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reiden · 2 days

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we bring our fantasy to life | s.hinata

Hinata has a habit of spoiling you, not only when it comes to material possessions, but with anything you wish for. And you should really thank him for it. It's only right, you think.

cw: 18+, f!reader, oral (male receiving)

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The wind chime that hangs out on your balcony twinkles in a sweet tune, the sound drifting into your apartment along with the rays of the early morning sun. Hinata brought it back for you from Brazil; it's made of bells hidden inside of seashells, carved pieces of glass, and twine. It's charming in its own right, but it means more because he bought it for you. (It was the first thing he got with his first ever paycheck as a delivery boy, and he had messaged you about it too.)

You think he's always been too willing with you. Hinata always indulges you, perhaps more than he should. You try to gently chide him into not spoiling you so much, try telling him that he doesn't need to get you a gift whenever the urge strikes him; Hinata never really listens, just takes your lighthearted scolding with red ears and a sheepish smile.

You can't really complain anyway — you quite like knowing he's thinking of you.

As you lay beneath your comforter, head sinking into your pillows, you reach out a hand and trace a line down Hinata's bicep, following the curve of his muscle. The years he spent in Brazil turned him into someone new; he had come back to you stronger, bigger. He had come back with his instincts sharper and his smile wider, and his love for you nearly tripled, it seems. Something squeezes and shudders in your chest as you watch the subtle ways his face shifts in his sleep. His lashes brush the apples of his cheeks and his lips are parted slightly, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He's every bit as endearing asleep as he is awake — and you can hardly believe he's yours.

It's a strange position to be in: to date someone with so much fame. The world is watching his every move and, by extension, they are watching yours too. Hinata never shies away from speaking about you; he posts you on social media, takes you out on dates. And people talk — of course they do. Everyone has opinions on everything and your relationship with Hinata is no exception to that. Some of them think you're too plain for a pro-athlete, especially one as prolific as Hinata Shouyou. Sometimes, you start to believe them.

Hinata is every bit willing to give you the world, should you ask for it. And while you're willing to do the same for him, he would be able and you could only ever make a good-faith attempt. You can tell him time and time again how enamoured you are by him, how grateful you are to have him; Shouyou, thank you. Shouyou, what would I do without you? Shouyou, I love you.

It doesn't really measure up — not in your eyes, anyway. (Hinata insists otherwise but you're allowed to disagree with him sometimes.)

Shouyou," you whisper, shuffling closer. He's so warm — you can feel the steady thrum of his heart beating as you slot your head in the crook of his neck. "Are you awake?"

And then: "I love you."

You bring your arm up and curl it under your head, the other skims up his shoulder and curves over his neck. You can feel his body moving with each cyclical breath; you wait for him to wake up. Some part of you wants to shake him awake, but you imagine he has several good things to dream about, and you'd hate to interrupt.

The longer you stare, the harder it becomes for you to be patient.

Hinata had returned a little over a month ago. You'd been expecting him for the whole week before he came back home, cleaning and reorganising your apartment, repeatedly checking your reflection in every mirror you pass by. You suspect that he'd wanted to surprise you, but — as with most things concerning you and him — he'd agreed to your whims and filled you in on all the details. You had waited for him at the airport when he'd arrived, and you had cried in his arms (which, you had immediately noted, had gotten much bigger in the time you'd spent apart) while he tried to soothe the ache of a wound that could finally begin to heal.

He'd called you every single night and yet, when he had you in his arms once more, Hinata had so much more to say. And you'd listened — hanging off of every word like missing even a second of him would break you.

You remember how he was bouncing his leg in the taxi back to your place; you had assumed it was just his excitement to be back home. That could have only been half of it — he'd been more excited to get his hands on you.

And as soon as the both of you stumbled past the front door, as soon as you had turned to welcome him home with a coy smile, Hinata was kissing you. He spent the next few hours simply learning your body once more: he'd mapped his love onto your skin long ago and now, he was retracing his steps, finding all the ways to make you squirm, whine, plead and beg. Embarrassingly, you were nothing more than a dazed mess at the end of it.

"You're always so sensitive, baby."

The memory of him rasping those words into the shell of your ear has you growing even more impatient. Involuntarily, your thighs press together; the ghost of his touch along your skin is fleeting — if you close your eyes, you can still feel it.

He must feel your insistent stare. Hinata stirs awake slowly, stretching his arms out first before his eyes even peel open. You watch with your smile hidden behind your hand as he fights sleep, finally meeting your softened gaze.

"Good morning," you say first, lovelorn as you watch him smile.

Hinata typically wakes up earlier than you. His schedule is a lot stricter than yours, and his discipline is stronger than yours as well. His body is used to waking up in tandem with the sunrise — you prefer to wait until the rays of sun greet you. But he's been given some time off, a short break to recuperate, and for once, Hinata had slept in with you. "Morning," he says, quietly though not cheerfully. His voice is gritty from the hours of sleep and the sound only lights a flame in your stomach.

You make your move then, not wanting to delay it any longer. Hinata's watching you curiously as you shift over him, and make room for yourself between his legs. The soft wrinkle between his brows, the way he's watching you so intently, only makes that flame grow as it begins to burn brighter.

He doesn't seem to put two-and-two together until your hands are sliding down his stomach, feeling the ridges of his well-trained muscles.

"Hey..." he laughs, the sound coming out breathy and soft, touched with a kind of disbelief he shouldn't still have. It's almost as if Hinata can't believe he has you in the same way you can't believe you have him. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," you reply, fingers curling into the waistband of his shorts. You tug at it, lowering it down his hips and his thighs. The way Hinata hisses at the cool air has a shiver rushing down the length of your spine. "I didn't think you'd be hard already," you accompany your words with a soft snicker.

Hinata whines in response, his hips chasing your fingers as they withdraw from him. "How could I not be? You're so hot—" his voice catches in his throat when you press your hand down on his thigh, thumb tracing his tan line. "Baby, please." You can imagine him now, standing on the sandy beaches of Rio De Janeiro, each grain easily felt beneath his bare feet. He must have been a sight to behold: sun-kissed skin, sweat perspiring on his forehead and over his back, mouth stretched into a self-assured grin.

You’re jealous, really — you should’ve been there too. It’s easy to picture him there, basking in the sunlight; the fact that others had gotten to see him like that stoked the fire burning in the cavity of your stomach.

“Can’t believe you woke me up just to tease,” Hinata pouts, sleep lacing his voice and making it sound almost stuck in his throat. He shifts his weight around, squirming as you skim your nails up his thighs.

You don't dignify him with a response. Hinata sucks in a sharp breath, "Where'd this come from anyway, huh?"

"Just felt like it," you hum, kneeling between his thighs. You place your hands on his hips, squeeze once, and then smooth your palms up his sides.

Hinata's skin is hot under your wandering touch. He's been good and kept his hands at his sides — an accomplishment for him considering how much he enjoys taking any and every opportunity to touch you. He stares down at you with a darkened gaze, his need for you written clearly in the deep brown of his irises. It's a look you've seen before, and one you will never tire of; it tugs at something deep inside of you, in the same way a puppeteer manipulates and pulls at the strings of his creations. You fall right in and you always give in.

Your hand curls around the base of his shaft — finally, finally — and Hinata hisses once more. He's jumpy already, hips bucking into your hand as you massage the skin. The sound of your name falling from his lips only encourages you to increase your pace; his legs jolt beneath your free hand.

Hinata's an eager lover. He's always yearning, hoping for more. When you're with him you truly feel desired, even at your worst of times. Your scent, your touch, your voice — this is all he knows. A low groan rumbles deep inside of his chest when you bend down, your soft lips wrapping around the head of his cock. You don't think he's really thinking when he jerks his hips up, forcing himself deeper into your mouth.

You're breathing through your nose, fighting the urge to gag when you feel him hit the back of your throat. And you keep him there, nose pressed flush against his pubic bone where you can smell his minty body wash.

"Move— please—" Hinata grunts. His fingers twist into the sheets at the same time you moan around his cock, and his hips lurch forward. "C'mon, baby." There's an edge to his voice, a warning simmering beneath the begging. Hinata knows how to hold himself back but his restraint is only so strong, and once the threads begin to fray, it's only a matter of seconds before he snaps.

But that isn't exactly an unfavourable outcome.

You hum around him once more. Hinata shivers. He mutters a curse under his breath, your nails dig into his thighs, and then his fingers are tangling themselves in your hair. His palm is insistent when it pushes down on the crown of your head, but he waits to move. Instead, he looks down at you with a silent question: Is this okay?

Your answer comes in the form of your tongue laving around him, running up and along the underside of his cock. It's all the answer he needs, really, and you go lax in his grip as he tugs you forward. Hinata pulls at your hair, manoeuvres you exactly where he wants you. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking along your cheekbone, like he's apologising for pulling your hair and causing you pain.

(Not that he needs to — the feeling of hurt blooming under your scalp had sent heat searing down your body, and right between your legs. Hinata's looking down at you like he knows it; he's wearing a wicked grin.)

He guides you, bobbing your head up and down in tandem with each purposeful thrust of his hips. Your eyes flutter, going half-mast, and all you can really do is stare up at him through your lashes; your eyes glisten with tears that have yet to fall. Hinata's movements are stunned and he wrinkles the bedding beneath you both as he moves. You try your best to rub your tongue over him in a way he can appreciate, suck sloppily around the base of his shaft before he's pulling you off again. Every noise is lewd, obscene, and when he pushes in too deep, you're not able to stifle the way you gag and your throat tightens around him.

Hinata's quick to pull back, "Fuck, I'm sorry." But he doesn't sound quite as guilty as his big, brown eyes make him out to be — and the noise is not nearly as offending as it would have been in any other context.

