon y’all.. me complaining because I’d technically have a Sagittarius stellium if Chiron and Lilith was included

☁️ Whatever quadrant(s) the majority of your placements fall in is what you are meant to focus on in this life. In the last quadrant, your focus could be on the world around you, humanitarian causes. A lot of planets in your first quadrant your mission in this lifetime is to be more self focused.

☁️ Intercepted houses are interesting... I’m very thankful I don’t have them because my chart is already 😀😗 .. yea. But I realized I’ve come across a lot of people with them and those houses if you don’t know already have a lot of focus on the house it pertains to. Example: intercepted houses in the 1st and 7th house means one of your life’s mission is learning how to assert yourself, set boundaries, find balance in relationships and your free time.

☁️ People that have intercepted houses usually attract people that has signs that rule those houses to teach them significant life lessons. So if you have 1st and 7th intercepted you’ll have someone who probably has Aries/libra in big three or within their chart , if you have 2nd and 8th you’ll attract someone with Taurus/Scorpio in big three or in their chart etc etc

☁️ If you’re feeling unstable it’s best to connect with the element you have most dominant in your chart. Whether it’s literally connecting to that element by physically interacting with it or you are doing the themes in relation to that element. This also applies to whatever sign your mars is in. Surrounding yourself with the element associated with your mars can allow you to release and ground yourself.

☁️ For instance, if you have a lot of water in your chart/water mars, swimming or being by the water and journaling, drawing, whatever creative outlet feels most healing to you by the water can bring you some peace. Talking to the ocean, lake, etc. can be grounding and if you’re really into esoteric practices you can give the water an offering in exchange for peace of mind. Earth, going on a hike, feeling the earth (not concrete yuck) with your bare soles/palms can be helpful, hugging and talking to trees. (Side note fun fact, removing vines that are wrapping a tree is also like an offering because vines growing around trees are invasive and preventing it from receiving sunlight, ultimately killing it. Save your local trees!! I see this as a form of an offering as well) Mother trees will help you most. Fire, first and foremost please be careful. Secondly, working with candles can be very healing and watching the light, taking walks when it’s really sunny, sun bathing, solar plexus yoga could bring much peace. Sun bathing your yoni when the sun is at its peak :) it really works. Air, burning incense whilst having good air ventilation, journaling, stimulating activities like running or jogging while simultaneously working on the breath. Breath work, mental workouts like chess. I might do a post about all Mars signs and specific activity outlets. Lmk in the comments if you guys would be interested :)

☁️ To break out of your comfort zone, to attract newness into your life, connect with the element you have least in your chart!

☁️ The element you have least of is what you tend to attract in others

☁️ People that connect more to sidereal astrology usually have some old soul-ness to them. I’ve observed it’s usually modern Astrology earth placements, mostly Taurus placements that tend to value that system more from what I’ve seen

☁️ I’ve noticed water sign placements/dominance like anime and k-pop a lot. Honorary mention is Aquarius but more towards anime.

☁️ I saw @harmoonix say this in one of their posts recently but this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month so I’m gonna agree and add on lol (love ur posts fr— trendsetter 💐) Aquarius placements, especially in the big 3, love video games. Love playing games on their phone and on a console. Love technology, it’s their safe space— a way to get away from the world. Aquarius does rule over technology! They’re the most tech savvy in the family. Their elders in their home relied on them for that stuff lol.

☁️ Sagittarius placements, esp mercury usually have different genres and languages of music in their catalog

☁️ For Sagittarius to be in detriment in Mercury that placement has many fantastic writers, poets, lyricists etc.

☁️ Earth placements, especially Capricorns can out smoke you. Out-any-substance you fr it’s actually crazy to witness 😂😂.

☁️ Your Groom (5129) or Briede (19029) in your natal chart can not only show the actual sign or house placements that your partner may have but the synastry overlays you both may have as well. For example you may have your groom asteroid in the sign virgo. Your spouses natal placements especially big 3 could have those planets fall into your sixth house. Virgo rules the sixth house.

☁️ This picture above is all Libra placements during this south node in Libra transit. The area Libra resides will show up and out! Villain era fr. Big 3 Libra placements will feel this way the most! This transit has me not giving ANY f*cks!

☁️ Your solar return rising sign is very important. It will tell you the themes that will take place in the new year ahead. For example: Virgo rising in your solar return has you more work and health focused. Should I make a post about solar return risings lmk in the comments!

☁️ It’s also interesting that your rising and moon sign in your solar return chart can pertain who you most come into contact with during. So if your rising is Leo that year you’ll probably befriend, get closer to, date many Leo’s or people that have Leo placements/degrees in their chart :). I can confirm that within each ascendant I have had in my returns since studying astrology the people I was closer to/in contact more with during the time period had those placements in big three especially.

☁��� not an observation but a statement of a dilemma of mine because I cannot choose between placidus and whole sign system. I deeply relate to both. I thankfully don’t have intercepted houses but I can see both sides to the placements in my chart and the different houses they reside in with both systems 😂 ok moving on

☁️ I use placidus house system mostly when I’m reading other people’s chart and whole sign when I’m reading compatibility charts

☁️ placidus is a better system to use for most people because we live in different hemispheres and that system caters to that imo

☁️ I realize most Pisces and Sagittarius placements loveeee green. It’s that Jupiter calling in that abundance!

☁️ Scorpio and Aries are ruled by mars and I have realized people with these placements like purple a lot. Capricorn placements tend to like purple too and cap is exalted in mars! Purple and black are associated with satur(n)day!

☁️ Saw an observation about sag mercuries always interrupt you and it’s true LMAO but they’re very passionate people and I think they just wanna get what they have to say off their chest

☁️ Sagittarius mercuries are the smartest Mercury sign imo.

☁️ Pisces placements especially in the big three are very crafty when it comes to talking their way out of being held accountable

☁️ Being around people that have the signs in your 2nd and 8th house can easily trigger you if you’re not actively working on healing your wounds

☁️ I haven’t met an air sign that doesn’t speak with their face and hands especially Gemini chile

☁️ Mars rules celibacy, Venus rules lust. I realize that people with strong Aries/Scorpio/Capricorn are not into having sex with multiple people simultaneously or can go long periods without having sex. They view sex as a very intimate activity.

☁️ hate to come down on my Venusians but Taurus and Libras and let’s not forget about my girl is exalted in Pisces! People with strong placements in these signs can be loyal but sometimes there can be wandering eyes. Like an itch they want to scratch so bad. Even if they’re very loyal in nature it’s more possible for them to flirt for fun or get into affairs more because they’re hedonistic in nature

☁️ when a Capricorn loves you they will always have your back and put into you financially to help your dreams come true. One of the most attentive , supportive people to have in your corner!

🪽 I wanted to post this sooner but I’m currently grieving the loss of my Capricorn dominant grandmother who was my closest confidant and greatest inspiration, about a month ago. She passed during her Saturn return and Uranus return. She lived an incredible life. Strongest, most fearless person I know. An entrepreneur who knew how to get it! Some people didn’t make it into the new year with us and I hope you know that you have now gained an angel. I’m grateful to the Tumblr astrology community for sharing their knowledge. Astrology really helps me make sense of the world and I’m happy that we all find peace in that. Sending my love and best wishes to you all. Thank you for reading and tuning in xoxo 🪽

[conelluwrites]

the red means i love you

Reader/Doppelgänger Francis (main focus on the doppelgänger aspect) (reader goes by she/her and is described with vaginal terms)

posted on my AO3

word count: 2.6k

title from The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley

Contains: monster fucking (doppelgänger fucking), headcanon design for non-disguised doppels, barbed dick, breeding, and blood drinking

You let the wrong one in, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems when you invite him back to your apartment.

“Mmm…”  The voice sounds uncanny, too similar to Francis with the slightest hint of a purr that the tired milkman would never express, “I’m rather thankful that you let me in earlier, you know?”  His uniform is clean and tidy, well put together in a way that Francis would never be able to achieve due to his early morning risings.  His hair is just barely out of place.  Things that no one would notice-- things that make her wish that she had called Francis’ apartment to see if he was home.

“W-Wha-!”  The doorman stumbles back in fear, causing her to bump her back into the chest of the doppelgänger who all too readily wraps his arms around her waist.  One of his hands trails down her rigid arm and grabs the hand of hers that is trembling its way towards the phone.  Even if he didn’t intervene, the D.D.D. would not arrive in time to prevent any damages, he was in the safety room.  His fingertips are inhuman, too sharp but not yet undisguised, as they intertwine with her own to prevent her from dialing the number she memorized so easily.

“Shhh, shhh…  There’s no reason for you to be afraid.”  He coos, brushing his nose against the exposed flesh of her neck.  “No need to scream, no need to squirm, no need to put up a fight…”  His voice is velvety but now lacks the tiredness the real Francis carries.  It’s not surprising that he’s giving up his disguise piece by piece, she assumes that it must take some level of effort to be so near-perfectly disguised and she knows at this point she’s utterly fucked.  “I could take you away from this annoying position forever if you want.  No pesky D.D.D. agents, no more anxiety from our kind, no more living in fear.  Sounds pretty nice, hm?”  His free hand goes to hold her chin, his sharp thumb slightly digging into her jawline.

“But I gotta protect my neighbors.  My job-- sitting here and looking at everyone and their documents, it might suck at times but it keeps everyone safe.”  She says, her voice trembling.  Her throat is bone dry from fear, her chest aches from the uneven breathing leaving her slightly open lips.

“Oh, my dear, that’s such a noble sentiment.”  The doppelgänger sighs dramatically before shaking his head.  He spins her around in his grasp, the hand that was holding hers goes to her waist.  His fingers trace along her jawline, making sure to keep a gentle, but firm, grip on her so she cannot try to escape.  There’s a bright grin on his face, his teeth too white to be human.  “But how many times have they let you down?  Surely they have failed you before.  People are fickle creatures; they don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone.  I promise to protect you, sweetheart, just let me stay with you tonight, hm?”

Her mind races, so many thoughts of her own death and the death of her neighbors.  “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”  The answer is obvious-- if the doppel were going to hurt her, he already would have.  He’s stronger than her, stronger than any human and she’s still in his grasp.  If he wanted to maim her, he would have already.  “You doppelgängers just want to kill and eat us.”

“Ah, you misunderstand me, darling!  I could never harm a hair on your lovely head.”  The doppelgänger earnestly insists.  His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, trying to so lovingly convince her.  “All I want is to hear more stories about your day and listen to those sweet little fears of yours…  And yes, perhaps indulge myself in some delicious blood as well.”  He’s whispering intimately, as if they’re a pair of lovers.  The grip on her waist tightens slightly but remains mostly gentle, it’s almost comforting despite the sharp nails against her shirt.  “C’mon… please trust me.”

“But I-”  her voice dies out the longer she allows herself to fall into the illusion of mutual trust.

“It’s okay, my love,” he murmurs understandingly, “don’t overthink things, hm?”  He kisses her temple tenderly, a perfect imitation of love between humans.  His eyes flicker towards the phone, allowing even himself to dream of a different world where he could whisk her away and keep her all to himself.  “Let’s just go for now, let’s go somewhere private where no one can bother us.”

She relents easily, tearing her gaze from his face and allowing it to travel down the white uniform before making its way back up to his face.  “My apartment is on the first floor.  We… We can go there together.  We don’t have to worry about others seeing us, everyone else is in for the night.”

Francis’ grin grows even more, his canines growing sharper than any humans can be naturally, “That sounds perfect.”  He sounds appreciative, leading him gently to the door to exit the safety room.  The walk to the apartment is short.  As the apartment door closes, the intensity changes slightly; he is watching her carefully while also taking the new space.  “Nice place.  So cozy…”

“Thank you….” She murmurs. “I figured it’s safer for you to be here than anywhere else in the complex.”

Francis’ doppelgänger hums thoughtfully before nodding in agreement.  After the brief exchange, he takes the opportunity to explore the small apartment, touching things lightly as if trying to understand their purpose and history though touch alone.  Every movement exudes confidence in his decision-making process, evaluating the potential of each object.  “You’re so brave, you know.  C’mere.”

She walks over to him hesitantly and stands there.  The doppelgänger is taller than her.  Despite it all, since he’s imitating one of her neighbors that she’s rather fond of, she feels herself relaxing.  He wraps an arm around her waist casually, pulling her close while leaning down until their hands nearly touch.  He inhales deeply, enjoying the warmth that a human being brings.  He drawings circles on his back with his free hand.  He continues to lean down slowly -- closer and closer to her neck.  Her breath hitches as his nose finally meets her neck.  Her hands meet his waist and tighten slightly, crinkling his shirt.  Adrenaline is racing through her body, making her tremble slightly but she refuses to pull away.  The way the doppelgänger rubes and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck is the sweetest thing she’s experienced recently.

