#I promise that man does not believe in a single word he ever says not even his order at McDonald’s
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— 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…
(or, in other words, promises of their dedication to you.)
✦ featuring: childe, kaeya, xiao, zhongli, kazuha.
✦ warnings: none, just the smallest smidgens of angst in some places.
✦ notes: so, this is a really old work i posted on my first blog that i'm proud of sjhhjs i found it a while ago and decided to rework it a little!! (i haven't changed too much of the original though, just tweaked some sentences and added and subtracted.)
…i’d pull hell and heaven to their knees at your feet, and i’d kneel alongside them (if I could. oh, if only i could).
childe wants to give you the world and more.
he’s almost reverent in his devotion to those he loves, seeking to please beyond all else, and what he holds toward you is no different. at merely a blink of your eyes, he’d bring you the sun and the stars, weave moonlight into fabric and find a chunk of the most beautiful emerald you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he does it all with a wink and a smile and a ‘you need only ask, dear,’
and it is true, you need only ask for him to lay out the world for you.
but alas, there is only so much fate will allow him to do. his heart and soul may rest in your palms, but he is duty bound to the tsaritsa.
ajax can promise you everything in the world, just not himself.
he cannot promise you himself in his entirety, he cannot promise you an ajax without his secrets, without an always existing barrier in between you.
no matter how desperately he wants to.
…i’d stand bare in your light, arms asunder, abandoning my secrets and shedding the shadows i once called home.
kaeya alberich fears trust.
he’s scared of what it could lead to, what it could do to him, what it has done to him. he’s a man who lives under a cloak of secrets and inside a cocoon of fear and mysteries, and for him to allow himself to expose everything he hides is no small feat.
but it is the surest mark of his trust in you, that some hopeful part of him believes that you’ll stay against all odds.
he thinks you shouldn’t, though, that it’ll cause you more harm than good— he won’t let himself want you. but you’ll know he is truly yours when he hesitates no longer to tell you the deepest desires of his heart, to bare his whole soul and lay it before your eyes.
patience, and you'll find him the most beautiful butterfly of them all.
…i’d cross the deepest of chasms, weather the harshest of storms, and brave the most treacherous of paths to return to your arms.
not a soul can say that adeptus alatus has no home to go back to. (and if they did, how utterly wrong they’d be.)
his home is the warmth of your embrace, the love in every gentle caress, and the soft cadence of your voice. it's the smile in your eyes, and the spring in your step, and the softness of your heart. he’d call it almost dream-like, but xiao knows what dreams are like, far better than anyone. he also knows that every dream— no matter how intense, no matter how vivid— always disappears.
but you’re still here, day after day,
does that not mean you’re as real as the air he breathes and the sun that sets over liyue?
xiao’s loyalty is hard won, but it is steadfast. he cannot promise that he’ll live forever, nor can he promise you happiness every single minute of the day. but what he can promise you, is that at the end of the day, he’ll fight his hardest to return to you, no matter how far away he might be.
…i’d etch your memory— from the most mellifluous laugh to every tiny victory— onto my very soul, so that not even the flow of time can wash it away.
morax has prospered for centuries.
he’s witnessed dynasties fall to dust; paupers rise to prominence. he’s come across many he was fond of and cherishes the memory of everyone he has ever cared for.
he’s also aware that forgetting some people in the vast expanse time is inevitable. the withering of the blooms of thought spare none, not even a god, and the tree of the psyche grows ancient. after all, even the mind is not permanent in a world of transience, is it?
but zhongli would be damned if he ever let you fade.
his promise, no, his contract— one he made to himself the day the realization that you'd one day no longer be by his side fully set in— is to preserve even the last wisps that linger, encasing the thought of you in shimmering gold, so that after you are long gone, you’ll live on as part of his soul.
…i’d whisper the softest of tales into the night breeze, tales of you and i, so that even when we’re long gone, the wind will carry our stories for aeons to come.
kazuha is no stranger to the whispers of the wind.
he’s intimately familiar with them, a rare blessing he knows he is lucky to have. but his most divine blessing is the privilege of being part of a story with you. life is short, unpredictable; one never knows what their fate might be, but he's beyond glad that this part of his destiny has you.
he has no desire to be a legend, and he knows you don’t either. but he is sentimental in the regard that he wants the whispers of the two of you to stick around. he’s lost so much, and reciting stories of the two of you is his way of preservation, for nothing spoken into the wind vanishes.
the world knows only a fraction of this wanderer, but he hopes that if they remember anything about him, they remember how much he loved you.
#—🖋#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin x you#kaeya x reader#kaeya x you#childe x reader#childe x you#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia x you#kazuha x reader#kazuha x you#kaedehara kazuha x reader#zhongli x reader#zhongli x you#xiao x reader#xiao x youi
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The edge of Wriothesley’s desk digs into the small of your back, the hard wood undoubtedly leaving an indent in your skin from how you’ve leaned on it. Any other time you’d frown and huff, but it was difficult to properly gripe about it right now.
