#why is that my default way of typing?

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

if a writer insists that the best written female characters in existence are stoic and for all intents and purposes could be replaced by a male doppelganger without changing anything material about the story, ie """androgynous""" roles that just so happen to be played by a girl/woman, then that writer will face the same criticisms over and over forever that they only know how to write at most 2 women, and will ultimately never be someone who can write a variety of characters from a place of originality or honesty

and any reader who insists the same will forever feel threatened or disgusted by any characters who don't fit or don't reassure their expectations of gender-essentialism

[bendover-productions]

Sorry if you've already been informed of this, but in case you haven't, I just want you to know that Sam still has the teal pom pom hat! He said on the podcast that he misplaced it almost immediately and thought he had lost it, but that he found it in his bag once he got back!

NO!!! no one told me!!! 😭😭 thank you so much, that teal hat is incredibly important to me and i am delighted he still has it

^^^sam in that hat. to me tbh <3

[kuiinncedes]

???

[spring-lxcked]

evil evil man but he can't date sb who doesn't enjoy physical affection from him because he's so damn needy. he sees his partner sitting down and he either has to be in their lap or as close to them as possible. even if he falls asleep next to his partner not cuddling, they'll still wake up with him half on top of them. kisses as greetings and goodbyes and because he's bored and yes there's a 43.25% chance he'll try to turn it into a makeout even if they're busy with something. partner is like "you're distracting me" and he's literally rubbing his face against theirs like "no i'm not." and he'll start this shit in the pre-dating """Platonic""" phase too if the person will let him and he likes them enough.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

i can not for the life of me remember if a thing i saw abou t Strangegloffve was a memory or a dream and i swear it was a memory but the more i think about it the less i can remember where i saw it from and that makes me want to think that it was a dream because it's so foggy and like. It's not like I went looking for new content of him or anything. and it is driving me nuts. The more I think about it the more I feel like it might've just been some crazy dream cause it feels like something I'd seen before but I know it was something new as well because there. is no way something like that wouldve slipped my mind. That's probably why i cant rememebr any other details about it even though I remember it as something that happened like. yesterday. Or the day before or something.

[slimyenemy]

told you i'm cool and hard boiled. duh.

[viviansturns]

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 - wc: 15k+

... shy!matt x reader—a love story told in all their first moments

cw: flirting, kissing, sub!matt, p in v, riding, squirting, humiliation, jealousy, angst, fluff, literally everything. its a love story!

First Time Meeting

The library was almost empty.

It was late afternoon, the kind of time when the sun starts to filter in sideways through the windows and paint golden lines across the floor. Matt liked it then—quiet, still, safe. The way the shelves muffled everything, the way people whispered by default. He came here more than he liked to admit, always with a book or a sketchpad, always ending up in the same worn seat by the back window.

That’s where he saw you.

He noticed you before you noticed him. You were standing near the psychology shelf, one hand on your hip, head tilted like you were sizing up a row of books for a fight. He thought you were gorgeous— to put it lightly.

There was something about how still you were, how focused. Like you didn’t care who else was in the room. That alone made Matt’s stomach do something embarrassing.

He looked away. Then back again.

You pulled out a book, flipped it open, and sighed. It was almost imperceptible, but he heard it. And then, as if drawn by some invisible, stupid force, Matt stood up.

He didn’t plan on saying anything. He really didn’t. But somehow, he ended up a few feet away, pretending to look for something on the shelf beside you.

You glanced at him once, then twice.

“You need something?” you asked, not unkind, just direct.

Matt blinked, caught. “Oh—uh. No. I was just…”

He trailed off. What was he just?

You raised an eyebrow, book still half-open in your hand. “Just hovering weirdly near me?”

Matt’s face flushed instantly. “I—sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t—”

You smiled then, subtle but real. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh.” He blinked, shoulders tensing, then easing. “Right. Okay.”

You closed the book and tucked it under your arm, turning toward him a little more fully. “You hang out here a lot?”

He hesitated. “Yeah. Kind of my place, I guess.”

“Yeah? You seem like the library type?

That made him tilt his head. “What’s the library type?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Glasses? Button up shirts? Tote bags or some shit??”

He laughed, caught off guard. “I mean, I do have many tote bags. And glasses. And button up shirts.”

You nodded toward the sketchpad under his arm. “You draw?”

Matt looked down like he forgot he was holding it. “Oh—yeah. A bit.”

“Can I see?”

His eyes widened slightly. “Now?”

“No,” you said, mock serious. “In a couple days.”

He laughed nervously. “Right. Sorry.”

He flipped open the sketchpad without thinking, hands clumsy, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were. The pages showed a mix of quick studies—hands, faces, street scenes—done in pencil, loose and warm.

You looked for a moment, quiet.

“These are really good,” you said.

Matt blinked, startled. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No, like—actually. I don’t usually say things I don’t mean.”

“I—okay.” He tried not to grin like an idiot. “That’s... really nice of you. Um t-thank you.”

You glanced at him again, more carefully this time. “You always this twitchy, or is it just me?”

He flushed. “Just you, probably.”

You smiled again. “Cute.”

His ears turned red. “You, uh… you come here a lot?”

��Sometimes. When I want to think. Or avoid people.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s why I come too.”

You looked at him for a moment longer, like you were deciding something.

“I’m gonna go sit over there,” you said, motioning toward the window seat he always used. “You can come too, if you want.”

Matt hesitated just long enough for you to raise an eyebrow again.

“Unless you’re scared,” you added.

“I’m not scared,” he said quickly, stepping forward before his brain could stop him.

You gave a soft hum of approval and led the way. When you sat, you didn’t spread out or mark your space—just leaned back, casual, like you belonged there. Matt hovered for a beat too long before settling beside you, sketchpad in his lap, palms sweating.

“So,” you said after a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Matt.”

You repeated it under your breath, then nodded. “I’m y/n.”

Silence again. Not awkward—just expectant.

“I really wasn’t trying to be weird earlier,” Matt blurted.

You looked at him sideways. “You kinda were.”

“I know,” he groaned, covering his face.

You nudged his knee with yours. “But I didn’t mind.”

He peeked at you between his fingers. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, letting your smile grow slowly. “You’re cute when you panic.”

Matt didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He just looked at you—composed, unreadable, and yet totally disarming—and felt like someone had pulled the floor out from under him.

You nudged his knee again, gentler this time. “Cat got your tongue, sketchboy?”

He blinked like he’d just surfaced. “Sorry, I’m—this is just... a lot.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Me sitting near you is ‘a lot’?”

“No, it’s just—you’re really…” He trailed off, like the word had gotten stuck somewhere between his brain and mouth.

“I’m really…?” you prompted, leaning in slightly.

Matt swallowed. “Distracting.”

You grinned. “I’ll take it.”

He laughed under his breath, nervous again, thumb grazing the corner of his sketchpad like it was grounding him. “You make it hard to think.”

“That’s the goal,” you said casually, watching him squirm. “But if it helps, you’re doing okay.”

He tilted his head. “Okay?”

“Better than I expected.”

“Better than—wait, what were you expecting?”

You shrugged like it wasn’t important. “I don’t know. More stammering. More sweating.”

“Oh, I’m definitely sweating,” he muttered.

You smirked and leaned back against the window, eyes squinting at the slats of sunlight spilling across the floor. “You’re funny, though. Kind of sweet.”

Matt opened his mouth, then closed it again. “You’re just… saying that.”

“No,” you said, without looking at him. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

And that quiet between you returned—just long enough for the tension to shift from playful to something heavier. More real.

“I, um…” Matt started, then stopped, biting his lip.

You glanced over. “What?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking absolutely anywhere but at you. “I’ve got a lecture that I have to head to. Would it be super weird if I asked for your number?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him for a second too long. Then:

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you’re actually gonna use it.”

His head snapped up. “I—yes. I will. I mean, I want to.”

You pulled a pen from your tote and reached for his sketchpad. “Then I guess it’s not super weird.”

You scribbled your number in the corner, dotting the “i” in your name with a tiny star. Then handed it back like it was no big deal.

Matt looked down at it like it might vanish.

“Don’t overthink it,” you said as you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Just text me.”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

You paused, gave him one last look. “Nice meeting you, Matt.”

And then you walked away, as calm and unreadable as when you’d arrived, leaving him blinking in the gold light, sketchpad in hand, heart doing things he didn’t know hearts could do.

First Texts

Matt: hey It’s me, matt, from the library?

You: Hey matt Whats up

Matt: so hypothetically if someone wanted to see you again in a setting that wasn’t just surrounded by dusty psychology books how would you feel about that?

You: i’d feel like that person should stop hiding behind hypotheticals and just ask me out

Matt: okay uh  d’you wanna go have a picnic? I know a quiet spot. Nothing fancy. Just food and you I guess.

You:  Food and me?? Sounds fun

Matt:  Good. I’ll bring snacks and a blanket. You just bring yourself.

You:  Deal. Saturday afternoon work?

Matt:  Yeah that works! I’ll pick you up.

First Date

The park was quiet, with just enough afternoon sun slipping through the trees to make the grass glow golden. Matt spread the blanket carefully, trying not to fumble too much with the snacks he’d brought. He’d overthought everything—the perfect spot, the right food— chocolate covered strawberries, all sorts of fruits and cheeses, and chips.

You plopped down right beside him, knees touching, grinning in surprise.

“Wow,” you said, eyeing his arrangement. “Look at you, all organized and stuff. I half expected you to show up with a bag of chips and maybe a soda.”

Matt’s cheeks flushed, a little overwhelmed by your energy. “Hey, I put some thought into this. Quality counts.”

You leaned in closer, voice low and teasing. “I like a guy who tries. Those fuckin’ nochalant guys piss me off.”

He swallowed hard, blinking, sort of unable to focus. He really liked your eyelashes. You did your makeup in the way that made them clumped together in triangles and spikey, framing your eyes. “I—yeah, thank you.”

“No, thank you.” You add, picking up a strawberry from the bowl. “You seem really sweet. Kinda random, but did you bring your sketchbook by any chance?”

Matt shifted, breaking out into a cute smile. “Yeah! I did, actually Why?.”

You laughed, the sound light and infectious. “You’re so excited!”

He smiled shyly, glancing down at the blanket like it was a lifeline. 

You dug into the basket again and pulled out the sketchbook, flipping it open to a blank page. “Alright, Picasso, impress me.”

Matt’s eyes brightened, and he took the sketchbook, already grabbing a pencil from his bag. “Okay, but be warned—I’m better at drawing nature than people.”

You smirked, nudging him playfully. “Then you better start with me.”

He bit his lip, concentrating, pencil moving carefully. You watched him, fascinated by the furrow of his brow and the way his fingers trembled just a little.

“I-I don’t know if it’s going to be good.”

You reached out and brushed a stray hair from his face, smiling softly. “You’re doing just fine.”

Matt’s heart did a weird flip-flop thing. “You’re way too nice.”

“Nah, I just like making cute nerds blush.”

He coughed awkwardly, cheeks flaming. “I’m not blushing.”

“Sure you’re not.” You grinned, then changed the subject, “So, what’s next after strawberries? I’m expecting a grand tour of your snack stash.”

“Grand tour? Wow, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

You laughed again, flicking a crumb at him. “Flattery and flirting—my specialties.”

Matt tried to catch the crumb but missed, ending up with it on his shirt. You giggled, and he gave up, just grinning like a total dork, then going back to draw.

“You’re distracting,” he muttered, eyes flicking up to yours as his pencil moved in short, careful strokes.

“Am I?” you teased, voice lilting.

“Painfully,” he replied without looking up, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

You sat back a little, giving him space, watching the way his hand moved. He was quiet for a bit, just sketching, tongue peeking out in concentration.

Finally, he stopped, blowing gently across the page like it’d smudge if he even breathed wrong. “Okay, um. It’s not perfect, but…”

He turned the sketchbook around and showed you.

It was you—your hair a little messy from the breeze, lips parted like you were mid-laugh, sitting cross-legged with a strawberry in one hand. Soft lines, but so intentional. Warm. Kind of how he saw you.

Your teasing fell away for a second.

“Holy shit, Matt,” you said, actually stunned. “That’s… that’s really good.”

He looked like he was about to short-circuit. “You think so?”

You nodded slowly, eyes still on the drawing. “It’s not even about the lines or whatever—it just… feels like me. Like how I felt sitting here. That’s kinda magical, you know?”

Matt blinked, definitely blushing now.

You leaned in, elbow nudging his. “You’re kinda magical, Matt.”

He looked away, smiling so wide he couldn’t stop it. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs out across the blanket as the sun dipped a little lower, turning everything hazy and golden. The strawberry stem still sat between your fingers, forgotten.

Matt was watching you like he didn’t mean to. Like every time he looked away, he had to check again to make sure you were still real.

You caught him. “You good?”

He blinked, startled. “What? Yeah—yeah, I’m just…”

“Mesmerized by my beauty?”

“I mean…” He trailed off, but you saw the grin creeping onto his face.

You laughed, brushing your fingers lightly against his arm. “Relax, I’m just messing.”

“Kind of wish you weren’t,” he muttered under his breath, quiet but not quiet enough.

You stilled for half a second, then smiled—gentler this time. “I’m glad I came.”

He looked over at you again, blinking slowly, eyes all soft. “Me too.”

There was a pause—comfortable. The kind you don’t notice until it’s over.

