#i'd make these appear instantly if i could

[wanderbreadsworld]

Your Odd Airbnb Host

Vampire!Konig x reader

Summary: Reader travels to Europe and decides to get an Airbnb. After vetting the host, they finally booked the little cabin in Austria, only to be met by her odd host. He's. Strange to put it best. But he doesn't get in your way, nor you his. Luckily he only got up at night. Wait, what?

TWs: none so far

The plane finally landed. After hours of being stuck in one seat, I jumped at the opportunity to get out of this sardine can of human beings. Grabbing my things, I waited, albeit impatiently, for my turn to finally exit the craft. Once out of the terminal, I stepped to the side, so as not to be in the way, and then checked my phone. I had told my host when I'd be landing, and I wanted to make sure he saw my message. When I made my arrangements to do schooling here, he was kind enough to help me make most of them.

'He is waiting for you by the gate. Tall with a black suit, dark hair and sunglasses.'

Read his message, lighting up my face in the slightly dim airport. I lifted my head, and instantly spotted him as if he had just appeared. I rushed my way over, tired smile on my face as I was ready to get into a bed and sleep.

"Thank you for coming. I know he hired you for me, but thank you anyway." I thanked, grateful for his help, even if he was being paid. He gave me a small smile, taking one of my bags from me and wordlessly leading the way to the car.

The ride to the Airbnb seemed to take forever. I would have enjoyed the countryside along the way. But the fact it was night prevented me from seeing anything. And that's if I could even keep my eyes open, shamelessly falling asleep in the car. Curse my late flight.

"Miss? We've arrived." A voice pulled me from my slumber, and I realized we had made it. Overcome with excitement, my tired daze slipped away and let me be more awake. I eagerly hopped out of the car, to which the driver barely let me grab my own things, carrying them all himself. I conceded, letting him take my things. Instead, I took in the sight of the Airbnb. All the lights were on, illuminating the cabin from the inside, as well as the porch lights softly lighting my way to the front door.

The chilly night air pierced through my clothes, sending a chill down my spine, making me hurry for the door. But before I could knock, it swung open to reveal my host. A tall blonde man, easily as tall as the doorway. With piercing blue eyes. His visage took my breath away. I only shook myself out of my daze when I realized I was staring.

"Welcome. It is nice to meet you. You must be exhausted, come in!" He welcomed me inside, stepping behind the door to let me and the driver in. The warmth inside the house warmed my bones, and made me shiver as it washed over me. I barely even heard as my host behind me told the driver where to drop off my things, going ahead of me and out of sight. The inside of the cabin was cozy. I couldn't help admiring the simple, yet effective, architecture. It led me back in a circle to meet my host once more.

"Yes! Konig! It's nice to meet you finally! I wish I could've gotten here sooner. I hope I'm not interfering with your schedule, I know you said you prefer nights." I apologized, holding my hand out to shake his. He took it after a moment, seeming a little surprised I reached out to shake him hand, or even touch him at all. "It is no problem. I made sure I would be here to welcome you. I wanted to be an attentive host to help you settle in." He stopped a moment to wave the driver back out the door, sliding him a bill I could not see. "Would you like a tour now? I can give you one tomorrow evening, if you prefer to rest." His words were sweet. Each one dripping in his accent and sweet voice. It certainly did not match his physique, but I wasn't complaining about either one.

"I would take one tomorrow, if that would be alright. I'm afraid I must sleep. That flight was exhausting and I'm jet-lagged. Not used to such long flights." I chuckle lightly, rubbing one eye quickly. Konig gestured me towards the stairs. "Then I will show you to your room. If you'll follow me." From all our online interactions, he seemed sweet. And even more so now. He seemed very understanding.

Leading the way to my room, I didn't take in much detail of my surroundings. I was barely awake as he led me upstairs to the cozy little bedroom I would call mine for the next semester of school.

"I will leave you. You get some rest. I should rest soon as well. My night is nearly over." He checked his watch, realizing we were well into the A.M. by this point. "I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight." We exchanged goodbyes, and I got to close my door for the first amount of privacy I've had over the past 13 hours. I didn't even remove my clothes before climbing beneath the covers. The warmth of the cabin overtook me, and quickly lulled me into a deep sleep.

(Sorry it's kinda short, I just wanted to set this up. This fic will be very self-indulgent, with very specific details. I just wanted to share it anyway, because I like writing and wanted to share. It's been a while since I've written a fic, let alone one with chapters. Wish me luck lol.)

[idle-flower]

Amy Madison is one of those things which, like some of the subplots of DS9, I assumed that I'd missed something the first time around and that there was a lot more to it, and was disappointed on a rewatch to find that... no, not really.

Like, I thought it was super-cool that there was this tiny minor character with stuff going on in the background who would resurface seasons later instead of a "remember the new guy" plot! And obviously Willow cared about this girl and there was a whole story there, right? I wasn't religiously watching the show when it first aired so I'd probably just missed whatever her story was!

So then I did a big rewatch with a friend who'd never seen Buffy before and... ehh.

(Now, I never watched season 7 and have stricken it from my personal canon, so that already limits me.) I want Amy to make more sense and to have more story. In those few appearances there are just enough threads of a story that I can totally build a bunch of ideas, but they rapidly diverge from canon.

Because yeah, there's the "Amy decides to delve into witchcraft". Many good reasons why she might, protection from someone messing with her again being an obvious one, dark fascination and love/hate with her mother being another, but she's never given the chance to tell that story.

There's the "Amy back from the dead" which was HORRIBLY disappointing how glossed-over it was. Amy's real-world situation is more fucked-up than Buffy's was! Was she declared legally dead? How many people had any idea what had happened to her? (What happened to that Michael kid who was also in their witch circle? He knew, right? Did he used to visit Rat-Amy?) When she finally went to find her father how did she explain this to him, or did she panic and mind-whammy him because she *couldn't* explain? There could have been more detailed connections here with both Buffy's problems and Willow's problems, without having to go the ridiculous route of...

"Amy's magic druggie problem" Even leaving aside that this entire plotline is horrible, stupid, and horribly stupid, I don't for a second believe that a girl who's been stuck as a rat for years could instantly find the super-secret floating lair of the local druglord. She clearly didn't have that sort of hookup before and it wouldn't be that easy for her to find it now. She's years out of touch! And she should be struggling with magic now. She was not as powerful as fully-juiced Willow to begin with and the trauma of being ratted ought to be giving her the yips. Even if she knew this guy existed and never told Willow about it in high school for some reason, it ought to be a difficult quest on her part to find a way in.

"Amy wants revenge on Willow" A perfectly good plotline idea if they'd actually worked with it in the show, which would require making her more of a major character for a while. Because yeah, getting mad at Willow for 'ruining' her life is plausible, but we need to see Amy's life falling apart first. Even if it's almost-all offscreen because she's not a Real Scooby, it should take time for her to develop this hate-on for Willow. Because at first she'd be grateful for being saved, and then as she slowly realised how screwed she was, then she becomes resentful. Sort of an inverse of Buffy who wasn't happy about being saved and then comes to terms with it, Amy slowly gives up on trying to have her life back and decides to throw in with the dark side.

Just spitballing here. Willow, desperate to prove that she can do good things with her magic powers, de-rats Amy. Amy is thrilled at first but becomes more and more distressed as she realises that life has left her behind. How's she going to fix things with her dad? And Willow suggests magic. Willow takes her home, makes her dad accept everything with a mind-whammy, zap-zap-zap's Amy's long-turned-into-storage bedroom into something cool and modern and witchy, and leaves Amy there, feeling super proud of herself. See, it's easy! Magic really can fix everything! Cut back to Amy, alone in the dark, twitching in terror at the sounds of cats, trying to cast little spells and having them go wrong...

Reverse Unpopular Opinion: Amy Madison

[Reverse unpopular opinion meme.]

This is an interesting one because I think there’s a solid argument to be made that the character of “Amy Madison” does not, in fact, actually exist on the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

By which I mean … look, okay, yes, obviously, there is a character in an early Season 1 episode called Amy Madison, played by Elizabeth Anne Allen.  And there’s a character with the same name in a Season 2 episode, and [in an admittedly weird coincidence] she’s also played by Elizabeth Anne Allen.  And there’s one in Season 3, and a one in a few episodes of Season 6, and one in an episode of Season 7, and all of them are played by the same actor.

But … I mean, come on.  There’s no way these can all be the same character, right?  They don’t have the same basic back story or the same relationship to magic or to Willow; they certainly don’t have anything resembling a definite personality or set of motivations or a consistent character arc.  No, surely what’s going on here is that there are several different “Amy Madisons” in Sunnydale – just like there are several different characters called Anne or Nancy on the show – and in a bizarre in-joke the writers simply decided to cast the same woman to play all of them.

Now, ordinarily, simply being written inconsistently over a handful of episodes and not having anything resembling the same personality from week to week would be no obstacle to having a few die-hard fans.  But – as far as I can tell, anyway? – there’s no “fandom Amy” either.  She never really gets mentioned when people want to talk about how all the Scooby Gang had awful mothers [even though Amy actually did, explicitly and inarguably, have a very, very awful and openly abusive mother!].  There’s very little in the way of Amy/Willow shipping going on here or on AO3 [even though witchcraft is heavily coded as a metaphor for being a lesbian and Amy, one of the first witches we meet on the show, is repeatedly linked to Willow throughout the show’s run].  There are no adorable drawings of Amy as a rat staring out of her cage at Willow and Tara (or if there are, they aren’t getting as many notes as they should be getting).  

No, it looks like most people who are still watching and talking about the show twenty-five years later have about as much interest in poor Amy Madison as the writers did.  She’s a plot device.  A punchline.  A cipher.  A blank slate.  She’s whatever the plot requires her to be to further the stories of the actual characters on the show, and she’ll never ever be anything else.  Which is a little sad, if you think about it.  I think Amy – or, well, most of the different Amys: The Killer In Me’s smirking evil-for-evil’s-sake Amy I’m not so sure about – deserved better.

[As I write this the thought occurs to me, belatedly, that I might be one of Amy Madison’s biggest fans.  Pretty grim news for her if so.]

OK. Enough stalling.  Five positive things about Amy Madison [with, as ever, the usual caveat about the comics, which I’ve still not read anything about and still don’t exist].

Witch, Amy’s debut appearance, is a solid episode!  One of that season’s best, I think (though not, of course, one of its very best).  And I think the duo of Elizabeth Anne Allen's Amy Madison (and Robin Riker as her mom Catherine) is a big part of why that episode works: no, they haven’t got a huge amount to work with, but I think they both do a pretty good job switching between evil witch Catherine and innocent victim Amy.  Catherine’s bodyswap spell foreshadows (albeit unintentionally) the bodyswap artifact that the Mayor gifts Faith in This Year’s Girl / Who Are You? and I’ll always have a soft sport for it because of that.  And I really like that the episode ends with Amy alive and hanging out with Buffy in a way that suggests that they are going to stay friends, even if we don’t see any evidence on screen that that happened.

Sarcasm aside, I’m really glad the writers brought Amy back in the second season.  To me, part of the appeal of the high school years are the recurring minor characters – I talked about Principal Snyder before, but also Jonathan and Devon and Percy and Harmony and … yes, Amy too.  The show obviously doesn’t care about her very much, and you have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to fill in the missing pieces of her story and make her arc make sense (why is she starting to do magic in Season 2?  When does she start hanging out with Willow?), but … well, I do care and I have done those gymnastics.  At least Amy didn’t end up like Marcie Ross or Buffy’s old flame Owen or any of those poor kids who must remember eating Principal Flutie. 

I’ve been reading a few old interviews Elizabeth Anne Allen gave recently (here and here, for example) which I think have some pretty interesting insights into how the character of Amy developed.  Had you ever heard there were persistent rumors at one point that Amy was going to be one of the starting regulars on Angel?  It’s mind-boggling to think about a world where that happened.  Allen seems to have put a huge amount of thought into her character, too, at least for her first few appearances, which … uh, I guess makes me feel a bit shitty about those opening paragraphs. [Not enough to delete them though…]  Also in one of the linked interviews she says that she “hopes she won’t be a rat much longer” – and that’s an interview she gave before the Season 3 finale had even made it to air, which made me pretty sad to read.  Forget appearing on Angel, imagine if Amy had been de-ratted in Season 4.  Imagine if Superstar was about Amy instead of Jonathan.

There is a second or two in Season 6’s Smashed – no more than that – when Buffy and Amy are catching up again (“How have you been?”  “Rat.  You?”  “Dead.”  “Oh.”) and you can, if you’re quick, delude yourself into thinking that the show is going to do something interesting with the obvious parallel it’s just set up. Willow has now not only brought Buffy back into the regular human world [and left her struggling to live and find meaning as a college drop out with a dead mother and an absent father last seen on screen about five years ago], she’s also brought Amy back into the regular human world [and left her struggling to live and find meaning as a de facto high school drop out with a presumed-dead mother and a presumably-now-absent father last mentioned about five years ago].  Surely this must be deliberate?  Well, no: the show doesn’t do anything with this idea ever again, because Marti Noxon had very different [worse] ideas for Amy’s character this season, but if you pretend it might be about do something like that it’s a pretty exciting couple of seconds.

The fact that “Amy Madison” exists as a (technically!) canon character means that I can write (or daydream about writing) fanfiction in which Willow has a friend in high school who is also a practising witch. One with a vague but miserable home life, who is secretly in love with Willow but too afraid to admit it (and so she keeps professing to be interested in men who she can’t possibly ever expect to date, either because they’re unpleasantly vile toward women or openly gay or both). And I can do that while, just about, pretending that I have not created the most embarrasingly psychologically revealing OC you ever heard about in your life.  Thanks Amy!

