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taestefully-in-luv · 1 year ago

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Summer Heat

Summary: You run into your ex Taehyung at a bar and go home with him just to keep hanging out. But perhaps Taehyung wants more. And so do you.

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: exes au, exes to lovers, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, dialogue heavy, communication, fingering, mention of oral, unprotected sex.

Notes: An exes to lovers Taehyung drabble request!!!! sorry it took so long...hope you enjoy anon! (and whoever else hehe)

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“Why did we break up?”

Did he ask that? Or did you? You aren’t sure who asked that. You just know that it’s been asked by one of you. The question floats in the air, the words growing bigger until they pop next to your ear. Your stomach stirs uncomfortably when the words echo a little, and finally, you realize it sounds a lot like your voice. You gulp.

“You don’t know?” Taehyung leans against the door frame, wood creaking before his arms cross over his chest. “If you don’t know then I definitely don’t know.” He suddenly smiles.

You’re wondering how you two ended up in his guest bedroom at his house. How you find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, a towel neatly folded in your lap as you wait for Taehyung to leave the room so you can shower. You glance at the dresser where his clothes lay on top, ready for you to borrow. Wearing his clothes is…

“Sorry.” You look down, “I shouldn’t have asked honestly.”

“Why not?” His voice is teasing.

You look up again, “Because we spent the whole night talking about how the past is the past and I don’t know, it just felt nice to hang out. I don’t want to ruin any,” You motion your hands in the space between you, “Like…vibe we got going on.”

Taehyung laughs, his back relaxing more against the wall. “It has been fun, right? Who would have thought I’d run into you tonight.”

“I can’t believe its six in the morning.” You glance towards the window, a dark blue sky beginning to light up. “Thanks again for letting me crash here.”

“I’m the one who insisted we stay up.” Taehyung stretches his neck, a small smile still on his face. “We had, what was it? 5? 6 years to catch up on?”

“Something like that.” You smile back, shrugging a little. “Lucky tomorrow is Saturday and we don’t have to work.”

Taehyung gazes at you, the softness in his eyes hard to miss. “I think I would have stayed up no matter the day of the week.”

Your stomach tightens, “Oh yeah?”

“So why did we break up?”

He asks this time. The question now echoing in his voice.

“I don’t know really.” You answer, “We weren’t ready?”

Taehyung separates his back from the door frame, his legs taking him to the end of the bed where he sits next to you. “We were young?”

“And not ready.” You emphasize this time. “Right person, wrong time.”

“So are you going to let me know when it’s the right time?” Taehyung asks you, his voice quieter as he looks ahead. “Because who knows, maybe it’s still right person.” His eyes slide towards you, curiosity sitting in them.

You can’t help but quietly gasp to yourself, his curious eyes sharpening the more he gazes at you. You’ve been wondering all night. You’ve been wondering if there’s still something between you, especially because something electric has been bringing you closer the past few hours. But you didn’t know if it was your imagination.

Taehyung’s gaze drops down to your hand that rests against the mattress. His eyes trail up your bare arm and it feels as if his fingertips are grazing your skin.

“You think we’re still a good match?” You breathe out your words, your eyes falling to Taehyung’s bottom lip. “Or do your interests only lie in getting laid tonight?”

Taehyung’s eyes grow round, shocked at first before he chuckles, “Can it be both?”

You bite back another smile. “Maybe.”

It’s been five and half years since you and Taehyung called things off—well, since you called things off. In your eyes, it really was right person, wrong time. You aren’t sure if Taehyung agreed at that time because you didn’t really give him the chance to. That still stings a little. Probably more for him than you but seeing how lighthearted he’s been all night, you guess he’s over it.

Are you over it?

You kind of have to be.

“I remember you being a really good kisser.” Taehyung’s fingers crawl over to yours, his skin warm as he subtly touches you.

You bite down onto your bottom lip, another smile forming. “So this is about getting laid tonight.”

“Not at all. But maybe a part of it.” Taehyung taps his fingers before weaving them through yours. Then he pulls back. “But if you don’t want to do anything…”

“Who said that?” You find his dark eyes, “I might just be teasing you.”

“You’ve always loved teasing me.”

“Maybe I still do?”

“So, some things haven’t changed.” He teases back, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if some things were still the same. There’s some things I’m hoping are very different though.”

“Like what?” You can’t help but ask, your hand sliding closer to his again.

“One, I hope you stopped being such a picky eater. And two, you let me have an opinion about us.”

You feel that sting. It shouldn’t be you who feels it but you do. “Us?”

“Yeah.” He hums, his fingers suddenly between yours again. He leans closer to you, “I want to decide things too.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Taehyung naturally grows closer to you, his body suddenly pushing up against your side when he leans down and presses his lips against your bare shoulder. “If I should be in your life or not.”

You slowly close your eyes when you feel his warm breath before he places a kiss on your shoulder. Then another. And another.

He continues, “Last time, you decided without me. This time I want a say.” Another kiss.

You feel your stomach turn upside down, his lips confusing you while his words make you feel guilty.

“Taehyung.” You say his name, your voice uncontrollably insecure. “Are we talking about this now?”

Another kiss. “No.”

You open your eyes, your back straightening when you feel his arm wrap around your waist. It feels good and familiar. Yet you aren’t sure how to react.

“Is it crazy to say I’ve missed you?” Taehyung sighs out, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “It is, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have thought about you so much in these last few years.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

Your stomach flops again, but this time you feel intrigued. “What did you miss? Me? Or my lips? My mouth? My—”

“—Can’t I say everything?” Taehyung lifts himself, his eyes urging you to look at him. He stays close. “I missed your overthinking too, believe it or not.”

Your lips curl at the thought, his teasing working. “Oh yeah?”

“But I missed your hugs the most. When we hugged earlier…I swear I wanted to give you me right then and there.”

“Your vodka sodas make you chatty, don’t they?”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckles, “You aren’t used to it, right?”

“Considering you didn’t drink when I knew you, no. But it was fun drinking with you tonight.”

“You got kind of chatty too.” Taehyung decides to create space between you both, his body suddenly laying back on the bed. “Never been in love with anyone else since me?” He sounds proud. “Feels like that should have taken longer to admit—”

You hit his thigh with your fist, embarrassment hot on your neck. “Shut up, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Also, it’s the truth and I can’t change it.”

You’re turned to eye him, but you quickly look away before laying down yourself. You keep your hands together, resting on top of your stomach.

“I’m not sure I’ve really been in love either. Maybe. Maybe not.” Taehyung tells you. “I’ve definitely thought about you over the years though.”

“Like what?”

“Your mouth—”

You hit his thigh again.

He laughs this time, “Okay, okay. Like for example, I saw someone eating skittles a few weeks ago and it reminded me of you. How you eat them all except the purple ones.”

“I still don’t eat the purple ones.”

“Great.” Taehyung huffs out dramatically, “You’re still picky.” He turns his head towards you and you do the same, meeting his eyes. Your stomach flops again when he smirks at you. “Somehow I missed that, too.”

“Liar,” You can’t help but laugh. “You—”

“We still click, you know?” Taehyung cuts you off, his gaze sharp again. “I’d like to hang out again. But not as friends or anything…as…I don’t know,” He turns his head, eyes on the ceiling while he smiles sheepishly. “I want to see if we can make this work. Possibly.”

“Vodka sodas make you so loose-lipped.”

“Thank God, too. I’m saying all the things I want to say so I’m thankful for it.”

“Well….” You turn your body towards him, lifting yourself on you elbow, “What else do you want to say?”

“You’re very pretty. And I want to kiss you.” Taehyung mirrors his body to yours. He looks confident as usual but you see the nerves in his eyes. “I’m not kissing anyone else at the moment, if you’re worried about that.”

“I wasn’t.” You weren’t.

Taehyung has never been known for being a player, or messing with more than one girl at a time. If he’s showing interest in you then you know you’re the only one.

“I’ve been single for like 8 months already.” He tells you, “So I’m clean, too.”

“I…yeah, it’s been a little while for me too.” You glance towards the open door, “But also, you sound real hopeful this is going to go in your favor.”

“Please.” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I know the way you’ve been looking at me all night. Catching up has been nice but there’s more going on here, right?”

He’s right.

“No.”

“Now you’re the liar,” Taehyung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But like I said, we don’t have to do anything. But I still want to see you again.”

You’re both sat up on your elbows, the distance small between you before you decide to be brave.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask.

Taehyung blinks at you for a moment, his dark eyes surprised.

“Just a kiss.” You assure him, your lips curling into a smirk. “One kiss.”

Taehyung holds his breath, seconds that feel like minutes pass. A small laugh finally leaves his mouth and his eyes fall to the bed. “Why am I suddenly nervous?” He admits. “As if I forgot how to kiss.”

“You were so confident earlier?” You tease him but you were positive you saw the nerves in his eyes and you were right.

“I think the vodka sodas helped and they’ve worn off at this exact moment.”

“How convenient.”

“It really is, isn’t it?”

You stare at Taehyung, his eyes going from yours to the mattress every few seconds before the strap of your tank top slides off your shoulder and his eyes glue to that extra inch of skin. It was a hot summer night, and a white tank top with some shorts is all the night called for.

You didn’t think you would run into Taehyung at a bar neither of you have been to. A night out with a couple of friends that happily ditched you to catch up with your ex.

“Why did we break up for real, y/n?” Taehyung’s eyes are back on yours. “I know but sometimes I doubt and question it.”

“Still?”

“You expect me not to?” He laughs a little but his voice is now the one that sounds uncontrollably insecure. “I was in love with you for so many years of my life. You were my best friend…”

You feel a sharp poke in your heart.

“I know.” You decide to sit up, your body slumping over a little. “I’m sorry.”

And you are. You’ve wanted to apologize for years.

“I know you’ve been sorry since the day we broke up.” Taehyung sits up too, his side pushed up against yours. Suddenly space isn’t necessary. “Don’t feel bad. I just want to hear you confirm your reason.”

You glance at Taehyung, eyes studying him. “I got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“That I didn’t know myself yet. That it would have been better if we were older…more mature. I should have just talked to you. But I thought you’d agree. I just…” You stop, ripping your eyes away from him. “Wanted to make it easier for both of us at that time.”

“Okay.” Taehyung nods to himself. “It wasn’t because you stopped loving me?”

“No.” You don’t find the courage to look at him yet. “I still loved you.”

Taehyung bumps into your shoulder with his and you hear the lightness in his voice again. “We’re older? More mature? You think we could look at one another the way we did before?”

You straighten your back again. “You really want to try this again?”

“I really want to kiss you at the least.” He sounds teasing once more. “But yeah, I’d love to continue getting to know you and see where this might lead.”