Eventually, you helped him pack up, folding the blanket between you, hands brushing once, twice, until he finally just said, “Let me,” and took it from you, a little too careful, a little too flustered.

When you got to the path back toward the street, you slowed down. “Hey, Matt?”

He looked over, hair mussed from the breeze, sketchbook tucked under his arm.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Just barely, but definitely enough to make his ears go red.

“Thanks for today,” you said.

Matt blinked. “Uh. Yeah. No. Yeah—thank you. Too. I mean. You’re welcome. I mean—”

You grinned. “God, you’re cute.”

He laughed, finally letting out a breath. “I don’t know how you do that”

“Good,” you said, turning to go. “I don’t want you to.”

And with that, you walked off, glancing back once to see him still standing there, grinning like he couldn’t believe his life.

First Kiss

You’d been on a few dates by now—enough that Matt had stopped flinching every time your knee touched his under the table, but not enough that he’d figured out how to look at your mouth without going pink.

Tonight, it was a walk. No real plan. Just you, Matt, and the city lit up like it was showing off for you.

He kept sneaking glances. You kept pretending not to notice. Then purposely brushing your shoulder into his just to make him stumble over his words again.

“You know,” you said as you passed a quiet little streetlamp, “you’re starting to look at me like you wanna kiss me.”

Matt nearly tripped. “What—? I’m—No, I mean—yes? I mean—”

You stopped walking, turning toward him with a teasing smile. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite. Unless you’re into that.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “I, uh. I do want to kiss you. Kinda a lot.”

A sold moment passed.

“Then do it.”

His eyes widened a little, like he wasn’t expecting you to just say it. He opened his mouth then closed it like a fish, unable to get words out.

But he stepped in anyway, one slow inch at a time. Close enough to see every little shimmer in your eyes. Close enough to get nervous again.

You reached up and tugged gently at the collar of his hoodie. “C’mon, Matt. You’ve drawn me twice. You can kiss me once.”

That made him laugh, nervous and breathless. His pretty eyes behind his glasses kept flicking between your eyes and your lips as you just watched him carefully.

Then he leaned in. It was soft. Careful. Like he was afraid you might vanish if he messed it up. But your hands found the sides of his face, grounding him, and when you kissed back—just a little firmer, a little more sure—he melted into it. 

His hands came to go around your waist as he tilted his head slightly to slot his lips perfecty against yours. His glasses make contact with your nose as he kisses you a bit harder.

When you pulled away, barely, his forehead bumped gently into yours.

“You okay?” you murmured.

“Yeah,” he said, dazed. “Just—processing. That was...wow.”

You grinned. “You’re cute when your brain short-circuits.”

“You’re cute,” he said, quickly, confidence boosting his ability to compliment you.

You laughed, threading your fingers through his. “True. But you’re especially cute when you’re flustered. Which, lucky for me, is always.”

Then without hesitation, put his hands around your face and kissed you again, this time without overthinking.

Progress.

First Sleepover

You were early. Not by much. Just thirty minutes. You had your reasons: the streetcar came fast, your outfit (which was just your pajamas) had come together better than expected, and… okay, maybe you just wanted to see him a little sooner.

What you didn’t expect was for Matt to answer the door shirtless and confused, hair wet and curling at the ends. He blinked at you, eyes wide behind his glasses, water still dripping down his collarbone. 

He clearly had meant to shave you had interrupted his frantic getting ready based on the slight scruff on his jawline— he usually had it cleanly shaved, and you couldn't help but love this look.

“…You’re early.”

You smiled like you hadn’t just swallowed a breath. “Yeah. Guess I missed you.”

Matt looked panicked. “I—I just got out of the shower.”

“I can see that,” you said, gaze shameless. “And you look very clean. Very damp. Very shirtless.”

He flushed to the tips of his ears. “Oh my God.”

You leaned against the doorframe, all teeth. “Should I wait out here while you compose yourself? Or do I get a pre-movie show?”

He made a strangled noise, yanked the door open wider, and turned away too fast. “Just come in—give me two seconds—Jesus—”

You giggled and stepped inside, not bothering to hide the way your eyes trailed after him as he disappeared down the hall.

By the time he reemerged, shirt clinging slightly from rushed dressing and curls still drying, you were perched on the couch with your legs tucked under you and the popcorn he had laid out in your lap. “Much better,” you said. “I mean, I prefer the previous look, but I’ll survive.”

“y/n,” Matt muttered, sitting down beside you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You bumped your shoulder into his. “Nah. Not yet.”

After a while when Matt had turned all the light on and gotten settled, the movie played. Sort of. You weren’t really watching it. Neither was he.

You commented too much. He laughed too easily. He kept glancing at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, and you definitely noticed.

At some point, his arm had somehow ended around your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything. It just stayed there, warm and loose between popcorn refills. Eventually, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. His breath caught.

“I really like this,” you whispered.

“Me too,” he said, even softer.

You turned your head slightly to look at him. Your faces were closer than you realized.

He didn’t move.

So you leaned in and kissed him—slow and easy, like you’d been waiting all week to do it again.

Matt made a soft sound, almost surprised, and kissed you back. It was warmer this time, a little more sure. In his mind, all he wanted to do was launch forwards and kiss you harder. You were just so captivating that it’s all he could think of, but he tried keeping self control, and pulled away.

He pulled away with a shaky breath, eyes fluttering open like he was waking from a dream. His lips were pink, his cheeks flushed, and you could feel the restraint vibrating off him.

You tilted your head, voice teasing. “What, that’s all I get?”

Matt laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I didn’t stop, I wasn’t gonna stop.”

Your brows lifted, amusement flickering in your smile. “Wow. Bold of you to assume I’d mind.”

He groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “Don’t say stuff like that. I’ll combust.”

You leaned on him, gently resting a hand on his leg that laid right beside yours. “You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

He looked up at you, still flushed, eyes dark with something and caught-off-guard. “You’ve mentioned,” he says sarcastically.

With a gasp of indignation, you gave a soft slap on the leg where your hand was resting. “Don’t you build up an attitude with me, Matthew.

He just opened his mouth then shut it, clearly not knowing how to feel about you saying his full name like that. He liked it, so he decided right then.

Before he could respond, you kissed him again—this one short, smiling against his mouth, before sitting back and curling into his side like nothing had happened.

Matt took a full sixty seconds to reboot. Then quietly—carefully—he draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in closer.

You didn’t say anything. You just rested your head back on him and let yourself melt.

After a couple moments, Matt shifted carefully, adjusting so he was lying down on the long couch. You moved with him, settling against his side, your body fitting naturally against his. The movie kept playing, the flickering light casting soft shadows across the room.

You blinked slowly, your breathing evening out as sleep started to claim you— you were a pretty early sleeper for people your age.

Matt’s eyes stayed on the screen for a moment, but his attention quietly drifted to you. The peaceful way your eyelashes fluttered, the slight rise and fall of your chest—it was like watching something fragile and beautiful.

When the movie’s credits began to roll, Matt reached out without a sound, grabbing the remote from the edge of the couch. His fingers hovered for a second, then he pressed the button to turn off the TV.

The room went dark except for the soft glow of streetlights outside.

Matt didn’t move, just held you a little tighter as you slipped fully into sleep, a small smile tugging at his lips.

First Time You Made it Official

The sun dipped just below the horizon, the sky swirling with peach and lavender as Matt pulled up outside your place. He jumped out of the car, already rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Ready?” he asked, flashing that awkward-but-sincere smile you were already hooked on.

You nodded, sliding into the passenger seat. The car smelled faintly of popcorn and something sweet — maybe.

Matt started driving, stealing glances at you from the corner of his eyes. “So, this is kind of a last-minute thing,” he muttered, voice a bit shaky. “I hope you don’t mind.”

You grinned, heart fluttering. “I love surprises.”

The city lights blurred past as you drove out of town, the orange glow of the sunset melting into the cool blues of twilight.

Finally, you reached a quiet hilltop overlooking the drive-in. Matt parked, and you both sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the engine.

“Okay,” he said, suddenly breaking the quiet, “close your eyes.” 

You raised an eyebrow but obeyed, heart thudding in your chest. Slowly, you heard him walk around to your side of the passenger side of the car and open the door, holding both of your hands to guide you out, then eventually leading you around the car. You were grinning so hard it hurt. Then, he let go and you hear a little click and switch.

“Alright, open ‘em,” Matt whispered.

You blinked, and the trunk was wide open, spilling out a soft golden light from twinkling string lights Matt had strung up with obvious care. Cushions and blankets were arranged in a cozy nest, and a spread of snacks — popcorn, chocolate, fruit — sat invitingly in the center.

Right there, taped to the inside of the trunk lid, was a sign written in his handwriting:

“Can I be yours?”

Your breath hitched. You looked up at Matt, who was now practically glowing with nervous hope. 

“So…?” he said, voice cracking just a little.

You didn’t hesitate. You threw yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing your face into his neck.

Matt stumbled backward, laughter bubbling up as he caught you effortlessly.

“Matt!” you yelled with a squeal, leaning back and pressing a passionate kiss into his lips.

“Is that a yes,” he said, voice rough with emotion against your lips.

You pulled back just enough to smile, then leaned in once again, kissing him slow and soft, full of all the excitement and relief and warmth you’d both been holding back.

The world shrunk to just you two, the twinkle lights glowing softly, the sound of the movie starting in the background, and the feeling that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Matt. Of course.” 

First Time you Gave him a Nickname

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a stack of old vinyl records you’d pulled out from her collection. The soft crackle of the music filled the room.

You smiled and handed Matt one. “You always pick the best ones, baby.”

Matt froze. His face went bright red, and before he could stop himself, he covered his face with his hands.

“Wait... did you just call me… baby?” His voice was shaky and muffled.

You laughed, watching him squirm. “Yeah. So?”

He peeked through his fingers, cheeks burning hard. “I—uh—didn’t expect that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find words. “It’s… nice, I guess. Um. Um, sorry..”

You reached out and tucked a stray hair behind his ear, then leaned in and kissed him.

Matt’s eyes went wide. His heart was racing so fast he thought it’d jump out. He froze for a second, then kissed her back, shy and slow.

When they pulled away, his face was even redder.

“That was… really nice, baby,” he muttered, half embarrassed, half smiling.

You grinned. “See? You’re getting used to it.”

First Time You Cried in Front of him

You’d been at it for hours—highlighting, rewriting notes, flipping through textbooks—trying to force your brain to understand the material that just wouldn’t click. Your desk was a chaotic mess, pages strewn about like a storm had passed through. The clock ticked on, but all you felt was your chest tightening, breaths growing shorter, and the walls closing in.

Matt was lying on your bed nearby, earbuds in, half-asleep, his music washing over him like a soft wace. But then, even without hearing you, he noticed the subtle change—the way your fingers trembled, the catch in your breath.

Involuntarily, you gasped your vision swimming. Panic swelled fast and fierce. You couldn’t do it. You were going to fail your midterms. You couldn’t do it.

Matt was up instantly, heart pounding. He yanked the earbuds out, voice gentle but urgent. “Hey, hey, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

You couldn’t answer. You were drowning in your own panic, breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Matt closed the distance, taking your shaking hands in his. “Okay. We’re gonna slow this down. Just breathe with me. In—hold it—out. Again.”

You tried, but your lungs felt tight, like air was slipping away.

Without hesitation, he guided you away from the desk. “Come sit with me. You’re not alone.”

You let yourself be pulled onto the bed, curling into him as he wrapped his arms around your trembling frame. His chest was steady beneath your head, his heartbeat a quiet anchor against your chaos.

“I’m right here,” he whispered, voice low and soft. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

The warmth of his touch, the calm in his voice—it started to pull you back, like a lifeline.

You felt yourself start to relax, breaths becoming deeper, less frantic.

Matt’s fingers traced slow circles on your back. “You’re okay. You’re so brave for even letting me see this.”

You pressed your face against his shirt, embarrassed but too exhausted to care. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like this. I’m just... so tired. And I don’t get it. I’ve been trying so hard. I feel like fucking shit, Matt.”

Matt kissed the top of your head. “You don’t have to explain. I’m not going anywhere.”

He tightened his hold, voice thick with care. “I hate that you’re hurting. But I’m proud of you for pushing through.”

A shaky breath escaped you, comfort blooming in the quiet room. “Thank you... for being here.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that makes your chest ache in the best way. “Always. Now, how about we put those books away for tonight? I’ll even let you pick the movie. Something dumb, something that makes us laugh.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling a flicker of light through the panic haze. “Yeah... I’d like that.”

Matt brushed a stray tear from your cheek and whispered, “You’re the strongest person I know, y/n, don’t you forget it. And with that, he planted a firm kiss on your lips.

First I love you

It was a lazy Sunday. You were sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, eating fruit straight from the container while he lay next to you on his stomach, sketchbook open in front of him. The soft hum of music drifted from his speaker, blending with the late afternoon light that poured in through his window.

You popped a grape into your mouth and looked over at what he was drawing. “Is that supposed to be me?” you teased, leaning closer. “Why are my eyes so big?”

Matt huffed. “They’re not big, they’re expressive. It’s artistic exaggeration.”

“You just called me cartoonish.”

He glanced up, grinning. “Well, you’re my favorite cartoon character. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you echoed, smirking.

He returned to his sketching, but you saw the smile that lingered at the corner of his mouth. You stretched out beside him, stealing one of his pencils just to annoy him. He didn’t stop you.

