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honeyedwordsandblades · 2 years ago

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Oh, who would have guessed? Needing to make a separate post all of my own because thirty tags is never enough for all that I have to say, for all that I have to, that I must type out? Me? Nooooo... lmao.

Anyway, here's my tags (and more of course there's always more) that were originally gonna be on silverformymonsters' gifset post of Astarion post-BG3 events sadly reaching his hand into sunlight, about a little imagined moment between him and my tav, Rose, now reformatted into a text post for all of yours' heartbreak and enjoyment.

I know this is a scene after everything. But I like to imagine it's a scene with not just him but also Rose. Not immediately after BG3 events. Not immediately after losing his ability to be in the sun. A bit of time after all that. Some personal quest of their's they're undertaking. Maybe to help him be in the sun again? Maybe something else, like for the 7000 vampire spawn in the Underdark? Maybe to find out more about his past, when he was alive? Of who he was, who family was etc.

Regardless, it's them underground in a cave. Rose is busy with something else. She's talking to Astarion while doing whatever she's doing. And mid-talking she finishes and turns around to see this. To see Astarion back turned to her, facing the sunlight peaking through from above. She stops talking immediately and just watches.

Watches as he reaches his hand out into the sunlight. Watches as he holds his hand out for as long as he can before it clearly hurts too much. Watches as his hand nearly fully turns to a gray ashy stone color, all too ready to crumble and drift away from a slight breeze. Watches as it shakes until he can't anymore, until he suddenly pulls his hand back. His hand immediately changes back to its normal color and appearance once as he does so but the moment is heartbrokenly seared into Rose's mind.

He half turns back to her. Eyes still on his hand. Mind surely still sadly reminiscing about when he very well could be in the sun. After a moment he looks up at her. Eyes staring back in… question, she takes it. As if to wonder why (and when) she stopped talking.

Although, he quickly realizes why. He frustratedly sighs and looks away for a moment (back to the sunlight) before turning back to her. Tells her about how 200 years in shadow he became all but used to the fact he would never see the sun again. Never feel its warmth on his skin. And then he had (a month? a few months? how long is bg3 supposed to take place? lmao) of it. It makes it all the more terrible to go back.

He knows they're looking for a way for him to be in the sun again. He knows that she'll search until her last breath and even then some. And, of course, he greatly appreciates it. She always has given him nothing but marvelous gift after gift. She is a marvelous gift. One that he will always cherish and be grateful for.

…But that doesn't mean he doesn't miss it. Miss the warm embrace of the sun. Miss being out during the day in the sun. ('You can forget just how much colour there is in the world.' She remembers well that odd out of the blue moment while they were in the city. It killed her then as does hearing him speak now about it breaks her heart completely.)

This is the price of his freedom though. Of their happy little life that they have now. He supposes it was well worth it. Even if he does miss the sun terribly. He tries to move the conversation back to why they're here in the first place but Rose refuses to let go of it.

She's immediately got her hands on his face, mouth on his (surprising him - what else is new lmao), fiercely kissing him with all the passion and heartbreak in the world, in the universe. And then wraps her arms tightly around him in a tight hug full of all her heartbreak and love for him.

She knows she's already done so before, but she pledges once again to him that they will find a way for him to see, to be in the sun again. She promises. She swears it.

Every time she's like this- With this fierce determination. This passionate loyalty (especially with him). It always somehow manages to surprise him. Even after all this time.

After a chuckle, he jokes about how she better (keep her word), he does terribly miss their little trysts, seeing her cheeks flush under the sunlight as he-

Okay! Okay. Oooh-kay. That's- That's enough. She immediately lets go of him and she's now changed the subject back to their job at hand.

As much as he doesn't wish to let go of the moment himself either, he still does. He knows she means it. She always has. And always will. And one day... He can't wait to see the sun again, to feel its warmth again, yes. But he can't wait to to see it, be under its rays once again with her. One day they- she will figure this out and he'll get see her beam just as bright as the sun above them. And he cannot wait to see it.

#astarion #tav!rose #man its so good to write all this #to write all the little novels (novellas?) and little essays in the tags of all these posts #i miss creative writing. i miss writing. so much.#and i'll get astarion's voice pinned eventually #i know it's not as difficult as it seems. i know that i (with all the hubris in the world in the universe) can do it. can channel him.#it's just gonna take a little bit of time. mostly just me getting over- well me. and my stuff that im going through. i just need to get out #my head (and into his). that's all.#anyway if you've read all this: omg thank you! thank you for taking the time to read it #this is just me lost in a daydream with our beloved vampiric elf #so i appreciate anyone who takes the time to read any of my little stupid reveries. much appreciated darlings ;) <3

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beedoes-stuff · 2 years ago

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status update: i just realized one of my posts got liked by reverie audios and i am very happy with life at the moment 🫶🫶🫶

#reverie audios #good sir if u see this #j wanna let u know #i’m obsessed with cyril #he is actually my babygirl #ur channel is so chefs kiss

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hyruling · 17 days ago

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I've been scrolling down your blog all morning going through your drabbles and fics on my day off like you're the news channel, so if you are still accepting prompt and feel inspired by it, I'd like to submit n.21 🌞 btw your writing is incredible!!!!!

21. kissing the other’s brow & 38. stroking their leg

—

It’s late when they get home, their shift having run over by two hours thanks to a high rise fire that took the efforts of three additional houses to get under control. Buck and Eddie had scaled at least fourteen flights of stairs alone, then back down and up again when they found a few stragglers along the way, and Buck doesn’t remember ever being so tired in his life.

He shuffles into the house behind Eddie, trying to hide the way he’s limping. It’s probably no use — Eddie is too astute, and he’s sure he saw the way Buck had to grit his teeth when he took off his boots back at the station. But if he can just get into the bathtub and then into bed he’ll be fine. They have plans to take Chris and his friends to the beach tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to give Eddie any reason to think they should cancel.

Buck goes into the kitchen first to grab a bottle of water while Eddie checks in on Chris, who’s already asleep by the sounds of it. When Buck emerges, Eddie is down the hall and closing the door of the bathroom behind him. Damn.

