#because it’s already such an overwhelming job

[pasteldreams]

all i want - m.s.

pairing: bsf!matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt doesn't know how to deal with his feelings for his best friend

cw: (resolved) angst, crying, cursing, self-deprecating comments, texts, friends to lovers, kissing

a/n: happy holidays friends! this is my first written piece! don't expect too much, but i hope you enjoy lol

based on- driving by dwllrs (lyrics in bold)

word count: ~2k

all i want, all i need,

all i dream, i need you next to me.

what do i want? what do i need?

what do i dream? i need you next to me

 

"are you sure you don't want to go out with us? we're gonna be gone for a while, you don't just want to come for a bit?" nick asks, unsure about leaving his sulking brother alone even for just a few hours.

"yeah, i'll be fine, just leave already." matt rolls his eyes starting to lose his patience with his brothers, who looked down at him as he laid on the couch.

"are you going to text her? weren't you supposed to hang out with her tonight?" chris asks tentatively.

matt's eyes shift, looking straight ahead before going out of focus.

'why'd he have to bring her up?' matt thought, suddenly stuck in his own mind. 'he knows why I can't just text her, why I can't ask her to come over, why i-'

"look bro," chris says, interrupting matt's spiraling thoughts. "she's your best friend. don't push her away just because you have feelings for her."

"can you guys just shut the fuck up about it? I know how she feels about me. I heard her say we're just friends, so why can't you both just leave me the fuck alone?"

"woah, kid. take it down a notch, okay? we know you're upset, but, first of all, you haven't even told her how you feel, and, second of all, she's right. you are just friends because, news flash, you haven't talked to her about it or literally anything for that matter." nick harshly reminds him.

matt sits in frustrated silence as chris opens his mouth to speak. "kid, she's texted me like a hundred times asking if you're okay and what she did wrong. you're scared of losing her, but you're not doing a great job of keeping her, dude."

"whatever," matt responds, opening his phone pretending to scroll through Instagram in hopes they'd get the hint to leave him the fuck alone.

"the uber's outside, so this is your last chance to not spend your night alone in whatever shitty mood this is." nick offers, only receiving silence in response.

 

driving alone

thinking 'bout the times, wrongs were feeling right

'cause you were never mine, i know

i'm lost inside my mind

it happens all the time, when it happens, I wanna go

 

once his brothers left, matt sat as his feelings began to suffocate him. his chest tightened as your words echoed through his mind.

��am i dating matt? oh, no, we're just friends.'

he felt like running, like driving, like escaping to some other reality. a reality where you knew how he felt, where you felt the same, and, most importantly, a reality where you were his.

matt stood up, his surroundings feeling more like a dream than his own home, as his unsteady legs carried him to the door. he grabbed his keys and he made his way to his car. his mind was too overwhelmed by emotion to have a plan of where he would go once he started the engine.

 

sunsets always hold me, i only go driving when i'm lonely

i wanna go cry, my feelings always leave

i'm running towards a dream that i'll never reach

 

as the engine started, matt felt hot tears begin to roll down his cheeks. he pulled onto the street as he continued thinking of a world where you loved him back. a world that, realistically, could never exist. because you were smart and funny and caring and loveable. and he was just matt… your friend, just as you had clarified.

matt watched the sunset fade as the colors flew past his windows. after what felt like hours trapped inside the hellscape of his racing mind, he felt the car slow to a stop, his body functioning on autopilot. and there he was. parked outside of your apartment.

matt reminisced on all the times he took the same drive to see you. he remembered the nights he spent next to you on the couch, your eyes fixed on whatever film was playing as his eyes were glued to you. he remembered later on those same nights as he gently combed through your hair and traced your soft features while you slept through the movie you had initially been so eager to watch. he didn't mind you falling asleep. quite the opposite actually. he cherished those quiet moments with you, the moments where he could admire you in the way he wished he could while you were awake.

 

all i want, all i need,

all i dream, i need you next to me.

what do i want? what do i need?

what do i dream? i need you next to me

 

suddenly, he felt his hands reaching for his phone. 'what am i doing?' he thought, opening his messaging app. he clicked the name pinned to the top of his screen, your name, opening a thread of 32 unread texts asking what was wrong and pleading for him to respond. more tears threatened to spill as he read your most recent text.

'what the fuck am i doing?' he groans as he closes his phone and lays his head on the top of the steering wheel. 'god, i'm so stupid. i should've never texted her. i should just go ho-.' he sat up, suddenly interrupted by a familiar sound, your text tone.

 

matt felt his heart pounding as his eyes locked onto the screen, his mind racing.