You were halfway doodling nonsense in the margin of his page when he muttered, casually and without looking up, “God, I love you.”

You froze.

So did he.

He blinked. Then his pencil dropped. And slowly, like his brain was catching up with his mouth, he turned to look at you. His eyes were wide.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, already flushing pink. “Wait. I didn’t— I mean, I didn’t mean it like—well I did but—” He sat up too fast and knocked the sketchbook off the bed. “I wasn’t gonna say it like that, not now, I—ugh—”

“Matt,” you said softly.

He ran a hand through his hair, now fully red in the face. “I was gonna wait for, like, a perfect moment. Maybe flowers? Or a sunset? Not while you’re bullying me over eyeballs—”

“Matt.”

He peeked at you through his fingers. “Yeah?”

You reached for him and held his face gently. “I love you too.”

He blinked again. “Wait... seriously?”

You nodded, smile growing. “Seriously.”

His whole body relaxed like he’d just exhaled a week’s worth of breath. “Oh thank god,” he said, then added in a rush, “I mean—not that I was worried. I mean, I was. But like—” He paused. “You love me?”

“I do.”

He grinned, giddy and dazed. “Sick.”

You laughed. “That’s your response?”

He shrugged, all flustered and glowing. “I panicked. But I’m really happy.”

Then he kissed you — not clumsy or rushed, but slow and sweet, like he finally knew where he stood.

And where he stood was exactly where he wanted to be.

First Makeout Sesh

It started like any other night. You were sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, half-watching a movie while your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your hoodie—his hoodie that you’d stolen weeks ago. He was beside you, leaning against the headboard, looking very boyfriend-coded in a black tank top and sweats, hair still slightly messy from earlier. 

His glasses were set to the side of his dresser, and he had that slight stubble that you just loved.

You weren’t really paying attention to the movie. Not when he kept tracing soft patterns on the side of your waist, not when he looked over and smiled like that—all shy and soft and so obviously in love.

At some point, you climbed into his lap.

It wasn’t planned. You were just tired, or at least that was your excuse. He blinked up at you, wide-eyed, his hands hovering near your waist like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch.

“You okay?” he asked, voice a little breathier than usual.

You leaned in, brushing your nose against his. “More than okay.”

And then you kissed him.

It started soft, familiar. You’d kissed before—quick, sweet pecks, slow moments on quiet afternoons. But this one deepened fast. You tilted your head, one hand sliding into his hair, and Matt made the softest sound—half gasp, half sigh—against your mouth.

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it.

His hands settled on your hips, tentative at first. You shifted a little, straddling him properly, and his breath hitched hard.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me,” he mumbled against your lips, cheeks flushed pink.

You smiled. “You like it.”

His eyes fluttered shut when you kissed down the side of his jaw, your lips grazing the edge of his throat. His hands gripped you tighter, like he needed to hold on to something.

“God,” he whispered, “you’re unreal.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his lips were red and kiss-bruised, hair all messed up from your fingers. He looked completely dazed.

You let your fingers trace the line of his collarbone, just barely under the tank top strap, and he whimpered.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice cracking with pure embarrassment. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

“—you’re so cute when you’re desperate,” you interrupt, brushing your nose against his again.

Matt looked humiliated and so turned on. “That’s so unfair.”

But he didn’t stop kissing you. Didn’t stop pulling you closer, as you both held onto each other and made out in a rhythm.

“y/n…” he said, voice a little wrecked already.

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

“I—um.” His hands flexed on your hips again, eyes darting down to where your bodies pressed together. “You should probably stop,” he mutters with embarrassment. 

You smile and begin placing kisses down his neck. “Why?”

“B-because,” he tries to say, until you fully sit down onto his lap, making contact with his bulge. He groans, totally forgetting what he was trying to bring up.

“Fuck— this feels like a dream.”

You smirked. “Do your dreams usually include me grinding on you?”

Matt choked. Literally choked on air.

“Jesus Christ—” He threw his head back against the headboard, face flaming. “You’re evil.”

But he didn’t stop you when you rolled your hips, just barely.

He whimpered. A real, honest-to-God whimper. And it made you grin so wide you had to hide it against his neck.

“Y-you can’t just do that,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Why not?” you murmured, kissing just below his ear. “You like it.”

His hands slid up your back now, hesitant but eager. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

“Good.”

You kissed him again—hotter, more open-mouthed. This time he gave in completely. He let you take control, lips parting under yours, breath stuttering as your tongues brushed. His hands were gripping the hem of your hoodie like he was afraid he might float away if he let go.

You pulled back just long enough to tug the hoodie off. Matt’s eyes widened like he’d just short-circuited.

“You’re so—” he started, then stopped, then swallowed. “I don’t even have words.”

You leaned back in, resting your forehead against his. “You don’t have to talk, baby. Just feel.”

That got a sound out of him that went straight to your stomach. He kissed you again, this time with urgency, with need. His hips shifted under yours involuntarily, and you both gasped at the friction.

You dragged your nails gently up his arms, feeling the tension there. “Tell me what you want,” you whispered.

Matt shook his head, dizzy. “I don’t—I.”

Then you heard a knock at the door.

Matt froze.

You both stared at each other, breath caught, hearts hammering. Another knock. Louder.

“Bro!” a voice called. “Open up—we brought snacks!”

Matt groaned like it physically hurt. He flopped back against the headboard, arms thrown over his eyes in pure agony. “No. No, no, no. I forgot Chris and Nick were coming.”

You laughed—quiet and breathless—as he muttered a string of hushed curses.

“They’re literally the worst,” he whispered, like he was being hunted. “Fuck m’sorry.”

You leaned down, still straddling him, brushing a kiss against his jaw. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait.”

He whined. You loved it.

The knock came again, followed by a chorus of his brothers’ voices arguing about who was supposed to text ahead. Matt looked at you with the most tragic expression. 

“Another day, baby,” you add. With a groan he tries to subtly tuck himself into the waistband of his sweatpants without you seeing, then begins trudging downstairs to open the door.

First Fight

It started with something small. 

Matt had been quiet all night. You’d asked if everything was okay once, twice—he just nodded and said he was tired. But when you made a joke at dinner, one you’d made a hundred times before, he barely reacted. And when he did, it was sharp.

“God, do you always have to say stuff like that?”

You blinked. “What?”

He sighed. “Just forget it.”

“No,” you said. “Say what you mean. You’ve been weird all night.”

“Maybe I’m tired of always feeling like a joke to you.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open. “Matt, what the hell are you talking about?”

He rubbed his eyes, clearly frustrated. “You tease me all the time, y/n. And I usually don’t care. But lately it just—it feels like you don’t take me seriously. Like I’m just some soft guy who can’t handle anything.”

Your chest tightened. “That’s not true. I—I tease you because I like you. You know that.”

“I thought I did,” he said quietly.

Silence stretched. You felt it like a pressure in your ribs, heavy and awful.

“N-no, no baby,” you whisper, eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that,” you said, voice smaller now. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Because I didn’t want to seem pathetic,” he mumbled.

That cracked something open in you. “You’re not pathetic, Matt. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

He wouldn’t look at you. Just sat there, hands clenched in his lap, trying not to crumble.

You crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “I’m sorry. If I made you feel like you’re not enough—God, I’m so sorry.”

His eyes finally met yours. “I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like… not just the flirty version. The me version.”

“You matter,” you said, pressing your hand to his chest. “This version. All of it. I see you, Matt.”

His face crumpled, just a little. And then you were hugging, both of you holding on too tightly, too long, like the space between your bodies had been unbearable.

“I’m sorry Matt,” you whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I swear I will.”

After a long time of you laying in his arms, he says into your hair. “I forgive you, baby.”

First time you cared for him while he was sick

Matt did not look good.

The second you opened the door to his apartment—code he’d barely managed to text you—you found him lying sideways on the bathroom floor, half-conscious, sweaty, and pale like a ghost with heatstroke.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, rushing to kneel beside him. “Matt?”

He groaned in response, one hand feebly waving in the direction of the toilet. “I threw up. A lot. I think I’m dying.”

You ignored the dramatics and brushed his damp hair back. He was burning up, forehead hot under your fingers, skin clammy and gross in a way that made your heart squeeze with worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?”

He mumbled something unintelligible and dramatically buried his face in your lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

“You’re literally on the bathroom floor,” you said. “I want to be bothered for that.”

You helped him up slowly, got him into a clean shirt, and tucked him onto the couch with a cold compress and a puke bucket beside him. The whole time, he just let you do it, too weak to argue, blinking up at you like you were a hallucination sent by some benevolent god.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand as you went to get him water.

“I’m getting you electrolytes, drama queen,” you whispered, kissing the back of his hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You set up camp with him after that—cool cloth on his forehead, hand in his hair, rubbing his back every time he groaned or whimpered. He kept mumbling delirious things like "You're so nice to me" and "I feel gross and you still look at me like that?"

At one point, as you were carefully helping him drink tiny sips of water, he whispered hoarsely, “If I die, tell my brothers I love them, but tell you… you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You snorted. “Shut up and sip. You’re not dying. You just had gas station sushi.”

He groaned into the pillow. “I’m never eating fish again.”

You kissed his clammy temple anyway. “You’ve got the immune system of a Victorian child. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

He sighed deeply, miserable but comforted, and whispered something like “Love you” before passing out halfway through. You stopped for a second, looking at his flushed, peaceful face, and tucked the blanket higher on his shoulders.

“Love you too, dummy,” you whispered. “Even when you’re disgusting.”

You stayed the whole night, checking up on him every hour and replacing his cold compress. Just in case.

First Time

It started with a kiss.

Not the rushed kind, or the one pulled between jokes and giggles—this one was different. Slower. Hungrier.

You’d been curled up beside Matt on his bed, talking about nothing. His glasses had slid slightly down the bridge of his nose, his curls soft from running his fingers through them all evening. You leaned over to fix them, and his eyes flicked to your lips instead.

“Can I…?”

You nodded before he finished, and the kiss melted into something deeper. Something needier.

His hands trembled a little when they found your waist. Yours weren’t much steadier.

You pulled away, forehead resting against his, eyes searching his face. “We don’t have to,” you whispered. “But I kind of… want to. With you.”

Matt's eyes went wide—so wide you half-thought he’d forgotten how to blink.

“I—I want to too,” he said, voice shaking, cheeks already flushed. “I’ve just never—well, I mean I have, but not like… not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… with someone I actually care about. Who makes me feel like I’m not gonna mess everything up.”

You leaned in and kissed him again—gently this time. “You’re not messing anything up.”

His breath caught when you shifted, pressing closer.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded too fast, then stuttered, “Yeah—I mean, yes. I just—can’t—um, function when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” you asked, already smiling.

He covered his face with his hands, groaning. “Hot. Okay? You’re so fucking hot. This is unfair.”

You giggled, reaching to tug his hands away. “Then I’ll go slow.”

And you did.

You kissed along his jaw, his neck, his collarbone—feeling the way he trembled beneath you. Every time your lips brushed his skin, a soft, surprised sound escaped him, like he couldn’t believe it was real.

You let your fingertips trail down his chest, pausing just above his waistband.

Matt looked like he might self-destruct.

“Still okay?” you asked.

He nodded, biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.”

You kissed him again. “I won’t.”

Then you eased your shirt over your head.

He made a strangled noise and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then opened them again—like he was bracing himself for a heart attack and couldn't not look at you.

“You’re literally glowing,” he whispered. “How are you real?”

You took his hands and pressed them to your bare waist, guiding him.

He stared, completely flushed, completely in awe.

You straddled his lap slowly, carefully, watching the way his breath hitched as your bare skin met his. He was already half-hard in his boxers, twitchy with nerves, eyes flickering everywhere—your eyes, your chest, your lips, back to your eyes like he was overwhelmed but desperate to see everything.

“You okay?” you asked, brushing a hand through his hair.

He nodded, breathless. “Y-yeah. Just… you’re on top of me. And you’re, um. Naked.”

You leaned in, nipping his jaw. “And you like it?”

His laugh was breathy, nervous. “I love it. It’s just—my brain isn’t working. You’re so pretty. I don’t know where to put my hands.”

You took his wrists gently, guiding one to your hips and one over your breast. “Here’s a good place to start.”

He groaned, head tipping back against the pillows. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You kissed down his neck, lingering just below his ear. “You’ll survive.”

Your fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers, giving him a moment. He nodded again—flushed, trembling, but sure. You helped him out of them, and when he was finally bare beneath you, he looked like he might actually pass out.

You paused just to look at him—legs spread slightly, cheeks red, chest rising fast. You let your fingers trail down his stomach, feather-light.

“You're beautiful like this, Matt.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, like he couldn’t handle hearing it. “You make me feel like I am.”

You leaned in again, kissing him slow. “I want you to feel good. You ready?”

He nodded again, a little more desperate this time. “Please. Just… tell me what to do.”

You reached for the lube and condom you'd stashed earlier, heart thudding at the way his thighs tensed under your touch. Once everything was ready, you settled over him, guiding him to your entrance.

“Go slow?” he asked, voice cracking.

“Always,” you whispered.

And when you sank down onto him, inch by inch, his hands gripped your hips like they were the only things keeping him tethered to the earth. He let out the softest, most broken moan you'd ever heard—like pleasure punched the air right out of him.

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “y/n, I—holy shit, you feel so good.”