It’s his night on the couch. He should make up his bed, but his leg is screaming and it’s all he can do to ease himself onto it without yelping in pain. He reclines and elevates it over the back of the couch with a private little wince and closes his eyes.

The next thing he’s aware of is Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him awake.

“Can you stand?” Eddie asks him.

Buck blinks, eyes bleary from the few minutes of sleep he must’ve nabbed. “I—yeah, sure.”

He moves too quickly, and there’s no way Eddie misses the way his face contorts in pain from it. He’s right there, helping Buck stand, and easily supports his weight when his leg threatens to give out.

“Sorry,” Buck hisses in his ear, gripping his shoulder for balance. “I’ll be okay in a sec.”

Eddie just tightens his hold on Buck’s waist. “Take your time bud.”

Buck stretches until he thinks he can reasonably put weight on it again, and when he nods Eddie helps him down the hall. So much for hiding it.

“Promise I’m still good for tomorrow,” Buck gets out through a clenched jaw.

“Don’t worry about that. C’mon.”

They pass the bedroom, and when Buck makes an inquisitive little noise Eddie just keeps walking him towards the bathroom.

The bath is full of warm water when they step in. Stream curls from the top of the water, slightly cloudy and heavenly looking.

“I put in some of those CBD bath salts,” Eddie tells him, releasing him at last to dig a clean towel out of the closet. “And I think there’s still some of the cream left we can put on after. Do you need one of your pills, or did you take one?”

Buck doesn’t answer for a minute, choking back the sudden lump in his throat. Eddie’s exhausted too — he climbed the same amount of stairs, carried the same amount of people as Buck. He can see in the droop shoulders and his half-lidded eyes that he’s tired, and he still took the time to do this for him. No one’s ever known him this way, cared for him the way Eddie does, save for Maddie, and it overwhelms him at times like this.

“Buck?”

Eddie’s voice breaks him out of his little reverie. He blinks a few times, croaks, “Y-yeah?”

“Do you need your medicine?”

Buck swallows and nods. “Uh, yeah. Probably should. They’re in my bag.”

Eddie nods. “Go ahead and get in, I’ll bring it to you.”

Buck undresses when he leaves, and gingerly lowers himself into the water. It’s perfect, and he immediately feels his muscles relax, his leg practically singing in relief.

Eddie comes back in a minute later and crouches to set Buck’s medicine and bottle of water on the edge of the tub. Buck’s not the least bit self conscious — Eddie’s seen him naked before, more than once, and it’s not like he can really see anything with the way Buck has his leg crooked. But he wouldn’t care if he could, and that feels significant in a way he doesn’t have the energy to examine.

“Need anything else?” Eddie asks.

Buck shakes his head. “No, this is perfect. Thank you Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, and leans forward to press a soft kiss to Buck’s brow as he straightens. “Soak for at least thirty minutes. Holler if you need me.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Buck staring after him like a fish out of water.

Any chance of relaxation goes out the window. He tells himself it’s no big deal; it was probably just one of Eddie’s dad reflexes. He’s seen him do the same thing when giving Chris medicine countless times. It doesn’t mean anything, it can’t, and yet Buck feels the ghost of his lips between his eyes like a sting.

He swallows the pill and soaks until the water goes cold, and his leg is somewhat better after — he can at least put weight on it when he stands. His mind buzzes while he finishes his nightly routine, and it’s almost enough to drown out the constant diatribe of Eddie kissed me Eddie kissed me Eddie kissed me racketing around his skull.

Almost.

Eddie is on the couch when he comes out, scrolling idly on his phone. He scoots over so Buck can sit next to him and pats his lap.

“Let me see.”

“It’s okay,” Buck says as he lowers himself down. “The bath helped.”

“And yet you’re still limping. C’mon, up.”

Buck sighs and swings his leg up, foot resting on Eddie’s thigh. Eddie pushes his sweats up to his knee and brushes his hand over Buck’s calf, just feeling, and Buck tries not to shiver. He knows he’s feeling for excess warmth, for evidence of a clot, and nods to himself when Buck apparently passes the test.

“Think you can handle a massage?” he asks.

Buck swallows hard. “Yeah, think so.”

Eddie nods again and reaches over to grab the bottle of CBD cream on the coffee table. He puts a generous amount in his palm and rubs his hands together, then starts massaging it gently into Buck’s calf.

It’s not the first time he’s done this for Buck, but it’s the first time since Eddie’s touch became something of a livewire; since every brush of arms at work or friendly shoulder clap made him ache for more, since he developed a somewhat unhealthy obsession with Eddie’s hands. And with the memory of Eddie’s lips on his skin still fresh, it’s all he can do not to moan as those capable hands knead at his sore leg.

“Relax,” Eddie says quietly. “You’re tense as hell bud, that’s not gonna help.”

“Sorry,” Buck says, a little more breathless than he intends.

“Lean back,” Eddie instructs, and Buck complies. He relaxes against one of the throw pillows, and Eddie pulls his leg even closer. “Close your eyes, if you want.”

He does, if only so he doesn’t have to watch Eddie be so competent and gorgeous in the soft lamplight. Slowly, he does relax, Eddie’s ministrations finally taking effect. Buck’s all but a puddle of mush on the couch by the time his leg starts to feel more normal, and Eddie’s kneading turns into gentle stroking motions up and down his shin.

“Better?”

Buck sighs and nods. “Much. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Eddie says with a small squeeze of his calf.

Eddie doesn’t stop touching him. He keeps up the soft caress of Buck’s shin until he’s half asleep, until the vulnerable knife’s edge of consciousness turn his thoughts fuzzy and precarious. He thinks, I love you, and you should know.

Instead, what he says is, “Did you mean to kiss me?”

Eddie’s hand stops, and Buck chances opening his eyes. Eddie’s are on him, dark in the low light, and Buck can’t pin down his expression. It’s not horror, or regret, or any of the things he convinced himself of in the bath, so that’s something. In fact, his lips curl into a closed-mouth smile aimed at his lap.