'she's gonna ask what's wrong and what the fuck am i going to say? sorry, i ignored you because i'm in love with you? that's so fucking stupid, i'm so fucking stupid.'

he combs a shaky hand through his tangled hair before resting his forehead back against the steering wheel. the sound of soft taps to the passenger window causes him to jolt up. there you were.

matt's wide eyes take in your messy hair and red eyes. it takes another tap on the window for him to snap out of his trance long enough to unlock the door.

you slide into the passenger seat, the sound of the door closing slicing through the heavy silence. your body faces his while your eyes remain glued to your fidgeting hands. tears spill over matt's lashes as the guilt of how he treated you hits him. he can't stand the way your sad eyes avoid his matching ones. he buries his face in his hands, releasing the emotions that have built up inside him since he overheard your painful but truthful words.

"matt?" your voice cracks wanting to cure his sadness but not knowing what caused it.

"i- fuck." he chokes out through sobs.

"what's wrong? what happened?"

"i just- i fucked up, and i'm so sorry. i should've texted you. i'm so stupid" he says between deep, shaky breaths.

you gently brush through his hair waiting for him to calm down enough to hear you over his ragged breathing. once he's calm enough to face you, he lifts his face up, making eye contact with your soft eyes.

"hey," you give him a soft, yet sad smile

"i'm sorry," he whispers, tears threatening to spill again. "i shouldn't have ignored you."

"i know."

"i uh i missed y-"

"did I do something to hurt you?" you blurt out, unable to keep the question in any longer.

"no," he sighs looking down, "well, i don't know."

"you don't know?"

he could've lied at this point and said that it had nothing to do with you, that he was just stressed about work or his brothers, but he knew you wouldn't forget his hint that you were somehow related to his sadness.

"i-" he clears his throat bringing his eyes back to yours but struggling to maintain eye contact with your intense gaze. "i heard you say something about me to some girls."

"about you?" you questioned, wondering what you could've said to have hurt him so badly.

"yeah," he states simply, with no further explanation.

"when? what girls? what did i say? I would never say anything bad about you."

"no, it wasn't- i just-" he stutters as you stare at him with a mixture of confusion and frustration plastered across your face. "i heard you say we were friends."

you stare at him blankly as rage builds inside of you.

"are you kidding?" you spit

"no," he says quietly

"i've been crying for days wondering if you were okay, only to find out you did all of this because i told some people we were friends? are we not friends then?" your anger slowly turns to sadness. your voice shakes as you feel your heart sink. "because i-"

"no no no, we are friends! i just mean-" he sighs and pulling at his hair as he gathers his thoughts. "we are friends. but I don't want to be," he scans your face as your tears begin to fall rapidly.

'he doesn't want to be friends anymore? after years of movie nights and game nights with his brothers and late night drives, he just decides he doesn't want to be friends?' your mind struggles to grasp the concept of losing him.

"i don't want to be your friend anymore because i want to be more." your faces turns from heart break to confusion as he continues speaking.

"what i'm trying to say is…" he takes another deep shaky breath. "i want to be yours" he confesses. "your boyfriend, i mean. i want to be your boyfriend" he clarifies with a short awkward laugh. "but i know you don't feel the same, and, even if you did, i probably ruined any chance i had by pulling this shit." he references his avoidant behavior. as he looks up at you, he panics not being able to decipher your expression. "can you say something?"

"you really are stupid.”

"huh?" he says, taken back by your harsh words.

"you could've just fucking told me instead of treating me like shit.”

"i know… i know. i'm really sorry i just didn't know how and I didn't want to ruin anyt-"

"i would've told you i liked you back.”

suddenly matt's eyes shoot up to yours, searching your eyes for some indication on if you were telling the truth.

"you what?'

"matt, i've tried telling you so many times, our friends have told you, and i'm sure your brothers have mentioned it at some point. you just never made a move or reciprocated any of it, so i figured you didn't feel the same way about me.”

"no no no, god no. fuck. i can't even explain the way i feel about you." his eyes drift off as he rambles on nervously. "you make me feel safe and warm and happy, like so fucking happy, and i just-"

his eyes train back on yours, realizing how close you both were.

"i just want to kiss you," he breathes out softly.

"you want to kiss me?" you ask still unsure if this is all a dream. he nods.

"can i? can I kiss you?" it was your turn to nod anxiously as his face slowly moves towards yours until you feel his breath fan across your lips

"god, you're beautiful, is this really okay? you really want me to kiss you? it’s okay if y-" he rambles on.