“I offered to kiss you already but you chickened out.” You bump into his shoulder now.

“I know.” He laughs, “But turns out I did want to have the conversation now. Kind of want to kiss you even more now because of it.”

“Then kiss me now, if you want.”

You’re older now. More mature now.

Yet you’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, towel still folded in your lap, eyes on the floor and nerves surrounding you both.

Taehyung’s breath leaves his mouth in a warm puff and you feel it glide over your bare thighs. His nerves make you brave. You grasp the towel in your hands before placing it next to you and you turn your head towards the man you used to love.

He mirrors you, eyes still unsure.

“You’re cute.” You murmur. “And—”

Taehyung leans in closer, his eyes stuck on your lips. “It’s okay, right?”

You nod.

The warm breath you felt on your thighs now lingers over your lips. It makes you stop breathing.

He comes closer, his hand softly landing on your lower back, fingers slowly digging into your tank top as he grows closer and finally, you feel the skin of his lips touch yours in a kiss that becomes firmer the longer he stays. His kiss is so familiar that it will haunt you later.

Taehyung detaches for only a moment, catching his breath before he leans in again more confidently and you finally give him a response. Your lips slowly moving over his as you kiss him back, your hands sliding up his chest. So familiar. His tongue pokes out and you open your mouth just the slightest to grant his wish. You taste him now, and it’s also hauntingly familiar.

You feel your lower belly swirling and swirling, a tension growing between your legs and it makes you ache. You wish a few kisses didn’t make you this desperate already but when Taehyung feels your fingers slide up into his hair, he knows you desire more.

His tongue explores more freely and you moan into his mouth, the sound quiet and soft but it creates a stirring in Taehyung’s pants. He can feel himself grow harder. So, he kisses you harder.

You break away for a moment, lips wet and tingly. “You have a condom?”

“Already?” He asks, breathless. “Let me at least eat you out first.”

“I haven’t showered yet.” Your eyes slide to the side, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t care.”

“I care.”

His hands go to your shorts, fingers fiddling with the button. “Fingers?”

You think about it for a second, thighs squeezing together at the idea. “Okay.”

And his fingers are quick to undo the button on your shorts, and he pulls down the zipper. You quickly wiggle out of them, kicking them off of you, while they land somewhere on the floor.

“Cute underwear.” He tickles the skin above the band with his fingers, before they slide lower and you gasp. He begins rubbing them over where you ache. Your panties grow damper and damper, making it easy for him to move your underwear to the side, and his fingers dive into your wetness.

“Ah, Taehyung…” You become tense. Teeth digging into your bottom lip. “I—”

His fingers swirl over your clit, making you sigh out in content. They play here before he uses his middle finger to dive where you really want him. Finger massaging your entrance, before he adds another. Entering you, making you immediately relax once the moment you’ve been anticipating is over. He works to stretch you out, his eyes focused on yours, his tongue wetting his lips as he watches how you start to fall into a daze.

His fingers feel so good. They’re long and reaching the right places. He curls them, making you whine, head falling to his shoulder and he chuckles.

“Feel good?” He whispers, fingers working harder and all you hear is how they fuck into you.

You nod against his shoulder, a breathy laugh leaving your lips.

“I want you…” You admit, “Now.”

His fingers stop moving, his head suddenly nodding quickly and he slides them out. “Yeah.”

Taehyung brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them proudly and you don’t have it in you to tell him to stop. He wanted your familiar flavor. So, it can haunt him later too.

You stand, eyes on him as you take your tank top off. He stands too, helping you take off your bra and his eyes are glued to your chest, clouding over with lust. You reach for the bottom of his shirt and he helps you take it off his body. Shorts and boxers are next. You stare at his cock, the head of it throbbing and you feel your mouth water. Another time, you tell yourself.

You finally slip off your underwear and you stand here, gazing at one another and you both become dizzy.

“You’re so beautiful.” He tells you, hands reaching for your hips and he guides you to the bed again, laying you down. “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

“Me too.” You tell him, breathless and heated.

Taehyung crawls over your body and you feel how he moves his cock to enter you, moving slowly until he’s snug between your legs. You both sigh. Your walls tightening around him. He feels so good. And so familiar. He pushes himself further into you, your legs wrapping around his waist until you gasp to yourself, eyes shutting in contentment.

“You feel…” You can’t finish your sentence.

“Yeah.” He agrees, sliding out of you before thrusting back in. He repeats this motion a few, slow times. Letting his cock get soaked and pulled into your sweet core. He can’t remember the last time he felt this entranced. Maybe it was with you.

He starts fucking into you, the repeated motions are smooth and calculated. He’s trying his best to fuck you at the angle that is going to make you whimper. And he finally finds it. He moans into your neck, his hot breath making your skin moist. He starts kissing your throat.

You feel yourself growing tighter and tighter the more he firmly pushes in. You’re going to cum.

Taehyung starts thrusting faster, his kisses growing sloppy and he forces himself to slow down, his body trembling above yours. Oh, he’s really close.

“You’re so pretty…” He moans, his thrusts getting harder. “I fucking missed you, your pussy…everything.”

“Taehyung…” You wrap your arms around him, nails clawing at his back. “Fuck, just like that…I’ll cum.”

“Yeah. I know.” He smirks against your neck before he lifts his head and locks eyes with you. “Let’s cum together, y/n. Fuck,” His pace grows faster and you feel your insides crumble. He feels too good.

“I’m gonna—” You choke on air when he thrusts particularly hard, pushing into you so deep it makes your stomach tighten. He fucks you so deep you wonder how you could go without this any longer.

“y/n.” He chants your name, head falling into your neck again, whining against your skin and that’s all it takes for the band inside you to snap. You feel warmth gushing around his cock, dribbling out of you as you cum all around him and his hips thrust forward a few more times before he releases every drop of cum he can offer inside you.

Your body becomes limp, legs falling from his waist as you catch your breath, silently laughing as the euphoria continues to overtake you. Taehyung laughs too, breathing heavily above you, his eyes shining with happiness. You can’t miss it.

“We forgot the condom.” He tells you.

“I know.” You bite your lip, hiding another smile. You aren’t worried since you’re on birth control. “Maybe you can shower with me?”

He leans down to kiss you, smile all over his face. “Okay, and then I’m eating you out.”

#bts #bts smut #Kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #bts fics #taehyung fic #Drabble requests #taehyung x reader #taehyung drabble #bts drabble

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wisps-writes-fic · 14 days ago

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Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Request by @roriannesmoon: “Something something Dr. Robby thinks you’ve been a very bad girl and need to be punished with his [REDACTED]…👀👀👀”

