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starvu · 3 days ago

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My Heart Won't Start Anymore || s. reid

where you were always, always there for spencer, but after what happened with maeve you couldn't handle it anymore, you felt betrayed

pairing: spencer reid x bau member!gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst/hurt

content warnings: mention of spencer's addiction, mention of his being shot in the knee, reader was once shot in the stomach, mentions of blood, fairly graphic description of maeve's death, maeve wasn't spencer's girlfriend, but they had feelings, that's for sure, bitter ending (inspired by "you're losing me" ts)

word count: 9,1k

a/n: i described the whole line from s2 to s8 here, i didn't even know i could write that much lol. and i haven't written that much yet, it was a bit of a weird concept and i couldn't put everything into words, but I wanted to write it so much (i suck at dialogue, sorry). i spent like nine hours today only in notes app and writing this, im kinda insane. i won't be posting any more work this year, so i hope your new year will be happy 😽

You would never have thought it would end like this. No, no... no. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

No.

You were always each other's support, comfort, comfort. When you joined the BAU, you were just a young girl, full of ambition and hope, joyful and smiling with sprinkles in your eyes, but also a lost girl. Lost in a new environment and new circumstances.

No need to mention that you were a people pleaser who only wanted to be noticed... right?

Of course, you were prepared for such a job, but damn, you didn't expect this. What they learned in training and at the academy was nothing compared to what you had been working on since day one. Theory was just a sliver of practice, yes, it was brutal, but in real work, the same theory seemed like a sugar-coated story with sprinkles. It didn't connect in any way.

But Spencer wanted to help you. He really, genuinely wanted to help you. He wasn't that much older, well, no, you were the same age, actually. He wasn't overly effusive or outgoing, but he wanted you to settle in, and you appreciated that. He was awkward, very awkward, more interested in facts than people, and not really good at social interactions, and your good attitude made him a little intimidated when he first saw you and you eagerly greeted him, introducing yourself.

He wasn't sure what you would find nice and was afraid of imposing, so he did little things like bring you fresh coffee from that not-so-great coffee machine, sometimes gave you little tips about team members, sometimes helped you when your casework was limited to sifting through tedious piles of files tied with string, the letters already shimmering before your eyes and blurring into black spots.

That's why when he went through his own hell, held captive by Tobias Hankel and drugged, you felt the need to help him. You couldn't explain it, but... no, you could actually explain it. You always wanted to help everyone and spread your smile. A smile that didn't fit the job, a smile that was the opposite of the brutality you saw in the job, and only that smile allowed you to keep your sanity.

Hey, do you know that you'll even lose your spark and the twinkle in your eyes?

You felt plain, simple, and human sympathy for him. His addiction problem was one of those ignored ones. You all swept it under the rug, almost like the whole team suddenly had blinkers on and lived in a conspiracy of silence, even if you didn't state it out loud. That just hadn't happened in the history of this team, even if you had noticed Spencer's daily highs. There was nothing wrong with the young genius's mind, after all. More or less.

You hadn't known him very long, but you knew it had little to do with his everyday behavior. Even if you only knew him for a few months before, he couldn't act like this and you noticed that everyone outside the team noticed his behavior as well, which Hotch could always justify because 'Dr. Reid isn't at his best right now'.

Funny how reputation and lack of complications from the people above were more important than Reid's well-being.

Funny how Reid's well-being has become more important to you than your own.

You acted somewhat on your own, you tried to help Spencer, even if he rejected help, he was elusive. He closed himself off, he practically dismissed his problem on his own. And maybe you were a little intrusive, yes, you were aware of it, but how else were you supposed to act in such a situation?

And surprisingly, you succeeded. He didn't look kindly on your actions, but he stopped dismissing you coldly. Your actions were happening behind the team's back, you didn't want to expose yourself as a newbie to something that wouldn't be approved of. If this whole situation is going on behind the backs of the people at the top, why couldn't you go behind the backs of the team?

You took care of him, at least as much as he allowed you. You didn't want to overdo it, but you tried. You didn't force him to do anything, but you still tried everything that could replace the dilaudid, you spent more time with him than was appropriate just to distract him from needing another dose. and when he stopped taking the drug, you were there to help him through the withdrawal symptoms, although withdrawal was the hardest. You were understanding and respected him despite everything, even if it was a difficult and overwhelming experience. You could say that it left a mark on you, however you wouldn't admit it. You just piled on the stress and nerves. It wasn't easy by any means, but you didn't have the heart to leave him.

You never had the heart to leave him.

Or at least that's what you thought.

Anyway, you were there for him.

He also felt a spark of sympathy for you when you cared so much for him, because you didn't let up or ignore the problem. He finally felt a little different, other than a drugged-up piece of trash. Someone really wanted to be with him, to suffer especially for him and at some point with him.

You knew that a spark of understanding was being born between you over the years. A spark of something warm, like friendship. Your friendship was close, there was something special and magical about it. He trusted you. He trusted you and opened up to you, he felt exposed to his emotions but he didn't feel bad about it. It wasn't often that he felt this way about anyone, you were important to him.

Sometimes Penelope joked that you were glued together, because wherever Spencer was, you were too, within a radius of a few meters and no further. If you think about it, the sweet, sweet technical analyst wasn't wrong at all, in fact, she was right. Likewise, Derek, who would laugh and sometimes tease you about your glued hips, you dismissed it as bullshit.

You were sitting in her darkened computer lab, your seat was a little lower, so you rested your head on the desk. The quiet hum of computers came from the computer lab. You didn't have much work, so you sat together and talked about things that helped you forget about the hardships and darkness of work for a while. You matched each other with your rather cheerful personalities. You were sipping from plastic cups through colorful straws some overly sweet tea that Penelope had brought earlier. You weren't even sure what kind of tea it was, some brewed herbs with a lavender aftertaste. In any case, it was tasty.

You laughed. "Pen no. There's no match here..."

She stared at you with clear disappointment and determination, she interrupted you suddenly. "Listen, it's in the stars. I beg you, can't you feel it?"

You shook your head slightly. "Penelope. I really love you and appreciate you, but this is a bunch of bullshit. What kind of match in the stars? Just because you, as a fetus, decided to be born on this day and not another, doesn't mean you have a fantastic love match with anyone." You took a sip of tea, but you were still staring at the blonde analyst.

"I'm not just talking about the stars here. It's the whole match, similar vibes, agreement and..." She continued to justify herself when Spencer suddenly entered the computer room with two warm coffees.

"Garcia, there's extra foam and vanilla syrup for you." He put the coffee on the desk. "Here." He looked at you. "They didn't have any almond milk, so I got lactose-free." He put down the second coffee and looked at you apologetically. "Is it okay?"

You just nodded slightly with a warm smile. "Yes, thank you."

Garcia watched your interaction, then took a sip of coffee, she finished her tea earlier. "It's still warm!" She interrupted enthusiastically, and Spencer nodded with her lips pressed into a line, a sign of confirmation.

After a moment he was gone from the computer room, leaving he made his awkward gesture waving at you with his hand, or rather sticking it out motionlessly, and you followed him with your eyes to the door.

On Penelope's face there was an incomprehensible, slightly too wide smile, she looked at you with excitement. "Oh God, it's look of love! Real look of love!"

You sighed. "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." She continued to chatter happily, not straying from this topic even for a moment.

Penelope believed in the emotional tension between you, personality matching, and other such endearing things that you didn't quite believe in. You hated breaking the worldview of your favorite glitter and pink analyst.

When Spencer was shot in the knee and temporarily annihilated, you also tried to help him, although you were more likely to scold him then. What kind of brainless person wanted to ignore all doctor's orders just to fly with the rest of the team to the crime scenes. Second opinion? More like mindless, idiotic and stupid chatter. You wanted to hit him in the back of the head every time he tried to figure out how to avoid being grounded any longer, and even his doctorate couldn’t convince you to implement gentler measures. You didn't have the strength to fight him and you wanted to shoot him in the knee again, but it was out of concern, as strange as it might sound.

But despite his thoughtlessness, you were there for him then too.

You could say that you spent a lot of time together, often aimlessly, you could sit up all night and talk nonsense and in the end Spencer would let you drink coffee from his mug, and after difficult cases he was the one who tried to comfort you, your radiance and optimism could not be eternal and unwavering, and you baked his favorite cookies with brown sugar and sea salt. It was as if his worries suddenly disappeared, he spoke freely about whatever interested him without being suddenly silenced or dismissed, and strangest of all, even his aversion to germs was then a secondary matter.

You didn't see anything special about it, unlike anyone else around you. Yeah, you were a bit blinded by each other and sometimes the rest of the team felt like they were just getting in the way when they were around you. They felt like they were intruding on your little moments, your exchanges of glances and incomprehensible gestures.

They all felt that something happening, except you two.

And did it bother anyone? It was fine as it was.

Four years just flew by and you changed, not for the worse, change doesn't have to be bad... or something. You couldn't have peace. Day by day you felt more and more strange, not like usual, definitely not like usual, something was wrong, why were you suddenly stressed by his presence, and why did your nerves almost always get the better of you? You didn't show it, but this feeling started to annoy you. And you were a bit excluded, because there was one thought you didn't even consider, it didn't get into your tangle of thoughts, it just didn't. Or maybe it got into the center of your thoughts, and you cleverly avoided it with full awareness? Either way, when one day at work you were staring at him with your chin resting on your hand, probably looking at him from every possible and potential angle, a sudden realization finally hit you.

Oh.

oh.

It was a little different from friendship. Okay, maybe it was very different from friendship. You missed him faster than you thought, you almost felt anxious when he wasn't around and and you felt those nerves when he appeared next to you and you wanted his unwavering attention and you tried to justify it in every way, as friendship, friendly concern, natural nervous reaction towards loved ones, friendly... blah, blah, blah.

You felt attached to Spencer Reid and infatuated with him. To the same Specter who supported you from the beginning, he remembered what your favorite coffee was, he remembered the little details that made you you, showed you care in the same way you showed him care, he wasn't tired of you usually being full of energy and a little too emotional and were your precious friends. You couldn't say you expected it, but you couldn't say you didn't either.

You were in trouble.

Technically, you didn't have to tell him, but on the other hand you had a hard time keeping your mouth shut. You had to work up the courage to tell him. For God's sake, for half a year you'd felt like throwing up just thinking about that conversation. This could be good, or you could have ruined everything. You couldn't be sure he felt the same way, maybe he was just nice (and the fact that your stomach was tingling and your throat was dry and you just wanted to grab his stupid face and kiss it until you couldn't breathe was a side effect). Too nice. Being nice was never a bad thing, but it made you unable to fully read his intentions.

With shame in your mind, you admitted to yourself that you were observing him much more closely than usual, to investigate his behavior, no matter how stupid it seemed. This case really made an idiot out of you.

One night you were staring at the ceiling in your not too big bedroom and exchanging meaningless conversations, as he carefully ran his long fingers through your hair and occasionally glanced at you. There was a lamp on the nightstand, which gave off a rather shady, flickering light. You should have replaced that bulb. The rest of the light coming into the bedroom was the moonlight, carefully trying to get in through the window, thanks to the open curtains and blinds. The bright moonlight was more shy, though.

You finally, with heavy heart decided to talk to him about it.

This wasn't a good idea, trust me.

You tried to play it cool, even as you swallowed hard and your shaking hands were hidden only by the dim light of your bedroom.

"Umm... Spence." The usual certainty suddenly disappeared from your voice. “You know, there’s this thing.”

He immediately turned his head towards you, now in addition to his unwavering attention you had his gaze as well. "Did something serious happen?" He wasn't the best at talking about emotions, but, as befits a profiler, he read them well.

"Not really. I mean, yes, but no." You swallowed hard. "Depends."

He didn't want to rush you, force you to talk or annoy you. "Okay, no rush." Despite that, he felt a growing curiosity and a bit of stress. You rarely took that tone.

Suddenly you felt his hand no longer in your hair. Instead, he squeezed your hand gently in his, assuring you that everything was okay. The gesture, combined with your nerves, made you feel like you might as well cry. It was a gesture that you had considered nice and didn’t object to, but now it was confusing you even more.

It was now or never.

“I think I love you. No, it's not 'I think', I’m convince. Yeah, I'm convince."

Pretty nice, but you won't be the only one saying it.

He didn’t answer right away, only because he always had the feeling he’d ruin everything the moment he started talking about feelings. But he squeezed your hand tighter and didn’t take his eyes off you, his hazel, puppy eyes fixed on you. His voice lacked confidence, he hesitated for a moment, he asked quietly. "Can I?" You nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

After a moment, you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, tender and sweet. You had waited so long for this, and his absolute gentleness and feelings melted your heart without the slightest problem. You felt like you were the only people in the world, especially since everything around you was quiet and calm that night, practically intimate without the actual intimacy. Life just happened and you were somewhere in between, not in a rush. You always had to be rushing somewhere after all.

The conclusion from his actions was one. He felt the same way. You thanked all the gods and heavens for that. You didn't even want to think about the disaster that would happen if he didn't reciprocate your feelings and you had to keep working together, not to mention the tragic ending of your friendship. But at that moment, besides your still shaking hands, something else was hiding in the darkness - a smile on your face.

Maybe everything wasn't supposed to be so bad.

Oh sweet child, what a stupid impression.

It wasn't until you became a couple that you realized how little had changed in your relationship. You weren't sure if it was just too romantic before or too platonic now, but it was pretty much the same thing, with the added bonus of showing affection. Your relationship was built on all these little things and there was never a moment when your heart stopped feeling warm. You were really, really happy with the way things were.

For a short moment you regained some of the sparkle in your eyes, take advantage of it.

If Derek had talked about having your hips glued together before, it was hard to say what it could be called now. It wasn't that you were blabbing about your relationship left and right, in fact the fact that your relationship had even happened had stayed between you for a few weeks. You spent a few evenings off from work wondering what to do with the new label of this relationship. Telling Hotch was one option, and keeping it a secret and hiding it in every way possible was another. Both had their pros and cons, because in theory, a relationship between agents wasn't necessarily indicated, so it was more reasonable to admit it than to have him find out later on his own. Hiding it was also reasonable, considering the nature of your work, the dangerous nature, the possibility that someone might use it someday. Well, you didn't come up with a solution right away.

The fact that Spencer would bring you coffee every morning, or the exchange of small smiles, and the fact that you would sit on the edge of his desk while you talked wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It had happened even before there was anything like a relationship between you.

After a few weeks, you decided and went to Hotch to sort it out and not expose yourselves to any unpleasantness related to your new relationship - a relationship between two agents. Potential risk? Hard to say. But maybe it was better to explain it to him honestly, like adults. After all, it was inadvisable, but not forbidden either.

Spencer squeezed your hand in comfort and leaned towards you. "It'll be okay." The warmth of his hand helped a little and brought you back to earth.

"I take you for granted. And you better be right." You turned to face him for a moment. That sounded like one of your joking threats to Spencer. It wasn't the least bit funny to you at the time.

You entered Hotch's office first, with Spencer right behind you. He was on the phone, but quickly put it away. You took a breath. When his gaze landed on you, you still wanted to turn around, run away, hide and hide. But it was too late. You turned your head slightly towards Spencer. And then you wandered with your gaze wherever you could.

To your surprise, the conversation with Hotch was so... ordinary. You felt quite surprised by this turn of events. None of your theories had panned out. Besides, they had no chance of panning out, it was impossible. You loved to imagine a million versions of a single event in your head, and mostly the worst versions. It clashed with your optimism.