"are you going to kiss me or not, matthew?" he smiles at your sassiness, cupping your face gently before closing the space between you.

as his lips meet yours, the unspoken words and pent-up frustrations disappear, leaving only the feeling of his soft lips and warm hands.

as you begin to pull away from the kiss, matt whispers, "no, wait. i need you next to me," pulling you back into him.

🏷️ taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem, @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan

reply/msg/inbox to be added to taglist!

play button divider by @enchanthings-a and leaf divider by @anitalenia

[twiishaa]

twisha’s merry christmas event! late night hot chocolate with suna rintarou *ੈ🎄✩‧₊

suna x fem!reader, post-timeskip, hurt/comfort! one day, when suna's walking home from his late-night practice, he sees your apartment light still on. when he gets there, he finds you a little overwhelmed from the hectic season. hot chocolate and late-night deep talks go hand in hand, or so suna says.

in typical december fashion, the days were getting colder, shorter and christmas was around the corner—so naturally, things were getting busier as well. suna’s final practice of the year ended a little ove 15 minutes ago; he was now walking home in the cold, wintery air. checking his phone, suna made a mental note of the time. god, he hadn’t seen you in ages.  your schedules hadn’t been lining up for the past few weeks, and so you’d only seen each other for the occasional, hastily planned lunch date that definitely didn’t pay justice to your relationship.

The route he took very conveniently passed your apartment. the middle blocker looked up at your apartment building. suddenly, your room’s window caught his attention; he peered up at it—why were the lights still on? it was well past midnight, usually you were asleep by then.

then it hit him. suna knew you very well. he knew that when you get slumped in work, you stay up to try and finish it. he knew that your job overwhelmed you sometimes, especially when it was nearing the end of the year.

he was the only one in the street, but the swift turn he took made him feel a little self-conscious. unconsciously, suna picked up his walking pace a little, fuelled by the thought of seeing you again, and also by his concern for you—he couldn’t stand seeing his girlfriend upset! and, if he had guessed wrong, well—at least he’d get to see your face after a gruelling practice.

—

the papers strewn all over your desk were testament to the amount of work you had left to do. the clock had already struck midnight, your eyes had grown tired hours ago. christmas was always busy for you, but for some reason this year felt the worst yet. on top of that, you were running low on sleep because of some party the people living on the floor below you decided to host. honestly, all you wanted to do was sleep. and see your boyfriend—you hadn’t seen him properly in months.

with a deep exhale, the substantial amount of work and pressure overwhelmed you—you felt a sting in your eyes, and a wetness down your cheek. for some reason, the clock’s monotonous ticking seemed to quicken, silently mocking your sorry state.

—

as if the gods had heard your cries, you heard a gentle knock on the door. it was suna. you were confused, but a wave of reassurance washed over you from just seeing him again. there were tears beginning to form in your eyes, but you held them back as best you could.

“hey rin, how come you’re here? did practice finish late?” you said, seeing as he was carrying his gym bag.

suna laughed a little. “yeah, it finished later today. just thought I’d say hi to my amazing, beautiful, girlfriend—is there anything wrong with that?”

now it was your turn to giggle. somehow, suna could always sense your mood, and make you laugh; it was one of the many things you loved about him.

once you two sat down, suna brought up what he originally came for.

“hey, you good? you’re usually not up this late unless you’re like, having an existential crisis or something,” he sounded light-hearted, but you could tell from his eyes that he was worried, that he really cared for you.

something clicked in you—his words resonated and the tears from earlier started to fall down your cheeks. suna placed a comforting hand on your back, gently moving it up and down.

his voice was breathy, almost like a whisper. “hey, hey, it’s alright; everything’s going to be alright,” you just curled up into his side.

“I don’t know, there’s just so much work, and not enough time,” your voice came out muffled by his jumper. “and I just feel like, seasonal depression, you know?” suna chuckled at your choice of words.

“I get it,” he said, ruffling your hair a little.

—

outside, the snow started falling. this year, there was supposed to be snow pretty much every day leading up to christmas—which gave suna an idea.

“hey, should we make some hot chocolate?”

you sat up, a little confused. “hot chocolate? now?”

suna nodded eagerly. “yeah, now—don’t you know hot chocolate and late-night deep talks go hand in hand?”

“uhhhh, no? nobody says that?”

“well, my hot chocolate skills are unmatched, and I need to flex. we’re making hot chocolate.” he started making his way to the kitchen. being left no choice, you followed him.

—

the hot chocolate did well to calm your nerves, and suna was right, his hot chocolate skills were ‘unmatched’.

you two snuggled up on the sofa, when suna took your hand and squeezed it a little

“if you.. you know, want to say anything more, you can,” he said, looking away. you could still tell from his averted gaze that his cheeks were pink. stretching over, you gave him a peck on the cheek.