“I did kiss you, didn’t I?”

Buck laughs, a little self deprecating. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, and glances down at his hand on Buck’s leg. He rubs a little circle into Buck’s shin with his thumb, still smiling softly. “Not exactly how I meant to do it.”

Buck’s heart tha-thums in his chest. “Meant to?”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink, eyes flicking up to meet his, and Buck kind of thinks he might die.

“Well, I’d hoped it’d be more romantic than while you were naked and in pain in the bathtub.”

All the blood in his body rushes to his head like he’s on a rollercoaster, world suddenly flipped on its head. He sits up, jostling Eddie’s hand on his leg, but he just trails it down to hold Buck’s ankle instead. There’s still a faint blush on Eddie’s cheeks but he’s smiling expectantly, waiting for whatever response Buck has to that.

He’s coming up empty so far. The seconds stretch on in silence, until Eddie starts to look a little unsure.

“Buck?”

“You could try it now,” Buck says in a rush, hoping for once that first thought best thought is the right move. “If—I mean, this feels pretty—pretty romantic. To me.”

“Oh does it?” Eddie teases, and scoots closer, pulling Buck’s leg fully over his knees until his thigh rests on Eddie’s lap. Eddie puts a warm hand on his knee and squeezes.

“Mhm, definitely,” Buck agrees, nodding like a bobble head. “Most romantic moment of my life. By a lot.”

Eddie laughs, and cups Buck’s face with his free hand. The leftover cream on his hands makes Buck’s cheek tingle, and he waits, hardly daring to breathe while Eddie’s eyes track over his face. And then Eddie leans in and brushes his lips between his eyebrows.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

Eddie moves to his birthmark, pressing gentle kisses to the pink skin above his brow and on his eyelid. He kisses Buck’s cheeks and nose and then, just when Buck thinks his heart might actually give out, his waiting mouth.

It’s brief, and sweet, and the best kiss of his life. Eddie pulls back too soon and Buck tries to follow, but Eddie kisses his forehead again instead and leans back.

“That was more how I pictured it.”

And that’s a revelation in itself, one that he’s going to need a few weeks to process. Before he can stutter out a response, Eddie gently sets Buck’s leg on the floor and stands, offering his hand.

“C’mon. You’re not sleeping out here on that leg.”

Buck takes his hand, and Eddie pulls him to his feet. His leg barely even protests, but he sways closer to Eddie all the same.

“Eddie, I—you should know, I—”

Eddie silences him with another kiss. “Tell me tomorrow, sweetheart. We’ve got time.”

—

#my fic #buddie fic #drabbles #911 abc #posting fic on the clock again queen?#anyway this is basically sickfic bucks version. if u think about it #and roommates era bc i said so #buddie can have a pride and prejudice 2005 moment as a treat #and thank you soooo much for your super sweet message angel 🥺 hope you like this!!#heartshaped-lou #i have like. half of another prompt done too but the tone is all over so i gotta work on that. prob later this week #and then i’m locking in on my hiatus fic

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cherrygirlfriend · 14 days ago

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DANCING IN THE RAIN 🌧️

🌧️ pairing: husband!spencer x lovely wife!reader

🌧️ summary: lazy rainy days with spencer, reader & penny.

🌧️ warnings / tags: fluff, cozy vibes! WC: 1.3k

🌧️ author's note: i woke up this morning to the sound of rain and as someone who loves rainy days... i couldn't help but write how my favorite fic family would spend their rainy days <3

SPENCER REID MASTERLIST 🌧️

when your eyes fluttered open, you could hear the distinct sound of waterdrops hitting the roof of your home, unable to stop thinking of how wet and cold the world outside the walls must be compared to how warm and comfortable you felt in that moment; your lover's arm around you, being tucked into spencer's warm chest, feeling his soft breaths on the back of your neck... you smiled, unable to help yourself from leaning further into his touch.

but when it came time to leave the reverie that existed in your shared bed, you sat up and looked back at the curly-haired man, his face calm, a sight that was so unusual to see when your husband was sleeping. you pushed back some of his hair and pressed a kiss onto his hairline, before slipping a pair of slippers into your feet and padding into the kitchen.

as the coffee maker gurgled and ground in the other room, you sat on the couch with a book in your hand, a small figure appeared in the doorway, penny rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with a hand that still held onto her favorite stuffed bunny. you smiled softly, patting the spot next to you on the couch, the girl sleepily walking there. "toons..." penny mumbled quietly, making you chuckle softly. you pressed a kiss on the top of her head, before turning on the television and putting on the channel you knew showed children's cartoons.

by the time another figure appeared in the doorway, you had a cup of coffee in your hand and penny had a plate with a few crustless turkey-and-cheese sandwiches along with apple slices you'd cut up and peeled for her (just like her father, she had a deep dislike for crusts and peels in food). and after disappearing into the kitchen for a moment, spencer came into the living room, sitting down on penny's other side, now with his TARDIS-mug in hand.

"we're watching octonauts again?" he asked, looking to your daughter who simply nodded and bit into another apple slice. even though spencer was a self-proclaimed technophobe, there was one thing about technology that he did like, and that was watching cartoons with your daughter (his favorite being ask the storybots). you smiled as you looked to spencer, stretching your arm over the back of the couch so you could card your fingers through his hair, a pleased hum leaving his lips.

a few hours later, the rain had died down a bit, your fingers intertwined with spencer's as you watched penny skip, jumping over small puddles of water in her pink, strawberry-patterned rain boots, giggling each time it splashed around. "penny, be careful!" spencer called out, only for the little girl to continue splashing around in glee, ignoring her father's warnings. instead of backing up your husband, you decided to play devil's advocate.

you let go of your husband's hand and rushed to another puddle, penny's face lighting up when you jumped and splashed the water around, spencer watching in feigned exasperation.

once you got to the playground, penny made a beeline to the swingset, eagerly climbing onto one of the swings, "mama, push!" she shouted, making you laugh as her short legs tried to pick up speed on their own. you let go of spencer's hand, smiling back at him before making your way to your daughter, "you wanna be a little speedster, do you?"

later on in the evening, the scent of apple pie drifted through your home after you and penny had spent the past few hours baking while spencer was working on dinner, the three of you sitting at the dining table with bowls of soup and self-made buns in front of each of you. you and spencer had cups of tea, while penny had a mug of tea that was more milk and honey than any of the actual tea.