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

got any fun tidbits about the porsche 944? :3

I've got a fun bit of one of those Porsches: the right indicator!

And that's a fun story, so I'll go with that.

Porsche, early to rise as always, spent all morning perfecting its latest project, a fancy little sportscar requested by none other than its day-one friend Volkswagen. After a morning spent, just like the days and nights before, working on the project with the trademark Porschefectionism, right on midday's strike the pencil was finally awarded its rightful rest. Attention turned to the phone - its dial was spun in that old, familiar pattern and, a concerning number of tones later, the line transmitted the clattering of a handset being fumbled up.

"whoizziiit?" "Guten Tag, Volkswagen! It's your friend Porsche!" "christus, tone down that vooooooice", Volkswagen yawned out. "Don't tell me I woke you up!", Porsche exclaimed flabbergasted. "i said tone it down, i've still got a splitting headache from friday. -a brief pause protested the incompleteness- and i guess from yesterday after seeing the bills. i'm really messed up. what do you want" "Oh, you will feel better now - I'm finally done!" After waiting a couple seconds, Volkswagen realized that wasn't going to be clarified. "with what" "The sportscar!" The brow furrowing could be heard from the other end of the line. "the what??" "The sportscar project, the one you commissioned me to design!" "what are you talking about?" Porsche adopted a conciliatory, clarifying tone, trying to empathize with the clearly hazy friend. "You called me Friday at 23:47, and asked me to design you a sportscar. You went on about loving me very much and wanting one of my "sick sportscar things" for a while, and then you hung up before I could ask for details. You seemed to be in a very busy room, so I didn't call back and just went to work."

A small silence filled the line.

"are you joking" "About what?" that was a no.

A small silence filled the line.

"fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck" "What's the problem?" "what did you design" "Oh, you'll love it! It's a transaxle-equipped, low-slung beauty using a 2.0l to-" "yeah bro, i'm sorry for what i... apparently told you, but like, that's all waaay too hardcore for me" "B-but... you asked me to design a sportscar..." "i was off my sheiβen that night bro. i don't remember anything past the sixth large can of dunkelbier." "Six cans of dunkelbier? But you drink those everyday!" "no, i mean those large cans, uhhh, what do you call them..." "...barrels?" "yeah." "But you do need a sportscar in your lineup... right?" "ugh, if i do i'll just flatten the golf or something. that project sucked all my money, dude." "B-but... I did all this work... and it came out so well... does it all have to go to waste then?", Porsche asked with a trembling voice that betrayed the full extent of the emotional hit - at last, waking up VW for good. "Oh, nonono! Don't worry! Uhh... you can make it yourself if you want to!" "But... but I've designed it to be built with your parts..." "Oh I can sell you the parts, it's no prob" That seemed to restore Porsche's spirits. "Really? That would be fantastic! Oh, I have a wonderful name for it already!" "Oh? What is it?" "924!" "...sure. Alright, we'll figure that out. Sieg heil bro" "Er, we don't say that anymore." "Fuck, you're right. Sorry, still a bit cloudy. Uhhh... what do people say now?" "Auf wiedersehn seems to be a popular option." "Auf wiedersehn then." "Auf wiedersehn"

Thus, Volkswagen went on to launch a lightly stepped on Golf it called Scirocco...

...and the project at the heart of our story would end up being made and sold by Porsche,

and as such, getting incrementally refined year over year over year, evolving into the 924 S, which then evolved into the more muscular 944...

...which itself, after three revisions and countless special versions, evolved into the 968.

Which itself, after a couple of special versions, almost thirty years from the 924's launch... ended production for good in 1995. And frankly, I have no idea what finally compelled Porsche engineers to let the damn thing be. Wait actually, hold on a second...

I have one idea.

Okay, to be fair, the exchange rate situation from the Kadett story had only gotten worse making a now dated platform too expensive to make sense and to low a seller to justify remaking. But worry not, they did still have the 911 to keep messing with. Combine that with Pokémon and they were still plenty enriched.

And indeed like the 911, this platform's development is essentially a long, drawn out cleansing of the VW components it started off heavily based on. While the 356 was simply based on a VW platform, though, the 924 was a hodgepodge of bits from all over - engine from the LT van, brakes from the K70, front suspension from a mix of Golf and Beetle...

(I can feel your pulse thumping at the mere idea of a mix of these)

...and of course, this extended to one of the most recycled part of all: the side indicators. And that's important. Because my old Volksvagen had a broken indicator, and I happened to know of an abandoned 924 'round here. C:

Although it did take some work (while the lens was the same, the base was different, so it had to be transplanted from my broken unit - there were probably a couple variants of this part for reasons), I now officially participate in the popular trend of putting Porsche bits on your Golf.

Not in a way that actually makes any difference, but hey.

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question: if you liked this post, you might like those - or the blog’s Discord server, linked in the pinned post!

[iluvmattsbeard]

down on my knees (m.s)

master list

nerd!matt x popular!reader

warnings: smut/oral sex (fem receiving)

preview: you assume matt is what he appears to be. a virgin nerd with no experience. when helping you study, you have him down on his knees, pleading to prove to you, he can take you there.

a/n: sorry i watched deadpool and wolverine. this song with the scene had me creaming. listen as you read. OKAY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. LIKES, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE SO APPRECIATED. 🤍

everyone knew who you were. when your name is spoken, it's always the same thing said. you basically had a trance on everyone, especially a specific individual. this person would freeze up more than anyone else when you're around. the hold you have on this person is unbearable, even though you've never spoke to each other. the school's biggest nerd and easy target, Matt Sturniolo. it was no shock you haven't spoke to him. you never even blinked an eye at him. you two were in two different worlds, you had no business ever speaking to him and he for sure felt like he had no place to even be near you.

it's not like you choose to not know who he is. he doesn't put himself out there, he has no friends, and he's always just quiet. the only friends he had were his triplet brothers. you knew who Chris was because of his reputation in sports and you knew Nick because he was the talk of the school ever since he came out. like mentioned, Matt was absolutely hooked onto you. when you would enter the classroom, he feels his palms sweat and his eyes are glued onto you like he's seen an angel from heaven.

despite what everyone says about you, how mean, how stuck up, and how careless you can be, in his head, you're more than that. he blocks out all the negativity said about you and in his head, he has some delusion that he could figure you out. he feels deep down, there's more to you than your rough persona.

right now, it was lunch time. Matt is sat with his brothers and their friends. Chris and Nick, despite how different they are from Matt, they've always vowed to never let Matt be alone. they try to include him in everything but, he chooses to sit there in silence. he knew deep down he didn't fit in and it's obvious his brothers' friends also knew that.

he sits there quietly as he pokes at his food. his attention is soon caught, it's like he has a radar, he looks up slightly as you walk past their table. you were with your friends, talking to them as you head over to your table. for Matt, it was all in slow motion as you walked by. he swears he can see your skin glisten and the way your hair bounced, he was in a trance. "dude." he instantly gets brought back to reality when he hears Chris' voice, "you're staring- again." Matt looks back down at his food as he swallows slightly, "was I?" he asks quietly, a bit embarrassed he's been caught. this wasn't the first time though.

"yes. what is your obsession with her? you've never even spoke to her." Chris utters with a bit of food in his mouth. Matt looks at him with a bit of disgust, "can you swallow your food first?" Matt suggests, which makes Chris chuckle and swallow his food. "okay well, what is your obsession with her?" he repeats his question, "you've never talked to her and trust me, she's way out of your league." he adds on, making Matt tense up a bit. it was true, he really didn't belong in your world. it would make no sense, the two of you colliding. "i'd save yourself the heart break." Chris speaks up again.

"how would you know?" Matt mutters, making the brother raise an eyebrow slightly, "how do I know what?" he asks confused. "how do you know she would break my heart? if I haven't even tried?" Matt asks stupidly. he knew the answer already but once again, a little part of him believes he could break down your walls if he just had the confidence. Chris laughs at his question, "no offence but, look at you." he pauses glancing over at me, "now look at her. she would crush you." he finishes as he stuffs his mouth again. there was no point in Matt continuing this conversation. Matt looks over at you and sighs. "heaven help me." he thought to himself.

later that day, Matt walks into his final class, which to his delight, you were in. he makes his way to the back of the class, sitting down in his usual seat. he begins to take out his notebook and textbook as he lets out a quiet breath. you walk in, once again, Matt's eyes land on you and he blocks out everything else. as he watches your every move, he expects you to just walk to your usual seat in the front. he then sees you walk down his aisle, he swears he's just imagining things. you're looking right at him, making his heart stop. eventually, he gets knocked from his trance as you sit in the seat next to him.

"no one sits here right?" you ask Matt, not even looking over at him. he gulps as he begins to speak up, "n-no." he manages to let out. Matt shuts his eyes and turns to face the front. he feels like he sounded like a loser. you sit there silently as you secretly go on your phone while the class starts. Matt can't help but take small glances at you. he felt nervous even though you were just minding your own business. "what is going on?" he thought to himself. why were you suddenly sitting in the back? right next to him? he shakes off the questions as he tries his best to focus on the teacher's voice.

as days go by, Matt notices you continuing to choose to sit in the back, right next to him. it was like a dream but, still no words exchanged between you two but the first day you sat there. where he thought he sounded like an idiot, even though all he said was no to your question. Matt sits there quietly, he notices you dozed off into your arms as the teacher speaks. he can’t help but look at you in admiration. you looked peaceful; sleeping angel like. you flutter your eyes open, catching his gaze as you whisper groggily, "were you just watching me sleep?" you ask sitting up. his eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head, "what- no- I was just- nervous for you." he lets out panicked. you laugh quietly while you shake your head, "relax, it was just a question." you say surprisingly okay with catching him just now.

Matt feels his heart racing as he lets out an exhale of relief. "did I miss anything important?" you ask looking at him. was this really happening? were you really actually trying to have a conversation with him? "u-uh... not really." he mutters nervously. "okay that's good. i'm like very behind in this class." you say which, it's like the teacher heard you, the teacher speaks up, "Y/n, Matt, I need to talk to you both at the end of the class." Mr. Lionel says. you groan quietly before speaking up, "okay..." Matt's head is racing. why did he have to speak to the both of you? the BOTH of you...

when the final bell rings, you and Matt get up at the same time, heading over to the front of the class. you both stop in front of Mr. Lionel's desk as you let out a sigh, "what's it about?" you ask not enthused at all. he clears his throat, "well, Y/n, i'm sure you're aware that your grade in this class isn't the best." he starts off, "Matt here, can help you bring that grade up if you're willing." you look over at Matt, your eyes trailing down his figure slowly. he gulps as he watches you analyze him, "what is she thinking?" he thought to himself.

you look back at your teacher before nodding and speaking up, "alright." if Matt's heart was racing before, it is now bouncing off the walls. alright? that's all you had to say? no argument?

Mr. Lionel looks over at Matt, "you okay with that Matt?" he asks, snapping him back to reality, "what? uh- y-yeah." Matt responds sheepishly, his cheeks a bit flustered. "great. you two speak to each other and come up with an arrangement that's good for the both of you." the teacher says, making you both nod. he greets you and Matt goodbye, Matt instantly walking out the classroom. he can't believe he was just assigned to tutor you, and YOU agreed. he continues walking down the hall before he hears his name being called.

"Matt!" he turns around quickly before locking eyes on you, heading over to catch up to him. he freezes in his place as he stutters out, "y-yeah?" he feels like his heart can't catch a break. "you want to come over tonight?" you ask so casually. meanwhile, Matt feels like he's about to explode. "w-what?" he asks a bit dazed. "to study." you add on with a small laugh. he blinks repeatedly before having the courage to respond, "yes!" he clears his throat, "yes... I would like that." he says, trying to push down his eagerness. "okay. give me your phone." you say, no question, he instantly pulls out his phone, fumbling a bit before he hands it to you.

you type in your number and send yourself a text so that you can receive his number as well. you hand back his phone before pulling out your own, "alright i'll text you the address. come over at like 5. that's when my parents aren't home." you say making him choke up, "w-what?" Matt asks nervously but you just wave at him and walk away.

as he gets in his car, he sits there still in disbelief. it's like his prayers have been answered. he also doesn't want to get his hopes up though. it's just tutoring, right? he's still confused by why you wanted him there without your parents home. it made his heart race once more. he gets pulled out from his thoughts as Chris and Nick stumble into the mini van. Matt clears his throat as he puts on his seat belt, "can you drive me to the mall later?" Chris asks as he puts on his own seat belt. "can't." Matt says bluntly, his younger brother's eyes widening slightly, "what- why?" he asks caught off guard. "i'm going to tutor someone later." Matt says, sparing the details but, that's all Chris had to know to not question even further. it's no surprise to him that Matt has to tutor someone. Matt was the smartest person he knew.

*time skip*

after spraying some cologne on himself, he walks out his room and out the house. when he's settled into the driver's seat, he pulls out his phone and puts your address into the GPS. he was still replaying your words earlier about how your parents would be out. his hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly as he makes his way to your house.

when he's arrived, he takes the key out of the ignition. he lets out a small sigh, his heart pounding at the fact he's actually about to be with you, alone. he gets out the car and makes his way up your pathway. he rings the doorbell, waiting anxiously as he looks around. nice house he thought to himself. after a bit, you open the door. Matt's eyes immediately running down your figure. you were in a matching pajama set. his heart stops, he was now feeling self conscious at the fact he's wearing a button up shirt. "hey, come in." you say as you open the door more for him to walk in. he steps inside nervously as he looks around. "come, my room is upstairs." you speak, already heading up the stairs. he follows closely behind you.