Or maybe that optimism was fading anyway.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye through the window of Hotch's office that Derek, with an expression of obvious defeat written on his face, was giving Penelope a twenty dollar bill as soon as they noticed you two. Penelope had just won a bet of sorts and you felt disbelief, but at the same time a smile was also trying to creep up on your lips. You squeezed Spencer's hand imperceptibly tighter. For a moment you were distracted and focused on Morgan and Garcia. You didn't bring it up, it was just a little stupidity between them, one of many

Your relationship wasn't a big obstacle as long as it didn't affect the team's work, your cooperation in the field, or involve showing romantic feelings at work. 'And no intimate contact!' He even emphasized that a few times, but in an even more professional way. Not that you had any plans and you were an adult, so you shouldn't have been nervous, yet your cheeks and nose suddenly became more rosy. It ended with a few signatures and sending you out of the office with nothing. Overall he said that as long as you are happy, it's good. He went back to talking on the phone and reporting, which were more important to him at the time than such problems with agents.

You and Spencer were there for each other.

Everything seemed pretty fine until the headache and sleep problems came. And after it another headache and another headache. Sleep problems were nothing new, they happened every once in a while, but then they became more frequent. You thought it was temporary, caused by stress and fatigue, maybe not drinking enough water and being slightly dehydrated, but it only got worse. Often and routinely. The medication didn't help much, and the tests, head and brain scans showed nothing.

Spencer was almost going crazy thinking that this was early schizophrenia, some stage of the disease and he would end up like his own mother, which was his biggest nightmare. The knowledge that in a dozen or so years he might not remember anything, only have flashes of what he knew, become useless. He wanted to use his full potential. He was supposed to be a genius, to come up with something that would help slow down the progression of his mother's disease, not a useless piece of crap whose life would slip through his fingers because of the cavities in his head.

It had nothing to do with schizophrenia at the end of the day, but it was problematic enough. They were migraines, strong and painful migraines. They didn't seem dangerous in a long run, were not comparable in terms of potential danger to anything related to the disorder he suspected, however they were difficult for Spencer and he was clearly suffering, the sight that broke your heart.

You didn't want to see him like this, you wanted to do everything to make him feel better. You weren't an expert in medicine, but you used the comforting methods you knew to make him feel at least a little better, a little more mundane than the medical ones. You stayed at his apartment a lot more often, slept there a lot more often, to be completely sure about his pain, to help him through sleepless nights, to provide him with some peace. At one point, you practically lived there. Despite your sincere efforts, compresses, warm teas, kisses on the head and careful massaging of his temples, it wasn't enough, maybe it just helped slightly. You really tried and he knew it too, sometimes he even thought and mentioned, that he didn't deserve you.

You wanted to find someone who knew about these kinds of conditions. You knew that Spencer had more contacts and connections because he was in the scientific community, so he could do more, he could take care of himself, but you wanted to do something too. You spent your nights just to find a doctor, a scientist, anyone. This situation wasn't good for you either. Almost every time you worried about Spencer, it took its toll on you. The nerves and helplessness became overwhelming. You yourself experienced headaches, but you just clenched your teeth. It was from exhaustion and you wouldn't admit it. Spencer thought you didn't have to do it, to sacrifice and worry so much, he always reminded you of that.

You were there for him, nothing new.

Wait, sweetheart.

You know you weren't the only one anymore? Really, no one told you?

You were about to give up, thinking that there was no point in searching any longer. More frustration than concern flowed through you. Mostly frustration with yourself. But you found it. You had it. You found a geneticist who could help. You felt enlightened and filled with hope. You hadn't felt this kind of hope in a long time.

There she was.

Dr. Maeve Donovan

You felt convinced, you had a feeling she would be the solution to Spencer's problems. He had no doubts when you suggested that Maeve look at the scans. You sent them by email, but you didn't go into why that was the right way for her. It wasn't your business after all. She had reviewed Spencer's MRI scans of brain, partly to help, partly out of pure scientific interest, he was a brilliant mind after all. Unlike other doctors, she saw the solution in these headaches and sleeping problems. After a few weeks of analysis, she wrote everything down, including recommendations and a prescription for some medications that you knew a little about because of how immersed you were in the whole topic of migraines, insomnia, and even paranoid schizophrenia, despite everything, Spencer knew more about these meds.

Months passed. I guess. You were losing count. Something was wrong and you knew it. Not with Spencer, he was slowly getting better and was in less and less pain, he didn't wake up at night as often and he wasn't in more pain during the day. You were relieved to see your beloved getting better, the meds were working, and he was regaining his nerdy drive and commitment to everything. It was a precious sight you had been waiting for.

So you should have been happy, it was wiser not to dig anything up. You didn't have a habit of behaving like that. Since Soencer was acting strange at least, you had to find out what was going on and why he wasn't telling you. He always trusted you, he told you everything, and if he didn't say something, he still mentioned the situation. Now he was avoiding anything that could be related to his behavior. He was nervous, as if stressed, sometimes he would suddenly disappear at Sundays and come back after a few minutes without a word. Later he was a bit concerned, but he tried to get back to reality. And later he would even sneak out during work, when you were with the team in the field. Sometimes you'd see notes and a pen left around his apartment, like he was writing letters. You never tried to read them, but you felt a pang in your heart.

Your intuition wasn't some great mechanism, but it wasn't stupid either. You saw him get even more worked up one afternoon. That was when Maeve told him she loved him. But you were so blissfully unaware that you were in that position. Spencer wasn't a cheater, that much was for sure. He froze for a moment after hearing those words, but he didn't answer her. He thought about what to do with this new awareness, he thought a lot.

When, during one of the cases, after Spencer had a quick conversation with Blake, she gave him a ride somewhere, you felt like something was happening completely behind your back. At least Alex already knew what was going on after she confronted him near the telephone booth. And so she promised him she wouldn't tell anyone, so you remained in unconsciousness. Unconsciousness that was no longer blissful.

And then you saw a book wrapped carefully in ribbon in Spencer's apartment, even if Spencer wasn't particularly artistic. You didn't look in there. You didn't know if it would calm down or if you'd find out something you didn't want to know. He didn't even noticed you'd noticed the book, he was behaving the same way as last time. A little nervous, but pretending to be normal. You were also a profiler, he couldn't hide it from you, even if you didn't make a habit of profiling your loved ones, it didn't agree with your morals. Well, you made plenty of exceptions for Spencer, so why should this be any different?

You loved this living room 'cause of the light. As you stood by the bookshelf, staring at the spines of old, yellowed books whose arrangement you already knew by heart, Spencer came up behind you, a slightly sheepish smile on his face. You knew that look on his face. You often cut his hair because he wasn't very comfortable with having a barber do it. He didn't like the feeling of a stranger messing with his hair, it wasn't pleasant in any way, even if most of society disagreed.

“Umm… I’m starting to think I look weird.” He began uncertainly, referring to his hair. “It’s a little too long, I think.”

You stared at him for a moment, your gaze darting between his face and his hair, you smiled. You had thought about proposing a haircut to him a few days ago, but in the end you didn't. The request seemed rather sudden. Finally, you reached out and touched his hair, and he leaned slightly into your touch. He found it a pleasant experience.

"I don't know, I like it. It's not too long yet." You admitted as you focused on his hair and kept running your fingers through it, trying to style it.

"You think so?"

You didn't know why he was so determined about it, or why he cared so much at that time. As if there were already too many strange things happening that you couldn't explain, another one was just happening.

"Yeah, it's fine. Trust me, Spence."

��Okay.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. This kiss was warm and sincere, as always, but it had a slightly different tone than what he usually gave, more... apologizing? What the hell did he have to apologize for?

You didn't bring up the subject of hair again. You didn't know, but Alex had told him that his hair was fine the way it was and it wouldn't affect what Maeve thought. It would be funny if you were the one who cut his hair to meet her. And your eyes kept returning to the white cover and the ribbon - The narrative of John Smith

You thought you were stupid, that you were really just making up a story to yourself because you were too bored, that it was just your stupid overthinking and nothing was happening, you were drawing too many conclusions and adding a story to everything. You thought you were crazy, that something was wrong with you. You should have been happy that Spencer was no longer suffering and in pain, not making up events that you had no idea about.

What if you were right?

While at work one day that seemed as normal as any other, except for the constant doubts in the back of your mind, you saw Spencer briskly walk to Hotch's office without a word. He was there longer than you expected, which certainly didn't comfort you. And then you were all in the bullpen, around Spencer, whose voice was breaking.

"... He thinks he'll get away with this and he might." He stared at the floor and didn't look up. "I have a wealth of knowledge I should be applying to this case. Behavioral patterns of violent stalkers, tactical recovery strategies, victim survival odds. But right now I can't focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time, which makes me the dumbest person in the room." All eyes were fixed on him, it was an unexpected situation. "So... please help me. Help me find her."

Sometimes you felt small glances at you. You clenched your hand on the edge of the desk. You weren't even mad. You felt your stomach drop. Maeve, same Maeve. How could all this be happening so close to you and you were so stupid? You didn't say anything, just like everyone else. The difference was that the others were taken aback, surprised, but you were just numb.

After a moment, Hotch spoke up, even his tone of voice was a little different than usual. "We don't know if we have a case. So we'll be working on personal time. Does anybody want to leave?"

Silence.

You swallowed hard, but did nothing. You didn't leave, you stood there, leaning against the desk. It seemed impossible. This was all a bad dream. If nothing happened, then you weren't betrayed, right? Still, your heart ached. Your heart ached for another reason. You couldn't even feel angry because you were more concerned with his trembling, cracking voice. What the hell was wrong with you. What was even worse was that Spencer didn't have the courage to look at you. His gaze wandered, staring at the floor, his gaze meeting everything and everyone but you.

"Good. Let's get to work."

Soon, you were sitting at the same round table as always. All of their letters in front of you. The same written pages that you had seen in Spencer's apartment, but that you had never touched. You hadn't spoken to him since his confession and plea for help. You should have occupied yourself with the fact that this was about the life of an innocent woman, approached it professionally, but you couldn't. Looking at these letters, holding them in your hands and reading them, you pressed your lips into a line. You didn't share your thoughts or observations. In fact, you didn't have any, because all the letters merged into one, and you weren't able to think deeper.

Spencer was clearly taking it, looking worse than he had during any stressful case, worse than he had during any other stressful event. And you wanted to help him, or take him aside and talk to him. But he didn't seem to have a clear head to talk. What were you supposed to do anyway? Comfort him? You were the first loved one, it wasn't fair to you. Who said feelings were fair? Were you supposed to yell at him? In his condition, it wouldn't do any good anyway, and you'd only say too many words because of how you felt now.

He was angry, he didn't behave rationally, he stretched all possible theories. You had never seen Spencer like this, so emotional.

And you thought he was emotional when you were shot in the stomach during one of the cases five, maybe four years ago.

You remember his panic, your hot, scarlet blood on his hands, the pressure of his hand on your stomach where the bullet was and the tears in his eyes. And you smiled slightly at him, you don't know why, but you weren't even scared. You didn't feel any pain, because of the adrenaline in your body. You lost so much blood at the same time that you started to feel blissful, maybe that's why you weren't afraid. He acted like a hothead, and you thought there was no need to panic.

He sat in the hospital all night, right under the operating room, when you were being operated on. For several days he sat in the hospital almost constantly, slept on those uncomfortable chairs and showed you the greatest care. He was the first person you saw after waking up. The team and the nurses practically had to drag him away from the room and the hospital.

He brought you everything that could help you recover faster and smuggled in some snacks when you made pretty eyes, although according to the regulations he shouldn't do that. He explained that he wasn't doing it because it was your whim, but because after losing so much blood you should eat chocolate to normalize. You knew that wasn't his intention, but you appreciated the clever excuse.

It doesn't change the fact that you lost a part of yourself back then.

But his behavior back then was nothing like what he was now. A nervous wreck. He wanted to do everything in his power to save Maeve. How could you have known they were in touch? You thought that after the meds were prescribed, it was over. But no, she had sent him a letter praising his article on psychology. You tried to work on it, like everyone else, you really did, but you felt like shit. Maybe she was what he had always been looking for? They were interested in similar things, had similar topics and knowledge in different areas. Maybe you were just too stupid for the long term, didn't have that much to offer.

Weren't you his love by any chance?

Anyway, you didn't even talk. You didn't bring yourself to talk, you didn't look at him. The team's hard work had paid off, even if the atmosphere was tense and heavy. You were supposed to find Maeve, find out where Diane was holding her. Diane had already killed Bobby, Donovan's ex-fiancé. After her efforts, Garcia discovered where both women could be. Hotch absolutely forbade Spencer from showing up at the scene, but Spencer clearly protested. He wanted to pretend to Diane what he felt for Maeve - love.

After those words, you really felt like nothing.

You no longer showed him the same sweet support you always did, you couldn't, but by not giving up on your help you also made it clear that you wouldn't just abandon him. Despite the lack of contact between you, you devoted your nights to this matter, you slept worse than usual and drank more coffee. Don't kid yourself, you didn't really sleep because you were thinking about your relationship. Was it real or was it your imagination? You weren't working, you were consumed by thoughts and you were losing all of yourself in it.

So you were there for him, well, more for his cause, but for him.

Outskirts of town. Spencer entered the old, abandoned building first. None of you thought it was a good idea, but you didn't stop him. You felt the pain in this whole situation, and you were even more afraid of something happening to him. Well, it was because you loved him. You didn't know if he loved you the same anymore. You couldn't even think about 'no'. You were exhausted for the past few days.

You waited there impatiently, not knowing what was going on inside. At least you didn't see that fake kiss between Diane and Spencer. You knew it would be wiser to step in there, so that's what you did. They tried to keep you at a distance, to the side, so you wouldn't do anything stupid under the influence of emotions. Spencer tried to negotiate with Diane, who was holding a terrified Maeve, while with her other hand she was holding a gun to her own temple. You kept your cool, just like Spencer, but you could see his nervousness.

"He's the one thing you can never take from us." You heard Maeve's last, quiet words, and then a noise.

A bang, a screech in your ears, and a large, spreading stain of blood on the floor. Both women lying on the cold floor, their hair in dark blood, and a gun nearby. You looked at Spencer, who was rooted to the ground, with tears in his eyes. He quickly approached the lying, still warm Maeve. The bullet flew through the head of one and stopped in the head of the other. There was nothing left to save from the shot brain. Spencer's beloved was currently bleeding out in his arms, his hands were completely covered in sticky blood, and tears were running down his cheeks, staining her pale skin and face, from which the life had gone.

Everyone was in shock, no one made a move or said anything. Tears welled up in your own eyes. Partly because of how Spencer felt, how tragic his condition was, partly because you only just realized what was happening. He was crying hard over the body of another woman, whispering quiet words to her, hoping she would hear them, even though it was a foolish hope. He was too stunned to do anything at that point, so you walked up to them, her blood was also on your hands, you thought you could still save her yourself, even though there was no chance of that.

He helped her parents bury her. He was there until the end... in fact, he was there even longer. Everyone else had gone, and he was left at the grave. No, he wasn't there alone. He was there with you. You helped him in everything. You loved him and watched him bury and mourn his beloved woman. He hadn't slept in many nights, his eyes were red and his face was drawn and sunken, and he had probably lost weight. He didn't remember much of the ceremony, he was numb and had been on sedatives for several days.

Days passed, and attempts to contact Spencer were in vain, he wasn't at work, he didn't answer his phone. You went to the staircase of his apartment, to the tenement house where he lived. You'd sometimes pass JJ or Blake going up or down the same stairs. You knew the stairs by heart by now, and every time you went on the second floor up them it only got worse. Penelope left more baskets of food and necessary things by his door. Eventually they disappeared, he had to take them when no one was there, he had to survive somehow, not leaving the apartment.