The doppelgänger lets out a satisfied rumble, savoring the sensation of her trembling beneath his touch.  If anyone saw them now, they’d assume it was two lovers locked in passion.  His lips brush against the skin he finds lightly before he stops abruptly.  “Promise me something -- promise that you won’t run away.”

“...”  She considers his words carefully.  Every primal instinct in her is begging her to run, to get away as fast as she can.  But she hasn't and, to be honest to herself, she doesn’t want to.  She’s rather content staying like this, being in his arms with his face buried in her neck.  She know he could bite her, sink sharp teeth in her neck and finish her life in less than a second, but she finds herself trusting that he won’t.  “ I promise.”

“Good girl.”  He praises softly, finally giving into temptation and pressing his teeth gently against her neck.  Not hard enough to yet draw blood, just merely teasing her.  His arm tightens around her as the gravity of her promise fully settles between the pair.  The danger she’s in never fully dissipates but mixes well with the affection he’s showing her.  “You deserve a reward for trusting me.”

“Oh?  Like what?” She asks, her grip on him loosening as her body adapts to the unfamiliar situation.

Francis’ doppelgänger chuckles, the vibrations tickling her neck.  “Don’t fret, just something that will make us both happy.”  With a groan, he allows his disguise to slip further and further, his teeth sharpening.  They puncture her skin ever so slightly, blood trickles immediately out of the small wounds.  With a satisfied hum, he pulls away and licks his lips, allowing blood to pool.  “Just relax, enjoy this moment.”  She struggles out a broken moan; it’s not necessarily painful but it reminds her of how weak and vulnerable she is in the moment, a feeling that is intoxicating.  “Relax.” he murmurs against her skin soothingly.  There was no aggression or hunger driving him, it was just to provide nutrients for him to continue his time with her.  Slowly yet deliberately, he licks up the collected droplets while sucking lightly on the wound.  He alternates between suckling and licking the wounds, moaning.

“Y’gonna leave a hickey on me.” She sighs out, her body relaxing even further.

“Only for me to look at later.”  He promises, his breath hot on her dampened flesh.  The rhythm slows down until it stops altogether and he pulls away.  Slowly and carefully, he raises his gaze to meet hers.  “Now tell me more about those annoying D.D.D. agents.”

“I don’t know much about them, to be honest.  They don’t hang around after the cleaning procedure and they don’t talk to me aside from congratulating me on living another way.”  She says, swiping a bit of her own blood from his lips with his thumb.

“You should know more than that.”  He growls. “We could use your help some day.”

“We?  You want me to help the doppelgängers?”

“Of course.  Someone like you, someone so skilled at calling us out…  You could be helpful in our cause.”

“I don’t believe that’s such a worthy cause…” She murmurs, resting her head against his chest.  His heartbeat is inhuman, too slow to be human, but it’s relaxing.  “Though…”

“Though?  You would be safe -- you’d be part of our family.  Perhaps one day I could introduce you to some of the ones I’m closest to.”

“Mm.”  She weighs his words carefully.  In a disturbing, unacceptable way, it’s almost sweet.  “I suppose that, as long as I’m protected by you, I’d be honored to meet them.  Does that make us mates?”

“Indeed.”  Silence stretches between them for a moment.  “In our world, we share souls upon consummation.”  He stares into her eyes after the statement, gauging her reaction based on his customs.

“Ah, like marriages for humans then?  Do you want to consummate our bond?”

The doppelgänger stiffens slightly at first before relaxing.  “Yes.  But we must proceed cautiously.”

“Why’s that, my love?  Is your genitalia that different?”  She asks, leaning up to nuzzle her nose against his for a moment before pulling away and going to stroke his cheek softly.  The skin is rubbery and like ice against her fingers.

“Hm…  No, not quite.”  There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, he allows her mind to wander with possibilities.  “Our release is also quite different, I believe.  Is that okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment, allowing herself time to fully comprehend the possibilities ahead of her. “Yes.  I want to be your mate, so please…  mate with me the way doppelgängers do.”  Francis’ doppelgänger feels a surge of triumph.  The transformation starts gradually as he allows himself to rip through his disguise.  The clothes rip and tatter, falling to the ground around him as she lets him go, allowing him to fully transform.  Glistening black scales peek through skin like moonlight reflecting off ocean waves, his fingers grow out to sharp daggers, his arms and legs elongate as his muscles tense.  His teeth barely fit in his mouth, the sharp points poking slightly over his lips.  His cock is impossibly thick and long, tiny barbs lining the sides as it oozes black pre-cum.  He lifts her effortlessly, his hands on her ass as he carries her to her bedroom and places her gently on the bed.

“Lie back.”  He commands quietly, watching every breath he takes with anticipation and hunger.  She lays back, obediently as he hovers over her patiently.  There’s no shame or hesitation in his gaze as his hand travels up her shirt to lift it over her head.  She tugs off her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties.  His gaze is full of pride.  “You’re mine now, my soulmate.”

“You’re perfect.”  She says softly, cupping his face and kissing his monstrous face lovingly.  Her lips meet his rough lips and pointed teeth.  She winces preemptively as his sharp claws make easy work of her panties, tugging on the fabric until it tears away and reveals her glistening sex.  The thick, black sludge lubricates his cock, making it ease into her cunt slowly and easily despite its grand size.  She feels the tiny barbs grow slightly, just enough to dig into her walls to prevent her from squirming away or resisting.

He hisses appreciatively at the compliment and the feeling of her heat enveloping her slowly.  “You’re tight.”  He grunts out raggedly, thrusting deep.  The sensation matches beast-like intensity, every movement echoing throughout the small bedroom.

“Hah, you’re bigger than I expected.  So fuckin’ thick.” She pants out, her cunt swallowing his cock with little resistance.  “I was scared about the bars, but shit…  your cock is so perfect for me.”  The doppelgänger lets out an animalistic moan at her declaration, his thrusts becoming more aggressive and intense.

“That’s it!  Take everything I got!”  He exclaims hoarsely, nails digging into her hips.  “Answer me, would you want children?”  He gasps urgently.  Despite the heaviness of the question he posed, he keeps pushing relentlessly -- seeking assured release.

“I-I-!  Yes!  I want to swell with your young.”  She says lovingly, moaning.

He roars at his words, bowing low to catch her lips.  The kiss is filled with dominance and ownership.  “Perfect.”  He growls into her mouth, shifting positions easily so she’s on top of him.  “Ride me until we’re done.”

She straddles him easing, wincing as the shift in positioning digs his barbs deep into her cunt.  “Fuck, baby…”  She breathes out, her hands on his chest.  Her hips raise up and down rapidly despite her legs trembling greatly.

“Let me see those pretty eyes looking into mine.”  He orders hoarsely.  He hisses as her cunt adjusts.  The pain she felt was only temporary, but served its purpose well: reminding her whose body she was riding, a dangerous creature holding immense power over her.  His own gaze burned with need and desperation, pleading silently for satisfaction.  

She looks into his eyes obediently, so full of adoration for the monster.  “I-I-...”  Her breath hitches, she can’t finish her sentence.  She’s too embarrassed to admit her love for him.  Instead, she leans down to kiss him.  Her soft lips meeting his rough, uneven ones.

“Say it.  Tell me how much we mean to each other.”  He demands huskily.  His barbs grow slightly more, haling her movements for a single second.  It’s a sign of his nearing climax that’s mirrored by her frantic movements once she adjusts to the growth.

“I love you, fuck, I love you!”  She moans loudly.  Her cunt begins to quiver and massage his cock.  “Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me.”  She whimpers as his barbs dig in even more as her tight walls convulse around him.  Suddenly she can feel a torrent of his dark, murky cum release deep into her cunt.  His cock swells greatly, making her gasp and cum around him.  Her slick dribbles down his cock and coats him.  Her body slowly relaxes as his barbs retract but he remains swollen.  She lays limp against him, breathing heavily.

He roars hoarsely, pumping several times harder with his thickened cock.  He remains still, breathing heavily with his arms tight around her as he lays on his side, holding her tight to his chest.  It’ll take several minutes for his cock to decrease in size, but it’s unlikely that either of the two will be awake.  “Our bond is sealed.”  He rasps against her ear, nuzzling gently against sensitive skin.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

All I had - Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Requested: No well I lowkey did

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: After his girlfriend y/n is killed, Mattheo has to deal not only with pain and sorrow, but also cruel accusations (complete original prompt here)

Word count: long as hell 2.4K

Warnings: mentions of death, lost, and grief

A/N: When I had this idea a few weeks ago I didn't think it would actually be so hard to write and I hate it lol :) I can't remember for the life of me if people in universe know Voldemort wants to be immortal, so for this one be an angel and pretend they do :) Might write a part two with a certain someone if many people ask 👀. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Hogwarts, 1997.

The two Aurors were walking right behind him, firmly holding his arms to prevent him from running. Run where? he thought. Not that he had somewhere to go. Snape, who had always looked at Mattheo and his brother with an annoying suspicion, was walking ahead of them, his robes floating behind him. Mattheo didn’t know where they were going, or why. Not that he actually cared. Even though the Auros were leading his movements, his legs still seemed to be carrying him on their own, and if he didn’t try to resist, protest or at least ask questions to the silent Aurors, it was only because he didn’t have any energy or will to do so. Everything, including his body, felt numb and his mind was clouded, not functioning properly at all, barely noticing or hearing what was happening around him, instead full of the events of the night, as if it was trying to look for a reason. The only thing he could feel was the grip of the Aurors on his upper arms, the painful dryness of his blurry eyes, his throat sore from crying, his still wet cheeks, and this feeling of unbearable pain, anguish and confusion inside his chest.

After walking through countless corridors, they finally arrived in a smaller corridor, where Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were apparently expecting them. It often came as a surprise to those who didn’t know, but Mattheo actually held great respect for the old headmaster. How could he not? He was the only person his father had ever feared. Dumbledore was still the same as usual, looking calm and serene, while McGonagall looked at Mattheo with what seemed to be sadness. As they came closer, Mattheo saw a simple gray door on the right, which suddenly opened. 

“Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore said with a calm, almost kind voice, and Mattheo only raised his eyes towards him for a quarter of a second before looking at the ground again, “I will have to ask you to sleep here tonight. If you are in need of anything, please feel free to ring the bell. But I assure you, everything will be alright.”

‘Alright’? Mattheo would have laughed if he could. Behind him, the Auror snigged. Mattheo didn’t speak a word, and when he turned to pass the door, he saw Snape give him a more suspicious look than before. He managed to enter the room, which was a rudimentary bedroom with a bed, two chairs around a small rounded table with a small golden bell on it, and a sink. No window whatsoever, only a few candles floating in the air and drawing shadows on the walls. 

“If you wish to turn the candles off, just ask them to sleep,” Dumbledore told him.

“We will be back in the morning,” one of the Aurors told the Headmaster, and then the door closed abruptly, leaving Mattheo completely alone with his thoughts and the cold silence of a cold room. 

After a long, boring day of classes, he had spent the evening in y/n’s dorm, talking and cuddling, enjoying the comfort and peace only her could make him feel. Then Theo texted him, asking him if he fancied a smoke. Mattheo initially wanted to refuse, not wanting to leave y/n’s embrace, but she told him to go, that she didn’t want to keep him away from his friends. And so Mattheo went, going to one of the darkest corners of the castle where he and Theo knew they wouldn’t be caught by any professors and especially Filch. But the smoke break lasted much longer than usual, and when Mattheo went back to y/n’s dorm, planning on continuing their night together and eventually falling asleep with her in his arms, he walked by the castle’s courtyard and, in the dark of the night, saw something strange on the courtyard’s ground. Frowning, he had hesitated before slowly walking towards it, curiosity leading his mind. The closer he got, the more the strange “thing” on the ground, the clearer the mass on the ground got, and soon it appeared to be a body. Despite the fear that it might be someone he knew, Mattheo had quickened his pace, and barely a few meters later, he recognized whose body it was.

Oh, God. No, no, please, no. Not this. Anything but this.

At the second he recognized y/n’s body, he ran towards it and fell beside her, immediately holding her to his chest, gently shaking her despite his panic which grew every quarter of a second. 

“y/n?! y/n, can you hear me? Baby?” 

But he didn’t get any answer, and when he checked her pulse, he had almost felt his heart break from the pain. 

“No, no, no, y/n, please! Fuck!”

Tears had started to feel, and he was now screaming. He didn’t know how long he spent here, holding her body as tight as he could, crying like he never thought he ever would and begging her to come back, to not leave him alone, but at one point, someone had seen him, had a loud gasp, and had ran to tell someone. Soon, Professor McGonnagall and two Aurors were here, and they tried to take her from him. He screamed and protested, not wanting to let her go, but they managed to separate them, and Mattheo was then led there, his entire being shattered in pieces and his mind unable to work knowing she was gone. 

Not caring to take off his shoes, Mattheo laid on the bed, and tears started to run down his cheeks. She’s gone, she’s gone, his mind kept screaming, and yet, it refused to accept it.

This is just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. I’m gonna wake up soon. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink or eat, Mr Riddle? Professor Dumbledore insisted.” 

