#ALWAYS BEEN MY LEAST LEAST FAVORITE PART OF TOPPING. SORRY

[kennelpuppy]

*stumbling into the room looking like i've just been struck by lightning* just realized i can top someone without strapping them.

[carewyncromwell]

🏠&✈️ for Carewyn (moodboard ask game)

🏠 HOUSE — my muse's family/hometown: Liverpool, England, UK

✈️ AIRPLANE — my muse's dream travel destination(s): Vienna, Austria

I loved these prompts so much, ma cherie, thank you!! xoxoxo

Character Aesthetic Ask!

[aegonstradwife]

obsession | aegon targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested: aegon being obsessed with his new wife, but stuck in council meetings all day. when he finally sees you at night he's always trying to impregnate you and give you as many babies as possible.

warnings: established relationship, smut. (oral, handjob, piv, creampie, impreg.)

a. note: link to the original request.

You and Aegon have only been married a week, and already even a day away from him feels dull and empty, like a world stripped of all color and joy.

Though you didn't know him well before your betrothal, you've found your new husband to be doting and sweet and quite handsome to boot. To be married to a Targaryen - much less the king - is any highborn girl's dream. They are the rulers, the protectors, of the realm.

But that's hardly what matters to you, when it comes to Aegon.

He may be king, and you now queen, but you find yourself believing you would love your husband even if he were a lowly pauper from Flea Bottom.

And that's why you're now hurrying up to your bedchamber after a long day of entertaining the keep's guests from the riverlands. You've taken tea and other small meals with the visiting lords and ladies all godsdamned day.

All you want now is to see your husband after many long hours away from him.

On his part, Aegon himself has been busy with small council meetings and petitions throughout the day and has been eagerly awaiting your return since he got back to your shared bedchamber and found you still absent.

He's right behind the door when you push it open, stumbling back in pleasant surprise, a flushed grin on his face. "There you are, my sweet," he mutters, taking your hand and drawing you close to him. "I heard your footsteps in the hall...."

You grin, falling against him with a sigh and kicking the door shut behind you. "Did you now? And you were so sure it was me?"

You slot your fingers with his and squeeze, gazing lovingly up at him.

"I would know your footsteps anywhere." He pulls you flush against his chest, arms wrapping you in a tight embrace. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, relishing in the scent of your hair, your skin, the day's exertion still clinging to you in a damp, cloying sweat.

He mumbles against you, words ushered against your skin, "I missed you."

"I've missed you too, my king." Finally, wrapped in his arms, everything is right with the world. "And how was your day? Meetings went well?"

Aegon is already half undressed, his tunic laying loosely over his unlaced trousers; you take the opportunity to slip a hand underneath his top and trail your nails lightly over his back.

His eyes slip closed in obvious pleasure at the feeling of your fingers on his spine and he shivers under your touch, a soft moan escaping him. It takes him a moment to respond.

"Mmm, my day was long and tiresome. I spent the entire day in the small council chamber, then moved along to the throne room to listen to petitions and resolve asinine disputes. I couldn't wait to come back here to you.... to have you in my arms, finally." His lips are seeking your neck again, his favorite place, laying soft kisses along the skin there.

"I'm sorry, love," you sigh contentedly. "You know I feel much the same - all this droll highborn talk puts me to sleep, it always has."

You roll your eyes, intensifying the scrape of your nails over Aegon's back. "But at least there was tea."

A full body shudder rolls through him this time, back arching under your hand as he groans and grabs wantonly for your hips.

"Tea?" He murmurs, lips brushing your ear. "You and your damned tea. Sometimes I think you might love your tea even more than you love me...."

"Oh, how could I?" You gasp, aghast, as you pull back to look at Aegon. Both hands now planted on his shoulders, you give your husband a studying look. "I love nothing more than you, my king."

A gentle hand comes to stroke at his soft cheek, thumb brushing back and forth beneath the dark circle ringing his eye. "You look exhausted, Aegon. Shall we to bed?"

Aegon leans into your touch, closing his eyes again only briefly, savoring the feel of your sweet touch against his skin. He draws a deep, steadying breath before meeting your gaze with a weary smile.

"You're right," he concedes, hushed, "I am exhausted.... but I don't think I could sleep just now.... "

The timber of his voice dips lower, and his bright blue eyes darken as he takes hold of your waist again. "Do you know what's been on my mind all day?"

You press against him, loving when he gets like this. So desperate and needy and all for you, secreted away from everyone who have had him all to themselves all day. Now meant only for your eyes.

"I'm sure I could guess, but.... Why don't you tell me?" Taking his hand, you lead him slowly toward the big bed in the middle of the room.

Aegon follows your lead, willingly, letting you guide him to bed. His gaze devours your figure, watching the way your hips sway with each step. Such nice, child-bearing hips, he thinks. He can't help but admire the way your silken gown clings to you as you move.

As you reach the bed, Aegon is there behind you, arms around your waist, holding you back against him. "All day, I've been thinking about holding you just like this," he murmurs, his lips at your ear. "Your body pressed to mine.... the sound of your labored breathing as I make you mine.... as I breed you...."

With your back pressed to his chest, you can feel him through his trousers - already deliciously hard for you. His hands prowl over your body atop your gown, and you turn in his embrace to start plucking at the already half unlaced top of his tunic. "Aegon.... I need that. I need you. Please."

His breath hitches. The desperate tone in your voice, the way your body responds instantly to his touch.... it makes his head spin.

"I know," he growls, his hands never relinquishing their hold on your hips as he kisses your neck. "You don't know how much I've wanted you, darling.... how hard I've been all day." He grinds himself into you, his erection straining at his trousers.

Wanting to see more of him, to have more of him bared against you, you urge him to raise his arms, ripping his top off over his head.

Your small hands travel his chest, brushing his pretty pink nipples, palming at his belly. "I think I have something of an idea. Because I've been wet all day at the thought of retiring here, to do this very thing."

His eyes flutter shut and he whimpers wantonly at the feeling of your hands on his body. No one had ever touched him this way before you.... He is completely at your mercy, putty in your hands to do with as you wish.

"Is that so?" He gasps, voice trembling, abdomen tensing under your touch. "Did you spend the whole day thinking about this.... thinking about me?"

He sounds surprised.

You tilt your head. "Of course, my sweet. I spend every day thinking of you. When I'm taking tea or practicing my Valyrian, you're always in the back of my mind. And I do mean always."

While he's preoccupied with this thought, you let your hands stray to his trousers, undoing those the rest of the way as well.

You slip your hands past the waistband and he gasps, his body shivering against yours.

"And what thoughts do you have of me, my darling?" He murmurs huskily, the timbre of his voice dropping an octave. "Tell me. I must hear them."

Aegon is already half mad with desire, with the way your body fits so easily against his.

With one of your hands seeking his hardness, the other brushes a lock of fine hair lovingly away from his face. "I think of your lips, the sweet kisses they give. I think of your hands, and what pleasure they bring me. Of your tongue...." Here, your fingers brush over his plump lips. "But mostly I think of your cock, and how one day soon it will give us an heir...."

Upon saying this, you grab it, and start to stroke slowly.

Aegon groans aloud, a guttural sound of need and desire that reverberates through his chest. He buries his face again in the crook of your neck, laboured breathing hot against your skin.

"Oh gods, yes...." He gasps, hips jerking reflexively into your hand. "Keep talking.... don't stop.... I know.... I know I'm not worthy, of any of this. But gods, when you say I am I actually fucking believe you...."

You welcome him against you with your hand cupped behind his neck, holding him close as you continue to stroke him inside his trousers. You soothe his little shakes and trembles with a kiss to his shoulder as you mutter softly, "Think of how many times you've given me your seed in just the past week. How many times more you're going to in the coming years. You're going to give us such a big, beautiful family. I love you, Aegon...."

You know your king likes hearing this, and that his favorite thing in this world is finishing inside of you. As such, your words have the desired effect - Aegon is now throbbing against the palm of your hand.

Close to your ear, his breath stutters. His body follows shortly after with a tremor, and he clings onto you, fingers grappling at the back of your gown. Your words, your touch, your presence - it's all he needs. And he's completely at your mercy, a mess of desperate desire and need.

"I'm yours.... I'm all yours...." He sobs into your neck. "You're the only one who makes me feel like this. The only one who makes me feel even remotely alive."

His hips buck his cock into your hand, the friction driving him mad. "Please don't stop.... I need you."

"Shh, Aegon...." You soothe him further, more kisses pressed to his warm skin. And though he's asked you not to stop, you do, only temporarily.

Doing your best to ignore his whimpers at the loss of your hand, you turn and offer your back to him. "Undo my dress, my love. Or shall I call my handmaids in to assist instead?"

Behind you, Aegon stumbles forward. "No," he growls. "No, I'll do it."

You know he hates the thought of anyone else seeing you in any state of undress, which is why you'd said it in the first place.

His hands are clumsy and shaking, but he manages to undo the buttons of your dress, revealing more and more of your skin. Every inch he exposes is like a revelation, a small taste of what's to come.

He pushes the dress from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric at your feet.

Clad now in only the sheer, white shift worn under your gown, you step out of the folds of your dress heaped on the floor and back toward the bed. You offer a hand to Aegon. "Come, my king. Join me. Or haven't you been thinking about this all day?"

His eyes rake over you, the thin material of your shift leaving little to the imagination. Aegon swallows hard, his throat suddenly very dry.

"Gods, yes," he rasps, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the bed. "It's been maddening to be apart from you all day. To think of you, only a few corridors away, while I was trapped in ridiculous meetings and listening to petitioners...."

"Petitions are important," you sigh, sinking back against the veritable mountain of pillows adorning the head of the bed. "Meetings less so, I'm sure. But.... nothing more important than doing your husbandly duty to your wife."

You laugh softly, spreading your legs as your shift rides up around your thighs, letting Aegon settle between. "My dear Aegon.... you know you do deserve this, don't you? All of this.... all of me?"

He admires your splayed legs, gaze dark and intense. Then he reaches out, letting his hands travel over the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

"I think you give me far too much credit, my love," he begins, pausing to press a gentle kiss to your leg, lips skimming over your sensitive skin. He moons adoringly up at you, raw desire written plain over his face. "But when you say it.... I almost believe you."

It's so hot these days, you typically decide to forego any smallclothes under your shift. Tonight, you're especially glad for that - Aegon's mouth is dangerously near your thighs. No doubt he can see your sex glistening beneath the shadow of gauzy material stretched between your legs.

"It's true, my king. All the love you have for me.... I want to return it tenfold."

With that, you start to pull the shift up further, so that slowly, your bare lower half is made plain to Aegon in the dim light of the bedchamber.

His mouth goes dry at the sight of you, bare and exposed to him. His breathing quickens, and he takes you in like a man thirsting for water.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands twitch with restrained need, aching to touch you, to feel you. "If I could, I would spend the rest of my life worshiping this body, and never go even a second without stopping.... "

The shift slips up even further, over your breasts and off, as you shake your hair loose. "You look like a man who wants a taste, Aegon.... Why don't you indulge?"

You encourage him with a hand at his shoulder, pulling him down.

He can't resist you, not that he'd ever dream of trying. He leans in, hands grasping your thighs, gentle kisses laid in their wake, his lips a mere preview of what's to come.

"You're so wicked," he murmurs, his breath coming in scorching pants against your thighs. "Always so eager to drive me to such desperation...."

Painstakingly slow, he inches higher, his lovely mouth trailing up toward the center of your heat, lips pressing soft kisses over the sensitive flesh.

You hook a leg over his shoulder, keeping him close with that hand now in his hair.

"You were already hard when I was still wearing my gown," you giggle, pressing your thumb to the corner of his plush lips. "Don't act like you need any tempting.... "

"Gods, not when it comes to you," he mutters, his lips now hovering just above the most intimate part of you, the anticipation driving both of you mad. "You're like a drug, my love - so very addicting. Once I have a taste, I can't get enough...."

His tongue darts out, tasting you delicately, barely enough to even feel, and he positively howls. "You taste so sweet.... my favorite meal."

The second lap of Aegon's tongue over you is also gentle, almost innocent. "Please, Aegon.... I need you."

You press that thumb harder, parting his lips and making him suck on your thumb.

He takes it eagerly, tongue swirling around it, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he tastes you.

"You know I can never resist you, my love," he mutters around your finger. "I'll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it."

He kisses your thigh, your hip, your stomach, working his way back to the place he wants to be most.

Once he's released it, you smooth your wet thumb over his cheek, leaving a streak of spit. Then leaning back, you grin. "I think you know what I want."

He smirks up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You know I do," he murmurs, tongue delving between your slick folds. He grunts against you, the taste of you sending his mind spinning. "Heavenly.... I could spend all night right here, just like this."

Your thighs tremble beside his ears, and Aegon pets his hands soothingly over them.

"A-Aegon, gods.... your tongue always feels so good. It's not too late, we can keep at this for a while before we have to sleep, don't you think?"

His words are muffled, but the meaning clear; "I have no intention of stopping any time soon, my queen.... I plan on having you scream my name before the night is through."

Aegon's tongue swirls in lazy circles against your clit, hands gripping your trembling thighs to anchor you to him.

Aegon loves to tease, you know this. And yet, it still takes you by surprise and leaves you breathless how slow and lethargic those sweeps of his tongue really are.

"Aegon," you moan loudly, head thrashing, fingers plucking at your stiff nipples. "Aegon, I love you...."

"I love you," he says, pausing to flick his tongue against your clit, teasing it relentlessly. "Gods... I love you so much... so much... "

His mind is hazy with desire, lost in the taste and scent of you, the feel of your body under his touch. He can't get enough of you, craving more and more until he's completely satisfied, which he knows will take hours at the very least.

Aegon is gazing up at you with a mix of desperate desire and heartfelt love. The fire blazing in his bright blue eyes is intoxicating, drawing you in.