You couldn't handle it, but you tried not to show it. Despite that, the rest seemed to notice your suffering. They certainly did, knowing how close you were. Suddenly you felt betrayed, rejected. What the fuck was that? You were always there for him, always, you loved him, he seemed to love you sincerely too. And in the end, he suffered because of the loss of another woman. How did she achieve this so quickly? You wanted to be understanding, but you didn't know how. You had the right to hate him, but you didn't do that either. You were left empty.

Without optimism, without a spark in the eyes, without what you started with.

You knocked on his door again, even though you had a feeling it wouldn't make much difference. Your voice was loud enough to be heard, but tired.

"You know Spencer, it's me again." You started uncertainly, having to think about every word so as not to say something stupid. It was a delicate situation. After a moment, you continued. "I just want to know how you're holding up." You leaned toward the dark, wooden door with a small plaque with the number 23.

You heard faint movements and rustling on the other side of the door, but no response. You sighed quietly. "Maybe you don't want to talk to anyone. Okay, I'm not forcing you. I think I look a little stupid talking to the door, though."

Suddenly you heard the sound of the lock turning in the door. The door opened slowly, as if he was wondering if he wanted to open it. Finally you saw him in the doorway, dressed in a thick sweater, deep in mourning. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair uncombed. The curtains in the apartment were drawn, and it was a general mess, which you could only see because of what you could see behind him, in the back of the apartment. "Hey." He was barely holding on.

You wanted to help him, to be there for him again, but you no longer felt entitled to do so. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you into the apartment. You immediately opened one of the windows, not much, just enough so that the fresh air would make him feel better. You repeated your previous question. You were standing close to him, but at a safe distance. "How are you feeling?" You asked in a soft voice with your typical concern.

"Not so well." He answered shortly, he didn't have the strength to talk.

You didn't push. Hell, you couldn't even talk to him. It was almost like you were standing there with a stranger, not with the man, you loved so much. The light you loved so much was gone from this room. It was almost completely dark. The air was thick with lose and indecision.

He walked over to you, more tears flowing from his eyes. Suddenly you were his support again. He hadn't really cried in days, he just didn't have the strength anymore. Seeing you made him realize everything he had done. He clung to you like you were his last lifeline, he clung to no one else but you. You heard his sobbing and some quiet words, you didn't even understand what they were, there were tears in your eyes too, but you didn't hug him like you usually did.

On the corner of the table, the same book was lying again, this time without the brown ribbon. You were lucky you didn't see the dedication inside. It would have destroyed you even more. Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another.

He cried on your shoulder, and you pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart. Why did he even feel entitled to this, why did he keep leaning on you? You felt like screaming. You really wanted to scold him, but it probably wasn't appropriate at the time.

Again you were there for him, it was always you at the end of the day.

The atmosphere at work was tense, heavy. Everyone seemed to be behaving normally, but it wasn't like usual. No one talked to you about the incident anymore, except maybe Penelope, who as always tried to talk to you, to make you feel a little relieved, brought you those herbal, sweet teas with syrups that you loved. She didn't delve into the subject, so as not to drag out your own pain, she skirted the subject all the time. Basically, everyone was tiptoeing around you, which irritated you. Damn, you didn't want any forced pity.

A few weeks passed, Spencer went back to work, but you didn't talk more than necessary and everyone noticed the changes between you. You became colder, distant. After all, your relationship wasn't supposed to affect the team's work. But was it even a relationship anymore?

You bit your nails, picked at the cuticles around your nails, scratched off the polish. You clenched your fists, dug your nails into your palms, leaving indentations in the shape of half moons on the palms of your hands. Every morning you looked at him with a storm in your eyes, and he didn't notice the signals you were sending him.

You had to talk to him, there was no other way. He had avoided you during Maeve's case and the funeral, and after that you had only had this one, harmless conversation because you didn't want to overwhelm him with more things right away. But now you were the one who was overwhelmed. You cared about his well-being, but not your own. It had always been like that, you were mainly concerned about him, even if it was ultimately overwhelming for you.

Was it worth it? Because I don't think so.

Having a free moment, you approached him and approached him. You wondered if you should do it or just back off, but your tongue got the better of you and the words came out. "We should talk."

He immediately turned to you. He knew this conversation would come, but somehow he wasn't ready for it. But he also knew how much worry and pain he had caused you, he couldn't put it off forever and keep running away. Grief wasn't an excuse. "Fine."

You found a spot in the hallway, a little more private, far enough away so you wouldn't be conspicuous through the glass doors. No one in the bullpen needed to hear your conversation or see what you did. You didn't promise predictability.

You could see he wanted to start calmly, like it always was between you, but you started abruptly first. "Spencer, what was that all about?"

He wasn't looking at you again, suddenly the floor seemed much more interesting. "What does that mean?"

"Don't suddenly act stupid, you're not stupid and unintelligent. What was wrong with our relationship?" You play brave, tough. You play because you don't feel that way.

He looked up, his lips pressed into a line. “Nothing. Everything was fine.” His answers were distant.

You shook your head slightly. “Spencer, talk to me, I don’t want any half-spells. You know what, I would expect this from anyone, anyone, but you."

He let you down, he let you down and that hurt him the most. He wasn't what you deserved. "I'm sorry." You could feel the shame in his voice but you didn't want shame or an apology because there was nothing left to save.

"I don't want your sorry. I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy. I didn't expect anything in return, not even though I got your feelings in return, I'm not saying I didn't, I won't lie. But how did you replace me so easily?" And your bravery quickly crumbled, and tears appeared in your eyes, you blinked a few times.

Silence.

"Do something, say something! You won't lose anything anyway." You were starting to get angry. This was the first time you had been angry at him like this and you had allowed yourself to be angry. "Because what else can you lose?" Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut and not said that. It sucks, it happens.

He swallowed hard. "You. I could lose you." He knew those words wouldn't do much now, but he tried anyway.

"Oh, you're just now thinking about this? And where, excuse me, were you earlier?! Sorry I forgot, in a phone booth. And you didn't see my gray face, how sick we've become, and if you noticed, you wouldn't admit it." You didn't mince your words, you deserved to be genuinely mad.

"I..."

You should have let him talk, you should have, but you didn't. "No, listen to me! You acted like the biggest, selfish asshole and I don't know what you were thinking!" He had never seen you so upset with him, but he didn't interrupt. "What did you miss, what did I miss?"

He deserved those words, he knew he deserved them. He didn't even try to argue, he accepted the harsh words. It hurt him more when he heard your question. "No, no, you didn't lack anything. It's my fault and I'm really sorry. You were so good and sweet to me, it's all my fault." He didn't want to lose you too, but he worked for it.

"You can't change anything, beating yourself up now won't change anything... Spence." You hesitated to address him that way at all. You weren't as loud as you had been a few seconds ago, but I guess he preferred it that way. It was easier for him to accept your anger and the hurling of insults than the disappointment in your voice. And that was exactly what was in your voice - disappointment.

He looked almost like a beaten puppy. "I know, I realize that." He thought for a moment; he wasn't in the habit of swearing. "I screwed up."

"Yes, and I don't deny it. I really thought you'd be honest. I wish I had known from the beginning, maybe it would have been easier." You had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't be stupid enough to cry. "I thought it was honest. My own pain was such an imposition."

He reached out and ran his hand through the hair on top of your head. He didn't want to scare you, to do something you wouldn't like, he held his hand there for a moment. "It wasn't an imposition, don't think like that. And you shouldn't have known this from the start, in fact I shouldn't have done it at the first."

You wanted to ask what Maeve had that you didn't, but you didn't even have the courage. You pulled his hand away from your hair. "Those are nice words, but we both know you can't take back your actions, which said something completely different." You bit the inside of your cheek until you finally spoke again. "You're losing me."

He didn't blame you for rejecting his hand, he understood that perfectly well, you had every right to avoid him, but he still felt a pang. He shook his head slightly. "No, don't say that, please."

"But it's over, Spence. You kind of decided that yourself. I'm really sorry she's gone, but helping with a case like hers is one thing, and love is another. I know you and I saw, well... that." You didn't want to bring up the brutal murder directly. "That's what love looked like."

For a moment you stood in silence, he couldn't deny it and you didn't know what to say. Without a word you turned around and started walking down the hallway towards the glass doors, a few tears in your eyes balanced between your lash line and the corners of your eyes.

Spencer lost something again, but you were no longer there for him.

See? I told you so.

You know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #gublernation #angst #angst with a sad ending

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silliest-sideblog · 3 days ago

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New Years Kiss

Pairing: Etho/Tango

Length: 1k words

A/N: It's technically New Years here already and I wanted to post this before people are heading out. So here's another little Slabtek fic, this time for new years eve!

Technically it's set after my other fic "Just a little distraction" but it's not relevant. I just wanted to write something indulgent for the holidays.

Happy New Years everyone, hope I can get even more writing done next year!

Etho and Tango sit in the reiling of the steampunk blimp that looms above Tango's still unfinished factory, looking towards where Cub is hosting a large fireworks show with the help of some of the others. There's food and people are talking and laughing.

Almost everyone is there, but not these two.

Of course they love their friends and enjoy spending time with them but it's already so noisy and crowded at times and right now they prefer the quiet of it all. Plus Tango insists the view from up here is so much better than being up close.

They sit, legs dangling, and just watch over the server for a while. It's a comfortable silence around them, without the need to fill it.

Tango got out his notepad occasionally to write down some idea or another that went through his head, telling Etho about it as he writes.

Neither of them has a clock on them and they don't know how late it is.

Eventually, Etho breaks the silence."So when do we get sappy and talk about the past year?"

The smile is audible in his voice and Tango doesn't even need to look up to see the way his eyes crinkle slightly alongside it.

"We don't have to if you don't wanna" he just offers in return. Neither of them is the type for this kind of stuff anyway.

Etho shrug and they sit in silence once more but now that Etho mentioned it once, Tango is of course thinking about it anyway.

"It sure was a year. Thought I would've gotten more done" Tango sighs. He's now looking down at his unfinished factory. "Thought I'd at least have that thing done a bit more done by now. Instead I spent half the year in a hole and the other half fixing this mess." he laughs sorely.

Etho gently kicks against his boot.

"You got everyone addicted to your game. Again." he throws in and Tango knows that it's not just to cheer him up.

"Only took me what? 5 months? And even then it was kind of a mess. All the bugs and so much that went wrong..."

A beat later, "Sorry. Didn't want to spend the last few minutes of the year being miserable" Tango says but he can't help the slight smile in his voice because Etho knows how he is. And Tango knows that Etho doesn't mind; that sometimes Tango needs to talk himself down, let out an annoyed sigh at himself and get to it. But there's not really a getting to it now on New Year's now, is there?

But the sigh already helps enough.

"What about you? Happy with this one?" Tango asks, changing the subject away from himself. Funny thing how neither of them can stand bring the focus for too long.

"Sure, could say that." Etho says but doesn't really elaborate.

Many good things have happened for the both of them. They made games for their friends and had the joy of watching them play and laugh. Struggle and get better.

Etho got over himself and built a roof for his house, something he's at least decently happy with.

Tangos factory is, despite the flaws he's deeply unhappy with, quite the impressive piece of redstone work.

The time they spent with everyone, laughing and learning from each other, watching their friends grow and live alongside them.

Neither of them says it out loud but that's what's been filling this year for them.

Another thing they don't say out loud, not earlier, not right now, is them. For a few months now they have been closer than ever before and since that one afternoon in the redstone of Hungry Hermits...

Things have changed between them, kisses have been stolen away, nights spent at the others, mostly Etho's, base; Tango's starter house being mostly unused at this point.

Still they haven't talked about it. Why would they? It's not like that would change anything.

Or it would. It would put expectations up, and Tango doesn't know if he's ready for that.

What would Etho even expect from him? Dates? Kissing? To tell other people?

Tango is lost in his own thoughts, he barely hears Etho's question.

"How long do you think we still have till midnight?"

"Huh?" Tango looks up at him, taking a moment to register the question and as his brain catches up and he wants to reply, the fireworks are beginning to light up the night sky.

And Tango can't take his eyes off Etho, his face illuminated by the flickering lights all over the night sky.

What would be expected of them? Shouldn't they kiss now?

Does it matter what's expected of them?

"Happy new year, Etho" Tango says with a bright smile as he realizes it doesn't matter.

He can see Etho return the expression, see it in his eyes, his eyebrows, the way his cheeks move under the mask.

Carefully, Tango reaches out and pulls on the fabric and Etho doesn't stop him. He never has.

Slowly their lips meet, as if they're making this something special.

Tango smiles into the kiss. He wouldn't have expected to be the type of person who enjoys something as dumb as a kiss on new years but here he is. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Of course it feels silly and cheesy and neither of them really need it. But maybe that is part of the charm.

Once Tango pulls back he cant stop grinning at Etho. And that grin doesn't vanish when the taller one starts leaning his head on Tango's shoulder, slouching slightly to get comfortable.

Tango's tail wraps around his waist affectionately and he hears Etho say quietly, "Happy New Year, Tango."

#Tangotek #Tango tek #Etho #ethoslab #slabtek #tangtho #hermitshipping #hermitfic #hermitcraft #sillywritings #At this point this is the writing equivalent of playing with jpgs like dolls and I don't care about ooc anymore #I just enjoy writing them :3

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lewmagoo · 2 days ago

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what a year it's been! sappy rant under the cut

i'll be completely honest, it wasn't the easiest. i started off the year coming to the realization that the job i had been dreaming about for the better part of a decade was actually not what i wanted, and after experiencing two years of being horrifically miserable, i finally made the decision to walk away from that job, and every single day i am grateful that i did. best decision i ever made.

i experienced a lot of loss this year. my stubborn, sweet, insufferable, lovable little beast, dash, had to be put down in the summer. he was very elderly, so it was his time, but it was hard to say goodbye to the little pup. he was part of my life for fifteen years. a few months after that, my precious grandmother fell ill, and after two months of me, my mom, and my aunts all taking care of her, she passed away. she was the most wonderful person i’ve ever known, which is not an exaggeration. i miss her every day, but i know she’s no longer suffering, and that’s what brings me comfort.

i experienced a lot of firsts this year as well. in the summer, i went on my first solo vacation. it was such a healing experience and i’m so glad i did it. it was the perfect way to come back to myself after a very traumatic few years. i also went to my first concert, which may not seem like a big deal but i was raised in a very fundamentalist, christian environment and was not allowed to do many things. going to concerts was one of those things. this year was really the first year i spread my wings and came into my own, and part of that was booking tickets to see atta boy live. through that, i got to meet sweet lewis, and i am so incredibly thankful for that opportunity. i wouldn’t trade it for the world. i also got to meet some of the tumblr girlies, which was a plus! love y’all!

i am so glad to have found this little community. it is filled with some of the kindest people i know. thank you all for engaging with my writing, allowing me to befriend you, letting me bounce ideas back and forth, sending me encouraging messages, so on and so forth. i’m eager to see what 2025 will bring, for this little community, and for mr. magoo himself! sending so much love to all of you. i hope each of you have a fantastic year filled with so much joy and good fortune. may all your wishes come true.

love,

leah

tagging some beloved mutuals, just to say i love y’all 💖

@peachystenbrough thanks for putting up with all my ramblings in the dms

@withahappyrefrain i love bouncing thoughts back and forth with you! you just get it

@delopsia meeting you was such a pleasure! so glad we got to hang out and meet our favorite lil guy together

@likearolloftape you are such a delight to talk to! i’m so glad we’ve gotten to interact a lot more these last few weeks

@sebsxphia any interaction i have with you is always such a treasure

@fragilefearnie you are so sweet and hilarious, i loved hearing your story about meeting lew 🤭

@fairyheart you are always so supportive and i enjoy interacting with you! your tags are always so relatable too, hehe

@versipellesh thank you for always liking my posts and showing your support! it means more to me than you know

@floydsmuse you are so sweet and i love seeing you on my dash. what a joy it is to share this space with you!

i could mention so many more of you, but tumblr will slap me with a tag limit. so, to the rest of you, happy new year! i hope it’s a good one.