Mattheo barely looked at the Auror sitting on the other side of the metallic table, and kept silent. He could hardly keep his eyes open, too tired from not sleeping at all the night before - and yet not feeling sleepy at all. 

“Well,” the Auror continued, putting a long, thin black bow on the table. “I guess we can start, then. Mr Riddle, do you know why you’re here?” 

Mattheo shook his head. 

“Really?” the other Auror asked, sitting next to his colleague. “No clue? At all?” 

This time, Mattheo raised his eyes towards the two men for a few seconds, and tried not to find weird the way they were looking at him - with disdain, coldness, and something he couldn’t quite get yet - as, after all, a lot of people looked at the son of the Dark Lord with suspicious - Snape included - or even fear, and he got used to it. Why would their eyes matter, when y/n’s eyes looked at him with nothing but love?

And now I won’t ever see them again. Mattheo felt his eyes becoming watery, and tried to fight tears as much as he could. 

“Because y/n is gone,” he said, looking at the table. 

“You’re right,” the Auror on the left said. “But allow me to be more precise, Mr Riddle. Miss y/l/n is gone… because you killed her.”

Mattheo’s mind, still as cloudy as the night before, suddenly cleared up like and working like a machine being turned on. He looked at the two men, and suddenly understood the reason they had been looking at him like that ever since they came into the room a few minutes earlier. They think I’m guilty. 

This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This isn’t real. I’ll wake up any moment and see her sleeping next to me. 

Shock, anger, and a bit of panic and confusion came into him like a gigantic wave. “What? I didn’t kill her! Why the hell would I kill her?” 

This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare.

“Oh, you would be surprised at all the reasons why a man could kill his girlfriend. She caught him cheating, he caught her cheating, she saw something she shouldn’t have seen…” the Auror stopped, and looked at Mattheo with malice. “Or maybe he wants to prove himself to his father.”

If he could, Mattheo would have laughed. Here it is. The “son of the Dark Lord” bullshit. He ran his hand through his hair, and sighed.

“You think I killed y/n because my father asked me?” he asked, trying his absolute best to remain calm. “Why would I have accepted?” 

“Well, you’re the second son. The spare. Your father likely planned for your brother Tom to be his second in command, and, if he were to die, his heir, didn’t he? And then, what do you have left, Mr Riddle? At best, you remain the spare and then your brother’s second in command your whole life, and in the worst case… Nothing.” 

y/n. I would have y/n. 

“Dumbledore told us your father tried to contact you last summer,” the second Auror spoke. 

Mattheo felt annoyance growing inside of him, “and did he also tell you that I refused, and hid from him the whole time?” 

“Yes,” the first Auror admitted. “He did say you told him that. But how can we be sure you didn’t lie?” 

Mattheo closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“So, you guys think I’m a murderer just because my father is? For no other reason than that?”

“Actually, Mr. Riddle, the main reason we do believe that, is because…of that.”

The Auror took the long, thin black bow he had put earlier on the table, and opened it before showing the inside to Mattheo, whose eyes opened in surprise. 

“My wand?” 

“Yes, Mr Riddle, we-”

“I lost it,” Mattheo interrupted with a louder voice, feeling his heart beat faster, “I lost it yesterday sometime after class. Where did you find it?!”

“You lost it?” the Auror asked while crossing his arms, sounding amused, “Well, did you tell anyone? Any teachers?”

“I went to tell Professor Snape,” Mattheo answered, “but he wasn’t in his office. I waited for him for almost an hour but he never came back. My friend Lorenzo saw me, I asked him if he knew where Snape was.”

The Auror shared a look that told Mattheo they already knew Lorenzo had seen him - and yet didn’t believe him.

“Now,” Mattheo continued, more annoyed by the second, “where did you find my wand?” 

“Why, near you, Mr Riddle. When we found you near your victim’s corpse,” the second Auror said as if it was obvious.

The dark-haired boy stared at them in disbelief. “What? No, you’re…You’re lying.”

“And when we used Prior Incantato, we saw that the last spell your wand used was the killing curse.”

“That’s why he brought you here, Mr Riddle”, the second Auror continued immediately. “If we didn’t find your wand near you, our theory wouldn’t be based on anything. We might even have believed you when you’re telling us you didn’t kill miss y/l/n.” 

“I did not kill her!” Mattheo screamed. 

The Auror sighed, “Mr Riddle, please. Out of respect for miss y/l/n and her family, do tell us the truth. They deserve justice.”

“You’re lucky, you know?” the second Auror went on, “If it wasn’t for Professor Dumbledore, you’d be in Azkaban, awaiting your trial.” 

“I’m innocent!” Mattheo yelled, feeling himself going mad. “I told you the truth!”

“Alright,” the Auror said with a loud voice, putting a clenched fist on the table. “If you didn’t do it, then who did?” 

“How would I know?” Mattheo snapped. “I found her body in the courtyard, and I didn’t see anybody else.”

“See? You can’t give us a second option. Our talks with teachers and students told us Miss y/l/n had no enemies, was loved by both classmates and teachers alike, and her parents are good people. No one had a reason to kill her, except for you.”

“We don’t need to know the reasons on why you did it, Mr Riddle,” the first Auror said in an almost kinder, more patient tone. “Even though we have some ideas about the ‘why’. Just admit you did it.”

“Admit you did it because either your father asked you to do it, or because, despite your best efforts to make people believe you’re different from him, the truth is, you’re just like him.”

“I didn’t do it!” Mattheo screamed. “How many do I have to tell you?! I didn’t kill y/n! Someone must have taken my wand and killed her! How can you not see that?!” 

The first Auror sighed, meanwhile the second clenched his jaw. 

“Mr Riddle, y/n-”

“DO NOT USE HER NAME!” Mattheo shrieked. 

But the Auror ignored him, closing his eyes for a second, “y/n had a family, friends, people who loved her, and a whole life with a bright future ahead of her.”

Yes. And all I had was her.

“You took enough from her. Do you take away from her grieving parents the satisfaction that their daughter’s killer is not in prison, paying for his crime.”

Mattheo put his face in his hands, feeling tears burn his eyes. 

“I want to see my brother.” 

“Your brother?” the first Auror asked, and this time he sounded genuinely surprised.   

“Well,” Mattheo spat, raising back his head to stare at the two men, “someone should find y/n’s killer if I’m going to be in Azkaban soon, don’t you think?”

“So you admit it? You killed her?”

“No! For fuck’s sake, no I didn’t kill fucking kill her!” 

They didn’t understand, Mattheo thought with desperation and frustration, putting his head back in his hands. Mattheo couldn’t even remember how life was before he fell in love with y/n during their third year. All he remembered is that two years ago, in their fifth year here, he finally gathered the courage to let her know how he felt, and, by some miracle, this beautiful, sweet witch with a heart of gold felt the same way about him. Ever since, all that was inside his mind was y/n, how his heart, life and soul belonged to her and her only, how she was the only one to not see him as Voldemort’s son but how he really was instead, how she was always there for him, especially when he started feeling anxious when his father came back after the Triwizard Tournament, and how their kisses, their hugs and cuddles and sleeping with her in his arms were the most important things to him. And now, he had lost it all. 

The two Aurors suddenly rose from their chairs, and left the room, leaving Mattheo alone with his broken heart and nonfunctioning mind. 

This is a nightmare, this is a nightmare.

PART 2

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Masterlist

[nochukoo97]

new beginnings

pairing: ceo!jungkook x figureskater!oc

warnings/summary: oc takes up a new job as a cashier, and she gets a CAT, jk is a little grumpy but he gets better, he’s also annoying by calling oc’s cat a cottonbud LOL, he calls her sweetheart, and oc has a little crushy crush on this hot neighbour, they bump into each other three times, basically they’re destined to meet each other even when they barely know each other

word count: 2.4k+ / TAGLIST OPEN

series masterlist!

“Goddamn, how many pieces of clothing do you own?” Yeji grunts as she helps to pull along two of your suitcases into her apartment’s lift.

“It’s all costumes for my competitions, my coach keeps insisting to keep them in case we need it in the future,” You internally sigh at the thought of your coach, she wasn’t bad by all means, but she constantly pushed you to your limits with countless competitions she enrolled you in. But after all, you didn’t come to Seoul and join the national team expecting a smooth and comfortable journey.

“Anyways, you’ve gotta tap the card right here,” She explains the whole crazy security system here, then passes you the access card to the apartment. One week ago you would’ve probably not expected to be in this situation, now moving in with your best friend, as well as her boyfriend who has begun to sleepover at her place more often than necessary. But right now if it meant that less money would fall out of your bank account, putting up with whatever third-wheeling you were about to go through would make it all worth it.

You pull your other two suitcases into the lift, noticing a man shuffling into the corner to make space for the two of you and your four huge suitcases. The lift door closes and there’s this deafening silence that fills the lift, with the way Yeji widens her eyes at you but says nothing, you assume it might be about the latter standing in the corner of the lift.

“What kind of signals were you trying to send me in there?” You whine when the lift door finally closes, as Yeji abandons the now-rolling-away suitcases to grab onto your hands.

“It’s rolling!” You exclaim, as she jumps slightly, your voice raising a little louder than usual in panic.

“Sorry-sorry, anyways, he’s the guy I told you about! Maybe I can set you up with him,” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, giving you the same taunting look she did when she had proposed moving into her apartment.

“No! I don’t even know that man, anyways with those looks he might already be taken,” You brush your best friend off, anyways, you didn’t want a relationship right? When Yeji had told you about the hot guy in her apartment, you had immediately brushed the idea of being set up off, since that’s exactly how you met your ex, and it definitely did not end on a good note.

“Oh, so you’re attracted to him?” She jogs in front of you to look you in the eye, seemingly much more excited at her sudden discovery than you.

“What? No I didn’t say that? I just- whatever! Open the door!”

She only smirks at your stuttering, but complies as she opens the front door to her unit, and you’re greeted with a familiar sight that you now need to get used to calling home.

-

People had always praised you for being dainty and sweet, always dressed up in elegant costumes during your competitions, your moves on ice had always charmed the audience with how smooth you twirled and jumped.

You would like to say that they might change their minds when they spot you in this current situation: no makeup on, eyebags peeking through, in a neon green vest as you stare at the rows of cigarettes behind the cashier.

The younger you would have never expected to end up working part time in this convenience store, but here you are.

But somehow it didn’t seem too bad, you were the only worker here, besides a sweet lady who comes and sweeps the floor every evening, and the best part: you got to control the music.

To be honest, you may have been enjoying yourself a little too much with the way you hum to the music as you drink the complimentary-one-a-day coffee your manager had given you.

“One pack of menthol,” Your sudden peace is abruptly disrupted as you whip your head around, jumping slightly as you hear the voice sound from behind you.

Oh. It’s the same man from the lift, this time he’s wearing another suit in a different colour, but this time he seems much more drained than before.

“I said-” He repeats himself again, noticing your spaced out look as you stare straight at him.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry sorry, it’s been a long day,” You quickly gather yourself, mentally cursing yourself for checking out the man in front of you so shamelessly, but he only scoffs at your little mistake.

He’s either a total dickhead or is just having a bad day. Hopefully its the latter since as much as you hate to admit it, maybe he perhaps has caught your attention.

But the same man quickly walks out of the store the moment you return his black credit card, as you’re now once alone in the store, gathering your things to finally end your shift.

-

It’s only a few days later where you meet your next crisis, or rather a blessing in disguise.

An innocent trip to the local fair turned into you signing adoption papers for this fluffy little furball that you absolutely could not leave. To be fair, you were mainly there to find some cute accessories to buy, but the newly put up adoption booth had caught your eye.

The moment your eyes had met the beady little eyes of the small white cat, you couldn’t say no. Even if it meant paying thrice your income from working at the convenience store, anything would be worth this cat.

But then again, your heart sank further once the lady at the counter had told you the animals put up were free to adopt, or else they would be euthanised the following day. It almost made you attempt to calculate just how much it would cost to take care of all the animals here, but in the end you had settled to just bring the cat home.

“Yeji, hypothetically how mad would you be on a scale of 1 to 10 if I brought a cat home?” You press your phone in between your shoulder and cheek as you wrap the little cat in its blanket, snuggling the animal close to your chest in hopes to provide it more warmth.

“You’re kidding me right now,” You hear her sigh at the other end, “What makes you think we can raise a cat? Let alone you working night shifts and being out at training in the day?”

She wasn’t wrong, but you’re pretty sure it’ll all be okay.

“Trust me, the lady managing the adoption booth told me cats are way more independent, we can get her an automatic feeder and I’ll need to get a litter box too, and maybe some toys and treats on the side too…”

She sighs again, “And that’ll cost a gajillion dollars, where are you going to get that from?”

“I’ll find a way, trust me,”

-

Truth to be told, the package deal you had got for litter and food was a little more pricey than you had anticipated, but you were confident that it would save you money in the future anyways.