CW: Overstimulation, Praise Kink, DDLG Vibes

AN: Not for everyone, I know, but my bestie gets what my bestie wants. 😉

Really hope this comes across as x reader fic, because I’m still not entirely convinced in my ability to write it. You will also probably never see me attempt to write it again. Like I said, my bestie gets her wishes.

~~~~~

You never thought he would find out. Most of the rules were simple. Reasonable, even. A list of things designed to help you keep a steady routine. Boxes to check on the days taking care of yourself felt like a chore more than a basic part of the day.

A few of those rules, though, had been designed with his fun in mind. Like the one that was supposed to keep you from touching yourself without him there. A slow-burning torture when you’re sure most men couldn’t care less when and how their partner found pleasure in the time they were alone.

Surely it couldn’t be a major offense. The man was concerned with your health above all else, and wouldn’t handling your own pleasure in his absence play a role in that? Convinced with that line of thought, it was easier then to slip your hand between your legs, imagining thicker, rougher fingers in place of yours.

One hand teased your clit while the other dragged higher, tracing slow circles around your exposed nipple.

“Now, what’s this?” You froze, the lilt of amusement in Robby’s voice your only consolation at being caught. “Couldn’t wait for me?” he asked, bracing one knee against the mattress before lowering his towering figure over yours. “We have rules for a reason. I didn’t think they’d be difficult to follow.”

“Robby—”

“How many times? And don’t even think about lying, little girl.”

"Just tonight." He raised a brow, clearly skeptical. "I promise. I really haven't."

The silence dragged on, every second an individual torment. "Alright," he said finally. "You're lucky you're a bad liar. Might not take your word so quickly, otherwise." The tension eased, but only for a moment. "That said… rules are rules, honey." A shudder rolled down your spine at the promise there. The threat. Robby stood straight again, peeling out of his hoodie and scrubs before gripping the tops of your thighs to pull you further down the bed. “So needy you couldn’t think about the consequences coming your way? Thought I’d see you stretched out so pretty and forget your disobedience? Forgive it? Was that it, little girl?”

“Robby—”

His tongue flicked over your inner thigh, the slightest warning before his teeth pinched down just hard enough to leave an imprint. A wave of heat flushed your body. “You know better than that. So what have you earned yourself?”

“I’m sorry.”

He hummed, kissing a path upwards until you were eye to eye. “Maybe I give you just what you want, hm? Fill up this sweet little cunt, make my needy girl come until she’s begging me to stop.” His hand threaded through your hair, his searing kiss inescapable. Though hardly a distraction from those fingers you’d imagined earlier finally working their way in to stretch you open. “That’s what my baby needs, isn’t it?”

“Robby, please,” you panted out between kisses.

He normally took more care in making sure you were ready to take him, but this was a punishment, after all. And despite making it home on time, you could read the long shift in every part of him. The clench of his jaw, the coiled muscles keeping him steady above you. The husk of his voice, thickening with each filthy question and promise. Breaking his rule about masturbating—earning a punishment—was just the outlet for the inevitable.

Part of you needed it too. Needed the burn that came with Robby carving out his place inside of you. In and in and in until he was buried to the hilt, hips pressing your thighs wide, those calloused fingers marking you as he held you down to take each brutal thrust.

“You know what I want, honey.”

“I want to hear you.” That had been what he said the first time you were together, months ago. “I want to hear you when you come for me, honey.”

There was no stopping the little whine of protest, knowing what was coming. He’d read how close you were, kept his punishing pace with no sign of his own release nearing. But he’d already made it clear how it would end. What state you’d be in before the leasson was considered learned. His bruising grip around one thigh fell away, his thumb working relentless circles over your sensative clit until the first wave took you, stealing the breath from your lungs. “Good girl,” he growled, pushing you through it, rather than easing you down.

“You’re gonna give me another.”

Back to back it would be too much. He knew that. And he didn’t care. Didn’t care because this was a punishment. One well deserved in his mind, you knew. You screamed the next time he pushed you over. “One more time.”

Trembling beneath him, you were frantic in your denial. It would hurt, even if his pace had eased slightly. “Please. I can’t.”

“One more, sweet girl,” he soothed, wiping a tear from your cheek. “One more and you can rest.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, baby.” His voice was a little more strained, thrusts finally loosing rhythm. “One more.” Something snapped then, driving you into a dizzying climax, the instinctive clenching finally dragging Robby with you. “Fuck,” he cursed, one hand fisting the sheets above your head.

It took an eternity to come out of the spiral he’d sent you into, the soft murmur of his name still all that could be managed. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He rolled onto his back, holding you tight to his chest. “My good girl. My perfect girl.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Shh. Lesson learned, little one. Lesson learned.”

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #michael robby robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt drabbles #drabble requests

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stanpinesdykewife · 8 months ago

Note

How do you feel about breeding kink ? Kinda a request for Stan/reader haha

HELLO thanks for sending this in! so i've never been a big breeder (breeding kink enjoyer) but you and several others are really into it so i finally gave it a shot!!! enjoy! and check out my friend's breeding kink fic at the bottom if you're into this :) under the cut:

knock knock stan/reader (fem!reader) (unless you're me and can ignore the gender implications of "mommy") pre/during/post-canon/unspecified smut, 1954 words (bonus: fic rec at the bottom)

It starts out like the normal, mostly-vanilla sex you usually have with Stan.

You two go out, get tipsy, come home, and make it through approximately half an episode of your joint show before slipping into a sloppy makeout. It's not exactly routine, but it's expected, and it's a hit for a reason. Sex with Stan is good, full stop. Which is why you’re always surprised when something new comes along that makes it even better.

“Hngh—Fuck,” you choke out, your voice catching behind your teeth as Stan sinks into you. You're on your back, staring with bleary eyes at the sight of Stan's flushed face above you. He's sitting on his heels with your ankles on his shoulders, his hands holding firmly at your plush hips as he grinds into you. “Fuck. God, please.”

“Told you you'd have to beg for it this time, didn't I?” Stan chuckles, stroking over your soft skin with his thumbs. He sounds gentle, but he's grinding into you hard, enough that each forward roll of his hips has your whole body rocking with it. He'd been fucking you so hard earlier, so good, but he does this thing sometimes—he stops altogether to get you talking. He loves when you talk to him. “Go on, then, sweetheart. You want it, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, stuttering at another press of his dick into you. You gasp when he pulls back, drawing out only halfway before grinding in again. Your voice is wobbly when you say, “Yes, yeah. I want it, please fuck me, oh, fuck—I wanna come. Wanna make you come in me.”

You know, even through the haze in your mind and the growing blush on Stan's face, that that's a normal thing for you to say. It never gets old, and it's never untrue. Asking Stan to come in you always feels really fucking good. You're having a really good night.

“I know, baby. You want me to fill you up,” Stan says, full-on smiling down at you. His eyes are warm and a little unfocused as he draws out again, then pushes in, keeping that same romantic rhythm he's had since slowing down. His voice is low, almost drowsy, when he adds, “You want it to stay there, too? Want it to take?”

“Wh—Huh?” you ask, your mind a little preoccupied to register all the words coming out of his mouth. You're a little too busy staring at him, at his dark eyes, his crooked grin, then lower, to the hair on his chest leading down to his belly. Stan huffs out a good-natured laugh at your obvious spacing out.

“You always ask me to come inside.” When your gaze finally wanders back up to his, he's already staring at you. Stan chuckles again and adjusts his grip on your body, unintentionally hiking your hips up a little. He clarifies, “It's almost like you want me to knock you up.”

Your jaw drops open at that. A new wave of heat curls in your abdomen, making your fingers twitch, and your legs suddenly tense. Stan was half-joking, you know he was, but it's too late to pitch him a laugh and play into it. His brows raise, and you can practically see the gears turn in his head when you blink at him in mild shock.

Then the light bulb clicks on, and Stan's expression brightens in the way it always does when he learns something new about your body. Despite yourself, you smile, too, a flustered giggle bouncing from your throat when you realize he's about to pounce.

“W-Wait, I didn't—” You have no clue what excuse you were going to give to clear your name of a kink you didn't even know you had, but Stan interrupts you so you don't have to find out. You squeal when he suddenly grabs you by the thighs and adjusts your body, manhandling you into a new position. “Stan—!”

“You like that, huh,” he snickers, not unkind, as he shuffles himself up onto his knees without pulling out. One of your legs almost falls off his shoulders, but Stan quickly corrects it before snatching a pillow from your left and shoving it under your hips. He leans forward slightly, asking you again, “You want me to knock you up?”

Before you can answer, Stan gives you the first proper thrust he's given you in a while. Your back arches as you moan, your hips automatically rocking up into his as he starts a steady pace. Your hands grip the sheets, and you try to stave off the mild embarrassment in your chest. You try to welcome the excitement instead, growing warm in your stomach, making you tremble.

“That's right, honey. Feels good, don't it? Gonna put a baby in you.” The humor in Stan's voice fades slowly, overtaken by his little grunts as he fucks into you. You moan at one particular angle, Stan's dick pressing perfectly up against that spot in your pussy that makes your legs shake, and Stan chases it. He leans forward, over you, making your voice pitch higher and higher. He groans, “Fuck, so wet. You're all nice and warm for me, sugar. Perfect for my spunk.”

“Ugh, don't—ah—call it that,” you huff out, voice cracking in the middle as Stan picks up speed.

“Whaddya want me to call it?” he laughs. “My come? My kids?”

“Fuck,” you moan, like the breath's been punched out of you. Stan's hips stutter, and something in the air shifts. He groans, leans forward more, and soon your body is bent deeply at the waist with your legs hooked over his shoulders, your knees close to your chest. You don't know what this position is called. A breeding press? A mating press? The specifics are lost on you as you open your eyes, blinking up at Stan's handsome, flushed face.

He’s breathing deeply above you, his hot breath mingling with yours as he plants his hands on either side of you. Stan’s been teasing you all this time, but all of a sudden it doesn't feel so lighthearted anymore. Stan pauses when you meet his eyes. Shifts his weight on his knees.

“C-Can…” You swallow around the words. You're fucking salivating. You look at Stan shyly, through your lashes, and find the courage to ask, “Can you please put your kids in me?”

“Holy Moses,” Stan says, and then he's kissing you, all sloppy and heated and so fucking turned-on. You moan into his mouth when he starts pumping into you again, fucking his hips down into yours, and this angle is so fucking good you can't believe you've never tried it with him before, holy fuck. Stan is so deep inside you, pistoning his hips so hard he's fucking you right into the mattress with each thrust.

“Ah, ah, fuck, yes—” you gasp, breaking the kiss. Stan groans against your open mouth before pulling away, his eyes screwed shut as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he grunts, shifting so his forearms are caging your head, holding up his weight. “Gonna fucking fill you up, gonna make you have my fucking kids—Fuck, I'm already close.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you whine, voice strained as you reach up to grab hold of something, anything, to keep you grounded. You feel like you're floating, so warm and dizzy at the thought of Stan filling you to the brim, and your hands somehow find their way up into Stan's hair. He groans again when you tug, and gives you a particularly rough thrust that makes you gasp. “Ah, shit—! Yes, I want it, want you to come in me, fill me up—”