“just you being here is enough, rin,” you beamed at him, causing suna to smile back, albeit blushing. “now, let’s watch home alone.” you turned to grab the remote.

“let’s.” suna replied. “but the second one, I’ve watched the first one too many times with the twins,”

you laughed.

suna always had some way of brightening your mood, and you were grateful for it. the ticking of the clock from earlier had grown so quiet, it was basically silence to you. all the christmas lights from outside flooded the room as a dim, ambient light. you turned to look at suna, focused on the movie.

what would you do without him? you wondered.

taglist @cherrysurf @catientie @d0milol

⋆⁺₊❅ and lastly, here's a link to the taglists! merry christmas~‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

[mammalsofaction]

Okay so,

A couple of weeks ago, I started getting back into my MARVEL phase, and since I had no intention of letting my Phineas and Ferb phase go in the meantime, it's cumulated into the desire of seeing a crossover. Before I remembered that a crossover existed, and it sucked. I DID end up rewatching it, and I fell asleep thinking about how wrongly it represented my favourite characters from BOTH fandoms. Natasha didn't feature, and they didnt even crack Tony out of his iron shell. They made Candace look like an idiot, and Isabella had such a small role as to be almost completely insulting.

I'm now 3/4ths of the way done, and the only reason it isn't is because I'm approaching the end of my semester, and I just got too. Overwhelmed. I really, really want to share what I have so far, because I had a TONNE of fun writing it while it was still going, and I'm already so so close to the finish line.

Context/Tags: Post Civil War, Prior to Ragnarok, featuring Irondad. Human Perry, selective mutism. OWCA is a bit more competent than usual in this fic, and while Fury doesn't completely LIKE Francis, there is an air of respect between the two of them.

This snippet mainly features the interaction between Perry, Francis, Carl, Fury, Natasha and Clint. Seeing (writing) these spies interact is at least half the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place.

Snippet under the cut, Enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Natasha liked Perry immensely, the moment she met him.

He stands at attention just a little behind a man she assumes to be his superior; a white haired monobrow-ed man in an olive green uniform. Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher cuts an intimidating figure, though apparently shorter in person than he seems from afar, just a little taller than Natasha herself. Much like Tony. His naturally teal hair is just as eye-catching as it had been in his profile photo, though it brings out his Australian complexion, and the brown of his eyes.

He’s dressed eclectically, in what she assumes is something of a uniform within the organisation. A brown Kevlar-and-silk waistcoat over a light teal dress shirt, pressed brown trousers and smart, steel-toed loafers, topped off with the ever-recognizable OWCA fedora.

His gaze is sharp, calculating, but not particularly unwelcome. Perry carries himself not with braggadocio, but the familiar confidence of a man who knows his own strengths, and what he brings to the table. A man who knows himself to be good at his job. Natasha should know; it is a look she sees frequently in her line of work, in the company she keeps.

Time will tell if Perry would remain among them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the esteemed Director Fury in the flesh." Said Francis Monogram, the superior in question, eager and a little bumbling. Natasha could see Perry rolling his eyes, even standing at attention, and Clint hides his chuckle with a well-timed cough.

“I wish I could say the same." Fury says, pointedly ignoring Monogram’s outstretched hand. "You understand this is no social call.”

Francis’ thick mustache quivers unhappily. It reminds Natasha of a fat, old caterpillar. “It never is. We’re glad to be of any service we can, of course. Agent Platypus will be glad to answer any question you have."

“Yes, Agent Platypus." Fury raises his eyebrow. Perry tilts his head when addressed. "Your reputation precedes you. We’ve been told you are OWCA’s finest.”

How someone could look so expressive and professional at the same time, Natasha can’t say. But that was Perry. I do my best, sir. He signs, simple and modest.

His ASL is sharp, quick and fluid, which confirms another point from his portfolio; selective mutism. Clint had been almost delighted to know. She respects that Perry does not pull any punches regarding how well they could understand him.

Nonetheless, a curly haired, freckled child (only a little older than Peter) standing with a clipboard by Francis’ side pipes up. “He said-,"

“We know ASL, kid, that’s not necessary." Clint intercepts gently. He shares a look with Natasha before addressing Monogram. “Sorry, should he be here? Or is he done?”

"Carl is head intern of the organisation.” Monogram answers dismissively, leading the way down from the rooftop where the helicarriers had dropped them off before going their merry way downtown. "I’m afraid he goes wherever I go. He will be responsible for addressing future reports of our meeting.”

Big job for an intern. He shares another look with Natasha, and they both turn to Perry, as if to seek his unspoken opinion on the matter.