Cloud, the newly named cat, of which you spent many hours deciding on a name for her, was easier to handle than expected, she often played with the little gadget toy Yeji had got her, and learnt how to use her litterbox in a day, which made you come to a conclusion that you had raised a genius.

But yet your oh-so-smart furkid may also be a little too intelligent, the absence of a certain cat in the apartment has now caused your anxiety and hysteria.

“How did she manage to escape with us not noticing again! The last time I saw her crawl through your legs but this time I swear she disappeared into thin air!” You’re on the verge of tears as you tell Yeji, who only rubs her palm up and down your back as a offering of comfort.

“But you’ve got her tagged up, your number and her name is attached to her collar, I’m sure anyone who finds her will definitely call you immediately,” She tells you, watching as you now begin to hiccup, tears forming and rolling down your cheeks.

“What if she got run down by a car? Or some psychopath who hates cats found her? Oh my poor baby, she must be missing me already,” There’s a million different scenarios that play through your head, all leading to Cloud ending up in nowhere else but cat heaven.

“She’ll be fine, calm down, my friend’s cat often runs out of the house but the cat always returns every few days, some of them prefer to go out and explore, perhaps Cloud is the same,”

You can only sigh and hope for the best.

-

unknown number: hey

unknown number: did you lose a cat?

You gasp to yourself when your eyes scan the new text that had appeared on your screen, someone had found her.

you: YES

you: DON’T DO ANYTHING TO HER PLEASE

you: i promise ill pay anything for you not to do anything

Your heart beats frantically in your chest watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again. There was no way a psychopath had truly found Cloud and already decided to perform whatever possible traumatic procedure on her right?

unknown number: why would i do anything to it??

unknown number: in fact your cat is the one who had run into my apartment and marked her territory all over.

Oh. That was the last thing you had expected.

you: do you have a litter box in your house?

The three dots taunt you as they appear once and pause for a good minute, as if whoever is on the other side is pondering hard to answer your simple question.

unknown number: what kind of question is that??

unknown number: i dont own a cat, why tf would i own a litter box??

You frown at the reply, you were grateful he didn’t do anything to Cloud, but a simple no would be great.

you: just send me your address!!

you: i need to see if she’s alright, she probably is crying for me right now

unknown number: it’s sleeping peacefully under my bed right now, i dont think its upset at all.

unknown number: here’s the address: xxx

You sigh in relief when you realise it’s the unit above your apartment, which meant she couldn’t have gone too far.

you: first of all, you never know if she’s crying in her heart

you: second of all, stop calling Cloud an it!!! she has a name and she is a girl

you: third of all, im coming upstairs im in the same apartment complex

You roll your eyes when a reply comes in faster than it did before, mostly because it’s an insult to your cat:

unknown number: who names a cat cloud?? she looks more like a cotton bud, hurry and get her.

-

When you reach the floor above you, you’re met with a black door, no doorbell in sight. So you simply knock, sure that it had been the person that found Cloud since it was the only unit on the floor.

What you didn’t expect is to be met with the same man you saw whilst working at the convenience store. Instead he’s in a loose shirt and some shorts, hair not styled as a few pieces of bangs fall over his eyes. His presence daunts you a little, considering how darkly lit his place was, and how he towered over you.

“Oh? So we meet again,” He seems to recognise you as he steps aside, watching as you take off your bedroom slippers, which you now curse at yourself for wearing since it was pink and fluffy.

You think you hear a little laugh when he spots your slippers but you choose to believe he didn’t anyways.

“Where is my baby?” You step in now, taking in the view of his place. It’s a little larger than Yeji’s apartment, and the interior seems… lacking some colour. It’s mostly black and grey furniture, with hints of marble and some white chairs here and there, but it’s a total opposite of your apartment.

“Don’t think she cares enough to be your baby, but your baby pissed all over my balenciaga shoes and my dumbbells,” He deadpans, nodding his head to show you the dark pair of shoes that now hang at the window, you assume to dry them out.

“Your what shoes?!” You almost turn pale at the mention of the designer brand, there’s no way he might ask you to get him a new pair right?

“Forget about that, go and get Cottonbud out of my room,” He walks into the hallway, looking back once to check if you follow him.

“What did you just call her?!” You yell at him from behind as he enters a room, a bed coming into sight and a much too familiar tail that sticks out from under the bed.

“Cloud!” You’re far too busy attempting to reunite with your cat to bother hearing another reply from the man, but the moment you come closer to the swaying tail, Cloud dashes away from your grasp and hides at the very deep end from under the bed.

“Looks like someone isn’t too keen on seeing you,”

You whip around, a frown on your face as you are met with the man who smirks, almost taunting you.

“Shut up,”

“What’re you gonna do now then? The cat’s gone further under the bed, I can’t reach there either,” He has his hands on his hips, standing and waiting for your reply.

His gaze and posture makes you feel small, and not having a single clue what to do fuels this feeling in you. And perhaps add some butterflies in too and it’ll perfectly describe how you are feeling.

“I- I don’t know! I’ve never had to deal with this situation before!” You’re pacing up and down, glancing at the bed, hoping Cloud would magically pop out and leap into your arms so you can run home away from this man.

“Well I’ve got all day sweetheart, you can slowly find a way to get Cottonbud out of my house,”

“Her name is not Cottonbud!”

“Whatever,”

TAGLIST: @skzthinker @cherrysainttt @vminkookgf @lilaissa @jjeonjjk7 @armystay89 @canyon-lwt @junecat18

[guiltysungho]

— bad idea right ?!

genre : tags. fluff, brother’s best friend, enemies to lovers(?), teasing, slightly suggestive, sex mentioned

pairing. brother’s bsf!han dongmin x gn!reader

wordcount. 0.6k

a/n. written in the dead of the night. i feel like taesan is just the most flirty in the most teasing way. here’s part 2 if you even care.

It was bad enough that you constantly had to see him because of your brother but now you also had to share a room with the guy?

You didn’t hate Dongmin, you just didn’t particularly like him, you had your reasons. He was what some would call a serial lover, he was on a roll, he had dated most girls, enough guys, and a bunch in between but that wasn’t why. You could have accepted him if he didn’t date your closest friend therefore ruining your relationship because she had convinced herself you were seeing him. It could be argued that had nothing to do with Dongmin and more to do with her self esteem but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Are you going to stand there the whole time?” he asks tired of ignoring your presence, it had been 30 minutes since your brother left with his girlfriend, he was the one who planned the trip so he went for the cheapest option which was a single room for four, except it was two queen sizes and so you just had to figure it out.

You sighed propping yourself on the bed where your brother slept. Dongmin didn’t seem bothered by it but he was a master at sleeping with people so it bare counted as anything,

“I’m not going to fuck you” you glare at him on the bed across the room, the action makes him smile, or the words either way he smiled and it felt so enchanting, you were taken aback by the effect it had on you.

“I know, I don’t want to fuck you” he explained, for some reason that didn’t make you feel better, it hurt in some odd indescribable way,

“Why not?” a quiet scoff escaped his lips, his eyes circling the room in disbelief.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” you can barely hide the shock on your face hearing those words from him, the smirk on his face was enough to know that this was amusing to him.

“You’re crazy” it comes out weaker than you intended, was your body actually failing you to Han Dongmin?

If you were being completely honest your body always somehow malfunctioned when he was around and you knew it wasn’t because you “hated” him but it was easier doing that than admitting that you found him attractive just like the rest of the population.

“Am I? You’re the one who thinks I’m some kind of horny monster” you can’t help but smile, the soft breath of a laugh escaping your lips before facing him.

The way he looked back at you blurred all your thoughts for that whole second where your eyes met, his tired eyes trying to figure out everything that you were just by looking.

“You’re not?” he rolled his eyes at you, acting unamused but the curve on his lips was so telling,

“I’m actually extremely romantic” he insisted, and you tried to imagine it, Dongmin, romantic, he did seem like a romantic, like he’d tell you poetry about how lovely you smell in the morning, like he’d get on your dad’s good side if it meant he could see you every day from then on. You hadn’t noticed before, but that was just how he seemed.

“Yeah right…” he liked your tenacity, you didn’t admit to things easily but it didn’t annoy him, it just made him want to show you, let you see how things really were,

“I can prove it, let me take you out.” and there it was, no wonder so many people fumbled, you wanted to follow the ways of your predecessors so badly but what was the point?

“You so want to fuck me” he laughed this time, with his hand over his smile, a small laugh but enough to make you smile.

It felt clear now, just in the few moments of conversation you had together it just made sense, and now he wanted you to see past the rumors, he’d never felt that urge before, the urge to come clean, “I’m not as bad as you think I am”

“Your brother will beat my ass if I hurt you anyway” you couldn’t argue that.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

📚 10 f1 fics i've loved lately 🏎️

been thinking a lot about how to organise fic recs into some sort of sensible post, 'cus there are so many (great!) pairings and (delicious!) driver combinations, not to mention so many varying styles of fic and SUPER TALENTED WRITERS!!111!!

just gonna list a bunch in no particular order, with accompanying pics, so you can get a sense of the vibes.

'cus what is f1 rpf but all about the ✨ vibes?! 🏁

p.s. people are in this community making amazing stuff for freeee!! if you liked these please leave a kudos or a comment, it makes a writer's day 🫡 

let's gooooo--

objects in the mirror by linearity (@drivestraight) charles/max. 87k words (series), rated t then e

listen. LISTEN! charles to rbr is one of the best premises ever and i will read it in like a thousand iterations. but this fic. this fic series in particular cleared my skin, made me want to cut my hair into a bob out of sheer emotion. i would be remiss not to start with this one because its impact on my f1 rpf trajectory should be studied by science. you know when a story just jumps off the page and it's so real that it becomes your canon. a kind of meteoric inevitability. plus, i almost never cry at fics. but by the time the third act of this one hit, i just went -- damn, am i rly about to tear up at a f1 rpf fanfiction rn? (yes.)

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sawtooth by nottonyharrison (@nottonyharrison) charles/max. 40k words, rated e

max as a f1 engineer? for CARLOS at FERRARI? sign me the fuckkk up. first off, awesome premise. there's always going to be something so heartwrenching about "what ifs", especially in any universe where max isn't a racer. despite the change of circumstances, just... the sheer poetry of two characters who just inexplicably find their way to each other in any universe... 🤧 also this story nails racing scenes in a way that's so visceral, i feel like a fly on the damn halo with them. and, aside from the gourmet lestappen, carlos's whole thing in this fic is joyous! spicy! he's so unapologetic and vaguely annoying! hilarious! + the swimming pool scene lives rent-free in my head.

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salt skin by peachbellini (@strawberry-daiquiris) oscar/lando. 12k words, rated e

this fic is magic. literally and figuratively. (MERMAID LANDO???? MERMAID LANDO.) the kind of story that makes you gasp and melt a little bit. and made me want to throw my phone at the writer, 'cause it's really that good. the yearning, the metaphor for all that's monstrous, a boy who is lost (and the boy who he finds, is equally so). this is just beautifully written and a little quirky and so well executed. i think i put it in my bookmarks as "what if lando was a mermaid and it was filmed by a24" or something. pearl of a story.

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hockey!! shrimp colors :) by leafmeal0ne (@ocontraire) oscar/lando. 13k words, rated t

leaf meal one. i have only known you a week but if anything were to happen to you i would wreck everyone in the room including myself. in all seriousness, anything that leaf writes is brilliant. they're one of these writers who could do a throwaway line on the label of a ketchup bottle and i will probably scream about it. the precision, the way they switch up sentence structures, the freaking darcy-level regency yearning transposed onto a contemporary sports setting. i'd rec all of leaf's sports AUs and i'll probably talk about more in a future fic rec post. BUT. the hockeyyy one my GOD. the barely restrained violence, their mutual desire, the theme of finding your place... *wails uncontrollably*

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you almost unearthly thing by anonymous max/daniel, 3.7k words, rated g

max is a governess(govern..lad?) and daniel is the mystery man at the manor. this was a response to a request i made in the kinkmeme! (if you haven't read those fics go check 'em out, there are so many great ones, and not necessarily all rated e). this is a criminally underrated little story that has my favourite repressed feelings + people dancing around each other + gothic vibes + "what the hell is wrong with y'all in this tale" combo that i really adore. it's really well written and captures the atmosphere so well.

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the so-called narrative by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) oscar/carlos, 10k words, rated e

i'm once again asking why there are only 7 carlos/oscar works in the tag. I'M ONCE AGAIN ASKING-- *is sedated*. *jolts awake* okay but for real this is a great story. hot, fake-friendship-to-situationship which so happens is one of my favourite places to be. also hello miscommunication/they're so weird about it/they both want each other but can't express themselves for shit/insane racer boys energy.