“Yeah, just take my fucking load, baby, just take it,” he breathes, somehow much more intelligible than you are even as his hips start fucking into you unevenly, losing their rhythm. But Stan's thrusts get harder, his dick reaching deeper into your ready cunt, so deep you swear you can feel his precome leaking into your cervix, or maybe the thought of it is just so good that you're making shit up. But you snap back to reality at Stan mutters, his voice gruff, “Gonna come so deep in you, sweetheart—Hah, fuck, that's—Gonna make you a fuckin' mommy.”

You're coming, an intense orgasm rolling through you and forcing one loud, drawn-out moan from deep in your throat as Stan fucks into you with a few more frantic thrusts. You're gasping, cursing when you can spare the breath, and then you're whining high in your throat as Stan presses as deep as he can fucking go. His voice catches for a moment. Then he groans, long and loud, right into your face as he comes deep in you. It's so hot, literally, you can feel the heat blooming in your fucking cunt, can feel the way his thick dick twitches with its release.

“Fuck—Fuck,” Stan swears, shifting again so he can slide one hand to your hip. He hikes it up and shuffles closer on his knees, sighing once his lungs have the capacity. You're still catching your breath, still dizzy with warmth and post-orgasmic bliss as you think of that pocket of come being plugged inside you by Stan's softening dick. Stan breathes deeply in, then out. He’s still riding the tail end of his orgasm when he murmurs, “You okay?”

“Mm. Yeah,” you manage, carefully unwinding your fingers from his hair. When Stan can lift his head to look at you, his face is red with exertion. There's some drool slipping out the corner of his mouth, and you try a smile. “You?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he sounds distracted. He studies your features, reading your expression, and whatever you managed of a half-smile drops.

“What?” you ask. But then Stan nudges his hips back, just an inch, and slowly presses into you again. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands flying to his shoulders to grip him there. “What are you—Ah, ah, fuck.”

You feel exactly what he does. Stan's come is slick in you, it always is, but the new connotations add so much to the warm, wet pool within your body. Stan grinds into you, getting your thighs and his abdomen slick with your come, then pulls out again. When he pushes back in, you both moan at how fucking easy it is. There's no resistance. His come is sticking the way, making it easier for him to fuck you.

Stan is still breathing deep, but another smile plays on his lips. He’s close enough that he only has to tilt his head slightly to kiss you, but it's chaste nonetheless. His grin is bright and affectionate. But it isn't quite innocent.

“You wanna try for another?” he chuckles, his hand smoothing over your skin to dip between your bodies, to press gently, reverently against your stomach. You jolt at the touch, but eventually your hips start rocking into him. Stan doesn't move. You're intoxicated by the thought of him keeping you like this, pinned beneath him, full of his come and plugged by his dick as he brings you to the edge with his fingers.

“Ah, shit—Fuck. Yeah,” you say, the corners of your mouth rising up to match Stan's grin. You play along easier this time. “Yeah. Please. As many times as it takes, right?”

“Gotta knock you up somehow,” Stan says, keeping eye contact with you, his voice oozing with affection. You chuckle at him. What a softie. Then his fingers press a little harder on your stomach, then dip lower, lower, to really touch you, and your mouth drops into a moan instead. “Gonna be such a good mommy.”

You're having a great night.

(inspo from Family Planning by burberryali, which dropped super recently and helped a lot while i learned to write this!!! if you like breeding and fluff and stan in general... which i know you do... this fic is for you! show it some love!!)

#first smut i wrote in a while that i'm happy with!#thanks so much for reading teehee #as someone without a breeding kink i hope this is good #please lmk what you think...#and leave a comment on burberryali's fic!!!#smut #drabble requests #my writing #fic recs #gravity falls #stanley pines x reader #reader insert

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absurddino · 13 days ago

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can you do the pet names prompt for Steve x Eddie x Billy please 😔❤️

I'm not sure how much I like this but I hope you're catching my vibe 😭🫶🫶

Send me drabble requests here!

Eddie knows that both him and Billy have the tendency to use pet names like armour. They float from their lips like spilled wine and nobody bats an eye. It's what they've always done, even when they weren't yet dating.

They're both comfortable with it. Unflinching, even when the nicknames turn from weird to weirder or from sexy to plain kinky. Only to each other, though.

Eddie knows he can call Billy a bitch lovingly, and he'll get called a freak in return. They don't mind. It's just another language only they understand. And when bitch turns into daddy, or freak turns into kitten, all they can do is raise their eyebrows (and try not to laugh).

It's different with Steve, though.

Steve had, for the first three months of their relationship, turned red after each and every time one of them called him something other than 'Steve' or 'Harrington'. The first time Eddie threw in a 'big boy', he'd covered his face for nearly five minutes before regaining his composure.

He's better at it now. He blushes at them, sure, but it's a natural thing. Billy will call him sweetheart and Eddie will call him baby and he's happy with that.

Steve never calls them anything other than their names, though. Not until one day Billy comes home from work and he says, "Hey, baby." He's distracted reading the newspaper, glasses perched atop his nose.

Eddie is sitting next to him on the couch and has a front seat to the way Billy reacts. He drops his keys and stares wide eyed and red faced at Steve.

Eddie bursts out laughing and only then does Steve look up from the paper. "What?" he asks, but Eddie waves him off. This will just be a little secret between him and Billy.

And Steve doesn't mention it. Doesn't say anything like it again.

Well, not until a few weeks later.

"Hey, babe, can you get me a bandaid? I nicked my finger," Eddie calls to him one day while he's cutting some vegetables. He hears Steve rummage around their bathroom, emerging with a bandaid.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Steve says. Eddie promptly chokes on his spit.

#metalsandwich #steve harrington #eddie munson #billy hargrove #stranger things #harringroveson #steve x eddie x billy #🖊️#drabble requests

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eliteseven · 3 months ago

Text

BG3 Drabble Request: Drunk Tav

Pairing: Shadowheart x (named)F!Tav

Summary: After drinking with (and defeating) Thisobald Thorm, an inebriated Tav returns to camp and shares a few intimate moments with Shadowheart as she cares for her.

Tags: Romance, fluff, humor, angst

Words: 4.7k

Original request below:

For NLS, I've always been impressed with Tav being able to hold her alcohol when drinking with Thisobald (If you pass the checks) but what If she got him but got absolutely smashed in the process then started to have a fun and honest conversation with Shadowheart or your take on a very drunk Tav around Last Light Inn; just something that occurs to me every time I go through this part of the game. Thanks ?

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“Easy, soldier.” Karlach gently lets Tav down from where she’s supporting her shoulder, allowing her to walk on her own fully.

They’ve just made it back to camp after a run in with none other than Thisobald Thorm, in the depths of the Waning Moon brewery.

In fairness, Serena held her own.

Really.

She’s no stranger to drinking, and while imbibing is certainly part of any seasoned soldier’s skillset, that foul liquid has finally taken effect, with considerable delay.

Drinking an undead entity to death is certainly a new victory that she can add to her ever growing list of oddities masked as accomplishments.

It kicked in about two thirds of the walk to camp, to be exact, when Serena began to sway with each and every step forward.

Karlach, bless her, noticed immediately- it was hard not to, when Serena nearly walked right into her chest while trying to keep their line single file.

“M’fine.” Serena hums happily as she claps her hands together rather slowly, and then pats Karlach on the back several times, for her efforts. “Thankyou, Karlach.” She slurs slightly, and covers her mouth before she hiccups.

Karlach grins. “Any time. Looks like it’s just getting to the good part.” She advises. “Any grand plans for the evening, Tav?”

Serena looks deep in thought for a moment, and Karlach smirks, wondering just what her response will be.

After a passing minute, Karlach realizes that there won’t be a response- Serena’s already dazed out, in the direction of a purple and black tent, with gold embroidery.

Karlach’s smirk only deepens. “....I have a feeling I already know.”

“Yes, let Shadowheart deal with her nonsense.” Astarion sniffs from behind them as he does away with his armor.

“Heart.” Serena smiles at the name, murmuring it to herself as she sets off mindlessly towards the tent, forgetting entirely about Karlach, Astarion, Thisobald Thorm, foul liquor, and most anything else.

“Should we stop her?” Wyll muses from somewhere behind Serena, slowly taking off his armor piece by piece, as well.

“...nah.” Karlach shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

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Serena falls into Shadowheart’s tent.

She doesn’t intend to- it’s really more of a stumble, anyway, but she ends up going right through the flaps and very luckily- into Shadowheart’s lap.

“What in the nine hells do you think you’re- Tav?” Shadowheart blinks as she freezes, prayers interrupted, knelt in the middle of her tent, and now supporting the weight of her…person.

(She and Serena haven’t exactly solidified their relationship, Lady Shar wouldn’t approve, but it’s no secret the two are entirely enamored with each other).

“Hello, Heart.” Serena mumbles the words rather gracelessly, but incredibly fondly, and she gathers herself with less elegance than she normally would as she takes her weight off her.

“And just where have you been?” Shadowheart lifts a manicured brow to accent the inquiry. “You…what’s that smell?”

“Beer…arguably. And innards...” Serena informs her, tilting her head in a curious fashion, similar to the way Scratch does. The slow flutter of her lashes as she takes in Shadowheart’s face in the candlelight says it all: Serena is inebriated.

And not with any old beer, by the looks of it.

“...Should I even ask how? Or why, for that matter?” Shadowheart pinches the bridge of her nose as Serena studies her lips intently, her question nearly forgotten.

“Thiso-”, hiccup, “-bald Thorm. Then he perished.” Serena adds with a frown. “...All over me.” She pouts, as if it’s simply a minor inconvenience, and she isn’t wearing his remains.

Shadowheart just blinks.

After all, why would she expect anything even resembling normalcy, with this group?

“...Naturally.” Shadowheart mumbles finally, taking in Serena’s state. “You need to bathe, Tav.”

“...Naturally.” Serena mocks, slowly turning the word over a clumsy tongue, and Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but it’s curious, seeing her so…helpless. Everything seems to amuse her, and she bears none of the usual anxiety she normally does in such close proximity to Shadowheart.

“Do the others know you’re…” Shadowheart waves her hand, narrowing her eyes. Someone had to have brought her back to camp; she hardly looks capable of navigating in her state.

“Yes! …Karlach carried me.” Serena grins. “So warm.” her head lolls backwards as she stares at the dark peak of the tent, mind clearly drifting elsewhere.

“I can imagine.” Shadowheart snorts. “I’ve feigned an injury or two for a ride on those shoulders.”

“And I pretend to have injuries so you’ll touch me.” Serena admits with a snort of laughter; she finds this endlessly amusing once more, and she giggles softly.

“Oh.”

Shadowheart freezes; she’s unsure which to address first- Serena’s egregious statement about feigning injury for more of her touch (egregious only because she and Shadowheart have been sharing a bedroll more often than not), or the fact that Serena’s giggle is so sweet and innocent, and she’s never heard it before.

Serena is clearly a happy drunk, and Shadowheart finds the corner of her lip twitching upwards anyway, despite the state she finds her lover in.