You gave him a moment to adjust, and when he opened his eyes—dazed, overwhelmed, reverent—you started to move.

“Y’so warm,” he gasped “n’tight, oh fuck.”

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rough. It was messy, breathy, and achingly sweet. His hands roamed your waist like he didn’t know what to hold onto. He whined every time your hips rolled just right, whispered your name like a prayer, told you over and over how good it felt.

“I don’t wanna come yet,” he whimpered. “I wanna stay inside you forever.”

“Don’t worry baby, we’ve got forever.”

And when he finally did come—loud, gasping, eyes wide and pupils blown—you leaned down and kissed him through it, riding him slowly, comforting, grounding him as he trembled beneath you, whimpering into your ear.

After, his hands curled around yours like a lifeline.

“You okay?” you asked softly, brushing sweat-damp curls from his forehead.

He was still catching his breath, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could feel it. The little twitch of his hips. The subtle way his fingers dragged up your back. The soft, broken whisper of your name.

You pulled back to look at him. His face was flushed, hair curling damply around his ears, pupils still wide and glassy.

“You okay?” you asked again, gentle.

He nodded, but his voice came out hoarse. “Y-Yeah. I’m just… I still want you. Like, really bad. Is that normal?”

You smiled, brushing his lips with yours. “Hmmm. Maybe.”

Matt blinked up at you. “We can keep going, right? I-I know I came already but—” His voice cracked, and he squirmed under you, breath hitching as his soft cock twitched against your thigh. “You’re still hard,” you said softly.

He covered his face with both hands. “I know, I don’t even—like—how?? Fuck you’re ruining me.”

You gently pulled his hands away. “In a good way?”

“In the best way,” he mumbled. “Please keep going.”

And you did.

You kissed your way down his chest, making him squirm and gasp, mouth trailing over sensitive skin and leaving flushed marks behind. 

When you took him into your mouth—half-hard, still twitching—he let out the most pathetic sound you'd ever heard.

“F-fuck, you don’t have to—oh my god—”

But you wanted to. And the way he bucked slightly, trying not to, hands twisting the sheets like he was afraid to touch you, made you feral.

You pulled back a bit, letting it pop out of your mouth to speak. “Matt, you’re allowed to be greedy.”

“I’m not! I swear, I just—” He whimpered again as your tongue dragged over the head. “God, I am greedy. I don’t care. I want you so bad it hurts.”

When he got hard again, fully and shamelessly, you moved slowly, sliding back on top of him, watching his face as you sank down again. This time he cried out, high and breathy, thighs trembling under your hands.

“It’s so fucking much,” he panted. “It’s—it’s too much—but don’t stop—please don’t stop—”

You rocked your hips, slower this time, just enough to make him arch into you.

“Tell me what you need.”

“You,” he gasped. “Just you. All of you.”

So you gave it to him.

You took your time, moving against him with slow, grinding rolls. His eyes fluttered, and he gripped your hips like he was trying not to float away.

He got vocal—filthy in a way that surprised even him. Whimpers, moans, broken phrases between gasps:

“Y-you feel so good inside, holy shit—” “I can’t believe this is real—” “Please, I’m gonna—gonna come again—”

And when he did, he almost cried.

His body tensed, shuddering, then collapsed into you, face buried against your chest, mumbling soft things you couldn’t quite make out. You held him through it, kissing his forehead as he shook in your arms, your own pleasure humming hot under your skin.

You were just on the brink as well, but you could tell he needed a break.

“I wanna make you feel good too,” he whispered.  “Lie back. Please. Let me try.”

You blinked. “You just came twice. You need to rest. ”

“I know,” he whispered. “But I didn’t even get to touch you properly. And I—I think I’ll explode if I don’t.”

You smiled softly. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he cut in. “You made me feel like my whole body was on fire and full of stars at the same time. I want to do that for you. Or at least try.”

Well. How could you say no to that?

You laid back slowly, watching him move between your legs—awkwardly at first, like he wasn’t sure where to put his knees. His cheeks turned scarlet when he got a full view of you, mouth parting in a silent “oh my god.”

You reached for his hair, tugging lightly. “Breathe, baby.”

“I a-am,” he said, sounding like he absolutely was not. “You’re just—you’re so—how am I supposed to—” His sentence died as he kissed your thigh, soft and reverent. “Tell me what to do.”

You guided him at first. Where to put his mouth. How to use his tongue. What kind of pressure felt good. And oh, Matt was a quick study.

Tentative at first—gentle, nervous licks, like he was afraid to go too far. But once you let out that first real moan, he got brave. Gripped your hips tighter. Groaned into you when you said his name. Got messier. Needier.

“Right there?” he gasped when your back arched. “Like that?”

You nodded breathlessly, thighs trembling around his head.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You taste so good. Why didn’t anyone tell me this would be like—like this?”

He buried his face in you after that, moaning softly, like he was the one getting off. His entire face was trying to push further and further into your sopping pussy, licking up every juice you were letting out.

His nose nudged just right, his tongue flicked faster, and when you clenched his hair and gasped out his name

He groaned loudly.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, hot and overwhelming, and Matt just held on, staying there through every aftershock, every twitch, like he refused to come up until he was sure you were completely undone.

When he finally pulled back, his face was soaked down to his chin, lips kiss-swollen, and his smile was dazed and proud.

“I did okay?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You reached down, “M-matt, that was,” dragging him up to kiss you. “Insane.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a muffled, exhausted, “Best. Day. Ever.”

First time you got jealous

It started off fine.

You and Matt had come to a small get-together at a friend’s apartment—just a cozy group of people, some music, snacks, and low lighting. At first, you were curled up next to him on the couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder, the two of you in your own little bubble.

And then she showed up.

You didn’t know her name. You didn’t want to know her name. All you knew was that she laughed a little too hard at Matt’s joke’s, and she touched his arm a little too long when she complimented his hair.

Matt didn’t even notice. He was just being his usual charming self—smiley and sweet, answering her questions like she wasn’t clearly flirting with him while you sat literally two inches away.

You excused yourself to get a drink. More for emotional support than hydration.

When you came back, she was still there, still giggling, and Matt—Matt was smiling— AND blushing, and it was the smile he gave you when you made him laugh.

You plopped down next to him and not-so-subtly rested your hand on his thigh. Matt glanced down and smiled at you, oblivious.

“Hey, you good?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

“I’m great,” you replied, a little too cheerily. Then you turned to the Flirt and said, “Do you need something, or were you just raised to hover?”

Matt choked.

The girl blinked, gave you a weird look, then mumbled something about checking on a friend and walked away. You watched her go like you were manifesting a trapdoor beneath her.

Matt blinked at you, wide-eyed. “Babe…”

You turned to him. “What?”

“She was just being friendly.”

You scoffed. “Friendly? Matt, she was one compliment away from climbing into your lap.”

Matt blinked a few times, still recovering from your snark. “I really think you’re overreacting. She wasn’t flirting.”

You stared at him. “Matt. She touched your arm three times. I counted.”

“She was just... touchy,” he said, weakly. “Some people are just like that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you blushed.”

Matt flushed even more. “I didn’t blush.”

“You so blushed. It was your flustered blush too, not the ‘it’s hot in here’ blush. The one that means you’re shy and you liked the attention.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated.  “No-But I wasn’t trying to like it—”

“Oh my God,” you said, pulling your hand from his thigh and crossing your arms. “You did like it.”

Matt looked stricken. “No! That’s not what I—babe, no. I didn’t like her, I liked—it’s just—you weren’t there and someone was being nice and it caught me off guard, and it didn’t mean anything, I swear.”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared straight ahead, jaw tight.

Matt groaned and scooted closer. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.” When you didn’t, he gently cupped your jaw and turned your face toward his. His expression was soft, earnest. “I swear, I didn’t even realize it until you pointed it out. And if it made you feel even a little bit bad, I’m sorry. I would never want you to think anyone could even come close to you. I’m yours. Fully.”

You tried not to melt. Failed.

“…You liked the attention a little bit,” you muttered.

“I swear I didn’t. But like your jealousy? Way hotter. Honestly, if you’d actually fought her I would’ve passed out.”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned in anyway, bumping your nose against his. “Next time someone flirts with you, I’m not warning her. I’m swinging.”

Matt grinned, brushing a kiss to your lips. “Got it. I’ll start wearing a “I have a girlfriend” shirt to social events.”

“You think I won’t get you one?”

He kissed you again, and this time, there was no one else in the room. Just him, you, and the quiet satisfaction of winning.

First time he made you squirt

You were tangled up in your sheets again, the low hum of your fan spinning overhead, the room dim with only the lazy spill of golden-hour light pushing through the curtains. Matt’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your sleep shirt, his eyes darting from your collarbone to your lips, then away again, like the sight of you was too much all at once.

“You’re looking at me weird,” you teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Matt flushed. Flushed. That deep pink that crawled from his ears to his cheeks, like you’d caught him doing something scandalous. He groaned softly and buried his face in your neck.

“I’m not,” he mumbled into your skin. “You just—look really pretty right now.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair.

“Right now?” you echoed, grinning. “Not, like, always?”

He whined, lifting his head just enough to glance at you. “Stop. You know what I mean.” He was smiling, but his voice had that hushed, almost whimpery quality it got when he was overwhelmed. You loved it. Loved the way his hands were already slipping up under your shirt like he was asking permission without saying a word.

Matt made a small, needy sound and melted against you, his fingers still trembling just slightly as they traced along your ribs, then lower. When you pulled back to look at him, his pupils were wide, his lips parted.

You were already bare-chested, sitting up and straddling Matt’s lap, but he still looked overwhelmed.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured, smiling against his jaw.

“I’m not—” His voice cracked as you shifted against him. “Okay, yeah. Maybe.”

Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging gently. “You nervous?”

You smirked. “Good.”

Eventually, you flipped them over, guiding him to kneel behind you as you braced on your elbows. You heard his breath hitch when he got the full view. He wasn’t touching you yet—just looking, frozen like you were art he was scared to ruin.

“You can touch,” you teased, voice low and warm.

That broke the spell. Matt’s hands slid over your hips, tentative at first, thumbs brushing the dip of your lower back. You could feel him trembling again, but it didn’t stop him from leaning down and pressing the softest kiss to your spine.

Then another. And another.

His fingers trailed lower, between your thighs, and you let out a quiet gasp as he explored with slow, shallow strokes.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Feels good. Keep going.”

Matt obeyed instantly, licking his lips like he was trying to stay focused. You could hear his ragged breathing as he slid his fingers inside you—so careful, so hesitant. And when he felt you clench around him, he made the softest sound: “Oh my god…”

His fingers started to curl, slow and searching. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing—he just knew he wanted you to fall apart. That he loved hearing your breath catch, loved the way your thighs trembled the more pressure he added.

He plunged his fingers in and out, leaning down to place his lips around your clit and swirl his tongue around.

You gasped at the contact.

Matt froze. “Was that okay?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—just—don’t stop—”

He didn’t even think. He kept that same pressure, same rhythm, his other hand anchoring tight on your hip as you pushed back into his touch. He was panting now too, overwhelmed, lips parted like he was barely holding it together.

“Matt,” you choked out, “you’re—holy shit—don’t stop—”

It hit fast. A wave crashing through you, intense and blinding. Your body tensed—and then gushed.

Matt jolted as wetness sprayed onto his wrist and thigh. His mouth dropped open.

“What the—” He stared at his soaked fingers. “Did I—?”

You collapsed forward, breathing hard, too stunned to even speak. You’d never—ever—done that before.

Matt sat back on his heels, still blinking like he was in shock. His boxers were damp now. His arm was soaked. He looked wrecked.

“…Did I make you… squirt?” he whispered.

You huffed out a breathless laugh. “O-oh my god.”

He looked down at you like he’d just unlocked a cheat code. Still blushing. Still dazed. And maybe—just a little—proud.

“…That was insane,” he mumbled.

You could only nod, hips still twitching from aftershocks.

Almost hesitantly, he leans forwards and licks you, slurping up the juices.

Matt reached out, brushing his fingertips along your spine. “Can I… still be inside you?”

You turned your head, eyes heavy. “You better be.”

First Anniversary

You hear a soft knock before dawn, and when you open the door, Matt’s there— holding a small, slightly wild bouquet of flowers. They’re not fancy, but perfect. “Happy anniversary,” he says, cheeks pink, eyes bright but shy.

You smile, heart already doing that stupid flutter thing. “You’re early.”

He shrugs, grinning like he’s won something. “I wanted to surprise you. Today’s all planned. No backing out.”

You grab his hand, feeling the warmth that’s not just from the flowers. With a quick motion, he sweeped you around dramatically, kissing you while you leaned back all the way.

You let out a surprised giggle, then put your hands on either side of his face.

“I love you, baby,” you whisper.

His face turns pink and crinkles with joy. “I love you more.”

_______

He lets you change out of pajamas while he waits in the kitchen, and when you come out, he’s set up a little breakfast picnic on the floor: toast, strawberries, whipped cream, and a small thermos of your favorite drink. There’s even a playlist softly playing in the background—he made it himself, and it’s all songs that remind him of you.

You raise a brow. “You made this whole playlist?”

He flushes. “It’s kind of embarrassing. One of them has your name in the lyrics.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He actually smiles a little when you do that, then tries to play it cool and offers you a strawberry like that will make him less flustered.

After breakfast, he hands you a tiny envelope.