"this is sooo good!" penny slurps some of her soup and smiles up at her father, "you're a good cook, daddy." "what, is my cooking not good enough?" you asked her with feigned offense. she gave you a toothy, teasing grin, "daddy's soup is better."

"i cook for you all day and you say your father soup is better than mine?" you gasp dramatically, making penny giggle, "sorry!" your daughter takes a bite out of the bun, "but our baking is better than his cooking!" she says, mouth full. "penny, don't speak with your mouth full." spencer chimed in, ruffling the girl's curls, a small pout forming on her face.

once dinner was done with, you sat on the couch with a book in your hand, although you couldn't really bring yourself to care about the book, not when your husband teaching your daughter was such an adorable view.

you should've expected for penny to end up being a smart child when you found out you were pregnant, but what you hadn't expected for spencer to be teaching her things like korean or advanced science when she was in kindergarten.

if penny would've ever expressed to you that she was having difficulties with learning some of the things spencer wanted to teach her, you would've asked him to ease up on her, and you knew he would've; he never wanted to pressure penny to be or do anything she didn't want to. but penny had the same glimmer in her eyes that your husband got whenever he learned something new. in a few years she'd probably know more about the world than you did.

"she had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the march hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. it was so large a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had nibbled some more of the left-hand bit of mushroom, and raised herself to about two feet high, even then she walked up towards it rather timidly, saying to herself, “ suppose it should be raving mad after all! i almost wish i'd gone to see the hatter instead!"

as penny laid in bed, you closed the storybook and set it aside, your daughter already starting to let out soft snores. you let out a breath of a chuckle, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. "goodnight, penny in wonderland." you murmured against her soft skin, before pulling away.

you made your way to the bedroom you and spencer shared, your husband already flipping through the pages of a book at record time. you chuckled softly as you lifted up the covers and slid into bed next to him, still hearing the soft patter of rain against the roof. you smiled softly, grabbing the book from spencer's hands and closing it, placing it onto your nightstand.

spencer gave you a feigned pout, along with a 'hey!' you chuckled softly, shutting spencer up by bringing your lips to his, the man getting lost in the kiss, until you finally pulled away, "you know," you begun, tugging a loose, brown curl behind his ear, "i wanna spend every day with you. no matter what weather. but especially rainy days like this."

"how come?"

"because i love rainy days." you brought your hand to the hem of his shirt, sliding it up his bare, warm chest, "and i love you even more."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid reader #spencer reid au #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x #spencer reid fic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid ff #spencer reid x your name #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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plasmaspade · 7 months ago

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ENA the Worker if she were in Reverie Channel.

(Another fun side project, just like the previous one)

#Reverie Channel #ena #joel g #style swap #fanart #pixel art #ena dream bbq

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r2d2lover · 8 months ago

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Healing Touch

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader (QuidditchPlayer!Mattheo x Healer!Reader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, vaginal sex, F/M, fingering, aged-up characters, semi-public sex, Hogwarts Uni AU

Summary:

You give an alternative form of medicine after an injury lands star Quidditch player, Mattheo Riddle, in your care.

Friday nights always brought a familiar routine - milling around the bustling infirmary, secretly hoping for some excitement to break up the monotony. You couldn't help but feel a small twinge of guilt at your thoughts, wishing for someone to get injured during the intense Quidditch game and be sent to you for patching up. But most of the time, it was just a steady stream of students in need of minor first aid and basic pain relief potions after the games. And yet, despite the lack of excitement, you found comfort in these quiet evenings spent with Madam Pomfrey, the kind-hearted matron who ran the infirmary. Your friends may have called it "sad," but you found solace in her company and often lost track of time as you engaged in riveting conversations with her. You were no stranger to the infirmary; you had been under her watchful advisory since secondary school and working your way to a full time job at St. Mungo’s upon your graduation. It was almost therapeutic, in a way, to escape from the chaos of game day and simply unwind with such a wise and motherly figure.

Tonight, however, was different. It started off normal enough, with the most exciting prospect being refusing a stash of Mallowsweet leaves from kids looking to smoke the dried herb. That incident caused Madam Pomfrey to ask you to catalogue the stores, which you did happily while humming to yourself. Right before you could start, the infirmary doors busted open with a bang, startling you from your reverie. A group of students clad in green fangear from hats to painted faces rushed in, supporting a limp figure between them. Your heart raced as you recognized the unconscious form of Mattheo Riddle, his Quidditch robes torn and muddy.

"Bludger to the head," someone shouted as Madam Pomfrey hurried over. You sprang into action from your position, grabbing potions and bandages as the matron directed. For once, your presence wasn't just busywork; you were needed.

Mattheo was carried in on a magic stretcher, curled up in pain and still spilling curses from his bruised lips. If it had been earlier in your youth, you would’ve assumed the Slytherin boy got into some fight. In your apprenticeship years in secondary school, you patched up your fair share of Mattheo Riddle confrontations of both parties. At some point, Mattheo turned himself around by channeling his anger into Quidditch and even ended up scoring a scholarship to the same uni as you. He was still a regular customer of yours, especially since he started setting his sights on playing professionally. And if you were honest with yourself, you liked the conversations you had with him while you held his hand and set a broken appendage with Skelegro or stitched him up after a nasty fall. Though your relationship was transactionally based, you found yourself referring to him as your friend. Mattheo was a natural charmer as well, and you had your fair share of flustered moments on an off-handed comment of his. Even if you preferred the company of Madam Pomfrey on Friday nights, you definitely favored a more flirtatious company.