Serena looks younger, somehow, smiling to herself in the darkness. The furrow lines on her brow are not present, nor the lines that set in when she scowls from the near constant stress of shouldering the group’s various strifes.

She looks positively unbothered by her own admission, though Shadowheart just knows she’ll be mortified if she remembers any of this tomorrow.

“And you came to me?” Shadowheart murmurs, this time, there is less edge to her tone.

“Well…you didn’t accompany us today.” Serena frowns. “You haven’t, lately. It’s awful. Gale doesn’t look nearly as pretty in armor.” It sounds like a cute quip, but Serena’s gaze belies the fact that she’s being deadly serious.

Shadowheart snorts out a laugh, caught off-guard. Her cheeks burn with a blush that Tav cannot see, and she’s all the happier for it. “Is that all you get from my company?” Her tone is airy, teasing and light.

Serena frowns at the statement. She opens her mouth to protest vehemently, but hiccups again, sighing deeply.

“...Charming.” Shadowheart deadpans.

“You never come anymore.” Serena sighs, rubbing her temples as if she’s dealing with a matter of life and death.

“My lady demands that I focus my efforts on-”

“-Ah, yes, your lady…” Serena drawls, and it’s abundantly clear she’s mocking Shadowheart.

Shadowheart scowls at the obvious show of heresy and disrespect. Serena usually has more tact, when referring to Lady Shar in any capacity in front of Shadowheart.

“Watch yourself.” Shadowheart grits. “Just because we’ve built a rapport, it doesn’t mean I’ll take lightly to your transgressions.”

Serena blinks, and Shadowheart realizes she’s not at all present. Shadowheart sighs; it isn’t worth the fight- not when Serena hasn’t an inkling of what she’s saying. She should know better than to argue with someone so clearly intoxicated.

“I’ve missed you, that's all.” Serena mumbles, more in the way of a dejected child than a lover scorned, and Shadowheart’s lip trembles slightly at the honest admission.

She’s missed Tav, too.

She can’t succumb to her feelings- she can’t let Serena crumble walls she’s put up for the better part of her training.

So Shadowheart does what she does best, and deflects Serena’s attention away from any hope of having a truly intimate conversation.

“And here I thought soldiers could drink with the best of us.” Shadowheart remarks dryly instead, despite how her heart still pounds at Serena’s admission.

Serena shrugs helplessly. “I think…” She drawls, licking her lips. “I think…I drank poison.” She tastes the words on her tongue, shaking her head. “It glowed.” she smiles at the word, remembering the way the residue would shine off the side of the tankard.

“...just what we needed.” Shadowheart mutters, and she swears, she’ll have words with whoever allowed Serena to undergo such an idiotic series of events. They need her at her best, not slurring over every word and laughing at nothing at all. “Now, go and bathe.” She demands, thrusting a spare cloth and towel into Serena’s hands from her storage trunk.

“...It’s cold.” Serena whimpers, and Shadowheart is inclined to agree; it’s freezing, and the state of the Shadow-Cursed Lands does little to help the fact, devoid of light and wrapped in a never-ending blanket of night as it is.

“You’ve Thorm-innards on you.” Shadowheart points out, lip curling in disgust.

Serena laughs, a pretty, melodic sound that has Shadowheart reeling for a few seconds afterwards.

Shadowheart’s eyes narrow and she rests a hand on her hip. “You find this funny?”

Serena only laughs harder, dabbing at a tear forming in the corner of her eye, swaying slightly in her laughter. “Yes!” She heaves. “I even wore my best oils for you, this morning.” She throws her hands up at the hilarity of it all- but in truth, she chooses everything based on Shadowheart’s reactions. “And now…” She looks at the mess upon her armor and sighs, letting out a few errant laughs, still. “Blood. As usual. It’s always blood.”

Shadowheart has often secretly admired Serena’s meticulous attention to her appearance.

Her clothing (what she can scrummage from their travels, at any rate), her hair, down to which scented oil she uses after bathing- (Shadowheart prefers the jasmine scented vial, she’s noticed).

She tries, despite the mess they find themselves in the middle of, to impress Shadowheart.

Shadowheart doesn’t know whether it’s sweet or foolish, but she finds her heart tripping over itself at the gesture alone.

She wonders if she was ever the object of someone’s affections like this- let alone someone so sweet. If she was, she certainly can’t remember them now.

“...Perhaps I can help you clean up.” Shadowheart murmurs gently. She glances at Serena’s elated gaze, and shakes her head. “-after all, I wouldn’t want you to drown.”

:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

They find themselves in a secluded corner of camp, where the sandy banks meet the surrounding lake, and its placid sheet of darkness. There are no stars in the evening sky- the moon does not grace them with its glassy reflection above the still water.

Shadowheart wonders why the darkness does not calm her as it should- Shar gives her a painful lashing for the thought, and she quickly drops it.

She should be at home here in the constant night, comfortable in the depths of the murky black water.

Shadowheart seats herself atop a rock, a safe distance away from the water. She much prefers bathing beneath the waterfall, on solid land. The shore steeply declines after several steps, and her fear of swimming prevents her from taking that risk.

Serena, however, doesn’t seem to mind as she strips away the last of her tainted clothes, shivering in the relative darkness.

About mid-way through removing her tunic, she pauses, glancing at Shadowheart bashfully, as if suddenly remembering her presence.

“...Go on, then.” Shadowheart nudges her with a few soft words.

Still, her breath catches in her throat when her eyes fall upon Serena’s bare and muscled back, bearing several scars from her time in Cormyr’s military. Shadowheart’s eyes drop to a shapely rear as Serena nearly trips over herself trying to take off her trousers and remaining undergarments.

Shadowheart has to give her credit; she hadn’t realized how poised Serena typically is. She carries herself with all the regality one might come to expect from a former Patriar, but with none of the entitlement, stripped away from her time at war.

Drunk Serena carries none of these qualities; Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but she finds it strangely endearing.

“You’re staring.” Serena slurs slightly.

Shadowheart lifts a brow. So she still has some of her wits about her.

“You’re shivering.” Shadowheart counters.

"...do you like what you-"

“Yes." Shadowheart pinches the bridge of her nose, hoping it will finally spur her into action. "Now, please, get in the water before you fall ill and I have to tend to that, as well."

Serena obliges, stepping into the water and gasping as she lowers her body beneath the surface.

Shadowheart watches with a keen eye; if Serena disappears beneath the surface, they both might meet the end of their journey prematurely.

She realizes now that she might not have been the wisest option to watch over Serena in this state, in a body of water no less.

But Serena trusts her implicitly; she came directly to her, despite being at odds with Shadowheart about her faith. Serena, who has carried her from the heat of battle with a goblin’s arrow protruding from her back. Serena, who brings her night orchids in the cover of darkness because Shadowheart refuses to entertain her affections in front of the others, despite how obvious it’s become to everyone near.

Serena is alone, just as Shadowheart is alone; her closest kin is her mother, way off in the kingdom of Cormyr. Shadowheart has the cloister to return to, eventually. Serena will find herself alone still in Baldur’s Gate, should they ever make it to their final destination.

Shadowheart tries to swallow the feeling down; Serena is temporary.

Lady Shar is permanent.

“Here.” Shadowheart beckons her forth, tilting her head curiously at the way Serena covers her chest with her folded arms, shivering still. “I’ve already seen you, Tav.” She snorts in amusement.

Yes, she and Serena have never had sex, but their shared intimacy is nothing to scoff at. They’ve bathed together, healed and tended to each other, and have pressed gentle kisses to bare skin. They’ve slept together- in the truest sense of the word, waking in each other’s arms.

“Oh.” Serena seems to remember these moments, and a wicked blush sets in on her cheeks. “Right.” She drops her hands awkwardly to her sides, and Shadowheart’s breath catches in her throat at the sight of her bare chest, stiff from the icy water.

Just because she’s seen the soldier and felt her every now and again, it doesn’t mean she can ever grow accustomed to how breathtaking she is.

“Uh-uh.” Shadowheart slaps her hand away as she reaches for the soap. “You want this done quickly? Allow me.”

Serena drops her hands almost at an almost comical speed, and Shadowheart cannot hold back her soft laughter.

Serena’s eyes go wide at the sound, and she smiles, rather stupidly, but Shadowheart’s chest flutters violently all the same. She comes to stand in between Shadowheart’s dangling legs as Shadowheart’s fingers run through her hair, scratching softly at her scalp.

Serena’s eyes close, and when a sound akin to a purr is drawn from her lips, Shadowheart is relieved that she cannot see her smile, wide as it is. Serena’s fingertips slowly come up to rest on Shadowheart’s thighs, and before Shadowheart can berate her for her wet touch, she realizes Serena is attempting to steady her.

It’s all the more endearing when Shadowheart realizes that she is the one swaying, but she reaches for Shadowheart, hoping to calm her by the water’s edge, so aware of her fear of swimming.

A grin finds its way to Shadowheart’s lips, and she shakes her head at the sorry sight before her.

“This…” Serena slurs, never opening her eyes. “...is nice.” She whispers gently, and Shadowheart sighs, wondering for just a moment what a shared domestic life might look like, between them.

Shared baths, shared bedrolls- no, a bed- making meals together, reading awful novels aloud together, taking long walks in lands that are not cursed by the shadows.

She hisses as burning hot pain shoots along her arm, and she recoils sharply.

Serena’s eyes open, and even in her slow and addled state, a frown begins to bloom on full lips as her eyes find Shadowheart’s wound, flaring with purple light.

Shadowheart glances away, fumbling instead for a cloth to busy her aching hand.

Serena manages to finish bathing without sinking to the depths of the lake.

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“-and you let her?” Shadowheart folds her arms as she eyes Astarion, waiting outside her own tent as Serena uses it to change into her camp clothing, now bathed and still disoriented.

“Well, it was either drinking or stabbing.” Astarion shrugs. “Seemed simple enough, really.”

“-Stabbing.” Lae’zel chimes in from across camp, where she sharpens her sword and smirks proudly at her noise pollution.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Lae’zel is right.” Shadowheart snaps. “That would have been the correct decision.”

“According to whom?” Astarion snorts, affronted. “We managed to kill the…ah…fellow…all by his own concoction.” Astarion sniffs. “...Which smelled foul, by the way.”

“I’m aware.” Shadowheart retorts.

“And she volunteered-”

“She always does!” Shadowheart’s eyes narrow. “It’s Tav, she has no sense of self preservation-”

“-Well then perhaps you ought to ask your dear Lady for permission to come, next time.” Astarion quips. “Might be more useful than all those prayers.”

“You know nothing of faith, Astarion-”

“Shhhh.” Serena emerges slowly from Shadowheart’s tent- hair wet, not a speck of dust or dirt on her, in her fresh camp clothing. “My head….” She groans.

“How are you faring, Tav?” Wyll asks from his tent, staying clear of Shadowheart’s blazing path of destruction.

Serena’s eyes narrow, and she thinks for a moment, blinking slowly. “If…the inn is right there…” Serena points to the silhouette of the Last Light Inn in the distant fog. “Why…do we sleep…here?” She waves around.

Wyll opens his mouth to respond, but Karlach barks out a laugh that draws their attention. “…she’s not wrong.” Karlach points out mildly. “Might’ve taken her a tenday to get the sentence out, though. Whatever you drank, soldier, it did something to you.”

Serena’s stomach grumbles loudly and she stares at it in clear offense.

“We’ll finish this later.” Shadowheart snaps in Astarion’s general direction, though he’s already retired into his tent for the evening.

“I await your return with bated breath.” Astarion retorts lazily.

“You.” Shadowheart turns to Serena, hands on her hips. “You need to eat.”

“I do?” Serena looks bewildered, and Shadowheart sighs, taking her hand and tugging her along towards the campfire, where Gale is hard at work preparing supper.

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“...Won’t you eat?”