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and silver, and samarium by pink_mink (@on-softs) george/toto, 5.2k words, rated e

i profess i am not usually the biggest fan of A/B/O (altho!! this fandom has made me go BUT ACTUALLY HM at least a few times). and this fic freaking nails it, along with the twisted power dynamics between TPs and drivers, as seen through the lens of omegaverse. this story rattles around my head like a stubborn ghoul just from the style and prose and sheer audacity alone. george kneeling at toto's knees while he's working..... ohhhhhhhhh i was this close to calling my lawyers.

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algorithm by anney (@badboy-george) charles/max, 16k words, rated e

i LOVE, LOOOOVE a sci fi concept alright. love that shit, will inhale it like moon dust with zero regrets. and what a fantastic one this one is!! the premise is that the FIA can now statistically show the compatibility of drivers on the grid and it's very pacific rim-y drift compatible, mixed with the surreal vibes of eternal sunshine or HER or some such. it should be outrageous, but it really works. that's the beauty of a great fic right there.

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trajectory of trojan asteroids by redpaint (@redpaint) nico/lewis, 3.3k words, rated g

also one of the fics i first read when i hopped on board the f1 rpf train. the pain and poignancy just gets worse the more i learn about brocedes. you know when you're like "there's no way this was reallll" and then you're like "fuck, it was so real". then you get a fic like this that just encapsulates all that rage and loss and grief and upset, set against the starry vista of endless space. *clutches tablecloth* god.

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p.s please bear in mind that these recs are entirely subjective! i enjoy loads of f1 stories but these are the ones that have especially stuck with me for some inexplicable reason.

p.p.s if your fic is on here and you want it taken off for whatever reason, i'm happy to, no questions asked 💛

BYE for now / until part 2. (i also love talking to ppl about fics so pls feel free to send an ask or hit me up in DMs or whatever.)

xoxo, -- wizz

[dinoshimaaa]

some day, someone will like me like i like you. (pt 2)

this damned feeling. a curse laid upon him for all of eternity. unescapable, tormenting, torturing. first it was disappointment he felt in himself for succumbing to it. but that feeling of shame was soon washed away by the bliss that accompanied the fluttering feeling in his chest, its intensity so strong that it overpowered every other emotion in him, to the point that he only ever thinks and feels of you when you are near. what a shame that you do not feel the same. (feat. wanderer, tartaglia, lyney, gn! reader) (pt 1 here)

or: their heart will always be yours, but you…

(p.s. scara for @seveninchesfrominsanity 😎 and gingey for my best boro @souglias 😍 good luck to everyone on their child pulls!!!!!!!!)

(p.p.s. 8 year-old tartaglia refers to reader as a princess once, but it’s gender neutral otherwise + archon quest and lyney story quest spoilers)

-

the wanderer of sumeru is all but lovely. he is “hat guy”, the mysterious vahumana scholar who showed up out of nowhere just days ago, already gathering an infamous identity for being scornful and anti-social. he is lesser lord kusanali’s assistant, a thinly veiled title to mask the fact that he is a prisoner under her watch. many do not know him because he refuses to work in the spotlight, much like the acting grand sage, and those who do don’t always have the best impression of him.

and even lesser truly know of where he had come from: his mother who is raiden ei, his origins in tatarasuna, his affiliation with the fatui, his obsession with the electro gnosis, and what he once was to sumeru: a false god, a monster, the near-cause of the land of wisdom’s destruction.

but the lack of something will always be attracted to an abundance of something. you are nothing but lovely; the loveliest, if anyone had to say. you are dazzling and you are beautiful, turning heads towards you when you walk the street. you are kind and generous towards the stray kittens on treasure street, and cheerful and easygoing with the store owners when you visit them. people sing praises of you everywhere wanderer goes, and to say he hadn’t had his own experience with you was incorrect.

he remembers himself fighting wave after wave of fatui soldiers, and himself slowly getting more exhausted by the minute, when you came in like a saviour angel from above, plunging on the last of enemies with your bow. he recalls your hits being barely a fraction of how hard he can slice through an enemy, yet when you assisted in defeating those annoying fatui back then, you turned around and asked if he was okay with the brightest smile imaginable.

(to the traveler or nahida, he would’ve given a sarcastic reply. to any ordinary civilian, he would’ve ignored them and been on his way. that day, he recalls being utterly speechless, while the rising sun glows behind your head, giving you a halo, illuminating your smile further. you are the most radiant sight he has ever seen.)

he seeks you out secretly like a stray cat following the only kind soul who fed it milk. sometimes, he watches over you in the air, making sure you’re safe. other times he just observes your interactions with others, ever so relieved to see that you are loved by sumeru just as much as you have shown its people love. more often than not he catches himself drifting off to a dream filled with you, being flustered and ashamed of such pathetic behaviour. but sometimes he also gets too lost in his thoughts, melancholy overtaking his face when he thinks of the shining star that you are.

wanderer’s hands are decorated with filth and blood. they show, sometimes, after an exhausting fight with the fatui. in his peripheral vision, hallucinations of that kid, that blacksmith, and the doctor come and go. in the dead of night, when sumeru sleeps soundly and all that is to be heard are the rustling of leaves in the wind, wanderer looks at his shaking hands and closes them in a fist, wiping them harshly, trying to rub off the sins stained on them. he is a terrible person to others. he is a terrible person to himself.

he is not a lovely person. you are the embodiment of ‘lovely’ itself. he couldn’t possibly deserve to be with you, lest his filth and sinful hands taint your pure being. it would simply be unconscionable for someone like him; damaged past, wreck and ruin, an empty soulless shell, to be close to your brightness. no one, not even himself, would forgive him if he were to ruin who you are: sumeru’s loveliest, the one who loves sumeru, and the one whom sumeru loves.

it is yet another night of watching you enter your house safely, staring at your front door for a few moments more before heading back to his residence (nevermind that he was the one to clear all the enemies in your path ahead, while you weren’t seeing). if nahida ever pointed out the lingering fond look in his eyes, or if the traveler teased him about having a possible crush on someone, there would be no need to blush madly and scamper away like a schoolgirl, for he knows that there is zero chance of “us” with him and you.

-

there are many fairy tales that are popular in morepesok village, most of which ajax have heard in his childhood many times. his distant memories include his mother, still youthful and full of smiles, reading him one of such fairy tales to lull him to sleep. he remembers her warm caress, the pulling of a quilt over his tiny body, and the soft flicker of the candle beside his mother, waiting to be blown out for the night. he also remembers you, his childhood best friend, his sleepover buddy, his other half, tucked into bed right next to him. if he searched hard enough, he might find some candid pictures of you and him, cuddled next to each other in the bed, in his childhood home.

“so then, the prince and the princess ended up happily ever after again?” 8 year-old ajax yawned, a sleepy smile on his face.

“they did, again,” his mother’s warm chuckle resonates throughout the room, through his ears, into his heart. he stores her laugh like a cassette tape in his memory, wanting to play it over and over again in the future.

“i can’t imagine a fairy tale where the prince and princess don’t end up together,” you murmured beside ajax, as his mother tucked the two of you in.

“that should be us, then,” ajax turned to face you and grinned, “so we’ll never be apart. let’s pinky promise that you’ll always be the princess and i’ll always be the prince!”

“why do i have to be your princess?” you complained, only to be shushed by ajax’s mother before she blew the candle out, signalling the end of pillow talk and the start of dreamland.

(all three of you knew it was impossible for you and ajax to be completely silent after lights out. the giggles that progressively get louder and harder after his mother leaves the room are testament to that.

this time, however, ajax is deadly silent, and you reach out to cup his face to ask what’s wrong.)

“sorry,” ajax holds the hand you cupped his cheek with. “you don’t have to be the princess, it’s okay. but i want to be your prince. i want to rescue you from the bad guys and defeat bad guys in your name. i’ll even do a pinky promise to prove it.”

even though you don’t give him a verbal answer, you hold his hand as he sleeps. it brings enough reassurance to 8 year-old ajax.

such peaceful times are unreachable now, ever since he fell.

ajax has not seen you for ten years. you have seen tartaglia for none.

when he returns, his familiar fluff of ginger hair in front of your doorstep, you have to do a double take. gone is the scrawny boy you knew, that got sick after every ice fishing trip, and cried over the smallest of scratches; in front of you now stands a fearsome harbinger, the tsaritsa’s vanguard, a killing machine with no life in his eyes.

(that is not ajax, any longer. that is tartaglia. that is a fatui harbinger. where is your ajax?)

you cannot bring yourself to smile when he presents you with a bouquet of pink roses, despite how beautifully preserved and fragrant they are. your heart doesn’t soften even when he greets your parents politely, plays with your siblings, cooks your family dinner, and helps with the dishes. that is not ajax whom you’ve let into your home, in contrast to what the rest of your family believes. that is a stranger who has intruded your safe space.

it hurts childe more than it hurts you to be on the receiving end of haunted eyes and hostile stares. he knows that he is vastly different from the childhood best friend he was to you ten years ago, and no matter what he does now, you will always see him as tartaglia, childe, the vanguard. you love ajax, but ajax is who he once was. ajax had been forced to throw himself away to survive. it wasn’t his fault that ajax is dead, but he cannot blame you for defiantly wanting your ajax back.

so when he kneels in front of you, the snowy wind feeling a lot more colder than usual, he ignores the way your hands tense when he holds it. he wants to cry when you attempt to pull your hand away even though he kisses it as gently as gentle can be. if an outsider were to witness this, they’d call this a romantic scene, between a prince and his beloved. but both you and ajax know that the fairy tale you yearned for in your childhood is completely unreachable now.

(“give me back my ajax.”)

(“i’m sorry.”)

-

to say that the great magician lyney is fully authentic in his shows would be a bit of a stretch, for he is an actor on the stage before he is a magician, however hard or long he may rehearse the day before the show. every smile had been sculpted and practised for hours until it was deemed perfect enough to be seen by his audience. needless to say, ‘the great magician lyney’ is merely a farce, an identity of its own. he wishes not to confuse that lyney with ‘fatui lyney’ and just ‘lyney’.

you were just supposed to be another face in the audience, an unsuspecting fellow he was meant to charm, attract, and never remember the face of. but you show up to a show once, then twice, then thrice, and soon you become a familiar face that lyney notices in the audience every now and then.

(that’s what lyney says, at least. lynette knows that he secretly seeks out your face behind the curtains, and the moment he finds you, his smile widens a tad bit, and his voice is a little cheerier as he steps out on stage.

by the way, since when did he start using rainbow roses in his performances? ugh, darn charlotte.)

but it is not easy to always be just ‘lyney’ with you, for he is called to be the great magician by day, and fatui by night. rarely is there time given to him to be his true self in front of you, to let the curtains fall and the farce fade. you can’t remember the last time he was allowed to let his shoulders slump, his face be bare of makeup, and his head rest under your chin as you kissed his tears.

and it seems you won’t be seeing those ever again.

lyney feels his blood run cold the moment father mentions your name in a mission, so casually, almost as if she had let your name slip out of her lips innocently and accidentally, if he hadn’t known any better. but lyney has been her loyal servant, her ‘favourite child’ for years, and he knows that the mere mention of your name is but a warning to him.

“i seem to be craving coffee recently. no one brews it quite as well as [name] does, i fear,” is what the knave says.

that person seems to be distracting you. i will eliminate them soon, is what she means.

lyney cannot afford to let anymore people close to him get hurt. his parents, who passed when he was very young… lynette, whose life had been endangered too many times to count… cesar, who taught him everything and treated him with love even in just ten days…

you shouldn’t need to fall into the same trend as well. your life is peaceful, precious, and untainted unlike his. so, it should remain untouched. and lyney decides that this is when he does what he has to do.

on the day that you return home and see lumidouce bells on your doorstep instead of lyney, you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. your gut turns and folds nastily, and stars increasingly flood your vision while a silent plea rings in your head, but there is nothing logical that refutes the contents of the letter that lyney had left you. that is all you have left of him.

the rest is to be expected. feeling betrayed and abandoned, you lose all feelings for lyney, not wanting to be associated with him again. his gifted trinkets left in your house are all thrown out. you can’t look at a magic show advertisement for more than two seconds. it takes only a little while to get over this heartbreak, but once you are fully free of all emotional attachment to lyney, you never think about him and his rainbow roses ever again.

lyney’s plan goes exceptionally well. of course it does; it was as meticulously planned as all his performances are. he returns to the house later that night to report back to father, submitting his response to her threats weeks ago: [name] is nothing to me now. hence, you cannot hurt them.

(however successful his plan was, he cannot bring himself to smile in response to the knave’s satisfied one.)

later, on the same night, when he slips out of the house, he finds himself wandering towards the place where he usually picks his rainbow roses from. a gentle pluck, a flick of his hand; a lumidouce bell takes its place instead. he smiles at his own trick bitterly, before pressing his lips to the blue flower and intertwining another rainbow rose with it. 

a moment of hesitation comes, followed by a few minutes of uneasy pacing, until lyney makes the decision to squeeze the petals with his gloved hand. the crumpled pink and blue petals fall to the ground. lyney only gazes as they do so.