"I know.... I know you said you want to do this all night, but.... don't you want to put a baby inside of me instead?"

His breath stutters, eyes flashing with heat at your words. He presses another kiss to your hip, his hands roaming over your skin.

"A baby...." he muses, the thought sending a thrill through him. "You'd give me an heir, my love? Our child.... growing inside you...."

"Of course," you chuckle, carding a hand through his hair. "Isn't that what we've been trying for every night - and some afternoons - this past week....?"

He chokes on a laugh, his hands moving to rest on your stomach. "Every night and afternoon.... and some mornings." He looks up at you with a cheeky smile. "I've been a very.... thorough husband, haven't I?"

You nod, grinning down at your handsome husband. "Some might say too thorough. We've both been neglecting our royal duties, somewhat, to try and conceive. Tonight could be the night...."

He chuckles, hands moving over you, palming gently. "And if not tonight.... then we try again and again and again. Until we're successful."

He trails kisses over your stomach, his mouth wandering over the soft skin. "I'm not going to stop until I get you pregnant, love."

"We should start now, then...." Your cunt is dripping onto the bedclothes, all Aegon would need do is take those confounded trousers off and slide right in.... "Get me pregnant, my king. Give us an heir."

Aegon needs no more prompting; he kneels up just long enough to kick his pants off the end of the bed, then crawls over you.

"As you wish, my dear." His body presses close against yours, the heat between you searing hot. He bends to press a kiss to your neck, hands gently caressing your body. "You'll give me heirs and spares?"

You brace yourself with your hands on his arms, running over his heated flesh. "We'll have so many princes and princesses running around, we won't know what to do with ourselves," you reply quietly.

Aegon's cock is red and leaking, bobbing between his legs. "I want it," you mutter, staring hungrily down at it.

"That's the plan," he mutters, eyes darkening as he follows your gaze down between his legs.

"You're just as wicked as I am, aren't you?" His voice is strained with need. "I want to tease you more.... make you beg and squirm.... but you're making it so hard for me to hold back now."

You swipe a hand between your own legs, gathering slick from your folds to bring to Aegon's length, easing the way as you stroke him.

"Am I making it hard? Am I making it so hard, my king?"

Your touch sends a jolt of pleasure through him, a grating cry falling from his lips. He nods desperately, his hips bucking into your hand.

"So... gods, so hard... you're going to drive me mad, woman," he groans, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "If you keep this up, I'm going to lose all control..."

"Lose it, then. Fuck me, Aegon. Fuck me so hard the entire keep can hear me scream your name." You're trying to pull him forward by his cock, but the slippery grip of your fingers is making it hard.

Aegon growls, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him roughly. His cock slips from your grasp, pressing against your entrance as he stares into your eyes.

"Is that what you want, my love?" he croaks, voice breaking with longing. "Do you want me to take you like a savage…. make you mine completely…. until there's nothing left of us but the echoes of our screams along these stone walls?"

He doesn't wait for your answer, pushing into you in one swift motion. You're tight, so godsdamn tight, and it's all Aegon can do to keep himself from losing control entirely. He begins to move, slowly at first, relishing the sensation of your body gripping him selfishly.

Gods, he makes you feel like some lowborn whore when he talks like that, and you love it. "T-Take me, Aegon," you stutter, a moment too late. He's already inside, moving, pushing past that tight ring of muscle that is always so hells bent on keeping him out.

One hand comes down to rub hard at that little button, the one that sends such shocks of pleasure through you. The other braces itself on Aegon's hip, where you can feel his muscles moving beautifully beneath the skin, driving him on.

Aegon growls, feeling your body react to his touch. Your tight walls pulse around him with each stroke, driving him ever closer to completion.

"By the gods, you feel so good," he pants, his fingers digging into your hips as he quickens his pace. "So fucking perfect…. just for me…."

He can feel himself getting close, a fire building inside him that he knows will consume him entirely. But he can't stop now, not when you're writhing beneath him, begging for more. He moves harder, deeper, angling his hips just so to hit that sweet spot inside you.

You find yourself digging your heels into the mattress, helping him to change that angle to the one that makes you see stars.

You truly are screaming his name now, your voice echoing off the walls. Surely those in neighboring chambers have no trouble hearing you now.

"That's it," Aegon grunts, his hold on your hips bruising. "Let them hear you, love. Let them all hear their king getting their queen pregnant."

Your body tenses, pleasure building inside you to a fever pitch. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to topple over into ecstasy at any moment.

"Gods, Aegon!" You cry out, gripping the sheets beneath you as he pounds into you with abandon.

"Yes, yes…. let them hear it…. let them know you're mine…."

And then it's there, that rush that consumes you entirely. You shatter around him, every muscle in your body clenching as you scream his name. It's enough to push him over the edge too, and he follows you with a hoarse cry, spilling into your depths.

Your entire body feels overheated, the candles on the bedside tables guttering as you cry out with abandon. There's a soft layer of sweat over your entire body as you lie panting underneath your husband.

His cock is still spasming and twitching inside of you. You have just enough energy to wrap your trembling arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss. "Do you feel that, my king? Do you feel your queen's cunt milking all of your strong seed out? It's going to take this time, I just know it."

Aegon whines, his body shuddering with the aftershocks of his release. He collapses onto you, panting and sweaty as he pulls you into his arms.

"Gods, yes," he gasps, his voice ragged with pleasure. "I can feel it…. you're so tight…. so perfect…. I've filled you completely…. you're pregnant with my child…"

He says this like the saying makes it so, and you love him for it.

He nuzzles your neck, kissing you feverishly as he continues to thrust weakly into you. The thought of making you carry his child ignites a fire in him that refuses to be quenched.

The feeling of Aegon still trying to fuck his softening cock into you warms your heart. Your king wants so badly to always be inside of you….

Letting him rest his fair head on your chest, you take a steadying breath. "Aegon …"

He looks up at you, eyes softening as he takes you in. "Yes, my love?" He asks, still panting heavily.

You run a gentle hand through his hair, feeling the damp strands sticking to your fingers. "Do you really believe that I'm pregnant with your child now?"

Aegon nods firmly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "Of course I do. My seed has filled you completely, my queen. And soon enough, our child will be growing inside you…. a true heir to the Targaryen name."

He pauses, taking a moment to adore you. "And when that day comes, my love, we'll be unstoppable. Together, we'll conquer all of Westeros and make the world bow to our will."

[feyascorner]

Please please please I am in desperate need of Astarion comforting Tav.

Like Tav is always comforting everyone else, but there is never anybody to hold their hand when they are scared or hug them when they are sad. Please let them be scared. Let them be sad, let them be vulnerable and let them feel their own emotions.

Tav needs a hug :,)

a/n. no you're so right because I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TAV LOVE!!!!! This ended up a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I expected but I hope that’s okay! :) also this is not proofread pls excuse me for the grammar errors that are definitely in here.

You don’t mind helping others, really. You don’t mind guiding Shadowheart to escaping her evil goddess, you don’t mind finding a way to aid Gale’s ticking time bomb, and you don’t mind spending hours in battle to find a piece of infernal iron for Karlach. It’s natural after all, because they’re your precious companions.

But it’s also made the thought of being something else—the one being comforted—more shameful than anything.

It was just a bad day, honestly. Bits of your life being pricked at with needles. The whole week had been hellish, but today seemed to be bent on finally wiping you clean. A battle going wrong, the lake freezing over and preventing you from taking a bath, the pot of soup you were in charge of burning to cinders—they’re all small, but they add up. And when you find that your favorite pair of gloves are splitting at the seams, it’s your final straw.

You stumble into your tent, barely holding back tears as you close the flap shut behind you, signaling that you wanted to be alone. You collapse into your bedroll, face first as even the blanket beneath you isn’t enough to cushion you against the hard floor.

Gods.

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging your tears to leave. The others have a lot more problems at the moment—ones that wager between life and death—but you can’t help the overwhelming burst of emotions you’ve kept bottled in for weeks now. So many bad things are happening, but there’s no time for you to mourn, because the least you can do is stand beside your companions in their own grief. It forces you to constantly stay alert, keeping your heart open for them but shut closed for yourself.

It’s so, so overwhelming. It almost feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You hadn’t even heard him entering the tent, and immediately your shoulders tense as you shoot up into a sitting position, wiping desperately at your eyes. You know they’re red, but you hope he ignores it. “No, I’m just tired. I’m turning in early for tonight, sorry.”

He stares at you, making his suspicion blatantly obvious to urge you to continue but you don’t, forcing your eyes to the ground. “No need to be sorry, my love. I was just making sure.”

You want to throw yourself into him. To let him hold you as you complain about the more mundane parts of life as well as the feelings wracking the sobs of your chest. To let him soothe you as all you can do is cry.

But you don’t. It’s just not what you do.

“Pity, these pretty things of yours,” he lifts your gloves that had been discarded on the ground with a cock of a brow. “I quite liked them. But…they don’t seem to be at a complete loss yet.”

You finally look at him.

“Why it just needs a bit of stitching and some polish. It’ll look even better than it did before with my handiwork,” he inspects the fabric closely. “Hm, I was finished with fixing Karlach’s shirt anyway, I suppose I could spare some time for your gloves.”

Despite his words, his eyes are gentle as they shift over to you, and it makes your lip quiver.

“I’ll ask again,” he says softly, and you know it’s an effort in vain to resist. “Are you alright?”

Like a river breaking through a dam, you fling yourself into him, tears already slipping down your cheeks as they smear against his shirt. You worry about the snot for a split second, yanking away, but he just pushes your head back to him, sighing with you practically wrapped on top of him.

“You should have told me before things had gotten this bad, my love,” he says, no true judgment laced in his words. If anything, he sounds amused. It makes you cry even harder as you wail loudly into his chest, with his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks eventually after what seems like eternity, and your sobs have calmed to sniffles.

“…not now.”

“Very well,” he laces his fingers with yours, and you tilt your head up just enough to see the fond smile stretching on his lips. “I shall remain here until you’re ready. Until then, I have no quarrels with our current arrangement.”

You mumble against him as he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “…thank you for this.”

“You needed this,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not you, of course, which is why comfort is not my strong suit, as charming as I am. I much prefer blowing off steam in a bloody battle, but this—“ he runs a hand through your hair, gentle enough not to pull at any strands. You resist the need to sigh into the feeling. “—this, I can do as many times as you need.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list. 

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying. 

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist. 

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him. 

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up. 

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now. 

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you. 

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone. 

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself. 

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much. 

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy. 

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine. 

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol. 

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is. 

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her. 

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall. 

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance. 

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that. 

But god, does he think about you like that. 

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee. 

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand. 

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought. 

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?” 

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her. 

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse. 

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom. 

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again. 

But. 

That’s all contingent. 

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same. 

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies. 

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him. 

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him. 

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back. 

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out. 

Not again. 

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can. 

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is. 

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too. 

He sends you a text—the third message in a row. 

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years. 

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you. 

[imaginecolby]

handsy || c.b.

summary: there is one specific part of you that colby can't seem to get enough of

requested by anonymous.

being with colby, he never shied away from physical contact. he always found a way to touch you, whether that was just holding your hand, draping his arm around your shoulders, or any other part of you he could get his hands on. in private, he was especially handsy, focusing on one part of your body in particular.

your breasts were colby’s favorite part of your body. sexually or not, he always ended up in contact with them. while you were laying on the couch or in bed, he used them as pillows. during your intimate times, any chance he could get, his hands (sometimes his mouth) were on them. they fit in his hands perfectly, and he knew exactly how to work them in greatest ways that made you feel better than you could ever imagine.

one night, colby came home after a particularly stressful day. he’d been out filming all day, and a lot of unfortunate things went wrong.

“today just sucked entirely. but, at least it’s over, and we can start over tomorrow.” he said to you from the closet as he was changing. “enough about my day, turning my attention to you.” you held your arms out to him, and he fell into your embrace. 

“i’m sorry you had such a bad day.” you sighed, hugging him tight and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“it’s okay. im just happy to be back here with you.” he said smiling up at you. you felt his hands run up your shirt and stop at your boobs. “all three of you.” he added, giving them a squeeze.

“no bra, just for you.” 

“thank you.” he said with a smirk, reaching up to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. his arms wrapped around your waist and rested his head on your chest, making himself comfortable on your boobs. 

colby ended up falling asleep after a while, and as badly as you needed to, you didn’t want to move from underneath him. you could tell how comfortable he was, and you didn’t have it in your heart to disturb his sleep.

colby’s attachment to you was something that made you feel better about yourself. knowing how much colby loved so many pieces of you, this gave you the confidence to forget about the insecurities you sometimes felt about those same pieces.

colby's love for you was more than just physical. he loved your heart, he loved how smart you were, and he loved how much you loved him.

[emma-d-klutz]

Clark telling someone on the Daily Planet who only knows him vaguely as a coworker that, sorry, he really cant take any of that Wayne Ent job off him. Why? Well he sure would like to be of help but journalistic integrity and all. Oh you don't know? Wayne is one of his best friends. No for real. No really! Like probably slot 5 of his top 5 favorite people in the world if he's ranking. (No, Lois isn't first. His mom is first. Which Lois knows but don't like say that I said that.) Right Wayne! No yeah for real love the idiot. You haven't seen him come around? Yeah and he always calls Clark the wrong name as a joke because we're friends. Dude I'm not lying to get out of this! Why would I lie? Ok yeah it is an annoying assignment...

Hang on.

Clark texts someone on his phone. Waits a beat. Gets a text back. Calls someone. It's ringing. It picks up.

"You're on speaker, B."