You unloaded the star Quidditch player onto a hospital bed at the end of the hall for maximum privacy. You dismissed his friends with thanks and told them that they needed to leave if they wanted to see Mattheo get better. As you drew the curtains around Mattheo's bed, you caught a glimpse of his pained expression. Your heart clenched at the sight. Madam Pomfrey bustled over with her wand at the ready, muttering diagnostic spells under her breath.

"Mild concussion, broken arm, and a nasty laceration on his thigh. Nothing we can't handle, but it'll take some time. Fetch the Blood-Replenishing Potion and prepare a Calming Draught. I am going to the pitch to see if there are anymore injuries," Madam Pomfrey announced grimly. You nodded, hurrying to the potions cabinet. As you gathered the necessary vials, you heard Mattheo groan.

"Wha... happened?" Mattheo slurred, trying to sit up. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. You shushed him and held up the Calming Draught to his lips, coaxing the liquid into his mouth gently. You raked your fingers through his body to check for any more injuries, silently biting back your breath as you felt how hardened his muscles were. That’s wildly inappropriate, you scolded yourself. You mixed the Calming Draught with the ill-tasting Skelegro, hoping it would disguise the taste enough for him to stomach it. Mattheo was still hazy when you wrapped his arm in a sling and he found comfort in squeezing your arm to ease the pain. Normally, you would never let the identity of your patient cloud your level of care, but Mattheo was just different.

“You took a nasty fall during the game tonight. Hey, I… I’m going to have to remove your pants to get to that cut on your thigh,” You say shakily while slowly and gently peeling back the blood soaked bandage. The medic on the pitch did a haphazard job, which only brought him more pain. Mattheo let out a silent hiss through gritted teeth before he nodded. He tried to use his free hand to help you unlace the front of his uniform, but you waved him aside. With a slung arm, you had no option but to take pity on him. You undid his pants quickly while keeping an eye on his face to gauge his pain. For a man with a broken arm and a deep laceration on his upper thigh, he seemed to be more focused on you undoing his pants. He watched you in a labored mixture of panting and groaning, but he eventually conceded to the pain and threw his head back with his eyes squeezed shut. You held up a drink spiked with Wiggenweld to his lips to distract him from the pain in his leg, but really you were trying to distract yourself from the sinful sight in front of you.

“Bloody hell… Do you think they’ll let me play in the game next week?” Mattheo sipped on the pain relieving potion greedily. You watched him with matched greediness as he licked droplets of the potion off his lips and threw his head back. For your own sanity, you patted the corners of his mouth with a rag. Mattheo wrapped his hand around your arm in what you guessed to be an attempt to steady himself, especially as you turned your focus back to his bloodied pants.

“I’m not sure, but if you let go of my arm, I can try to make sure that you do,” You teased gently, flexing your arm to signal him. Mattheo opened his eyes in embarrassment and released his iron-clad grip on your bicep. Normally, you wouldn’t have noticed, but his hand was so large that it completely wrapped around your arm and choked your blood supply. He apologized sheepishly, then delved his front teeth into his bottom lip while you finally pulled off his pants. “Tell me if it hurts any more, I can give you more Wiggenweld.”

“The pain’s not so bad… it’s more of a mental thing, I think,” Mattheo watched carefully as you started to clean the scape on his thigh. It was a nasty mark, but he seemed proud of it and didn’t regret the scar it would form if it meant securing the championship. You slowly massaged a salve into his skin, which made him shiver and jump.

“Mental?” You questioned without looking up. His words tightened a knot in your stomach but you persisted. Your hands dipped back into the pot of salve to add another layer but Mattheo grabbed your wrist.

“Please, you must hurry up. I don’t think I can handle you rubbing on my thigh much longer. It’s bloody torture,” Mattheo breath hitched as you twisted out of his grip and returned your hand back to his thigh. The knot from before threatened to jump out of your throat at his words, but you weakly laughed it off as you continued applying the cooling paste. The Quidditch player should’ve also won a championship for self-restraint, for even with your hands brushing the edge of his plaid boxers, he was well composed. You figured it was the pain from his injuries to save both of your egos.

“Maybe I like you in a compromising position. Makes you less… godly, I guess,” You joked with a soft smirk. Mattheo made an odd gurgling noise that sounded like a choked groan, but your back was turned to him while looking for a bandage. When you turned back around, Mattheo’s eyes were opened with a thigh-clenching darkness to them. Swallowing dryly, you chose to ignore it and started to bandage up his thigh. Mattheo’s fingers twitched at his side, as if he were trying to reach out. The wicked side of you just wished he would. “Too tight?”

“No, that’s fine... Fuck, maybe we should stop talking,” Mattheo snapped out of whatever trance he was in and sat up.

“I don’t know… what you’re talking about…” You mentally kicked yourself at how timid you sounded. Mattheo leaned forward and grabbed your waist tightly with his free hand. You gasped at the way his fingers dug into your sides and the show of strength it was to make you crash into him. “Mattheo, this is highly inappropriate-!”

“Does that mean you’re going to stop me?” Mattheo’s voice dropped an octave and the bass vibrated your core. You shook your head with a stammer, but still you let Mattheo bring his warm breath from your ear to your jaw.

“Madam Pomfrey- She might-” You struggled to keep your composure as to not give Mattheo the satisfaction. You suppressed a moan with a cough.

“Then you should be quiet, hm, love?” Mattheo grinned against your jaw before dragging his mouth down further. He pulled you against his sling, wincing only slightly as you pressed into his bad arm.

“You don’t even like me,” You said breathily, trying to convince yourself more so than the man trailing kisses down to your collarbones. “You’re just confused… or like… misguided because I healed you.”

“What do you know about me, love?” Mattheo removed his mouth so that he could look at you. He grabbed your face with a conviction that silenced you. His eyes were deliciously glazed with lust and you felt yourself start to slip into his clutches. He strategically placed his mouth anywhere on your face except for your lips. While it was a tantalizing jest, it was a strange reminder that this was just sex for him.

“Mmm… I know that I’m not letting you take me in the infirmary,” You hissed. Mattheo grinned while he pulled you closer onto him and pressed his thigh against your legs. Your body betrayed you and you let out a soft moan.