#happy lewmagoo year #hehe

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inkedtae · 1 day ago

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Happy Taecember!

We've reached the end of yet another bias month! I feel like I blinked and landed on the thirty-first day lol

Soooooo..... shall we recap?

I wrote four fics in total, celebrating the one and only, Kim Taehyung. After a quick poll and some feedback, I decided to post three chapters of Rotten Angelcake and a one-shot in honour of his birthday.

I was shaking in my boots with every Rotten update. Readers of that series have been waiting for almost two or three years for these two characters to kiss and I was worried I was going to let them down. I think my fear of disappointing everyone (which was 100% self-inflicted), made me lose some of my momentum and resulted in some late posts. I still got them out within the posting week, however. The feedback always kept me going as well, and I still find it so surreal that even after all this time, there are still some readers dedicated to the story and eager to follow along with their relationship.

The final one-shot was also late, but not due to nerves. I just did not manage my time very well.... BUT! Marked by Krampus still went live within the year so I did not fuck up too bad. I have such a HUGE monster kink and wanted to explore it in this twisted christmas au. I've been thinking about Krampus!Taehyung for a couple of years now and bringing that image to life was such a great way to wrap up Taecember and celebrate my love, Taehyung!

Last Taecember, I was eighteen or twenty days late to start it (I think?) and was only able to post one (?) fic which was Tae's b-day fic, Lurking in the Dark. I think that, even if I was one day late for the last three posts this month, I can still call this Taecember a success. I know I have so much to improve on, like managing my time and schedule better, but I still do not regret a single fic or second of this month.

I miss Taehyung. Like really miss him :( I know ARMYs have been missing him too and so I hope this month you were able to find a little comfort in these stories, a reminder of how much he inspires us, and a spark of excitement for everything he has yet to share with us.

Thank you for celebrating with me—see you next Taecember! 💜

taecember 2024

↳ special thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for making this year's wonderful banner 🤍

Welcome to Taecember!

The year might be coming to an end, but my love for Kim Taehyung is eternal.

I’ve been absent for most of this year and all of last, trying to find myself again. I didn’t feel like I was good enough as a writer and needed time to work through personal challenges. But throughout it all, I found myself craving Taehyung.

With him in the military, it’s been hard to keep him close, even in my thoughts—especially when there’s so little news or updates about him. His online presence, both as part of BTS and individually, was always so familiar and charismatic. Hearing him sing or watching his unhinged, playful moments with his members felt like being cocooned in a thick woollen blanket on a snowy winter night in front of a crackling fire—the pinnacle of warmth and comfort. Since the moment he left, I’ve been craving that sense of solace, finding it only in fleeting moments when he posts or when a new photo surfaces.

No words can truly describe how much I’ve missed him. From his deep voice to his mischievous smile and those kind, expressive eyes that somehow hold so much power—it’s been impossible to shake this yearning. I miss his competitive streak over something as small as a gift card and the passion in his voice when he speaks about his members or ARMY.

I’ve felt the BTS-shaped void in their absence—not just in the industry but in the hearts of ARMY too. Reconnecting with other BTS writers was hard, and I often felt isolated. But with the release of pre-recorded videos and occasional updates, I’ve slowly started to find my confidence again.

So, while he continues his mandatory military service, I want to dedicate this space to celebrating our man, our husband: Mr. Kim Taehyung!

As per Taecember ritual, my blog will be all about Taehyung. From weekly fics to photos, posts, and everything in between, it’s going to be a month-long celebration of him. Weekly chapters of Rotten Angelcake will go live every Monday, and I’ll be sharing a special fic on his birthday as well. If you’d like to join in beyond just reading, feel free to send any Taehyung-related content my way! I’ll also be following the tag #taecember 2024 for all your posts. Please join me in celebrating, the one and only, Kim Taehyung!

Happy Taecember!

❥ xii. rotten angelcake ⟶ december 2nd ↳ ongoing series, sugar daddy au, s2l

❥ xiii. rotten angelcake ⟶ december 11th ↳ ongoing series, sugar daddy au, s2l

❥ xiv. rotten angelcake ⟶ december 16th ↳ ongoing series, sugar daddy au, s2l

❥ marked by krampus ⟶ december 31st ↳ dark themes, twisted christmas au, monster kink

updated : december 31st

#thank you for celebrating taetae with me!!#taecember 2024

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dreamwatch · 2 days ago

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Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Together, Always

Prompt Day 14 : Together | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: MCD, Grief | Tags: Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Secret relationship, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Post S4, Sad, Loss of a Child, Angst, Mourning

Again, very late. I've been sitting on it because I wasn't happy with it but I need to set it free and move on!

There’s no television on, no radio. Wayne doesn’t much see the point in it; they don’t bring comfort, and there’s certainly no joy to be had. So he sits back in his chair with his whisky and does his best not to think. Some days that’s easier than others. Today is hard.

He hears the gravel-churn of tires outside the trailer. The trailer, not his trailer; one provided to him to say sorry. No one ever told him what they were saying sorry for. It’s cold and clinical, most of their possessions were lost back in March. But its a roof, and a bed, and that’s really all he needs these days.

There’s no knock at the door, despite headlights lighting up the inside of the trailer, so he grabs the ever-present shotgun from beside his recliner and heads outside onto the porch. He recognises the car immediately.

The driver’s door opens and Steve Harrington steps out of the car. Wayne lowers the gun.

“Guess you better come in.”

Steve stands awkwardly in the kitchen while Wayne grabs a soda from the fridge. He bought a six pack of Coke for Dustin, back when he used to visit. There’s still three cans left. He hands one to Steve.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” says Steve. “Thought you’d be working.”

Wayne drains the last of his whisky. “Na, not much work around this year.”

It’s a lie. There’s more work than ever; they lost men back in March and the town rebuild has put pressure on the plant. There’s hours to be had, especially for a single man with nothing better to be doing. But not for a man who’s boy was accused of murder, and the way things are going Wayne’s expecting to be canned any day now. The bit that sticks in his craw is all the Christmas’s he had to work, either for the money or because no one would swap a shift with him, leaving Eddie alone. Now he has all the time in the world, but he doesn’t have his boy.

“Your folks home this Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “We didn’t do a lot, but… yeah.”

Wayne does his best to muster up a smile. He doesn’t have much use for them anymore so he has no idea how it reads until he gets a wan smile in return.

“How have you been?” Steve asks, and how does a man that has lost everything answer that?

“Getting by,” is what he settles on.

Steve sits rigid in the chair but there was a time when he’d stand in Wayne’s kitchen in nothing but his boxers cooking breakfast for all of them. When he would laze on the sofa, Eddie tucked in close to him, while they all watched a basketball game. When he could be in Wayne’s home and be as much a part of it as Eddie.

“I’m so sorry, Wayne. I should have come before. I don’t even know why I didn’t, I just—” he swipes at his nose, “I was a fucking coward.”

“You’re here now.”

Steve shakes his head.

“I let you deal with all of that on your own. He’d have been so mad at me.”

Steve was the one who called him from the hospital to tell him that Eddie was hurt. The two of them spent weeks posted like sentinels at Eddie’s bedside as he fought infections and complications, until a warm day in April when Eddie’s eyes cracked open just for a moment and Wayne hoped, before they slipped closed again.

He likes to think Eddie was saying goodbye, but then he’s an old fool.

“I thought I’d see you at the grave, but I guess we’ve been missing each other. I weed it, you know, and clean it…”

Wayne knows what cleaning it entails. He went there once, morbid curiosity when the headstone was finally placed. It had been less than a week before someone had daubed it in paint.

“I miss him, Wayne. I fucking miss him.”

A single fat tear falls from Steve’s chin, though he doesn’t seem to notice, and Wayne wants to hold him but he doesn’t think he has the right.

He’s been waiting for this conversation but somehow it never felt right to chase after Steve, didn’t want to impose if the feelings Steve had for his boy had died right alongside him. Not that he would blame him, he’s young. But Steve’s here telling him that he’s been spending time in that place, well now it feels kind of cruel to not say it.

“He’s not there, Steve.”

Steve looks at him, brow dipped in confusion. “No, I know, heaven and all that, I get it, but—”

“No, Steve. I never buried Eddie. I didn’t want him there for people to do that to him. Boy never had a days peace in his life, he’s sure as shit getting it in death. I had him cremated. Put some of his ashes with his mom. I kept the rest.”

He gestures to the black urn, pride of place next to a photo of Eddie as a young boy, all wide eyes and toothless grin.

“I thought you—” Wayne passes him a small white box, and his throat tightens. “You can put them in jewellery, you know?” He untucks the silver feather pendant from under his shirt. “I thought maybe you might want to….”

Steve brushes his finger over the top of the box. It’s nothing special, just cardboard, Eddie’s name in gold on the top. But it’s better than Eddie rotting away in a grave for people to desecrate. Wayne just couldn’t stand for that.

“I know you’ll meet someone, maybe start a family—”

“No—”

“You will, and that’s okay. He’d want you to be happy. But you didn’t get very long and that cuts me, Steve. You made him happy. So maybe you can be together for a little longer, huh?”

“Always,” Steve chokes, before clearing his throat. “Always.”

#steddie holiday drabbles #steddie #wayne munson #steve harrington #cw grief #cw mcd #secret relationship #good parent wayne munson #sad

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seldomscilence16 · 19 hours ago

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Dream Au Gift Part 1

Been working on this for awhile as a gift for @hey-hey-j cause Dream au is taking over my brain! I think this will be 4 or 5 parts as I work to finish it. I have added a few of my own headcannons so I apologize in advance! I cant help myself :I anyhoo! Dream au part one! Go check out Hey's amazing art as well as other people contributions that have made this so much fun to experience in the dream au tag!

It's another gig, in another random establishment, in another town, with another random group of trolls. The shock of finding another Genre had worn off some years ago, and while it was still amazing to learn about the history of their worlds and vastly different lifestyles, he found himself wandering aimlessly, looking for that next place that’d allow him to play.

....

Floyd is singing.

He didn’t like to think of it as a ‘means to an end’, but sometimes it felt like it. Like there was no real purpose anymore, like he was forcing himself to continue as guilt pulled him further and further down.

His eyes glance over the crowd, some swaying to his tune, others ignoring it as background noise. Green meets pink for just a moment as his eyes move, before flickering back once more. He blinks a few times, as that familiar shock from years ago visits him again, as he takes in this new type of Troll watching him so intently.

A flush darkens their green cheeks as they look away with an embarrassed hand rubbing at their neck. And for the first time in a while, Floyd feels something.

Hickory has never heard such a beautiful laugh, nor has he laughed so hard in quite some time. He finds himself telling this mysterious troll things he’s never shared outside family. He feels at ease, he feels seen, he feels warm and… happy.

So maybe that's why, as his stay here comes to an end, he finds himself extending an offer to his fellow traveler.

A chance to see a few new sights, to hear new music, and to continue getting to know one another.

He’s pleasantly surprised at the ‘yes’ the other breathes, seemingly surprised himself. The smile that comes after is one Hickory promises himself he’ll make happen as often as possible.

A soft kiss pressed to his forehead brings a surprising amount of comfort, easing that ache just a bit. Hickory wraps a soft blanket around his shoulders and urges him towards the sitting area out front. He sits in the fresh morning air tiredly, eyes closed and head tilted back as that familiar contentedness wraps around him.

He never thought he’d feel so at home with someone again. But Hickory, no matter where they traveled, had a way about him that left him feeling warm and loved. And as he comes around him, a soft graze of his hand over his shoulders, offering him a steaming mug, despite his weariness he offers a smile.

“Headache any better?” Asked softly, as he takes the seat across from him.

“A little, yeah.”

The look he receives is concerned, and Floyd knows he must look a mess to garner such a thing,

“If you want me to stay-” A calloused palm resting atop his own hand.

“No no, you go.” He raises his own hand to intertwine their fingers, “I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t Hickory’s first job, nor would it be his last, Floyd wouldn't let a little headache stop the yodeler. He liked his work, he was good at it, and Dockory was there to watch his back.

Floyd knew he’d be back.

The place is a mess.

The destruction left in the wake of giants too much to comprehend beyond his panic.

No one has seen him.

But there is no… no sign of him either.

Which means Floyd was taken.

And Hickory would find him. He would find him. Because he was alive. He had to be.

Please…

Barb stares at the two yodelers warily.

Things had been… tense… since everything. She’d been apologizing a lot- awkwardly, stiltedly- and helping with repairs and the likes where she could. The Funk Royals had been keeping an especially close eye on her, but it felt more like what she remembered of her parents during childhood than anything else- not to say it didn't make her paranoid and want to curl in on herself simultaneously.

But during everything, she had been going out of her way to do things, to try and make amends. So for the two bounty hunters to come to her? Well it was a little odd.

She had held their music over their heads, dangled it on a string, on top of threatening them. These two were the first to approach her at all, and she wondered what was so important that they would come to her over a month after everything.

The shorter one speaks up first,

“Uh, thank you for seeing us, Your Majesty.” It's just as stilted as her own conversations had been, his accent heavy, and despite their short encounters, Barb knows this is very unlike him.

Or maybe not being under threat just made people act differently?

“Yeah, it's… chill. What's up?” Someday maybe she could talk as easily as the Pop Queen, or as elegantly as the Funk Leaders, or as smooth as the Techno DJ, or even as prettilly as the Classical Conductor.

But she doubted it.

The taller side eyes the shorter, hesitant,

“We… need some help.”

Reluctant.

Well. Barb knew how that felt.

She could do this. It'd be a step in the right direction right?

They aren't expecting mail.

And the critter delivering it is unfamiliar and gone as quick as he came.

The letter is written in swirly handwriting, pretty and slightly crooked. A contrast to the actual words, a threat, a warning, a plea.

A fake.

Despite the years, Bruce knew this wasn’t his brother's handwriting.

“You have to go.”

His wife, beautiful and magnificent, stands at the counter behind him, looking down with a concerned tilt to her brow. They’d talked about this a million times, but this… this was the first actual sign.

“It sounds like a trap.” He points out, a weak argument really, he knows he won't be able to stand by.

“Then you’ll be careful.” She turns, signaling to their friend, grabbing the small pack he’s had since the forest, and filling it with supplies.

“I can’t just leave you and the kids, the restaurant.”

“I’m pretty sure Cove has pink-eye, and the restaurant will be fine. You need to go Bruce.”

The pack is placed in front of him, their friend already standing at the bar hat on his head, Bruce takes a deep breath,

“I’ll be back.” He promises, his gut stirring with too many emotions.

“I know you will.” They share a kiss filled with reassurances and love and everything Bruce needs to go through with this.

“Where to Bru?”

“Somewhere called Mount Rageous.”

Part 2>>

#dreamworks trolls #seldomwrites #the dream au #Floyd angst #trolls floyd #flickory

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misskentuckyrain · 2 days ago

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The Queen to the King

Word Count - +1.1k

Warnings: Not really. Smut got left behind for New Year but I did throw in some mild dirty talk to make up for it! - Happy New Year to all!

Chapter 5

“Dija Evah?”

May 1960

Elvis chuckles down the phone line at you “Baby, I’ve been gone less than 24 hours and you’re joining me in less than 48 hours and I miss you already”. You laugh along with him, twirling the receiver cable around your index finger. “You just miss having someone in your bed Mr Presley…” He lets out a guffaw “I miss having YOU in my bed and I miss having YOU with me. We was apart for 2 years, ya’d think the universe would see that as enough time”. A rustling comes dow the line as Elvis makes himself more comfortable in his trailer. He was in LA and had just started on his next movie, GI Blues.