"Sorry just had to get somewhere quieter-" It is so loud in the background Wayne is nearly screaming into the phone. "Oh yeah Clark was with me all last week. Whatever you saw was someone else. In fact, he saved my life up there. I broke part of my spine on a fall and was partially paralyzed instantly, and he had to carry me over his shoulder. But then after five hours of carrying me, his adrenaline gave out, and so did his legs. So we're both on the ground in a pile right near the ledge, and we start sliding that direction, and I think to myself -I distinctly remember- I think to myself that if we're going to die, at least I get to die looking at intrepid reporter Clark Kent, who is waaay more ripped than he looks with a shirt on and has the most soulful blue eyes. And then we were saved or something because he's such a genius that he rewired his phone and rigged it to get a signal even in the middle of nowhere on the fly and called for a helicopter. Or something like that. I don't know. But yeah thats why Clark's been gone, and if you thought you saw him, you saw someone else. I mean that haircut is everywhere. Did you know he set that trend? Anyway I gotta go."

The line goes dead. Clark and the coworker look blankly at each other for a moment.

".....You were here all last week."

"Sorry. I didn't text him why I needed him to say he knows me, so I think he just.... tried to cover all the bases."

(Bruce is in several layers of method acting ofc but Jimmy, Hal, Ollie, Dinah, Kara, and several more all gleefully corroborate it immediately when given the opportunity and even yes-and onto it, and now Clark's journalistic integrity is going towards reminding his coworker that he was here last week I promise they're all doing bits )

[randomchaosyay]

Muichiro Tokito- Remember

Warnings: Angst Sandwich! Canon typical violence

Angst-Fluff-ANGST

I had an urge to write this thought

Welp this has been in my drafts for months figured I might as well post it

Sort of part 2

—————————-

You loved Muichiro and Muichiro loved you. Every moment you two could, you spent together, hand in hand, everywhere. Anyone who knew either of you knew that where one of you was the other was sure to follow. Everyday was blissful. Pure, kind, and sweet.

You’d always get flowers and candy from him, always your favorites and you’d give him his favorites. He was so sweet and kind, never forgetting a thing about you. Oh, how in love you two were.

Until it happened. Yuichiro died. He was killed, by a demon. Muichiro’s memories were gone. He didn’t remember anything or anyone, not even you. You tried to remind him. Oh, how you tried. He didn’t know you, and he simply didn’t care.

Then you were separated. Muichiro went off to kill demons, not even sparing you a goodbye. Then again, perhaps you were the one foolish enough to wish for a goodbye from the boy who didn’t even know you.

You had decided then what you were going to do. Maybe it was a suicide mission, or perhaps it was a foolish desire to see him again, at least once. You had chosen to join the demon slayer corps.

It was two years before you saw Muichiro again. You spent days and hours just training, you survived the final selection, killing every demon that passed your path. You let your sadness and rage consume you, ruthlessly killing any demon.

By the time you became a hashira you had killed well over one hundred demons, but you refused to become a hashira until you’d taken down at least one of the twelve kizuki. Then the day came. You encountered the Lower Moon 6 and after a tough battle you came out on top, though you had some permanent scars down your arm.

Now finally, finally, to the delight of Ubayaka-sama, you had decided to become a hashira.

All the Hashira were present for your initiation ceremony, many were wary, for they had heard stories from the ones who were partnered with you on your missions. How you’re ruthless in killing demons yet so very kind off the battlefield.

Once you reached the ceremony, to your surprise, Muichiro was there. A hashira, how were you even surprised, you’d expect nothing less from your Muichiro. Not that he was yours anymore.

Everyone was kind and welcoming in their own way, surprisingly enough to everyone you became fast friends with Sanemi, well, as close as you could get to being friends with Sanemi anyways. Muichiro was a different story

Muichiro was always spacing out and he would forget things. He still adored looking at the clouds, often he’d steal you away from your training to gaze at the sky with him, that was all before of course.

He didn’t remember you, which stung more than you thought.

Walking around the hashira compound you thought on what to do. You were unsure of whether you should remind Mui of who you were or if you should leave him alone.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the boy in front of you. Pausing your stride only, when you had run into Muichiro.

“Oh! Sorry!” You said to Muichiro, apologetically.

“It’s alright,” he responded his tone soft, like he was here, but he wasn’t. He reached his hand forward towards you, not noticing the look of shock on your face. “You have a leaf in your hair”.

You tried to calm your heart as Muichiro plucked a leaf out of your hair. You weren’t sure what your poor heart had expected, or why it was beating so very fast.

After that, you and Muichiro would somehow end up seeing each other often. May it be in the halls or simply around the compound, you’d end up running into each other all the time. Maybe that’s why you made such a foolish decision. Maybe that’s why you decided, that you would try to win his heart, once again.

Whenever you’d see Muichiro now, you’d give him his favorite snacks or maybe his favorite flowers. You’d think of him on your missions and bring him back little trinkets from wherever you went.

Perhaps that’s how Muichiro came to like you again too. Secretly he enjoyed receiving your little gifts, enjoyed the attention. He actively sought you out, never admitting to it of course.

He’d be around you when he didn’t have a mission, following and waiting for whatever you had to say to him next. He’d watch the clouds with you when you two just felt like being lazy. He’d let you play with his hair when you were feeling down, adoring the way you’d smile when you were done styling it.

A few weeks later, you and Muichiro were closer than ever. Once he was back from his mission you were thinking of confessing to him again. Your thoughts drifted off to him once again, like they often did when he was gone. Though this time, your crow broke you out of your thoughts. It cawed at you, telling you to report back to Ubayaka-sama for another mission.

You reported back to the demon slayer headquarters, met with a hoard of about 10 demon slayers of the lower ranks. Entering Ubayaka-sama’s room you got down on your knees and payed your respects to him. As he let you rise, he explained the situation, there was an unranked and unreported threat on a peak not far from here and he needed you to go exterminate any demons, the lower ranked slayers were also being sent with you due to a shortage of the higher ranks.

The journey there was short once you had gathered the essentials, the other slayers good company on the way there. Yet you still missed Muichiro, you looked forward to him being back, to spending more time with him. You really did love him.

You reached the small mountain with the others and climbed half way up, pausing immediately. The hairs on your neck stood up straight, something felt wrong, dangerous. Though you had paused, half your group hadn’t, perhaps the ones used to hashira’s doing their own things.

It took only a moment for their bodies to be sliced in half. They didn’t even have a chance to scream. Blood drenched into the ground where they had once stood. Five bright and capable demon slayers, gone in the blink of an eye. Two screamed and tried to run the other direction, their heads were severed from their bodies. All that was left were you and three others, one of whom was hurling into the bushes right next to them.

You had to calm down, you had to focus. As the next one was killed, you spotted it. The weapon of murder. Small quick blades stabbing growing then retracting, slicing through your fellow demon slayers. As the blades retracted, you followed it back, yelling at the remaining two demon slayers to hide behind trees and get shelter. You dodged through the ones being shot out at you. Finally you reached the source, a vaguely humanized demon with six arms and legs made of goo. The blades that killed your comrades grew and retracted from his teeth.

The battle was hard fought, your stamina was running out. You had him, you nearly had him. Your blade was so close to his neck. So why? Why had one of the demon’s blades pierced your flesh, hitting vital organs and twisting on the way out. You were going to die. You were going to die and you wouldn’t be able to protect anyone. You wouldn’t be able to protect Muichiro. Muichiro. You’d miss him.

Just as you’d accepted your fate becoming demon food, a blur of blue and black flashed behind it. A slice and the demon was dead. Muichiro. He was here. He ran to you and held you in his arms. He was warm. Oh so warm.

“Muichiro,” your voice called out weakly, “you’re here. Before I die Mui, I have to tell you”

“Stop talking, it wastes energy. And you’re not going to die.” He cut you off as he wrapped a torn off strip of his haori around your midsection.

“I love you.” You knew you weren’t going to make it out of this so you have to tell him now while you still could. You had loved him as long as you could remember.

Your breaths are shallow and weak. Chest barely rising again. You were going to die. Die because he was a bit too late to save you. Just a minute that’s all it would’ve taken. Suddenly Muichiro remembered, memories of you and him came flooding back to him. Memories he didn’t even know he had.

“Muichiro,” you called again, snapping him out of his reverie. “please don’t forget me”

With that his attention was solely on you again as you bled out. You didn’t open your mouth again. Your eyes glossed over. You didn’t take another breath. You were dead. You had died in his arms. And there was nothing he could do about it.

“I love you too” He said, with tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t tell you that earlier. Why did he never tell you that earlier? Why why why. He had months, ages to tell you. So why now when you were dead and gone. He’d never get to hear your voice, your laugh. He’d never get to see your adoration filled eyes as you looked at him. He’d never get to feel your touch again, your hands playing with your hair softly.

He loves you, he always will. You used your last bit of strength to ask him not to forget you. A waste. After all, what good was his memory if he wasn’t to remember you? Remember you he would, he’d rather die than not.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

thinking how Dick always finds ways to hang out with his brothers. but reality is that, they have grown with different schedules and locations and responsibilities. his brothers have partners now. Jason is a dad for goodness sake.

Dick finds himself often emotional. he is a man nearing his 30's, but he still often misses his younger brothers.

so Dick tries.

Dick, calls Jason, who is in Star City: Hey, Little Wing. You free this Saturday? There's a new action movie. Want to check it out?

Jason, pouts at the other end of the phone: Sorry, Dickie. I have to attend to Lian's reading playdate at her friend's house. Roy refuses to go.

Dick, feels a pang on his chest: Oh, of course, yeah. I'm glad you're there to teach Roy how to read.

Jason, laughs which makes Dick smile: Hey, lay off! But maybe we can watch another movie next month? My schedule is kinda booked this month-

Dick, doesn't mean to cut his brother off: No problem, Jay. Next time, yeah? Maybe me and Wally can visit soon.

Jason: You both should. Lian is asking for her favorite uncles. Please don't tell Tim and Conner I told you that.

Dick, laughs: I'll see you soon, Little Wing. Miss you. Say "hi" to Lian for me. And "fuck you" to Roy for me.

Jason, chuckles which makes Dick smile again: You got it, Goldie. See ya!

Dick keeps trying.

Dick knocks on the door of Tim's room and cherishes this moment, because Tim is barely at the Manor. Well, none of them mostly are at the Manor for years now. He enters when Tim says "come in".

Dick: Timmy!! Want to try this new coffee-

he closes his mouth when he sees Tim in front of the mirror, wearing a suit and fixing a tie.

Dick, frowns: Oh, you leaving already?

Tim bites his lip as he concentrates to fixing the tie. Dick chuckles and approaches Tim to do it for him.

Tim: Yes, going to Metropolis for a business meeting. Then off to New York after, booked that hotel for me and Kon.

Tim gestures to the packed bag on the floor.

Dick, feels a pang on his chest: Oh, right right. I almost forgot.

he backs up and smiles at his brother.

Dick: Well, looks like you're ready to go. You look handsome, Baby Bird.

Tim, smiles: Thank you, Dick.

he gives Dick a quick hug and Dick wishes it was longer.

Tim: See you next week, Dick!

Dick: Have fun! See you, Timmy!

before Tim exists his room, he turns around.

Tim: You were saying something a while ago? Sorry, I didn't catch it.

Dick: It's nothing.

Tim: You better tell me when I come back. Bye, Dick!

Dick, says to the empty room: Bye...

and Dick keeps trying.

Dick is barely with Damian during patrols anymore, so he's glad his brother called for back up, since Bruce was in another planet with the Justice League. Damian has grown so much, he's been using new suits, because he has outgrown a few of the older ones.

Nightwing: Hey, Robin. Want to catch some Big Belly burgers after we freshen up?

Robin: I think I'll have to pass, Nightwing. Superboy is picking me up in a few.

Nightwing, feels a pang on his chest: Right, right. He better not drop you.

Robin, snorts, but he smiles so Nightwing smiles also: He would never.

before Nightwing leaves Robin on the rooftop, he leans down to kiss the top of his head. it hits him that very long ago, he acted as his father figure when Batman was gone.

Nightwing: Take care, okay? Love you.

Nightwing thought he would not get a response, but as soon as he turns around to head for home, he hears Robin.

Robin: Love you, Akhi.

Dick has come to accept that his brothers are grown up now. that maybe he wasn't part of their lives anymore, he could honestly cry-

so when the door opens of their house, he expects to see Wally, bringing flowers and food like usual, but he sees his brothers instead. Jason has a box on his hand, which happens to be a copy of the movie they were supposed to watch. Tim has a bag of coffee from the new cafe place. Damian has a bag from Big Belly Burger. and if there tears on his eyes when they hang out that night, at least he's got his brothers to cuddle with on the couch.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Favorite Season 6 fics

So these used to be called "Fic recs for my BFF", but unfortunately I was unable to sway her to buddie, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ these are just for me now (and you guys too I guess 😅)

Season 6

🔥Curl Up in My Heart and Let Me Keep You by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Animal Transformation | 10K | Teen): When an orange tabby cat starts hanging around the Diaz house, Eddie doesn't think anything of it. The little guy's cute and cuddly, and seems to always know when Eddie's having a bad time. Weird how the cat's never around when Buck is, though.