You let him use you; it's the least you can do, you think, for the way he treats you like you are the moon and stars. And it's not all one-sided, if the way your arousal pools between your thighs says anything. He's trembling and your heart is racing. "Shit— I'm gonna come," Hinata pants quietly.

You want him to, you really, really do. So you hollow out your cheeks and you suck harder, the tip of your tongue tracing a vein that circles around his cock. You can feel him pulsing in your mouth, tongue catching along the dip of his tip. Hinata lets out a shuddering breath that wanes into a weak moan, his cheeks flushed. You swallow around him and plant your hands firmly on his thighs.

He comes with a strangled whine, bending his neck back and into the pillows. The taste of him floods your senses but you ignore the twang as you swallow, like it's second-nature. Hinata's hand falls from your hair, and he's looking down at you with a lovesick smile; you don't let up — not yet.

At least, you had planned not to but the hand cupping your cheek moves down to your jaw, gripping it tightly as he pulls you off of him. His cock is shiny with your spit, a thin strand of saliva following your mouth as you break away from him.

"You're perfect, you know that?" he asks, grabbing you and pulling you into his lap with ease. "So pretty — my pretty girl." Hinata pulls you into a searing kiss, lips meshing with yours as he licks into your mouth. You moan softly, anticipation filling your chest; it feels electric as it sparks down your arms and down your legs, static in your fingertips.

Hinata runs a hand down the curve of your spine, trailing his finger along the hem of your panties. He's not taking them off like you want him to, and you can't pull away to tell him to either. He keeps you in place with his free hand around your nape.

You weren't supposed to get this far. The morning was meant to start and end with Hinata — it was about your appreciation for him. And yet, he's indulging you once again as you squirrel around in his lap. His laugh warms in your chest and your heart swells. You feel Hinata hook his fingers into your underwear, pulling them clean off in a matter of a few seconds.

He throws you around with ease. Your back hits the mattress, your head sinking into the pillows he had been laying on moments ago. Hinata hovers over you, his eyes glancing all over your body and your face, as if he's seeing you for the first time. His gaze is sinister and the way his mouth twitches into a smirk has goosebumps erupting all over your skin.

"I think I need to return the favour," he sighs, trailing fervent kisses down your neck just to get to the sensitive spot below your ear. You can feel Hinata smile against your skin when you mewl in response to his gentle bite.

Your hands meet his bare chest, as though you're about to push him away. Maybe you should, he's giving in to you like he always does. But you don't and instead, you loop your arms around his neck, letting them slide off of him as your hands dig into his hair. Hinata moves down your body. "Shouyou — I was trying to thank you," you whisper, watching him press a kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You shudder, much to Hinata's visible delight.

"You can thank me like this too," he simply replies, teeth sinking into the fat of your thigh. You suck in a sharp breath, thoughts scattering quick like skittish animals.

You hadn't thought about it until now — staring down at Hinata as his breath ghosts over your cunt. There's a faraway look in his eyes, his nails dig into your thighs, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so content.

Maybe, when he indulges you, he's indulging himself too.

#no one look at me...#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata smut #wr.iting

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vanteguccir · 4 hours

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TikTok trends | Matt Sturniolo | pt. 4

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: 4 times that Y/N and Matt made a couple's trend on tiktok.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Kinda?

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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1. Decorating my boyfriend's car super girly and seeing his reaction

Going downstairs quietly so as not to wake anyone, considering it was still too early for any of the triplets - and even Y/N - to be awake, Y/N entered the garage. Matt's car, an impeccably clean black one, was there, parked and oblivious to what was coming.

The girl turned on the room light and made sure she had closed the door before finally unlocking the car ones by simply touching the small control in her hands.

Opening the driver's door with her unoccupied hand, Y/N climbed in, sitting down on the seat, a sound of complaint escaping her throat as she noticed how far and low the seat was - obviously adjusted for Matt's height. She quickly adjusted the position of it until she felt comfortable and, finally, put her phone in the support attached to the lower center of the windowshield, exactly where the boys supported their camera during car videos, her right hand instinctively flying towards the ceiling lights, turning it on.

Y/N unlocked the device and quickly browsed through the apps until she found TikTok, opening it and entering the recording space, adjusting the focus to ensure that every detail was captured, and pressed the red button.

"Good morning, TikTok!" The girl muttered in a low tone, a mischievous glint clearly apparent in her eyes. "Today, I'm going to do the biggest trolling of all in my boyfriend's car. Let’s turn it into a real preppy car!"

Y/N started by taking the first piece from the box of items she had prepared: a pink fuzzy cover for the steering wheel. The cover was a vibrant pink, with a soft, cozy feel to the touch.

Y/N carefully slid the cover over its right place, making sure every inch was covered and fitted perfectly. The fluff glowed below the yellow light, giving the steering wheel a luxurious, exaggerated appearance.

Then, she picked up two pink cup holders, filled with glitter, both twinkling every time the light hit one of them, as if it was full of little stars. Y/N laughed to herself as she placed them on the center console's cup rests, fitting them in and smiling widely when she noticed how perfect the size was.

"Matt will love putting our morning Starbucks here, for sure.” The girl murmured, looking up and sending a wink towards the camera.

The next step was to decorate the air conditioning vents. Y/N had bought several mini pink decorations, also full of glitter, each one more extravagant than the last. There were little hearts, stars, and even some fake diamonds. She carefully attached each to the air vents, adjusting until they were all secure and at a good enough distance to notice them all.

"Get ready for style and glamor to be blown throughout the car when Chris asks Matt to turn on the air conditioning during videos." She joked while still adjusting the last small items.

The car's gearshift could not be forgotten. Y/N pulled out a smaller sized pink fuzzy cover, specially designed. It was soft to the touch, matching the steering wheel cover perfectly. She slid it over the gear, adjusting it so it was secure, her right hand closing around the cover, smiling as she felt the small hairs caressing her palm.

Finally, to complete the look, Y/N took a pink diamond-shaped pendant, stretching her upper body upwards and extending her hands, hanging it around the rearview mirror. The pendant swayed slightly by itself, reflecting the light and casting small colored reflections throughout the interior of the all car.

"I feel like I'm in Barbie: a Fashion Fairytale." Y/N said, letting out a nasal laugh, resting her back against the backrest of the seat so that her eyes could analyze every corner of the car, admiring her final work.

She then turned her attention back to her cell.

"Alright, guys, the car is ready. Now we just need to wait for Matt to wake up and see his reaction."

The video stopped at that moment before it returned seconds later.

"I went upstairs after fixing the last details and woke up Matt, I made up that I was hungry, but that I wanted to have breakfast at a café." Y/N began with a hushed tone, now sitting in the passenger seat, her phone now in her hands. "I waited for him to get up and get ready before telling him I would wait for him in the car."

It didn't take long and soon Y/N heard Matt's footsteps coming down the stairs that led to the garage, her eyes looking up in time to see the silhouette of her boyfriend appearing in the doorway. She pressed her lips into a thin line in an attempt to contain her laughter.

Her eyes followed Matt's steps, who walked quickly towards the driver's seat door, the sound of the door opening echoing through the small space was followed by anticipation on Y/N's part, who looked at the camera to Matt and back again, waiting for his reaction.

"Hey, sweet girl, I'm sorry it took me so..." He interrupted his own sentence, his movements instantly stopping for a few seconds. "Y/N! What- What did you do to my car?!" Matt's voice echoed in a tone of disbelief, the surprise evident on his face not yet visible to the phone camera.

"Come on, babe, sit down so you can take a better look at this incredible work I did just for you." The girl asked in a fake sweet tone, smiling openly and leaning her upper body over the console, extending her right arm so that her hand could touch Matt's, holding it firmly and pulling him inside.

The boy, still wide-eyed and surprised, obeyed, sitting on the leather covered seat - already arranged again to his own taste - and closing the door with a thud.

"Where- When did you even get all those things?" Matt questioned again, his blue eyes quickly traveling over every pink detail before turning his attention back to Y/N, his mouth slightly open.

"Yesterday, duh." The girl answered as if it was obvious, shrugging her shoulders before her neutral expression broke into a smile again. "Did you like it? It's pretty, right? I'm sure your videos will be much cooler now."

"Babe, oh my God." Matt's voice sounded airy, eliciting a laugh from Y/N. He didn't know where to focus his attention, different shades of pink calling his eyes from every corner. "I can't lie. It looks so good." The boy finally reached out with his hands, his fingers curling around his steering wheel, pressing lightly against the extremely fluffy fabric over his palm.

"I know, right?" Y/N responded excitedly, briefly glancing at her cell that was still recording them. "Look at the cup holder, babe!" Her tone rose as she reached out toward the console, pointing to the pink cup holder with her index finger.

"So I can put in your favorite Starbucks drink every morning, huh?" Matt lowered his gaze to the item, shaking his head amusedly as he heard his girlfriend agree excitedly.

"Next step: getting the car wrapped in pink."

"Are you crazy?"

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2. Pretending to be asleep to see my boyfriend's reaction

Y/N was home alone, comfortable silence filling every corner as she waited for Matt to return from the street. He had gone out to get a specific sweet that she had been asking for for days, and the only place where they sold it didn't deliver.

Sitting comfortably on the grey couch in the living room, the girl was immersed in TikTok videos when a new couple trend appeared on her For You Page, catching her attention; Pretending to be asleep to see my boyfriend's reaction.

Y/N didn't think twice before making the decision to join the cycle of famous couples replicating the trend, quickly leaving TikTok, and opening the location app she shared with Matt. Watching his icon move across the colorful map, she calculated that she still had a few minutes before he arrived, rising from the couch seconds later, running down the small hallway that led to their room.