Perry gives them a subtle nod.

Natasha chooses to leave it, and follows them down the stairwell.

“I trust you’ve been briefed of our recent little…incident in New York.” Fury starts, as they all make their way through the building. Presumably for Francis’ personal office.

“I’m led to believe it was an accident." Francis says, throwing an indecipherable look over his shoulder. “The Flynn-Fletcher brothers have great untapped potential, and while we’ve had cause to doubt their intentions in light of certain…developments, I am ensured it is not for evil.”

"You think it was an accident.” Fury echoed.

At this, Francis shrugs. "Weirder things have happened in Danville.”

Natasha makes note of the unmistakable coil of tension that grows in Perry’s form with every new mention of the Flynn-Fletcher brothers. Perry clears his throat, loudly.

Francis sighs, as if he had been reminded of an incredibly tedious thing. “Our sources tell us that the boys were only involved peripherally, in any case. The ray in question hadn’t been their fault, even if it had been intercepted and collected in their satellite. The real culprit is a criminal we have been pursuing for years; a Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and his latest Power-Drain-Inator.”

Clint shares another look with her, eyebrows raised. Now this was a new development. “Not the most creative name." He quips.

Francis scoffs. “I assure you, it’s more than made up for in the invention itself, as well as its effectiveness."

Natasha straightens. “So it was effective?"

“Your being here seems tangible enough proof that it was." Francis points out, and she almost hates that it’s a sensible observation. “Doofenshmirtz inventions have a 96% success rate. He is the third most dangerous villain in our database. Agent Platypus, as his nemesis, had neutralised the threat as quickly as he was able-although not quickly enough, as it seems, to fully prevent any harm.”

It is clear that the accusation of failure had been the one to hit a nerve, and Perry looks away, ashamed. Natasha almost felt tempted to reassure him; nothing more upsetting to an agent of their calibre to be accused of failure, after all. But it had a ring of truth-it was only luck that the beam had hit the Avengers after the fight had been done with, and not a second before. Tony, in particular, had been severely incapacitated.

“And where do we find this…. Doofenshmirtz?” Fury asks, as they arrive on the bullpen floor. It is not so busy, but the few OWCA agents lingering don't bother hiding their curious eyes as even when Perry sends a withering glare in their general direction. Carl ushers them all inside Monogram’s office, the largest personal space on one side of the floor.

Inside, the space is decorated with lush carpets and a grand mahogany table, like a high school Principal’s office. There are floor to ceiling windows with a view to the parking lot, as well as a clever viewpoint of the building’s entrances and exits. Not so glamorous, but Natasha could admit it was practical.

Perry closes the door behind them, and clears his throat once again. Carl jumps.

“Yes sir,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “Being a Friday, considering what we understand of his schedule, he should either be at his home address, or shopping for groceries, since Dr Doofenshmirtz gets custody of his daughter on the weekends due to an agreement with his ex-wife in the divorce. However, certain developments were brought to light that it may be…unwise to act so directly.”

Francis, who had been typing away on his computer when they had arrived, swivels the screen around to show them a purple and white themed webpage that is–on closer inspection, turns out to be an encrypted Tumblr account.

“You’re kidding." Clint says. "He blogged about it?”

“He has more professional blogs as well,” Carl says, procuring a tablet from his pocket (Not Starktech. Most networks prefer to use their own developed tech, and Natasha notes that OWCA is much the same) for Fury’s perusal. "It’s almost comically incompetent, but he also knows we stalk him, so we feel some two ways about it. I would like to bring attention to his most recent post, dated this morning.”

"Looks like he’s entertaining company.” Fury agrees, passing the tablet down to Natasha (with Clint looking over her shoulder.) “I assume you have…plans, for detainment?”

"What’s stopping us from apprehending them all at once?” Clint asks, fingers pointing to the background of the picture taken with all of their criminals in frame. "We have tangible proof of their collaboration, written confessions to their criminal intentions, we know where they are-,”

"Doofenshmirtz is a criminal no matter who he chooses to collaborate with." Francis points out. “And we have records of worse collaborations. These aren't confessions–only intentions, not yet acted out. These posts were made nearly an hour ago, where they’ve made plans to tour the Tri-State Area causing general mayhem. By all means, we don't know their plans, we don't know where they are or where they plan to be, especially considering Doofenshmirtz own historically unpredictable patterns and impulse decisions.”

"And apprehending them in public is out of the picture, I assume.” Natasha says drily. Predictably, all three OWCA operatives tense unhappily. "Too much collateral damage, as well as risk of exposure.”