“Open it when I tell you,” he says mysteriously. “No peeking.”

Then he leads you outside, clearly trying to hide how excited he is. You walk to a small park you used to visit all the time when you first got together. There, under your favorite tree, is a little setup: two foldable lawn chairs, a sketchbook, and a small box of supplies.

“I thought… maybe we could draw each other.”

You waggle your eyebrows and grin. “Like one of your French girls?”

“No—!” His face flushes. “I—I mean if you want? I—!”

“I’m messing with you, Matt.” You’re laughing as you sit across from him, and the two of you draw, occasionally glancing up at each other and bursting into giggles.

Lunch is homemade—by him. He packed it himself: sandwiches with little hearts cut into the bread (yes really), a tiny note tucked under the tupperware that says “ur hot and I love you :)”

You keep the note.

In the afternoon, he takes you to a local art exhibit—something quiet and beautiful. You walk through slowly, sometimes holding hands, sometimes just letting your pinkies brush. He leans in close during one painting and whispers, “That one reminds me of the way you look when you’re sleepy.”

You turn to find him already looking at you.

“I’m so glad I met you.” you whisper.

He ducks his head with a smile. “Me too. You have no idea.”

As the sun starts to set, he finally lets you open the envelope.

Inside is a small card and a single pressed flower from the first bouquet he ever gave you.

On the back is a list: “Reasons I’ve loved you every day this year.” There’s 365 of them.

“I was gonna just write one,” he says, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “But then… I couldn’t stop.”

You fling your arms around him and don’t let go for a while.

That night, he cuddles you in bed, forehead pressed to yours, still pink when you say he’s the sweetest boy on earth. He mumbles something into your neck you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?” you whisper.

“I said I’m gonna love you for a lot more years.”

You kiss him again.

He kisses back— entirely, completely yours.

FINALLY.

It’s just after sunset when he takes your hand.

The sky is that kind of soft—streaked with violet and gold like it’s blushing for you—and there’s a quietness in the air that feels intentional. Like even the wind knows what’s coming.

“Come with me,” he says gently, fingers warm in yours.

You follow him up a familiar path—a small hill where the two of you used to come to watch the stars back when you were still unsure of what this was. It’s quieter now. Grown. Like both of you.

At the top, there’s nothing fancy. No flowers. No decorations. Just a soft, folded blanket, and a lantern that glows like candlelight in the middle. He lights it with a flick of his thumb and sits down, patting the space next to him.

You sit. And your heart starts thudding when you see he’s nervous.

Not shy nervous.

Trembling-hands, can’t-meet-your-eyes nervous.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Breathes in.

“I’ve been trying to plan the perfect way to tell you this,” he says, voice quieter than usual.

You tilt your head, completely obvious and confused. “Matt, are you good? You can tell me anything you know.”

He grins at that, but doesn’t look at you right away. He picks at the edge of the blanket instead, like he’s walking himself toward something.

“I know,” he says finally. “That’s kind of the problem. You make everything too easy. I had this whole dramatic thing planned. Flashy. Big. Public.” He glances at you. “You would’ve hated it.”

You snort. “Correct.”

He laughs again, but this time, his eyes flick to yours and hold. His hand slides over to yours, fingers curling between yours slow and deliberate.

“So I thought maybe I’d just take you here,” he says, “where it all started. Just us. The stars. A blanket. Like the first time you made fun of my hoodie and accidentally made me fall in love with you.”

You’re still grinning, still thinking this is just some sweet, nostalgic moment on a hill you both love. 

He shifts onto one knee.

You still don’t register it.

You’re smiling at him, waiting for the punchline, until you realize—

he’s still down.

And he’s pulling something out of his jacket.

Your heart stutters.

“Matt,” you say, a whisper.

“I didn’t want you to see it coming,” he says softly. “Because I want this to feel like how it’s always felt with you—sudden. And perfect. And exactly where I’m meant to be.”

He opens the box, and the ring inside catches the warm flicker of the lantern light.

You go still.

Completely, utterly still.

“I love you,” he says. No trembling. No hesitation. Just truth. “And I want to keep loving you. In every version of our life, every phase, every morning-after and fight and late-night grocery run I love you more than anything in this entire world, and I will spend the rest of my life for you, with you.”

A moment passes.

“Will you marry me?”

You stare at him.

Your hand is over your mouth. Your chest is a mess. There are tears in your eyes and you don’t even remember them starting.

“Are you—Matt, are you serious?”

He smiles—wide and boyish and a little cocky now. “Yeah. Been serious for a while.”

You’re grabbing his face and kissing him so hard you both fall sideways onto the blanket, the box somewhere between you, forgotten for now because—

“I love you I love you I love you,” you whisper again, voice breaking against his skin as you pepper kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, his mouth. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

He’s blinking up at you, stunned by the force of it. “Is that a yes?”

“YES!!” You shout it. “YES—of course it’s a yes—you insane, incredible, perfect man!”

He lets out a choked little laugh and finally gets the ring on your finger, both of you shaking, neither of you letting go.

“I was trying to be smooth,” he mumbles into your neck.

“You ambushed me,” you giggle back. “I didn’t see it coming at all.”

And he smiles, eyes bright, because your heart’s still racing, and your hands are still clutching his shirt, and you keep whispering—

“I love you I love you I love you,”

Like you’ll never get tired of saying it. And he’ll never, ever, ever get tired of hearing it.

a/n- if you got this far, I LOVE YOU!

i put my entire soul into this fic, and I am praying to every god that this doesnt flop and people are actually willing to read all 15,000 words.

if this does flop, i'm going to release each part as an au, bc i worked way too hard on this for people to not read it.

anyways thats day 1 of my special!!

comment to be added to taglist

[snekdood]

i love my gma but man I really wish she didn't take on Every Household Responsibility Ever growing up bc she did for a long time take care of my cat for me, which I think is partially why hes such a loud demanding asshole who thinks hes owed the world because she has a tendency to let people (and sub-sequentially animals) walk all over her .-.

[prokopetz]

So what about FATE? How is it not universal as an RPG?

The biggest non-universal dimension of FATE – at least in its modern incarnations – is that it has a very strong set of baked-in assumptions about the relationship between players and player characters.

This is something I've talked about in the past; to somewhat oversimplify, there are roughly four ways for a player in a tabletop RPG to relate to their character:

The Isekai Stance: I am my character, and my character is me. I'll have my character do whatever I myself would do if I happened to be, for example, an elf wizard.

The Actor Stance: I'm an actor, and my character is my role. I'll have my character do what I feel it would be psychologically realistic for them to do under the circumstances.

The Storyteller Stance: I'm a narrator telling a story, and my character is the co-protagonist of that story. I'll have my character do whatever I feel would make for the most interesting story.

The Gamer Stance: I'm a person playing a game, and my character is my playing-piece. I'll do whatever it takes to win.

This generally isn't a useful way to classify either players or games; games typically have weak baked-in assumptions about which stance their players will adopt, and to the extent that these assumptions are present, a game may make different default assumptions for different parts of play. A common set of assumptions is actor mode outside of combat and gamer mode in combat, for example.

FATE is, of course, an exception to the rule, in that it has very strong baked-in assumptions about what stance players will adopt toward their characters, and further assumes that play will occur at least mostly in this mode. The Fate Point economy that forms the core of the gameplay loop 100% assumes that you're going to be playing in storyteller nearly all of the time – the types of decisions it's asking players to make on a moment-by-moment basis are frequently straight up unintelligible from any other perspective.

This is a big part of why suggesting FATE because it can "do anything" can go over like a lead balloon: the folks making this suggestion aren't taking into account the possibility that a given group's players may not vibe with the system's assumptions about how players relate to their characters. Storyteller-mode-all-the-time is actually a fairly uncommon group play style, and it often seems that FATE fans don't realise this!

[whateverloomis]

🖤 Dilf!Billy Loomis x Dilf!Stu Macher x AFAB reader (Stepcest)

Here it is cuties, part two (part one) <33 The thirst for dilf!Billy and Stu is intense with this one. Hope y'all enjoy ;)

Important: The image of the dress is only to show what I described in the fic. It's not intended to set a specific body type for the reader.

Tag list: @toxicanonymity @lyl1pad @elmoispookie

Warnings: Stepfather!Billy Loomis, age gap (middle aged Billy and Stu. Reader in their 20s,) AFAB reader (they/them used,) predetermined outfit, cheating, alcohol consumption, weed use, fingering, p in v, oral (both receiving, masturbation, rough sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of teasing, revised: January'25

Word count: 2.1k

After two weeks of nearly getting caught fucking your stepfather on your mothers bed you thought it would serve as a lesson and it totally wasn't.

You hadn’t gotten the chance to have sex with Billy again but that didn’t stop you from brushing your hand over his crotch whenever you walked past him, and it sure didn’t stop him from hugging you from behind and giving your tits a few squeezes while you cooked before your mother walked in the kitchen. Also, why would you waste an opportunity to makeout with him on the couch during movie night while your mother was in the bathroom? You were playing with fire. Getting caught was a stone's throw away but neither of you cared..

The third week after your little adventure you found yourself annoyed as you set up the whole house for a work party your mother was hosting. It was her boss's birthday and since she’s the manager and employee with the biggest house it was basically a default that most activities happened at your place.

That’s also how you met Stu Macher…

It was around the time Billy and your mother started living together. There was a small get together out by the pool and you were inside serving yourself a much needed glass of wine. As you poured the drink Stu walked in to get himself a beer from the mini fridge.

You made brief eye contact with the man and didn’t make much of it until he walked over to the kitchen counter to grab a red solo cup.

“Aren’t you too young to be drinking?” he asked you jokingly, but you could tell it was more than a casual comment.

“I’m legal if that’s what you’re asking” you answered, sassy as ever.

Stu found your little attitude amusing and held the conversation a bit longer than intended.

“You’re a feisty one, huh?” he countered and chuckled.

You couldn’t help but smirk. The dimple that his smile revealed, his natural flirtiness and his goddamn height was a mixture that excited and peaked your interest.

“And that seems to interest you” you continued and he leaned against the counter.

“You caught me there” Stu said and took a swing of his beer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be outside with your work buddies?” you asked before taking a sip of your wine. The cool and tart taste soothed your body.

“To be honest with you, I’d rather be at my house but y’know, gotta pretend that I like these people to keep a good appearance at work” he answered and you nodded.

“Cheers to that” you said and clicked your glass with his beer bottle.

“You wanna get out of here?” Stu asked jokingly and hell, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he was dead serious about it.

“Why would I leave with a stranger?” you flirted and he smiled wide, those goddamn dimples on full display again.

“It’s Stu. Stu Macher” he said and looked out to the backyard as someone calling him.

“See you around, Stu” you closed the conversation and walked past him towards your room.

The man stared as you walked all the way to the hallway, raking his eyes all over your body. He would’ve taken you right then and there had it been another situation, and you sure as hell would’ve given in without hesitating. You even had a wet dream that same night about him fucking you on top of that kitchen counter…

As you arranged the bottles of liquor on that same counter, you remembered that moment and bit your lip at the memory. You even got wet at the thought and it enhanced as you felt Billy wrap his strong arms around your middle.

“I better not catch you drinking any of that tonight” he whispered in your ear and you pressed your ass against his crotch.

“Why? Am I getting in trouble if I do, Daddy?” you asked innocently and the man hissed.

“You’re getting fucked tonight if you keep teasing me like this” Billy replied while squeezing your waist.

“Can’t wait” you said and pushed your back against his chest, enough to move him and give you space to escape his grasp and walk to the backyard.

•

It was 11pm and everyone was tipsy enough to talk freely and be loud. You would be cooped up in your room having a solo smoking sesh if you didn't have entertainment. Two men to play around with. Billy and Stu, to be exact.

You decided to wear something provocative enough to get both of their attention throughout the night. A silk, olive green dress with thin straps and lower back cut.

You decided to go braless as well, your buds visible in an almost classy way. Underwear was out of the question too, easy access was your fun little secret. Even if you didn't get your way with any of the men of interest, at least you could fuck yourself with your favorite toy without the hassle of taking your clothes off.

Outside, you were leaning against the rail of the porch, just enough for your dress to hike up below your ass cheeks. A glass of wine in one hand and a vape in the other. You had a nice buzz coursing through your body and the cool air felt like a wave washing over you.

“Mind if I join?”

Behind you Stu was standing closer than expected. His button shirt had the sleeves rolled up and you couldn't help but look at his strong arms.

“Not at all” you answered, voice soft and inviting.

The man smirked and stood next to you; “Nicotine?” he asked, pointing at your vape.

You chuckled and shook your head no, “Weed. Want a hit?” you offered, which you rarely did but this was a special occasion.

“Sure,” he answered and took a hit from the device, releasing the smoke slowly.

You bit your lip at the sight, it looked hotter than it should've and you were already starting to grow wet between your legs. His proximity was enough to do so, but that sight really did it for you.

Little did you know, Billy was observing you from inside the house pretending to be involved in a conversation between 3 people. You caught his eyes and thought it would be fun to get him a little jealous and rile him up a bit.

As you made small talk with Stu, you got touchy with him on purpose as well as purposely bubbly and flirty, giggling and laughing loud enough for Billy to hear.

“You have the cutest laugh” Stu pointed out and you blushed, covering your mouth while you gasped, hitting his arm playfully.

“Having a good time?” Billy approached Stu and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing tightly.