First, she took the plush, gray bedspreads off the bed, folding it and leaving it on Matt's gaming chair. The soft light from the already turned on lamp created a calm and welcoming atmosphere, perfect for what she had in mind.

She then adjusted her phone on the nightstand on her side of the bed, ensuring the camera was pointed directly at the mattress and the space Matt would enter, propping it against the lamp and organizing the minimal decorations that was always above the furniture around the device in a way that it disguised its existence there.

Checking the app again, she saw that Matt was just a few blocks away. Y/N hurried to lay down, adjusting herself comfortably but naturally.

She turned slightly to her back, rescuing Matt's pillow and hugging it to her chest, not stopping herself from lightly exhaling the natural scent of her boyfriend's male shampoo and cologne that permeated into the fabric, closing her eyes and regulating her breathing to make it seem like she was actually sleeping.

A few minutes later, she finally heard Matt's footsteps echoing across the floor, going from quieter to louder, indicating that he was getting closer to the room. She kept her eyes closed, trying to contain a wide smile as her heart beat fastned.

Matt's footsteps approached the door, the sound of it opening echoing after, the familiar sound of the paper bag he was carrying filling Y/N's ears.

"Babe, I found the one that you wanted, and guess what? They had just made it!" Matt started talking as soon as he entered the space, his voice excited and loud, before noticing the silence in the room.

The boy looked up, his eyes running around before noticing his girlfriend lying on their shared bed, lowering his voice when he noticed her apparently sleeping figure, his expression softening immediately, a small smile settling on his lips.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, walking with steps of a feather towards the bed, the sound of his sock-covered feet tapping against the wooden floor gently echoing through the four walls.

His busy hand placed the bag with the sweet on the nightstand beside his side before he approached the edge of the bed, admiration written all over his face as he looked at Y/N.

He bent his knees slightly, curving his upper body over the mattress and bringing his face closer to Y/N's head, using his left hand to support his own weight, just watching her sleep for a few seconds, a tender smile on her face.

Matt then lowered his head so that his face was close to hers, sealing his lips over her forehead and head repeatedly, but very lightly and slowly, without the intention of waking her up.

"You're so beautiful when you sleep, you know that?" He whispered, his voice filled with affection, stroking the side of her face lightly with the tip of his nose before reaching out with his right hand, gently brushing away the loose strands of hair with his fingertips, taking them away from her eyes, being careful. His touch was light, almost like a gentle breeze.

Matt looked around, noticing the phone on Y/N's nightstand, but didn't suspect anything thanks to the low brightness of the screen. He just smiled, enjoying the moment, taking note of how the surroundings seemed as calm as ever.

Taking the corner of the duvet that was at the foot of the bed, he gently pulled it over his girlfriend, making sure she was comfortable and warm, petting the thick fabric lightly, molding it to his girl's body.

Then he got up again, reaching his hands to his bedside table, taking the bag with the sweet he had brought between his fingers. It was an angel cake with strawberry filling and whipped cream, Y/N's favorite.

The boy took the box with the cake out of the bag, being careful not to make any loud sounds, leaving the brown paper bag on the wood surface before walking towards Y/N's bedside table slowly, leaving the frame of the phone's front camera for a few seconds, placing the small white cardboard box above it.

"Hope you like it." The brunette murmured again, more to himself than to her.

Matt then returned to his side of the bed, resting his right hand on the mattress and taking off his socks before finally laying down next to her, being careful not to make too much noise or sudden movements.

After snuggling as best he could under the duvet, he turned on his side, bringing the front of his body closer to the back of Y/N's one, wrapping an arm around her waist slowly, gently pulling her closer, his hand automatically finding its way under the oversized t-shirt that covered Y/N's upper body down to her thighs, snaking his hand across the soft skin of his girl's stomach and finding home beneath her right breast, just as he did every day, not seeming to notice the shiver that ran through her body, closing his eyes.

Y/N couldn't help but relax her body even more under her boyfriend's gentle touch, snuggling closer, feeling a deep peace settle in her chest, momentarily forgetting that she was even recording something.

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3. Trying the spray trend on my boyfriend

Y/N was in the bathroom she shared with Matt, her hands working on resting her phone on the marble sink in a way that it wouldn't be obvious that she was recording, the screen with low brightness already open on the TikTok app. She made sure the frontal camera was well positioned, capturing the perfect angle from the bathroom door to the area where she would be standing.

Then, Y/N bent down slightly and opened the cabinet under the sink, her right hand retrieving a spray deodorant she had recently purchased, taking off the cap and setting it aside. With everything ready, the girl turned to her cell again, pressing the record button with her thumb.

Y/N smiled playfully at the camera before turning away from the device and extending her right hand, opening the bathroom door.

"Matt!" The low, muffled sound of Matt's voice shouting back echoed down the hallway leading to the bathroom. "Babe, can you come here for a minute?"

She waited, listening to her boyfriend's footsteps approaching. His figure quickly appeared in front of the already open door, a confused look on his face.

"What's wrong, babe? Do you need help with something?"

"I bought this new deodorant that says it's unscented, but I think it has a slight lavender scent. Can you smell it and tell me what you think?" Y/N asked, her tone sounding naive, holding the spray deodorant at the height she knew would be ideal for him to reach it, and pointing the hole where the product exited upwards.

"Sure." Matt nodded, still a little confused, but willing to help. He entered the bathroom completely and approached Y/N, tilting his head closer to the area where his girlfriend was holding the spray.

Y/N pressed the button on the top of the deodorant, creating a white cloud that slowly rose. Matt leaned even closer to smell the scent, a look of genuine concentration written across his face, and at that exact moment Y/N moved quickly, closing the distance between their faces and pressing her lips softly against his.

The kiss was quick and surprising, and she could feel Matt's slight shiver of surprise, a sound of shock escaping his throat.

When she pulled away, Matt's eyes were wide, his eyelids blinking rapidly as his brain tried to assimilate what had happened, his cheeks slowly turning into a bright red hue, a small smile appearing on the corner of his lips.

"What?" A loud laugh escaped Y/N's mouth as she watched his reaction, noticing his shy expression.

"You're a little devil." Matt shook his head comically. His tongue acted on its own as it escaped his mouth, passing his lips carefully, the taste of mint flooding his palate. "Is that mint?"

"Maybe." Y/N replied with the ghost of a smile, vaguely remembering how she had applied the Space Camp mind lip balm a few minutes earlier.

"Can I have another taste of it?"

"Matt!"

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4. Using my scary dog privilege to walk alone at night

It was a quiet, cool evening as Y/N and Matt were taking a walk after a nice dinner at a home-cooked Italian restaurant close to their home.

Y/N's eyes swept the deserted streets in front of her, quickly looking back over her shoulder, taking note of Matt a few steps behind her body, vaguely remembering a TikTok she had watched earlier that day, the environment around them reminding her a lot of the one in the video.

With that, she decided to record one, too.

And how she was when she was beautiful

The girl was now holding her phone in her right hand, her screen with TikTok already open in the recording area staring back at her, the sound of the Babooshka song melody playing at a low volume from her speakers.

Her half-closed eyes were fixed on the front camera, which recorded her face contorted into a small smirk, her hair moving around her face as if it was planned, a consequence of the light wind that surrounded her and her measured steps, which never stopped.

She signed the letter

Y/N slightly raised her hand that was holding her cell so that the camera now captured the view from behind her back.

All yours

The video captured the image of Matt following in her footsteps, his body completely covered in black clothing, making a perfect contrast with the yellow night lights coming from the tall poles above their heads.

His posture was erect and his head remained high, his arms crossed so that his biceps were visible against the thin fabric of his black shirt and a serious expression resting on his face - as usual -, his eyes fixed straight ahead, as if he was on alert of everything, accompanied by his furrowed eyebrows, giving an impression of anger to anyone who saw him from afar.

Y/N, watching the image through the tilted phone screen that was still recording her boyfriend, felt a shiver run down her spine; a small, satisfied smile blooming on her face.

Matt was definitely a scary Doberman by her side.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

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solarmorrigan · 2 days

Text

Open Doors, part 2

Part 1 | Ao3

Tags: POV Outsider, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Protective Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Abandonment Issues, Eddie Munson Has Control Issues, it's okay though they love each other and they'll work on it, Past Domestic Violence, (not between any of the main characters; does not go into detail), Arguing, the looming specter of period-typical homophobia, Happy Endings Only I promise

The walls in the building are hardly paper-thin, but they aren’t that thick, either. Gladys registers, if distantly, when the sound of raised voices travels from one of the other apartments down the hall. The sound of a door slamming not long after that is a bit louder.

She’s tempted to get up and see who it is that’s apparently storming out—just a quick peek—but she’s really hit a stride in her knitting and can’t be bothered to get up.

Of course, she has no choice when her doorbell rings about half an hour later.

Whoever she’d expected to find on the other side, it hadn’t been Steve – at least, she hadn’t been expecting Steve with his shoulders slumped and his eyes a bit red, trying to smile and give her a little wave like everything is completely normal.

“Hey, Gladys. Are you, um– busy?”

“Just knitting,” Gladys answers, peering at him carefully through her thick glasses. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, really, I just– y’know, just thought I’d come say ‘hi’.” Steve shrugs; his voice is convincing, but his posture tells another story, his body holding itself tense and curled-in, like it’s trying to protect him.

Gladys steps aside. “Come on in.”

Steve lets out a little sigh, something almost relieved in it as he crosses the threshold.

“Something to drink?” Gladys asks as she shuts the door behind him.