(he wishes he could do the same to his own heart, but that is barely a fraction of how he made you feel. he will look for more ways to punish himself, then.)

[bibbykins]

Kidding

A/N: Sometimes I go weeks of barely writing and sometimes I sit down and write this in an hour. Two wolves inside me fr lmao. Either way, here's a fun drabble that takes place in the future of THB. Thank you all for being so patient with me. I wanted to give y'all this for my bday coming up soon, so I hope it's a good present ^^ It's con crunch time for me bc my dumbass wanted to make all my cosplays, so I should be back properly come Septemberish, but I'll be here nonetheless lurking lol

Note: This is a drabble for  The Household’s Bunny series that takes place later in the timeline

Words: `1.4k

Pairing: Soft(ish) Yandere! BTS x Chubby! Reader

Warnings: this one's pretty tame but still- kissing, yandere tendencies/behavior, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy mindset/perception of love, possessive/obsessive yoongi being needy, everyone in his office being infatuated with MC bc it's fun lol

“He’s so cold.” Sumin, a software developer, shivered as Yoongi walked down the hall. 

Being scared of the CEO wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence. Even his stride demanded absolute perfection, not too fast and not too slow. Min Yoongi wasn’t unkind by any means, but he certainly didn’t go out of his way to make anyone feel at ease. It wasn’t his fault that so many people found him intimidating or his resting face angry. He didn’t need Taehyung’s happy-go-lucky smile or Jin’s expert kindness to get things done, so why would he try? 

“Why is he even down here right now?” Ara wondered next to her coworker. 

Sumin looked at her like she was crazy before he remembered, “Ah, you’re new, that’s right.” He chuckled, “Every month Mr. Min will meet his girlfriend at the door.” He nodded towards the lobby. 

Ara’s eyes bulged, “Girlfriend?! And he meets her down here?!” She blinked wildly, “Is she just as scary–” Before Ara could properly finish her question, there you were. Even if she wasn’t looking, it would be impossible to miss the fanfare of your entrance. Soyeon, the receptionist who Ara didn’t even know could smile that wide, stood from her chair as she excitedly greeted you. 

“Bunny!” She cheered, and Ara was nearly knocked flat when you beamed at the woman and squished her into a hug. 

Yoongi had to fight a pout as he watched the scene in front of him, “How many times do I have to tell you her name is–” 

“Darling.” You cut him off, eliciting a small gasp from the workers down the hall indiscreetly watching the scene, “Be nice, she can call me whatever she wants.” You smiled at Soyeon, and Ara swore the woman was about to melt– not that she could blame her. 

“Bunny?” She let slip, catching the attention of Sumin. 

“You really didn’t do much research before starting, huh?” Sumin tsked, “That’s bunnyboop, she’s like one of the highest-earning online sex workers.” He explained and Ara didn’t know her mouth could drop further as she got a better look at you dressed in a mint green mini-dress that outlined your thick curves. The necklace you wore held a crest she recognized as being on the ring Yoongi wore. 

Yoongi similarly admired your form even as you scolded him. Every day you just grew to be more beautiful to him, and it was hard to be annoyed with your kindness towards others when you wore him on your neck. Namjoon won and got to be displayed on your left ring finger, but he couldn’t be too mad about being the closest to your heart. You were unequivocally theirs, no matter how many smiles you flashed to his employees. His eyes skimmed your dress, taking extra care when raking over your plush thighs, but he was stopped short by the familiar emerald heels you were, “I thought those hurt you last time.” He fretted and you rolled your eyes at the subject change. 

“I gotta break them in somehow.” You retorted, “Don’t worry, I got band-aids on this time.” You reassured him, but it was too late. He was already making his descent. Quick as you could, your hand shot out to his shoulder to stop him from kneeling on the floor in front of everyone, “Don’t make a scene, love.” You reminded him, “Not again.” You added with a giggle. Last time you could hear a pin drop in the lively office, and you didn’t want a rerun. 

Begrudgingly he stood up straight again and you smiled before rewarding him with a kiss to his cheek. The smile he gave you filled you with warmth, “And I can’t just carry you up to my office?” He whispered in your ear, making your face heat. 

“I can walk.” You simply said with a grin before turning to Soyeon, “Sorry we always make a scene.” You giggled and she shook her head. 

“Keeps us single people in line.” She chuckled, “See you later!” She waved as Yoongi slipped his hand in yours to lead you up to his office where he already had lunch delivered. 

You could barely wave as you struggle to keep up with him, “You’re so mean.” You teased him, and Ara could feel her breath hitch the closer the two of you got to her desk. The worker thought she was going to vomit when you stopped in front of her, curious eyes on her form. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. L/n.” Sumin spoke like he was talking to a queen, and in a way, he was.

You gave the man a full and genuine smile as Yoongi had to look back and scowl, “Sumin, please, I said you can use my first name at least.” You chuckled and Ara watched on in shock before your eyes flicked to hers, “You’re the new girl, right?” You asked before thinking, “...Ara?” You said her name and her knees nearly buckled. 

“Y-Yes ma’am.” Ara squeaked out and your eyes widened. 

“No need for that!” You were obviously flustered as you waved the formality off with your free hand, “I’m always happy to meet people on Miyoung’s team, she’s so sweet, and she told me you were really good.” You gushed, and Ara could hardly believe anyone calling Miyoung sweet. Miyoung was scary, not as bad as the man trying to subtly tug you away, but still frightening.

Ara still found herself smiling, your very own was quite contagious and she could see why you were so popular, “Thank you.” She managed to say without stumbling. 

You could feel Yoongi’s eyes boring into you, so you decided to have mercy, “Till next time!” You waved to all of them, and Ara watched as everyone in the hall did the same. Now that she thought of it, everyone was acting a bit weird all day. Everyone had been cleaning their desks, fixing their hair, putting on lipstick. They were even dressed a bit nicer than usual. At first, she thought it was because they anticipated Yoongi’s arrival, but it seemed they wanted to impress his girlfriend. Subconsciously, her eyes caught onto her plain blouse and she frowned, next time she’ll wear the one with ruffles. 

—

The moment the elevator doors closed, you were pressed against them as Yoongi’s dark eyes glared at you, “So fussy.” You tutted. 

“You don’t need to greet every new employee you can see–” Yoongi didn’t even get to finish his scolding before your manicured nails wrapped around his tie and tugged him down to your mouth. It was the only fool-proof way to silence him when he got worked up like this. Your mouth slotted against his while he massaged your lips with his own, uncaring of the smudging of nude pink lipstick that was undoubtedly occurring. 

Your tongues intertwined until the ding of the elevator signaled your arrival to his floor. You pulled back with a smile as you soaked in his dumbstruck face, “Hungry.” You announced before making a break for it to his office. 

Giggling like a maniac, you ran as fast as you could to the meeting room he set you up in every time for lunch. However, you were slowed down by caution for your heels and his hand closed around your wrist, pulling you into him just as you passed the threshold of the room, “You’re such a brat.” He hissed into your ear as he backed you against the table, forcing you to sit on the mahogany top, “I’m hungry, but I don’t even want the food anymore.” He murmured along the skin of your neck while his fingertips slipped past the hem of your dress. 

It was tempting, and you were just about to give in until your stomach growled, breaking the tension and making both of you laugh, “You’re kidding.” You groaned as he leaned his forehead against yours with a smile, “That’s not fair, you know I get all hot and bothered when you’re eager like that.” You whined, already knowing he isn’t going to let you do anything else but eat first now. 

“Is that why you torture me so, huh?” He tested jokingly. He knew that you bewitched the whole office because that’s just how you were. You were his princess, and you acted like it. He may not like his employees being so transfixed with you, but it was hard to be that irritated when he was much worse off than they were, “Gonna make me fire this whole building.” He mumbled along your lips. You gasped, allowing him to dip his tongue in for just a moment to get a taste of you, “Kidding.” He said before pressing one long kiss on your puffy lips, “Mostly.” He winked before beginning to unpack the food. 

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[goldberrg]

princess harrington

summery : Billy doesn't know why the inseparable Harrington twins aren't together at this party, but this is definitely his chance to hit on Y\N before Steve can snatch her from under his nose. Harrington jealously guards the innocence of his sister, and Hargrove just burns with the desire to try out her tight little pussy first.

TW's – pwp ( 18+ ), dirty talk, alcohol, rough sex, sex in the car, drunk sex, hickeys \ bites, cunnilingus, first time, mentioning of incest.

— Our parents have bad taste and no sense of humor. — Y\N Harrington says, and Billy absolutely agrees with you.

His laughter is disassembled by how equally trained the Harrington twins are in the manner of copying their rich dad. And if Steve's snobbery and ironed collars make him sick, then he would love to look under the short skirt of yours. If only out of a desire to tease Harrington once again, he never gets tired of this activity.

— You should have seen how his mother's face fell when Steve received a rejection letter from Harvard. — you continue to chirp. — She was already buzzing to her friends from the golf club that he would continue the tradition.

Heather Holloway nods and laughs, and Billy, who so successfully overhears this conversation, gets another interesting fact in a long list of things that the mention of which can upset Steve.

He is frankly bored at this stupid Carol party, but watching Harrington inflames him a little. You are wearing a stupid vest with diamonds and a v-neck, like some kind of nerd, but everything below immediately makes him close his eyes to it. A plaid skirt in a fold barely covers your hips, and it's already warm enough outside, so instead of tights, you put on high socks that do not hide small round knees.

Billy doesn't know why the inseparable Harrington twins aren't together at this party, but this is definitely his chance to hit on Y\N before Steve can snatch you from under his nose. Harrington jealously guards the innocence of his sister, and Hargrove just burns with the desire to try out her tight little pussy first.

— You bored, Harrington? — Billy knows your every response to any of his attacks, so it won't be difficult to make the right scenario.

— Fuck off, Hargrove. — you look at him with contempt and a slight disgust, and Billy remembers this look so that he can later recall them all to you. Heather is unobtrusively clinging to his thigh, but it's been no fun with her for a long time, so Billy brushes her off like an annoying fly.

— You'll make it your wish when you win at beer pong with me. — Billy laughs.

— Dont want to.

— How could I forget that you are the same cowardly bitch as your brother. — he knows all your weaknesses, counts three-two-one, got caught.

— Fuck you, Hargrove. — you are angry, but you had already lost, succumbing to his skillful manipulation.

A table is cleared for those two, the crowd closes in, watching with interest and egging on as soon as they take their seats on different sides.

It's only after the third drink that Harrington remembers who you contacted — it's Billy Hargrove, the king, your brother's main rival on the basketball court, he gets drunk very slowly and always hits the target. But you will not retreat, especially in front of so many people, even if your brother has lost his authority among their classmates, you are still Princess Harrington.

— You lost it, baby, — Billy grins. — You'll owe me a wish.

— No shit, Hargrove.

— Oh, it's going to be completely innocent. — he laughs, and the laughter sends shivers down your spine.

Fuck it, the main thing now is to get home before it finally covers you. But you are so drunk, drunk, drunk that you can't even handle the car keys.

— Do you need a ride? — Harrington flinches at the sound of someone else's voice, you didn't even notice how Billy followed you out of the house, and now he's parking right behind you.

The Camaro gleams invitingly with its polished body, and the last thing you are ever going to do is get into Billy Hargrove's car. Lower down on your “never" list is just getting home on foot.

— I'm not going to eat you, Harrington.

— Okay. — you say back and settle into the passenger seat.

Billy starts off at breakneck speed, the cabin smells stupefyingly of his cigarettes and cologne, the smell gets in his nose, and you open the window on your side to get at least a little. It's only a short drive from Carol's house, you can tolerate Hargrove's presence for a little longer. Your head is buzzing with beer, you havent drunk so much at a time before, your eyes sleepily close, despite the rock music coming from the player.

— Hey, princess, don't sleep. — Billy slaps the steering wheel and pulls off the road, parking behind the trees.

You blink and the next thing you feel is a hot wet tongue on your neck and hard calloused fingers on your knee. You want to scream, to push him away from you, because it's Billy, mother fucking Billy Hargrove, but you guessed what usually happens in this car and you sat down with him. His mouth draws in the skin on your neck, his hands skillfully climb under the vest and squeeze your chest through the shirt and bra. He smells sharp, touches you correctly, so that it twists in a knot in the stomach.

— Hargrove, stop it. — you fight back sluggishly, rest your palms on his shoulders.

— Have you been touched here before? — the fingers under the skirt stroke the hips, gently press through the lace, and you feel how hot and wet it becomes at the bottom.

—Yes. — you breathe into his ear, his lips parting in a grin and greedily dig into your mouth.

— I thought Princess Harrington was a good girl. — Billy presses harder with two fingers, moves in circles, with the other hand rips out the buttons on your perfectly white shirt, still not taking off a single thing from you. — Turns out she's a little wet slut.

You moan into his mouth, arching towards him under skillful hands.