Stu glared at him subtly before catching your stare. Both men were scanning your body, looking from head to toe shamelessly.

“A great time now that you joined us,” you said boldly and he chuckled.

Stu took note of your flirtiness, confirming what Billy shared about you two earlier that night…

“Wait, on your wife's bed?” Stu asked, laughing. Definitely interested in the whole situation.

“Yeah, that little cunt is to die for. Nearly ended up knocking them up.” Billy continued, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Damn, I'd do anything to get a piece of that.” Stu said while staring at you from a distance. Billy enjoyed the view as well and he definitely had to fuck you that night or else he'd go insane.

“We could tag team for sure. A little more alcohol and weed will do the trick.” Billy confirmed and the men were both set on fucking your brains out…

Which is exactly what happened.

You don't know how you ended up in your room with your stepfather and his best friend, but there you were, on your bed straddling Billy's lap, making out furiously while he groped your ass.

Stu was sitting on your office chair enjoying the view of your now hiked up dress. Booty on full display for him.

You moaned into Billy's mouth as you started to grind against his clothes cock, desperate to have him inside you.

“Fuck, you look so good for us.” Stu said while unbuttoning his jeans, his hard cock finally being released from being trapped in his pants. Of course he didn't wear underwear.

You shook your ass to tease him and Billy spanked you. A warning from his part.

“You save that little attitude for me” he said and you smirked, loving how possessive your stepdad behaved with you.

“I was just playing around, Daddy” you teased further and he pushed you off his lap, pinning you against the bed, his large hand reaching between your legs.

Billy used his middle and ring finger to rub your clit in circular motions. Ring finger decorated with its rightful marriage ring, of course. A sinful display.

He collected your slick from your entrance, dipping his fingers just enough before sliding them back up to your clit.

You were sensitive at the start of the night, but after the alcohol, weed, the teasing… fuck, you could cum just by Billy rubbing your most sensitive spot between your legs. He was borderline torturing you with his slow, methodical movements between your legs.

You ended up grinding against his fingers, trying to feel them deeper inside you but the man wasn't going to please you. No. He needed you to be desperate for him, and that you were.

Finally breaking, you grabbed Billy's hand and pushed his fingers inside you. The long, pathetic, whiny moan you released made both Billy and Stus cocks twitch. Your cute noises affected them the same way and that did it for the man above you. He turned you around and unbuckled his belt quickly, followed by the zipper. He didn't bother to lower his pants much and released his cock enough to bury himself inside your cunt. You were soaked and the stretch felt incredibly good, especially when he bottomed out.

Thank Gods he positioned you on all fours because Stu was right in front of you. He was pumping his cock at the same speed Billy thrust inside you. He imagined how good your cunt must feel around his 8 incher, and you shared the same thought.

“You're such a slut” Billy grunted and pushed your head against the mattress, “Fucking your stepfather again and letting his friend join?” he continued and this time he pulled your hair back, your head facing forward to meet Stus gaze once again, “Pathetic” Billy finished and you bit your lip before sticking your tongue out for Stu. You needed to feel him inside you too and the man understood your message clearly. He walked towards you, cock in hand and rested the tip on your tongue. You purposely drooled and felt him harden further at the sight. You knew exactly what you were doing and he did too.

In a second Stu slid his cock inside your mouth and thrust in unison with Billy. You were stuffed and it felt incredible from both ends. Your eyes rolled back on their own as you felt your orgasm building. You needed to cum and that night you sure as hell didn't want Billy to pull out, so you made sure you squeezed him good when you came.

Reaching under your pillow, you pulled out the vibrator you were using the night prior and placed it on your clit, hitting the perfect spot and combining both pleasure points. The way you squeezed Billy's cock while you were reaching your high made it impossible for him to hold back.

“Fuck baby, keep that up and I'll fill you up real good,” Billy moaned and you whined around Stus cock. The vibration of your voice nearly pushing him over the edge.

After a few more minutes you came around your stepfather's cock, moaning around Stus cock again as he came inside your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the rest dripping all over your bed.

Finally, Billy came and he didn't care about pulling out, much to your liking. He thrust hard enough for the skin on skin contact to echo around the room as he filled you up with his seed, both of you moaning and groaning non stop.

When he pulled out his cum dripped out of your cunt and he spread your thighs to get a good look, chuckling at the sight

•

“You're leaving?” You asked Stu, pouting.

“My wife is waiting for me, don't wanna get home too late.” He said while buckling his belt.

When the man looked up, Billy was crawling between your legs ready to clean his mess with his skilled tongue. Stu chuckled while fixing his hair with his large hands.

“Don't have too much fun without me” he said.

“Get out” Billy said, half serious, half playful before licking a stripe along your slit.

Stu was already getting hard and had to hide his half boner before walking out of your room.

[calypso-rt]

She fell first/He fell harder request (pretty please, you are my one and only writer I ride or die for) She’s your typical sweet shy kind reader kook, a jeans/t-shirt type, a friend of Sarah. He’s always ignored her though in favor of the extroverted sexy kook girls. She glows up a bit becoming more of a woman and dressing figure hugging (though not revealing. She’s still her and modest) and has decided to let go of Rafe, feeling stupid for just having a crush on someone who couldn’t care less about her. Though now she has his attention and he’s feeling some type of way being ignored/the bare minimum short polite conversation when she used to sneak glances at him at the house or find reasons to linger around him…..and he’s def not okay with guys talking to her…while he is glancing from afar with heartache…..and he’s def gonna follow when a guy leads her away from the party and make some heartfelt declaration. I WANT RAFE SIMPING AND BEING A MESS, CHASE HEEEER

-> A/N: i saw this and just HAD to start writing immediately. I love it so much thank you, anon! <3

worth the wait

-> Rafe x F!Reader

It started years ago, slow and quiet, like a secret you kept even from yourself.

You were there, always there, floating around the edges of his world like a soft breeze he never bothered to notice. A friend of Sarah’s, a Kook by default but never quite the type to demand attention.

You were the quiet one. The sweet one. The one who lingered in doorways when he was around, sneaking glances when you thought he wouldn’t see.

(He never did.)

Rafe Cameron had always been too busy looking at girls who weren’t you. The loud, sexy, confident ones who draped themselves over him like accessories, all sun-kissed skin and effortless flirtation.

They knew how to keep his attention. You? You were just the girl in plain clothing, flipping through paperbacks at parties and blending into the background.

You knew better than to hope. But that didn’t stop you from feeling.

Maybe that’s why leaving for the summer felt like such a relief.

A few months away, an out-of-state camp, something new. You didn’t have to be that girl anymore. The one waiting in the wings, the one hoping for a glance that would never come.

You threw yourself into everything: early morning hikes, late-night talks by the fire, pushing past the edges of your comfort zone until you weren’t just existing, but living.

And somewhere along the way, something shifted.

It wasn’t dramatic. You didn’t come back with a whole new personality, didn’t suddenly turn into one of them...the girls Rafe actually looked at.

But you carried yourself differently now. Stood a little taller. Laughed a little louder. You still wore the same clothes, but they fit you better somehow, hugging the quiet confidence you hadn’t realized you’d built.

Most importantly?

You came back over it.

Over him. Over the way you used to linger, over the ache of wanting something that was never yours to begin with. It was stupid, really. A crush. That’s all it had ever been.

And if Rafe Cameron had never noticed you before?

Well. That was perfectly fine.

Except… now he did.

It happens at a party, because of course it does.

Figure Eight, same crowd, same overpriced liquor being poured into red cups. The air is thick with salt and smoke, music thrumming under your skin as you weave through the sea of familiar faces.

Nothing’s changed.

Except you.

You’re not lurking on the edges anymore, not pretending to be invisible. You’re here because you want to be, because, for once, you don’t feel like an afterthought in your own story.

And Rafe?

He’s exactly where you left him, stretched out in one of the patio chairs, a beer dangling from his fingers, his attention flickering between his phone and the girl curled up next to him. Some blonde, barely dressed, draping herself over his arm like she’s claimed him.

It used to sting, seeing him like that.

Now, you don’t even spare him a second glance.

It’s almost funny, the way his head turns when you walk in: slow and deliberate, like he’s making sense of something his brain can’t quite process. You catch the moment it clicks. The flicker of recognition, the way his easy, lazy smirk falters for half a second before sliding back into place.

You’re laughing at something Sarah says, not even looking his way. Your shoulders back, your head held high, the warm glow of summer still clinging to your skin. And your eyes—God, your eyes—don’t even flicker in his direction.

Maybe it was the liquor running through his blood, but he gets up, the wasted blonde grumbling in frustration as she's pushed aside, and makes his way over to you, heart beating.

“Didn’t know you were back.”

His voice is low, smooth, the same drawl you’ve heard a million times.

You glance up at him, barely breaking stride as you move away from Sarah. “Got in a few days ago.”

His brows pull together. “And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Sarah knew.” You shrug, effortless, like you don’t notice the way his eyes drag over you, lingering at the way your clothes fit just right. Like you don't care.

(You do. A little. But you’d rather die than let him know that.)

Rafe scoffs, taking another step, cutting off your path like he expects you to stop for him. “Right. Sarah knew.” He tilts his head, watching you too closely. “Guess you’ve been busy.”

You smile, all polite disinterest. “Something like that.”

And then you walk away.

No nervous laugh, no lingering, no waiting to see if he watches you go.

(He does.)

And for the first time in his entire life, Rafe Cameron feels something sharp and unfamiliar twist in his gut.

It takes him a second to recognize it.

Regret.

...

Jealousy isn’t something Rafe Cameron feels.

At least, not like this.

You’re different now. And worse? You don’t seem to give a damn about him anymore.

And he feels it, really feels it, when he sees you laughing with some guy at the party.

Some Kook douchebag he barely remembers the name of, leaning way too close, making you smile in a way that burns in his chest.

His stomach twists. His jaw clenches. His grip tightens around his drink until the cheap plastic cracks in his hand.

“Dude.” Topper’s voice breaks through the red haze, amused and knowing. “You good?”

Rafe doesn’t answer. Just glares at the scene in front of him like he can will it to stop.

(You haven’t even looked at him once tonight.)

You used to... always used to. Sneaking glances, lingering, hoping he’d say something. And now? He could be furniture for all you care.

The guy leans in. Says something that makes you tilt your head back and laugh.

And Rafe sees red.

Before he can stop himself, he’s moving. Drink abandoned, footsteps quick and purposeful as he crosses the room.

By the time you realize he’s there, it’s too late.

“Didn’t think this was your type.”

His voice is smooth, dripping with something too sharp to be casual. You blink up at him, surprised, before your expression flattens.

“I didn’t know I had a type.”

Rafe snorts. “Yeah?” His gaze flicks to the guy beside you, unimpressed. “’Cause last time I checked, you weren’t into desperate losers.”

The guy bristles. “What’s your problem, Cameron?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Rafe—”

But he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s looking at him.

His jaw is tight. His fists curl at his sides. Everything about him screams territorial, and he hates that he feels like this, like he’s been replaced, like you were his to lose in the first place.

And then you do the worst thing imaginable.

You smile at the guy.

A small, amused, totally dismissive smile, like Rafe isn’t even here.

Like he doesn’t matter.

And that’s when it hits him like a truck, like a gut punch, like a sinking, spiraling, helpless feeling.

He’s screwed.

...

Rafe has never had to chase before.

But that’s exactly what he’s doing now.

It starts with little things. Small, almost unnoticeable gestures that shouldn’t mean anything but do.

One: The Jacket

It’s late. Too late to be sitting out by the beach in just a thin hoodie, but Sarah begged you to stay for one more drink, and you didn’t want to seem like the same girl who used to fade into the background.

You shiver once, just once, and suddenly, there’s a heavy weight settling over your shoulders.

“Rafe—”

“Don’t start,” he mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets like he didn’t just drape his very expensive hoodie over you without a second thought. “It’s cold.”

You glance up at him, suspicious, but he just stares out at the water like this isn’t a thing. Like this isn’t the first time he’s ever done something for you without being asked.

(You don’t give it back.)

Two: The Coffee

It’s early, and you’re buried in a book at a café, sipping on some overpriced latte when a familiar voice breaks your focus.

“You drink that caramel crap?”

You blink up, startled to find Rafe leaning against the table, a fresh cup in his hand. Before you can answer, he sets it down in front of you.

Your usual order.

The one you’ve always gotten. The one you thought no one ever noticed.

Your lips part, but Rafe just shrugs, casual. “Figured you might want a refill.”

Then he walks away.

You stare after him, utterly baffled.

Three: The Save

You weren’t going to call it a date.

Just a study session at the country club with some random Kook guy, an easy way to brush up on Econ while sipping from the drink in your hand.

But Rafe doesn’t see it like that.

He sees some guy sitting way too close, leaning over you like he has any right to, and before you can react, there’s a firm hand curling around your wrist.

“Come on,” Rafe says, voice low and final.

You blink up at him. “Excuse me?”

His grip isn’t tight, but it’s there. Protective. “We’re leaving.”

You scoff. “Since when do you get to decide where I—”

“Since you clearly don’t know when someone’s wasting your time.” He glares at the guy, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes. “Trust me. You can do better.”

And even though you should be annoyed, even though you should pull away, you don’t.

Because his fingers brush against your palm for half a second, just long enough for you to realize he’s trembling.

...

You’re not sure what you expected when Rafe finally snapped.