“Sure, if you’re having something,” Steve says.

Gladys glances at the clock. It’s after eight, and Steve’s never said no to an evening cup of coffee, but something tells her he doesn’t need any caffeine right now. “I’ll make us some tea,” she decides.

They trade pleasantries while the water boils and the tea steeps, but once they’re both seated at her little kitchen table, mugs in hand, Gladys sees no reason in beating around the bush.

“Was that you boys yelling?” she asks.

Steve, his posture still tense, somehow goes even stiffer in his chair. “You heard that?”

“Nothing clearly, but the walls aren’t that thick.” Gladys pauses, considering. “Heard the door slam, too.”

Pursing his lips, Steve nods. “Yeah, we, uh… got into it a little, I guess,” he says quietly, eyes trained on the table.

“Over what?”

Steve sighs, letting his head drop for a moment as he rubs at the back of his neck. “Stupid stuff,” he says. “I think it started over whose turn it was to do the dishes?”

Gladys nods, taking a quiet sip of her tea and encouraging him to go on.

“It’s just– Eddie hasn’t been letting me do them,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know, that’s not the complaint I expected,” Gladys raises a brow. “Most people are happy when someone does the dishes for them.”

“I mean– yeah, I was kind of enjoying it at first, but it’s been over a week and it’s just getting annoying. And he doesn’t do them right! He puts things in the dishwasher that don’t belong in the dishwasher!” Steve insists. “Which… I may have shouted at him about. And then he told me that I’m too fussy. I’m not goddamn fussy.”

He’s a little fussy, but Gladys keeps that thought to herself for the moment.

“He gets into these moods where he won’t let me do anything. Like, he just kind of takes over, decides for me what I’m capable of doing.” Steve reaches out and clutches his mug, though he makes no move to drink from it. “Like I don’t know my own body’s limitations, or like we don’t both know what my migraine triggers are. Doing chores around the house isn’t one of them.”

Ah. So that’s what this is all about.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Gladys had found Eddie caring for Steve and his migraine; he’d said that day it had been a bad one, and he hadn’t been kidding. Steve had been lain up another two days after that, and even then, when Gladys had next seen him, he’d still looked a bit pale. Eddie himself had looked drawn and tired, hovering much closer to Steve than he usually did outside the apartment.

“You scared him, I think, last week,” Gladys says. “He worries about you.”

“What, like I don’t worry about him?” Steve snaps. “He– There was… a few years ago, there was sort of a freak earthquake in our town. And Eddie, he– he was hurt pretty badly.”

Gladys has seen hints of scars on Eddie’s sides and arms when he’s been puttering around his own home in loose, loungey clothes, just the same as she can plainly see the faded scar wrapped around Steve’s neck, and some on the backs of his arms when he wears short sleeves. The more she gets to know her boys, the more she wonders about them – worries about them. But she supposes now isn’t the time to press.

“He healed up really well, like, all things considered. I made sure he went to all his physical therapy appointments and everything, but I know there are days when he still feels it, and he just pushes through, and he never gets enough sleep, and he just–” Steve leaves off with a harsh sigh. “I know he’s trying to help, but he just stresses me out every time he does this.”

He takes a sullen sip of his tea, and Gladys nods.

“You know, when Avery and I got married, my mother told me that when we fought, we should never go to bed angry–”

Steve’s eyes snap back to Gladys, startled and wide. “Eddie and I aren’t married–”

“–but that’s just bunk.” Gladys catches herself, shaking her head. “Both bits. The bit about not going to bed angry and the bit about you and Eddie not being married. I’m sure you would be, if you could be.”

Letting out the most forced laugh Gladys has ever heard, Steve shakes his head. “Why would we be married? I mean we’re both– and even if that was possible, Eddie is just my roommate. I mean– he’s one of my best friends, obviously, but we’re not–”

“Steve,” Gladys cuts in dryly, “how dumb do you think I am?”

Steve grimaces. “I don’t think you’re dumb,” he mutters.

Taking in the way his shoulders are drawn up around his ears, the way he’s let go of his mug and has pushed back just a bit from the table, like he’s preparing to get up and leave—to run from her, of all people—Gladys places a gentle hand on his arm before he can draw away entirely.

“It’s okay, dear,” she tells him. “You’re safe with me.”

“I– You don’t… care?” Steve asks carefully.

“Why should I care? Are you two hurting anyone?”

“Of course not.” Steve shakes his head, frowning. “But a lot of people have shitty stuff to say about– people like us. How we’re disgusting, or how we should be illegal, or– stuff like that.”

Gladys snorts. “A lot of people are ridiculous.”

Steve shrugs, sitting back in his chair. “At this point, I just… don’t assume anyone is on our side. And I know that sounds awful, but it’s kept us safe.”

Gladys blows out a long sigh and takes a deep pull from her mug. She doesn’t drink anymore, but some conversations still feel like they should be had over glasses of liquor; she supposes the tea will have to do.

“You know, Avery and I grew up together. We lived down the street from each other, but we spent more time at my house than at his. He didn’t like being at home. His mother was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet – kind and soft-spoken and gentle. But if she was the sweetest, then his father was the meanest.” Gladys pauses, lost for a moment in her thoughts. “He hit her. He screamed at her, belittled her. He took that good, kind woman and ground her down and used her up until there was nothing left, and no one did a god damned thing. I remember being so baffled as a child, why everyone just let it happen. I still don’t understand.

“That should have disgusted people. That should have been illegal,” Gladys says sharply, looking back up at Steve. “There are men out there hitting their wives, women screaming at their husbands, but the relationships everyone feels the need to stop are the ones with two men kissing each other? That’s the great evil?”

Steve gives her a tiny, sardonic smile. “Sometimes it’s the ones with two women.”

“Oh, of course, how could I overlook that?” Gladys rolls her eyes. “People need to gain some perspective. You and Eddie love each other, that much is clear. You’re good to each other. Why should I care about anything else?”

Slowly, Steve shakes his head. “I guess you shouldn’t.”

“You guess right,” Gladys says, nodding. “Now, about my mother’s advice.”

“My mom used to say that, too. About not going to bed angry,” Steve says. “Used to wonder how she got any sleep, then, considering how much time she spent being mad at my dad.”

Gladys hums. “Well, like I said: bunk. Not every little fight can be resolved before bedtime. Sometimes you need to sleep on it. Sometimes you need time to cool off. Sometimes you need a little space. The important part is that you’ll both be there in the morning,” she says. “The important part is that you don’t give up.”

Steve only seems to wilt at that, staring into his mug. “I’m not sure Eddie will be there in the morning. He left. I ended up coming over here because the apartment just didn’t feel right without him there.”

“I can sympathize,” Gladys says, and Steve winces.

“Sorry,” he says, glancing up. “This must seem kinda petty to you.”

“I said I understand.” Gladys reaches out and grips Steve’s wrist, giving it an affectionate little shake. “I don’t think it’s silly at all.”

Steve manages a twitch of a smile, but it falls quickly. “I just… What if I managed to chase him away? I’m really not sure what I’d do if he didn’t want to come back.”

“Well that’s silly,” Gladys declares. “Steve, you couldn’t chase that man away if you tried. He looks at you like you hung the stars. You’re the sun he orbits around.”

This time, Steve’s smile lasts more than a moment, small as it is. “You’re starting to sound like him.”

“Good, then maybe you’ll listen to me. Mark my words, he’ll be back,” Gladys says.

Steve nods; he still looks uncertain, but Gladys figures she’s sure enough for the both of them. She’s seen the way they look at each other, the way the act around each other, now that she knows what to look for. They’re more than just smitten; there’s a sort of baked-in trust and understanding there that doesn’t come easily, and she doubts if it will be shaken by a single shouting match.

All the same, she lets Steve change the subject after that, following along as he relays some gossip about some of his classmates, and they keep talking until some time later, when Gladys’ doorbell rings for a second time that evening.

She and Steve exchange confused glances before Gladys gets up and moves to the hallway to answer the door. And there, looking just as worn and worried as Steve, is Eddie.

“Hey, Gladys,” he greets, lacking his usual charming grin. “I just wanted to ask if Steve had been by here at all? He wasn’t at the apartment and– uh…”

He trails off, his gaze snapping to the hallway behind Gladys, and she doesn’t have to turn around to know that Steve is standing there.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blurts. “For yelling. And for leaving. And for other stuff. But especially for leaving. I’m really, really sorry about that.”

Gladys shuffles a bit to the side, since she’s apparently been forgotten, anyway.

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, too. For yelling, and for other stuff that we should probably talk about.”

Eddie nods, biting down on the tiny, hopeful smile that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees quickly. “Let’s go home.”

Eddie’s hand twitches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out, but Steve goes to him anyway. Before he’s out the door, however, he pivots and turns to Gladys, wrapping her up in a quick hug.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“Any time, dear,” Gladys says, patting him on the back before he releases her. “I’ll still expect you both on Sunday.”

The boys exchange a quick glance.

“We’ll be here,” Steve says, and Eddie nods along.

“Neither wild horses nor our own stupidity could keep us away,” Eddie declares, and Steve snorts.

They walk close together as they head back to their own apartment, their knuckles occasionally bumping between them. Gladys hovers by the door just long enough to hear Steve as he tells Eddie, “So she knows everything.”

“I knew it,” Eddie hisses.

Gladys shuts her door with a laugh.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #I know the tags make this look very serious but it's pretty soft I promise

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shanastoryteller · 1 day

Note

Happy birthday! I would love some more rarepair dot/jack and miss fisher's murder mysteries. You write them amazingly 💚

Dot feels guilty for agreeing to go on this date. Her divorce from Hugh has only just been finalized, never mind that they’ve been living separately for the last year. She’s grateful it’s over with now – she doesn’t know how she would have felt if they’d been separated for longer than they’d been married under one roof, and that’s exactly what would have happened if everything had taken a couple more months.