You were aware of the storyline of the movie and were very much looking forward to seeing Elvis in uniform once again. You didn't think you had a kink up until Elvis enlisted but the second you saw him in his uniform you fully understood that you did. The second he stepped out for the first time in uniform you felt yourself getting inappropriately wet. You found your mind starting to wander to the night that he returned back to Graceland after serving his two years overseas in Germany. You had asked him to put on his uniform one last time that night and as you recall the events that followed you start to feel that arousal tingle down your spine once more.

“Baby?…Ya still there?” Your day-dreaming is interrupted by Elvis’ voice in your ear “Sorry…sorry…" you stutter "The line got really bad there for a moment or something” Elvis laughs again “Or something… I know that tone in ya voice, I can always tell. Come on, tell me what it is that’s on ya mind”

You felt yourself getting a little red with embarrassment, which was ridiculous as Elvis couldn’t actually see you, but you forget how intuitive he is with you. “I….I..was just thinking back to your first night home from Germany is all” The line goes silent and then some more rustling. “Hhhmmnnn” you hear Elvis sigh “THAT was quite the night. You really showed me how much you missed me that night honey! Rocked my socks right off…an' my pants…an' my co…” “Elvis!” you squealed into the telephone, making him laugh. “What?!? You did! I mean I know we have some good lovin’ often but that night nearly topped the night of the first” “And we don’t need to talk about that right now!” you interrupt. “Awww baby, no need to be embarrassed. I’m proud of the fact I made our first time so good you passed out cold on me. I was clearly too much for ya to handle” he laughs some more. You know he’s being a little cocky now but at the time he freaked out so much his mamma had him breathing into a paper bag.

Your mind starts to wander again this time back to that night. Elvis had made you come so hard the second time you passed right out in his arms not long after. He had run out of the bedroom, butt-naked, yelling to his mamma and daddy to come help as he thought he had killed you somehow. Thankfully you came around fairly quickly but were mortified to be surrounded by Elvis and his parents fussing over you, as you lay in Elvis bed, naked. It wasn’t funny then but ever since it brings Elvis much amusement to refer to it only as “the night of the first”.

“Keep teasing me and the other night will be the night of the last” you mutter down the line, referring to the night before he left for LA when you had ridden him, several times, into the early hours.

“Don’t be sore baby, you know I’m just teasing ‘cause I love you. Biggest fright of my life that night. Pretty sure Daddy hasn’t got over it, he didn’t know what to do or where to look!” he pauses “Maybe I can try again tomorrow night when you get here? Celebrate my baby coming to be with me by making sure my baby is coming over and over again…” “Elvis!…” you interrupt him again with a laugh “You and your filthy mouth!” You berate him but your tone gives away the fact that you don’t mean it, you quite like his filthy mouth.

“Ok, Ok I’ll behave. What time does your flight get in? I’ll get one of the guys to come pick you up. I want to do it myself but I’ll be on set. I’ll get them to bring you here so I can see you the second I’m done.”

Leaning over to the bedside table you scour the flight details that you’d scrawled on a bit of paper earlier.“It get’s in at 1pm….” It was Elvis’ turn to interrupt “So I can get in you around 8pm?”

Rolling your eyes with a smile “How’s that good behavin’ workin’ out for ya? Besides I can’t believe you would make me wait that long!” there’s a moments pause, you can hear Elvis’ mind whirring away. “You’re right…” he starts “I need to get in you around 3pm, then I’ll take you for dinner and then I’ll take you from behind at 8pm” You try not to encourage him but you can’t help it “Ooooh I’m gettin’ the fancy treatment tomorrow night”

You’re both now laughing. It’s part of why you are so in love with Elvis Presley. Aside from his often filthy mouth he makes you laugh like no other has.

“In all seriousness honey I’ll take you somewhere real nice tomorrow night. Somewhere romantic and private, just you and me.” Elvis states softly. “I’m very much looking forward to it. Who knows if it’s private enough maybe I can get on my knees for dessert” you say quietly, hearing a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line.

“Who’s got the filthy mouth now honey?” he tries to ask seriously but you can actually hear the smile on his lips.

“But isn’t that one of the things you love most about me Mr Presley? My filthy mouth or…" you pause, pretending to thing for a moment "more accurately your cock being in my filthy mouth?” More rustling sounds out down the line. You imagine Elvis is having to rearrange himself in his pants, aroused by your conversation. Maybe lingering his hand there longer than necessary. You shake your head to try to clear your thoughts, before the spike of arousal in your own body gets stronger and you find yourself doing the same.

“Well, the future Mrs Presley. I do confess your filthy mouth to be one of the reasons I asked you to marry me”

Elvis chuckles and you along with him as you glance down at your left hand. The light coming through the window hits the diamond sat on your ring finger at that moment making it sparkle.

Tags:

@iloveelvisss @atleastpleasetelephone @wildhorseinkansas

#elvis #elvis smut #elvis fans #60s elvis #elvis the king #70s elvis #50s elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis fan fiction #elvis x reader #elvis fandom #elvis presley

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pinkberrytea · 19 hours ago

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midnight blue 🌙

Round, radiant and casting a creamy white halo, the moon stands before them proudly, imposingly, a celestial pearl in a sea of stars.

Diana may be too perceptive for her own good, but Astarion is no less insightful; he has a suprise for her, one she will not soon forget.

Spawn Astarion x Named F!Tav (Diana)

w/c: 1.5k words . spotify playlist . dividers

a/n: happy new year! this fic is a gift for @amoremagnificentbastard as part of our server's secret santa exchange. i was so excited that i got to write for diana, but also pretty intimidated since i feel like that's a huge responsibility! i hope i was able to do her justice. if you haven't read amy's distarion fics, please do yourself a favor and go read them already, i promise you won't be disappointed! i'd like to again thank @xxnashiraxx for her invaluable support; she was there holding my hand ever since the drafting stages, and i couldn't have done this without her. i love you friendo!

tags: hurt & comfort; fluff & angst

“How much farther, Astarion? I’m freezing,” the young priestess says, arms wrapped around herself in an unsuccessful effort to shield her shivering body from the harsh winter cold. Her coppery curls bounce with each step, the late night silence broken only by the howling wind and the crunch of snow underfoot. What was she thinking, indulging him when he insisted that they go on a “light hike”? Although in truth, denying him never came to her naturally, and it only seemed to become harder with every passing day; not that he made things any easier, but the amount of incentive required for Diana to submit to her lover’s whims had dropped to dangerously low levels in the past few months, much to her dismay.

“We’re almost there, darling.” Astarion’s face creases into a smuggish simper, and he stops, holding out a hand while waiting for her to catch up to him. “I thought you had snowfall in Amn?” he asks, voice laced with a playful lilt and eyebrows quirked upwards in feigned surprise. Diana pouts, forehead wrinkling with annoyance, acquiescing though begrudgingly and intertwining her fingers with his outstretched ones; as soon as she does, he pulls her to him and sneaks an arm around her shoulders, which doesn’t really help with the cold considering his own lack of natural heat, and yet the familiarity of his embrace brings her comfort anyway.

“We do. Just not like this,” she mutters, her softening frown betraying the disgruntled tone with which the words leave her lips. He plants a loving kiss on her temple before picking up the pace, and it doesn’t take long for the indigo sky to start peeking out through the dense foliage of the towering trees surrounding them, adorned with a glimmering blanket of twinkling stars.

“There. Just behind that rock,” Astarion says, pointing to the rocky outcrop at the end of the path they’d been following. Diana scrunches up her nose, disdain crafting her cerulean irises into a frustrated stare, but before she can protest, he squeezes her arm reassuringly and meets her gaze with rounded, almost pleading eyes. “You trust me, don’t you?”

The priestess is briefly taken aback, blinking slowly as if thinking of what to say; once enough time has passed, she lets out an exasperated sigh, hunching in defeat. “I do. You know I do. But gods, Astarion, climbing a rock? In the middle of the night? In this weather? That’s a big ask even for me,” she retorts, brushing her hair to one side, though the warmth radiating from her voice and the subtle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth tell a different story—one where he emerges victorious.

“I know, sweet girl. Thank the gods I have such a patient, understanding lover, hm?” he purrs, clearly pleased with himself. Diana sighs again, and without first shooting him a disapproving glance, she lets him guide her to the base of the rugged boulder. The night is bright enough that even her human eyes are able to make out all the ridges and crevices she’s supposed to use as leverage to reach the top, but still, Astarion steps forward and takes the lead, pulling her up as he slowly claws his way to the summit.

“Careful, darling.” Taking her hand in his, he watches her feet to make sure she’s keeping herself steady. The phantoms of days past rush through her mind as they inch closer to their intended destination, and in the minutes that follow, it’s as if they’re still lost in the wilderness with a mind flayer tadpole lodged within the recesses of their brains, a promise of ceremorphosis that would never come to be. They had climbed many a rock back then, though never during the night—their life together in the sun now feels like a distant dream, a wistful memory.

“Do you ever regret it?” Diana asks, her voice small, hushed, no louder than a whisper; they both lie naked in their shared bed, Astarion with his pectorals pressed flat against her back, one arm folded possessively around her hip. The sunlight casts dancing shadows from behind the tightly drawn curtains, almost teasingly, caressing the pure white sheets with ghostly brushes of its long, splaying fingers. His closed eyes twitch in acknowledgement of her question, but he remains quiet for a while; when she is finally convinced he has fallen back into a trance, he then suddenly breaks the silence, cold lips vibrating against the warm skin of her shoulder as he speaks.

“Regret what, darling?” The tone with which he articulates each word is remarkably gentle, tentative, even. She doesn’t reply immediately, trying to first contend with the inevitable pang in her chest, searching for the source of it, much as it eludes her. This happiness, this halcyon bliss, why does she think herself not entitled to it? Why does it cause such guilt to bloom in the depths of her heart? No matter how many times he reassures her, it seems her soul can’t be so easily swayed—they did the right thing, of that there is no doubt, but none of it holds any weight when she isn’t the one struggling with the consequences; when he’s the one sentenced to spend the rest of his days in darkness, never again to feel the sun on his face, never again to feels its soothing heat.

“Nothing. Forget it.” And just like that, Diana once more closes that door before it’s even opened. Truth be told, she’s terrified she won’t be able to seal it back shut; she’s terrified that whatever is hiding behind it will cause her fragile reverie to shatter into a thousand pieces, crumble into dust and dissolve in the ground beneath her feet. She’s afraid, so afraid—of losing him, of losing them, of losing everything.

Everything.

“My love?”

The silky sound of Astarion’s voice brings Diana back to the present, and she jerks her head up to look at him, eyes large and mouth slightly agape. With an eyebrow raised quizzically, he chooses to shrug her reaction off rather than dwell on it, propping himself with both arms to finally leap over the edge of the boulder; he then helps her do the same, and before long the two are standing on the highest point of the hill, hands still locked together.

“So? What do you think?” Astarion asks, staring at her expectantly, appearing almost boyish for a few fleeting moments. She returns his gaze with confusion coloring her expression, but shortly afterwards, his meaning at last becomes clear—a quick turn of her face reveals the reason why they have hiked all the way up to this place, and no sooner than such revelation is brought to light, Diana feels the threat of tears prickle her long lashes.

The full moon.

“By the Moonmaiden’s grace, Astarion… it’s beautiful,” she whispers, bringing a hand to her own quivering lips. Round, radiant and casting a creamy white halo, the moon stands before them proudly, imposingly, a celestial pearl in a sea of stars. It shines so intensely that the landscape splaying below them is fully visible to the naked eye, every tree, every stream, every stone and every flower laid completely bare, stripped from their shadowy secrets. It’s the wee hours, and yet it might as well be noon.

“You know, darling, when you made no mention of the usual request for a pint of milk with the full moon quickly approaching, I really began to worry.” Though his mouth curls up into a smirk, Astarion speaks with apologetic softness, his crimson irises gleaming affectionately. Using his free hand, he tucks an unruly lock of auburn hair behind Diana’s ear; softly brushing the pads of his elegant fingers against her cheek, he then cups it gently, gazing upon her with dreamy tenderness. “Whatever is afflicting you, my dear, we can work through it together. You need not keep it to yourself.”

The tears welling up in the priestess’ eyes finally roll down her now flushed face, leaving a glistening wet trail in their wake. Of course, how could she have been so foolish? Words are not required—she understands it now. One has no need for the sun when they are loved by the moon; one has no need for sunshine when they have the pale, forgiving glow of the Lady of Silver’s moonbeams illuminating the path forward. Astarion is not sentenced to live in darkness—not while Diana remains by his side, not while she is there to bathe him in light, warmth, and life.

Life. With everything it has to offer.

“I love you.”

Their lips touch before their eyelids close, and for a split second they’re each able to see the tiny flecks floating around the others’ pupils, swimming in pools of blood and moonlight. Diana wraps her arms around Astarion’s neck, and he wraps his around her waist; her tears taste salty on his tongue, his breath feels cool against her skin. The winter moon watches them warmly from its place amid the stars, cradling them in its soft embrace; it’s going to be okay. They’re going to be okay. Maybe not forever—maybe not even for long, but right now, all is well, and so it shall remain, until dawn breaks, painting the sky midnight blue.

#personal #astarion #bg3 #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #astarion x female tav #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #tavstarion #my fics #my art

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callme-holly · 2 days ago

Note

Hi!! What about the Outsiders x Reader who had a really overstimulating day (either at work, at school, whatever) and just wants to be held?

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚/𝐧: happy new year y'all !!

Darry Curtis:

Darry will notice immediately that something isn’t right: he’ll spot the tension in your shoulders, the way your a little quieter than usual, and immediately his protective instincts kick in. He won't push you to talk if you don’t want to and will wrap you in a tight hug the second you ask for one, holding you close and rubbing your back soothingly. If you need quiet, he’ll take you to another room, away from the boys, and will just sit with you until you’re ready to head back out.

“You don't gotta talk if you don't want to. But at least let me take care of you.”

Sodapop Curtis:

The second Soda notices something isn’t right; his whole demeanour changes, and he’ll start talking in a low, hushed tone. He’ll wrap you up in a hug, rocking you back and forth and murmuring reassuringly. If it’s a distraction you need, he’ll tell you little jokes to try and ease your tension, and if you need quiet, he’ll sit with you on the couch for as long as you need. He’s great at reading your mood and does everything he can to keep you happy and relaxed.

“I’ve got you. Whatever's bothering ya, you can tell me.”

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony is understanding and gently when he sees that you’re overwhelmed—he doesn’t ask too many questions; he just leads you off to a quiet place and sits with you. He isn’t really the best when it comes to physical comfort, but he will hug you and hold you if you ask. If you want a distraction, he’ll sit and read quietly to you, playing with your hair until your entirely relaxed.

“You don’t gotta carry it all on your own. Im here too.”

Johnny Cade:

Johnny knows all too well how it feels when things get a little too much, and he’s incredibly patient when he notices your change in mood. He’ll sit with you quietly, not saying anything unless you want him to, more than happy to sit in comfortable silence until everything feels a little less overwhelming. If you ask for a hug, he’ll hold you close and lay with you, tracing little patterns against your shoulder. He doesn’t want to crowd you, but he’ll stay close enough to let you know he’s with you.

“Im here… Whatever you need, I got it.”

Dallas Winston:

When Dallas first notices you acting a little off, his first reaction is to ask, “Who’s botherin’ ya”. But the second he realises you’re overwhelmed and your day has been just a little too much, he softens a bit. He’s not the greatest when it comes to words, so instead he’ll tug you into his lap and hold you close, kissing you softly to try and distract you. He doesn’t say much, but his presence is grounding, and he’ll act perfectly normal, putting a movie on quietly in the background. When you finally relax, he might absently play with your hair or rub your back.