The party is long over. The music has faded, the bonfire burned down to glowing embers, and most of the guests have either gone home or passed out somewhere inside. But you stayed.

Not for him.

(Definitely not for him.)

You just like the quiet. The way the Outer Banks feels when it’s still. When the waves are the only sound, when the sky stretches wide and endless, littered with stars.

You tug your sleeves over your hands, exhaling softly as the wind rolls in off the water. You don’t expect to hear footsteps behind you.

But you do.

“We need to talk,” he says, voice low, words edged in something raw.

You sigh, shaking your head just enough to make a point. “We really don’t.”

His jaw clenches. “Yeah, we do.”

He sits down beside you on the sand, shoulders touching.

You cross your arms. “You can’t just—”

“Why won’t you look at me?” he blurts out.

You freeze.

He’s sitting too close, his expression a mess of frustration and something else. Something bordering on desperation.

You force out a scoff. “Rafe—”

“No, seriously.” His voice dips, softer now. “You used to. All the time.”

Your stomach flips. You hate that he remembers. You hate that he noticed now and not when it actually mattered.

“I grew up,” you say evenly. “I stopped wasting my time.”

Something flickers behind his eyes, and for the first time, he looks hurt.

“That what you think?” he murmurs. “That it was a waste?”

You swallow, shifting uncomfortably. “What else was it supposed to be?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he just stares at the ground, like he’s struggling to say whatever is clawing at his throat.

Then, finally

“I was an idiot.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

Rafe lifts his head, and the look on his face nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

Because he’s serious.

“I didn’t see it. See you.” He shakes his head, almost like he hates himself for it. “I don’t even know why. I think—I think I was too busy looking at the wrong things, and by the time I figured it out, you weren’t there anymore.”

Your chest tightens. “Rafe—”

“I notice you now,” he says, shifting closer. His voice is rough, uneven. “I notice everything. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you get nervous. How you always pick the raisins out of the trail mix after you play golf.”

Your breath catches.

His jaw clenches. “And I hate it.”

You rear back slightly. “What?”

“I hate that I had to lose you to see you.” He exhales, shaking his head. “I hate that some other guy gets to stand where I should have been this whole time.”

Silence.

Loud. Heavy.

You stare at him, heart hammering, every instinct screaming at you to run, because this is too much, too late, too Rafe.

So you shake your head. Swallow down the ache in your throat.

“I don’t...” You inhale sharply. “I don’t believe you.”

Rafe goes still.

You square your shoulders, trying to steady yourself. “You don’t get to do this, Rafe. You don’t get to ignore me for years and then suddenly—”

“I know.” His voice is hoarse. “I know. And I don’t expect you to believe me.”

You falter.

He shifts closer. Slowly. Cautiously. Like he’s afraid you’ll bolt.

“I just…” His voice drops to almost a whisper. “I just need you to know that I’m trying. That I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You swallow hard, pulse hammering.

Because for the first time, he looks at you: not like a challenge, not like something to win, but like something he’s afraid to lose.

And that scares you more than anything.

...

Epilogue: The Payoff

Rafe dedicated any free time he has to you and only you.

It's not really a conscious decision, there's nowhere else he'd rather be. He's utterly determined to prove to you the depth of his feelings.

You’re browsing the tiny, tucked-away bookstore downtown, running your fingers along the spines, when a book suddenly appears in front of you.

"Thought you might like this one," Rafe says, leaning against the shelf like he belongs there. Like he planned this.

You eye the book, one of your favorites. The same one you used to read at parties when he wasn’t paying attention.

Your lips twitch. "You think you can bribe me with books now?"

"Not a bribe." He shrugs, but there's a telltale smirk on his lips. "Just proving I do pay attention."

You try not to smile.

You fail.

Another time, it's late. You’re shivering outside after a bonfire, rubbing your hands over your arms, when Rafe suddenly pulls his hoodie over his head, a sliver of his toned abs showing, and drapes it over you.

You blink up at him. "Aren't you cold?"

"I'm fine," he says, but his arms are already breaking out in goosebumps.

You roll your eyes but tug the hoodie tighter around yourself. It smells like him: clean, warm, safe.

He doesn’t ask for it back.

You don’t offer.

He's forever jealous although he's resisted making a scene, knowing how much you hate it.

You’re laughing with JJ at a party when you feel it. The heat of his stare.

You glance over, meeting Rafe’s narrowed eyes across the room, his jaw tight, fingers tapping against the glass in his hand.

You arch a brow. Oh?

"Relax," JJ murmurs, amused. "Pretty sure your boyfriend is about to combust."

You don’t correct him.

And when Rafe gets just frustrated enough to stalk over, hand resting at the small of your back, tugging you just a little closer...

You call that a win.

But he's a bit impatient in his love for you.

It happens in his car.

You're laughing—really laughing—at something dumb he said, and he’s just watching you, like he’s trying to commit the moment to memory.

His hand lifts, fingers brushing against your jaw.

You stop laughing.

The air shifts. Your heartbeat stutters. His eyes flick to your lips, then back up.

But you pull away, grinning as you grab the door handle. "Not yet, Cameron."

His groan is tortured. "You’re actually killing me."

You smirk. "Good."

It takes time.

Little moments. Soft gestures. Proof that this isn’t just some fleeting fascination. That he’s all in.

And when you finally kiss him—really kiss him...

He swears under his breath, pulling you in like he’s terrified you’ll change your mind. Like he’s spent years waiting for this and refuses to waste another second.

His hands frame your face, his lips desperate and sure all at once.

When you finally break apart, breathless, he presses his forehead against yours, grinning like an idiot.

"You’re mine now," he murmurs, voice thick.

You smile.

"Yeah, Rafe." Your fingers curl into his hoodie. "I’m yours."

As if you weren't always.

[zyafics]

GIRL WITHOUT A TAIL | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing – Rafe x Mermaid!Female Reader

Summary — Rafe seeks Sarah's help about what to do with you.

Word Count — 1.7K

Content — fluff, protective!Rafe, Sarah acting like a bitch, and you acting clueless and afraid of everything except your mate, also suggestive ending. A continuum of this piece!

Dedication — to @nemesyaaa my own little mermaid, and @promiscuousg1rl for reading it first <3.

“She’s a mermaid?”

Rafe’s telling Sarah about his encounter with you. After taking you back to Tannyhill, you confide in the stranger—your mate—that you’re a mermaid. It’s your first time on land, with legs, and why you wobble with each step. But Rafe didn’t believe you.

However, the conviction in your voice had him second-guessing. The way you peer up at him with such innocent, enchanting eyes that blink with such naivety, he wanted to protect you with all the fibers of his being. He felt like he was being sucked into a trance, not thinking straight, that he sought out a secondary opinion.

Well, more like that she forced him to tell her.

Because Sarah didn’t see a helpless woman who needed Rafe’s help. She saw a stranger, walking around the estate, barely wearing any clothes, except for a half-assed outfit strung together from her brother’s closet.

“Have you gone insane?” Sarah snaps at Rafe, her tone dripping with disbelief. “A mermaid? The fairytales Dad used to tell us about when we were kids?”

Rafe feels insane for believing it.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Rafe declares, “But that’s what she told me.”

Sarah blows out a stream of air, shaking her head. “Seriously, Rafe. What type of women are you sleeping with?”

“I’m not sleeping with her,”

“Yeah, because being naked is a default setting,”

“I found her like that,” Rafe hisses at his sister. “She was at the beach, naked, with these fuckin’ seashells as a bra. What else do I suspect?”

“Not a mermaid,” Sarah insists, as if it was the most normal response. She glances towards Rafe’s bedroom, where you stay, and sighs. “Have you asked her where she’s from?”

“The ocean,”

Sarah glares. “Not funny.”

“That’s what she told me,” Rafe declares.

Sarah shakes her head again as if she can’t believe her brother would believe in such nonsense. “Alright, I’ll do it. I guess men can’t do shit,” Sarah announces, grabbing Rafe’s arm and hauling him back to his bedroom.

You stand near the corner of his desk, going through everything of his. All family portraits hung behind glass, all his trinkets he found from scouting the beaches, all the golden rings he wears, and the expensive colognes he sets to the side. Your fingers trace each and every curve, feeling the magnitude of each touch, without the presence of water, in a way that allows you to feel each edge. You don’t even notice Sarah and Rafe’s return until someone clears their throat.

Turning around, you spot your mate beside another woman, her hand wrapped around his wrist. Your brows furrow together, full, pouty lips pull to a subtle frown, unsure of what to make of it. Back in Atlantis, no partners would be so shameless to be seen with another mermaid. For Rafe to do so, strikes your chest.

Rafe must’ve picked it up. Somehow, he understood the look behind your eyes, the way you scrutinize his sister’s touch. “This is Sarah, my sister.”

All concern drops, and you grin. “Hi, Sarah!”

“Hi,” She drawls sardonically. “My gullible brother is telling me you’re a mermaid,"

Rafe wants to nudge Sarah in the ribcage. But, you didn’t seem to acknowledge the insult, nodding your head diligently, as if you were answering an average question. “Yes.”

Sarah squints her eyes at you. “A mermaid with no tail,” she boasts suspiciously, but you don’t see it as that.

“Yes,” you answer again, your tone indicating causality as if this concept isn’t hard to grasp.

“So a human,” Sarah concludes, drawing back to the board, just as Rafe done before.

“No,” you make a sound of frustration; you went through a similar conversation with Rafe before, and you feel something tense bubbling in your throat. You attempt to walk towards them, to explain further, but you lost your footing. However, Rafe easily appears by your side and catches you.

“Alright, Bambi, slow down,” he murmurs into your freshly-dried hair; soft, voluminous, laced with the sweet smell of the sea. You peer up at him, doe-shaped eyes with complete and total vulnerability, as if you trust him.

“She certainly got the walk down,” Sarah comments and Rafe lifts his gaze to glare at his sister. You shiver under his embrace, and for some reason, Rafe recognizes it’s because of Sarah.

She’s making you uncomfortable and targeted like you can’t seem to grasp that. Rafe can’t explain how he knows this—how he feels it—but he does. You’re frustrated, and a little hurt, and it’s vibrating off of your body like a shaken leaf.

“Stop interrogating her,” Rafe snaps, defensive of you.

“You asked for my opinion,”

“An opinion, not to be a bitch,” he declares, his other arm wraps protectively over your waist, drawing you closer to him. You revel in the feeling of his warmth, nuzzling against his chest to find comfort.

Sarah rolls her eyes; somehow, she recognizes that you got her brother under a spell. “So what happens now?”

Rafe doesn’t know. He’s trying to figure out the pieces and combine mythology with reality, but nothing makes sense. If he takes your words at face value, that means there’s a reason for your presence, rather than a simple encounter. He plans to take a trip to Ward’s office, to look through his treasured collection of sailor’s stories, and figure out a solution from there.

But there’s also another problem: you.

You and your nakedness.

“Can you do me a favor and take her shopping?” Rafe asks.

“Shopping?” Sarah repeats. “For clothes?”

“No, for a ring,” Rafe replies sardonically. “Yes, for fuckin’ clothes. She didn’t have anything, she barely fits into me, and I doubt you’re the type to share.”

Sarah hums, confirming the last comment.

When Rafe turns back to you, in his arms, his expression softens, his voice layered with a sweetness no one ever had the privilege of hearing before. “We’re going to get you some clothes.”

“Clothes?” You repeat, brows wrinkling together at the foreign concept. “Human clothes?” You pick at Rafe’s shirt, running your fingers across the soft fabric.

He nods. “Clothes.”

You beam at this new exploration; this new human concept that you’ve never had before. You try to stand on your own feet, nearly falling, before finding ground. Sarah approaches you and gently grabs your hand, pulling you towards the door—slowly, cautiously to not lose your footing—but, a few steps in, you resist.

Rafe isn’t following you. He’s abandoning you to a strange woman, a strange companion you don’t completely trust in.

You turn back to Rafe, expression full of panic.

“You’re not coming?” You ask, your voice sultry and soft, as if you can’t seem to distinguish between captivation and causality.

Rafe shakes his head, but his heart aches at the look on your face. “I have work to do.”

You frown. You don’t know if you want to go now either, especially without your mate. But his sister tugs on your arm, and despite her tight grip, you resist.

“Sarah’s my sister,” Rafe explains again, hoping to calm the fear in your eyes. “She’ll keep you safe.”

You hesitate, turning back to Sarah, expecting to find the sardonic, humorless look on her face. But all hostility originally boasted has depleted, and she glosses over with a tender look, almost keeping to the promise of what her brother preaches.

Reluctantly, you nod, and follow Sarah out of Rafe’s bedroom, out of the sanction, and away into the open world.

A few hours later, Rafe’s at the kitchen island, going through old scripts. He’s searching through old maps, and old journal entries, to find any clues about your sudden presence at Kildare. His focus tunes everything out—until the noise of you tripping upon return causes him to lift his gaze.

What he sees takes his breath away.

You’re in the most gorgeous, detailed dress; layered with this blue iridescent color that makes you look like a fantasy. It accentuates every curve on your body, strategically revealing tantalizing skin, and boosts this wave of etherealness.

Rafe can’t seem to look away.

Sarah falls in line beside the counter, her arms leaning against the island, noticing the way you caught her brother in a trance.

“Your little mermaid eats fish,” Sarah declares, causing him to snap out of his state.

He turns to her. “What?”