It still feels too early, and it’s not like she’s ever dated before, Hugh having been her first relationship. But her neighbor Andrea had insisted that this would be good for her, and that her brother’s friend was perfect for her, and Dot is running low enough on friends that she hadn’t wanted to offend her and risk this new friendship collapsing in on itself.

She’d kept Jane and Mr. Butler, and Burt and Cec, of course, but all their other friends had landed firmly on Hugh’s side in everything, which she can’t even say is unfair, considering. But it is a little lonely. There’s a reason one of the first things she’d done was move back to Melbourne, toward the people who still liked her and away from everyone else. Her mother is appalled, but her priest is excited enough at having her back that he’s apparently willing to overlook the whole divorced bit.

She resists the urge to smooth back her hair again, wonders if she should have chosen a dress with a longer hem, but being a divorced woman provides so few benefits that it seems only fair that she take advantage of them.

“Dorothy?”

She looks up, breaking out into a smile at the familiar face. “Detective! How are you?” She gets to her feet, although she still has to crane her neck to look up at him. She forgot how tall he was. “You look well.”

“As do you, Miss Williams,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

She flushes. She never would have worn anything like this a few years ago, but lots of things were different then. Besides, Miss Fisher is always encouraging her to take risks in her letters. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” he says, lips pulled up on one side. On a second look, it seems like she can figure that out for herself. He doesn’t look old, really, but he does look tired, something weary about his eyes and shoulders that he didn’t have when she saw him last.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, cutting off whatever answer he would have grave.

The relief on his face makes her think she made the right decision. “I’m meeting someone, actually, although I’m not sure who. Andrea wouldn’t even give me her name.”

Dot blinks once, twice, then raises her hand to her mouth, heat crawling it’s way up her neck. “I’m going to kill her.”

It only takes Jack a second to catch on. “Ah. But,” his eyes flicker down to her hand, “I see.”

Hugh hadn’t told him, then. He’d called her Miss Williams, but that could have been habit more than anything else. Maybe they don’t talk. She assumed they did, but she’d assumed a lot of things.

Jack’s hesitating. If she lets him, he’ll make some sort of excuse and she won’t see him again unless she starts stalking crime scenes again.

“I’ll tell you the dirt details, if you like,” she offers, sitting back down looking expectantly to the chair across from her. He takes it, some of his hesitance bleeding away as he leans forward. “It’s not that exciting, I’m afraid.”

He smiles at her. He really is very handsome. “I bet I can guess.”

Dot raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“You outgrew him,” he says. “He was always struggling to keep up with you.��

It sounds so cruel put like that, but it’s also entirely correct. Hugh’s a good man and he’ll probably be a good husband – to someone else. To someone like she used to be, perhaps, but not at all for who she is now. “Well, I wish someone had told me that.”

“It didn’t seem appropriate,” he says, almost apologetic, and his eyes start to dip lower before guiltily jerking back up to her face.

“No,” she says, almost breathless. “I suppose not.”

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #solvblad #miss fisher's murder mysteries #mfmm #thank you for asking about my rarepair :) i'm so glad you like them!

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elsafromcabinsix · 13 hours

Text

that kind of love never dies | chapter one

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: the next chapter will be available tomorrow.

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

#iamjake #duskwood #moonvale #everbyte studio #jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #elsa writes 🥀

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galeorderbride · 2 days

Note

Intimacy Prompt: #43!

43: falling asleep with their head in your lap

Thank you sm for the prompt request!!

I like the idea of post game Professor!Gale when he first starts teaching. Maybe full of self doubt over whether he’s a good teacher, feeling frustrated that his pupils aren’t understanding concepts right away (mostly blaming himself). And Tav just comforting him at their home.

A shortie ft. Gale x tav (uses she/her pronouns but no physical descriptions). Fluffy cuteness, comfort and nothing more 😊

Rating: T

Count: 1337

…

Gale was always a man to pour over documents with immense detail, but tonight, he seemed to be studying the same page on repeat. Pen scratching against the paper to the point of tearing, the sound of him mumbling to himself. Gale usually took so much pleasure in hours of research, absorbed in the material, but not this time. He mumbled, perturbed by his own work as he’d scold himself under his breath.

For the first few hours, Tav left him to his work, knowing he wouldn’t feel better until he completed the task. Until he missed dinner, even when she called for him. No matter how much work he had to do, he’d made a habit of joining Tav at the table. She watched the clock tick, waiting for his steps down the stairs as the plate of chicken and vegetable stew grew colder. She should’ve checked on him already, but ever the people pleaser, she didn’t wish to bother him while in focus.

Finally, she got up from the table and took his bowl in hand, travelling up the narrow stairwell. If he didn’t come out to eat, she would go to him.

The wooden door was closed tight, but unlocked. Tav knocked a few times before entering, saying, “Gale, my love, are you alright? Your soup is getting cold. I know my cooking isn’t quite as good as yours, but it can’t be that scary.”

He replied through the door, voice muffled but obviously exhausted, “Sorry, Tav, would you mind putting it away for me and I can reheat it later? Forgive me, dear, I have more to do than I anticipated.”

Unsatisfied with his response, Tav sighed and entered his study. His back faced her, seated at his desk by a large window, fresh snow tapping against the glass as the evening turned to night. Candlelight illuminated piles of parchment around him, dotted with ink smudges and overlapping line edits. A mug of green tea sat on the end, untouched and cold. At the centre of it all was Gale, her loving fiance, slumped over the cherrywood surface with his head in his hands.

Tav approached him, standing behind his chair as she placed the bowl on the desk and brought her hands to his shoulders. Velveteen fabric softened against her touch, lowering herself down to kiss the crane of his neck. The tension in his muscles was palpable, yielding even to the lightest rub. His tired eyes met hers, nothing but tenderness in those dark, chestnut eyes in desperate need of nutrients.

“Gale, what’s wrong? You look as though you’ve just discovered the darkest secret of Nessus,” Tav asked.

“Perhaps I’d feel a little better if I did,” he said, voice husky from tiredness. “At least then I’d provide a bit of value somewhere.”

Tav looked over at his work, deciphering the multiple revisions to see he wasn’t doing research, he was strategizing classroom discussion. Private tutoring sessions, patterns of abbreviations for illusory spells, even planned workshops focusing on specific incantations. All the ideas were scratched out, or little comments written on them like ‘stupid’, ‘no’ and ‘absolutely not’.

“Are you doing lesson plans?” She asked, unable to conceal the confusion in her voice.

“Failing lesson plans,” he said. “My students aren’t responding well to my current teaching style. They aren’t understanding concepts, their spell performance is mediocre at best, and I can see their eyes glazing over when I give my lectures on the ethics of phantasmal casting.”

Riveting stuff, truly. His fixations on magical concepts that could get him going for hours if one wasn’t careful. Part of why Tav fell so deeply in love with him, rare to find such passion for subjects. She remembered nights at camp, taking peace in listening to his current fascination at the time. The only solace to such a deadly adventure. But perhaps a bunch of young apprentices weren’t as rose-coloured.

“Well, you’ve only just begun teaching, love. Maybe you just need to get to know your students a little more, see what they want to get out of the class before you write the next manual on workshopping,” Tav said.

“Perhaps I’m just not as good a teacher as I thought,” he said, voice lowering into a sombre tone as he sighed, throwing the quill pen across the desk.

Tav ran her hands from his shoulders up to the nape of his neck, beginning to play with his hair. She gave a cheeky grin,“Last time we talked about students, I recall you thinking it was all their fault for not understanding.”

He chuckled, “I blame you. Showing me love and humility. Now all I can do is think I’m the problem.”

“I’ll venture to feed your ego more,” she joked, “Come, let’s take a rest for a moment.”

Hand-in-hand, Gale followed her to their shared bedroom. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of balsam and mint enlivening the room from a scented candle on the mantle. Snow fell harder now, forming into a windy current that would surely become a blizzard by bedtime. A perfect environment for calming comfort, as Tav helped Gale remove his shirt, leaving him in nothing but lounge pants. After Tav put her own nightgown on, they crawled into bed.

Gale rested his head on Tav’s lap, tracing his fingertips across the bare skin of her legs. Meanwhile, her hands ran through his hair again, brushing through the fine strands of beautiful, brown hair speckled with streaks of grey. Tav nestled in the pleasant bliss of hearing his even breath, calming with every stroke across the side of his head. The beat of his heart against her skin, so gloriously alive. There was once a time when he was willing to let that human beat expire, and how far he’d come, now absorbed in her embrace, filled with endless love and compassion. Even if that meant there wasn’t much power. There was no need for it in a caring household like this.

Little kisses tickled the top of her thighs, mixed with the graze of his beard sending her into a sleepy comfort. She could play with his hair all night if he asked, such a simple, delicate pastime that reminded her of just how much she adored him.

“Hmm, if you keep doing that, I may just fall asleep, my love,” he said, voice already trailing. His words slowed every time he was fighting sleep, mind always on overdrive but his body couldn’t always keep up.

“Rest on me, Gale. I don’t mind,” she said, in a gentle whisper.

He adjusted his position, wrapping his arms around the leg he rested on as if her thigh was a teddy bear. Her other leg crossed over his bare back, their bodies tangled within each other. Tav hummed a light lullaby, her voice like medicine to Gale’s ears as all his stress washed away. All that remained was the sensation of smooth skin, her nurturing voice, and the peace of being enveloped in the embrace of his greatest, most cherished love.