“You’re alright, doll. Just let me take care of ya.”

Steve Randle:

Steve knows when something is off, and his first instinct is to hold you from behind and press little kisses to the back of your neck, mumbling softly to you. He’ll talk you through it, his voice low in an attempt to ground you and make everything a little easier. If you want to get out of your head for a bit, he’ll suggest going on a quiet drive around town—no music, no talking, just the two of you together.

“Rough day, huh? C’mon, I ain’t letting you go until you feel better.”

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two might not always be serious, but the second he senses you’re overstimulated, he’s by your side in seconds, pulling you close. He won’t push you to talk and will keep his voice as quiet as he can, swaying gently with you and cracking little jokes to try and ease you. He’s surprisingly good at bringing you back down to earth, getting you exactly what you need without making a big deal out of it.

“You want anything? Water? Blanket? Just me?”

#the outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagine #darry curtis headcanons #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #dallas winston imagine #steve randle x reader #johnny cade x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #soda curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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gay-little-cloud · 9 months ago

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little precious renjun appreciation post because i know how bad and scary anxiety feels like and i hope he knows we love him and will wait forever for him so he should get all the rest he needs and more until he feels healthy and happy again 💛

#get well soon renjun #💛🌼🦊#ily #nct #nct dream #renjun #kpop #hes been bringing me so much happiness and comfort for years #i wish i could do the same for him

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arkangelo-7 · 3 months ago

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I’m sure someone’s already headcannoned this, but Bruce having pet names for the Batkids? Man, those are his babies—you can bet your ass he has pet names for them. He might not be the type of man to show much affection beyond a shoulder pat or the occasional forehead kiss, but he’s determined to parent the crap outta these orphans, and pet names are an easier medium to show that he cares.

Dick is both “chum” and “sweetheart” depending on the context. When Bruce is feeling playful and comfortable (the easy, “your mine and I’m just happy to be here with you” kind of love), he’ll stick with “chum” and Dick absolutely loves it. But when Dick’s sick or has a nightmare or got injured during patrol? It’s sweetheart. It’s default mode for Bruce, because seeing Dick in pain brings up so many raw, intense emotions (Bruce gets scared, goddamit) that it’s easier for him to say “I’ve got you, sweetheart, it’s okay, just keep your eyes on mine,” then it is to say “I’m so terrified that I’m going to loose you, I love you, you’re my everything.”

Jason is“Jaylad.” But it’s less of the name that’s important and more of the story behind it that is. For the first few months that Jason was in Bruce’s care, Bruce didn’t dare call him anything other then his name, in fear that he’d scare him away (he was already so distrusting, so hesitant, so fearful whenever Bruce talked to loud or moved to fast or got upset), but at the same time, he’d seen how pleased Dick had been at being called “chum” and wanted to bestow a similar endearment on Jason. But—he didn’t want to go to far. So instead of calling him “lad” like his own father had once called him, Bruce calls him “Jaylad.” It’s a little more impersonal, but it makes Jason more comfortable. (But when Bruce cradled his son’s broken body he said “no, darling, not you, don’t leave me—” because just how Dick is “sweetheart,” Jason has also always been “darling.”)

For Tim… it’s more complicated. He shoved his way into Bruce’s life and he’s forever grateful, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Jason and Dick. He sees Tim as his son, of course, but their relationship was built on the darkest, most despairing part of Bruce’s life. But even in that terrible season, Bruce would look over at Tim working on a case or cleaning his suit and say, “Good job, sport.” It doesn’t happen often, but Tim is “sport.”

Cassandra is “love.” Bruce has never said it to her, aloud, but he knows Cass can read him well enough to hear the unspoken endearment, to see how much he longs to protect her, bring her joy, fill her heart with all the love she’s filled his with.

Steph is “duck.” And not necessarily because Bruce decided that it was, but because 9 times out of 10 he finds himself screaming, “Robin, get down!” because Stephanie will not for the love of God follow his orders, and end up right in the line of fire. To save time he eventually just started saying “Duck!” It keeps Steph from getting whacked to high heavens and saves Bruce (another) heart attack, but over the years it’s also become somewhat of a ritual to say “duck” whenever Steph walks in the room. Bruce secretly wants to call her “ducky” (which is what his mother called Kate), but he’s never worked up the nerve.

Duke is “kid.” By the time he’s in the family, Bruce has loosened up and lightened up, especially with everyday affection (which is to say, he’s not avoiding it like the plague). He’s quick to say “Good job, kid” whenever Duke had an accomplishment or ask “how are you today, kiddo?” when they see each other in passing in the Batcave.

Damian, lastly, would never allow Bruce to call him anything other then his name. But every once in a while, Bruce can get away with saying “son.” And it’s the best thing in the world.

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #duke thomas #stephanie brown #batfamily #dc #batman #dc comics #batfamily headcannons #pet names #batfamily pet names #bruce wayne loves his kids

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happy74827 · 5 months ago

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Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

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plushstarrs · 25 days ago

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My experience carrying a stuffed animal with me at school every day

Wrapping up my first semester where I decided to be brave and carry a plushie with me, and figured I’d share my experience for anyone who wants to bring their plushies but may be nervous. I carried a small to medium cat plush in my hands and placed them on my desk every day.

I can safely say my experience has been nothing but positive!

- No one ridiculed or treated me unkind for it, any questions were posed with respect. I worried people wouldn’t take me seriously, but it’s not a problem I encountered.

- I made friends more easily and people asked me questions about my plush (name,brand,etc) quite often and seemed interested in my answers.

- None of my professors made any rude comments or told me to put them away. One asked if my plush was a recording device and why I had her but didn’t push further when I replied no, she’s just here because she makes me happy.

- Some professors made jokes, one pretended to punch my cat plush because he “doesn’t like cats” and another told me not to bring a black cat because it reminds him of a past cat he had and disliked. Nothing serious it was all in good fun from professors who frequently joked with other students as well.

- It made me very happy and comforted to have a plushie friend with me!! That alone makes it worth it.

I’m a fourth year college student, if you are in high school your experience may vary as you could face teasing from peers as I had before, but remember the world is so much kinder <3

#age demographic of peers in interacting with was 18-40 so my experiences may differ from younger peers #but I would still encourage you to go for it if you’re thinking of bringing a plushie with you!#don’t let others control harmless things that make you happy #anyways thank you for reading <3 #stuffed animals #plushie community #plushblr #essa #emotional support stuffed animal

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bsturnzmtts · 2 months ago

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Beyond innocence - Matt Sturniolo

Re uploaded because my account bsturnzmtt got deactivated :( Please follow and let me know if you want to be in my tag list !

Paring: dom! Matt x innocent' ! Reader

Contains/warnings: rough sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), creampie (on the pill), p in v, petnames, angsty, reader pretends to be innocent, long plot.

Summary: You were childhood best friends with the Sturniolo triplets. After moving to another state your freshman year, you stayed in touch with Nick and Chris, while Matt never really tried. Years later, Nick and Chris planned a trip to visit you and brought Matt along. They stayed at your house for a month, which gave Matt enough time to realize your innocence facade after seeing the real you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

You are childhood best friends with the triplets. Sadly you had to move to another state when you were in freshman year. But you kept contact with Nick and Chris, Matt never really tried. Years passed and Nick and Chris planned a trip to go visit you. And made Matt come along. The trip is based on staying at your house where you and your mother live for a month and doing many fun activities. Unfortunately Nick and Chris also have an event to attend while they are there, so that obviously takes time that you could use to hang out, and means you're forced to spend more time with Matt.

You were really nervous to get to see the triplets again after many years. Especially Matt, you never really told anyone but back then you had a little crush on him. So it crushed your heart when he did even try to keep contact with you. But you're over that now, you’ve grown… right?

Matt remembers you. You always acted so innocent, oblivious and naive. But he knew deep down you were none of those things, especially after many years have passed and you two have grown

……

Your mother adores the triplets and often talks about the happy times you all had together. She sees them as part of the family and hopes their visit will bring back those happy days. Your mother believes you’re still the same innocent, well-behaved girl from back then, not realizing you’ve changed. Matt, however, always saw right through your act. Even as kids, he knew you weren’t as naive and innocent as you pretended to be for your mother’s sake.

You wake up to a notification buzzing from your phone. A message from Nick lit up on your screen: “We’re on our way. See you in a few hours!”

“Great! Can't waaaaait, see you in a few!!” You text back.

You felt excited and anxious at the same time. It had been years since you moved away, leaving behind the triplets and your shared childhood. While you had kept in touch with Nick and Chris, Matt had always been distant, never bothering to stay connected.

You glanced around your room, making sure everything was in order. You and your mother had prepared for their arrival, ensuring there was space for everyone. Your mom had even prepared their favorite meal.

After checking that everything’s in place you went to get changed. You take off your pjs and put on freshly clean clothes, brushed your teeth and hair, and added some perfume.

As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered how much you’d changed. Would they still recognize you?

Hours later, the doorbell rang, sending a jolt of anticipation through you. You opened the door to find Nick and Chris grinning widely, their familiar faces instantly comforting. You hugged them tightly, the years melting away in an instant.

“Oh my god guys I’ve missed you so much” you say hugging Nick and Chris.

As you pull away from Nick and Chris, you feel a sudden void in the air. You turn around, your heart pounding with anticipation, only to find Matt leaning against the door frame, his piercing gaze locked onto you. “Matt… Heyy it’s been a long time.” You say as you hug him awkwardly, giving him pats on his back. "Yeah, it has been a long time, hasn't it?" Matt says as he hugs you back, his voice smooth and unaffected as he takes in your appearance, a smirk playing on his lips. "But hey, I'm sure we'll catch up soon enough."

Your mother rushed in, thrilled to see the triplets. She hugged them tightly. “I’ve missed you boys! Come in! I made your favorite meal.”

You guys filled the house with laughter and stories, just like old times.

Now it’s time for them to choose a room. Your house has two guest rooms, one which is downstairs with a big bed, and another that is upstairs next to your room with a small bed. So two of the triplets will share the room downstairs and one will use the room upstairs.

“Soo who will sleep where?” You ask.

“I say we flip a coin, the winner gets to have their own room.” Matt says.

“Yeah, sounds fair.” Nick and Chris agreed.

“I’ll take tails.” Chris says.

“Me too.” Nick says.

Matt pulled out a coin from his pocket. “I’ll take heads,” he said. He flipped the coin and it landed in his hand. “Oh, looks like I got it.” Matt smirked.

“Mh great, so Matt takes the upstairs room and you guys share the downstairs room.” You say.

Matt smirks, knowing he got the better end of the deal. He turns to his brothers "You guys can split the downstairs room, don't make a mess of it." He heads up the stairs, leaving Nick and Chris to figure out the sleeping arrangements.

“K! So I’ll help you guys with your luggage.” You say to Nick and Chris as Matt heads upstairs.

"Thanks for the help," Nick says, grabbing his duffel bag. Chris nods in agreement, shouldering his own bag. They head towards their room, chatting excitedly about old times and plans for the weekend. After they finish unpacking you bring them towels and other essentials.

“Here you go guys, if you need anything ask me.” You say to them with a smile.

Then you walked upstairs and knocked on Matt’s door.

"Come in." Matt called out, his voice deep and smooth. You opened the door to find him sprawled out on the bed, shirtless with his long legs crossed and ankles resting on the pillows.

“Oh, hey… here you have towels and other things you might need.” You say.

Matt raises an eyebrow, taking in your sight, before sitting up to accept the towels, trying not to let his eyes wander too much. "Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” You say with a smile.

He sets the towels aside and pats the bed beside him in an unspoken invitation. "So, how's life been treating you?" His question is casual, but there's a hint of genuine curiosity in his gaze as he studies your face.

“Good y’know, normal” you respond.

He nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he leans back on the pillows, one hand absently running through his hair. "Normal, huh? That's good to hear.“

You stand there awkwardly. “Yeah… What about you?” You ask.

He shrugs, letting his hand fall to the bed. "It's been... interesting. Work keeps me busy, but I can't complain. It's fulfilling." He says.

“Yeah, it must be fun being a youtuber. Anyways… good catching up, I’m gonna go see if Nick and Chris need some help.” You say.

"Sure, I'll let you get back to your friends. But first" He says as he stands up and grabs your wrist. “What?” You ask with curiosity. "First, I want to show you something." He pulls you closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. "Close the door behind you, will you?" “Matt, what is this about?” You ask with curiosity. "You'll see, now close the door." he said with a mischievous look in his eyes. “… fine.” You roll your eyes and close the door.

He chuckles at your eye roll and keeps his eyes on you. After the door is closed he turns around and walks over to his dresser. He opens it and pulls out a familiar bag to you. “Mmh I think I found something very interesting about you.” He says with a smirk walking closer to you holding a very fancy bag containing the lingerie you recently bought.

Your eyes widen as you see the bag on his hands. “What!? You went through my room!?” You ask, feeling a little frustrated.

He chuckles at your reaction. “Hey! I got confused, okay? Your room is right next to mine, I just accidentally opened the wrong door, and thought ‘why don’t I take a look?’ So yea, I was snooping around, sue me… but look what I found. And let me tell you, I'm rather impressed," he says, his tone dripping with amusement and a hint of something more.

“Ugh! Give it to me!” You say and try to snatch the bag out of his hands.

"Ah ah ah, not so fast, sweetheart," he says with a playful chuckle, holding the bag just out of your reach. He takes a step back, his eyes roving over your form with a smug expression.

“What would your dear mother think about her little perfectly behaved, innocent and naive daughter buying this kind of stuff?” He says with a smirk.

You roll your eyes in frustration. “Matt-“ but when you’re about to say something your mother walks in.

“Hey! I just wanted to check if everything was good. Did you get everything you need Matt?” Your mother asks sweetly.

“Yes! I already gave him the towels and everything!” You answer quickly, then turn to look at Matt. “If you need anything else you can ask me.” You say to Matt feigning a sweet innocent tone.

Matt smirks at your sweet tone, but says nothing for the moment, keeping the bag of lingerie tightly in his grasp. He glances at your mother, who seems oblivious to the awkward situation, and back to you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Great! I’m off to work sweetie, could you finish the dishes please?” Your mom says.

“Of course mom. Good luck at work.” You answer with a smile.

Your mom gives you a peck on the cheek, humming a happy tune as she heads out the door. The moment she's gone, Matt closes it behind her with a soft click. He turns back to you, a playful glint in his eye. "Now, where were we?“

“Give me the bag, Matt.” You say in a serious tone.

He chuckles, the sound low and husky as he holds the bag out of your reach, teasing you with the temptation. "Ah, come on. Don't be like that. It's just a little fun, isn't it?”

“It’s not even mine. I’m hiding it for a friend. I would never use that kind of stuff.” You say.

The teasing glint in his eyes falters slightly, replaced by a flash of surprise. Then, he laughs again, a genuine amusement coloring his gaze as he hands you the bag. "Sure you wouldn't…Sure you wouldn't.”

“I swear! That’s probably expensive, so I wouldn’t be able to afford it.” You answer defensively.

Matt chuckles. “Fine, fine you can have the bag.” He hands you the bag, but still not believing you.

You roll your eyes and grab the bag. “Thank you.”

"No problem, sweetheart." He winks at you, then leans against the dresser, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes never leave yours, a playful smirk still on his face. "So, which friend is it for, hmm?”

“Ugh none of your business.” You say and leave the room and go to your room.

Matt smirks after you leave, shaking his head slowly. He chuckles to himself, making a mental note to double check that story later.

As soon as you get to your room you close the door and let out sigh, feeling happy Matt ‘bought’ your lie. You quickly hide the bag again, but this time in another place. After that you decided to go downstairs and see what Chris and Nick are up to.