🔥let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-Coma AU | 54K | Explicit): “It’s just that—I died,” Buck continues, voice unsteady enough that Eddie wonders if this is the first time he’s acknowledged that out loud. “I died, and there’s so much more. There’s so much more I want to do, things I don’t even know I want to do yet, and I almost had the chance to have and live them taken away. I don’t want to die and regret missing out on everything else, Eddie.” “So let’s make a list,” Eddie says. “Let’s do them.” or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

🔥like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 51K | Explicit): The kid with blood pouring down his shins is not so far from the dog lonely enough that he thinks breaking his housetraining is worth it for the ten minutes of berating that come with it, the ten minutes of undivided, if reluctant, attention. Buck thinks, sometimes, that at least he wasn’t the kind of puppy that gets put in a sack and drowned at birth. He wasn’t always unwanted. And he isn’t anymore. or, evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

🔥Something Dumb to Do by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): "Too bad we can't just date each other." Eddie laughs. "What?" "No, I'm serious!" Buck sets his beer down, the better to gesture with both hands, face lighting up, and Eddie just—he really loves the guy, okay. Ridiculous as he is. "It would be so much easier! You wouldn't have to introduce a new person to Chris—he already likes me anyway—and you could tell Pepa so she'll stop setting you up on dates that don't go anywhere—" "And what would you get out of this?" Eddie asks, grinning. — Or: Buck and Eddie try something out together. (Part 1 of homeward bound)

🔥find a way to you (if it kills me) by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Pining | 19K | Mature): It’s something about the way Eddie phrases it. Something about the combination of his words and the way he’s staring down at the floor, and the flush in his cheeks and the way he’s fidgeting. Buck thinks, abruptly, he’s going to ask me on a date. “Well I - wanted to tell you first, and I need someone to watch Chris, anyways - I know he’s getting old enough now he doesn’t like feeling like he’s got a babysitter, so I was hoping - sorry. Not the point. Uh. I have a date on Saturday.” Just as abruptly as his own hopes had come soaring up above the cloud cover of his own unawareness - they go crashing back down to the floor - to the basement, and into the mud. “A date?” Buck rasps out. — the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

🔥Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel, Post-S6, Getting Together | 80K | Teen): When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica.

🔥 Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Coma AU, Multiverse | 58K | Teen): After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

🔥 Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

🔥 where all of the people dancing and clapping would greet me with such warmth by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Season 6, Magical Realism | 15K | Mature): In the fall, Buck begins to disappear. (or: Buck can see that people become transparent when they're about to die) (Part 2 of All I Am, All That I Am)

🔥 Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): "I've been wondering…" Maddie pauses, watches Buck make a face like he's bracing to be smacked. "What happened with Eddie? You two were dancing around it for so long, and then… what, it just didn't work out? Was the date really that bad?" She's expecting another wince, or even for him to duck out of the conversation entirely, but instead Buck is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Maddie. I've never been on a date with Eddie." Or: the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

🔥 situations, circumstances, miscommunications ( i just may like some explanations ) by heartbeatdiaz / @lonelychicago (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 4K | Teen): "You didn't know?" Eddie asks, calmer but not less confused. He frowns. "How could you not know?" "You never said anything?" Buck tilts his head to the side. "We were dating?” “I guess not,” Eddie sighs. His heart is beating a little faster, an unpleasant buzz beneath his skin as he all but chokes on a feeling he can’t quite name— it could be hurt or disappointment or maybe a mix of both. In that moment, he knows three things very clearly. 1. Buck is going to be the death of him. 2. He is in love with the most dense, most oblivious man on planet Earth. 3. He is too gay and, honestly, too old for this shit.

🔥listen to you breathing (is where I wanna be) by Yavilee/ @theladyyavilee (Presumed Dead | 41K | Teen): The thing is – and Eddie should have known this, has been taught this cruel lesson over and over and over again – the thing is most of the time the worst day of your life will start like just any other day. A million small moments, so familiar and mundane you almost don’t even notice them slipping by - until you would give anything to go back and get just one more. (You can’t.) — Or the one where Buck is presumed dead after a building collapse and Eddie has to live through the reminder that tomorrow isn't promised to anyone

🔥Eddie Diaz vs The Feelings by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (Season 6, Sexuality Crisis, Demisexual Eddie | 62K | Explicit): Eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. AKA demisexual!Eddie figures out he’s demi and finds the happily ever after he’s been longing for

🔥tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 43K | Mature): "Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin. "Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug." Two things happen at once then: Eddie has to plaster on a smile authentic enough to convince the one person on this planet that knows him inside out—except he doesn't really have to fake his smile, not at first, because of number two—he sees groom-Buck for the first time. And groom-Buck is every bit as beautiful as Eddie might have imagined him over the years. For a moment, Eddie falls into the greatest betrayal his brain has ever laid out for him, imagining that he might have got to see Buck like this for the first time from the other end of the aisle— (OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

🔥 Muscle Memory by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6, Amnesia AU | 40K | Teen): After a disappointment in his personal life, Buck wakes up one morning to find everyone he loves has forgotten him completely. No memories. No recognition. Almost like he was never really there.

🔥 but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-S6, Time Loop | 28K Mature): He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand. One: The date is March 22nd, 2024. Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now. Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day. Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him. And. And. Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

🔥 a blaze in the dark by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-S6, Eddie Coming Out | 117K | Explicit): Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

AUs

🔥Nothing Left But You by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars ("Blip" AU, Post-S4E13: Suspicion | 27K | Teen | Warning: MCD): In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie. In May of 2026, they all come back. Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

🔥 Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Canon Divergent - Supernatural Elements, Ghost Buck | 67K | Explicit): When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man. Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary. Their house is haunted.

🔥like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): He completely pulls the charger from the wall as he fumbles to put in his passcode. He doesn’t know who to call first. Everyone is busy, carrying on with their lives and Buck is stuck here in the loft with the terrifying ghost of his childhood like an omen. Out of the corner of his eye he catches the Crooked Smiled Man now standing in the dark entrance way to his bathroom. He swallows around the taste of blood in his mouth, hands shaking, useless as his list of contacts blur beneath the burn of tears. Eddie Eddie Eddie. He doesn’t know where the feeling comes from, but it’s sudden and sharp and excruciating. Eddie is the first name at the top of his list, his most recent calls and texts, and he doesn’t hesitate to hit the call button. [or buck can see ghosts au]

🔥All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 107K | Explicit): Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

🔥 Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 50K | Explicit): Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

🔥 let it pour out of your soul series by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Magical Realism AU, Witch Eddie | 3 works | 71K | Complete):

collectively unconsciously composed (S4E6: Jinx | 46K | Explicit): Or: in which the author re-watched Buck Begins and Jinx and thought: what if this was gayer and had actual magic?

that systematic drug (PWP | 5K | Explicit): Eddie’s mouth goes dry when he opens the door and sees Buck. He’s clean-shaven and with his hair carefully styled back, smiling at Eddie sweetly and a little teasingly. Buck is wearing his dark jeans and his light blue v-neck polo shirt, the one that’s tight enough that it shows off the bulge of his biceps and the definition of his pecs and abs. Eddie knows this shirt. Buck's favourite, because he knows he looks good in it.

something binding us together (Established Buddie | 20K | Teen): Or: Eddie plans a long-avoided visit to his parents, discovers some things about his magic, and begins to build his family a home in LA's witching community.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

his favorite girl, part i

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel agrees to teach you how to play guitar for a college course, but you can't keep your eyes off him long enough to learn. he really likes that.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, guitar teacher!joel, no outbreak, big age gap (reader’s 22, joel’s 56), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, slight dubcon, touching, smut for later chapters, some fluff, mostly angst

word count: 3.3k

a/n: my first chaptered fic! dedicated to joel's fingers! i've been playing guitar a lot more lately so...yeah 🥲 thinking this'll probably be 3 or 4 chapters? as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated! hope y'all enjoyy

Don’t stare at his fingers. Don’t stare at his fingers. He’s doing you a huge favor by teaching you to play guitar in the first place. The least you can do is pay attention and stop staring at his fingers. 

But it’s a lost cause, and you know it, because you’d have no hope of learning without staring at his fingers. 

Even so, you’re convinced he’ll somehow know that’s not the real reason you’re watching them so intently. The way they hop gracefully from fret to fret, strings biting into his well-earned calluses, producing the most beautiful chords that ring out perfectly with every strum. 

It’s a wonder any of that is even possible for him. You don’t mean to knock his talent—he obviously honed his craft through decades of fine-tuning and dedicated practice—but his fingers are just so thick.

With your clumsy, beginner’s touch, you’re constantly fumbling with the strings, unable to press down hard enough or keep your other fingers out of the way for them to vibrate the way they need to. They just sort of…fizzle.

But there’s a finesse to how he plays. It also helps that his guitar is a lot bigger than yours. It's a totally innocuous thought, but it still warms your cheeks a little. A big guitar for a big man. Broad and tall, with those thick, thick fingers—

“Hey, you still with me?” 

You’re not sure when he stopped playing, but you really hope it was right before he said something. Otherwise, he definitely knows exactly what you were thinking about, and that would be humiliating. 

Not a great start to your first guitar lesson, but how were you supposed to know your teacher was going to look like that? When your music theory professor recommended him, he conveniently left that part out, which, whatever, makes sense. But it still would’ve been helpful to know ahead of time.

Joel Miller. 56 years old. Has a ton of experience and takes on very few students, so you should consider yourself lucky. That’s all of the information you were given before you stepped into his house this afternoon, and were greeted by possibly the hottest man you’ve ever seen. He was supposed to be your ticket to an A on your senior thesis. But you’re totally flubbing it.

“Y-yeah, sorry, just got a little distracted,” you laugh awkwardly, wishing you had said anything else but that. You couldn't be any more obvious if you tried. “Won’t happen again, promise.” 

He’s kind enough to pretend you’re not a filthy liar and taps the neck of his guitar to redirect your focus. “S’alright. We’ll just take it from the top. You remember the fingerin' for the first chord?”

You gape at him dumbly for a second. He’s kidding, right? You might as well leave now if he’s going to keep saying fingering with that devastating Southern drawl of his. 

“Um, yeah, I think so,” you sputter, lying for the second time in a row. You're struggling to recall anything from your lesson but, god, you can only remember his fingers, not their placement. With no confidence whatsoever, you press your fingertips down firmly on the three strings you think he showed you. “Here, right?” 

He quirks a brow. “You askin’ me or tellin’ me?” 

Ah, so he’s that kind of teacher. The 'learn the hard way', 'fail on your own until you succeed' type. Well, he’s about to learn that you’re not that kind of student.

“…Telling?” Your voice lilts with even less confidence. He chuckles, nodding at your finger placement.

“Let’s hear it, then,” he says expectantly, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. You can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but you’re about to find out. You strum slowly, and the sound reverberates around the room. 

Wrong. 

His smile widens just a fraction as you grimace, quickly wrapping your hand around the neck of the guitar to stop the horrible noises still playing from it. You look over at him, wincing, but he doesn’t seem frustrated. If anything, he seems patient.

“Not quite,” he shakes his head, moving his instrument out of his lap so he can shift closer to where you’re sitting further down the couch. The cushion dips with his weight, and you tip into him slightly, but he remains completely unfazed. “Lemme show you again—and pay attention this time, alright?”

You start to nod apologetically, but then he throws an arm behind you on the back of the couch, and all hope of retaining whatever he’s about to teach you goes out the window. Instead of showing you on his own guitar, he gestures for you to hold yours up, gently arranging your fingers on the frets.

His fingertips whisper against yours like he’s hesitant to touch you, softly tugging them into place before pressing down, showing you the right amount of pressure to apply. 

They feel just as warm and rough as you’d imagined, dwarfing yours by a long shot, and the realization makes your fingers accidentally twitch out of place. Your eyes dart up to gauge his reaction and lock with his, deep and brown, and very amused. 

“Doin’ alright there?” he teases, and now you know he’s on to you. You try to play it off, blaming it on your inexperience.

“Just haven't gotten used to using those muscles yet," you mumble, moving your hand away from his to flex your fingers. "Not sure I've ever had to stretch them like that before."

 "'m sure ya have. Probably just didn't realize it at the time. That kinda muscle soreness comes from prolonged repetition—repeatin' an action over 'n over," he explains in that syrupy-sweet accent, completely unaware of how his words are affecting you. "Bet ya use those fingers for a lot'a different things every day, just nothin' long or strenuous enough to leave you achin'."

You bite your lip to keep from reacting. He has to know what he's doing right now. How he sounds. This conversation is starting to veer into dangerous territory, but the weird thing about it is that he genuinely doesn't seem to realize that everything he's saying has a double meaning. To you, at least. You knew all this fingering talk was going to get you into trouble. 

"Uhh, yeah," you agree, side-stepping that line of thought to bring yourself back to the lesson, but it's getting harder to stay focused. "I guess I just thought playing would mostly be memorization, but there's a lot of physicality to it, too, huh?" 

"Yeah, s'pose that's true," he muses, looking down at the calluses on his own hand. This time you refuse to take the bait, your breathing already too shallow, heart nearly pounding out of your chest with how close he's sitting. But he’s still completely calm and collected. "Your hand hurtin' a lot right now?"

You shrug, inspecting your reddening fingertips. "Kinda, yeah."

"It's like that in the beginnin’," he says kindly. "But the more ya play, the tougher the skin gets, and ya won't feel it as much." 

He surprises you by taking your hand again, massaging the tender skin between his thumb and index fingers. God, that feels so much better already. The heat of his fingertips seeps into yours, soothing the painful indents left by the unforgiving strings, and you let out a breathy sigh of relief. 

You feel his entire body tense palpably next to you. It might be your imagination or just wishful thinking, but you swear you can feel his warmth radiating into your side, somehow even closer than before. Your brain’s starting to fizzle more than the sound of your shitty guitar playing, and the room feels a little hotter. Hazier, like a daydream.

"That feel good?" he murmurs, lips practically brushing the shell of your ear.

Definitely closer.

“Y-yeah, feels nice…really nice,” you stutter, voice lowering almost to a whisper as if you were sharing a secret. “The, um—the rest of my hand is a little sore, too. Is that normal?”

You can feel him grinning at your obvious attempt to get him to keep touching you, and he gives in easily. Surprisingly so, and it's becoming clearer that he's as into whatever's happening right now as you are. You’re not sure what happened to the unfazed man from before, but you’ll happily welcome this change in demeanor.

“Yeah, s’normal,” he trails down to your palm, engulfing your hand with his own. “Don’t worry, I'll take care of ya.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his thigh presses into yours, and the arm behind you lowers around your shoulders, his hand skimming the side of your neck. Shit, what is going on? You’re pretty sure guitar lessons don’t usually go like this, but you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. Not when he feels this good.