As she sang, his eyes grew heavy, muscles loosening to the magic of her compassionate hands. That irresistible weightlessness began to overtake him, every thought of self doubt beginning to fade to a tiny smile. The lure of her song was so strong, she might’ve been one of the harpies they encountered back at the Emerald Grove. Their life had changed so much since then. His personal songstress caressing him in their queen sized bed, downy sheets and feather pillows as their shelter rather than tents and rocky ground.

“Tav…I love you,” he said, lulling slowly into a peaceful sleep. The tapping of snow against the window, the snap of flame, her voice, all sending him into a comforting slumber.

“I love you Gale Dekarios,” she said, moving a final piece of hair behind his ears before he fell into a deep sleep, making her laugh as he let out a small, adorable snore.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale x tav #baldurs gate 3 #gale bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 prompts #gale romance #galemance #gale x f!tav #bg3 fluff #gale dekarios fluff

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wroteclassicaly · 15 hours

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Girl. Gator. Plus size girl. Blurb. Go!

Lol. I just love the way you utilize details and I need this mans hands on me in the worst way rn. Lol. MAYBE somewhere where we could get caught😈

Oooooh, you’re speaking right to my soul 😭

~*~

Warnings: Language, smut, Gator acts like his jerky, bitchy, temper tantrum throwing, misogynistic, toxic self. Body positive, plus size reader with large breasts, hidden hookups, spit, some titty play, vaginal fingering, jealous and possessive Gator, slightly mean reader, degrading kink, praise kink mention, filthy talk, mean Gator, dominant reader/dominant Gator, public smut, getting caught, and NSFW.

Pairings: Gator Tillman x Plus Size Female Reader

Wordcount: 2,043

A/N: Really love working on exploring Gator with a bigger girlie, because in the Midwest, his options would’ve been a lot of big women. Sooooo, yeah. ;) Note that this is not some fluffy Gator. Man is gonna be mean and nasty as hell, so be warned (he’s cornered with his feelings and he doesn’t like that shit)!

~*~

He really cannot fucking believe this. You actually have the nerve to show up where you know that he will be, dressed like this, acting as if you didn’t want him to call you the second that you got back into town (Because WHEN the fuck did you get back? And why didn’t you call him?). A calloused trigger finger massaged off leftover condensation, nothing but mere drops of amber liquid left over in his glass. He feels like a snarling, raging beast, a fucking embarrassment.

And you simply tuck your handbag into your armpit, situating the end of a very tight black dress, one that slices into a cutoff at your cleavage, the swells of your goods leaving little to the imagination. Stupid bitch. Those are his tits. Besides, since when do you care about what you wear out when you rarely come to bars or club joints around town, anyways…? Your makeup is dark, like wafts of smoke, shimmering on your lid, lips lined a deep blood red, something else you never do around him, either.

Okay, so he’s not good enough to try all of your tricks on?

He’s got that familiar clench starting in his toes, licking his muscles with electricity, pushing on his ribcage, digging painfully into his internal organs to do something. You wave at a couple of local girls, but you don’t join them at a table, no. You head directly to some punk faced fuck in tight jeans and cowboy boots, a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other. Gator’s eyes widen so hard that the muscles protest in stroking stings, his fist clenching over his thigh, knuckles white, taunt flesh wrapped shakily around his glass. He lets it go before it shatters.

A date. A fucking, motherfucking date.

You couldn’t call him, didn’t text him (embarrassing how much he refreshed your thread, honestly), but you bitch about secrecy. And this is what he gets for staying sober from the pussy he could be getting? Nah, he’s not gonna be shown up by some slut that should be grateful he gives her attention at all, and definitely not with this fucking pencil dick of a man, whose joke you’re pathetically giggling at. Abandoning his glass, Gator is walking his way on a sticky bar floor, passing your backside to slam his hands on your table and let out a hysterical chuckle.

“Well, bust my balls. What’s so funny over here, huh?”

Gator takes a mental backflip for points as your eyes widen and you look like you’ve dove into the pools of humiliation. Your date, for lack of better word - he’s trying to figure out what’s going on, but Gator doesn’t let him get in a word. Crowding in front of his space, he’s in your airspace now, reaching down to find your date’s drink, lips wrapping at the bottle’s end as he sips and lets out a snort. “Lightweight.”

“Gator…” You warn, reaching out to attempt to grab his wrist. He shrugs you off, shaking his head as he eyes your ensemble, those fucking tits pressed together and spilling over your cleavage’s hem.

“Look at you, honey. All dressed up, not answering your phone. How long you been back for?”

“I’m busy, back the fuck off —“ He’s suddenly very close to you now, nose nearly brushing, actually letting his personal rules slip, your own emotions becoming discombobulated.

You don’t back away, breathing escalating as his hot breath fans along your painted mouth. He’d like to shut that up, keep you full. And you, you cannot keep your eyes off of his tight black shirt, arms bare and tan from the Midwest summer sun — freckles and moles on display. He’s wearing dark jeans, his normal boots, and thigh holster for show. Fuck, he smells good. He knows it too, as he watches your eyes dart across his wet lips.

He simply smirks, reaches down for your drink this time, and brings it to his lips. Straight whiskey. You were here for a purpose, and it’s up to him to redirect it. You watch in wondrous fascination when he drinks down your remaining liquor in a straight shot, his tongue making a show to lick the rim along the glass, before he lets it settle back onto the cheap bar table coaster. He’s taking that air about, every single inch of him away from you before you can blink, one hand rubbing behind his neck, pulling on his chain that’s tucked beneath his collar, knowing the action specifically drives you crazy, the other hand retrieving his vape.

He blows smoke directly above his head, looking between you and Mr. Clueless Cowboy, laughing lightly. He’s pissing you off. “Hope you folks intend to call a car tonight. I’d hate to have to arrest anyone for driving under the influence.”

And he’s gone. Leaving you practically smoking, aching, hurt, and severely pissed. You grab your purse and excuse yourself to the restroom to get your bearings. You should’ve known, however, the second that the door closes behind you — Gator would be too. He doesn’t approach too fast, doesn’t scare you or grab you, he has his own lines not to cross, to respect.

You’re clenching the sink by the time he’s nearly behind you. You’re tired, pent up, but you still manage to speak. “Don’t. I’m getting sick of you and your games.”

“Is that why you didn’t answer me? Think that’s polite —“

You spin around and level your palms to his chest, shoving him back, hard. “You know, I’m the one that should be embarrassed. Your fucking dad, you being his lackey. I should be the one to be afraid to be seen with you, but I’m not.”

Gator perks at the mention of Roy, of his debt towards him just by being born under his namesake. He feels cornered, losing control. “Watch your mouth. I’m not afraid of anything —“

As if you are ignoring his words, you continue. “I want a real man, not some pussy who is afraid to be seen in public with me. You’re a fucking coward, Tillman. You don’t deserve one single inch of me, and I’ve got plenty to go around, baby.”

Now, Gator can lie and say he is further pissed, that he intends to leave and forget you. But your words, how you stand up to him — his cock kicks, slacks becoming less loose. You’ve got the power and you’re more than ready to use it. Leaving your purse in the sink behind you, you stand a few inches from his airspace, your perfume soaking into his senses, making his jaw unhinged with sinful babble. “I bet you’re fuckin’ wet right now.”

You shrug, crossing your arms to purposely accentuate your chest. “Just because I like looking at you, doesn’t mean that I like listening to your mouth run. Pompous, annoying, disgustingly pathetic. And I can’t stand you.”

His brows press together, his pupils blown so far to hell that he’s seething when the words leave his clenched teeth. “One more word, bitch…”

You lick your mouth and smile lowly, tongue practically caressing the words as they drop off. “Fuck. You.”

What happens next is a dizzying array of blurs. The open pipes and exposed beams - clad ceiling passes in your vision as you meet Gator into a chest crushing embrace, pulling when he pushes, the both of you falling onto a stall with your mouths locked. You’re already working your hands into his belt, a grip hard to maintain with how worked up he is. Gator knows just what to do with you, his own hands immediately ripping the fabric of your dress down to expose your perfect breasts. His mouth waters, his hands paused.

He gives you a look, but you’ve already got his hands closing around your tits, encouraging him to squeeze. His knees knock you into the toilet, his mouth smeared with red kisses. His jaw clenches, nose wrinkles, his eyes glazed over as he lets them roam you, palming you, sampling you. You’re his. He needs more, though, his body rampaged, starved for more you.

You can read those thoughts immediately, the same want, a silent communication. “Put your mouth on me.”

He doesn’t waste a second, head tilting, letting you tug it into shambled strands, his lips close over your bud, tongue lapping around your areola, only to give you what you after you start to beg him for teasing. He isn’t phased that you aren’t jerking him, all that he wants right now is get you off, be with you, be around you. He tries to ignore what that realization means, and luckily, you’re rucking your own dress around your waist, his orbs catching a slinky thong as you work it down your curved hips. He briefly stops what he’s doing, groaning in appreciation as your glistening curls are put on display and your beautiful stomach, with stretch marks that his tongue has traced not enough times yet. He’ll have to fix that.

You’re a little quieter after you’re so naked in front of you, despite having been before. He notices this and abandons his focus on your chest to grab you around the waist. His voice is hoarse, exploding into a molten rasp, coated in the warmth of tension, a vulnerability leaving as he pinches your chin to raise your gaze. “You’re too beautiful for him. Too beautiful for me.”

Your reluctance to accept any compliments, especially his, that is automatically clear when you make your statement. “You could’ve gotten plenty pussy with me gone, Gator.”