"It’s not like you can do much, without solid criminal charges." Carl mutters. “Not if we detain them in the Tri-State Area. Doofenshmirtz’s little brother is the current mayor, and he’s stupidly well-regarded. His influence is wide-spread. Doofenshmirtz also has an exceedingly amicable relationship with his ex-wife, who owns a very influential legal firm. She even kept his name.”

"So we can’t pin them on jack shit, is what you’re saying.” Clint surmises. “Not until they do something drastic. Not so long they remain in the bounds of the city. And they will remain here. We know they want something from Doofenshmirtz, and they don't know how dangerous he is.”

“And how dangerous is that?" Fury asks.

Francis and Carl simultaneously glance to the side, where Perry had chosen to take position by the side of the door.

"Not much.” Carl says. "Usually.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow.

Perry coughs, to call attention to himself, and brings his hand up in a see-saw motion with a twitch of his left eye.

He’s unpredictable, Perry signs. We mean that. He’s ambitious, single minded, and persistent, with the genius engineering know-how to walk his talk. But he follows his own rules, and standards of conduct, which are almost admirable. He also has an almost debilitating case of ADHD, prosopagnosia, and PTSD. Trying to follow his sense of logic can be…. difficult.

“I can believe that." Fury defers. "What do you suggest, Agent?”

Perry glances towards Francis, as if to ask for permission. When Francis responds with a brisk nod, Perry wastes no time.

There is a protocol in place. We call it Walking the Dog.

[sirkendryan]

well since you asked so nicely...

(cw: alcohol, slight dubcon)

I press my body to the closed door like a barricade against it, overwhelmed with the reflex to shield my prince. he looks so vulnerable there on the bed, endless bare skin washed in amber candlelight, gazing over his shoulder at me with eyes bright creased by a grin. he's sprawled on his belly, knees bent and feet lazily kicking in the air, the draw and gather of his soft flesh offering peeks at his ass, arched up ever-so-slightly.

still buzzing under the possess of the wine from the feast, I think for a moment that I'm dreaming awake to see him there like that.

"took you long enough," he jests. "I've been waiting for you."

I look away and then look back, drawn by opposing manner and desire. my neck and cheeks are burning.

"oh, don't play so coy, knight. hardly a fresh sight to you."

I am suddenly very aware of my body in that most private of spaces, the heart of the prince's bedchamber. the room smells faintly of orange, cedar, and spice drifting in from the corridors like a wandering ghost. the air is chilled, but even entirely unclothed the prince doesn't seem bothered by it in the least.

he drops his legs to dangle his feet from the bed, peering keenly at me as he parts his knees just a touch. I could have guessed as much, but now there is no denying how wet he is, his cunt glistening and the hair there beaded with drips of slickness.

the rush of blood through my body leaves me dizzy. my tongue sits lame in my mouth.

"do you not think we deserve to celebrate amongst ourselves, something more intimate than the banquet?" he inquires, exaggerating an innocent tone.

he shifts again, rising up on his knees and pedestalling that perfect ass higher. I know now he must have been touching himself in my absence because I can smell him all over the bed even from paces away. as if reading my mind, he brings his right hand to his mouth and sucks his middle and ring fingers slowly, face still smushed to the bedspread as he angles his head to look back at me. he gives a light chuckle.

"say something, you dunce."

"I am... surprised," I manage to say. the only armour I have on is my chainmail, but the weight of it against my crotch is restriction enough to hurt. "sire, perhaps the festivities have gotten the better of you, I don't think..."

my words slip from my mouth when the prince slides a hand between his thighs and his fingers run against his swollen cock.

"you don't think what?"

"I... it's just... this is rather unbecoming," I protest, but I am already worrying at my gloves, distractedly tugging them off. "I would object none to closing the night with satisfying you, but I don't see how such a position—"

"you have done me good service the whole year through, gentle sir," insisted the prince, voice huskier. his fingertips trace his dripping hole. "it is the season of goodwill and giving. allow me to reward you for a job well done."

"your highness..."

"yes, sir knight?"

when his fingers dip inside of himself I flinch and my resolve slips.

I unclasp my cloak and let it fall to the floor. I move in a frenzy to kick out of my boots and shuck off my belt and breeches, brow drawn hard, watching my prince breathe a soft groan into the mattress. a moment later I am standing mid-stride and half-naked, still with my chainmail upon my torso veiling my released cock, hard and leaking against the chilled metal. I hesitate again a mere pace from the bed's border.

"my lord," I gasp out, "this isn't proper. to do this... to enter you like this would be..."

my hands hover at my sides. my palms ache for his hips. I want to dig my fingers into that giving flesh and hold him fast and fuck him like a devotee of pain worshipping their god in a brothel—but this is my prince I am lusting for so perversely.