— I'm not... I'm not a slut. — your breath is lost when Billy leaves the first sensitive hickey on your neck, you finally ceases to control the situation when the clothes gradually disappear from your body, and his teeth bite and pull the nipple. — Damn it.

— Yeah? — Billy pulls away, raising a malicious eyebrow, and you automatically reach for him. — And you look exactly like that now.

He moves into the backseat, pulls you behind him, undressing you hastily, crushes you, spreads you out like a pinned butterfly. You are wearing only those high socks and loafers, and a path of inflaming hickeys stretches from the smooth neck to the navel.

— I never had it with anyone.. — you whisper and get lost.

— Had what? — Billy teases, spreading your legs apart, buries his nose in the current narrow slit, rubs his tongue at the very entrance. — Haven't you fucked?

— Yeah.

— Just say it, princess, you're already a big girl. — he licks you greedily, tickles your clitoris with his lips, pressing his tongue, pushes two fingers at once, and you tremble under him, filled, tight, greedily embracing him with trembling walls. — And who were you saving your pussy for?

You arw silent, moaning with displeasure only when Billy takes his fingers out of you and pulls away.

— Answer me. — he grins and defiantly puts his fingers smeared in your grease in his mouth, sucking. — Do you want my dick, Harrington?

— Yes. — you sob and reache out to him with your hands, unbuttoning the buttons on your shirt with trembling fingers, with you mouth to your hard stomach, with the palms on sides.

—Stronger than his? — Billy doesn't move, allowing himself to be undressed.

— Yeah.. — you snap the buckle of his belt, pulls his jeans and underwear over his hips and freeze, as if not knowing what to do next.

— And who do you imagine when you touch yourself in the shower, Princess? — Billy reaches into the glove compartment for a condom.

— I'm not..

— Don't lie to me. — he slowly rolls the rubber band around his dick. — Or I'll drop you out of the car right now.

— Steve..

— What? I didn't hear you, baby. — Billy scoffs, laying you on your shoulder blades, passing his tongue from ear to collarbone.

—It's Steve. — you breathe, blushing.

— Little pervert. — he laughs, roughly pushing into you, immediately deep almost to the full length, looks fascinated as your mouth opens, as you eyes open, licks salty tears from rosy cheeks. — Imagining how your own brother fucks you?

You whimper and cling to his shoulders, breathe hunted and put your neck under the teeth, swinging you hips to wet squelching slaps of skin on skin.

— Please..

—What, Princess?

— I want to cum.

— Really? — he moves hard in you, driving you crazy with every thrust, returns his fingers to the clitoris, pressing.

— Billy... — you choke on a moan, choke with pleasure, smear your lips droolingly on his chin. Y\N Harrington is no better or worse than the other high school sluts Billy fucked in his car. But you is his little battle trophy.

He ends up slipping out of your body, helps you get dressed and put your hair in some semblance of order, and at a certain moment it seems to you that Billy Hargrove is not such an asshole. He tucks the lace panties into his jeans pocket. — Why?

— You owe me a wish. — Billy grins, returning to the driver's seat. He can already imagine Steve Harrington's furious face when he throws his sister's panties in his face in the locker room after basketball and says that you dropped them in the Camaro.

— Okay, asshole.

[pokenimagines]

Grusha | Fic | where the reader gets badly injured by a wild Pokémon attack but as he reaches reader he sees them knocked out and gets protective?

This has a bit of angst in it, but not a lot...I don't think? I just saw this prompt and I'm like "Oh, I have the perfect set up!". Reader ends up totally fine though, just saying. I don't ever write straight up angst.

Rules | Discord Server (16+)

SFW Grusha: Protecting What Matters

Grusha tried not to let many things bother him; he preferred it that way. He sometimes got annoyed with overly optimistic people, or those who saw everything through rose colored goggles, but most of the time he just let went with the flow.

Then he met you, the kind of person he didn't expect to fall for. You were moving forward at a fast pace, far faster then he would've ever thought possible. He ended up falling hard, and he hated it. He pushed down the feelings as much as he could, but whenever you begged him to go out somewhere with you, or to train in the mountains, he always had issues telling you no.

You were a capable trainer, with an even more capable team, so he never worried when going out to train in the mountains. He knew, he cursed himself for knowing, that anything could happen. Anything could change the course of your life in an instant, just one misstep was all it took. Despite knowing this, hell even preaching it at some point, he didn't pay enough attention to you.

One moment, you were battling a Froslass with your fire-type, an easy battle, then the next you were on the snow, bleeding from the head. He had never ran so fast in his life, sliding on ice as he skidded over to you. His Altaria managed to beat the Froslass without him even having to utter a single command.

He looked you over, seeing how you were knocked out cold. Despite saying your name several times, you didn't rouse. You had a pulse, that was good. It just looked like a chunk of ice had been hurled at your head. Grusha managed to lift you in his arms as he took you to the pokemon center.

You were fine, completely and utterly fine. A minor concussion, but otherwise you didn't have any long term issued. Three entire weeks and you were completely back to normal; knocking at Grusha's front door. The blue haired boy opened the door, wearing just a long sleeved shirt and some black joggers. His hair was tied into a bun as he looked over at you with an almost surprised look.

"You're back..." Grusha said, opening the door for you to come in. You happily walked into the home, kicking off the boots so you wouldn't trail snow everywhere in the home.

"Yuppers, I was wondering if you wanted to go out into the mountains with me. I'm feeling a lot better and my team is itching to battle." You said, acting as if nothing happened.

"You want to go back out there? You know you could've died if that piece of ice hit you any harder." Grusha said and you shrugged.

"Well, it didn't, and I'll be more careful this time." You said, not bothered at all. You were alive and well, after all. Sure you were knocked out, but you lived.

"You might not be so lucky next time, you know things can happen in a split second. One wrong move..." Grusha began, wanting to convince you that maybe training in the mountains wouldn't be a good idea.

"I know, but this is what I enjoy doing. I can't let once incident that I survived make me quit. I'm well aware of the risks of what can happen out there, Grusha." You said, feeling a bit like he was trying to dictate what you could and couldn't do.

"I just...what would I do if you died?" He murmured the last part so quietly you could barely make it out. Your eyes widened, as you realized exactly what has him so anxious. You gave him a wobbly smile before walking over to him.

Grusha hasn't anticipated you wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. You looked at him with a smile, "I don't plan on dying anytime soon." You informed him.

"It could still happen..." He murmured.

"Ya, well guess you'll just have to accompany me and make sure I don't get hurt again." You joked and Grusha put a hand on your head, playing with your hair.

"That worked wonderfully last time..." He reminded you, but you weren't caring.

"Guess you'll have to be extra diligent then. I bet if you held my hand out there, I won't be able to slip away and get hurt." You couldn't help, but chuckle at the light blush on his cheeks.

"Fine, I'll go with you...but you have to promise to be careful." Grusha said; you couldn't contain your joy as you reached up and kissed his cheek.

"Will do!" You said while parting and going over to put your boots back on. Grusha just looked at you for a moment more, his hand covering the cheek you just kissed. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to continue pushing down his feelings if you acted like that.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• Thank you for reading! Did you know we have a discord? It has everything from RPs, General Discussions, and even an 18+ area to go hog wild in! We even do announcements early for when the inbox is opening for requests, as well as other events! Come in and join us!

[fixing-bad-posts]

I looked around and didn't see anything about this on your blog but I apologize if I missed it.

I was wondering, what does doing the work behind this blog...feel like? I guess what I'm asking is if it does anything to you. Like, I had a thought. For a flash, I imagined you as Butters from South Park in that episode where he is tasked with filtering out all the negative comments on Cartman's social media. It ended up really messing with Butters, what with him having to see all that negativity.

You're definitely not being affected to that extreme, I assume, but I wonder if you would have anything to say about the process of finding these negative posts and reading them several times to edit them. Has it exposed you to unpleasantness that you wouldn't have otherwise seen? Or is there perhaps a kind of catharsis in editing such filth?

I'm making a lot of assumptions here. Maybe I'm also asking about your process. I just think what you're doing is neat and would love to hear about your experience with it.

Thanks for reading and I hope you have plenty of reasons to feel joy <3

oh boy, i love talking about myself haha—so thank you for giving me an excuse to do so! i have answered similar questions in the past, though never at length. every once in a while, someone pops into the inbox to ask about my mental health (which, rest assured, is just fine—i don’t put this blog’s operation above anything; it’s honestly pretty low on my list of life-priorities), and it’s always quite sweet. having a mob of strangers following one’s sideblog has its perks: one being that sometimes parasociality results in some well wishes, kind thoughts, and general goodwill. which is very nice, and probably an unearned vanity-boost for my ego.

what does the work behind this blog feel like? in turns: mundane, challenging, vindicating, annoying, amusing… and probably other things that i’m forgetting. most of the work i do on this blog is actually me procrastinating! i am a certified adult with a job™, and i’m definitely guilty of slacking off at work sometimes to queue posts submissions from my inbox, which is more fun than like… proofreading financial documents and making spreadsheets. other times, i’m sitting in a café with my partner, and allegedly i’m “writing” fanfiction. but, uh, if you know any writers, you know that sometimes “writing” means, ‘looking at a blinking cursor’. so it’s in those moments that i open up tumblr and start writing image descriptions and adding tags to prep posts for my queue. that’s mainly when the blog feels mundane.

something that i think helps me avoid negative doomscroll-spirals is that i don’t actively seek out bad posts for this blog. being a citizen of the internet delivers fodder to me naturally. that, and running a semi-popular sideblog on tumblr. when i see a bad post in the wild, that’s when the feeling is annoying/challenging. challenging, because ever since starting this sideblog, hateful posts don’t feel as vicious to me. once i see them, they stop being posts and turn into word-puzzles. and i love word puzzles!

solving the word puzzle is amusing for me, as is getting to look at my resulting “blackout poem.” it makes me laugh, it stretches my brain. when i started, i used to have to read a post several times to find the ‘good post within the bad post’ so to speak. these days, i’m so used to it, i barely read the bad posts more than a handful of times. but as i was saying to my partner, one of the reasons i love found poetry (erasure poetry, and cut-up poetry) is that it uses the same part of my brain that loves scrabble (the board game). then, of course, it's vindicating to see my posts get so many notes, sometimes surpassing the original bad post. that's more of my own vanity, i'm sure.

as for the last part of your message: yes, i have plenty of reasons to feel joy. i work with people who respect me, i live walking distance from a bubble tea café, and have friends and family whom i love. i have the good fortune to be safely out as a queer person. i’m a fanbinder. i’m currently working on a long fanfiction which is getting some very nice comments on ao3. and i’ve recently decided to become a poet (like, for real).

i must admit, i’m fascinated by how you imagine me. i often wonder how i am perceived, especially because i keep many cards close to my chest here on my sideblog.

anyhow, thank you for this excuse to ramble about myself and the process of running this blog. i hope you also have plenty of reasons to feel joy 💛

[mxmorbidmidnight]

How to help a person with tics/tourettes

don't stare: ticcing in public is incredibly stressful, and people with tics are very often on edge and fearful of reactions and stares. Staring causes stress, stress causes more tics. So if you see someone ticcing, don't gawp at them as if they're an animal in a zoo.

if you hear someone making a noise, no you didn't: I've had teachers address the noises that I make because of my tics in front of my entire class, leading me to have to explain my condition to the teacher and all my peers. People make sounds for a number of reasons, ticcing, stimming, etc. Please do your best to be understanding and just in general avoid publicly humiliating others.

Don't shame: don't tell someone their tics are annoying or hold an individuals accountable for saying something they do not mean and cannot control. Tics can be about anything, that does not mean that is what the person is thinking or that is something they say often or would ever want to say. Asking us to stop ticcing is NOT a fair a demand.

Do not hold down someone while ticcing: this can make matters a lot worse. When someone tics it satisfies a sort of urge, by holding us back you are not stopping the problem, in fact it can cause the tics to become more severe. The general consensus is do not interfere with tics unless a person is in danger or has asked you to.

Ask them!!: different people will have different preferences of how they want to be treated with their tics. Some people prefer when you laugh at tics because it makes the situation less awkward as well as making the person ticcing feel better. I personally hate anyone who's not someone I'm close to laughing at my tics. Ask a person with tics how they want you to react to their tics as well as how you can help them as a whole.

Accessibility: there are certain things you can do to make groups and environments accessible to those with tics. Having a safe, private and quiet space is incredibly helpful. I have many accommodations within the school environment, such as being able to get out of class, wear headphones or earphones, use fidgets and take exams separately from other students.

Don't fake claim: different people will all experience tics differently, tics can come on suddenly, they can go through periods where they're barely visible and often the full extent of what someone goes through is not apparent to onlookers. Often those who fake claim know nothing about a disorder, fake claiming in general is extremely damaging however drastically more so when done by someone who has no idea what they're talking about. Fake claiming does our community no benefit, all it does is make it more difficult for us to access support for our disability, with people being denied care and accomodations. It is much better to let a few fakers run around than damage an entire group of people. If someone who is faking is spreading misinformation or causing damage to the community that is another issue entirely and should be dealt with.