“"How very stubborn of you..." Mattheo whispered in a low voice as he placed his mouth back on your neck. He attempted to bait you into grinding against him by rutting his thigh deeper into your core. "But... you're not fooling me. I know you're enjoying this just as much as I am..."

“It’s not a matter of enjoyment,” You stammer with a louder moan. Mattheo chuckled with satisfaction.

“Sure it isn't, love," Mattheo mocked, then he tugged free the buttons of your blouse. "Then tell me... why are you making those pretty little noises for me, hm?"

“You’re torturing me,” You pleaded. Mattheo's hand moved with a controlled eagerness, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your blouse. His eyes held a glint of satisfaction and mischief as he looked up at you. The intoxicating scent of Mattheo's cologne mixed with the scent of your own arousal filled the air, creating a heady and sensual atmosphere.

"Torture, is it? Well then, allow me to ease your suffering. Consider it repayment?" Mattheo's lips curled into a devilish smirk. “Oh, c’mon. You already took my pants off for me.”

Mattheo’s hand slipped beneath your loosened blouse, fingers tracing along your ribs. You shivered at his touch, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. Mattheo's mouth found yours again, his kiss hungry and demanding. This time, you responded with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair. He rolled his fingers into your bra and over your perched nipples. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into Mattheo's skilled hands. Your body craved him. He chuckled low in his throat, clearly pleased with your responsiveness.

“Tell me you want this,” Mattheo’s words bubbled in his throat. With the use of only one hand, he made use of the situation and dragged his mouth down to your chest instead. The second his teeth grazed the sensitive skin, you swallowed a loud moan and pulled tightly at his curls. The pain made him growl and he only repeated himself. “Tell me you want me.”

“Do I really need to stroke your ego right now?” I chuckled back a moan. Mattheo bit the skin of your breast, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to be a warning. Your thoughts melted into nothingness as his tongue began to soothe the spot he had just bitten. His hand now delved under your dress hem and his fingers swirled around the top of your panties. He snapped the waistband tauntingly with an eyebrow raised at your insolence.

“You could always stroke something else,” Mattheo murmured. He twisted a fistful of the top your panties, the digging fabric providing a taste of friction. His voice dropped down to a threat. “I’m not asking now. Tell me.”

"Mattheo, please," You whimpered, your hips unconsciously shifting towards his teasing fingers. He released his hold and instead yanked off the thin fabric. Paranoia stirred inside you and you quickly looked around the quiet infirmary to see if your boss would catch you. Madam Pomfrey must’ve actually left and entrusted the clinic in your care. Though not the moment to think of it, it warmed you with a sense of pride. You tried to focus on that thought instead of diving headfirst into Mattheo’s fantasy.

"That's not quite what I asked for, darling. Try again,” Mattheo clicked his tongue, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. He had incredible patience with you, but you just thought it was because he liked to see you in such a compromised position. He dragged an ant agonizingly slow finger up your slit while still keeping his eyes locked onto yours. You gasped at the contact, which only made him move slower.

“I want you, Mattheo, please,” You were rambling at this point, much to Mattheo’s satisfaction. His eyes darkened with desire, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Please, you have to hurry. Someone could walk in.”

"That's more like it," Mattheo purred, his finger now circling your most sensitive spot. The corners of his lips quirk up in a wicked grin, his dark hair falling in disarray around his face. You were officially delirious with lust. "But I think I'll take my time. The risk makes it more exciting, doesn't it?"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as Mattheo increased the pressure, your hips bucking involuntarily. The fear of being caught warred with the intense pleasure building within you. You couldn’t believe you were actually excited at the prospect of getting caught. Mattheo nuzzled your neck, encouraging you to tilt back your head back to expose your neck. His lips trailed hot kisses along your throat, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. At the same time, he curled his middle finger into your heat while stifling your moan by dragging his tongue in your mouth.

“If you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to stop. Do you want that, love?” Mattheo sunk his teeth into your earlobe and inserted his forefinger. “Fuck, are you sure you can handle anymore? You’re already getting off on just my fingers. Maybe this is enough for you.”

“No! No… Please, Mattheo…” Mattheo’s fingers were a delicious stretch, his hands large and rugged from his sport. They were nothing compared to yours and when he moved his thumb over your clit, you had to bite his shoulder to stop yourself from crying out. You barely caught yourself in time and forced yourself to silence your moan into a whimper. He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your desperation.

"Please what?" Mattheo taunted, still continuing the ministrations of his fingers. He move his mouth back to your breasts, which only intensified the molten lava in your veins. You sucked in every moan with a tremor. "Tell me exactly what you want, love. I want to hear you say it."

"I... I want you inside me," You managed to gasp out between embarrassment and overwhelming desire. "All of you. Now."

Mattheo growled low in his throat, his patience and control finally snapping. In one fluid motion, he pulled you back into his hospital bed, which groaned loudly in a threatening exposure. You straddled him on the thin mattress, giving you a wonderful view of his darkened face. His hands made quick work of your remaining clothes as he positioned himself between your thighs.

"Remember," Mattheo warned, while he pressed the head of his length against your opening. "Not a sound."

You nodded frantically, biting your lip hard as Mattheo slowly pushed inside you. You buried your face deep into the crook of his neck and let out the moan you’ve been holding back escape. The stretch was exquisite, bordering on painful, and you had to concentrate every fiber of your being on staying quiet. You chanted his name into his neck as a prayer to stay quiet. Mattheo's eyes were dark with lust as he watched your face, clearly enjoying your struggle to remain silent.

"God, you feel amazing. So tight, so perfect for me," Once he was fully sheathed, Mattheo paused, giving you a moment to adjust. The two of you were artfully balanced between his injuries, which provided you a small distraction from falling over the edge of your climax too quickly. You whimpered softly in response at his words, rolling your hips to encourage him to move. Mattheo took the hint, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with a powerful snap of his hips. The bed creaked ominously, and you both froze for a moment, listening for any sign that someone had heard. Mattheo snickered at your paranoia. When no one came, you gripped his shoulders and started to move yourself on his length again.