"turn on your back, sire. let me please you with my mouth," I offer. my mouth waters as he draws his fingers from his well-slicked entrance.

"tonight is about your pleasure, knight. you can have me any way you want me. if that's truly what you desire, I will have no issue in obliging," coos the prince, smiling puckishly, "but something tells me that you'd like me to stay this way so you can ravish me just like this. am I wrong?"

he's eyeing my cock as it twitches, bouncing under my chainmail. the hunger on his face burns as bright as that in my guts, and the last of my resistance snaps.

I can't wait. I ruck up the bottom of the mail as I close in on him, grabbing at his ass and forcing his hips farther to the edge of the bed. he yelps but spreads himself diligently before me. I can feel his heat even before I position myself, priming with selfish strokes of my hard prick in my hand, grunting with my building anticipation.

"go on, my knight," huffs the prince, his hole twitching eagerly. "make me yours."

I want to draw it out, to savour him like this, to rub myself against his cunt until I can't stand it anymore, but impatience takes me. I slide bit by bit into him, pulling him in until flesh meets flesh and I am as deep as I can get.

he's moaning now, dreadfully loud, but I don't care about the risk of his voice carrying beyond the walls of his chambers. I am enveloped in pleasure and all I want is more. I try to grant mercy with a slow pace, but I need more of him, more of his slick cunt gripping me, and considerations of mercy are exceeding my reach.

I cannot help myself from slamming into him. my force knocks him back down his to belly and I follow, clambering atop my gasping prince, trapping him on the bed beneath me. he grabs at my arm when I plant a hand by his shoulder and the feel of his hands on my sleeve ground me a little. for a moment I slow.

"s-sire," I pant, my voice trembling. "you feel so good... you feel too good—"

"please, knight," he whimpers. from the pitiful sob in his voice I fear he may beg my halt. "please... don't stop, sir knight, please... ruin me."

like a struck pressure point, those words drive me back to relentless, wild rutting. the chainmail slaps between us and scrapes against the prince's back and ass, painting it a raw pink. I cover him with my body, dropping to my elbows and burying my face in the nape of his neck. I breathe in the scent of his hair and taste his skin with a stolen kiss as my ears fill with his beautiful cries.

"if I had known," I grunt, my voice tightening with each thrust, a harmony to the prince's choppy whines and sobs, "oh, your highness, if I had known what rapture it is to have you this way, to sink myself into you and keep you beneath me this way, by jesu, I would have taken you sooner." the words run together in a ramble as the tension in my gut tightens. "each time— each time you called upon me to kneel and please you, I would have laid you out and taken you like this, taken you and made you mine—my lord, my prince, oh god, mine, my own—!"

I do not ease my pace as I come inside my prince, lost to the pleasure. he is writhing beneath me and clawing at my arms, helpless and howling, chanting pleas of my name on strained breaths. for a moment I see stars and a ringing underlines the symphony of raw cries, striking flesh, and jingling mail.

I slow when the ringing fades. I can barely hold myself up but I do, lest I crush the prince entirely beneath me. gradually, my sense returns as my peak wanes.

"sire?" I huff. "are you... alright?"

a chuckle rumbles up against my ribcage between heavy breaths.

"don't tell me... you're bowing out now, knight... we have all night yet before christmas ends."

it's Christmas, don't forget to call your loyal knight to your chambers after the festivities to reward him for his good service all year long. get on your royal knees for him, get on all fours and let him take you from behind like a dog in heat, serve him. You've both been waiting all year for this. he will protest that it is beneath you, to allow him to debase you in this way, but he knows how badly you want it, how you yearn for any excuse to give yourself to him, and he'll forget any objections once he has you crying under him

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[la-galaxie-langblr]

girl help

[fleetsonourgecentral]

Plus the angst is delicious, and how can I say no to angst?<<

I got you Angst! Make the genesis wave happen nad the Fleetway dimension gets affected too, nothing changed but the freedom fighthers don't remember scourge and the only one Who remembers the past is him so Scourge has to Re-connected with them or Re-rizz Sonic.