*time skip*

you both have been sat on your bed as you lay on your stomach, flipping through the text book. "s-so... do you understand it?" Matt asks, hoping he's done a good job at explaining the subject. you look at him with a blank expression, "no." you let out bluntly, a small laugh following afterwards. "o-oh well- I can explain it again-." he gets cut off by you, "no it's fine. this is hopeless." you sigh softly, closing your text book. "my brain hurts." you add on. Matt sits there, tensing up a bit as he clears his throat, "oh- w-well... maybe some other time." he says closing his text book. you two have been going over the subject for like a hour.

"you're leaving?" you ask curiously. Matt looks at you as he stuffs his textbook into his bag, "um... well I was assuming you were done..." he admits quietly. "oh I just thought we were taking a break." you chuckle, "but alright." he straightens up as he quickly chimes in, "oh that works too." not wanting to leave just yet. you sit up, now legs crossed as you look at him, "so... why did you want me over while your parents are gone?" he asks, gulping a bit. "no distractions." you respond casually. he was amazed by how easily you can speak. he feels like he has a lump in his throat. "do you always wear those button up shirts to tutor?" you ask tilting your head a bit. "uh... no- but- I just wanted to wear something nice." he stutters out nervously. did you think it was bad? your eyes trail over his shirt, "it's nice. suits you." you compliment. he didn't know if that was a good thing or bad thing. "dressing up for me or something?" you ask. "u-uh well- kind of- yes..." he sighs in defeat.

"that's sweet." you say with no emotion in your voice. "did you think this was going to go somewhere?" you ask bluntly. his eyes widen a bit, "what? what's that supposed to mean?" he asks a bit startled. "like were you expecting something out of this?" you ask, "like a handy or a blowjob or what?" the question makes his eyes widen even more, "what? of course not!" he responds panicked, "t-that's not- I- I wasn't even thinking that." he says flustered. you chuckle softly, "i'm just messing with you." you say before going on your phone, "you don't even seem like the type." you conclude. he's caught off guard, "w-what's that supposed to mean?" he asks. you look up from your phone and meet his gaze, "you don't seem like the type to do that stuff. I mean-" you pause putting your phone down, "do you even have experience?" you ask. "well... not exactly..." he admits embarrassed by the confession.

"see? I knew it." you let out a small humorous scoff. "I-I guess I just haven't had the time..." he says, trying to seem like he's too busy to gain experience, and not because he's a total loser. you raise an eyebrow slightly, "oh so it's not by choice?" you ask, not really believing it as you stand up and put your textbook back into your bag. he stays quiet for a bit before speaking up, "yeah no... just too busy for it..." he says quietly. you let out a small snark with a small grin, "yeah okay." you respond still not buying it. Matt has this sudden urge to fight back, he also knew you weren't buying it so he makes a move he never expected to make, "I mean I have the time now." he utters, making him widen his eyes a bit. you look up at him as you tilt your head slightly, "oh so you did come here expecting something." you say, crossing your arms. "no! no... but- forget it." he mumbles embarrassed as he picks up his bag.

you sit at the edge of the bed as you speak up, "no. go ahead. since you have time." you say, not having very high expectations. he freezes in his spot as he looks at you, "w-what?" he asks with his heart pounding. "you heard me." you say, propping your arms back behind you slightly. he puts his bag down slowly as he steps in front of you. he looks down at you as you tilt your head a bit. you blink up at him, waiting for his move, not amused. Matt then slowly gets on his knees, your eyes follow him, now looking down at him. he places his hands nervously on the waistband of your pajama shorts. he looks up at you and back down at his hands as he begins to slide your shorts down slowly, revealing your white lace panties. his breath hitches in his throat as he continues to pull them down your silky legs, now leaving you in just your panties. he takes a moment to admire you in front of him as he begins to kiss your inner thighs slowly and softly, making you roll your eyes a bit at how slow he's being. he then trails those kisses up, placing a soft kiss on your clothed cunt, your eyes watching him closely. he then kisses up your stomach, his face now stopped in front of your face.

he swallows before placing his lips onto yours, everything was slow and you kiss him back. after a bit, you pull away, "okay um. I don't think this is going to work." you say about to sit up completely but he stops you. he gets back onto his knees, now yanking your panties down. you gasp slightly by the sudden action as he takes in the sight of you bare. he grips under your thighs as he pulls you closer to his face. your heart begins to race by his sudden anticipation and change of demeanor. his mouth was so close to your core, you can feel his breath against it. Matt gulps as he glances up at you, then looking back down at your folds. "heaven help me." he thinks to himself before diving his tongue into you. at first, you weren't feeling it, you sort of felt bad for his lack of experience but then, he begins to suck on your clit, making you sit up and look down at him. your mouth slowly falling open, surprised by his action. he continues to suck on your clit, you feel yourself getting wet as he works his mouth. your breath began to hitch as he ran his tongue up your now slick folds.

he flattens out his tongue, continuing his upward motion. you gasp softly, quickly biting your lip. you didn't expect to be enjoying this. he darts his tongue in and out of your entrance, making you moan out a bit louder than you expected. he looks up at you as he melts against your wet folds. he watches as you crumble above him. he swirls his tongue around your clit, making you throw your head back at the sensation, "M-Matt." you moan out. the sound of his name rolling of your tongue made him go insane. the way you moan, it was like an angelic sound in his ears. he moves his tongue against your clit, side to side as you gasp, gripping his hair with your eyes shut. he begins to suck on your slit again as he unexpectedly pushes a finger into you. "f-fuck!" you moan out as he pumps his finger, while still sucking on your clit. his eyes still on you, he knows he's doing this right.

you buck your hips up slightly, starting to feel your legs shake a bit, you have never experienced pleasure like this before. Matt pulls his finger out of you as he grips your thighs, holding them in place roughly. you let out a small whimper. the feeling of his tongue was sort of overpowering. he groans against your folds, sending vibrations through out your body. his hands grip your thighs harder as he dives his mouth in deeper. he was completely in the moment, the taste of your juices on his tongue, making him want more and more. he continues darting his tongue into you, wet noises filling the room. "you're so wet." he mumbles against you, lapping his tongue up your folds. you grip his hair a bit harder as you continue to moan. you couldn't believe the school's biggest nerd is in between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

he then flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit as he looks up at you. you gasp once again, eyes darting down at him, "how was he so good at this?" you thought to yourself. he then pushes two fingers this time into you, catching you off guard. he pumps his slender fingers in and out at a quick motion as he swirls his tongue sloppily. you arch your back as you grip the sheets above you, "fuck Matt!" you moan loudly, making him ache in between your legs. this only drives him to go faster, pumping his fingers into you even faster as he sucks on your clit. the combination combines make your stomach swirl, "Matt i'm gonna-." you let out shakily as you arch your back even more, your eyes clenched shut, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as you experience the best orgasm you've ever had. you release all over his mouth as he keeps his mouth on you.

your legs shake as he continues to eat you out, despite you already releasing. he grips your thighs hard as he watches you shake uncontrollably under his touch. you swear you could now see stars as he groans against you once more. you push his head away as you look down at him in shock.

he licks his lips and his cheeks are flustered. you stare at him in disbelief as you try to catch up with your breathing. his eyes dart back down to your messy wet core as he looks back up at you, “h-how was that?” he asks shyly. “how could he act so shy after that?” you thought to yourself. he’s still on his knees as he waits for your response. it irritated you slightly at how much you enjoyed it, especially because you were so confident he would be terrible at it. when you finally calm down your breathing, you sit up and look down at him.

“what do you think?” you ask in disbelief. he feels his face heat up as he scratches the back of his neck, “uh…” he chuckles breathlessly, “good?” he questions. you push his glasses back up slowly as they were resting at the tip of his nose, “let’s just say, you are not what you seem.” you let out still in shock.

a/n: nerd matt has my heart.

tags! (comment if you want to be added)

@jnkvivi @fuckshitslover @nicksgirlfriend @mwahsturns @sturniolo-fann @etvar12 @hxnnah24 @strnlxlqve @sturncakez @sturnioloremarker @3lizaluvs @lanaswifeyy @dirtylittleheart333 @luzsturniolo @sturnpooks @sturnioq @c6ina @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @sweetangelgirl7 @fratbrochrisgf @l0vergrlll @deadiish @dykes4chris @blahbel668 @sturnfannn @schlutt4matty @scarlett-or-wtv @suyqa @strtrckrz @sturniluvr @alexisxena @fratboychrisera @unhingedrobin @edgemaster696

[sunnymoonxx]

❝erotic melancholia❞ | qimir x reader

pairing: qimir x reader

summary: healing your wounds and sore muscles took longer than expected, so qimir decided to offer you his bathtub in the middle of his cave. along with some side offerings.

warnings: this is more of a short scribble so if you decide to jump in, have a nice stay and enjoy the food, starring very soft and gentle qimir - something to relax to i guess, soft physical touch, sensual touches, comfort, massage?

this is very comforting and romantic, i'd say so all you horndogs can move, with love <3 this is how i want osha and qimir to interact once, GIVE ME THEM FOREHEAD TOUCHES

a/n: as i was writing this a fucking spider dropped on me from the ceiling- i may have had a heart attack and i pissed my pants a little

now playing, 13 beaches by lana del rey

The echo of dripping water resonated through the dimly lit cave, mingling with the soft hum of distant waves crashing against the rocky shore outside. The natural formation of the cave walls created a snug, sheltered alcove where a makeshift bathtub had been fashioned from smoothed stones and lined with soft moss. Small glowing crystals embedded in the rock provided a gentle, otherworldly light that bathed the cavern in a warm, ethereal glow.

You stood at the entrance of the cave, your body aching from the skirmish with the Jedi knights earlier that day. Bruises and shallow cuts adorned your skin, and your muscles protested with every movement. Qimir knelt beside the stone tub, pouring a mixture of healing herbs and soothing oils into the steaming water, the aroma of exotic alien flowers, and restorative essences filling the air.

"I think it's ready now," he said, his voice echoing softly in the enclosed space. He looked up at you with concern etched in his features. "This should help with the soreness."

You managed a weary smile, your gratitude evident despite your exhaustion. "Thank you." You simply smiled, adoring Qimir from the other side of the cave. As much as you appreciated Qimir's work and his loyalty to you, you kept your distance. Even if your heart desired the opposite.

Qimir stood up, giving you space to approach the tub. You noticed he had even placed a new robe and new clothes. Looking at them as you made your way to them, you appreciated he matched your size and taste. You felt a surge of warmth dancing in your chest as you looked at him, his unspoken admiration clear in every thoughtful gesture.

He was beautiful in the dim lit cave, the light reflecting over his sharp features. You didn't want to push him away, but you weren't comfortable taking your clothes in front of him. You didn't mind him seeing you bare, but his stare as you'd take of your clothes made you uneasy and caused a strange feeling in your stomach.

As if he could read your thoughts, which he probably did, he apologised and made his way to the corner of the cave, to make you more comfortable.

"When you're ready, let me know." his voice echoed through the cave, startling you as you carefully took of your robe and pants, gently throwing them on the ground above the tub.

With a deep breath, you stepped into the warm water, the heat instantly beginning to soothe your battered body. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of relief as the tension started to melt away.

Behind the corner of the cave, Qimir lingered for a moment, ensuring you were under the water before he spoke again.

"May I?" he asked, tenderness in his voice. Smile creeped its way to your lips, his voice warming you more than the water around you.

You opened your eyes and gave him a small nod. "You may."

As he appeared again, he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar, adorable way.

As he quietly entered the cave, the sounds of the island and the soft hum of the Force filled the space, you sank deeper into the tub. The warmth seeped into your bones, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing you were safe and cared for in Qimir's hidden sanctuary.

Qimir slowly made his way around you to kneel down behind your back. You kept your eyes closed, dozing off in the warm water that melted your pain away. Slowly, you felt Qimir's hand reach your hair, lifting it up and gently braiding it into a small braid. As he finished your hair, he moved it to the side over your shoulder, leaving your back exposed.

"If you won't be comfortable with anything, tell me." He leaned to your ear, whispering, not wanting to startle you from your peaceful setting.

You murmured something back, too distracted by the comfort of it all. The water hugged and caressed your wounds, the chilliness of the cave and Qimir's hands slowly massaging your shoulders. You wanted to melt, and you were sure you were about to.

Qimir's fingers danced their way around your sore muscles, around your neck, and between your shoulder blades. You liked the way they made you feel relaxed and at peace, clearing your mind from intrusive thoughts. When he offered you his tub, you were sceptical at first and didn't want to listen to him. Now you were glad you did as for all the pain and soreness dissapered, melted into the water and Qimir's fingers.

You were so lost in his touch that you were unaware of the noises you began to make, Qimir's lips turning into a soft smile. He felt proud that he made you feel comfortable and safe after the rough day you went through. He secretly wanted to jump inside and enjoy the smells and hot water together, but he respected your privacy, acknowledging you weren't that familiar with each other yet.

He didn't mind. You were close to him, and that was all that mattered to him at that moment.

"Where did you learn to do this?" you asked out of nowhere, wanting to break the silence no matter how comforting it was. Qimir's voice felt way warmer.

"Friend of mine." he replied, not stopping his movements around your right shoulder blade. "She taught me a lot."

A small sting of jealousy ran through your heart as he mentioned the unknown being. You felt ridiculous. He was obviously very charming, and it would be stupid to think he didn't share himself with anyone over his life.

"She died a long time ago," he added, sensing the tension forming around you. If Qimir's hands didn't hold you in place, you'd sink yourself under the water.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, his hands now around your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You didn't hear him answer, and the urge to turn around and apologise again grew stronger with every passing second.