“Am I hurting you?” You asked shakily, feeling the bandage from his thigh rub up against yours. Mattheo let out another low laugh.

“I should be asking you that,” Mattheo’s voice was deliciously raspy in your ear and his chuckle made your knees weaken. You could barely hold your pace. Mattheo dug his fingers into your ass before giving it an intense smack that drove the pleasure in your stomach deeper. Surprisingly, he let you take control, but he still moved his fingers back and forth from swirling on your clit to your nipples.

“Your leg… your arm… I mean- Oh…”

“I’m fine, love. Don’t worry about me. you take me so well,” Mattheo assured. He brushed the hair out of your face and tugged it back to see your plain face. Your eyes fluttered shut as pleasure coursed through you, but Mattheo's grip on your hair tightened. "Look at me. I want to see every expression on your face."

On his command, you forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The vulnerability of being so exposed, both physically and emotionally, sent a shiver down your spine. Mattheo's eyes softened for a moment, a tender smile playing at his lips before desire overtook him again. He began to thrust up into you, matching your rhythm. The new angle had you seeing stars, and you bit your lip hard to keep from crying out. Mattheo's hand left your hair to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing over your abused lower lip.

“I’m close,” You whispered almost shamefully, panting at how hard you were trying to stay quiet. As you whispered, your face contorted with pleasure and your eyes squeezed shut. The flush of arousal spread across your cheeks and down your neck, your lips red and swollen from being bitten. Mattheo's gaze was locked on you, devouring your every expression, his own face twisted with lust and desire.

“You better look at me if you want to cum. I want you to look me in the eyes while you make a mess of yourself all over me,” Mattheo commanded with a growl. You snapped your eyes open, which was rewarded with a hand on your clit. He circled it with tighter grouping and precision, making it all the harder to stay silent. “Fuck, you’re impossibly tight. Fuck- Say my name when you finish, mmm.”

Steadying yourself with your hands planted firmly on Mattheo’s chest, you gave your hips one final grind as you felt him pull himself all the way out and slam himself back in. Without shame or remorse, you loudly cried out his name which was enough for Mattheo to spill himself inside of you. Your last moans and cries fill the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing. Mattheo finished with a grunt, his voice rough and primal. You pushed yourself off of him with a shudder and a shaky breath, barely being able to stumble into the chair that you had pulled up in the first place to treat him.

“You should prescribe me this sort of medicine more often, gods,” Mattheo still looked heavenly while leaned back, flushed with a sweaty post-coital glow. “Do you think Madam Pomfrey will write me a note for a daily dose?”

“A daily dose? You’re presumptuous,” You finally catch your breath while you button back up your dress. The hard reality of your actions rear its ugly head at you as Mattheo grunts in a real pain and you rush to give him the rest of the Wiggenweld tincture.

“What? Do you need a preexisting condition of being exclusive or something? I’m serious,” Mattheo finishes the potion and wraps his hand into yours. You let out a laugh of disbelief. Non-committal was amongst the high praise for the Quidditch player.

“I’m just your Healer, I really shouldn’t have done that…” You shake your head and finally get the balance to stand. You smooth the wrinkles of your dress and weakly smiled at the injured man. “I basically took advantage of you, Mattheo.”

“It wouldn’t be that way if you were mine,” Mattheo sat up and grabbed you with his free hand. He sprung up from the hospital bed, his grip tightening around you like a vice. His eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity as he closed the distance between you, his breath a hot reminder of the events that had just transpired. “I’ll let you think about it. But I amserious about that prescription, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You stood frozen as Mattheo released you and sauntered out of the room, his confident stride belying the injury that had brought him there in the first place. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and the lingering scent of his cologne. You were so screwed.

Part 2

Divider by @chachachannah

#SURPRISE!#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle quidditch #QuidditchPlayer!MattheoRiddle #mattheo riddle fic #Harry Potter smut #slytherin boys #Healer!Reader #Healer

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shouyuus · 2 months ago

Text

send me one + a character and i'll write you a drabble

─── 翔陽 INFAMMABLE BRIDGES

shouyou; 1,600 words; sfw, fluff; childhood friends to lovers; 5 times shou remembers + 1 time that you do

he has never been the forgetting kind -- not as a child, when, after the first time you told him you thought daisies were prettier than roses (who likes roses anyway? not you, eughck), he'd shown up at your door with dirty nails and a fistful of road-side daisies. his missing-toothed smile had been wide as a yawning horizon, bright as the first strip of lemon-yellow sunlight on a summer's day.

he's never been the forgetting kind, not as an middle school student -- even though his grades have always been nothing short of abominable, he's never forgotten that you prefer .7 lead over .5 because it's better for doodling in the edges of your notebooks.

"c'mon shou, you gotta focus if you wanna get into a good high school!" you tap your pencil against his mad scribble of illegible notes even as he whines, peering up at you with those honey-warm eyes.

"but its sooooo haaaard," he drops his face to the table, turning to pillow his cheek to the pages of the notebook, uncaring of the fact that when he picks his face back up, it'll be lead-stained. you fight back an exasperated grin, reaching out to wipe at the dark smear.

he pauses for a second at the familiar warmth of your touch. you drop your eyes back to your workbook page, resuming your work. you don't see him reach up to brush his own fingers along the place where your fingertips had touched.

later that night, with the pair of you sprawled out on your couch, flipping through channels till he settles on the sports channel, showing reruns of the local high school volleyball championships, shouyou turns to you with bright eyes and asks --

"hey! if i win the olympics gold medal for volleyball one day, will you marry me?"

you blink owlishly at him, momentarily distracted by the over-eager announcer as they exclaim over another apparently spectacular spike made by a guy named the little giant.

you shrug, "sure -- if you ever get olympics gold."

he's never been the forgetting kind, not as high school student, a even though you're cities apart now -- he shows up at your culture festival, sweaty and out of breath. you blink at him from behind the takoyaki stand, the smell of slightly burnt dough singeing your nostrils.