Everywhere his skin touches yours feels electric, sending jolts up your spine, and making you forget where you are and what you were doing in the first place. He ducks down to press his lips to your bare shoulder, and your mind goes completely blank. 

All that's left is...sensation. Something dragging roughly across your skin, then soft—a little chapped—and wet. Sharp. You're abruptly aware of him sucking a hard bruise at the crook of your neck, soothing the sting with his tongue, and you're unable to stop the whimper that escapes your lips. It's soft and inappropriate. A single, hushed syllable.

"Joel."

He lets out a pained groan that rumbles from deep within his chest, and the hand around yours tenses. That boundless patience he had earlier feels like it's about to run out, and the thought makes your blood run hot. 

God, how is he real? How is this real? You just met this man—this much, much older man—less than an hour ago, and, yet, this is probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you. He continues to mouth up your neck, nipping at the underside of your jaw.

"What else hurts? Tell me, 'n I'll make it better," he mutters humidly, urgently against your skin. 

You want to tell him where it hurts the most. That unbearable ache between your legs, the burning in your belly that you didn't even realize he was stoking. But you're so wound up, all you can manage is a frustrated sob.

"Use your words, beautiful. C'mon, lemme hear 'em," he says as if you're his instrument, meant to produce dulcet tones and resonate at his hand.

"It—fuck...it—here," you drag the hand clutching yours down, next to where the body of your guitar rests on your thigh. Where you've already soaked through the thin fabric of your pants. "Joel...need you to make it better."

The gentle vibrato of your voice, the way it shakes tumultuously around his name, and even more so when he cups your heat. His lips return to your throat to feel it, to taste it as you moan for him. And those fingers. You knew they’d feel good, and they’re so close to where you need them. Just a little bit more—but there’s still too many layers between you and his rough touch. 

“M-more…need more, just—,” you whine, and he mirrors the sound back at you raggedly.

“‘Course, beautiful. Told you I’d take care of ya, didn’t I? 

You're too far gone to even notice yourself desperately grinding into the palm of his hand, or the fingers at your cheek turning your face toward his. 

Or your guitar quickly slipping out of your lap, more and more with each swivel of your hips. It hits the carpet with a hollow clang and, suddenly, the spell is broken. Then, it all comes crashing back. 

He’s saying your name, but he sounds...different. Less breathy, less needy, and more like your patient, collected guitar teacher. Joel Miller. 56 years old, remember? Way too old for you, for your body to be reacting to him like this, and the man whose help you still desperately need to help complete your thesis.

Your eyes snap open and you realize with abject horror that you’ve been daydreaming this entire time. You can’t even imagine how long he’s been trying to get your attention while you’ve just been sitting here, fantasizing about his hands on you. 

Not even ten minutes ago, you promised you wouldn’t get distracted, but you did. Again. And so much worse this time.

By his furrowed brow and the way he won’t even look at you, you must have accidentally said something out loud, too. Something totally inappropriate that you really shouldn’t have. But then, his hand twitches and your blood turns to ice. 

That—fuck, that's not where it was before you zoned out. It was still on yours, arranging your fingers on the frets for the chord he was teaching you. He…he was asking about your hand, if it hurt, and then—

As if you’ve been burned, you quickly release his hand from where you’re clutching it between your legs—not just in your daydream, but in horrifying actuality. You’re screwed. 

Not only is he probably going to kick you out of his house and refuse to be your teacher anymore, but he’ll likely tell your professor. And he’d have every right to. There’s no way you’ll be able to get anyone else to teach you after this.

The reason you’re here, everything you’ve worked so hard for, flashes before your eyes, catching fire and turning to ash. Your love for music, your degree—in the span of a single guitar lesson, you destroyed all of it.

And what would he think? Your father, your inspiration for choosing this path. He’d be so disappointed in you, though maybe not as much as you are right now. 

All of this for what? The attractive, middle-aged guitar teacher you’ve known for less than an hour? He doesn’t even want you and, even if he did, that’s not what you came here for. Stupid, stupid. 

You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t bear to look at him, to say anything at all. Instead, you lean down to retrieve your guitar from where it still lies face down on the floor, and slowly stand up. 

“I, uh…,” you croak out, fighting the urge to cry and look like even more of an idiot. You shake your head, unable to finish your sentence, and start to walk away, but then something miraculous happens.

Joel’s hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to keep you from leaving. You turn back to him, eyebrows raised in shock, dropping your gaze to where his skin is touching yours. He doesn't let go. 

“Look—,” he starts, and you wince. It’s never a good sign when someone starts a sentence like that. If all he’s trying to do is let you down easy, he shouldn’t have stopped you. He’s just shaming you even further. “—‘m not too sure what just happened here, but if you just—if ya sit back down, we can talk about it or…just keep goin’ with the lesson…”

You didn’t see that one coming. 

“You want me to stay?” you ask dubiously. “Why?”

You search his eyes for the answers to all of the things you’re not understanding, but come up with nothing. He’s sitting on the couch watching you, still holding your hand like nothing’s wrong. Acting like none of this is a big deal, as if you didn’t basically just shove his hand down your pants without his consent.

“Still got a lot to teach ya. We didn’t even get through the first line of music,” he chuckles, his voice filled with such kindness. So much more than you deserve. 

“Yeah, and that’s my fault. I—,” you pause, still trying to gather your thoughts, “—I crossed a line…made you uncomfortable. You really don’t have to do this.”

He sighs, rubbing his thumb soothingly into your wrist, and the gesture makes you shiver. Somehow it’s calming, even as the gears continue to turn in your head. You still can’t seem to grasp any of this or shake the feeling that there’s something wrong with this picture. 

“Well, isn’t this supposed to be a favor for some big, important grade? Don’t ya need this to pass your class?”

He’s not wrong. Without his help, you’re basically fucked for the rest of the semester.

“Yeah, I...actually really do,” you answer hesitantly.

Hope blooms in your chest. Maybe your thesis isn’t totally lost. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even be able to focus on your lessons.

“I think we can keep this professional. Don’t you?” he implores, brows raised.

He’s right again. That’s the only way this is going to work, but it’s still a reminder that he’s not interested in you in the slightest. You’re not sure why that feels so bad.

“Totally,” you breathe out, but your expression must betray your words because he rushes to reassure you.

“It’s not that I—look, I mean…you’re a beautiful girl ‘n all, but…,” he trails off, and…what?

Beautiful. He can’t have just said that out of the blue. Beautiful, of all the words he could’ve used to describe you right then. This man is driving you crazy—and he won’t stop.

“Can’t help feelin’ like maybe I gave ya the wrong impression. I took advantage of ya,” he looks away, pained, like this was all his fault. You have no idea how he came to that conclusion, but he’s got it all wrong.

“What—no. No, if anything, I took advantage of you. You were just trying to be a good teacher,” you shake your head furiously. “Look, I did this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t pull away, now, did I?” 

His eyes meet yours again, darker than before, and you know for a fact you’re not making it up this time. The setting sun is casting shadows around his living room, across his 80s-style leather couch and carpet, illuminating every one of his handsome features. 

And, yet, his eyes are black, endless voids that threaten to consume you. Whatever power he has over you feels dangerous. You knew you couldn’t have imagined it all. 

But it's gone as quickly as it came. He clears his throat, dropping your wrist as if he finally came to his senses. Your patient, unaffected guitar teacher is back.

“I, uh, think maybe that about wraps it up for today,” he says with finality, standing up. “It's already eight, anyhow. You should head on home.”

Gently plucking the guitar from your hands, he zips it up in its case and gives it back to you. You nod, feeling grateful, but cautious...and also extremely curious. His hand finds the small of your back, leading you to the front door, and you try your best not to react as his fingers urge you forward. 

You know you’ll be thinking about them later tonight, even though you really shouldn’t. About them finishing what you started earlier, taking care of you like you still want him to. Part of you hopes he’ll be thinking about yours, too. 

His hand drops and he turns to you with a small smile, leaning on his arm against the doorframe. 

"But, uh, same time tomorrow? And maybe put in a little practice time before then—stretch out those fingers so you're ready to play."

“Sure,” you reply breathily. “Same time tomorrow.”

thanks for reading! part ii coming soon 🥰

(p.s. how are we feeling about finger sucking...okay bye)

[punksocks]

Astrology Observations: No.29

*only based on my observations, only take what resonates

(Oml I didn’t realize that I haven’t written out a proper observations post since May?? I’m so sorry y’all life has been crazy b u s y and the world has been on fire due to colonialism, but I’m going to write more again 🙃 I love astrology but existence is wild y’all)

-I had a client say Geminis always get Gemini tattoos.. while getting a Gemini tattoo lol (and they were right!!) (Leo suns are second most likely imo)

-mutable venuses like changes in fashion a lot, they tend to go through fashion phases



-Every Pisces sun I’ve met has said they don’t really like being a Pisces at least once. Which is so interesting because Pisces sun isn’t a placement in determent, Libra is ! And I think 9 times out of 10 Libras will say they love being Libras (or it’s a huge part of their personality fr)

-My favorite thing I’ve heard from a Libra sun I knew was that they hated doing all of the things that made them appear socially functional so I said “why do you do it? why not just stop doing what you hate?” and they just looked blank like they couldn’t even imagine not conforming (even though they were an aqua moon)

-Ok so I’ve been wondering why I’ve had repetitive instances of some people being passive aggressive and w e i r d at my main job when I literally own the business and I’m their boss?? But it’s that Lilith in 10th. No one is neutral about your energy and you can rub folks the wrong way just by minding your business. I don’t like it but especially at work bc I’m a Capricorn and this isn’t productive >:/ lol

-Oh another Lilith touching Asc observation is when people start a conversation with me like 60-75% of the time they try to challenge me or ask lowkey rude questions (sneak diss shit lol) like 3 different people asked me what tattoo I regret the most and I was like ??? Hello? Who are you? Lol these streets oml…

-cancer placements can be really centered on defending their self, their perspective, their family, their community (they don’t have to be but it can be a common trait). I just noticed the pattern after ages of wondering why cancer was associated with nationalism on a wide scale. (Pluto in Cancer generation and the rise in nationalism after ww2 for example)

-I feel like Sagittarius placements (especially the big 3) will always be ready to do something new and life changing at any age (moving abroad, going on vacation and exploring new places, getting their first tattoo, anything that seems like it’ll open the door to a set of new experiences)

-Strong mars and mercury energy can make someone brutal in arguments (air mars, Virgo and Gemini mars, even Kendrick is an example he destroyed Drake- and Kendrick has mars conjunct Mercury and a Gemini sun)

-Sag Venus culture is being clingy because you need a lot of attention/stimulation and suddenly ditching when you don’t get enough attention/stimulation to keep your interest 🥴 (even more with sag mars since they’re action oriented, they’re in the same camp imo lol)

-I blame America’s Aquarius moon for the cultural phobia of being too “irrational” or “emotionally expressive” ….while being known as being too passionate and irrational in many non US cultures (also the US and the emotional detachment for the sake of “progress”, dark side of this placement but thematic nonetheless)

-imo when sun’s transiting your Lilith you can feel like a lot of attention is on you, sometimes good but often pretty scrutinizing. I also feel like you can achieve some impossible things during this transit due to Lilith’s energy (she’s built for rebellion, so when a lot of criticism is pointed her way she finds an unconventional way to come out on top)

-I have so much writing to do but if there are specific placements you want me to do observations on, let me know in the comments and my inbox!

[justwinginglife]

No because your writing keeps me going in this Soshiro Hoshina AO3 drought!!!!!!!

What do we think about our Vice Captain getting in some trouble during a battle with a nasty Kaiju and his long time friend/crush who is a platoon leader in another division just so happens to be on her way to visit the 3rd division when the attack happens so she swoops in to save the day (and stitches him up after the whole ordeal ;))???

So glad I could provide sustenance! I am also keeping myself afloat with my writing trying to stay sane until season two comes out. I need more Hoshina screentime fr fr.

Crushing Hard

Soshiro Hoshina had dinner plans and he was late.

He cursed the kaiju for its poor timing. It was one thing to have to fight a kaiju on a Saturday - how inconsiderate of it to attack on his day off- and another to have to fight it before a date. At least he thought it was a date. He never knew with you. He hoped it was a date. He'd been pining after you for so long, it made his whole week (his whole month, really) that you'd texted him asking if you could swing by and have dinner this weekend.

He had just fixed his hair for the tenth time (he didn't know why he felt the need to fix it so much, it looked the same every time he fixed it), when he got the call that there was a kaiju wreaking havoc. And only a couple blocks away from where you were supposed to meet him for dinner, no less. He would really beat the shit out of the kaiju if it destroyed the restaurant he had planned to take you to.

So he quickly threw his combat suit on over his date clothes, hoping it would be a quick and easy mission, and he'd be ready to greet you at the door in no time at all. Yeah, that had been wishful thinking. This Honju really had it out for him.

In fact, the damn Honju had even sliced through part of his combat suit, tearing through the top he was wearing underneath.

"This was my favorite fucking shirt, damnit!" He curses at the Kaiju and runs at it again, swords at the ready.

The thing about this Honju was that it wasn't very big but it was very quick. Hoshina was exhausting himself just keeping up with it. It was almost like it was made to fight Hoshina, with its strengths lying in speed and close combat. And to make matters worse, without meaning to, Hoshina's mind kept wandering to his dinner with you, causing him to be slower to react than normal. He took a cut to the cheek and swore again. If he took anymore hits, he didn't know if his pride would let him show up to dinner looking like this.

"You know, I really didn't think you'd be treating me to dinner and a show, but you always were the overachiever."

Before he even had time to process who was talking, a large blast went off and the Honju suddenly has a gaping hole in its abdomen.

"Huh. Sturdy thing, aren't you? Let's try that again." Another blast and now its chest is missing.