He’s never felt more like a piece of shit than in this moment, watching as you truly believe that. He inhales sharply, throat tied to it, escaping words evaporating off his tongue’s tip, shared with you. “I missed you,” It’s actually a freeing statement, one that he feels braver saying, continuing. “And I didn’t screw around on you, y’ know.”

You’re looking at him as if you’re made of glass, irises darting back and forth. He can’t decipher his anticipations, but you save him. “I missed you too. But I had to draw a line, Gator…”

“I know.” He’s resolved to it.

He’s ready to back off, praying it’s not too late. You grasp his wrist, lifting it directly beneath your mouth, and he’s sure he blurts a little in his boxers the moment that your spit settles into his palm. He’s cursing, panting, rocking onto his heels as you lead him between your legs, spreading them, separating two of his fingers, taking them into your warm cunt. His hand tightens on your overflowing waist, fingers instinctively beginning to fuck you, enjoying the devious squelch that echoes. You become more handsy as the minutes pass, eagerly seeking out his chain from his collar to hold onto, rocking against his wrist, bouncing yourself on his fingers — taking what you want.

Gator assists by leaning to lick your nipple into his mouth, letting you hold tightly to his hair, suffocated by your moans and the scent of you. Neither of you hear your date enter the bathroom, not until he’s by the stall and speaking. He doesn’t get the hint, maybe he’ll go away? You don’t want to stop and reject the idea of Gator taking his hand away, leaving his hair, and holding onto his wrist tighter. You give zero fucks if he can hear what you’re doing in here, but he probably thinks Gator makes fun of you —

Your insecurities are tangled into a trap the second that Gator kicks the door open with his boot to give your date an eyeful. Publicly. His eyes widen, posture stiffening, you gasping. Gator adds in a third finger and your legs wobble, making you toss your head back and fuck yourself harder, inner thighs a soaking mess, forgetting everything but the pleasure that you deserve. Your ears are ringing static, a creamy wetness all that can be heard beneath your pleading breaths, uncaring what’s going to happen after, needing to get there NOW.

Gator makes his claim, a lazy little smirk quirking in the corners of his stained mouth. “Be safe on the road, bud.”

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merriclo · 17 hours

Text

a lot of people found it really helpful the last time i provided some context for LU Legend’s games (this post!!), so i’m gonna do that again!! this time specifically about A Link Between Worlds. if you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask, and i will answer to the best of my ability! please keep in mind that i am only speaking on the english translation <3

also, i will only refer to this game’s Link as Link instead of Legend. while i’m writing this primarily to help the Linked Universe fandom, these details are only from the canonical game and can be applied to any interpretation of this game’s Link. it is not exclusive to Linked Universe whatsoever!!!!!

anyhow, in this game, Link has a family: the blacksmiths. while never overtly stated, it is so heavily implied that assuming the author’s intent is a relatively safe course of action.

for those unaware, the Blacksmith family includes three people: the unnamed blacksmith, his unnamed wife, and their little boy Gulley. also, prior to the start of A Link Between Worlds, Link worked as an apprentice at the forge!!

the Blacksmith is pretty tough on Link throughout the beginning of the game, berating him for oversleeping and not working hard enough to become a proper Blacksmith. this seems relatively mean at first, but then it becomes clear that he really just wants the best for Link. he’s a very successful man who wants Link to be just as prosperous. later on, there’s a really nice moment between the two after Link rescues Gulley (who was kidnapped by the game’s main villain, Yuga) where the Blacksmith says “I’m real proud of how you’re shaping up here, Link.” it’s a brief, heartwarming exchange between the two, and it really highlights their relationship dynamic.

his wife, on the other hand, is much more overtly caring towards our hero. in the description of Link’s green tunic, it’s said that the wife is the one who sewed it for him. more than that, she’s also the one who made the adventure pouches for Link’s belt, telling him “I made it for you so you could carry more items…. But please—you should use that pouch so I won’t have to worry about YOU quite as much!” once he receives them. she’s a very kind and caring figure in his life, who often takes time out of her day just to help Link out and make sure he’s okay.

Gulley is arguably the closest to Link out of all of them. For starters, A Link Between Worlds opens with Gulley waking Link up from a prophetic dream and mentioning that Link oversleeps too much, meaning that (a) Gulley has the key to Link’s home, and (b) this happens often. Gulley was also said to have insisted on being the one to give Link the adventure pouches his mom made! the entire reason Link originally goes on his hero’s journey is to save the boy after he was kidnapped, and when Link passes out and ends up in the middle of the road in Lorule, he’s said to have been mumbling Gulley’s name over and over again (furthermore, it was the blacksmith family’s Lorulian counterparts that had found and saved Link when he passed out.)

i don’t think Link is genetically related to the blacksmiths, even though they do share similar hair and eye colors. if that were the case, they’d simply be labeled as Mom as Dad. my interpretation of it is that Link is unofficially adopted :)

tl;dr: the Link in A Link Between Worlds isn’t alone. he has a family that loves and cares for him deeply. and this post doesn’t even include the countless close friends he made in ALBW alone. please guys acknowledge them im begging you

as always, i’m not saying that you have to take this post as gospel or even be influenced by it at all. i just want to open up new avenues to explore these characters through for people without access to the games <3

#i totally understand and respect wanting Legend to be siblings with Fable but like. Gulley is Right Fucking There #that being said i think the three of them as a sibling duo would be beautiful #Gulley and his adopted cringefail brother and his brother’s sister who is actual royalty #anyhow i love albw link he has so much personality. he really is his own little goober #linked universe #lu #lu legend #legend lu #legend linked universe #linked universe legend #a link between worlds #albw

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konnosaurus · 1 day

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heheheh :3 it's emily and ashimaaaaa!

after mentioning that i think these two would be quite sweet on my pride month headcanon drawing, i realised that i needed to draw them and give a few of my thoughts! (especially as @togetherness23 seemed intrigued by the concept in their lovely tags (sorry about the @ i just thought you might like this hehe))

my hand hurts from drawing all the little details on both of them hehe, it was sooo hard to make them look nice but i'm p happy with how they turned out!

i've got a little analysis/ramble under the cut if anybody wants to read my thoughts :3

okay so.. emily x ashima.

first of all, i think it is just nice to give emily a load of girlies for her romances, she is such a fascinating character and i think that her almost.. stubborn?? nature? i'm not quite sure whether that is the word i mean, but she has strong feelings, strong opinions and a strong personality. she doesn't pull her punches and if she wants to do something she will find a way to do it.

i feel this makes her interactions with potential romantic partners veeery interesting. she falls hard and fast- there isn't any doubt once she likes someone, she knows it very quickly and decides whether to persue or not. i think this shows up in best engine ever, where she decides that caitlin is cool and funky almost instantly, talks about how wonderful she is to all her friends, and the next time she sees her makes a big declaration (well, a big rescue, but it plays the same).

there are a few parallels between emily meeting ashima and emily in her first interactions with caitlin in best engine ever, and this sort of overlap is what made me first consider this potential pairing. well, that and how funny i think it is that ashima and caitlin have very similar base deep and bright pink colours, and if you add new rosie and her dark pink (i think it is more of a dark pink than red oop) then one can have emily and her collection of pink-adjacent women and that is fun. now we just need to paint mavis pink to add to the collection...

anyway! back to the parallels.

i'm putting this one up first even though i think the second parallel is stronger. in the scene from the great race, emily is clearly being positive when she says 'you know, the painted one from India.' she clearly thinks highly of ashima's looks, and this comes up again when she is surprised that ashima wasn't in the best decorated engine competition. she clearly thinks she is pretty, and in the scene from best engine ever she also talks about how she thinks caitlin 'looks amazing'. emily clearly likes looking at these two hehehe.

and my personal favourite, emily and her instant praise for those that she likes. even though in the great race she is speaking about ashima and in best engine ever she is speaking to caitlin, both statements are so nice and show emily and her positivity towards those that she likes. i think that the instant desire to compliment everyone is part of emily's hard-fast romance routine.

another interesting thing is that in the great race, ashima has barely been on sodor for any time at all and emily has already spoken to her enough to remember her name, origin AND come up with enough of an opinion about her to think she is great. and that is just neat!

#konnodoodle #konnoponders #art #ttte #ttte art #ttte fanart #thomas and friends #ttte emily #ttte ashima #ttte caitlin

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theodorenmyth · 3 hours

Note

Reader who has a stuff animal that they like to call their “son” 😭 like mattheo got it for them during a holiday is like “so am I the father?”

Holiday Surprise

Pairings : Mattheo Riddle x GN! Reader

Summary : Spending the holiday season with Mattheo Riddle, you’re thrilled when he surprises you with a stuffed owl named Owliver, who you affectionately call your "son." Mattheo’s playful question about being the father leads to heartfelt moments as you both explore the idea of being a whimsical little family, deepening your bond and envisioning a future together filled with love and laughter.

A/n : I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH!! Someone spend their Christmas with me pls (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

Warnings) : tooth rotting fluff

Word count : 1.5k+

You’ve always loved the holiday season. The crisp air, the vibrant decorations, and the spirit of giving have always brought warmth to your heart. This year, however, held a special kind of excitement. You were spending the holidays with Mattheo Riddle, a relationship that had blossomed with unexpected intensity and depth.

The snow was falling gently outside, painting the world in a serene blanket of white. Inside, the fire crackled merrily, casting a warm glow across the room. You were curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over you, as you waited for Mattheo to return from his mysterious errand.

Mattheo had been acting secretive all week, hinting at a surprise but refusing to give any details. His mischievous grin and sparkling eyes only added to your anticipation.

Finally, the door creaked open, and Mattheo stepped inside, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He carried a large, gift-wrapped box in his hands.