"You mentioned your arms hurting too," he spoke, changing the conversation. "Do you want me to take a look?" he stopped massaging your neck, but his hands never left your skin, letting them rest on your shoulder.

"If it won't bother you," you replied quietly, staring at your feet below the water.

"I wouldn't ask if it did," you heard him smile, his fingers moving in slow circles on your skin.

"You can jump in while you do it." You didn't know what magical force let you say your thoughts out loud, but it was too late. You felt redness overtake your face as the silence kept stretching.

"Do you want me to?" Qimir wanted to make sure he heard you right before stripping himself.

"I want you to fix my arms." You coughed, hoping he didn't marge into your head and read your thoughts as he pleased to do many times before.

You wanted to speak again as another silence took over, but Qimir's hands leaving your shoulders and the sound of his clothes dropping right next to yours shut you up.

At the moment you saw his bare ankles next to you, you dropped your gaze down, nervously playing with your hands below the water. You heard a splash when Qimir sinked into the water, the close proximity melting your thoughts away. You dared to look up at him, choking on the air.

His jawline and high cheekbones prominent in the light, his two small pigtails on the opposite side of his head exposing his forehead and sharp eyes. He was one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen and no matter how cliche it sounded in your head, you didn't dare to deny it.

His chest glittered as the droplets found his way around him, the water reaching to his hips. He was ethereal.

You notice a small smirk on his lips as he lets you brush your stare on him before reaching out for your arm underwater, his eyes never leaving yours. He could have dropped his gaze and look down. He would easily see through the water, but he didn't. Instead, he admired your face, his fingers dancing its way around your arm to find the tense muscles.

"What is your mask made of?" You genuinely wondered, wanting to ask since you saw it deactivate lightsabers. You watched him now concentrating on fixing your arm, his fingers moving in sharp but tender movements.

"Cortosis," his voice low and raspy, his presence intoxicating. He radiated warmth, beating the hot bath he prepared for you. "Like the one we used as younglings." he explained further, his hand reaching your bicep, making him move closer to you. If you'd extend your hand, you wouldn't be able to stretch it fully before meeting Qimir's chest. The proximity and soft touch drove you crazy.

"So it's just you and the Force," you added before he could finish his further explanation. Despite staring at his hands, you didn't miss the acknowledging look he gave you.

"And whatever you bring with you." he whispered, nodding his head, his eyes falling back to your arm. When he finished your right hand, he reached out for your left, but before he could do so, you hid both of your arms behind your back, looking up at him with amusement playing on your lips.

"And what do you bring there with you?" you wondered, your gaze dancing between his lips and his black eyes. His half lidded eyes made you switch position so you could press your legs together. He didn't miss it even tho he acted like he did.

"My partner, I hope." he tilted his head, trying to read your expression. Nodding, acknowledging his answer, you didn't move. You let your eyes drop to his chest, around his nipples, fown to his abdomen. And back up.

Nervously, you played with your fingers behind your back as the silence took its place again. But this time, it was different. The awkwardness vanished, and something else took over.

"Have you found one yet?" Your mind traced back to the person he mentioned a few minutes back, wondering if she was his partner and he lost her. Or maybe he never found one, forever wondering for someone to fill his soul.

"I think I may have." he replied, moving slowly towards you, the water hugging his torso. "But I'm not sure if the person found me."

He was right in front of you. You could swallow his breath. His deep, longing eyesz scanning yours, his lips partially opened. His hair loosened up, falling over his forehead.

"She did," you whispered back, letting his hand caress your cheek before meeting his lips with yours. The softness of his lips made your knees betray you, but his arms were there to catch you. Your hands moved from your back to rest against his chest, feeling his soft glow skin. Your fingers drew shapes around his scars, wanting to love and learn every single one. His arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you even closer to him. Wanting to feel every inch of you.

Candles flickered around the cave, casting a soft, golden glow that danced with the shadows. The fragrance of the candles mingles with the warmth of the water, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility.

You leaned back, enveloped by the soothing embrace of the water and Qimir's arms around you. His chest is firm and reassuring, his lips soft and sweet as you imagined clouds would feel. You felt his steady heartbeat, a reminder of their presence and yearning.

In that moment, all pain and worries melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and security. Qimir's arms were your sanctuary, always ready to catch you when you stumbled and to hold you when you needed it most.

The feeling was a blend of love and ecstasy, as if every touch and whispered word from Qimir's lips was a promise of unwavering yearning and affection. The chill in the air around you only enhanced the cozy, intimate warmth you shared, making this moment all the more precious.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the blissful combination of the hot bath, the ambient candlelight, and the tender embrace of Qimir's lips. In his arms, you didn't find just comfort, but a profound, soulful connection that filled you with an enduring sense of peace and love.

[dreamlifebunny]

how to script your dream life and use it with any method!

hello friends! today i want to share with you how i personally script my dream life, and how this script is both my void list, states list, and precursor to almost every manifestation method i've ever used. i love scripting because it is not only a method in and of itself but it is also a simple list of everything you desire that you can now manifest using any method you love!

check back later for a link to my scripting templates. in the meantime, here are the steps to creating your perfect script from scratch with examples! all you need is a place to write it down.

step one:

time to brain dump! at the top of your page, write out every desire that comes to your head in list format. don't overthink it and don't worry if they sound silly or unrealistic; remember, absolutely anything is possible! you can write out a few desires to start or go hardcore and write out hundreds, whatever you feel inspired by. you can always come back to this step later. here is my example:

step two:

now its time to get organized! look at the desires you've written and figure out what subcategories they fall under. for example, "my eyes are light blue and gorgeous" could fall under the category of "appearance," and "i have $100,000 in my bank account" could fall under the category of "wealth and items." feel free to use any category name that makes sense to you.

step three:

now that you have a couple of categories written out and understand the structure of the script, your mind might start to have even more ideas. "ooh, now that i see revision is a category, there are a couple more things i'd like to revise..." or "why stop at one SP when i could have everyone chasing after me?" for step three, we go a little deeper into these categories and add more details of what our dream life will look like. you can also add new categories that pop into your head - in the example below, i've added "the world and society" and "skills and abilities."

note: the reason why i broke this up into multiple steps instead of just writing "write out all your desires at once" is because our brains can be mean to us and make us procrastinate if something isn't done "perfectly," so that's why adding an extra step is important to bypass the perfectionism.

optional steps:

because scripting is such a creative and expansive process, we might think of ideas we'd like to manifest in the future but not right now/not instantly. i like to organize my script further by adding another category: "future manifestations." these are ideas that i would love to manifest at some point later on but not necessarily while my dream life is manifesting right now.

another idea is separating categories even further into "instant manifestations" (manifestations that happen right now without things needing to unfold) or "perfect timing manifestations" (manifestations that slowly unfold naturally and linearly), if you want to get specific about how they show up in your life! however, these steps are completely optional and just fun details for specificity, and i can make a more detailed post on this later.

how you can use your script with any method:

scripting has been used as a successful manifesting and shifting method on its own forever because it specifically addresses one of the most important steps in the manifesting process - deciding what you want! by writing out what you want in your dream life, you can now decide that your script will manifest on its own or you can use any method under the sun to fulfill yourself within:

the void state: if you enter the void state to manifest, you could affirm "i have everything in my dream life script"

affirming: you can affirm "everything in my dream life script has come true"

visualization: you could create an imaginative scene where all of your desires from your script are fulfilled, or you can imagine looking at your script and smiling because everything came true

subliminals: you can create a very simple subliminal where all of your desires are included, or even a sub where the only affirmation is "i have everything in my dream life script"

the possibilities with scripting are absolutely endless. i hope that this guide has given you the inspiration and direction to write your own wonderful and unique script. now, go and get your dream life!

have fun! bunny 💕

[littlefreya]

Pictures of You

Summary: While Sy is deployed, his new girlfriend sends him nudes, and now he must take care of 'business' himself while fantasizing about the things he would do to her.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x himself x OFC

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), pure smut, graphic depiction of sex (male x female), male masturbation, bodily fluids, accidental creampie, dirty language, punishment, Freya using "peach". Being caught in the act. A bit of fluff. Not beta'd.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, translating, copying it, or parts of it and claiming it as your own*

A/N: It's been a while since I posted. I am working on a series (plural), but I got inspired by a lovely anon today. I'm not sure if I'm tagging anyone since my tag list is probably outdated and I'm not sure who still wants on. So, if you enjoyed, reblog, or comment, let me know. I'd appreciate it. 🖤

Pictures of You

At last, night unfurled, and the camp became quiet. 

The glorified Captain retired to his quarters, exhausted from a day of training recruits and tedious paperwork. This deployment would be long, and though he loved being The Captain - Logan Syverson was beginning to miss home.

It was all because of her. Sy shouldn't have caught feelings, long-distance relationships were never his thing, but damn, she was something else; a woman way above his league, pretty, hot as hell and way too smart to be with a military grunt like him.

Needless to say, fucking her made him feel like a god. 

Stripping down to his boxer, Sy slumped into his bed with a huff and reached for the private cell phone stuffed in his drawer. 

Twenty unanswered messages appeared on the screen—three of them from her.

Joy painted his face at the sight of her name. Ignoring everything else, he went directly to read her messages.

“Missing my big Sy”, the first message read. 

The other - “something to make you think of me.”  

The last message was simply an attachment. Curious, Sy tapped it open.

‘Fucking hell.’

The unmistakable pang of desire instantly surged through his groin. 

There she was, his sweet woman, naked and spread open like a present unwrapped, especially for him. She was sitting on her bed, one breast gripped by her palm with her nipple peeking through dark-painted nails while her other hand toyed with the sweet peach between her thighs. 

“Fuck,” Sy muttered. Already rock-hard. Absentmindedly, his hand massaged the hefty bulge through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a deep groan from under his breath. 

‘What are you doing to me, babygirl?” 

It wasn’t just her naked body and the way her finger teased her own slit, but the look she gave him, the familiar neediness in her gaze, the way she bit her lip. 

Damn, if she was here right now… He’d fucking punish her for teasing him so bad! He’d pin her to the wall with his hand around her throat and show her what happens to naughty girls who like playing such wicked games. 

Now he had three fucking months to go, and all he could think of was how bad he wanted to be inside her tight little cunt.

‘Well, guess I’ll have to take care of this myself…’

Springing his cock free from his boxers, he ran his rough fingers up and down the length of his imposing shaft - slow at first, as Sy enjoyed taking his time, just as he would with her. His thumb rolled across the crown of his cock, gently grazing the tip while he imagined flipping her against the pitted wall in this room. Make her take it from behind so he could look at that perfect rounded ass of hers and watch his cock slipping in and out of her body. 

Still holding the photo open, he focused on her succulent cunt before spitting onto his open palm and griping himself once again. Tighter this time, he squeezed onto his girth and began to fuck his own hand. 

Pants and groans sputtered from his mouth, his chest heaving as he gradually picked up the pace. In his fantasy, he parted her ass cheeks and teased her dripping little hole until she begged him to fuck him. Then he forced himself all the way in, making her cry out. 

The sounds of her moans echoed in his memory, so helpless and desperate at the same time - he was nearly too much for her; that narrow cavern of hers could barely take his leviathan cock, but still, she took every pounding, becoming wetter around his shaft as her body not only yielded to accommodate him but lured him deeper inside. 

“I want inside you, babygirl…” Sy mumbled out loud, his hand now moving in ecstatic fervour. Sweat dripped down the contracting muscles of his abs. Soon, he felt himself swell even larger, and his sack strained with the desperate need for release. 

He tightened his grip, now choking his shaft and thinking of how it felt when she came around him. How she contracted all around his cock and shattered like glass smashing on the floor.

“Don’t come inside….” She’d warned him. She wasn’t on the pill. But this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from filling her full of his cum, and maybe… he wouldn’t want to… 

It was his fantasy, after all. 

“FUCK!!!” 

With the image spilling inside her, he allowed himself to be swept by the fierce waves of pleasure, his entire body buzzing with bliss as hot, thick ribbons of ecstasy spilt over his fingers. He might have shouted too loudly, but it’s not like he ever gave a fuck. 

It took Sy a few good minutes to climb down to earth, and then he chuckled hoarsely as he noticed the mess he had left on his hand. Shaking his head, he reached for a towel and wiped himself clean before returning to gaze at her photo. 

“What am I gonna do with you, doll?”

Well, there was an idea. He could repay the favour by sending her a photo of himself. Usually, he was against this type of stuff, but what she did was particularly risky for a woman, and if she was bold enough to treat him, he could do the same. Besides, they had three months until they could meet again. He better make sure she remembered who she belonged to.  

He stroked himself lightly. Still semi-hard, he wondered whether he could work himself to another erection this soon when a knock sounded at the door.

“Mother of f…. One moment !!!” 

Sy yelled. Irritated, he briefly tucked his shaft back in his boxers and jumped out of bed. The room smelled rancid, but Sy couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even bring himself to put on a shirt as he rushed to the door.

“What?” He grunted before getting to see who was on the other side.

‘Well, fuck me sideways.’

It was a woman because why the hell not? Private Hicks, to be precise. The young thing’s eyes flared with surprise and then snapped to the floor to avoid staring at her sweaty, half-naked superior, but not before catching a glance of his hairy, tattooed chest and the semi-erected bulge in his groin.

The strong scent of sweat and sex hit her nostrils like a smack in the face. It took everything not to curl her face. There was no need to put two and two together to realise what she had just intruded. 

“Sir.” Hicks saluted in badly hidden embarrassment. 