“Tav, I told you, I’ve already eaten.” Shadowheart lets out a puff of laughter in quiet exasperation. It’s the third time she’s offered since sitting atop the log they occupy, a stone’s throw from the others and far enough away that Shadowheart cannot chew them out for allowing Serena to end up in such a state.

“Oh.” Serena glances at the bowl of stew as if it offends her. “ s’not very good.” She finally mumbles.

Shadowheart notes how candid Serena is when she’s drunk; she had no idea how often Serena bites her tongue.

“Accustomed to grand feasts in your grand dining hall?” Shadowheart teases gently.

“…yes.” Serena shrugs casually, completely missing the dig.

“I’ll be sure to extend your sincere thanks to Gale.” Shadowheart deadpans. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous.”

“Whatever for?” Shadowheart scoffs. “…truly, it can’t be anything worse than what you’ve endured today.”

“For...whatever comes next.” Serena admits with a simple shrug, sighing deeply as she slides off the log and slumps against it instead, head resting by Shadowheart’s knees.

It’s a simple statement- and almost doesn’t seem at all profound, until Shadowheart realizes the anxiety brewing in Serena’s chest is real. It is the same anxiety that finds her in her hours of sobriety, without a drop of liquor in her, Thorm-brewed or otherwise.

It is the same pervasive anxiety that threatens to taint and darken all of Shadowheart’s thoughts- what will become of them?

How much more can they endure, suspended in uncertainty as they are?

Serena does not often give voice to her concerns- she buries them deep within herself. She knows the group looks to her to be the voice of reason and logic- for reasons unknown to her entirely.

Shadowheart knows this burden of isolation; at least she has her goddess.

Serena has sworn herself to no deity; she faces her thoughts alone.

“Why don’t we discuss something else?” Shadowheart murmurs instead, resting a gentle hand on Serena’s shoulder.

“Hmm…” Serena rests her head backwards against the log as she sighs, and Shadowheart eyes the scar on her lip intently. Perhaps, had she known her then, when this wound was first inflicted, she could have prevented such scarring with a healing touch…

…Though she’s not at all opposed to the slightly rugged look it gives her.

“...Are you excited? To be going home?” Serena muses aloud.

“The cloister, you mean?” Shadowheart asks with a furrowed brow.

It’s strange to think of the cloister as home. Shadowheart can hardly remember most of her time there, save for her training.

“Mmm.” Serena’s confirmation is more of a hum, than anything else.

“I am…eager to serve my Lady.” Shadowheart answers quietly. “In any way she requires of me.”

“...don’t wish to hear of your Lady.” Serena snorts.

Shadowheart scowls. “Well then you should-”

“-you, Heart.” Serena prods, and her voice is so tired, so innocent, that Shadowheart’s ire melts away at the sound. “...I want…to hear more about you.”

Shadowheart sighs, and Serena’s request aches deep within her very soul. “I’ve told you all I can remember.” she reiterates.

This is hardly the first time Serena has taken a vested interest in learning more about her; she takes in every detail with an amount of care that’s difficult to fathom.

Shadowheart knows the wisdom of Lady Shar, now- one long gaze into those amber eyes, and she would tell Serena everything, if she could.

Her Lady protects her, even now.

“...Fine.” Serena shrugs and drawls. “...what about…something you don’t remember, then?”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes at her logic, but smiles slightly all the same. She’s particularly fond of this idiot, for some reason.

“I…don’t know anything else about myself.” Shadowheart answers softly. “It is Lady Shar’s will that I keep the cloister’s secrets safe, this way.”

“I can tell you everything about yourself.” Serena assures her, drawing the words out lazily. It’s funny to hear her usually posh patriar accent stretched thin across her own words. She seems assured, confident in her knowledge of all things Shadowheart. It’s more endearing than it is haughty, and Shadowheart takes the bait.

“Oh, can you?” Shadowheart lifts a brow in curiosity.

This, she has to hear.

“Your favorite color is green-”

“It’s black.” Shadowheart scoffs. “Like the night. If you’re going to be a bold drunk, be an accurate one.”

“...if you insist.” Serena slurs and laughs at her, the nerve of her. She doesn’t believe a word out of Shadowheart’s mouth.

“Is that it, then?”

“You love…plants.”

“Riveting.”

“-And you’re upset because Karlach broke your watering vases.”

“This only proves that you have eyes.” Shadowheart points out dryly. “And thank you for reminding me.”

“You enjoy reading…romantic lit..” another hiccup, “...literature.”

Shadowheart’s cheeks burn. “As does Wyll. It’s called having taste.”

“...You like animals…”

“I tolerate them.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“With kisses.” Serena grins to herself. Like you to-” hiccup “-lerate me.”

Shadowheart isn’t certain whether to feel insulted or endeared. She settles on the former, though the latter seems to bleed through her tone, anyway. “...Yes, exactly like that.” she scoffs.

“and…and...you’resokind…” Serena smiles as she slurs the words together. “...even though you pretend to be cross. Often. ”

“I’m not pretending.” Shadowheart scowls once more, though Serena’s words seem to twinkle in her conscience like a bright, guiding star, illuminating the surrounding darkness.

“That scowl.” Serena whispers, glancing up at her in awe, favorably smiling at the lines forming between the crease in her brow.

Gods, the way she looks at Shadowheart, even now.

“These aren’t…are you quite finished?” Shadowheart puts a stop to her before Serena’s words can unravel her any more than they already have.

Serena is disarming; it’s so easy to think of her as a friend…as more than a friend…

Lady Shar reminds Shadowheart that she hasn’t the vacancy in her heart for such trifles, with a blunt shock to the hand, causing Shadowheart to seize up in pain.

This time, Serena sits on her knees, frowning as she reaches for Shadowheart’s hand. Shadowheart does not recoil this time; she can hardly find the strength.

Whatever set Lady Shar off, it has her livid, apparently.

“...You’re always in pain.” Serena remarks softly at first, and before Shadowheart can retort, she realizes it’s just another one of the facts about herself that Serena is reciting to her.

“Pain makes us stronger.” Shadowheart recites on pure instinct, through gritted teeth.

“...Then...What does love do?” Serena asks, eyes wide, head tilted curiously like damn Scratch and Shadowheart feels her chest heave violently at the sight.

You tell me.

“It’ll pass.” Shadowheart waves her off- her skin is hot where Serena holds her hand, absently rubbing a thumb over her wound, soothing away shocks of pain with a gentle touch.

Shadowheart isn’t even certain Serena knows what she’s doing, herself- it is her instinct to hold Shadowheart, to comfort her.

It always works, even now.

The pain in Shadowheart’s arm slowly recedes to just her hand, and eventually, nothing at all. Serena utters not a single word during this process, and Shadowheart realizes, with a sinking feeling in her chest, that Serena would take her pain and endure it herself, had she the opportunity.

Love.

The word rattles around Shadowheart’s mind, and terrifies her further- her lungs constrict, her heart thumps against her ribcage, all in vain as it attempts to leap out of her chest and embrace Serena.

Serena remains with her, close, on her knees holding Shadowheart’s hand, wordlessly.

If, eventually, she grows tired and comes to rest her head atop Shadowheart’s lap, Shadowheart does not protest at all.

Shadowheart cards her fingers absently through her lover’s loose waves, increasingly guilty with each touch and yet- unable to pull away.

Serena’s eyes close, and Shadowheart never ceases her soothing touch, gazing upon Serena’s tired form, entirely at her mercy.

Her mercy.

Serena came to camp and fell at her feet, knowing even in the sorry state she was in, that Shadowheart would be there to put her back together.

Their bond is undeniable; Serena is her closest confidant, her friend, her lover.

It cannot be, not when she’s come so close to fulfilling her Lady’s vision for her.

But Shadowheart cannot deny her heart any longer; the aches and pains of pretending she is fine, when in truth, she is terrified, have caught up with her.

Shadowheart allows herself a moment of weakness, as she watches Serena slowly nod off, ever warm and safe with her head in Shadowheart’s lap.

If she hears her now, at the very least, she certainly won’t remember, come tomorrow.

And so Shadowheart indulges.

Just this once.

“...I know one fact about myself.” Shadowheart murmurs, drawing her fingers through long, dark strands of hair that smell delightfully of jasmine oil and soap. “I…think I’ve fallen in love.” Shadowheart whispers, and the tears that form in the corner of her eyes slowly slip down one by one, leaving a wet trail upon her cheek. “And it’s going to hurt terribly when I have to leave you behind.” she admits, her very being uneasy at such an admission.

Serena does not stir; she smiles peacefully in her slumber atop Shadowheart’s lap.

Shadowheart tries not to memorize the sight that makes her heart quiver with such affection; it will be easier to forget her, this way.

:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

The following morning brings a sense of tranquility to camp.

Morning is perhaps too generous a word for the time; there is no daylight to denote such a change, anyway.

Shadowheart half expects to find Serena still mostly unconscious in her tent; to her surprise, she hears Serena’s voice along with the others before she can even step out of her tent.

Serena sounds well enough; her voice has returned to its normal cadence, and she laughs aloud at something Wyll has told her, echoing across camp.

Warmth blossoms in Shadowheart’s chest at the sound; the warmth is rapidly replaced by an icy feeling instead, when she remembers her plight.

She’d led Serena to her tent, left her with a kiss pressed to her forehead- carefully out of sight of the others, of course, and settled back into her own tent to repent.

Her night was a litany of prayers in the name of Lady Shar- asking her forgiveness, her acceptance, swearing to write Tav off the very moment she is able.

She is to be a Dark Justiciar.

Serena is temporary; Serena is an obstacle.

Shadowheart exits her tent with renewed vigor; she will not so much as glance in her direction. She will finally find the courage to properly honor Lady Shar. With last night’s confession, perhaps she can finally begin to correct her course.

In some way, telling Serena without telling her has done more for Shadowheart than she’d thought possible. Perhaps that was all it was- merely an urge to say something so taboo, so unfathomable, to clear it from her system once and for all.

Shadowheart does not give Serena, nor anyone else, anything beyond a curt smile and nod as she stretches in front of her tent, facing the day for the first time.

It’s a fairly normal morning; Wyll and Serena keep Gale’s company as he prepares breakfast, Karlach and Lae’zel gather more wood for the fire.

Serena glances longingly at Shadowheart, as she tends to do, and Shadowheart quickly looks away after a brief nod, hoping she doesn’t look as harrowed as she feels.

She has to start distancing herself now.

It will be easier to forget her this way.

As Shadowheart averts her gaze, she finds a new vase, filled with water, resting by one of the potted plants beside her tent.

Her heart catches in her throat.

#drabble #nls series #oc: serena tavyndír #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #nobleheart #drabble requests #queue

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surdino · 2 months ago

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If you're still looking for drabble prompts.... Payneland, 50?

Send me drabble requests here!

Oh, I am ALWAYS looking for drabble prompts!!!

Thanks so much for requesting payneland!! Haven't written them in a while, so I hope this is satisfactory 🫶

---

Edwin notices. He notices because he notices everything, especially when things have to do with Charles. He notices Charles most of all.

There's the soft, gentle way he treats Niko. The jokes he exchanges with Crystal, throwing an arm over her shoulder and caging her in his embrace even though she can't feel it and neither can he.

He notices the way he treats their clients. The way he comforts those in pain. The way he always searches for the best in people, even if those people don't deserve it.

Charles is kind to him, especially. He's kind to Edwin in a way that makes him feel incredibly selfish. He wants to gather Charles up in his arms or lock him away in their office and never let him go again.

He's in love, and he's never getting out of it. He realizes it on a stormy afternoon while Charles reads to him because he feels as though he needs to pay him back for all those cold nights Edwin read to him.