Hoshina blinks, watching as you continue blasting the kaiju until it's nothing more than roadkill on the pavement. He should be helping you, he should be bandaging himself up, he should be getting food in the both of your stomachs. So many things to do, but all he wants to do is stare. You look so gorgeous with a gun. The way you wipe blood from your cheek, the way your ponytail lifts in the wind, the way that you smirk at the corpse, smug about your win. He wants to take in everything about you.

"You look like you need a drink." Now you were turning around, grinning at him. He thinks to himself that he could watch you forever.

"Soshiro?"

He shakes his head quickly. "Sorry. Must be the blood loss."

You laugh. "Well let's take care of that and then you owe me some dinner, as I recall." You start cleaning him up and he continues to watch you as you handle him with such care.

You pull the combat suit off of him, revealing his torn shirt underneath. "Ah damn. That was your favorite shirt. And mine too. Love when you wear this thing, I'll have to buy you a new one." You continue bandaging him like you haven't just said something that gets his heart racing.

"Mmm, I know, I have one of your shirts in my bag. You can change into that and then we can hit up that restaurant if you're still up for it?"

He nods, a little too quickly you notice. It's adorable.

Then he cocks his head to the side. "Wait, why do you have one of my shirts?"

Then it's your turn to blush. "Ahh that... well it just looked so comfy, can you really blame me for stealing it?"

His eyes widen. "Wait just a minute, how many of my shirts do you have??"

You cough. "Just the one- why do you ask?"

He crosses his arms at you and raises an eyebrow. "Because I was wondering why my closet was looking a little sparse lately. And I thought maybe the washer just ate them all."

"Haha... funny... uh, about that..." You scratch your head sheepishly.

He roll his eyes in mock annoyance but then he smiles. "I'm sure you look better in them than I do anyway. I suppose you can keep them. But you owe me some new shirts!"

You laugh, holding your hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Will do. After you buy me dinner, I did just save your sorry ass." You tease.

And the two of you continue on like that the rest of the night, just joking, laughing, drinking, and slowly the line between friends and more than friends starts to blur. Hoshina thinks to himself, maybe he does have a chance in hell with you.

After all, who the fuck steals half of someone's closet?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sure I can't convince you to ditch Narumi and join my division instead? I make a mean omurice."

[dreamyinception-world]

𝒜 𝒮𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉

pairing: Fem Gamer!reader + Jung Wooyoung

w/c: 2k

Genre: Established Relationship, Smut, Slight Angst (woo is a sad boy for two secs)

Summary: On a day of virtual gaming and fun with your friends, a monthly tradition that you all enjoy, your boyfriend arrives home with some small favor that you simply can’t deny. 

Tws: Swearing/Foul Language

Sws: Pussy Eating (Woo goes mf IN my guy), Sensory Stimulation/Kink, Hair Pulling, Teasing, Overstimulation, Oral Fixation, Thigh Smothering, Pleasing Sub Woo (for the most part at least), Begging, Pussy Face Fuck, Slight Orgasm Denial

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: If the brain keeps cooking, let her cook as I always say. This is an idea that came to me randomly as I was getting ready in the morning. If anyone would like another part of this shot, please let me know! Otherwise enjoy and please let me know what you think. Thank you!

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕚𝕕 + ℕ𝕠𝕟𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕! ℙ𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥!

As a reminder, my work is only for those who are eighteen years or older. Anyone who attempts to interact with my work or blog who is underage will be blocked immediately. You have been warned.

©𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 2024 || 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ♡

☆ . ° .*₊° . ☆⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔  𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙𓆩⟡𓆪⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡...⋙. • ☆ . ° ☆

“Hey, Y/N! You missed your shot! What happened?”

“S-Sorry! My computer’s acting weird!” 

Your fingers tightened around the ridges of your controller, trying to keep your breathing leveled and your body relaxed. 

You could only hope that you didn’t sound too weird on the other line where your friends were talking and having playful banter. 

It was game night after all, the titular moment of the month where everyone chooses their favorite game to play for a few hours to relax and unwind from the hustle and bustle of life and its demanding nature.

It had become somewhat a tradition after completing college and going on with your separate lives to keep in touch somehow— even if it meant through pixelated hand to hand combat.

Unfortunately for your friends, and consequently yourself, they didn’t have an oh so loving yet sometimes mischievous boyfriend named Wooyoung to subdue.

Genuinely, the moment of pure suspicion should have come when he entered the room 15 minutes ago, an all too sweet smile lingering on his face as rolled over beside you. With a phone in his hand and otherwise rapt attention to the shooter game your crew had indulged in, you had honestly thought nothing of it.

It wasn’t until about less than halfway through your match that you began to notice his demeanor become a bit..off out of your peripherals. 

His glances at you began to linger a bit longer, his eyes combed down your figure with longer glances towards your favorite fluffy panda shorts and matching over the knee socks. 

He was debating something, but you were too absorbed in the game with your mic turned on to ask him.

It wasn’t until his hand fell onto your thigh, brushing his thumb against it that you knew something was up. 

Once the first match finally came to a close, you excused yourself and muted your mic.

“Baby, do you need to ask me something? You were waiting so long, I’m sorry.”

The boy perked and you almost immediately noticed the way the top of his cheeks began to tinge a light shade of pink.

“Mm, no it’s okay. I don’t want to keep you away from your game-” His words were cut off by a small, loving peck with a warm smile. You cupped his cheeks, hearing your friends chattering on the other line through your headsets.

“It’s okay, I have some time. What is it, Woobie?”

He hesitated, biting the inside of his lip with eyes flickering between your computer screen and your face. The longer he took to respond, the more concerned you started to become.

Were you playing so much that he felt nervous to ask for your attention?

“Wooyoung? Are you-”

“I wanted to taste you.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out. “H-Huh?”

Wooyoung cleared his throat, shifting himself in his computer chair, his eyes glued to the ground.

“We haven’t messed around or anything in a while— I know you’ve been busy and so have I so it’s been difficult for us to both be in the mood and not too tired for it to happen.” He took in a short inhale and looked directly into your eyes.

“But I miss you so badly and it’s driving me crazy..please?”

It took a minute for your mind to system reboot after his confession before you cupped his cheeks, pressing a more lingering kiss onto his lips. When the two of you separated, you searched his face for any lingering feelings besides the evident lust and desire.

My poor baby..

“Yo where the hell is she? I wanna start the next round~”

“I don’t know! Y/N! Are you there?”

“Sorry guys! I needed to help Wooyoung with something. I’ll be there in just a sec!” You released your finger off the speaker button, turning your attention back to your patient lover, waiting for your response still.

With fingers combing lovingly through his hair, you give him a small nod of approval. He almost immediately shakes his head, taking your hand and presses open mouth kisses to the back of them.

“I need to hear you say it. Do you want me to please you?”

You bite the inside of your lip, feeling yourself throb at the sensation of his tongue running slowly against your knuckles. He doesn’t push you for a response, leisurely continuing his actions down your hand to your fingertips.

He fixes you with a calm, yet sweltering stare, finding back a laugh or smile at the way you seemingly shrink back in response.

“O-Okay you can. Just don’t make me mess up too hard on my game. I d-don’t want the others to-AH!”

Wooyoung barely wastes any time after being given the green light, kicking his chair back towards his desk after grabbing the cushion from off of it. He finds his way comfortably on the floor, pulling you forward by your legs and stirring a yelp out of you. He mumbles something about how good you smell and the cuteness of your outfit whilst simultaneously yanking your bottoms off in one fell swoop.

That’s how you got here, with your one leg being held off to the side and the other perched onto your needy boyfriend’s shoulder, panties “unfortunately” being ripped and his tongue dragging against your clit.

You were silently ordered by his glance and a raise of an eyebrow to continue playing your game, biting back a small moan that was threatening to fall past your lips as he glided his tongue up and down your whole core.

He let out a small hum, not loud enough to be heard by anyone but you and him, reaffirming his grip possessively as he languidly spit on your clit. He watched it slowly trickle down before slurping around the slightly puffy bud.

Your muscles tightened in his grasp, mouth drawing open into a small ‘o’ with half lidded eyes, struggling to keep yourself focused enough to follow the orders given by your team.

Every single ounce of the game contrasted with the pure torture that you were being subjected to, albeit by your own approval.

And of course tonight was the one night that he decided to take his time to make every string keeping you together would slowly begin to snap.

He moved his hands up to your waistline, keeping himself pressed against you and rendering your lower half completely at will to him, shifting your dripping cunt up and down against his tongue with dark eyes. 

“Take the shot, Y/N! Take it!”

You practically slammed your thumb against the button of your controller, the boom of your weapon cracking into your ears though you barely registered if your aim was even correct. Your body slid a quarter down, controller barely hanging on one hand as you gripped the top of Wooyoung’s hair and rolled down in unison.

“M-Mm!” You pressed your lips together, removing your hand to shakily press a button on your headphones and shoving them off your head with the mic turned away from your mouth, sweat dripping down your chin as you fought the urge to beg.

His lips upturned at the sight of your disheveled look.

Not yet, just a little more.

You held back a whine when his speed slowed, believing that maybe he was going to take mercy on you with the kisses pressed to your inner thighs, and turned your attention back to the game.

Though your movements were slowed from your head nearly spinning, you continued on with the match.

Moments later, he had his eyes on you again, sucking one of your lips hard in his mouth and letting it out with a loud pop. 

Before you could even begin to lightly scold him, he pushed down on your mound with his palm and flicked his tongue quickly against your clit before groaning and burying his face into you, sucking on your clit hungrily and messily. 

He ignored the mix of drool and juices that ran down his chin and dripped onto the chair. His only care in the world was the way your eyes immediately screwed shut and your chair creaked in protest from being bent backward. 

Wooyoung’s eyes nearly rolled at the sensations of your fluffy socks brushing against his ears and pressure of your thighs around his head, brushing his tongue against your entrance before abusing her swollen bud between his lips.

“W-Woo, p-please!” The cry slipped past your lips without a second thought, unable to control the tremble of your thighs and flexing of your stomach muscles as you inched closer to your release.

“You don’t have to beg baby.” He purred, taking the short second to breathe with lips shimmering.

“I’ll give you anything you want and more.”

He dipped his head back down, reveling in the filthy noises that were erupting from your mouth as he slurped loudly, nodding his head and tightening his hold on you hard to keep you from running away from him.

You’ve almost completely forgotten about your game now, instead chasing the sweet high that has you reaching for anything to steady yourself. 

With one hand gripping the head of the chair and the other one his head, your whole body jolts with a sharp and shaky moan, cumming on his face. 

He wickedly lets out a muffled chuckle, eyes falling closed to collect his prize against your feeble pushes of his head and whines of desperation. Satisfaction on his face, he finally releases you and earns a swift smack to the back of his head.

“Y-You said you weren’t going to distract me too much from my game!”

“I didn’t say anything.” His voice dripped with lust still, moving himself up to your face with a lazy smile. Your eyes narrowed at him with an arm slung around his shoulders, allowing him to enjoy your deep kisses and tongue before you tugged him back by his hair.

“Are you going to punish me? Do it. Please?” You shook your head in disbelief, seeing him smile wide and laugh.

“Yo, Y/N! At least mute your mic if you’re going to have a live session with your boyfriend!”

You push Wooyoung off of you and scramble to slide your headsets back on, only to realize that the button you pressed was for noise cancellation, not muting.

“Oh my god, I cannot believe I had to be subjected to that! And it was in the middle of our game?!”

“Next time, just tap out of the round!”

A chorus of laughter erupted over the call mixed in with you cursing them out through stutters and your burning cheeks, yelling for them to stop teasing you.

Snapping your head around to the doorway, Wooyoung made himself comfortable leaning against the frame, swiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and lightly sucking on it with a smirk.

“You are so fucking dead.” 

.☆ . ° . *₊ ° . ☆. °:. *₊ 🄶🄰🄼🄴 🄾🅅🄴🅁!.. • ☆ ᵗʳʸ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ!.　 . • ☆ . °:. *₊ ° .☆

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: @atiny-piratequeen @atiny-dazzlinglight @kimnamshiks @little-lazuli @catnipacid

.☆ . ° . *₊ ° . ☆. °:. *₊ 🄶🄰🄼🄴 🄾🅅🄴🅁!.. • ☆ ᵗʳʸ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ!.　 . • ☆ . °:. *₊ ° .☆

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part II

Thank you to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading and letting me be insane in her DM's ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: None

Part I ~ Part III

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh as you finish your closing duties, giving the door one last pull to make sure it was locked with a tired sigh. You walked around to the back of the building, heading up to your apartment that was very conveniently located on top of your store. You kick the door shut behind you, haphazardly throwing your shoes in the entryway. You put the kettle on the stove, leaning against the counter and looking out the window as you waited for the water to boil. Your mind immediately wandered back to Vessel, your short interaction had left you with so many unanswered questions. Where did he come from? Why did he choose this sleepy little town of all places to settle down? Was he actually part of a cult? He was so different from what you had imagined. Hearing all the reports in the paper you had been terrified to run into any of them. Vessel, in what scraps of his personality you had seen, seemed so gentle. You were snapped from your thoughts by the sound of the kettle singing.

"At least our mystery man has a name now." You chuckle to your empty apartment. You guess you would just have to wait and see what tomorrow brought.

Music blasted through the speakers in the empty store, you sang along loudly with your favorite songs as you worked on restocking the shelves. You groaned as you hoisted one of the heavy crates of produce off the counter. You screamed, oranges scattering across the floor as you lost hold of the crate. There standing at the door was Vessel. Seeing that he had finally caught your attention, he pointed to his wrist as if he was motioning to a watch. You paused your music and quickly headed over to open the door for him. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to tell you we close early tonight." You blurt out the second you open up. Your eyes land on Vessel, this was the first time you had been standing in front of him without the barrier of the counter. He was a lot taller than you had realized, you stumbled back slightly to put some distance between you and the absolute wall that was his body. "Every Sunday I have to restock the store, I close at four."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll just-"

"No!" You exclaim, waving your hands wildly in front of you. "No, really, it's my fault. You come in and get what you need, just don't mind the mess. It'll take me a couple minutes to reopen the register." You motion him inside, he follows you hesitantly. He looks around the store, various pallets and stacks of crates are organized into neat categories waiting to be put away. From what he could see it was definitely more work than one person should be handling by themselves.