Sy let out a deep sigh. Clearly, she knew what he was doing before she arrived. She probably heard him come all over himself right before knocking. Frankly, he wasn’t ashamed. 

“Get on with it, Private.”

“Sir,” she repeated, her voice a slight tremble. “ I’m sorry to bother you… but the Major asked me to get you.” 

Sy scratched the back of his head and groaned deeply. “Tell him I’ll be there in 10.” 

Without any other comment, he shut the door, leaving Hicks to wander back to the Major’s office, all shaken and quaking. 

As she walked away, she couldn’t help but bite her lips. All across her body, she felt those little electric streams of excitement, and her breath suddenly became shallow. She shouldn’t have thought of her superior like this, on what he did behind that closed door just a moment before she arrived, but Captain Syverson was too hot to handle and, needless to say, too loud. 

Well, she’d have to take care of herself later…

[writingforstraykids]

We'll be right here

Pairing: husband!Minchanlix x fem!reader

Word Count: 1652

Summary: Getting sick isn't as bad with your three loving husbands anymore. Each of them has their way to take care of you and try to make you feel better.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, sick!fic, husband!min, husband!lix, husband!channie, comfort, short mentions of fever, coughing, sore throat

A/N: I thought I'd write you a little something for you to enjoy until you're feeling better, wifey @slutforchanlix 🖤 As you love all three of them I decided to go for your beloved Chanlix along with Minho☺️🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You woke up feeling an unusual heaviness in your limbs, a dull ache in your head, and a scratchy throat that seemed to have appeared overnight. The bed that once felt like a sanctuary now felt like a trap as you struggled to sit up, a wave of dizziness crashing over you.

“Ugh, I feel terrible,” you mumbled to yourself, barely recognizing your own voice. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and each word was a laborious effort. You reached for your phone, squinting at the bright screen to check the time. It was still early, but you knew you needed help.

“Hey guys, I think I’m sick,” you texted the group chat with your husbands. Your fingers felt clumsy, and even typing out that short message seemed to drain what little energy you had left.

It wasn’t long before you heard footsteps hurrying down the hall. The door to your room creaked open, and Minho’s concerned face appeared, quickly followed by Felix and Chan. Minho, always the observant one, was the first to approach your bed.

“Y/nnie, why didn’t you say something sooner?” Minho’s voice was gentle but laced with worry as he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Felix knelt by the bed, his brows furrowed in concern. “You should’ve called us earlier. We’re here to take care of you, remember?”

Chan sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with concern. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you. Let’s get you comfortable first.”

Minho disappeared into the kitchen, determined to make you some soup. You could hear the clattering of pots and pans, a reassuring sound that brought a small smile to your lips despite the discomfort.

Felix, always the sweet one, began massaging your aching limbs. His touch was gentle and soothing, working out the tension that had built up in your muscles. “This will help you feel better, I promise,” he said softly, a comforting warmth to his words.

You managed a weak smile, appreciating the effort they were putting into making you feel better. “Thanks, Felix. It already helps.”

Felix grinned, his freckles dancing on his cheeks as he did. “Good, because I’m not stopping until you’re back to your usual self. And I might throw in a few jokes to speed up the process.”

You chuckled weakly, the sound turning into a cough that made your throat burn. Felix’s hand stilled for a moment, but he quickly resumed, trying to soothe the discomfort.

Chan reached over and took your hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle. “I won’t let you go through this alone. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

A tear slipped down your cheek at his words, not from sadness but from the overwhelming gratitude you felt. “You guys are amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Minho returned with a steaming bowl of soup, the aroma filling the room and making your stomach growl despite the nausea. “Alright, time for some of my special homemade soup. It’s guaranteed to make you feel better.”

He sat beside you, carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup before bringing it to your lips. “Open up, Y/nnie. Just a little at a time.”

You obediently opened your mouth, the warm broth sliding down your throat and instantly providing a bit of relief. Minho continued to feed you patiently, ensuring you ate slowly so as not to upset your stomach further.

“Thank you, Minho. This is really good,” you said between sips, feeling a bit of strength returning with each spoonful.

Minho smiled, his eyes soft with affection. “Anything for you. Just focus on getting better, okay?”

As the day went on, the three of them took turns tending to your needs. Felix continued his massages, cracking silly jokes that made you smile even when you didn’t think you had the energy to.

“What did the sick tomato say to the other tomato?” Felix asked with a grin.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What?”

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather,” Felix replied, wiggling his eyebrows comically.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound blending with a cough. “That’s terrible, Felix.”

He laughed along with you, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere in the room. “I know, but if it makes you smile, it’s worth it.”

Chan was your constant source of comfort, his presence a soothing balm to your fevered state. Whenever you felt cold, he would wrap his arms around you, holding you close and sharing his warmth. “I’m not going anywhere,” he’d whisper, his breath tickling your ear. “I’ll be right here, I promise.”

You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his steady heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. “I don’t want to get you sick,” you murmured, though your words were half-hearted. The comfort he provided was too precious to refuse.

“You won’t,” Chan assured you, his voice firm and unwavering. “Taking care of you is more important. We’ll worry about me later.”

Minho kept the soup coming, ensuring you stayed hydrated and nourished. He even prepared some herbal tea, its soothing properties helping to ease the soreness in your throat. Each sip felt like a small victory, a step closer to feeling normal again.

“Minho, you’re really good at this,” you said after finishing another bowl of soup. “Have you been practicing?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just years of taking care of you all. Plus, it’s easy to put in the effort when it’s for someone as special as you, my beautiful wife,” he winked at you, making you blush softly.

The day stretched on, with Felix’s jokes becoming a steady background to the symphony of Minho’s cooking and Chan’s comforting presence. The combination of their care and the medicine they brought you gradually began to ease your symptoms.

As the sun set and the room grew dim, Minho suggested you try to get some rest. “Sleep is the best medicine, after all. We’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the day’s exhaustion settling in. “Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Felix tucked the blankets around you, his touch gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to worry about that because we’re not going anywhere.”

Chan kissed your forehead, his lips cool against your fevered skin. “Sweet dreams, Y/nnie. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

You drifted off to sleep, their presence a comforting anchor in the haze of your illness. The night passed in a blur of fevered dreams and intermittent wakefulness, but every time you opened your eyes, one of them was there, keeping watch and ensuring you were never alone.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of quiet chatter and the smell of fresh coffee. Blinking blearily, you saw Minho setting a tray with breakfast on your bedside table, Felix fluffing the pillows behind you, and Chan smiling warmly from the foot of the bed.

“How are you feeling today?” Minho asked, his voice gentle as he helped you sit up.

“A bit better,” you admitted, surprised at the improvement. “Still tired, but not as bad as yesterday.”

Felix grinned, his eyes sparkling with relief. “That’s what we like to hear. More soup?”

You nodded, grateful for their continued care. “Yes, please. I think it’s working.” Minho handed you a bowl, and you sipped the warm broth slowly, savoring the taste. “Thank you, Minho. This really is the best soup I’ve ever had.”

He smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “I’m glad you like it. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

As you ate, Chan took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “We’ll keep taking care of you until you’re back to full strength. No rush.”

Felix leaned in, his expression playful. “And I’ve got plenty more jokes to keep you entertained. Ready for another one?”

You laughed, the sound feeling more natural and less strained. “Always.”

“What do you call fake spaghetti?” Felix asked, his grin widening.

“I don’t know, what?” you replied, curious despite yourself.

“An impasta!” he exclaimed, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the silly joke lifting your spirits. “You’re ridiculous, Felix.”

“But you love me for it,” he shot back, his grin infectious.

Chan squeezed your hand gently. “And we all love you, Y/nnie. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

Tears of gratitude welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were accompanied by a genuine smile. “I love you all too. Thank you for everything.”

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, with Minho ensuring you were well-fed, Felix keeping you entertained, and Chan providing constant comfort. They took turns sitting with you, their presence a constant reminder that you were loved and cared for.

By the time night fell again, you felt significantly better. The fever had subsided, and the aches in your body had lessened. You knew you still had a way to go, but with them by your side, you felt confident you could handle anything.

“Feeling ready for bed?” Chan asked as he helped you settle back under the blankets.

“Yeah, I think so,” you replied, exhaustion creeping in once more.

Felix kissed your forehead gently. “Sweet dreams, Y/nnie. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Minho adjusted the covers one last time, his touch tender. “Rest well. Tomorrow will be even better.”

As you closed your eyes, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Surrounded by their love and care, you knew you were in the best possible hands. And with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep, your heart full of gratitude and affection for the three amazing men who had shown you just how much they cared.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @dis-trict9

[charlottesbookclub]

i'm here (ser gwayne hightower x reader) 💚💚

Summary: you have a nightmare, but gwayne is there to comfort you 💚

Warnings/Tags: spouse!reader; gn!reader; established relationship (marriage); nightmares; angst/anxiety brought on by the nightmares; absolutely catastrophic levels of tooth-rotting fluff; let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2870

Author’s Note: as I mentioned in this post, gwayne hightower has absolutely consumed my life and I am down sooooooo bad for him rn, so voilá, this fic has emerged as a result of that! 💕 as I also say in that linked post, I'm not super familiar with hotd, so I'm sorry if any of the terms I use aren't canon-accurate (I watched game of thrones a few years ago and I tried my best to make it feel authentic to the world of canon, but something may have slipped through 😅). and I hope this feels in-character to gwayne! I've rewatched the scenes of his that I have access to many times for...... uhh ~Research Purposes~ but I haven't seen all his scenes yet, so I apologize if it feels ooc at all – I did my best to make it feel like him! 🥰

oh and this is key: we've all seen the necklace, right?? we know about the necklace, right????? that fucking necklace makes me absolutely feral so I've given it a backstory, because it truly has me foaming at the fucking mouth 😌 (also, if you haven't seen the necklace, may I please direct you to this incredible gifset so we can descend into madness over it together?)

as always, I hope you enjoy!! 🥰🥰 (also please feel free to share any gwayne thoughts you have – I'd love to scream about the precious man with y'all! ☺️💕)

            The memory was not yours, but in this moment, it felt like it was. Gwayne had only told you the story once, with hushed words and averted eyes. You had asked, and he could never find it in himself to keep anything from you, even if it made his chest seize with shame. He told you that the whole ordeal had been a result of foolishness on his part, something he would admit only to you. He said that he recalled the memory with great embarrassment now. But you felt nothing but terror.

            You stood on a large, grassy plain ringed with trees, a few wispy clouds scuddling across the blue sky above you. This was a place you had never seen, never been – but one thing was familiar. As you struggled to gain your bearings in the strange location, you saw a group of men on horseback just a short distance ahead. You recognized your lord husband instantly: the delicate silver interlace of his steed’s armor and the auburn glow of his hair in the sunlight were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

            You called out to him, but he didn’t respond; he seemed to be in conversation with one of the other men. You ran toward the small group and cried his name again, but even at close range he appeared not to hear you. Panic grew in your chest by the moment as you hurried closer still, coming near enough that you could almost reach out and touch Gwayne’s mount. You stretched out your hand to do just that when your arm was stopped by some invisible force. There was nothing in front of you, just empty air that you should have been able to move through with no difficulty. But you were trapped mere feet from your beloved, unable to reach him.

            Something was terribly wrong. You screamed his name this time, desperation compressing your lungs with the force of your yell. But it was clear that he could not hear you, since neither he nor any of the gathered men so much as turned toward the sound of your cries. Real fear gripped you now, shooting ice through your veins as you cast about you for something – anything – that you could do. And that was when a new kind of fear crept over you, one so old and visceral you could feel it down to your very bones. Shudders wracked your body as you turned your eyes toward the sky, suddenly certain that you were being watched. But not just watched – no, you were being hunted.

            At a loss for what else you could do, you renewed your efforts to alert Gwayne to the danger that you could feel but not yet see. You screamed until your voice was hoarse, but you were forced to watch in horror as Gwayne continued his conversation as though nothing was wrong, even flashing that charming smile that you knew and loved so well. It was just then that the other man finally noticed that something was wrong. He cast his eyes toward the sky as you had mere moments before, saying something to the gathered men. A wave of fear seemed to run through the horses, as there was a flurry of shifting hooves and nervous snorts. You could only watch in terror as realization washed over Gwayne’s face, twisting his handsome features into a terrifying expression of horror.

            You screamed at him to run just as everything burst into motion, the horses tearing off across the plain toward the cover of the trees. You found yourself moving along with them, though you had no mount of your own. Instead, it was the same terrible invisible force, dragging you along, forcing you to watch as the scene unfolded before you.

            And then you saw it: the dragon. It swooped down from the sky as though it had erupted into existence from nothing, filling the empty air with huge grey wings that seemed to blot out the sun. You screamed again, but this time without the intention of forming any coherent words – the noise that escaped your throat was an expression of the fear that was buried deep in your bones upon the sight of the creature. Its lean body shot across the plain toward the fleeing men with a kind of focus and intention that proved what you had thought from the beginning: the dragon was hunting. And worse than that, it was hunting Gwayne.

            Voice rubbed raw from screaming, and realizing your cries to him did nothing anyway, you watched in terrible silence as his steed thundered across the ground, its legs eating up the distance as fast as it could. And yet the dragon gained. If this was some cruel trick played by the gods, you couldn’t think what you could possibly have done to deserve this kind of torment. You could do nothing but watch, utterly powerless, as Gwayne – your Gwayne – fled for his life, his beautiful face contorted into an expression of fear that cut you to the core like a knife to the stomach. You held your breath, fearing each moment would be the one when you were forced to watch your love be consumed by dragonfire, ending both his life and yours in one swift blow of unimaginable anguish and heartbreak from which you knew you would never recover. Just as you had resolved to try calling to him one last time – if nothing else, to assure him of your love – the treeline broke around you and the horses cantered to a stop beneath the cover of the forest.