You walk downstairs, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet house. As you reach the living room, you see Chris and Nick lounging on the couch. “Hey guys! whatcha doin?”

“Oh hey, we were just finishing getting ready for our event, it starts today” Nick answers.

“Todayyy? But you just got here.” You say.

The boys nod, confirming what they just said. Chris stretches on the couch lazily, grinning as he does so. "Yeah, we're excited to finally get started.”

“That’s good.” You say, then you har steps coming down the stairs.

Matt strolls down the stairs, a mischievous glint in his eye, he approaches the group, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Hey, don’t worry, you can hang out with me while they’re gone.” He says looking at you.

You faked a smile and answered. “Rightttt.”

He chuckles at your forced enthusiasm, knowing full well you're not entirely thrilled about the idea. He moves to sit on the armchair across from the couch, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp as he watches you. “Our car is here Nick.” Chris says. “Okay okay I’m ready! Bye guysss see you later.” Nick says.

“Byeee I’ll miss you.” You say as they walk out the door.

"I'm sure you will" he said, watching as Chris and Nick leave the house. Once they're gone, Matt turns his attention back to you. "Well, I guess it's just you and me now." He says with a smirk.

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. “Great.”

He chuckles under his breath, finding amusement in your annoyance. "Ah come on, don't be like that" he says as he leans back in the armchair. His eyes never leave yours, his gaze intent as he studies you from afar.

“I need to finish doing the dishes.” You say and walk to the kitchen.

"Oh, alright then" He says with a playful tone in his voice. As you move to the kitchen, he follows you, making himself comfortable on the counter top.

You start doing the dishes.

He watches you intently as you start washing the dishes, his presence making the ordinary task feel charged with unspoken tension. "So, I've been thinking..." he says casually, his voice low and smooth like velvet.

“What?” You sigh.

He leans in a bit closer, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you with an unnerving intensity in his eyes. "About our little chat earlier," he begins, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I think you might be hiding something from me, sweetheart.”

“That lingerie is not mine. I already told you.” You say.

He laughs softly, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh come on, you can drop the act with me. I know it's yours." He says, folding his arms across his chest as he watches you. “Who are you planning to wear all that stuff for?” He asks.

“Not you.” You snapped.

"Ah, so feisty today," he muses, a smirk playing on his lips. "I like it." He leans back against the counter, his posture relaxed but his eyes never leaving yours. "Well then, whose is it?" He asks, his voice light and teasing. He knows you're not actually angry with him, just a bit flustered.

“None of your business.” You answer and finish doing the dishes.

He chuckles softly at your response, clearly enjoying the little back-and-forth between the both of you. Once you're done with the dishes, he slides off the counter top and moves to stand in front of you, his gaze steady and unwavering. “I guess I’ll have to find out for myself then.”

“Yeah whatever.” You say and start walking away.

He catches your wrist, pulling you back around to face him. His grip is firm but not painful, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your skin. "Whatever, huh?" He says, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

“What do you want, Matt?” You ask.

He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I want to know who the lingerie belongs to, for starters," he says, his tone teasing and playful.

“Fine. It’s mine.” You confess.

He smirks at your admission, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I knew it," he says, his tone triumphant. He releases your wrist and steps back, his hands raised in a see, I told you so' gesture. "I must say, I'm impressed.”

You roll your eyes at him.

He laughs at your reaction, the sound deep and rich. He enjoys teasing you, knowing he can get a rise out of you so easily. "Hey, I'm just saying, it takes a confident woman to wear lingerie like that,”

“Happy now?” You ask with sarcasm. “It’s mine, are you done?”

He grins at your sarcasm, clearly enjoying the banter between the both of you. "For now," he replies, his tone light and unbothered.

You pull away from his grip and go to your room.

He lets you go, his eyes following you as you walk away. His grin doesn't fade as he watches you leave, still amused by your reaction. He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, as he watches you disappear into your room.

You stay in your room for a couple of hours until you get bored and decide to text Chris and Nick.

“Hey guysss at what time are you coming back? It’s getting lateee.” You text.

“This thing got delayed, so we’ll probably be here more time than expected :(“ Chris responds.

“Yeah, we’ll get home late. But don’t worry we have tomorrow to hangout.” Nick adds.

“Okayyy it’s fineee, luv u bye!” You text.

You lay in your bed bored, not knowing what to do.

But in the other hand, Matt did have a plan. He wants to annoy you, to tease you. So immediately after he got out of the shower he went into your room only wearing a towel hanging lowly on his hips. With an excuse to ask you a question.

Without knocking he just walked into your room. “Hey do you have-“

Your eyes immediately went to his body watching the water droplets dripping from his hair to his chest, his arms, how the towel is barely hanging over his hips. But you quickly wake yourself up giving him an ‘annoyed’ look. “Do you not know what knocking is?”

He grins widely at your reaction, his eyes glinting mischievously. He has exactly the reaction he wanted from you. "Thanks for reminding me, I forgot all about that." He says as his fingers lightly graze the door frame. “Anyway, I came to ask you, if you have a bathrobe I could borrow?”

“Ugh, no I don’t ha- wait… I already gave you one with the rest of the towels.” You say.

He chuckles at your exasperation, clearly amused by your flustered state. “What? You did?” He asks, while his eyebrows furrow in mock confusion, but his grin doesn't fade away. “Mh, I guess I forgot to check. My bad.”

“Yeah whatever, just leave.” You say and roll your eyes.

He chuckles again and exits the room, still with that infuriating grin on his face.

“And knock on the door next time!” You shout so he can hear you through the door.

He laughs as he closes your door behind him, the sound echoing in the hallway. "I'll try, but no promises," he calls back, his voice teasing and light. He can't help but feel a thrill at having gotten such a strong reaction from you.

As soon as he leaves you let out a sigh feeling frustrated, at him but especially at yourself, because of how wet you got by seeing him like that.

‘Mh if he’s going to play that game, I can play it too.’ You think to yourself.

After a while Nick and Chris finally get home. You guys ordered pizza and hung out for a little bit, after that you all went to bed.

Matt settles into bed, his thoughts lingering on the evening's events. He can't help but replay the moments in his head, the way your eyes widened when he entered your room, the flush on your cheeks, the annoyance in your voice. It was exhilarating, knowing he could get such a reaction from you. And he wanted more.

The next day you took Nick, Chris and Matt to all your favorite places and restaurants. You guys had a lot of fun, until the afternoon hit. It’s currently 5 pm and Nick and Chris have to leave again.

“Ughh againnnn?” You ask in a whiny voice.

“Yessss we’re so sorryyyy, this event lasts about a week and we have to go every day.” Nick says.

“But after the weekend we’ll have a lot of time to spend together.” Chris says.

They finish getting ready and leave.

Matt watches as Nick and Chris say their goodbyes and leave. He catches your eye, a slight smirk on his lips as he sees your whiny expression. "Well, looks like it's just you and me now," he says, his voice low and playful.

“Did my mom leave for work already?” You ask.

“Yeah like an hour ago. So no need to keep up with your innocent act.” He says.

You give him a glare and stand up to head to your room. But as you stand up, you ‘accidentally’ drop your phone. So you bend over in front of him, your back facing him.

He watches as you bend over to pick up your phone, taking in the sight of your curves and the way your shorts rise slightly. He bites back a groan as he adjusts himself, trying to hide his growing boner.

After you pick your phone up you stand up and leave like nothing happened.

He watches you leave, his eyes glued to your retreating figure. "Such a tease," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head with a small smile.

He is not gonna let you win this little game you two are playing. So for that he decided that he needs a change of clothes. He went to his room and changed his jeans for a pair of grey sweatpants, and obviously he didn’t forget to take out his boxers too. This change of undergarment leaves in view his erection that you left him with. With that said he goes back to the living room and puts on a movie, making sure the volume is loud enough to be heard in your room.

You start hearing a movie playing on the tv coming from the living room. ‘Ugh i'm going to kill him.’ You say in your mind. As you’re about to leave your room you decided to get more ‘comfortable’. So you take your bra off, now only wearing your white tee covering (barely) your upper body. You storm downstairs to the living room with an annoyed expression. “What’s your problem!? The whole neighborhood can probably hear the tv!” You say trying to avoid looking at his clear boner.

As you storm into the living room, Matt watches you with a smirk, his eyes flicking down to your almost exposed chest before meeting your gaze again. "Oh, was I being too loud for you, princess?" he taunts, making no effort to hide his obvious arousal.

You glare at him. “Yes! So turn down the volume.”

He smirks at your insistence, clearly enjoying the power dynamic between you two. Rising from the couch, he walks over to the TV and lowers the volume, his movements purposefully slow so you can't help but notice the bulge in his sweatpants with each step. As he does, his gaze lingers on your chest, the movement causing your braless breasts to jiggle slightly beneath the fabric of your shirt. "There, is that better?”

“Sure I guess.” You say and go to the kitchen.

Matt watches you head to the kitchen, his eyes never leaving your back as you walk away. He can't help but imagine the swell of your bare breasts, the way they'd feel in his hands, and it makes his cock throb with desire. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse. He waits a few moments before following you into the kitchen, his movements a bit more deliberate now. As he enters, he leans against the counter, folding his arms across his chest in a nonchalant pose that belies the hardness still prominent in his sweatpants.

You ignore him grabbing a glass and pouring yourself some water.

He watches as you take a long drink of water, imagining how refreshed your lips would look after being wrapped around his cock. "You're awfully quiet now," he observes, his tone light but with an undercurrent of suggestion. His eyes rove over your form, lingering on the way your t-shirt clings to your curves, the soft swell of your breasts.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You say setting down the glass on the counter.

He smirks, unfazed by your cold tone. "Is that so? Because I seem to recall you had plenty to say earlier." His eyes drop to your chest again, the thin fabric of your shirt doing little to hide the delicate outline of your nipples.

“That’s because you decided to be annoying and put the tv on max volume.” You say

"Well, maybe if you'd stop ignoring me and actually engaged in a conversation, I wouldn't have to resort to such measures.” his voice low and husky.

“So you did that to get my attention?” You ask.

"Maybe," he admits with a shrug, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Why? You want to have a ‘conversation’?” You ask.

He raises an eyebrow at your sarcasm but doesn't comment on it. "Yes, I do," he says evenly. "Unless you're just going to keep giving me the silent treatment.”

“…fine. I won’t.” You say.

"Good. I was hoping you'd see it my way." He takes a step closer, his tall frame looming over you, the air between you charged with tension. "So tell me, what's really going on with you? Why the attitude?”

“What attitude?” You ask.

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "Don't play dumb with me. You're clearly upset about something." He leans in, his face inches from yours, his breath warm on your skin. "Why don't you just say it?”

“Ohh I don’t know… did you do anything to upset me?” You ask in a sarcastic way.

"Me? No, never." He says with a smug smile, but you can see the glint in his eyes.

“Then I guess I’m not upset.” You say with sarcasm.

"Not upset, huh? Well, it sure seems like you are.” he growls, his voice low and urgent.

“No, if you claim you did nothing to upset me, then im not upset. Why would I be upset?” You say with sarcasm.

His eyes narrow at your tone, his jaw clenched in irritation. "Because you're still avoiding eye contact, your body language screams 'fuck off,' and you're using sarcasm like a shield. Classic signs of someone who's trying to hide their true feelings.”

“Congratulations, took you long enough to notice.” You say.

Matt scoffs and rolls his eyes. "I don't need a condescending attitude, thank you very much." But then he takes a deep breath and tries again, his voice softer. "Look, I don't know what I did to piss you off, but I'm trying to have a real conversation here. You're not making it easy."

“Maybe I don’t want to have a conversation with someone who was supposed to be my best friend, ended up ghosting me when I move away, never explained why, and decides to come back after years pretending that everything is normal.” You let out.

His eyes widen at your words, and for a moment, he looks taken aback. He takes a step back, his expression softening. "Oh, fuck," he breathes, running a hand through his hair. "I had no idea you felt that way.”

“It wasn’t that hard to keep contact, you know. Your brothers did.” You say.

He looks down, shame creeping into his features. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, alright? I was a fucking idiot for letting so much time pass without reaching out. I got caught up in my own life and... and I messed up. Badly.”

“… whatever Matt.” You say and start walking away.

"No, no, wait." He calls out to you, taking a few hurried steps to catch up. "Please, don't walk away from me. I fucked up, I know. And I want the chance to make it right." He looks at you with earnest eyes, genuinely remorseful.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice softer and more sincere than before. "I fucked up. I know I did. But I've missed you so much, man. I've realized that I can't just let things be without trying to make things right between us. Please forgive me?”

“Fine. I forgive you, it’s been years and I got over it a long time ago. But that doesn’t mean things will go back to normal.” You say.

He nods, understanding. "Yeah, I get that. But maybe that's okay. Maybe we can start fresh, build a new friendship based on who we are now, instead of trying to fit back into the mold of who we used to be." He shifts nervously, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Yeah” you let out a chuckle. “You turned out to be an annoying asshole.” You say jokingly letting out a laugh.

He laughs along with you, relieved that you're willing to give him another chance. "Well, you always had a way of calling me out on my shit," he says with a grin. "But hey, I promise I've been working on being a little less asshole-ish these days.”

“Mmhhh I don't think so, I mean first thing you did when you got here was snoop around my room.” You say and chuckle.

He groans, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay, maybe I haven't completely changed yet," he admits with a laugh. “And it’s just that… I don’t know, you always act to innocent, and I know you’re not. So I just wanted to prove myself right.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say feigning innocence.

He laughs "Oh come on, don't play dumb with me. I'm not stupid, you know. I've seen the way you operate, always playing the sweet, innocent girl, but I know you're hiding something. That's just part of why I had to snoop around.”

“I think I'm going to start locking my room.” You laugh.

He chuckles and smirks at you. "Yeah, maybe you should. Or you know, you could just give in and tell me your secrets," he says playfully.

You chuckle. “Yeah, no way. Anyways it’s getting late and I want to shower before Nick and Chris get here so we can have dinner.” You say.

"Oh, sure thing. I'll let you get to it." He says. "I should probably head back to my room as well and grab a shower myself." He smiles at you, making his way to the door. "I'll see you later then, okay?”

You both go to your own rooms. You take a nice hot shower. When you get out you blow dry your hair and do the rest of your routine. Then you put on some clothes. Your mother is already downstairs making dinner for you guys so you decide to go down and help her. Dinner's ready and Chris and Nick get home. You all sit on the table and eat dinner, Matt sat next to you. Everything was going fine until you felt his hand on your thigh.

You feel his hand creeping up your thigh under the table. His fingers trail up your inner thigh, the touch light but unmistakable. You freeze, the fork halfway to your mouth. You can feel the heat of his skin against yours. His touch is bold, fingers splayed across your leg, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

You swallow the piece of food that you had in your mouth and give him a glare.

He smirks at you and leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Mmm, your thighs are so soft," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, making sure no one saw or heard him. His fingers continue their trail, moving higher before finally coming to a stop just below the hem of your shorts.

“Matt. Stop.” You whisper back, pulling his hand away.

He withdraws his hand, but not before giving your thigh a quick squeeze. “What?" He feigns innocence, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture as if he didn't just grope you under the table. A devilish glint dances in his eyes as he leans back in his chair, smirking.

You glare at him and continue eating. After everyone’s done eating you help your mom pick up the table.

When the table is cleared and the dishes are put in the dishwasher, he comes over to you, his hand resting on your lower back. "Hey," he says softly.

“What?” You ask, avoiding eye contact.

He chuckles lowly and moves to stand in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk in his “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Maybe next time, right now I’m tired and want to go to bed.” You say lying.