“Hey there,” he greeted, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, sitting up and tucking your feet under you. “What’s that?”

“This,” he said, setting the box down in front of you, “is your surprise.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Open it and see.”

With eager fingers, you tore away the wrapping paper, revealing a plain cardboard box. You glanced at Mattheo, who nodded encouragingly. Lifting the lid, you gasped. Inside was the most adorable stuffed animal you had ever seen. It was a plush, chubby owl with wide, innocent eyes and soft, downy feathers.

“Oh my goodness!” you exclaimed, pulling the stuffed animal from the box and hugging it to your chest. “It’s so cute!”

Mattheo’s smile widened. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it!” you said, beaming at him. “Thank you, Mattheo.”

He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re welcome. I thought you could use a little companion for when I’m not around.”

You squeezed the owl tighter, feeling a rush of affection for the thoughtful gift and the man who had given it to you. “I’m going to call him… Owliver,” you declared.

“Owliver, huh?” Mattheo chuckled. “I like it.”

You nodded, holding Owliver up to inspect him. “He’s perfect. And you know what? I’m going to call him my son.”

Mattheo’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your son?”

“Yep,” you said, grinning. “Owliver is my son now.”

“Well,” Mattheo said, leaning back and crossing his arms, “does that make me the father?”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his question. Then, a mischievous smile spread across your face. “I suppose it does.”

Mattheo’s gaze softened, and he leaned in closer. “In that case,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone, “we’re quite the little family, aren’t we?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The idea of being a family, even in this playful, whimsical sense, filled you with a warmth and happiness you hadn’t expected.

“I guess we are,” you said softly.

Mattheo’s eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you and your newfound ‘son.’

He reached out and took your hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. “I like the sound of that,” he said quietly. “A lot.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling with affection. “Me too.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blissful haze. You and Mattheo settled back onto the couch, Owliver perched on your lap as you talked and laughed, sharing stories and dreams. The fire crackled softly in the background, adding to the cozy, intimate atmosphere.

At some point, Mattheo slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. It was a simple, perfect moment, one that you knew you would cherish forever.

“You know,” Mattheo said after a while, his voice a soft rumble, “I’ve never really thought about having a family before. But with you… it feels right.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You lifted your head to look at him, your eyes searching his. “Really?"

He nodded, his expression earnest. “Yeah. Really.”

A smile spread across your face, and you leaned up to kiss him gently. “I feel the same way, Mattheo.”

His eyes shone with warmth and love as he kissed you back, a tender, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and future dreams.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves dozing off, wrapped in each other’s arms. Owliver sat nearby, a silent witness to the start of something beautiful and profound.

The holidays had always been special to you, but this year, they had taken on a new meaning. With Mattheo by your side and Owliver in your arms, you felt a sense of completeness and joy that you had never known before.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that this was just the beginning of your wonderful, whimsical little family.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The next morning, you woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. Mattheo was still asleep beside you, his arm draped over your waist. You carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, not wanting to wake him, and tiptoed to the kitchen to make breakfast.

As you cooked, you couldn’t help but glance back at the living room where Mattheo and Owliver were. The sight filled you with a profound sense of contentment. You hummed a cheerful tune as you worked, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filling the air.

A few minutes later, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You leaned back into Mattheo’s embrace, smiling.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “Sleep well?”

“Better than ever,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. He glanced at the stove. “You’re making breakfast?”

“I thought I’d surprise you for a change,” you said with a grin.

He chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I could get used to this.”

“Me too,” you admitted, feeling a warm glow spread through you. “Now, go sit down. Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

Mattheo kissed your neck before reluctantly letting go and heading to the table. You finished up quickly and joined him, setting down plates of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

“This looks amazing,” Mattheo said, his eyes widening in appreciation.

“Thank you,” you said, sitting down across from him. “I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

As you ate, you talked about your plans for the day. The holiday markets were in full swing, and you both decided to go explore them after breakfast. The thought of strolling through the festive stalls, hand in hand with Mattheo, filled you with excitement.

After breakfast, you bundled up in warm clothes and set out into the crisp winter air. The streets were bustling with people, all eager to soak in the holiday spirit. You and Mattheo wandered through the market, admiring the handcrafted ornaments, sampling delicious treats, and laughing together.

At one stall, Mattheo bought you a beautiful snow globe with a miniature winter scene inside. “For our little family,” he said with a wink.

You smiled, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Mattheo. It’s perfect.”

As the day went on, you found yourself growing more and more comfortable with the idea of this little family you were creating. It was playful and lighthearted, but it also felt incredibly real and meaningful.

Later that evening, as you sat by the fire once again, you couldn’t help but bring up the topic that had been on your mind all day.

“Mattheo,” you began, your voice hesitant. “Do you think… do you think this could really be something?”

He looked at you, his eyes serious and thoughtful. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “Us. Owliver. Our little family. Do you think it could be real?”

Mattheo reached out and took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “I do,” he said softly. “One day we will have our own little family together, I promise.”

You felt a surge of emotion at his words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I know it might sound silly, but I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never wanted this with anyone else.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart full. “Me neither.”

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that conveyed all the feelings you couldn’t put into words. When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling.

“I love you, Mattheo,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “More than I ever thought possible.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blissful haze. You talked about your dreams for the future, about the places you wanted to go and the things you wanted to do. With Owliver between you, you made plans for holidays to come, imagining a life filled with love, laughter, and countless adventures.

And as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in Mattheo's arms, you couldn’t help but think that this was just the beginning of your wonderful, whimsical little family.

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misty--nights · 13 hours

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It’s time for episode 6. I always start these thinking I won’t find much and it’ll be a short one, and then I’ll just keep finding details and the posts get pretty long

The recap editing strikes again. Immediately after Edwin tells Monty “I wasn’t talking about you” we get a shot of his hug with Charles

There are some colorful glasses up on the division between the spaces of Niko’s room (I don’t know the name of that thing) and I can just imagine Niko asking Jenny for a ladder to put them up there. Also there is a blue butterfly glued above her closet door

The sign with the name of Tragic Mick’s shop has a little fish jumping over it, which is really cute

When they first arrive at the shop and are talking with Mick, there is a figure on one of the shelves that kind of looks like a polar bear with a red dress

Niko’s card is pink and has like a cute bunny thing decoration. All of her things are adorable, I love her

It’s really funny just how terrible at lying all of these kids are. They are almost implausibly bad at it, and it’s always hilarious how the others just shrug and go with it

Speaking of, Monty flipping his hair and putting on a dramatic tone to tell them that his good friend has a problem is just peak. This boy is amazing, and his lying abilities fit right in with al the others (to his credit, none of the main kids realized he was a crow before the Cat King reveals the truth, so I guess it’s working for him)

The names for their potential cases are hilarious: Phantom Yodeler, Undead Milkman, Doppelganger Gang, Sentient Pants, Restless Piano Syndrome. (Can’t really make out what the last 2 say, but I can make out the words Cricket Wicket in one, and Gargoyle in the other)

Edwin has a little smile after Niko tells him he looks nice <3

I just realized that the reason Crystal’s attempt at pretending to read the tree is so bad is because she cannot tell that her eyes go white every time she uses her powers

Monty is immediately concerned when Charles says the elemental consumes ghosts. I love how clearly you can see the different emotions on his face, how you can tell the instant he starts to have second thoughts about this plan, even if he is still going to go through with it for revenge (for a little while at least)

Edwin’s science glasses are just for the drama/aesthetic, right? All of the others are standing right there by him without any glasses, so it’s not like they are for protection. Also you have to love the fact that he passes Charles the vial to throw it even though I’m sure it would have been the same if Edwin himself had done it? Charles doesn’t throw it too far, so it’s not like it required a lot of strength or anything. It’s just the way they do things, I guess. Edwin creates the potions, Charles throws them. Brains and brawn

I could be wrong, but I think that when the Night Nurse and Kashi are talking you can hear Angie’s heartbeat in the background

After Charles breaks all of David’s mirrors, the ground of Crystal’s mind place is full of glass (I think it wasn’t before, but my memory isn’t great so I could be wrong about this one too)

I’ve been thinking about since the episode 1 rewatch, but I think it’s interesting that none of the kids (minus Niko) made the connection between Monty the boy and Monty the witches familiar, given the way Esther yells Monty’s name after that first confrontation when they rescued Becky Aspen. I know it’s a wild connection to make, but Monty isn’t that common of a name, and they all were very much there when she yelled “Monty, shut up” at the screaming crow inside of her house. I don’t know, I think it could have been funny for Charles to fixate on Edwin’s new pal having the same name as Esther’s crow, and then for the others to dismiss it as jealousy. It would be hilarious, and it’d give Charles a chance to be all “I told you so” after the reveal

All of the chairs around the table by Crystal’s tree are a little different

Petition to make Crystal part of the Brawn team in the agency, because the way she fights Esther is vicious. She should get to beat the shit out of more enemies next season

Charles sounds like he’s been crying right after Crystal rescues the two of them. His voice is all watery and broken even though he’s smiling

One of Niko’s cushions on her windowsill has an octopus on it

Ghosts don’t have reflections, but they do have shadows. I guess shadows would be harder to remove irl? I noticed the shadows during the scene where they’re thinking of a name for Crystal’s move

The Night Nurse says she’s been working at that post for over two million hours, which means (according to google) that she’s been at the Lost and Found department for almost 230 years. No wonder she’s so done with everyone’s bullshit. Imagine working the same shitty job for over 200 years

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #monty finch #monty the crow #charles rowland #niko sasaki #crystal palace #jenny green #tragic mick #esther finch #the night nurse #kashi #david the demon #my writing

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