            The world was still again, but the fear lingered. You could sense the dragon above you, even hear its thin, unearthly cries as it searched for its hidden quarry. Your eyes instantly found Gwayne, needing to make sure he had survived the ordeal. Indeed, he still sat upon his steed, and you watched his chest heave as he attempted to steady his breathing. The fear that still permeated the forest remained etched on his face as well, changing his features from those of the man you had courted and married to those of a young boy, trembling and horror-struck and so helpless and small.

            You longed with every fiber of your being to run up to him and pull him into your arms, to feel his warm breath on your neck as he folded into your embrace. You ached to hold his face in your hands and wipe away the single lingering tear he likely didn’t even know was still glistening on his cheek. You yearned to kiss the terror away from his brow and his nose and his lips, to tell him he was safe – to tell him that you were here. 

            But you were trapped just feet from him, all these longings locked into your body as you pressed toward him as far as the strange invisible barrier would allow. You watched as the fear slowly faded from his face, his features once again becoming warm and familiar. You couldn’t help but smile as he seemed to return to himself somewhat. Turning to one of his companions, he opened his mouth to say something when both of their eyes snapped up to the sky, reacting to some sound you must not have heard. You followed their gaze, and didn’t even have a chance to scream as a column of fire descended from above, ready to devour you all.

            You woke with a gasp. Your heart was pounding loudly enough that you could hear it in your ears, and you pushed yourself up into a sitting position as you struggled to calm your ragged breathing. The darkness in the room was soft, and your eyes adjusted slowly to your surroundings, only to find them all comforting and familiar – this was your room, your home. Instantly, you turned to your side, and let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Gwayne sleeping peacefully next to you. He was here, he was home, he was safe – you both were.

            When your breathing had calmed back to a normal rate, you eased yourself back down under the covers, burrowing into his arms as he sleepily adjusted his position to accommodate you.

            “Hmmm—is everything… alright?” he muttered, blinking his eyes open.

            “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, “I just had a nightmare.”

            He seemed to waken a little more at your words, propping himself up slightly on one arm as he reached the other hand out to stroke your cheek.

            “Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?” his voice was still thick with sleep, but you knew the questions were genuine.

            “It was about you,” you reached up to cup his hand that still rested on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And the dragon,” you added, your words barely above a whisper. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, you were certain he was reliving the memory himself, and instantly regretted your words.

            “But it was nothing,” you hurried to assure him, “I just—I just wish I had been there. Or that I could have helped or—” you were distinctly aware that your jumbled words made very little sense, even to you. “I just felt so helpless,” you ended with a sigh. Gwayne watched you with soft eyes, his fingers squeezing yours in reassurance.

            “You were there, though,” he responded, smiling gently, “and you did help.” You just stared at him incredulously, wondering if he was the one who was dreaming now. He read the question in your eyes with a small chuckle and disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself up to sit. 

            Pressing a hand to his chest, his fingers found the chain of the necklace that he always wore. The charm was a delicate circle of beaten metal hanging from a simple coppery chain. You had bought it in the market one day when the two of you were still courting. The rich auburn sheen of the metal had reminded you of Gwayne’s hair, and you were determined to have it. The seller assured you that the little ring symbolized unending love and devotion – a never-ending cycle, an unbroken vow. You were doubtful that had been the original intention of the maker, but rather a ploy on the seller’s part to drive up the price after he realized you intended it as a gift for your beloved. Had it been that obvious how love-struck you were? 

            Regardless of whether it was intended or not, you liked the idea of the simple circle as a token of promise and loyalty, as well as a celebration of one of Gwayne’s most striking features. You had given it to him wrapped in a carefully-embroidered handkerchief when he had gallantly asked for your favor before a tourney. You cherished the memory of him asking you to help him put it on, and the fleeting touch of his skin and flaming hair you were able to steal as you clasped it around his neck. He won the tourney, and insisted that his victory was due at least in part to the precious charm you had given him, imbued with your affection and devotion. To your knowledge, he had never taken it off since.

            Now, in the dim light of your shared chambers, he held the little ring out for you to see. It was slightly more battered now than it had been, and though its original shine was gone, it still seemed to glow with a warm coppery light. Reaching out, you took the small circle in your fingers, feeling all the tiny knicks and ridges it had acquired over time, each one of them proof of Gwayne’s promise to always return to you – an unbroken vow.

            “See, you’re always with me, right here,” he gestured to the charm in your fingers. The feeling of the metal against your skin and the sweet memories that swirled through your mind caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes, chasing away the lingering cobwebs of fear that the nightmare had spun. Gently, you released the ring and Gwayne’s fingers replaced yours on the circle, guiding it back to where it always sat on his chest, just above his heart. He pressed it there, emphasizing his words: “right here, right where you always have been – and always will be.”

            Ducking your head away, you tried to hide the tears that were now threatening to slide down your cheeks as his words. But before you could wipe them on the sheets, Gwayne’s hand caught your chin, gently pulling him back to you, the rough pad of his thumb banishing the tears from your face. His eyes sparkled with affection and mirth, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from echoing his smile.

            “Hmmm… it’s more serious than I thought,” he said with mock-concern, tilting your face as though he was examining it, “you appear to be desperately and madly in love with me – a very serious condition indeed.”

            You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of your mouth as you nudged him playfully, causing him to break into bright chuckles of his own. Your chest, which just moments ago had been compressed with terror, was now so full of love and happiness you were certain it might burst.

            “And tell me, Ser Gwayne, what is the cure for this most dire of conditions?” you matched his tone of feigned worry as your laughter subsided.

            “Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, unable to hide the dimples forming on his cheeks, proof of his barely-suppressed smile, “perhaps marriage? I have heard many esteemed lords claim that the institution of matrimony is bound to cure an ailment such as yours.”

            “Oh, but I fear I’ve tried that,” you exclaimed, “and it has only made my condition worse.”

            “Then this is indeed one of the most serious cases I’ve ever seen.” He pondered for a moment, then his eyes lit up: “There is one more cure, but it’s risky. You could try true love’s kiss. One does read about those sorts of things working miracles after all.”

            “What’s the risk?”

            “The risk is that the kiss renders your condition utterly uncurable by any other means.” Gwayne’s lips tilted up into your favorite lopsided smile as he grinned at you, dimples glowing like twin suns, sending the delicate freckles on his face colliding into each other like falling stars.

            “That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” you breathed as he reached out to cup your face and bring it close to his. You closed your eyes as your lips met in a burst of warm sunlight that seemed to fill your whole body with its radiance. You weren’t sure how long you remained pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat against your skin, his auburn locks twisted in your fingers, his necklace hanging between your entwined forms. 

            “Did it work?” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead still resting against yours.

            “No,” you responded happily, your fingers once again finding the thin metal of the little circular charm, “I fear I’m even more madly and desperately in love with you than before.” You met his eyes, finding them bright and soft and just as madly and desperately in love as you were certain yours were.

            “Well, I like to think of myself as chivalrous, but I don’t think I can find it in myself to regret your condition,” he whispered, a teasing smile on his face as he reached a hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

            “Nor can I,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

            He pulled you fully into his grasp then, maneuvering you both back under the covers without relinquishing his hold on you. You rested on his chest, head tucked under his chin as he wrapped both arms around you. Your fingers found his necklace, and you clasped it in your hand. He echoed your motion until both of your hands were intertwined around the metal circle, resting just above his heart. You could feel it beating against your skin, and you snuggled yourself even closer to him.

            “This is what I imagine,” Gwayne said softly to the darkness, “when I’m on the road without you, and all I have is this small charm to remind me of what it feels like to rest in your embrace. This is what I dream of.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and squeezed your hand where it entwined with his on the necklace. “You’re always right here.”

            “I’m always right here,” you echo, your words a promise, a vow.

            “But thank the gods I don’t have to imagine right now,” you felt his words as his lips moved against your forehead, “because I am right here.” Gwayne wrapped his arms even more tightly around you, and you gladly tucked yourself further into his warm embrace. You felt yourself drifting back into a pleasant sleep in the comfort and safety of his arms. You heard his words echo softly in the gentle quiet of the room:

            “I’m right here.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Captain II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You come home after being announced as captain

In true Magda fashion, everyone in her contact list gets a call. A quick 'did you hear my kid's Sweden Captain?' call where she ends it before the other person can reply.

You get a text and several missed calls that you just ignore until you're free to go to your mothers' house. It was a slip that had you forgetting to tell them that you were Sweden's new captain.

There wasn't much time between your discussion with Emma and walking out to the press conference.

The best you could have given them was a text in warning but, judging by the messages your Morsa sent and all the uncharacteristic emojis she sent with it, you assumed she was happy.

You also assumed that you wouldn't be yelled at for not giving them a heads up.

You pull up at their house and sigh.

Frido's car is also in the driveway and you roll your eyes.

You don't want to think about how many traffic laws she broke to get here before you.

You unlock the front door, unbothered with using the bell, and slip inside.

The low hum of the tv is apparent as you slide off your shoes and hang up your coat. Frido's definitely in the house because you have to put your shoes next to hers and her bag is sitting on the stairs.

You're not entirely sure why she keeps bringing a bag when all her clothes are in the spare room but you don't dwell on it long before making your way into the living room.

Momma is sitting on the sofa, watching the last five minutes of a random show before what she actually wants to watch comes on.

"Your Morsa and moster are in the garden," She tells you," Calling everyone they know to brag."

"Are you angry I didn't tell you? Are they?"

"I'm not angry and those two are much too smug to be angry as well."

You smile and sit next to Pernille, one of her arms being thrown over your shoulder comfortably.

"At least tell me you told Natalia at least. She's not got access to you while on camp like we do."

"I told Talia," You reply.

In fact, Talia was the first and only person you told before the press conference. She'd congratulated you with a laugh before teasing and saying to take it in while you could because she would be gunning for the Spanish captaincy next.

She'd get it eventually, you knew that. It was only a matter of time but, still, you were the only national captain in the relationship at the moment and you just knew she'd have something to say about it when you finally reunited.

"Good girl," Pernille says," I'd hate for her to suddenly appear at the house unexpectedly. You know what your Morsa gets like."

In sync, you both lean forward to peer out of the windows leading to the garden.

Magda's still on the phone, waving her hand around excitedly as her mouth moves quickly before she drops the call only to immediately make a new one.

Frido's also pacing around the garden doing the exact same thing and you can't help but roll your eyes at both of them.

Magda catches your eyes and instantly makes her way back inside.

"Look at you!" She cries, bursting into the room," My little captain! Look at you!"

You're pulled away from Pernille and crushed into a hug as Magda all but sobs into your hair.

"I remember the first time you wore the armband! So small! You couldn't even walk yet! It kept slipping off! Now look at you!"

"Morsa," You groan, trying to escape from her suffocating hug," Let go!"

"My baby!" She's definitely crying now. "Carrying Sweden to greatness!"

(One day, you do lead Sweden to greatness. One day, you make your mark as one of Sweden's captains. One day, you pass off the armband to a young player you saw greatness in like your captain did for you.)

"Come on," You complain," Let go!"

You're released, only to be forced right back into another hug, from your moster Frido now.

Her hugs is just as suffocating as Magda's. She rocks side to side with you as you struggle to get away.

She speaks to Magda over your head. "Do you think I can borrow your old armband? I can't just wear her shirt to matches anymore. Got to complete the look."

"Please don't," You beg but she ignores you.

"Er..." Magda says," I'm not sure actually. I'll have a look-"

"It's on the bedside table," Pernille cuts in," Magda insisted on wearing it last night when we-"

"Gross!" You complain," Please don't talk about your sex life. You know I wear the armband now. Please don't make me think about you guys having sex every time I wear it."

You peak your head over Frido's shoulder to look at your mothers.

Magda shrugs. "A healthy sex life-"

"Stop!" You clamp your hands over your ears. "Stop talking or I'll go straight back to camp. Stop talking!"

Magda waves a hand dismissively. "You'll find out what I mean as soon as you see Natalia again."

[bahablastplz]

CW: Smut, degradation a little bit, p in v sex, unprotected sex WC: 1000

Thinking abt boyfriend! Seungmin with this lip piercing...

Sitting next to your boyfriend on the couch, you couldn't help but be affected by his appearance. Your boyfriend is usually very modest in his appearance, so when he came home from his photoshoot today you weren't expecting his outfit. His sleeves rolled up showed off his arms, muscular and bulkier thanks to his recent time spent at the gym, and the smoky eye makeup applied by the stylists added to his sexy, edgy appearance. The centerpiece of the outfit though was the lip ring, silver double-hooped and accentuating his beautiful pink lips.

"You're staring," he points out.

"Huh?" "You invited me over to watch a movie together after the shoot, but you're staring at me, bubs. I'd almost think you like me or something," he jokes. Your face heats up. "I do like you. I love you, even. So let me stare," you say, moving closer. His hand snakes around your waist and you stare into his eyes, your gaze flitting between his eyes and his piercing.

"I wanna ride you," you confess suddenly. Seungmin blinks at you once, twice, before breaking out into a grin.

"What's gotten into you? You're feral," he laughs.

"Nothing! Can I not appreciate how good-looking my boyfriend is?" you ask, moving over to straddle his lap. You wrap your arms around him, unable to help yourself when your gaze flits down to the lip ring again.

"Is it the lip ring? Seriously? Is that what has you so riled up?" he teases, grabbing your waist and pushing you closer to him so you're flush against his bulge.

"I'm not riled up," you say, but it's breathy and his grin tells you he knows you're lying.