It's not a scary realization. For once in his life, Edwin isn't frightened by the potential future. He's known he's been in love with Charles for a long time. Now, knowing it's something certain... It makes things more predictable.

The sky is blue, they are ghosts, and Edwin is going to be in love with Charles for all of eternity. However long that is, for people like them.

What does surprise him is Charles' silent confession. He doesn't even realize it at first.

Charles is around him a lot, that has always been the case. What has not been the case is the near constant touching. Charles will place a hand on his shoulder or on the small of his back. At first it makes Edwin jump. Later, he doesn't notice it anymore. It becomes a part of who they are.

Then come the flowers. The notes.

One night it storms again and Edwin whispers to him, loud enough to be heard over the rain. "Charles?"

Charles looks up from the book he's been reading to him, another silent confession of his love, his devotion.

"Are you in love with me?" Edwin asks, blunt as ever. He has never been very good with social cues, but this is something he should know. The answer would change nothing about how he feels towards Charles.

Charles blinks at him, before he breaks into a smile. "Yeah, mate."

Edwin bites his lip. He doesn't know what to say, so he stays quiet. Charles continues reading.

The same night, after the storm dies down, Edwin feels he has to ask. They haven't decided anything yet, and he's unsure of how their relationship will continue if they don't talk about it.

"The flowers. The notes," he states.

"It's because I love you," Charles answers.

The way Charles says it, like there's not an inch of room for doubt. "Your heart is always on your sleeve," Edwin remarks. It's there when he helps Niko, or Crystal. It's there when he smiles at Edwin from across the room.

"Only around you, because you're the only one that knows me so well," Charles tells him, not moving from his spot in Edwin's chair. "Too well, in fact."

"I don't think I could ever know you too well," Edwin says and that is his answer, he can tell from the glint in Charles's eye.

Maybe their relationship is still something undefined, but he loves Charles and Charles loves him. The future is certain. They will forever be something. Together.

#payneland #edwin x charles #edwin payne #charles rowland #dead boy detectives #dbda #🖊️#drabble requests

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hederasgarden · 6 months ago

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Love the writing challenge! How about Colt Seavers does the fake dating trope with an old childhood friend of his which turns into forced proximity of having to share a bed, and while he's hype about it because he always had a crush on reader, she's panicking because she's always had a crush on him?

This is such a fun prompt. I had a lot of fun writing this!

Pairing: Colt Seavers x F!Reader Word Count: 367 Warnings: None, this is pure fluff. A/N: Thank you to @ryebecca for looking this over! Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Ryan Gosling Character Masterlist

“Oh wow, one bed,” Colt says with a raised brow.

“Are you sure?” You ask, brushing past him into the hotel room, scanning the space like another bed will somehow magically materialize and save you from what was shaping up to be your own version of personal hell. How were you supposed to keep your feelings for him under wraps when you were about to share what looked like the world’s smallest double bed?

“Well, they think we’re dating,” he says, his hands on his hips as he stares at the lone bed with a funny expression on his face. “We can share. It’ll be like old times.”

“When we were five?” You question.

“Are you still an aggressive snuggler?” He asks with a grin. “Just wanna know what I’m working with.”

“I’ll make a pillow divider,” you promise, embarrassed.

Even though the thought of waking up pressed against Colt, your legs tangled together, faces inches apart, is more than tempting, you absolutely could not let that happen. It was a recipe for disaster and heartbreak. Colt didn’t see you as anything more than a friend and he was already doing you a favor by coming with you and pretending to be your boyfriend for this wedding.

“Oh, okay,” Colt says, shoving his hands in his jean jacket. “Cool, cool, cool. Good idea. Thinking ahead.”

“Yup,” you agree cheerfully before falling into silence. It feels awkward and heavy. You look at Colt out of the corner of your eye, surprised to find he’s already watching you but he’s quick to turn away and clear his throat.

“So, uh, we should change and get ready for the rehearsal dinner probably.”

You give a quiet hum of agreement, reaching for your bag, but Colt’s quicker, grabbing it and setting it down on the bed with a grunt. It’s heavy and for a second, you worry about his back. But before you can say anything, he’s already in the hallway, dragging his own duffel bag behind him.

“I’ll need a few minutes to do my hair but otherwise the bathroom is all yours,” he informs you, rummaging through his duffel to pull out a ziplock bag full of toiletries. “I know it looks effortless,” he continues, gesturing to his messy locks, “but it takes a surprising amount of product to get it there. Styling putty and hair dryer mostly. Some hairspray…” he trails off and rubs the back of his neck.

“This takes a lot of work too,” you joke, tapping your fingers on your face. You expect him to laugh, but instead, he frowns, his brow furrowing.

“You’ve never needed all that,” he says. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

Send me a request

#colt seavers x reader #colt seavers x you #colt seavers #the fall guy #drabble requests

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amethystarachnid · 3 months ago

Note

Hi @amethystarachnid I just read that new drabble with tony and it's so cute and funny. I want to request for a lovely drabble w y/n & tony y/n pampering him and babying him and lots of kisses and tony loving it but acting all tough and sassy in front of other Avengers and y/n teasing him about it. It'd be so cute 🤭

I read that you're busy so write only if you can. Thank you buddy ‭❤

PAMPERING TONY STARK - A Drabble

I love pampering people and just taking care of them so this is heaven for me...and that's because this is so long lol.

The first time you do it, Tony freezes like a deer in headlights. You just cup his face in your hands, plant a long, obnoxiously loud smooch on his forehead, and go, “Who’s my handsome genius billionaire?”

“Uh. Me?” He blinks, genuinely unsure if this is a trick.

“Yes, you.” You pepper more kisses on his cheeks, his nose, and right at the corner of his lips. He’s absolutely malfunctioning. You can practically hear the Windows error sound in his brain.

“Okay, okay, slow down—what’s this for?” he asks, voice dropping into that flustered I’m totally fine, don’t make a big deal out of it tone.

You just grin. “Because I love you, duh.” And then you smoosh his cheeks together and make him do a ridiculous little fish face before landing another loud kiss on his lips.

Tony Stark—Mr. Cool, Confident, Cocky—actually sputters.

“This is—this is excessive. I have a reputation,” he protests weakly, but his hands are already resting on your waist, and he’s definitely leaning in just a little.

You ignore him and keep at it. “Awww, is my genius getting all shy? Can’t handle a little love?” Another kiss. Another. Another.

“I can handle it,” he grumbles, though his ears are turning pink. You kiss them too, just to prove a point.

At first, he pretends to put up a fight every time you do this—like when you ambush him while he’s working, or when you trap him on the couch, straddling his lap just to smother him with affection.

“Sweetheart, I have a very delicate and important project—”

Kiss.

“You can’t just—”

Kiss. Kiss.

“I am a grown man—”

KISS.

Eventually, he just gives up. Fully accepts his fate. Melts into every touch, every kiss, every obnoxious display of affection.

And now, if a day goes by without you showering him with attention, he gets huffy.

“Excuse me, but I believe you forgot to shower me in love and affection today. Am I not your favorite billionaire anymore?”

If you try to hold back for even a second, he literally pouts. “Wow. So this is how I get treated after all we’ve been through.”

But the moment you pull him in and absolutely smother him in kisses again, his entire face lights up, and he grumbles, “Yeah, okay. Maybe this is kinda nice.”

In private? Tony is an absolute menace for your affection. If you so much as sit down next to him, he’s already pulling you into his lap like, “I’m just making sure you don’t get away before I get my daily dose, obviously.”

But the moment the Avengers are around? Oh, suddenly, he’s Mr. Too Cool for This Soft Stuff™.

The first time Steve walks in on you kissing Tony’s face like he’s a tiny, spoiled prince, Tony immediately sits up and clears his throat. “Ahem. Yeah, uh, work stuff, Cap. Very official.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Work stuff?”

“Yes, very advanced research in…uh, emotional stability enhancement. Clearly.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve tries not to laugh.

You just smirk and lean in again, pressing a big mwah to Tony’s cheek. “Awww, am I distracting the big strong genius?”

Tony makes a deeply unconvincing groan, but the moment Steve leaves, he instantly turns and demands another one. “Okay, now that we’re alone—continue. Extensively.”

Natasha catches him once too. You’re literally trapping Tony in a hug, your fingers threading through his hair, kissing the top of his head. He’s definitely leaning into it, looking half-asleep and utterly content—until Natasha coughs.

“Wow,” she deadpans. “You gonna survive, Stark?”

Tony, without missing a beat, immediately sits up. “Listen, I have no choice in this. I’m just an innocent bystander in this overly affectionate attack.”

“Oh yeah?” You tease, crossing your arms. “Because someone literally climbed into my lap last night just to demand forehead kisses.”

“Lies and slander.”

“Tony, you literally pouted at me when I stopped.”

“Okay, first of all, I was testing the effects of withdrawal. For science.”

Natasha just smirks and walks away, while Tony groans and mutters, “Ugh, this is your fault.”

But despite all his protests in front of the team, everyone knows the truth.

Clint casually walks in one day, sees you sitting on the couch while Tony full-on buries his face in your neck, and just sips his coffee. “So, uh…you still claiming you hate affection?”

Tony doesn’t even lift his head. “Shut up, Legolas.”

And when you call him out for being a big softie, he just rolls his eyes. “Pfft. Soft? No, no, sweetheart, you’re the one addicted to this. I’m just doing my duty as a supportive boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” You grin and pull away slightly. “So if I stop giving you kisses, you’ll be fine?”

Tony freezes.

You smirk, moving just an inch further away.

“…Okay, now, let’s not be rash,” he says quickly, wrapping his arms back around you. “Let’s be reasonable adults about this.”

“You need my kisses,” you tease.

“I don’t need them, I just—” He sighs dramatically. “—fine, maybe I need them. A little.”

You boop his nose. “Good boy.”

“Okay, that’s too far—”

But you cut him off with another kiss, and suddenly, all of Tony’s sass mysteriously disappears.

hope you liked it <3

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littlebirdygirlywriting · 3 months ago

Text

Unpleasant Anniversaries

Daredevil Masterlist || Based on this request!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every year, it was the worst week of your life. A week absolutely brimming with unpleasant anniversaries. But when you sleep through your alarm for work, you don’t expect a certain Matt Murdock to come knocking at your door. Or that you’d confess the feelings you have for him.

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I reference a game of truth or dare so often in this fic just to not be able to come up with what the dare would be. Smh. Sorry guys. You can use your imagination I guess. 😂 Thank you SO MUCH for the request anon!! I hope it’s everything you were hoping it would be and that it’s not too cliche… (And that it’s not too long, because this baby really got away on me. 😬) This is actually my first time writing (or at least posting) for the DD fandom, so please let me know if I’m OOC!

Warnings: Angst (but with a happy ending), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, References to Parental Death, Cussing, References to Alcohol and Hangovers, no use of y/n (I’m getting pretty good at back flipping and somersaulting around it, but I still apologize if it comes off clunky), Fluff at the end (because what’s the point of hurt/comfort if we don’t have some cute, fluffy comfort??), Love Confessions. I’m posting this without editing, and yes, that is a warning. (I am SO going to regret this decision later, but I am way too tired to edit).

Word Count: 2.3k

———————————————————————————

This cannot be happening. I cannot be falling in love with Matt Murdock.

It was stupid, really. The stupidest thing that had caused you to realise it.

Freaking Foggy.