"Is it just you that works here?" You nod in response as you drop onto your knees to start collecting the oranges you had dropped. Your hand jerked back as your fingers bumped into Vessel's. Your eyes dart up to look at him, "it's my fault you dropped the crate, I'd like to help you pick up a little if that's alright." He says softly as he remains completely still. He could tell being so close to him made you nervous, yet it was somehow different than interactions he had in the past. You weren't scared, more… shy.

"You don't have to go to all that trouble, Vessel, really." You try to reassure him.

"And you shouldn't be alone trying to restock all of this inventory by yourself." You almost rolled your eyes at the statement.

"I've been managing just fine by myself for the last seven years, I think I can handle a spilled crate of fruit." He chuckles at your determined tone.

"I never said you couldn't," he returns to the task of picking up produce as he talks. "I'm saying you shouldn't have to. You work hard, I can tell by how meticulously your store is always maintained." He trails off for a moment, not exactly sure how to phrase his next statement. "I guess I'm just curious as to why you don't have any help."

"There isn't anybody I like enough to have them work here with me." You smile. "This place is my home, literally, my apartment's upstairs." He shakes his head with a slight laugh. "If they aren't someone I would invite into my home they're not someone I would want to spend hours upon end in here with them. Besides, I like working, it keeps me occupied." Vessel finishes helping you clean up. "You go get your groceries, I'm sure you have a long drive back to… your camp? House?"

"Camp works." He quips. You head up to the counter to get the register up and running again, knowing his supply runs never took long. You found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. The strange red sigil in the center of his white mask, the ornate detailing on the bottom edge, the black paint that covered every area of exposed skin, everything about him just made you curious. Your eyes snapped to your register as he glanced in your direction and you swore you heard the sound of him quietly chuckling. He carries his groceries up to the counter and lays them out.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask me as many questions as you want, I can't guarantee I'll answer." He responds bluntly.

"What made you decide to finally start talking to me?" He seemed a bit taken aback by your question, not expecting you to be so forward.

"It's no secret that a lot of people don't like the fact that we're around. Luckily, the only real nuisance we've had to deal with are the reporters, but I'm still worried about what would happen if we ventured too far into town. But, we needed supplies. We could only last so long on the sorry excuse of a garden we managed to start when we originally bought the land, your store is relatively close by and out of the way. As far as why I started talking to you, you're the only person I've met from this town so far that hasn't greeted me with hostility." Vessel laughs softly at your shocked expression. "I'm tired of running (Y/N). Tired of having to move from city to city every other month to try and keep ahead of the backlash from people who don't understand us. If I'm going to do that I need a place to come get supplies where I won't immediately get chased off, someone I can trust in my time of need… after some thought I think you might be that person. There's something special about you, I think we were fated to meet each other, I'm just not sure why yet."

"Well, I appreciate that." You can't help but smile at the admission. He trusted you. "If there's anything I can ever do to help you guys out, just say the word."

"Actually, there is something. Would it be alright if I start coming to grab supplies after you close, at least on Sunday's?" He asks.

"Of course you can. I was actually going to ask if that would work better for you." You admit with a chuckle. "I know that a lot of people around these parts tend to be pretty… close minded, to put it gently. I think it's smart for you to wait until you're ready to have those interactions." He nods his thanks at your agreement, collecting his belongings, and heading towards the door.

"Next Sunday it might not be just me, don't be intimidated." He dismissed himself with a chuckle, leaving you to finish restocking.

You pondered over who exactly he would be bringing with him. No one knew for sure how many members there were living in the woods, from what you had seen everyone except for Vessel dressed relatively similar. You were tempted to ask him throughout your daily visits, but you also didn't want to pry. As next Sunday arrived you kept anxiously looking up at the clock, waiting for closing time to roll around. You bid farewell to your final customer as you locked up. Just as you had pulled the key from the deadbolt you saw the familiar sight of an old, beat up pick up truck rumble into the parking lot. Vessel got out, talking to whoever was seated in the passenger seat before heading in your direction. You waved at him, opening up the door and stepping outside. "Is your friend coming in too?" You ask quietly as he gets closer to you.

"Yeah, he is. I just wanted to tell you something first. II isn't much of a talker until he gets to know people… He also has a staring problem." You laugh, Vessel returns your enthusiasm with a smile.

"If I can handle you giving me the silent treatment for a full week I think I can handle it big guy, don't worry." He waves at his friend to come join you. You waited in anxious anticipation as the passenger door opened, two heavy black leather boots thudding against the pavement as someone jumped out. The slam of the door echoes through the surrounding trees as you finally could see just who Vessel brought with him. II was a bit shorter than Vessel with a lean frame. His striking blue eyes met yours through the holes in his mask, black cloth with the same rune that adorned Vessel's, yet his covered the entirety of his face.

"II, this is (Y/N)." He slowly approaches you, you could tell he was studying you. He offers his hand which you timidly accept. His hand was warm around yours as he feigned the action of bringing your knuckles to his lips, his eyes never leaving your face. "Come on, I didn't bring you to flirt with her." You see the corners of II's eyes crinkle as he chuckles at Vessel's joke. He straightens up, moving swiftly to the door, holding it open and motioning for you to walk inside.

"Thank you II." You smile sweetly at him. Vessel claps him on the back as he walks past.

"We're here to help, what do you need?" He offers kindly.

"Oh, I couldn't ask you both to do that." II steps forward, offering you his arm. You cautiously take it with a curious expression. He leads you to your chair behind the counter, pulling it out for you to sit. He rolls up his sleeves, picking up the first box of stock he saw and searching for its tag.

"See? You don't even have to ask?" Vessel chuckles. You got your restock done in half the time you normally did with their help. Vessel stood in front of the register as you rang him up, smoking smugly. "Wasn't that easier than doing it all yourself?"

"What? You looking for a job?" You shoot back, you hear II breathe out a chuckle at your joke. You bag up his groceries, handing them off with a smile. "II, hopefully I'll see you next week." He nods his goodbye as he heads out the door.

"I think he likes you." Vessel jokes.

“He’s sweet.” You giggle. “If your whole group is this nice you’re welcome in my store anytime.” Vessel smiles at your statement.

“You’ll meet the others eventually, I think they’d enjoy getting to know you.” He starts walking towards the door, shooting you a flirtatious smirk. You waved goodbye to them through the window, catching II’s gaze as they drove off. The next night as you sat reading at the counter you smiled as the familiar sound of Vessel’s sputtering engine met your ears as he pulled into the lot. You looked up as the bell jingled over the door, your greeting froze in your throat as you realized it wasn’t Vessel who had entered the store.

“Hey II.” You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face at the sight of him.

“(Y/N).” He greets you with a slight nod. His gaze traps you in place as his eyes meet yours, he saunters up to the counter, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“No Vessel today?” You ask, trying to keep your flustered state a secret.

“He had something to take care of today.” You could hear the gentle intonation of a smile in his voice. “Call me selfish but I wanted the chance to see you again.” You let out a flustered giggle. He leans his elbows on the counter, bringing his face impossibly close to yours. His eyes slowly scan over your features before catching your gaze. “He sent me with a list, think you could help me out?”

“Yeah, sure.” You stutter, making your way around the counter. He hands the list over to you, trailing behind you to hold everything you pulled from the shelves. You struggled to reach something on one of the higher shelves, a shiver ran up your spine at the sudden warmth that spread across your back as II stepped closer to you.

“Allow me.” He gazes down at you, bright blue eyes studying you for a moment. You feel his eyes on you the entire time as you scanned all of his groceries. You handed the bags over to him, his fingers brushing over yours. You smile bashfully as your eyes lock with his. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.” He gazes at you playfully.

“Yeah, hopefully.” He bows slightly as he heads for the door.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, II.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @herripinkle @themultiverseofmars @wingsofeternitysstuff @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @jumpcauseimfroggy (if I missed you or you'd like to be added to the Sleep Token tag list, please let me know!)

[turcott3]

angel

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: switches from third to second pov a few times, cursing, talks of fighting, talks of smut, crying, alcohol

loosely based on black mirror episode ‘arkangel’

(third person will be written in italics)

masterlist

-

2011

you found your way to the open pavement as the final school bell rang. the basketball court and black top was where everyone hung out that didn’t ride the bus, which was honestly a good chunk of people.

you found your way to your everyday meeting spot, and sat down on the large rock. the same rock where you met up with your sister everyday. you noticed the trouble maker kid outside as well.

his name was matthew. he was in the third grade, you in first.

you tend to watch him from afar, listening in on his conversations. something about him drew you in. you were so intrigued by his presence. recently, you’d discovered that he plays hockey, and now he was getting deeper into it

hockey this, hockey that. that’s all he talked about now.

all his friends were called over by their parents one by one and soon he was left alone, drawing his attention to you. he walks quickly over to you.

the two of you knew each other vaguely, you were at least on a first name basis given you’d been outside together many times before your sister graced you with her presence.

“so you play hockey?” you ask.

“yeah, how’d you know?” he asks, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“well i just heard you talking.” you replied.

“oh so you were snooping?” he retorts.

“well no i-“

“you wanna learn about it?” he offers and you nod.

“i think i should tell you about my favorite part.” he smirks.

he begins rambling on vaguely about the sport but focusing on his alleged favorite part.

fighting.

“and then he takes his fist and he-“

“matthew stop it!” your sister shouts, speed walking into frame.

“what?” he asks.

“stopping scaring my sister. you’re freaking her out with all your scary, violent stuff.”

“i haven’t even told her anything about it yet.” he spat his words out strongly at her.

“whatever. she’s 6, she doesn’t need to know about that stuff.” your sister says clenching your shoulder one last time.

“you can tell me another time.” you whisper to him, guarding your mouth from her view.

“i heard that y/n. and no, he won’t tell you another time. come on, mom is waiting.” she says tugging your sleeve. you couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on his frame as he directed his story elsewhere. silly, frantic punching motions coming from the boy.

-

2013

you sat alone on the ground as you watched all the kids run around at recess.

more specifically, matt playing football with his friends.

you sighed as you picked the small weed flowers, stuffing the pretty ones in your pocket for later. you hear yells from the group of boys playing football and look up, seeing matthew slow to a stop, his eyes on you.

“hey guys uh, ill be back in a few.” he shouts, jogging in your direction. you felt a lump in your throat as he approached.

“hey y/n.”

“hi.”

“what’s wrong? everything okay?” he asks, genuine concern lining his tone.

“yeah, my friend is sick today so, i don’t have anyone to play with.”

“i’m sorry, here,” he pauses sitting down next to you, “now you have someone.”

you smile at the gesture. as much of a bad, misbehaved kid he was, he was always so kind to you, and you never knew why.

“so you play football now?” you ask, looking at the flowers you picked.

“nah, just here. can’t play hockey at recess can i?” he asks leaning closer, nudging your shoulder.

“yeah i guess you’re right.” you giggle.

“well since my sisters in middle school now, you can finally tell me about hockey. i just don’t wanna stop your game over there.” you continue.

“they can play without me.” he simply replies.

“oh…. okay.”

“so you wanna hear about it now aye?” he teases.

“yeah.” you reply shyly. he goes on to tell you about the new rules he was learning, obviously building up to his favorite part.

the fighting. again.

“i’m a lot bigger than the other guys so, it’s easy for me to beat them up.” he says.

“really?”

“yeah, i think i’ve broken a few noses. you should look on youtube when you get home. just look up hockey fights. they’re awesome.” he tells you finally as your teacher called out for you to come back inside.

“thank you for sitting with me matthew.”

“yeah you’re welcome, oh, and you can call me matt by the way.” he replies as you nod and walk away from him. growing more and more curious about him by the day.

-

2017

you were a month into your seventh grade year, freshly 13 years old. matt had moved on up to highschool. it made you a little sad not seeing him in the halls during school but since you rode with your sister, who was now a junior, you saw him sitting outside once school got out.

you sighed as you walked past him at a distance. swarmed by girls he seemed mildly interested in.

“ooo shiny new hockey player. kiss my ass.” you mumble to yourself, keeping your head pointed to the ground as you walked to your sisters car. you heard matt’s voice in the distance telling the girls he’d catch them later.

“y/n, wait up.” he calls to you, jogging to catch up to you.

“hey matt.” you smile lightly, blushing at him ditching all those girls to see you.

“how’s big ol’ seventh grade going for ya?” he asks as you continue walking.

“oh it’s good. kinda boring. middle school is dumb.”

“yeah well, i miss seeing you in the halls. highschool better come quick. i’ll catch you later y/n, my moms here.” he nudges your arm as you wave bye to him.

“was that matt?” your sister asks as you approach the car.

“yeah it was.”

“what did he want?” she scoffs as you both shut your car doors.

“he’s not some evil, disgusting monster you know? we’re friends, kinda.” you reply.

“i just don’t want him to be a bad influence on you.”

“you don’t see me fighting people at school do you?”

“well no-“

“then there you go. he’s not.”

“okay y/n.” she replies, pulling out into the road and driving home.

you had no idea why she had formed this resentment for him. he hadn’t done anything to her, she just took what she heard of him and ran with it.

the rest of the drive home was quiet, she made you mad and you were done. defending matt against your sister wasn’t on the books today, but you were sure to get an earful from your mother later.

-

2018

you walked with your friend away from the buses and to the side entrance of the school, seeing matt leaned up against his brand new range rover, girls and his friends swarmed in a small group around him.

“look at that, matt’s sick new ride.”

“yeah.”