“I mean, for a mermaid, she can eat fish; for some reason, I assumed they only ate kelp,” she chuckles to herself. Rafe realizes that Sarah took you out to lunch, at some restaurant downtown. “If it helps, she’s also very knowledgeable about the sea. Kept going on tangents about different species, how they interact in the ocean, and even challenged a couple of jewelry stores about their pearls. I was almost convinced she’s a real mermaid.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything, his sister’s voice slowly slipping into the background when his gaze returns back to you.

You’re twirling in your dress, catching your footing, and losing it in the same breath, while laughing at the way the fabric spins around you. A melodic, siren-song laugh that sounds enchanting.

“What?” Sarah asks, noting his brother’s lack of response. She follows his line of vision. “You don’t like the dress?”

Rafe swallows, feeling something thick in his throat, before rubbing his jaw. He forces himself to snap out of it—again—before turning back to his sister. The lure to return back to you is hard to resist. “You couldn’t have found something less… form-fitting?”

Sarah scoffs. She can’t believe Rafe’s complaining. “You should be glad I got her into something at all,” she declares. “For a mermaid who’s so fascinated with human customs, she truly does not respect any of it.”

“What do you mean?”

Rafe returns back to you, and the way you find your space in his living room, while Sarah lowers herself to her brother’s level, meeting the shell of his ear, as if she’s trading a secret.

“She’s not wearing any panties.”

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

TAGLIST FOR MERMAID!READER: @fullofsunshineandloneliness / @erwinsvow / @perfectprettypisces / @immalosersblog / @carolinevoight

[alllgator-blood]

I MADE THESE FOREVER AGO BUT NEVER POSTED THEM, I'm not happy with the fact I haven't been drawing at all lately, so I fought through the burnout long enough to finish these. They all had a couple small things to finish and somehow that made me not post them for 2 months...

Definitely gonna do that 50 bishop questions thing when I'm done bedrotting, especially now that I have these refs up. But for now: a couple assorted fun facts below the cut

-Leshy is a comic artist, Kallamar is a painter who specializes in frescos and triptychs, and Narinder is an animator who makes flipbooks. So back when the family was all still together, those three would meet up on slow days to storyboard + make backgrounds + animate characters in flipbook form and make the dark ages equivalent to a movie!

-Heket was originally supposed to have tattoos, but I literally forget to add them every single time I draw her and frankly it'd be weird if I randomly added them now. They were those little eyes all over her chest/belly that you can see in her eldritch form, but she also had oak leaves and mushrooms on her collarbone!

-I use they/them for Kallamar by default, and tend to have slightly different ways I draw them depending on if they're feeling masc/fem/neutral in comics. The family jokes that Kallamar is the one who leeched all of Shamura's gender, because Kall is like EVERYTHING AT ONCE and Shamura is just ENDLESS VOID

-You can tell if Shamura likes you if they start using pet names or flowery symbolism rather than your actual name. Their name for Mystic Seller is "Sunshine" because they heard a follower singing that "you are my sunshine" song, and felt that same mushy feeling in their chest listening to it as they get when they look at Mystic Seller.

-I dunno when the *exact* year was that Shamura started to shrivel up and lose their muscles, but it was probably around the ~500 year mark? So you can really kinda time when a comic takes place if Shamura shows up- if they're bedridden but still jacked, it's pretty soon after the schism. And if they're all gangly and disheveled, it's pretty close to the events of the game.

-All of their crown weapons are of indigenous origin because uhhh ummm fuck you that's why. The lore reason is that Shamura was the one to teach them all how to fight, and everybody already knows my Shamura is inexplicably Lakota...also I must say MEDICINE SHIELDS ARE NOT INTENDED FOR COMBAT IRL I just thought it was the *perfect* thing to give Kall.

-I've talked about Leshy's autism a bunch of times, but only once have I said that they ALL got it. It just manifests in very different ways. Heket's most notable autism trait is "something is wrong, I need to correct it or I'll fucking implode"/injustice sensitivity. She's the MF that breaks out the measuring tape when dividing up a snack to be shared. She also is LOUD AUTISTIC so she's not yelling at you but totally sounds like she is. Kallamar is the "I'm gonna projectile vomit if I bite something soft and find something crunchy"/"if I don't cover myself in lotion 24/7 I'll scream over being trapped in my dry skin" type. So a VERY texture sensitive fella. Shamura is obviously an infodumping type who has niche special interests, but will rip you in half with their bare fucking hands if you chew gum around them or breathe through your mouth.

I have so many random stupid headcanons about these guys that I might do an entire gigantic post about it someday but rn I just want to wrap this up and go lay back down lmao

[nectar-cellar]

Online Dating Inbox Messages - TS3 - Override

THIS IS THE 18+ NSFW VERSION.

KNOWN ISSUE: SOME PLAYERS HAVE EXPERIENCED GAME FREEZING AFTER INSTALLING THIS MOD :(

You can only install one version at a time in your Overrides or Packages folder.

Important info:

Required: Seasons EP

This mod is available in ENGLISH only.

This mod overwrites the English STBL strings in DeltaBuild0.package. DeltaBuild0 contains the strings for basically every notification, Build/Buy item description, etc. This mod will conflict with any other mod that edits the English strings. That's why the file size is so big.

What's New:

Changed "More to Love" body type to "Thick".

The majority of the online dating messages have been replaced.

Written, compiled, and edited by me. Sourced from and inspired by random dating advice websites, memes and Reddit threads. It is not 100% my original content!

No AI was used!

Online Dating Messages

New platonic messages.

New rejection messages that are purposefully rude, but hopefully in a funny way.

New romantic messages. Vulgar, raunchy, swearing, sexual references, references to genitalia and light kink, all that.

If you are sensitive to this type of content, do not download it!!!!

The goal of this mod was to replace the boring default messages with some smutty adult-oriented ones like you'd find in a GTA game. This one is for you Passion/KW users out there. I hope you have as much fun discovering the lines as I did writing and compiling them.

This mod went through SO MANY rewrites. It's a relief to finally release it.

Download: mediafire / mega

A preview below, for those who don't mind spoilers.

[lkblackham]

Had the image of a half human, half Qunari baby pop in my head and got some good therapy practicing drawing cute babies.

Being the child of a nurse-midwife, I have witnessed many births and many different kinds of new dads (on video, to be clear - my mom didn't drag me around to births in person). And so, it is my belief that Emmrich would definitely be the weepy type of new dad. I love those dads.

My personal fanfic headcanon stuff that may or may not be cringe, I make no apologies:

1) Qunari kids, much like goats, do not fully grow their horns until they hit puberty. Which is definitely for the best, because a) birth OUCH and b) can you imagine a hyperactive 2-year-old running around with what amounts to two giant spears attached to their head?

So for the first 12+ years of their life, they just have cute lil forehead nubbins that still really hurt when they headbutt you during a tantrum.

2) It's a girl. Because we all know that Emmrich has strong Girl Dad energy.

3) Atash and Emmrich had a really tough time with names - both given names and surnames. Atash isn't particularly attached to her surname (Laidir) and so was totally fine with just 'Volkarin' for their kid. Emmrich was insistent on including 'Laidir', however, as he felt very strongly about Atash's heritage and story sharing an equal part with his in naming their daughter. So she's got 2 last names - one for Nevarra and one for Rivain. She can pick whichever she prefers, or neither, or both. What matters is that both are there to begin with.

This line of thinking also, obviously, complicated the given name. It's really hard when you're pretty certain this is going to be your only kid, and you're from two very different cultures with their own ideas about names, AND you have a rather tragically long list of people you love who have passed on and deserve to have a child named after them. Not to mention, both of you have names you just personally like, saved away in your head just in case you ever did have a kid to name.

In the end, Atash and Emmrich came up with a compromise, for which they really hope their daughter won't resent them in the future: they gave her *four* names. One for a family member, one for a fallen friend, one for her Qunari heritage, and one that's just hers and no one else's.

So, all together, it came to:

Lobelia Elannora Lace Nazay Laidir Volkarin

It's. It's a lot. Atash and Emmrich both acknowledge that. But it felt wrong to not include those tributes in their daughter's name.

Besides, this just means she has a lot of options, right? Right? Right. Definitely.

(They also acknowledge that Lace Harding would think this was absolutely ridiculous and laugh at them over it, but that mental image being there is part of why they did it)

And yes, of COURSE they chose a flower name.

4) Manfred is really friggin excited to get the chance to watch someone grow up and maybe teach THEM some things himself. Emmrich is really friggin excited on both a personal and academic level to raise his daughter alongside his ward, teaching her about spirits while Manfred learns from her about mortals.

Manfred's also a really great diaper changer because he doesn't have a nose and he's not squeamish about literally anything.

(Not that Atash or Emmrich take advantage of this.)

(Often.)

BY THE WAY, VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: I do not believe that the default Happy Ending for everyone is having kids. In another universe, Emmrich and Rook are just as happy teaching Manfred how to be a person and mage (or not, if Emmrich became a lich) and going off on their own kid-free adventures. YOU MAKE THE CHOICES THAT ARE BEST FOR YOU and fuck what the tropes say.

This is just *my* fantasy cringe fluff. You do you. ♥️

[chieltbest]

Yet Another Package Editor

Download the latest version here

YaPe is a modern package editor for DBPF (.package) files

Features:

Edit any package - FAST

List and edit resources in a package

Filter resources by type

Easy editors for several resource types

Supports opening ANY DBPF-coded .package, .dat, or .sc4 file

Easily reduce texture size, add/remove/recreate mipmaps, change texture format

Import textures by dragging, export DDS

Native on Windows and Linux

Why make yet another package editor?

Simply said, because SimPe can be kind of cumbersome especially on Linux, and package editors other than SimPe (s3pe, s4pe, iLive's Reader etc.) do not support Sims 2 resources.

To illustrate, I timed someone shrinking a texture (convert RawARGB32 -> DXT1, shrink 2x) in both SimPe and YaPe:

SimPe + GIMP: 1m 30s

YaPe: 10s

Originally this started as just a way to easily test if my DBPF library was doing the correct thing, but over time it has grown to become a half-decent editor suitable for more general use.

Tutorial / usage tips

Here I will explain how to shrink and convert textures in YaPe because that's what I imagine most people will use this program for right now, but of course you can use it for other things as well.

Let's get started by getting the program to look the way you want to: use the options in the top left to change the scale of the interface and switch between dark and light mode.

Now drag a package file into the program (don't worry about closing the sims except when you save the package), a list of resources in the package will be visible. You can find out what the abbreviations mean by hovering your mouse over them; in general I try to add tooltips like this to buttons or options that are unclear.

Don't be afraid to mess around and make changes! The changes you make are never saved unless you press the save button, so if you simply drag your package file into YaPe again without saving you will get your original package back (there is currently no undo function, but it is a planned feature).

All these resources are great, but we're only interested in the textures for this tutorial so let's set a filter. Right click on a texture (TXTR) and select "Filter on type".

Great! Now you can only see the textures we're interested in. You can disable this filter by unticking the "filter" option at the top.

Now click on the "TXTR" to open the texture, it will open a new tab in the lower half of the window by default. If your window is not very big (like mine is for this tutorial) you might have trouble seeing the texture and all the options. You can drag the tab around and put it somewhere else in the program, I'm going to put it on the right and make it a little bigger so we can see what's going on.

Okay, now we can see all the options, and well... there's a bunch of them. We'll go over some of the options that you'll likely want to use but feel free to experiment of course.

First, let's have a look at the texture viewer at the bottom: you can zoom in on the texture by holding control and scrolling, and you can change which mipmap is displayed by clicking the radio buttons above the texture.

But wait, this texture does not have enough mipmaps to show up in game! (post by @pforestsims) Let's fix that right this instant by clicking the "Add missing mipmaps" button in the middle.

Okay, now the mipmaps will show up in game, which is good... except that this mipmap is really blurry. (post by me) Luckily we can fix this really easily, just click the "Recalculate all mipmaps" button.

Much better!... except that we've created a new hidden problem: the leaves will disappear when zooming out in game (blog by lisyarus) but even this problem can be fixed. We can actually preview what the texture will look like when zoomed out by switching the format to DXT1 since DXT1 has binary transparency, just like alpha tested textures like leaves and grass.

Right, so the leaves have a bunch of holes that don't look right when zooming out, let's change that. Above the "Add missing mipmaps" button there is the "Preserve transparency" slider: try changing it to something like 120-170 and click "Recalculate all mipmaps", you can see that the transparency changes, if it's still too thin/transparent set the value higher and recalculate again and so on.

Have a look at all the mipmaps (zoom levels) and once you're satisfied with the transparency change the format back to DXT5.

This texture will now look great in game! But it is also quite large, so we can reduce the size 2x smaller without sacrificing very much in terms of looks (sorry to all the cc authors who love their large textures). Click the "Remove largest texture" button, which will make it so that the first mipmap becomes the largest texture effectively reducing the size by 2x. Like mentioned it does use the first mipmap so make sure to fix any blurry mipmaps first.

You can repeat the same process for the other textures in the package, and then we're done. Save the package by clicking the save button in the top bar, and have a look in game at your beautiful textures.

Another option is to drag images/textures you've made somewhere else into the program (with special support for dds files), for a full lists of supported image formats you can look here. (image-rs documentation) The image/texture will currently go into the firsts open texture resource tab because of UI framework limitations.

Here's a look at some of the other editor currently implemented:

Enjoy :)