Granted, you couldn’t entirely blame him. You were far too old to succumb to peer pressure anyway. Far too old to be playing Truth or Dare with a six-pack of beer and the exhaustion of an emotional week under your belt.

A week absolutely brimming with unpleasant anniversaries.

The anniversary of your mother’s death, the anniversary of your long-term boyfriend breaking up with you for your best friend, your birthday. Bing, bang, boom…back-to-back.

Every year, it was the worst week of your life, and you just wanted something fun and lighthearted and silly enough to make you forget about the ache wrenching your heart in two.

Stupid. Stupid anniversaries and stupid emotions and stupid, stupid, STUPID, idiotic game.

It was juvenile, and you cursed yourself for going along with the idea. Because now, you had another item to add to the list.

And the week wasn’t even over yet.

A steady thumping at your door matched the rhythm pounding in your head, your name spoken through the thin wood.

Peeking through cracked eyelids revealed afternoon sunlight streaming into your apartment, the alarm clock beside your bed happily displaying 12:05pm.

Shit!

You bolted upright in bed, groaning as your head throbbed in protest. Another series of knocks rapped against your door, followed by your name again. Double shit!

Matt.

Stumbling out of bed, you grit your teeth against the headache and tripped your way to the door, fumbling with the lock and cursing your hangover. The drinking hadn’t stopped once you got home, and you were really starting to regret that decision.

The lock clicked, and before Matt even had a chance to step into the apartment, apologies were spewing from your lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Matt. It won’t happen again. I must’ve slept through the alarm or forgot to set it or something, but it won’t happen again, I promise. I—”

The words were spilling out of you like a river, and even you were struggling to make sense of them. Embarrassingly, tears pricked the backs of your eyes, something that only deepened the ache pounding through your skull.

“Hey.” Matt dropped his cane in the entryway, door closing behind him and strong, steady hands placed groundingly on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad. Foggy, Karen, and I were just worried when you didn’t show up to work. We thought somebody better come check on you.”

That was…really sweet.

And the floodgates opened.

Gut-wrenching sobs tore through your body, every ounce of hurt and despair and loneliness bottled up for the last several years breaking through your carefully-constructed walls and flowing like a wellspring onto the hardwood floor.

For a second, Matt froze, stunned, and you wanted to kick yourself. This was not what Matt had signed up for by volunteering to come check on you. If anything, he was probably wishing right now that Karen or Foggy or literally anyone else had offered to go instead.

“I’m–I’m sorry.” You tried to apologize for crying, for not showing up to work, for being a crazy, messed-up disaster that Matt certainly shouldn’t have to deal with.

His arms wrapped around you, warm and comforting, and despite your best intentions, you found yourself melting into the touch, clinging to the front of his dress shirt and probably ruining it with your tears.

“I’m–I’m sorry, Matt. I–”

“Shhh.” He interrupted you with a hum, gently resting his chin on top of your head, strong arms locked securely around you.

Still, you felt the need to explain.

“It’s–it’s just a really rough week for me, but I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine. I always end up fine. I just–”

He shushed you again quietly, warm hands running soothing strokes up and down your back. The tears began to slow, and you hiccuped before attempting to take a long, controlled breath.

“That’s it. That’s good. Just breathe.”

His hands didn’t stop moving, and you closed your eyes, savouring the touch for however long it would last. Burying yourself in the comfort of it.

Maybe you could make a piece of this moment last forever.

When a deep, shuddery sigh expelled itself from your lungs, Matt stepped back, head tilting as his hands rested back on your shoulders, seeming to be listening for something. What, you didn’t know. Concern marred a crease on his forehead though, and another wave of guilt roiled in your stomach.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was small and weak, pathetic. “Matt, I’m so–”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” His tone was firm, brooking no argument. His hand started stroking up and down your arm. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I was late for work.” The words fell to the floor with your gaze.

“We got by for the morning.”

You squinted against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, the ache behind your eyes barely manageable. “I made you guys worry.”

His tone remained smooth, calm. “That’s okay. You’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

“And…” You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, worrying your lip between your teeth. “I got tears on your shirt.”

A wry smile tilted his lips, and you could just picture the amusement dancing behind those red glasses. “I’ll live, and it’ll wash.”

“I just…” You sighed, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes, trying to uproot the headache that seemed to be drilling a hole through your skull. “I just wish this week was over.”

The tips of his fingers danced over your arm, and his voice became low, tender. “Why?”

Tears sprang to your eyes again, but you forced them back, swallowing down the lump attempting to rise in your throat.

Could you tell him? Could you really, truly trust him with this information? Would it make him look at you differently? Would it make him see you as broken?

“It just…” You paused, hesitating. “It’s just got some bad memories attached to it, is all.” Then, before you could stop yourself. “Did you know my mom died six years ago yesterday?”

Matt frowned, lips twitching like he wanted to speak.

But you kept going.

“Heart attack. The doctors never saw it coming. I was in my first year of university…” You swallowed, bitter memories you regularly kept locked away rising to the surface. “I was on the plane when she passed—didn’t even know until my dad met me at the airport.”

Your name drifted from his lips, hushed and sad. It should make you stop—it should make you shove the feelings back into a box, lock them up tight, and forget about them forever. Instead…

“Two years later, this great guy came into my life. Smart, funny…” Almost as handsome as you. You pushed the thought aside and continued. “We were talking about marriage. Family, kids. We would buy a house on the coast, right next to his parents. We were going to be so happy…”

The memory played out before your eyes. Big house, a dog, 2.5 children—you’d even talked colour schemes, baby names. Had tentatively set a date for just after graduation.

“Until the doctors thought they found something on one of my routine screenings. Suddenly, ‘in sickness and in health’ became a little too close to home. He was sleeping with my best friend before I even had a chance to tell him it was a false alarm.”

By the hard set of his jaw, Matt was less than pleased to hear about your piece-of-shit ex, lips pressed firmly together like he might be trying to keep himself from having a word with him this very moment.

A near-hysterical laugh floated up from your chest, heart ripping apart inside you.

“It was really a stupidly shitty thing to do on someone’s birthday, but hey, live and learn I guess. Just gives me one less reason to celebrate. It hasn’t been the same since my mom passed anyway…”

His head tilted sharply. “Your birthday is this week?”

A small, pathetic nod tipped your chin. “Today, actually.”

Matt’s jaw worked, expression so pained you thought for a second he might be more hurt by the knowledge than you were.

“And then, of course, I’m stupid enough to play Truth or Dare, get so outrageously drunk that I sleep through my alarm, and if I worked for anyone other than you, I would’ve been fired on the spot, so…” The headache was splitting your brain in two. You needed an aspirin. “Icing on the cake.”

Walking into the kitchen to dig through your cupboards for the pill bottle and a glass of water, you genuinely hoped Matt would leave it as is. It was stupid—nothing but a hard week and an off day and two minutes of word vomiting. Or maybe closer to ten. Either way, you just wanted to keep your head low and forget about this little outburst until the end of the week, when you could cry properly.

Of course, you should’ve known better than to think Matt would leave it alone.

“Okay, first of all,” he said, following you into the kitchen, “you would not have been fired from any other job. You’ve been nothing but punctual every other day of the year—one bad day doesn’t scrap a perfectly good record. And second–” he interrupted your protest with a furrowed brow and his hand raised in the ‘stop’ position. “You were not that drunk when you left the office yesterday. What happened?”

You winced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, and you delayed by popping the aspirin in your mouth with a swig of water. When you were finished, Matt was still waiting.

“Nothing.”

He scoffed, and you tried not to let it hurt. “Nothing?”

“That’s what I said, Matt.” Whoa, you did not mean for your tone to be so sharp, but there was no stopping it now. “Maybe I had a few more when I got home. Maybe I had a whole case. Maybe—” your voice cracked, and tears pricked your eyes again. “Maybe I just didn’t want to think about my dead mother or my cheating ex or the fact that when I took that fucking dare yesterday, I didn’t realise I had feelings for you until it was too late. And I—” Tears flooded the dam, dripping down your cheeks, your words breaking on a sob. “I can’t have feelings for you, because all they ever do is get me hurt…and I can’t handle any more hurt, Matt. I can’t! I can’t–-”

For the second time that day, you dissolved into sobs, the sheer force of pain clefting you in two like a tidal wave.

Through a haze of tears, you watched Matt hesitate, hand flexing, before stepping forward and slowly wrapping his arms around you, keeping you together when you were sure you would fall apart.

The reality of what you’d just confessed washed over you, embarrassment now mixing with the sadness to create a whirl of agonising pain.

You wanted to choke on the feelings.

“I’m–I’m sorry, Matt.” Your words were so garbled, you have no idea how he understood them.

But he did.

“What did I say earlier?” he soothed, warm hand stroking up and down your back again. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

God, you wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that you hadn’t just ruined your career confessing feelings for your boss. Wanted to believe that he wouldn’t just slowly disappear from your life, like a ship in the night, fading out of friendship, out of reach of a lighthouse.

Your body bucked and hiccuped, lungs struggling for air through the emotion filling your chest. His arms tightened around you.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Shhhh.” His lips graced your hairline—a soft kiss, tender—before he again rested his chin on top of your head. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe, okay?”

You shook your head, the salt-stained fabric of his shirt swishing against your ear. “No. Matt, I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“I ruined everything!”

Grasping fistfuls of his shirt in shaky hands, you felt his jaw shift atop your head.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “I—God, I…I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

You sniffed, wiping the tear stains off your cheeks with his shirt. “Told me what?”

He paused, chest expanding with a breath, like he was preparing himself for something.

“That I…I have feelings for you too.”

“Don’t patronize me, Murdock,” you snipped, attempting to push out of his arms, because that’s just what you didn’t need, someone to make fun of the emotions that you already knew were stupid.

He held you fast.

“I’m not. I promise you I’m not.” The conviction in his voice was almost enough to convince you of the truth on its own. And if it wasn’t, his heart racing against your fingertips, chaotic and wild, certainly was. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, sweetheart. I–I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

He smiled sheepishly, and the world moved in slow motion.

“You…love me?” A whisper is too loud to describe the question you breathed, but Matt chuckled, the tips of his ears flushed a dusty shade of pink.

“Yeah.” His head tilted, slight crease between his brows, carefully regarding your reaction.

“Matt Murdock…” you breathed, wiping the final few tears off your cheeks and looking up into his red glasses. “This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

He frowned. “Then we really need to fix that.”

You laughed, a real, genuine laugh, probably the first one this entire week, and melted back into his arms.

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