"Oh yeah? So I shouldn't do this?" He rolls his hips up into yours, pushing you into him to make sure you feel his bulge against your clothed core.

You whimper, face hot as you look away so as to not be exposed at how affected you really are. His fingers grab your chin instantly, pulling your face hard to make sure you're looking right at him.

"Don't look away," he coos. "Thought you wanted to appreciate how good-looking I am? No?" You nod your head enthusiastically. "Then look," he demands.

His hands pull your shirt up and over your head, leaving you completely exposed to him. His fingers tug and pull at your nipples just the way you like, as he's spent years getting to know your body and your reactions for moments like this, where he can get you to fall apart for him in mere seconds. You can't help but instinctually grind your hips against him, trying to get any stimulation that you can.

You do as you're told and don't look away from him. You watch your boyfriend's stoic expression, completely focused on your body with dark eyes.

"I bet you're so wet right now, aren't you bubs?" Teary-eyed from frustration, you can't do anything but nod your head. "Think you can cum just like this? I don't even have to touch you, do I baby?"

Your movements get faster, more frantic in response. You're sure he's right, you probably could cum just like this, but when his hands move to your hips to still you you whine.

"Poor thing," he coos. "Were you close?"

"Please, please, please please pleasepleaseplease Seung--"

He shushes you, fingers moving up to grip your hair right at your scalp and pulling just hard enough to silence you, a breathy gasp releasing from your lips.

"It's okay baby. Weren't you saying you wanted to ride me, hmm? Be good for me and cum on my cock instead, okay?"

You're standing now on trembling legs, moving frantic to help your boyfriend get his pants off of his body. He chuckles condescendingly at your actions.

You can't get back into his lap fast enough, and he lifts you up by your waist to line up his cock with your entrance. Just his tip pushes in and you can't help the tears that start escaping from your eyes. He waits until you take a deep breath, preparing yourself until he pushes you down on top of him, now completely full of him.

His hands come back and rest behind his head, as if to say, 'it's your turn.' So you lift your hips, still shaky and start riding him just as you said you would. You start off slow, just to get used to him, but as you start gaining momentum again your ride him in earnest, wet and messy and fast just the way you both like it. You can only hear your own breathing and the sound of your thighs slapping together, and it doesn't take long for your high to approach once again.

He looks at you, lips slightly parted and eyes glazed over, and you see it again, that shiny silver fucking lip ring, and despite yourself and your need to see his face your lips are crashing against his, desperate and hungry. The ring is cold against your own lips but you can't find it in yourself to care, tongue pushing into his mouth eagerly.

Your hips start to stutter as your orgasm crashes over you, and though your mouth never separates from his you're breathing heavy into him, open mouths against one another as a squeak falls from your throat.

He grabs the backs of your thighs, lifting you up so he can piston into you, fucking you through your orgasm. His head falls back as you pulse around him, and his hips snap into yours harder, harder, and you can tell he's close now too.

You clench around him purposefully, and that's enough for his orgasm to crash over him just as hard, his own hips stilling as he spills into you.

You hunch over, finally, the two of you catching your breath. When you look at him again, a sheen of sweat coating both of your features, his hand comes to brush away a stray piece of hair stuck to your forehead.

"Never take that piercing out. Never," you tell him. His lips press into yours once more.

"Never," he agrees.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: yeah so that's my reaction to the new pics... i'm not okay

masterlist

[bluewriteswoso]

Actions have consequences part 2

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Part 2 to actions have consequences

Warning: smut🔞

You were so in for it..

That was 2 weeks ago and oh boy did you pay for it, Alexia had you tied up and edged you for hours, using you to get herself off again and and and again, warning you that if you dared come again without permission then I'd be a lot worse.

She also had you bent over, spanking you until your ass cheeks resembled her national jersey, counting every one until she believed you had learnt your lesson.

On top of that she had punished you further by telling you that you wouldn't come for a week, you had protested but with another week added on and a look that dared you to keep protesting - your mouth was shut.

You thought she wouldn't last, the striker never being able to resist you but she held out and with the two weeks coming to an end you're desperate for her to make you come until you physically can't.

Your focus however is on the cup final against real sociedad, you were staring on the bench due to just returning from an injury.

—

The match ended with Barça winning 8-0, you were subbed on at half time and scored 3.

Now in the locker room the celebrations were in full force, bottles of alcohol handed out, your mind is back on Alexia and all the things you want her to do to you so you chose to nurse one beer, not planning to get too drunk and it seemed Alexia had the same idea.

Deciding now, when the showers will be quiet, you grab your things and head towards the showers.

You had been in barely a minutes, sighing in relief as you let the warm water immerse you, washing away the sweat and dirt of the game you just played.

You were startled when you felt a presence behind you, a shriek left your mouth but you calmed when you saw Alexia.

"Ale, what are you doing?" You questioned, confused by the appearance of her, Alexia preferring minimal PDA in front of the team so her joining you in the shower with all your teammates outside celebrating, only separated by a shower curtain, was pretty unexpected.

She placed a finger on your lip to silence you, turning you back around before pulling you into her, lips attaching to your neck as she sucked and nipped at the skin, subconsciously you tilted your head to give her more access to the skin on your neck, nails digging into her forearm when you sucked on a partially sensitive spot.

"Just missed your Bebita, need you so bad," she murmured.

Kissing up your neck, nipping at your ear lob, one of her hands left your hips to tilt your face so she could connect your lips. The kiss instantly became heated when her tongue passed your lips, filthily licking inside your mouth. Her finger digging into your hips, surely leaving marking as your own were holding the back of her thighs, trying to keep up with the pace she set with the kiss.

Her hands cup your tits, kneading the flesh. She began playing with your nipples, pinching and rolling the hardened buds between her fingers. You broke the kiss, her lips finding your collarbone, sucking marks into the skin.

You almost forget you’re not alone and your teammates can still hear, only separate by a thin shower curtain so when a loud moan escaped your lips you felt teeth sinking into where your neck met your collarbone followed by Alexia soothing the bite mark with her tongue.

“Can you be a good girl and be quiet or do I need to make you be quiet?”

Not answering right away, too focused on the lips on your neck and the hands on your chest, being denied an orgasm for 2 weeks means you were so turned on and probably could come with light stimulation. Alexia didn’t like when you didn’t answer her, her hand threading in your hair, pulling directly at the root so you’re now facing the ceiling.

“Don’t make me ask again Zorrita.”

“Yes ale, I’ll be your good girl.”

That seemed to satisfy her, lips returning to your neck as her hand remains tangled in your hair to control the movements of your head. Her fingers left your nipple and started edging lower and lower, tracing each ridge or mark along its way. Small whines and pleas leave your lips, begging her to hurry.

Her fingers dip between your folds momentarily, you hear Alexia groan at how wet you are. That seems to flip a switch it her, fingers tightening in your hair as her movements are now done with a purpose, you let out a keening when when her finger brushed your clit, hips matching the rhythm of her hand as your grinded against it, two fingers expertly circling the bundle of nerves.

Breathy moans leaving your mouth, not loud enough for anyone to hear unless they were really listening but with the noise you can hear from the changing room where your teammates are celebrating.

You were slowly and steadily getting closer to the edge, feeling that all to familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. You wanted it to come - you wanted to come, needing to feel Alexia’s thick fingers fucking you.

“Inside ale, please.”

“No.” She stated simply, you tilted your head as best as you could to face her, eyes boring into yours, cocky smirk plastered on her face.

You knew better than to argue with her, focusing on the pleasure. Eventually her fingers sink into you, able to use two fingers easily due to how wet you were, fingers pistoning in and out, the shower barely drowning out the sounds of her fucking your wet hole. You’re so close, walls clenching around Alexia’s finger as she has to wrap an arm around your torso to stop you falling over as your legs begin shaking.

“Ale, g-gonna come, please let me come.”

You didn’t know how much longer you could hold on for, trying desperately to warn her but right as you were about to topple over the edge you felt her pull away completely. You honestly felt like crying, you haven’t come is 2 weeks and right as you were about to let go it was ripped away from you.

Right before you could voice your frustrations she spun you around, pinning you to the wall and sunk to her knees. You were rendered speechless, you loved the sight of her on her knees, it was your favourite thing to look at.

She swung your leg over her shoulder, most of your weight now held up by her as she latched onto your clit, sucking the nub as your hips jerk, basically fucking her face. She finds a steady rhythm, alternating between toying with you clit and dipping her touch into your dripping entrance, lacing your finger in her hair, exposing the dark roots of her natural hair.

Her hand joins her mouth on your cunt, circling your entrance and gather up your arousal, you’re in a state of pure bliss when you feel her fingers near your second hole, she tests the waters - only putting the tip of her finger in, doing her best to distract you by sucking on your clit.

“Is this ok?” She stilled her movements, concern etched her features as she made sure she didn’t push you, you both had spoken about this in depth and had experimented a few times with anal but you loved it, just something about Alexia using all of your holes really turned you on.

Nodding in confirmation, she brought her mouth back to your clit, rocking the tip of her finger in and out of your asshole. Working it in and out until she’s got down to the first knuckle, stilling to let you adjust, doing her best to distract you.

She waited a minute, more than happy lazily eat you out, savouring your taste. Her finger in your asshole started moving again, you gasped at the sensation of being so incredibly full. Eventually she had worked the full finger in, pumping it in and out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt well and truly on cloud nine.

Her fingers fully left your ass then you felt her line up a second finger along side the first, your eyes stinging, the stretch was a lot - tethering on the line of pain and pleasure. After a while you felt nothing but pleasure, your forgot how good being stuffed to the brim was but you never wanted it to end, whining as it almost felt like too much.

Your back arched into her, your hips rocking to match her thrusts.

As if on cue, you became aware of your surroundings when you heard your name being called, it was Irene. You looked down to Alexia, she had not stopped her movements in your ass but she detached from your clit.

“Answer her,” she mouthed, your eyes bulged out of your head, you could barely get a word out with Alexia two knuckles deep in your ass but you knew there was no way out of this.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ok, you’ve been in there quite a while?”

“All good sorry, just got distracted.”

You heard her warning that the bus was leaving soon before she left.

Alexia stood up so she was level with you, replacing her mouth with her thigh, the angle you rocked against her thigh along with the way she fucked your ass meant you were not lasting much longer. What really set you over the edge was the way she whispered filthy words in your ear.

“Gonna come for me hmm? Bet you wish i was also fucking you with my cock, filling up your pretty pussy. Maybe we can do that when we get home, what do you say Bebita?”

You’re pretty sure you blacked out, hips stuttering against her thigh as you rode out your high, mouth falling open in a silent moan, nails digging into Alexia’s upper arms - most likely leaving marks, trying so desperately to ground yourself but the pleasure ripped through your body causing you to violently shake. Falling forward into Alexia, heavy breathing as you try to calm yourself down.

After a few moments of silence and Alexia making sure you had fully calmed down, she spoke “Going to pull out Bebè.”

You had no energy so you hummed, burying your face into her shoulder.

She was as gentle as she always is but that didn’t stop the uncomfortable feeling, when she had freed her second had she used it to hold you tighter, softly stroking your back, almost lulling you to sleep.

“Estas bien?” she questioned softly, you nodded, mumbling a quiet yes.

You both finished showing, Alexia washing your hair, softly massaging the product into your scalp causing you to almost fall asleep standing up, your orgasm zapping all of your energy.

Soft giggle fill your ears as Alexia pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Come on niña bonita, you can nap on the bus.”

You huffed but obliged, finishing your shower you entered an almost empty changing room to gather the rest of your belongings. Deciding against fully drying your hair, tying your damp hair into a ponytail and trailing behind your girlfriend onto the bus.

Sitting at the window with Alexia next to you, Mapi and Ingrid sitting across from you but you ignored them in favour of napping on your girlfriend.

Before you dozed off you heard Mapi’s teasing voice.

“Tiring shower?”

[0-n-1-x]

WBC!Carl Gallagher x Rich/Northside!reader

link to my masterlist <33

Your private school requires you to do community service, and you’re assigned to help out at a youth center in the Southside. It’s far from your usual environment, and you feel a bit out of place, but you’re determined to make the best of it. You could've gone to the pet center, like the other girls your age, but you desperately needed to get out of suburbia. Carl, who occasionally visits the center for free meals or to hang out, notices you the moment you walk in. You’re clearly not from around here, and he’s instantly curious about why someone like you would be spending time in his hood. At first, Carl’s interactions with you are laced with sarcasm and teasing. He pokes fun at your clean-cut appearance and the way you seem so out of your element, but there’s no real malice behind his words— mostly curiosity. I mean remember this is still Carl, just in the body of a wanna-be gangster

You actually responded to his quips just as quickly as he spoke them, but you also spoke with interest, most of it in your appearance

I'd believe that you aren't full a nepo baby, I like to headcanon that you'd be half or part southside, having spent time there young and maybe one of your parents married rich and such

But you do know how to make your words somewhat powerful, and that intrigues Carl, in a different way than trying to scam the other kids

You’re organizing supplies in the back room of the community center, stacking boxes of canned goods for the food drive. It’s your second day volunteering here, and you’re still getting used to the place. The door creaks open, and you glance up to see the same boy from yesterday leaning against the frame, watching you with an amused smirk. “You lost or something? This isn’t exactly the country club.” he says. Crossing his arms, he saunters into the room, eyes glinting with curiosity. Without missing a beat, you straighten up, brushing the dust off your hands before replying

“I could say the same thing. You don’t look like you’re here to volunteer.”

“Nah, just checking out the new blood. It’s not every day we get someone like you around here. You sure you can handle it? This place can get a little rough.”