"s-shou! what're you --"

"s-sorry i'm l-late! h-had to bi-bike across the mountains --" he pants, propping his palms on his knees, careless of the alarmed looks of the other students still queueing up for their takoyakis, "but i d-didn't wanna miss your takoyaki stand!"

you stare, slack-jawed, wracking your brain for when you'd told him (but of course you had; you tell him everything, don't you?).

someone nudges you and you jerk out of your reverie, hurriedly flipping the takoyakis in your pan, grimacing slightly at the burnt backs. you give the queueing customers an apologetic smile as you scoop them out and drizzle them in sauce.

shouyou waits the entire 45 minutes it takes to get to the front of the line, grinning as he hands over a crumpled bill and asks for two servings. you cock your head, but he reaches over to flick at your sweat-beaded forehead.

"one's for you, duh!"

he's never been the forgetting kind, even though you know he spends all his time practicing, and it's hard, being 3rd years, what with uni apps to worry about and careers to consider.

he shows up at your door at 11:54pm, his hair tousled, his cheeks kissed pink by the cold. his breath frosts the air between you as he shoots you a bright grin and holds out a bouquet of flowers (your eyes linger on the tiny white daisies scattered throughout the bouquet like so many handfuls of lost stars).

"congrats on getting into u tokyo!" he pushes the flowers into your hands, glancing up at the darkened sky just as the first flakes of snow start to fall. you purse your lips, staring down at the flowers, a soft laugh creeping up your throat as you take half a step back to let him in.

"thanks, shou -- but you didn't need to buy me flowers, or anything -- and i know you're training for nationals --"

he shakes his head, stepping into the genkan and patting at the snow in his hair. you giggle, reaching up to dust at his shoulders, wondering vaguely when he'd gotten tall enough for you to have to reach up --

"course i did! not every day your b-best friend gets into the best university in all of japan!" he laughs, but when you join in with a soft giggle, he quiets, looking at you with those dark, steady eyes. you don't ask him why he'd stuttered over the word best friend -- it's what you are (though something inside you clunks)... because that's what you'd always been.

he's never been the forgetting kind, not as an adult, halfway across the world, two oceans keeping the pair of you apart. your phone rings early on a wednesday morning, and you scrub at your eyes, frowning as you swipe up to answer.

"shou? what's wrong? why're you up so late --?"

"happy birthday," he says, his voice still gravely from sleep.

warmth pools in the depths of your belly as you slump back onto your own bed, throwing an arm over your eyes to shield you from the first rays of unforgiving sunlight streaming through your window. you don't try to fight the grin that spreads across your lips as you whisper a soft --

"thanks."

a beat of silence crackles across the line.

shouyou clears his throat; it's a marvel, really, how much a few years a couple thousand miles can change the sound of a person's voice -- roughen it up around the edges, deepen it till it unspools something tucked inside you, or perhaps, it had always been his to undo -- and you'd just been waiting for him to reach out and do it.

"isn't it like... 1am in germany? don't you have a game tomorrow?"

"yep, but... still wanted to be the first one to wish you happy birthday." you can almost hear the light-bending gravity of his smile, all cheek and teeth and half-moon eyes.

you sigh, nodding, before you remember he can't see.

"well, you are -- you always are."

he hums, barely stifling a yawn. you crinkle your nose.

"go to bed, shou. i'll call you before your game tomorrow."

"okay," he says, and you hear the faint sounds of sheets shuffling as he settles back into his blankets. you roll onto your side and stare at the array of small trinkets he's brought back for you over the years -- a volleyball keychain, a tiny crow plush, a christ the redeemer statue from rio, an eiffel tower snow-globe from paris.

"i love you." he says. and there's no hesitation, no buildup, just a simple statement of fact. you sink deeper into your pillow, your cheeks awash with heat.

"yeah... i know," you whisper, pulling your blankets up over your head like you used to when the pair of you were still young enough to build blanket forts in his living room, giggling over stolen cookies and a flashlight clutched between chocolate-sticky fingers.

"good," he says, with a contented sigh.

"sleep, shou," you say. and he hums again, laughing. the sound rocks through you, soft and sweet as a rising tide, coming home to shore.

"yeah, gnight."

you've never been the forgetting kind, not when it's the most important day of his whole life (though he might argue, later on, the pair of you tangled in the sheets of his hotel room, his arm banded over your stomach as he nuzzles his face into your cheek, that the most important day of his life was when he first met you) --

"shou!"

he knows its you even before he turns to see you, the sound of your voice carried above the roaring of the crowd as he wipes at his face with the already soaked bottom of his jersey.

he turns just in time to catch you as you bowl into him, careless of the massive bouquet of flowers clutched in your arms, now squashed between you as he hoists you up with a joyous laugh.

he kisses you in front of the entire crowd, and you let him. of course you do.

later, when an interviewer asks you what it's like to have an olympic gold medalist as your boyfriend, you cut her off to say --

"fiancé."

she blinks, cocking her head, looking bewildered, even as shouyou jerks back, staring down at you, mouth agape.

the interviewer looks between the pair of you before asking, "sorry, did i hear that right? the pair of you are engaged?"

you shoot her a toothy grin, "yep!" before turning to grin up at an utterly shell-shocked shouyou with, "i promised i'd marry you if you ever won an olympic gold, remember?"

at this, shouyou's whole body softens, slackening as he tips into a fit of full-bellied laughter, pulling you into him for another sweet kiss, one that has the interviewer glancing away for just a second.

"yeah... yeah i do... god, i can't believe you remember that!"

you roll your eyes, giving him a playful shove, "i can't believe you forgot."

he shakes his head, "i didn't. i never did. i just..." he trails off, smiling helplessly down at you.

you lean up to give him another little peck on the lips.

"well, no going back on it now, shou."

shouyou nods, turning back to the interviewer with a bright smile, "nope, wasn't ever planning on it."

taglist: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @dira333 @fennecnco @ryescapades @katiekawls @ally-all-around @arahiraaai - join the taglist

shouyou nation: @neiptune @shoyosh @dearru (i hope u guys dont mind being tagged! pls let me know if you dont want to be!!!)

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