"Aww, come on," he coos, his voice dripping with persuasion. "Just a few minutes of your time." He reaches out to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is unmistakable, a mix of desire and something more sinister.

As you look at him you feel yourself getting wetter, but you can’t let him win. “No. Sorry I'm just really tired.” You yawn.

He narrows his eyes, seeing right through your tired act. "Fine," he says, his voice clipped. "But know that this isn't over."

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You say smiling and then walk away.

He watches you go, his eyes smoldering with a heated hunger. He knows he'll get what he wants eventually, but for now, he'll let you think you've won this round.

Next morning…

Nick and Chris had to leave early today for their event, so it was just you and Matt in the house.

As you wake up, you hear some sounds coming from the kitchen. You get up from your bed and put on some sweatpants and a tank top before you go to the kitchen to check what's going on. “What’s going on here? Why is there so much noise?”

Matt is standing at the counter, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them vigorously. He looks up and smirks at you as you enter, his eyes roaming over your casual morning attire. "Just making some breakfast," he says, his tone casual despite the heat in his gaze.

“Did Chris and Nick leave already?” You ask.

"Yep, they had an early call time for their event. So it's just us." He says with a smirk.

“Great.” You say sarcastically as you rub your eyes.

He laughs lightly at your sarcasm, but there's a touch of relief in his laughter. Now that it's just the two of you, he knows he has a better chance at getting what he wants. "Yeah, looks like it," he says, his voice low and full of promise.

You roll your eyes at his response. “Whatever. Don’t burn my house down. I'm gonna go take a shower.”

"Take your time," he says, his voice like honey, as if he's already imagining you in the shower, water cascading down your bare skin. He licks his lips and turns back to the stove, where he starts cooking the eggs.

You go upstairs to your room and start showering.

Downstairs, Matt's thoughts are consumed with you. He pictures you in the shower, your body slick and soapy under the water.

After some minutes you’re done showering and head to your room. You put on your black underwear set and start drying your hair, not noticing the door to your room is slightly opened.

When he’s going to his room he can’t help but notice your door is slightly open. He can't resist his curiosity. He quietly walks towards your room, stopping just outside the open door to sneak a peek. "Damn," he muttered under his breath as he peaked into your room. He sees you half-dressed and towel drying your hair. He felt his arousal spike as he watched the water dripping down the curves of your body.

Unaware of Matt's presence, you finish taking the excess water off your hair and decide to stay comfortable and put on an oversized shirt.

Matt swallows hard, his pulse racing as he drinks in the sight of you in your oversized shirt, leaving your legs exposed. He can't tear his gaze away. His eyes trailed down and admired your legs, feeling the heat of desire building up inside him. But he quickly left and went to his room so you wouldn’t notice.

You grab your phone and head out of your room.

He lays down on his bed, his mind still consumed with thoughts of you. He can't believe how sexy you looked even half-dressed. He groans softly as he starts to stroke his hardening cock, imagining you in more revealing states. "Fuck.” He hears you come out of your room and he decides to follow you. He quickly pulled up his sweatpants and opened the door to his room, seeing you in the hallway. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Hey.. I uhm I’m going down stairs.” You say. You obviously noticed the big bulge in his pants but try not to show it.

He smirks at your reaction, his eyes locked on yours with a knowing glint. "Downstairs, huh? I could join you." His voice is low and suggestive, the bulge in his pants straining against the fabric as he takes a step closer.

“No.” You say with a playful smile and start walking downstairs and make your way to the kitchen.

He watches as you descend the stairs, the hem of your oversized shirt riding up to reveal more of your bare legs. He groans again, the sound low and needy in his throat. He follows you to the kitchen, his gaze never leaving your body.

“I thought I told you no.” You say grabbing a drink from the fridge.

"Ah, but I'm a persistent man, aren't I?" He steps closer, his large frame towering over you as he leans against the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. The bulge in his pants is undeniable now, a physical manifestation of his desire.

“Mh, shows.” You say in a slightly sarcastic way.

A smirk plays on his lips as he catches your sarcasm, but there's an undercurrent of challenge in his gaze. He straightens up and moves closer, backing you against the counter. "Is that a problem, sweetheart?"

“It’s a little bit annoying.” You say and start walking towards the living room.

He quickly catches up to you, his hand reaching out to grasp your wrist tightly and stop you from walking away. "I think we're not quite done here," he says, his voice low and commanding. He pulls you back towards him.

“Ugh what the hell is your problem?” You say annoyed.

“My problem?” he says with a slightly offended tone in his voice. He keeps a firm grip on your wrist, his fingers digging in just enough to convey his dominance. "My problem?" he repeats, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. "I think you know exactly what my problem is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say.

His eyes narrow slightly at your response and his grip on your wrist tightens slightly at your continued ignorance. His other hand reaches up to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Don't play games with me," he says in a rough tone. “My problem is that you’ve been trying to make me hard for the past 3 days.”

“No! You’ve tried to make me wet since you got here. So don’t start complaining about something you started.” You say frustrated.

He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh at your words, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "So I make you wet, huh?" He tilts his head, his eyes searching yours.

You roll your eyes and avoid eye contact. “I’m not answering that.”

"Oh, I think you just did," he says with a smirk.

“Ugh fuck you Matt.” You say and pull away from his grip. You walk towards the living and sit on the couch turning on the tv.

He watches you storm off with a smug grin, clearly amused by your flustered reaction. He follows you to the living room. He sits down next to you on the couch, much closer than necessary, his thigh brushing against yours. “Are you wet right now?”

You feel your panties getting wetter as he asks that. “No.”

He chuckles low in his throat, his hand coming to rest on your exposed thigh. His touch is warm and possessive, sending tingles up your spine. "So you would have a problem with me checking" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands moving slowly up.

You close your thighs. “Matt, stop.”

His smirk turns into a full-blown smile at your words and actions, clearly pleased with the effect he's having on you. He continues to tease you, his hand moving up to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Stop what? Checking if you're wet for me?"

“You wish I was,” you say, giving him a little bit of attitude.

"Oh, I know you are," he says with a chuckle, his hand sliding further up your thigh.

“I’m trying to watch a movie.” You say and pull his hand away.

He raises an eyebrow, his smirk only growing wider as he hears the slightly breathless quality to your voice. "Mhm, sure you are," he murmurs, his hand moving back to your thigh and forcing your legs open. “I'm just going to check if you’re wet or not.” His hand moved further up, since you’re without pants he quickly reached your pantie.

You gasp at his action and bite your lip holding back a whine as he teases your clit through your damp panties.

He smirks at your reaction but doesn’t say anything; he just pulls out his fingers and pretends like nothing happened. “Let’s watch your movie.”

You quietly sit there trying to pay attention to the movie.

He watches you attempt to focus on the movie, a knowing glint in his eye. Every so often, his gaze drifts down to your lap, no doubt recalling the feel of your wet panties between his fingers. He faces the tv again but his fingers start creeping to your thighs until they reach your panties. He doesn’t say anything, he just ‘pays attention’ to the movie. Two of his fingers start moving in circular motion.

You nearly gasp at his touch, you look over at him but he’s facing the tv. As his fingers start to move you can’t help but hold up your whines and moans.

He smirks but his expression never faces your direction, instead, he keeps eye contact with the screen. His fingers continue to move and rub against you harder.

Without thinking you spread your legs wider giving him more access.

He smirks wider as he hears the soft gasp torn from your lips. The feeling when he sees you spread your legs wider, his finger moving against your clit in slow circles.

You whine needing to feel more friction. So your hips unconsciously start grinding on his fingers.

He loves seeing you like this, vulnerable and needy. He chuckles low in his throat as he feels you grinding on his fingers. His free hand comes to rest on your inner thigh, applying gentle pressure to keep you open for him. He whispers near your ear “fucking slut” as you’re about to cum he pulls away his fingers.

You let out a whine at the loss of contact.

His smirk is triumphant as he watches your reaction, knowing he's left you wanting. He turns to face you, his eyes dark with desire. "You’re a fucking slut, admit it." His voice is low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

As vulnerable you are you still keep up with the attitude. “No. I’m not.”

He chuckles as he watches your squirm in need, the way you answer, keeping up with the attitude, hiding how needy you are for his touch. He knows it's a lie. “Yeah? You’re not?” He chuckles. “Like you didn’t just take my fingers without hesitation.”

He watches your expression carefully, waiting for you to back down from your defiance. When you remain silent, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "I could make you cum, right here, right now. All you have to do is admit it. Say the words, baby."

You look at him, your eyes filled with lust and desire. “Fuck… yes.” You say quietly.

He smirks, his lips curling up at your confession. "Yes, what?" His voice is soft yet demanding.

“Yes…I- I’m a slut.” You say in desperation for him to touch you.

He leans back in to whisper near your ear "That's right, you are." He watches your squirm under his gaze, his expression filled with satisfaction. His fingers move to your panties, teasing you as he spreads your wetness around. "Not just a slut, but my slut."

You whimper at his teasing. “Mh Matt please.”

He smirks as he hears your plea. "Please what, slut? Tell me exactly what you want." His fingers continue to tease your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you on the brink of climax.

“Please let me cum.” You whine.

"Ah, baby, you want to cum so bad, don't you?" His voice drips with seduction as he continues to torture your clit, his fingers expertly dancing around the sensitive spot. "Tell me, how much do you want it? How much do you need it?"

“Please Matt, I want to cum so bad.” You whimper.

Finally, Matt couldn't resist your begging and he pushes his fingers inside of you. He starts to finger you roughly while still rubbing your clit with his thumb. "Cum for me baby, cum all over my fingers." He orders as he feels you getting tense around his fingers.

“Mmmhp fuck” you moan.

He curses under his breath as he feels your walls tighten around his fingers, your moans becoming louder. He watches your face contorting in pleasure, feeling more satisfied with himself as he sees you getting closer to the edge.

“Mhh Matt I’m gonna cum” you moan feeling close.

He grins, his eyes flashing with excitement as he feels your impending orgasm. "That's it, baby, give it to me," he growls, finger-fucking you with abandon, his thumb pressing hard on your clit as he coaxes your climax from you. "Cum all over my fingers, slut,"

“Mmh fuck” you moan as you cum hard on his fingers.

"That's it, baby, let it out. So good, so fucking perfect," he praises, continuing to stroke you through your intense orgasm, prolonging the pleasure. As your spasms slowly subside, he pulls his fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to his lips. He sucks his fingers clean, a look of satisfaction on his face as he savors the taste of your cum. "Mmm, you taste so sweet, baby," he says, his eyes locked on yours, the connection between you crackling with energy.

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, sensual kiss. The taste of your essence lingers on his tongue, a delicious reminder of the pleasure he's given you. His hand trails down your side, tracing the curve of your waist as he pulls you closer.

You moan into the kiss and move to his lap strangling him.

Matt grunts as you straddle him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you press your body against his. He can feel the heat radiating from between your thighs, the evidence of your arousal soaking through his pants and leaving a wet spot on his lap.

He groans, his hands moving to cup your ass, pulling you in closer as he deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth, dancing with yours in a sensual rhythm. "You're so fucking wet for me, aren't you?" he breathes against your lips, his voice low and husky with desire. He's hard beneath you, his cock straining against his pants as he grinds against your core. "You want this, don't you?

You nod and keep kissing him letting out muffled moans.

"That's it, baby, show me how much you want it," he growls, his hands gripping your ass tightly as he grinds his hips up against yours. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, leaving marks.

Matt groans, his hands moving to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt. "You're so fucking sexy" he whispers huskily, his voice dripping with lust. He can't get enough of you, your moans driving him wild with desire. He pulls your top down, revealing your breasts. "Fuck, look at you,"

He trails his finger over your bare breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden beneath his touch. He then leans down to take them into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around them, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "You like that, baby?"

“Mhm” you moan and keep grinding against him.

"That's right, grind on my cock," he groans, his hands gripping your hips to meet your movements. He continues to suck and nibble on your nipples, his mouth hot and eager against your skin. "I can feel how much you want this, how much you need to be filled up."

He continues to grind against you, his cock throbbing in anticipation as he whispers dirty promises into your ear. "I'm going to make you scream my name, baby. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow."

“Please Matt” you whimper. He picks you up and takes you to his room.

He carries you to his bedroom, his lips still trailing hot kisses along your neck and collarbone. He lays you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. He trails his fingers down your body, stopping to circle over your nipples before continuing further south. "I need to taste you," he growls, his voice low and full of desire. He moves down between your legs, spreading them apart as he goes.

He buries his face between your thighs, his tongue delving into your slick heat as he devours you. He groans at the taste of your arousal, his fingers digging into your hips as he eats you out with wild abandon.

“Mmhf Fuck Matt” you moan as you arch your back.

His name is music to his ears as he doubles his efforts, his tongue thrusting deep into your pussy as he sucks on your clit. He can feel your walls fluttering around his tongue, your juices dripping down his chin as he feasts on your arousal.

"Fuck yes, baby, you taste amazing," he groans against your sensitive flesh, his words muffled but filled with desire. He continues his relentless assault on your clit, his tongue flicking and circling the swollen bud as he drives you closer to the edge.

“I’m so close” you moan.

He can hear the need in your voice and he knows you're close. He sucks harder on your clit, his fingers slipping inside you to fill the space his tongue leaves behind, thrusting deep and rubbing against the rough patch of skin on the roof of your pussy.

You let out a loud moan as you cum hard on his tongue.

"Yes, that's it, cum for me baby," he growls, his face buried between your thighs as he laps up every drop of your release. He keeps his tongue pressed against your spasming pussy, prolonging your orgasm and milking you of every last tremor.

He grins against your thighs, satisfied with the reaction he got from you. He slowly pulls his tongue and fingers out of you, savoring the lingering taste of your arousal and the slick feeling of your release on his skin. "You taste so fucking good, baby,”

He presses a tender kiss to your sensitive, still-quivering flesh before crawling up your body, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices. "I need to be inside you now," he growls, his cock hard and ready against your thigh.

“Mhm please Matt” you whine.

“Oh, baby, you're so wet and ready for me.” He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your opening. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with desire. "You want me to fuck you, baby? You want me to make you cum again?"

“Yes Matt please”

He smirks a little at your eager answer before thrusting himself inside you. He groans at the feeling of being surrounded by your tight heat, his cock slipping in easily thanks to how wet you are. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”

“Ahh Matt you’re so big” you whimper arching your back.

"I know, baby, and you feel amazing wrapped around me," he groans as he starts to move, pulling back slowly before thrusting in deep again. He sets a steady, relentless pace, each stroke hitting that special spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your walls flutter around his cock.

You moan loudly, your walls tightening more with each thrust.

"You like that, baby? You like me fucking you hard?" He grunts, leaning down to suck a mark onto your neck, just above your collarbone, his thrusts becoming rougher, his cock slamming into your cervix with each hit, with each thrust, his jaw clenched in effort as he tries to hold back his own orgasm.

“Mhhmp oh god Matt i'm going to cum” you moan pathetically as you feel that knot in your stomach about to explode.

"Cum for me, baby! I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you come undone," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic and forceful as he chases his own release. The base of his shaft pulses against your clit with each movement, providing additional stimulation that pushes you over the edge.

Your moans nearly come out as screams of pleasure as you squirt all over is cock.

"Fuck yes!" Matt groans loudly, nearly losing his balance as you squirt, the feeling nearly triggering his own release. His hips thrust frantically as he does his best to prolong the pleasure, the pulsing of his cock growing more and more erratic as he releases inside you.

"Mmmhhh... so fucking good..." He sighs as he collapses onto you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his still-throbbing cock buried deep inside you.

Your legs still shaking a bit from your orgasm when you hear sound coming from the hallway.

“Matt, Y/n where are you guys?” Nick asks.

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