“I’m tougher than I look. Besides, I’m not here to play it safe.”

“Is that right? Most people like you wouldn’t last a day down here. You must really be slumming it to end up in this part of town.”

“Real, huh? Well, you definitely found it. But be careful—get too close, and this place might suck you in.”

“Maybe I’m counting on it. I like a challenge, I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.”

He grins, finally extending a hand "Gallagher, Carl Gallagher" You reach for his hand, “Nice to meet you, Carl. Now, are you gonna help me with these boxes, or just stand there and look all pretty?”

After a few days of volunteering, (its mostly you guys talking) he invites you out with him on a 'tour'. You visit The Alibi, his corner, and he ends the trip by taking you to his house

The Gallagher house, if you could call it that, was way different than yours. Not just in size, but in functionality, you hear 3 different people screaming talking and a baby crying with loud video games noises in the background. Luckily, when Carl takes you to the basement which of course resembles what you identify as a 'mancave' there's no one there and its mostly silent

"So.. nice family uh- ya got there?" you joke, slightly uncomfortable in the bean bag he sits you on, the pleats of your plaid skirt ruffling up and you don't miss the way his eye flicker down and the way his cheeks blush peach "Um, y-yeah, it's not always like that but it usually is"

For Carl: it's weird that he's drawn to you, southside kids are literally raised to the 'eat the rich' mindset. Especially Gallaghers, but he couldn't help but want to spill everything he knows and even what he doesn't to you. So he does, he tells you about juvie, about the dysfunctionality of Gallaghers and their shit, fuck he even tells you about Monica

You guys talk for what comes across as hours. Part of him is scared that he opened up to quickly, but surprisingly you listen, without judgement. You even mention how you find some of his life similar to yours. The feelings of being ignored, or in your case paid to go away (which Carl finds not too bad).

As you speak, he moves from his beanbag chair to yours, inching and inching closer together you eventually are a breaths away from one another. You halt your speech, all your well thought out analogies fading away as you both look between the other's eyes and lips.

Carl speaks, "is it crazy.. that I find it really hot when you talk about being rich?" you pause, a sly smile reaching upon your face as you answer "no.. is it crazy that i find it really hot when you talk about being poor?"

More silence fills the room, then Carl brings his eyes straight down to your lips. "No" he whispers, as light as humanly possible

And that's when it happens. you lean in, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble image he usually projects. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. The kiss starting out rushed, messy, and all over the place. But it's not lustful, more childish if anything and you both have no idea what you're doing.

His hand hesitantly moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. You respond in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him even closer

When you finally pull back after what feels like forever, you’re both breathless, panting as your bodies gasp for air. Carl’s thumb gently returns and strokes your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. But all he finds is a soft smile and the lingering warmth of the kiss you just shared.

“Damn,” he mutters, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he leans back slightly, still keeping you close. “You’ve got me all messed up, you know that?" you respond

Then it hits you, that was your first kiss

and it was with Carl fucking Gallagher

[beargirlmj]

an idea for the next story about Kim Minjeong. I really like her in 'Drama' and I'd like a story where she's cold, like she's a troublemaker, you know? Everyone thinks she is mean to the reader, but Winter is very needy in private. It's just an idea, if you're going to write, you can write at your own time :)

Oh, my first request! I loved the idea, so here it is.

Behind the Ice.

genre : fluff.

warning(s) : none.

At school, Kim Minjeong was the kind of person no one dared to contradict. She walked the hallways as if she owned everything, with a closed-off expression and cutting words always at the ready. If you crossed her path, you’d likely receive a chilling glance or a sarcastic comment that would linger in your mind for hours. It was hard to believe that someone like her could have any trace of vulnerability. At least, that’s what everyone believed.

Except you.

When Minjeong passed by you at school, it was always the same scenario. An "accidental" shove, a provocative look, and, of course, a biting comment in front of others. “Don’t be a nuisance, Y/N. I don’t have patience for you.” The laughter around was inevitable, and everyone at school assumed you were her favorite target.

But when classes ended and you were alone, everything changed.

After a long day of provocations, you went to the study room where, once again, you were bound to encounter Minjeong. She was there, as always, already waiting for you. As soon as you walked in, the cold air seemed to vanish almost instantly.

“Finally,” she grumbled, but her voice lacked the sharpness from before. Without waiting for any response, Minjeong stood up from her chair and walked over to you with an expression that was almost... needy.

Before you could react, she wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight embrace. The chill from moments ago seemed to have completely evaporated. She buried her face in your neck, and you could feel the warmth of her breath on your skin.

“I missed you,” she murmured against your neck, her voice soft and full of need. You froze for a moment, still trying to process how the girl who had treated you so coldly moments before was now clinging to you as if you were her safe haven.

“Minjeong, you treated me badly all day,” you said, your voice almost confused but not really trying to pull away.

She simply sighed, holding the embrace a little tighter. “I do this because I need to maintain appearances,” she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against your neck. “But here... here I can be myself.” Without warning, she pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your neck, causing an instant shiver to run through your body.

“You’re so strange,” you tried to joke, but your voice trembled slightly with the closeness.

“Shhh,” she mumbled, trailing her lips up to your cheek and leaving a loving kiss there as well, followed by another. And another. It was as if she was trying to make up for all the distance she displayed at school with an overwhelming intensity when you were alone.

“You’re so mean in front of everyone, and then you act like this with me? How does that make sense?” you asked, half laughing at the situation.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice low, still with her face pressed against yours. “But... I need you, Y/N.” Her words were so sincere that for a moment you forgot all the provocations and cold looks you had endured throughout the day. Minjeong pulled you even closer, as if afraid of losing you, and murmured again: “I need you.”

Before you could think of any response, she tilted her head and placed another kiss, this time more lingering, on your neck, making your heart race. You knew Minjeong was needy, but the contrast between her cold demeanor and the desperate way she clung to you in private was something you were still learning to handle.

“Minjeong...” you began, but your voice was interrupted as she continued to place a series of soft kisses on your cheek, her arms still firmly around your waist.

“Don’t say anything,” she asked softly, now with her face buried in your shoulder. “Just stay here with me.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around her and returning the embrace. In the end, no matter how complicated and confusing Kim Minjeong’s dichotomy was, you knew that deep down, she just wanted to be loved – even if she didn’t know how to show it to the outside world.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

The drunk woman was relentless, invading Tommy's personal space as he tried to step back. He kept flashing his ring, but either she hadn't noticed or simply didn't care. Tommy glanced at his watch, grateful Evan hadn't arrived yet to see this mess.

"I'm just a poor girl all alone and new to the city," she slurred, pressing closer. "Can you help me get home safely? You can drive me, and then you can come up and I can thank you properly." She traced a finger down his arm. "I'm sure your wife wouldn't mind."

'Okay, she just doesn't care,' Tommy thought, taking a step back.

"I'm sure the bartender would be happy to call a cab for you," he said firmly.

"But you're so big and strong. I would feel so protected," she pouted, swaying slightly.

"I'm flattered, but I'm sure you'll be plenty safe," Tommy said, maintaining his distance. "And my husband won't like you all over me."

"Husband?" the woman spat, her flirtatious demeanor instantly shifting. "Seriously, you're gay?" Her slurred voice dripped with disdain.

It was at that exact moment that Evan appeared.

"Oh, he's very, very gay," Evan said, draping his arms over Tommy's shoulders and pulling him in for a steamy kiss.

"Hi, baby," Tommy said when they broke apart, his earlier tension melting away at his husband's presence.

"You can go now," Evan said dismissively to the woman.

"You're the husband?" she scoffed, looking Evan up and down with obvious judgment. "What a waste."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Evan asked, his voice sharpening. Tommy could feel him tensing up beside him.

"Not worth it, sweetheart," Tommy said softly, squeezing Evan's hand. He knew that tone in his husband's voice - the one that meant someone had struck a nerve.

"No, I want to know," Evan insisted, his jaw set. The playful possessiveness from moments ago had been replaced by something harder, more defensive. "What exactly is being wasted here?"

"Your lifestyle," she sneered, waving her hand dismissively. "Two big, strong, handsome men shacking up together."

"Shacking up?" Evan said, his voice dangerously quiet. The woman had crossed a line, and Tommy knew his husband well enough to recognize when he was about to snap.

"We're not shacking up," Evan continued, holding up his left hand where his wedding ring caught the bar lights. "We're married. Legally married. I walked down an aisle, said vows, signed papers, and promised to love this man for the rest of my life. And you know what? It was the best decision I ever made."

Tommy's heart swelled, watching his husband defend their marriage.

"So no, it's not a waste. What would be a waste is if I pretended to be something I'm not just to make people like you comfortable. Now if you'll excuse us, I'd like to have a drink with my husband."

"You people," the girl said, shaking her head in disgust.

Tommy felt Evan stiffen next to him, ready for another round, but this time Tommy stepped forward. He'd let Evan handle it his way, now it was his turn.

"Ah, 'you people,'" Tommy said, his voice calm but firm. "Let me tell you about 'us people.' My husband and I are first responders. We put our lives on the line every single day for others - including people who think like you do. I spent years hiding who I was because of that kind of hatred, afraid to be myself. But then I finally accepted who I really was, and that opened my heart to the possibility of love. And I found it - real, earth-shattering, life-changing love."

He pulled Evan closer, feeling his husband relax against him. "So the only waste here would be letting people like you make us ashamed of something so beautiful."

Tommy turned away from the woman, effectively dismissing her. "Come on, baby."

The woman slunk away into the crowd, her previous bravado gone.

"You ok, babe?" Evan asked, turning to Tommy with concern.

"Are you kidding?" Tommy said, pulling him closer by his belt loops. "That was extremely sexy watching you tell her off like that. Look how far my little baby bi has come."

"Couldn't have done it without you," Evan said softly.

"You know, I'm actually more hungry than thirsty," Tommy said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh, is that so?" Evan replied, a knowing smirk spreading across his face."Well, we should probably do something about that."

"Yeah, we probably better," Tommy said, pulling Evan in for a heated kiss.

When they broke apart, Evan was speechless. He shook his head. "But not here."

"Right, right, let's get out of here."

They stumbled out of the bar together, Tommy tugging Evan along by their joined hands. Their laughter mixed with the night air, any trace of anger long forgotten replaced by the joy of just being together.

[directdogman]

Hi, I hope you're having a decent day! I'm sorry if this is an invasive set of questions - feel free not to answer - but do you still actively like DSaF as your own creation, or is it more of a "it was fun while it lasted but i outgrew it and it's for the best to leave it behind" kind of project? Do you ever regret making the games? If you knew they would get so popular, is there anything you would have changed about them? Is there anywhere I could read more of your writing.

It fluctuates a bit. These last couple of years, I've really just been sorta nostalgic for it. I've seen a lot of people discuss those games being a source of comfort during bad times in their lives, people talking about how much the characters mean to them and it's hard not to smile when you see that.

It's a funny thing for close friends of yours to see people WITH fanmade DSaF merch out in the wild, or to watch a random youtube video and being hit with a DSaF reference outta nowhere. It happens from time to time, even today. On a few occasions, I've even had a person reference my work to me in real life and not realize who they were talking to, believe it or not. It's really fun to play dumb and get someone to explain your work to you like you don't know what it is.

I certainly didn't think any of that would happen when I first made the series, or even during development. I think the normal assumption would be to look at DSaF as it exists now and assume its release was a peak for it, but believe it or not, the official discord only had 30 people in it shortly before 3 dropped! The archive listing of the series (reposted to a single page after the series ended) is now sitting at over 1.1 MILLION downloads.

People kinda assume the true heyday of something is when it's new, when it's fresh and novel. For instance, some people look back at when FNaF itself was new and see that time as its peak because it had a lot of internet cultural relevance as big new indie thing on the block. But, raw numbers don't lie. The series has been continually growing since its conception and that growth has similarly bled over to its fan projects. This explains why DSaF, despite not having a new series release in almost 6 years, seems to be inexplicably growing.

Just recently, I saw someone post footage of a scene from DSaF 2 on Twitter, which got over 16k likes. People praised its writing and largely celebrated the scene. The ironic thing about that particular scene is that I remembered being unsure if it was good or not, so I showed it off in one of the FNaF community hubs. The response was broadly lukewarm to negative. Now, it's held up as one of the best scenes in those games. That's kind of the point I'm trying to make, my thoughts on the series have certainly changed with everyone's else with years of hindsight.

Heh. I'm not sure if I've talked about this in a long time, but y'know, the very first scene I implemented in-game was actually the very first Phone Guy scene in DSaF 1, more or less exactly how it appears in-game today. This was before I'd even written the bulk of the game. I was pretty unfamiliar with visual novels as a whole, pretty unsure if something like this would be palatable to a fandom that was really just used to sit 'n' survive stuff that were far more gameplay than text. I mean, there wasn't any FNaF fangames really LIKE DSaF before that point. Closest was FNaFb, a jokey turn based RPG made in the same engine.

The engine I made the game in is also not exactly fit for VNs out of the box either, and I wasn't 100% sure the idea would actually work. But, the very first time I added the image of the prize corner, Phone Guy, the audio of that iconic cheesy stock track and booted up a test screen, I had a little moment where I said "Oh. I think I'm onto something interesting here." I kinda remembering instantly realizing in that single moment how much potential the idea had. Over 8 years later, I still remember that moment like it was yesterday.

I think lately, that's the sort of stuff I think of when I see people coming to me and asking about the series. Yes, it's really rough around the edges, yes, there's jokes that've aged poorly. But, it is a source of comfort for people and entertains tens of thousands of people each month. And that's gotta count for something, right?