“let’s go see it.” she says grabbing your hand and dragging you in his direction.

“y/n.” he shouts, everyone’s attention directing to you.

“nice new wheels.” your friend says, staring into his soul, but him still having eyes on you.

“how you been, haven’t seen you around much this summer.” he asks you honestly.

“oh i’m good thanks matt. and yeah, nice car.” you blush.

“thanks. bells ringing soon. we should get going yeah?” he says leaning up off his car leaving his crew behind, slinging an arm over your shoulder as eyes hit you like daggers.

“can’t let you get lost on your first day.” he says and you giggle.

“matt.” you mumble and he stops outside your classroom, your friend waving as she turns off down another hall.

“what’s up?” he replies.

“everyone’s staring at me.” you say, escaping his grip.

“it’s just because of my new car, trust me, they don’t actually want me…. i think.” he doubts his words looking around.

“matt you know that’s not true.”

“okay whatever it doesn’t matter, i don’t give two shits about people. they stare, they stare. that doesn’t change me walking you to class.” he says.

“well you need to get to yours before you’re late.”

“yeah yeah i know, meet me after school today though, ill give you a ride home.” he he says as nudges your shoulder.

“okay, bye.” you wave as he walks off.

“meet me after school.” you whisper to yourself and scoff.

you sat with an old friend in class and she mentions the homecoming dance coming early. something you’d totally forgotten about.

“oh shit you’re right. i gotta start looking.” you giggle as the teacher begins the lecture.

hours later you found yourself walking to matt’s car, where he once again stood leaned against it. once you were close he climbed in, you shortly behind.

“why are you taking me home?”

“felt like being nice.”

“oh, okay.”

“so what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” you asked interrupting the silence.

“i just wanted to ask if you’d go to homecoming with me? i know it’s early so i figured i should get ahead.” he says turning his head to you, a blush spreading across your face.

-

“no way, no. you’re not going with him.” your mom says as you sat at the counter.

“mom, why not.” you groan.

“because, that kid is bad news y/n. i don’t trust him.”

“he’s not though, he’s perfectly fine.”

“and i don’t believe you. you can go with your friends, no means no.” she says, setting your plate down on the counter.

“whatever.” you reply, knowing you’re gonna have to text him the news within the next hour.

a short month later you found yourself all ready for the dance.

“you look beautiful.” your mom smiles as you walk down the stairs. you were meeting your friends for dinner, and still going to the dance with matt. behind her back of course, you didn’t want to tell him no.

you spent a while at the dance before you left with matt and a few friends for a bonfire by the lake, wrapped in matt’s blazer.

“can you pass me that?” he says lowly next to you as his friend tosses him a beer.

“matt, you drove.”

“i know, this is for you to drink.” he smiles.

“what?”

“come on y/n. you know you’re safe with me.” he says unscrewing the cap and handing it to you. you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him.

you’d never drank before and considering you were 15, you were a light weight. matt being 16 you expected the same but were surprised that he decided to only have one, which hardly gave him a buzz. next thing you knew you were sat in his lap on the log, hug him onto him. things around the fire had gotten awkward with all the couples making out.

“can we go sit in your car?” you whisper to him and he agrees, helping you off his lap and holding your hand all the way to the car, knowing uneven ground and heels were a recipe for disaster.

“i brought some stuff in case of something like this.” he says opening the back doors and revealing a few blankets and pillows. you looked up at him with a hazy smile as he tossed them in the trunk and pushed the seats down, the two of you climbing in and setting up camp.

you shed the blazer, tossing it in the front seat as you laid in a comfortable silence, the two front windows cracked for airflow.

“so.” matt says, leaning up on an elbow.

“so?”

“how’s the night been?”

“oh it’s been good.” you reply, turning your head to him and smiling to see his eyes locked on your lips, you quickly turning away.

“don’t get all shy on me y/n.” he giggles, pulling you closer to him.

“sorry, you just look really good right now.” you reply.

“and you look even better.” he mumbles before attaching your lips.

the night continued in full physical contact. he learned every curve and crevice of her body carefully, paying attention to every detail. making note of what she liked and disliked. teaching her the right ways to everything. his hands held her carefully as he worshipped her under his breath, quiet whimpers and curses leaving her lips every few moments, before it all came crashing down after a long few minutes.

“you know, you didn’t have to say those things.” he giggles to you.

“well those are things i learned while i’m watching porn on my phone at night, i- i didn’t know what to do. was it bad? i’m sorry.”

“no no, my love, you were amazing. you were perfect.” he says cupping your jaw and dipping down to kiss you one more time. moments later, they’re interrupted by loud bangs on the window.

“you’re so fucking busted. it’s almost two in the morning y/n. i had to come track you down.” you hear your sisters stern voice outside the car window.

“fuck oh my god, what the hell.” you scramble, making sure your dress was on straight.

“it’s not what it looks like.” you express leaping out of the car.

“yes the fuck it is.”

“please don’t tell mom. please i’m begging you.”

“no, i’m telling her you were with him after she explicitly told you not to.”

“hey that’s no-“ he starts and is quickly cut off.

“and you kissed him, and god knows what else. god just get in the car.” she sighs, pointing to her car up the hill.

“matt im sorry, i really am.” you sigh and he nods.

“it’s okay, i didn’t know they felt this way about me.”

“you don’t exactly have good rep, rempe.” you sister spits, shoving you along. immediately you text him apologizing profusely.

your sister knew he just took your virginity. it was no mystery, the windows were fogged and dripping, your hair came undone, his buttons were crooked. she swore not to tell all the details, but in no way were you ever gonna be able to go near him again. except for in the hallways at school.

“you know he’s trouble y/n. you let him get in your pants?”

“yeah i did, and he’s not as much trouble as you think he is. he’s very nice to me.”

“it doesn’t matter. you’re not seeing him again, you hear me?” she says sternly and you sigh, resting your head against the window.

“yeah.” you reply, a tear falling down your cheek as he texted back, repeating that everything was fine.

-

“what were you thinking young lady.” your mom startles you awake.

“what?”

“you were kissing matthew in his car at the bonfire? really?” she says standing at the foot of your bed with her arms crossed.

“i’m sorry.” you sigh, tears threatening to spill again.

“what did i tell you about being around him?”

“i know mom i’m sorry, i really like him okay? he’s not how you think he is.” you reply wiping the tears that started to fall.

“yeah well, i really just don’t believe you. he’s not a good influence y/n. it’s just a warning this time, you will not see him again.” she finishes and you nod.

“you know i love you.” she says walking toward your door.

“i know, even if that’s a tough thing to believe.” you reply and she chuckles exiting you room.

and that you didn’t. you didn’t hang out outside of the school halls. all you did was text. every. single. day.

-

2022

matt knocked on the door and anxiously rocked back and forth on his heels. he knew that her sister and her mom weren’t his biggest fans. hell, you could say they hate his guts, but he knew he had to make it right.

“we don- matt? what do you want?” her mom sighs opening the door.

“i’m taking your daughter to prom.” he says firmly, a light smile on his face.

“she has a boyfriend?” her sister interjects walking up to the door.

he sighs as he looks down at the flowers.

“listen, i know you guys aren’t my biggest fans,” he starts.

“yeah, you could say that.” her sister mumbles.

“but i know this isn’t my news to air but, he broke up with her this morning. we’ve been friends for years, texting for years, whatever. she was so excited for this dance and i- i really fucking, sorry, i really care about her. i really want her to have a good night, i’d do anything to make sure she’s happy and i’d do anything to make things right with you guys.” he states heartfully.

“well.” her mom sighs, her heart seemingly growing larger for the boy that stood in front of her with a large, fresh bouquet of flowers and a nice ironed tux.

“and she doesn’t know, i wanted to surprise her, if that’s okay?”

“yeah it is. thank you matthew. we had no idea, we only saw her this morning.”

“yeah that’s about when it happened.” he replies scratching the back of his head as her mom shuts the door behind her.

“her rooms up there on the right.” she smiles lightly.

“thank you mrs. y/l/n. i really do appreciate it.” he replies making his way up the stairs, knocking lightly on the door.

“are you ready?” he says through the door.

“what?” you call back.

“can i come in?” he asks, you not recognizing the voice. you sat at your vanity with curlers in your hair and your makeup half done. you couldn’t stop crying.

“yes?”

“hey.” you see matt’s face peek through the door before stepping in, fully dressed in a tux, with a large, lush bouquet and a sweet smile.

“matt?” you say, putting down your brush, immediately standing up from your chair and walking over to him.

“i got these for you, i tried my best to match your dress.” he says looking over at the dress that hung from your closet door.

“matt.” you frown sweetly. for the first time since your freshman year, you hugged onto him, tightly. you feel him freeze for a moment before tossing the flowers onto your bed and wrapping his arms around you, picking you briefly up off the ground.

“thank you for this.” you say sweetly as you pull away, his hands still placed on your waist.

“you know i’ll always come around. anything for you.”

“really?”

“yeah, really.” he smiles, pressing a short peck to the top of your head.

“hey, we got reservations in an hour, chop chop pretty girl.” he giggles into your hair.

“i’ll be done, just give me like 30 minutes.” you reply, picking up the flowers and inspecting them.

“of course, no rush. it’s close by. i’ll be downstairs okay?”

“okay.” you smile lightly as he exits your room, your heart pounding in your chest as you got ready quickly. you zipped up your dress and grabbed the flowers, looking in the mirror at the perfect match he’d picked. you sighed in relief knowing the boy you’d been longing since you were a little girl surprised you and is waiting downstairs for you.

you breathe out as you open the door and turn the corner, walking down the stairs where matt and your mom were waiting, his eyes following you every step down.

“you look beautiful honey.” your mom sighs, looking at the gorgeous dress you’d picked out a few months ago.

“absolutely stunning.” matt says, eyes still locked on you.

“thank you guys.” you blush.

“let me get a picture of you two, uh, y/n stand on the second step, i want the full dress in without having to cut this giant’s head off.” she laughs stepping back with her camera and snapping a few photos.

“thank you for doing this for her matthew, i really appreciate it.”

“of course, anytime truly. your daughter is incredible.” he smiles at your mom, her eyes growing into hearts in an instant.

“you two have fun and be safe please.” she says, opening the front door for the two of you.

sis: use a condom, left some in your wallet ;)

you read the text aloud to matt when you got in the car, laughing at your sisters sudden approval.

“she gave you some? hell i already have some.” he laughs, backing out of your driveway.

“you know to this day, you’re the first of only three bodies that i have.”

“was i the best?”

“well i guess yeah?”

“what do you mean you guess?”

“i mean you were really the only one that paid any attention to my needs.”

“well of course, that’s extremely important to me.”

“then not i guess, you definitely were the best.”

“not were, are.” he winks, intertwining his fingers with yours in your lap.

the night was incredible. after the dance, your mom let matt come and stay over at your house, and you couldn’t believe it. he’d truly won your family over. you spent the whole night laid up in bed, kissing and touching and loving on each other for the first time since you were fifteen. everything felt the same, yet different. a mature kind of passion injected into the kisses you shared and the touches he laid on you. you would never trade his intimacy for the world. when you were with him, it’s like the world stopped spinning, and you were the last two people alive. he made your heart jump in the blink of an eye. you wanted him all along, even against your mothers wishes, and that’s something you’d never change.

“can i ask you something?” matt says as you laid contently on his bare chest.

“yes.” you reply leaning up to lock eyes with him.

“listen i know this is really really fast after this morning, and you can say no and i will understand either way but um, would you be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously and you giggle, locking your lips on his.

“yes, a million times.” you smile, speaking on his lips, reconnecting them after your brief words.

“you have no clue how long i’ve been trying to get to this point. it was hard with your mom and sister hating my guts. and you just got broken up with this morning.” he giggles.

“yeah well, i was gonna start hanging out with you again behind their backs if they didn’t start liking you. and, i’ve been wanting to be with you for years matt, nothing is too quick when it comes to you. nothing.”

-

2024

“matt.” you call out from the couch, adjusting your position trying to get comfy.

“yes my love.” he says running and sliding across the wood floor of his apartment.

“can you PLEASE get the pizza off the counter and bring it over here.” you beg.

“of course, you wanna watch a movie or something? maybe not do a whole lot of watching.” he says with a smug look on his face as he rounds the end of the couch, placing the box on the coffee table.

“how about we finish this box first and then we can talk….. or not talk.” you reply teasingly.

“i love you so much.” he smirks.

“i love you, matt.” you reply with a scrunched nose, pressing a short kiss to his lips as he got settled on the couch next to you.

over the course of the last 2 years, you’d grown inseparable, falling in love in a matter of weeks. he was there for everything. graduation and all. you hadn’t left his side since the night of your senior prom, and you fully planned on starting a life with him. which unbeknownst to him, this life you’d talked about had already begun.

“hey so, i actually had some news.” you start, finishing your slice.

“go on?” he mutters, shutting the box.

“well, fuck i wanted to make this like a big deal but i’m telling you before we fuck.” you sigh, realizing you should wait.

“no no, what is it, it’s okay baby.” he perks up, taking your hand in his.

“matt im pregnant.” you spit out, gritting your teeth waiting for a response.

“are you for real?” he says, his eyes widening, a quick nod following as a response. a huge smile grows on his cheeks as he practically jumps on you, squeezing you so tight you can hardly breathe.

“you’re carrying our baby. like our baby. wow. i can’t believe it. oh my god, i’m so lucky, i’m so excited wow. i love you so much y/n, you’re gonna be the best mom. i’ll make sure you have everything you need and so much more.” he says, his hands placed on your cheeks.

“thank you handsome, i’m glad you reacted well to that, i was nervous. thank you, i love you.” you reply hugging him back.

you were anxious to start this life with him, but you knew from the start all those years ago that you were taken care of.

ever since the day he approached you on the playground in third grade you knew he was never gonna leave you. never in a million years.

-