Don't fetishise: tics are not just some fetish, they are not a porn category. Tics can be disabling, they cause us to be ostracised, judged and bullied. As a general rule of thumb do not call someone's tics or just any symptom of their disability "cute". It is so incredibly frustrating, when something brings you such pain will be seen by others as "cute". Fetishisation does damage to our community, does damage to the movement we are making and does damage to individuals.

educate yourself, be understanding: you will not always understand, and there will likely be things you might not never understand however as a general rule, be kind. Having tics will result in limitations as well as need for certain accomodations. If there are two things you must take away from this:

Be kind, be understanding

Educate yourself.

[suratan-zir]

rambling about language, rats and dreams..?

Recently, for the first time in two years, I had to speak Russian. I had to remember how to speak Russian, or rather how to write in Russian. The things I do for love for my rats...

explanation for those who doesn't know me too well: I was born and raised in the eastern Ukraine (the so-called Donbas), in a Russian-speaking environment. Studied in the "Russian" school, which means that all subjects, except for Ukrainian language and literature, are taught in Russian. Everyone around me spoke Russian. People there can understand and speak Ukrainian, obviously, as everyone in Ukraine does. But it's not used in everyday life, due to the years of russification.

Then, as soon as we moved from Russian-occupied Donetsk, a few months before the invasion, we (my husband and I) completely switched to Ukrainian. We didn't want to have anything in common with those people. (and after the invasion, many Ukrainians also made this choice)

Anyway, one of my rats, Krobus, has a disease unknown to mankind. In all the years of keeping rats, I have never been in such a situation. Something makes it difficult for him to breathe through his nose, yet it is not a respiratory infection. His lungs are fine, he doesn't sneeze too much, doesn't have a runny nose etc. No antibiotics, nebulizer inhalations and even corticosteroids have any effect whatsoever. Vets specializing in rodents don't know what to do. Most likely, it's some kind of growths in the nasal passages.

After a lot of trial and error, incompetent and idiotic advices, I decided to contact our old and trusted vet in Donetsk. But I didn't want to explain to her why I switched languages, I didn't want to have any political discussions, especially with Krobus' health being at stake. So I had to write all the messages to her in Russian. And it was HARD. I don't mean like morally hard. No, plainly hard. I kept mixing up prepositions, word endings, etc., and generally had a tough time finding the right words.

You don't understand how huge this is. I don't know how to explain… Russian wasn't just a simple tool for me. I used to write poems and prose, long letters and essays. My favorite author was Russian. (Nabokov, probably the least Russian Russian but still). In my school years I was that one annoying girl whom the Russian teacher used as an example for others or selected for language competitions to represent the school/town. I know you can't tell that from my shitty English, because the teaching of English in Ukraine and Russia is generally at a terrible level, to the point that English teachers often barely speak English themselves.

Losing it, a giant part of my identity, one of my very few skills…it should feel terrible. But it's fucking amazing! Trying to speak Russian and sounding weird? Wonderful! Trying to write in Russian and forgetting the correct spelling? Fantastic!

In the modern world, learning new languages is a very common practice. But trying to forget a certain language? Now that's a somewhat unique experience that is now shared by so many Ukrainians. Not all of us give up the Russian language for moral or ethical reasons, although many do. And not only in order to correct injustice and the consequences of years of colonization. For some of us, the Russian language is simply a trigger for our trauma. It's a reminder of the pain Russia is subjecting us to. When Russian missiles fly over our heads, at least in they can't penetrate our minds. Eh, it wasn't supposed to sound this pretentious. Ew.

This whole language-switching thing confused my brain a little bit and now I dream mostly in English. So that's a fun side-effect? I don't know why not in Ukrainian though.

In case you're wondering, no medication is helping Krobus still. He feels and acts fine, it's not getting significantly worse for many months, but nothing makes him better. We'll keep trying.

[aspd-culture]

dunno if this is allowed, u dont have to answer if you don't want to but as someone with bpd I'm curious, how do people with aspd often see them?

So I can only offer my anecdotal answer to this, but I've had very polarized responses to people with BPD. Anything I say about how my ASPD affects the person with BPD I'm speaking of has been directly told to me by that person, so I am not just assuming.

On the one hand, my partner has BPD and it makes our relationship much more functional on my end than it would with me being with someone without it. That's because my *very* limited empathy that comes with him being an Exception pairs very well with the more intense emotions a pwBPD feels. Since my empathy is limited, I am not overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions the way his exes often were. And, since his emotions are so intense, I can actually pick up on many of those emotions even with the blunted empathy. They're quiet pings on my radar, but they're there.

Further, my desire to only be around an extremely limited number of people saves him a lot of grief because his favorite person is *very* rarely interested in talking to anyone but him and a couple other close friends. The more limited the pool of people I have deep and meaningful relationships with, the less threatened he feels with me being his favorite person. Whilst he couldn't and wouldn't push someone to barely talk to anyone but him as that would be extremely abusive, me wanting to limit my interactions with people helps ease that anxiety a lot. It very much limits how much he worries that I will abandon him for someone else.

Meanwhile, the intensity of his attachment to me, while annoying during a flare, is actually something I enjoy. It's good for the ASPD unstable self-worth to know he values me that highly, and being his FP helps my brain accept that he genuinely does value me and is not using me, because I know the "hidden motivation" for him wanting me around that my ASPD convinces me everyone has. It's also one of the most stable attachments to me that anyone has had, mainly because I have very little time to detach since we do spend so much time together. Besides with my alters, it's the closest to normal love I've ever felt.

However, for non-Exceptions, I can get *very* annoyed by the emotional reactions of pwBPD if they affect me. I already am exhausted by the emotional labor of dealing with prosocials, what with their emotions overtaking their logic, but that is even more exacerbated by pwBPD. It's not their fault, and I know that, but I do have trouble being around pwBPD who are not an Exception because of this without setting firm boundaries on what I can and can't help them with. If they need me to just listen to their upset without trying to help them solve the problem, I cannot help with that. However, if they are too overwhelmed by their reaction to find solutions and want me to insert a logical and entirely non-emotional perspective, I am great at that and it makes me feel useful for something that mostly makes people call me shallow and cold.

Even for my Exceptions though, there are definitely issues between a pwBPD and a pwASPD. BPD splits can *really* flare my symptoms - both the "positive" and "negative" splits. When it's the type of split where he gets hyper-attached and needs a lot of attention out of nowhere, I can get tired easily with this, especially because just saying (and meaning) that I'm not going to leave is not good enough. It makes me want to interact less when he is obsessively trying to interact more. The types of splits where a pwBPD pushes someone away to avoid being left can be especially problematic for both people involved, as very often the pwASPD will essentially go "okay, bye then" and detach. That can be a lot for pwBPD to deal with, even though we're sometimes willing to go back on that. I have to stop myself when my partner gets in that kind of split to keep from "calling his bluff" so to speak, because that will worsen things for him.

In both romantic and platonic relationships, pwBPD and pwASPD can end up very toxic for each other, as some pwBPD will follow pwASPD into destructive situations and with our issues with regard for others' wellbeing, we may not always stop you. In fact, sometimes it's proof to us that you actually DO care about us, which, of course, is messed up for everyone involved.

That said, the more destructive behaviors pwBPD sometimes struggle with are VERY unlikely to surprise or scare a pwASPD. "Oh, you got freaked out and threw something, but you didn't throw it at me or break anything of mine? Ok, cool. What a mood. No, why tf would I leave you over that? I did that like 2 days ago. You're chill now right? Ok let's go get Taco Bell." From what my partner has told me, this can (and has) stop an episode in it's tracks because when the destructive behavior that is meant to push me away doesn't even make me blink twice and I'm still entirely cool with him, it sometimes completely reassures him that I'm not going anywhere and we can move on.

It can go either or both ways, depending on the day, on how a pwASPD and a pwBPD in close relationships of any type will interact, but generally I prefer pwBPD over other prosocials because most of what pwBPD do and say makes sense to me - even the irrational things are done out of a fear of or response to being abandoned, and handling that poorly is something I entirely understand and relate to. Anecdotally, my current partner and my most recent ex (both of whom have BPD) also said that they far, far preferred pwASPD to prosocials because of how we sometimes stablize their fear of being abandoned. I was one of the only people they ever believed when they asked if they were leaving and I said "why and where tf would I go anyway".

Again, this is VERY personal and anecdotal, but I've seen asks in the askbox before that said some similar stuff, so I'm sure I'm not the only one who relates to at least some of this.

Plain text below the cut:

So I can only offer my anecdotal answer to this, but I've had very polarized responses to people with BPD. Anything I say about how my ASPD affects the person with BPD I'm speaking of has been directly told to me by that person, so I am not just assuming.

On the one hand, my partner has BPD and it makes our relationship much more functional on my end than it would with me being with someone without it. That's because my *very* limited empathy that comes with him being an Exception pairs very well with the more intense emotions a pwBPD feels. Since my empathy is limited, I am not overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions the way his exes often were. And, since his emotions are so intense, I can actually pick up on many of those emotions even with the blunted empathy. They're quiet pings on my radar, but they're there.

Further, my desire to only be around an extremely limited number of people saves him a lot of grief because his favorite person is *very* rarely interested in talking to anyone but him and a couple other close friends. The more limited the pool of people I have deep and meaningful relationships with, the less threatened he feels with me being his favorite person. Whilst he couldn't and wouldn't push someone to barely talk to anyone but him as that would be extremely abusive, me wanting to limit my interactions with people helps ease that anxiety a lot. It very much limits how much he worries that I will abandon him for someone else.

Meanwhile, the intensity of his attachment to me, while annoying during a flare, is actually something I enjoy. It's good for the ASPD unstable self-worth to know he values me that highly, and being his FP helps my brain accept that he genuinely does value me and is not using me, because I know the "hidden motivation" for him wanting me around that my ASPD convinces me everyone has. It's also one of the most stable attachments to me that anyone has had, mainly because I have very little time to detach since we do spend so much time together. Besides with my alters, it's the closest to normal love I've ever felt.

Meanwhile, the intensity of his attachment to me, while annoying during a flare, is actually something I enjoy. It's good for the ASPD unstable self-worth to know he values me that highly, and being his FP helps my brain accept that he genuinely does value me and is not using me, because I know the "hidden motivation" for him wanting me around that my ASPD convinces me everyone has. It's also one of the most stable attachments to me that anyone has had, mainly because I have very little time to detach since we do spend so much time together. Besides with my alters, it's the closest to normal love I've ever felt.

Even for my Exceptions though, there are definitely issues between a pwBPD and a pwASPD. BPD splits can *really* flare my symptoms - both the "positive" and "negative" splits. When it's the type of split where he gets hyper-attached and needs a lot of attention out of nowhere, I can get tired easily with this, especially because just saying (and meaning) that I'm not going to leave is not good enough. It makes me want to interact less when he is obsessively trying to interact more. The types of splits where a pwBPD pushes someone away to avoid being left can be especially problematic for both people involved, as very often the pwASPD will essentially go "okay, bye then" and detach. That can be a lot for pwBPD to deal with, even though we're sometimes willing to go back on that. I have to stop myself when my partner gets in that kind of split to keep from "calling his bluff" so to speak, because that will worsen things for him.

In both romantic and platonic relationships, pwBPD and pwASPD can end up very toxic for each other, as some pwBPD will follow pwASPD into destructive situations and with our issues with regard for others' wellbeing, we may not always stop you. In fact, sometimes it's proof to us that you actually DO care about us, which, of course, is messed up for everyone involved.

That said, the more destructive behaviors pwBPD sometimes struggle with are VERY unlikely to surprise or scare a pwASPD. "Oh, you got freaked out and threw something, but you didn't throw it at me or break anything of mine? Ok, cool. What a mood. No, why tf would I leave you over that? I did that like 2 days ago. You're chill now right? Ok let's go get Taco Bell." From what my partner has told me, this can (and has) stop an episode in it's tracks because when the destructive behavior that is meant to push me away doesn't even make me blink twice and I'm still entirely cool with him, it sometimes completely reassures him that I'm not going anywhere and we can move on.

It can go either or both ways, depending on the day, on how a pwASPD and a pwBPD in close relationships of any type will interact, but generally I prefer pwBPD over other prosocials because most of what pwBPD do and say makes sense to me - even the irrational things are done out of a fear of or response to being abandoned, and handling that poorly is something I entirely understand and relate to. Anecdotally, my current partner and my most recent ex (both of whom have BPD) also said that they far, far preferred pwASPD to prosocials because of how we sometimes stablize their fear of being abandoned. I was one of the only people they ever believed when they asked if they were leaving and I said "why and where tf would I go anyway".

Again, this is VERY personal and anecdotal, but I've seen asks in the askbox before that said some similar stuff, so I'm sure I'm not the only one who relates to at least some of this.