Extra points if the New Fleetway timeline is better or worse (Maybe It could be the King Sonic dimension? 👀)

👀👀👀 ohoho interesting..... an incident that makes everyone forget him would fuck him up big time I think, because by this point Scourge is comfortable with everyone. He has friends, he has a boyfriend, for once in his life he's... happy. And to have it all taken from him in an instant.... oooo he would not take it well

Maybe at first he thinks it's a prank, because that's exactly the kind of prank Sonic would find funny, but as he interacts with everyone else, he isn't so sure; he doesn't believe Tails alone could put on such a good act for so long, so he starts to get suspicious, maybe panic a little, and that's when the change in behaviour really starts to hit home. Sure the rest of the freedom fighters might be more willing to give him a break, but Sonic has reverted right back to his "No Fucking Lookalikes" policy with no exceptions. Sonic absolutely would not trust this bad boy-wannabe skulking about in their base - meeting him out on the street is one thing, but the base is important, they can't afford to let just anyone wander in - and the distrust would cut Scourge deeper than expected. It was one thing to not be trusted by Sonic when he first arrived, because yeah, he was planning on stirring up trouble then so the suspicion was warranted, but he's over that now, and it's another thing entirely to be accused of being shady when he isn't even doing anything. Like, it's his home, and all of a sudden he's not welcome in his own home. It's going to hurt, and that means it's going to piss him off. It feels like rejection, like betrayal, and Scourge does not take rejection or betrayal well

What also strikes me is if he's in the fleetway zone, Scourge doesn't know about the genesis wave. He has absolutely no clue what has happened, no clue he was supposed to be wiped from existence. So he has no idea what the hell has gone wrong. His first instinct is to blame Robotnik, but Robotnik doesn't know who he is either, and no matter how hard he tries, Scourge can't prove he's lying about not knowing him

Ultimately I feel like his priority shifts to figuring out what happened and how he can reverse it. I imagine the freedom fighters have been moved enough by his insistence that they do know each other, maybe they've even bullied Sonic into giving him a chance, and they've agreed to help him figure out what the hell has happened. But even if they do, he still feels alone. He knows them, but they don't know him. They don't know about his favourite things, Sonic doesn't remember their favourite dates, he's checked Kintobor's records and searched for group photos that include him and everything is gone. Scourge the Hedgehog's entire existence has been wiped clean off the face of the planet, except for Scourge himself. Could you imagine what that would do to even a normal person, let alone someone like Scourge? One million issues he's been ignoring not even noticed yet would flare up, and he's desperately searching for a way to fix it. He wants his home back, and if he couldn't restore everyone's memories... well, it would take him time to heal enough to even begin trying to rebuilding his friendship with the freedom fighters and get Sonic to fall in love with him again. Especially when he still doesn't know how he did it the first time. He wants to run away about it, but how can he run away when he doesn't have anywhere else to go?

Getting Sonic to believe his story that he's been here for years and they've all just forgotten would be the biggest challenge, I think. The rest of the freedom fighters are more inclined to believe the story, but not him. In my head, he only changes his mind when, in the middle of a fight with Scourge - kicked off because Scourge, out of frustration at trying to prove he's telling the truth, brings up Johnny, and Sonic is immediately like "how fucking dare you use my dead friend against me to manipulate me" - Scourge blurts out something no one - not even his friends - knows about. Something Sonic has kept entirely to himself, that he only ever felt comfortable telling Scourge after they grew close

In the heat of the moment, of course, he rejects this train of thought and just argues with Scourge harder, because he's stubborn and hates admitting to being wrong. But after they've both stormed off - and maybe Sonic catches a glimpse of Scourge holding back frustrated tears - and he has a moment to himself, he sits and thinks about what Scourge said and slowly realises maybe, just maybe, Scourge is telling the truth after all

[starbuck]

second night of Murder Mystery DONE all went well i am FREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

[consumer-of-moss]

I miss my wife he’s so gorgeousb.,,,,

Anyway, here’s Venbot

Remember to click on the picture because Tumblr loves to eat the quality

[npdlangley]

I'm not supposed to be a person

[ruvviks]

thinking about yancey and his people pleaser attitude

[aberooski]

I'm seriously hanging on by a thread right now I might just go drop dead 😭

[jon-withnoh]

Maybe I will make a continuous post like I did with the songs stuck in my head at my old job, but for survival strategies at my new job.

[regular-lord-reckoner]

today's definitely one of those days where's it's like 'haha my mental health would benefit tremendously if i could move out!' but like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[spade-club]

Reminding myself that I did all of my goals I had for this year. Even if some of them turned out to be mistakes, I've come a long way in the past half a year especially, and even if I am currently struggling with the weight of it all right now, these achievements are nothing to ignore or take value away from.

[definitelynotwinter]

When is life supposed to get better again? When does it get easy? When will I wake up without everything worrying me...and when will I snap back into reality and feel light again. Without any fear, with the ability to know I'm secure and loved. To have my health no longer be failing me and to not care what others think.

Idk I'm just a miserable bitch and life will always be as horrible as it ever has been,

But God am I trying so hard for it to not be

I just wish I had a break so I can be...light. just for once.