“Your grace.”
“Yes?” The Duke murmurs damn near right into your ear, almost low enough to be a purr. With how close he is —how his face hovers over your and his hands rest on either side of your waist, bracketing you in— you can almost hear the rumble of the word come straight from his chest.
You can leave this proximity easily— you know this, and so does he. But for some outlandish reason, you find yourself inclined to rest here, surrounded by him, the desk at your back be damned.
“Your grace,” you try again, voice soft to match his. “What are you doing?”
It’s odd to see the normally eloquent man, who never stutters in his words or backtrack in his thoughts, to be so quieted— almost struggling with finding the right words.
“I don’t know,” Wriothesley settles on finally, a furrow in his brow. “I… don’t know. Something I should have done sooner, probably. This… thing between us has been driving me mad. I feel like I’d regret it if I hesitated any longer, you know?”
And oh, you do. The unspoken tension that hangs in the air when it’s just you two in his office, when you have lunch, or spend time together— you feel like it’s been clogging your airways and making it hard to breath. Each day with you both toeing the line of the meaning of all those longing glances and soft smiles had been wearing on you. What a relief to know that you’re not alone in your struggles.
You hum, leaning forward just enough so your nose brushes his. With a thrill in your stomach, you don’t miss how he swallows heavily, how he blushes just the tiniest bit.
“If you’ve grown tired of our song and dance, then pray tell— what do you want to do instead?”
“Whatever you want,” is his immediate answer. There’s a growing confidence in his eyes, a hope that flickers brighter and brighter with each second you let him be near you like this. “Whatever you’re willing to give me. Whether that be just a single kiss and nothing more, or being able to wake up beside you and kiss you good morning until you get sick of me.” Then he swallows, his words coming out slower. “But if you push me away and you say none of this meant anything, that’s fine too. Like I said— whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take without complaint.” But I really, really hope that you don’t choose that last one. I think my heart would actually break.
You can see how Wriothesley grows more tense with each second of your silence. He tries to cover it up well, but you know his tells. He glances away, the flush on his cheeks traveling up to the tips of his ears, making him look cuter than you ever thought was possible.
A soft hand on his cheek is all it takes to snap his attention back to you.
“Morning kisses don’t sound too bad,” you tell him slowly, wanting him to hear every word. You think you can feel your heart in your throat. “Though I have to ask: is breakfast gonna be included in this deal? Because a hard ‘no’ to that is an absolute dealbreaker for me.”
And when Wriothesley grins, when he has to fight the laugh that begs to be let loose from his chest and the minute tremble that rakes through his whole body, you think you’ve never seen him more radiant. You wish to see that kind of softness on him every single day. Oh, you’re so damn smitten with his man.
“You’re gonna have to settle with my shitty cooking, but I can at least promise that I’ll try.” The look in his eyes is gooey and warm and sweet— the flavor of melted chocolate and honey.
You wrap your arms around his neck, slinging them over his shoulders, and rewardingly scratching the nape of his neck when his arms come to wrap around and press you to his chest in turn. “Sounds delightful,” you say, and his heart does a flip in his chest. Can scarcely believe that this is real.
“Can I kiss you? Please?” He asks softly. “I’ve been wanting to do it for the longest time.”
You hum, looking at him from beneath your lashes. “Go right ahead, your grace.”
His thumb presses gently against the plush of your bottom lip, the edges of his restraint visibly fraying. “My name, please. If I’m going to kiss you, I’d rather have my name on your lips, not my title.”
“Wriothesley, I’m waiting for that kiss.”
You have just a split second to register the absolutely lovesick look on his face at the sound of you saying his name, the way he melts and shakes against you. How he looks at you so softly it almost makes you choke up. Wriothesley presses his lips against yours, painstakingly gentle as he moves against you, in a kiss much too long overdue— the first in a series of many that he’s all too happy to give you.
#astronetwrk#「 🐈⬛ 」 catcze.desserts#wriothesley x reader#genshin impact x reader#cw gn reader#genshin impact#wriothesley#no taglist rn because I’m doing this on mobile oops
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Promises
He should know better.
Wolfwood has seen Vash make promises, or hear about the ones he has made in the past. He has also seen the end of each one and how every single time the outcome is less than what was promised.
Vash likes to say embellished words, with a soft and determined voice that lures you into his hopes and dreams, it almost feels like a spell, as if he was calling for you to come closer and believe him. But Wolfwood knows better.
He believes in him, but Vash is much closer to being an idealistic dreamer than a realistic person like he is. He might not be aware of it, but his beautiful promises of a better future give people hope, a hope that is usually embraced with things like disappointment and abandonment.
He doesn’t think that Vash does it with the intent of looking for any of those things. Far from it, he might even do the impossible in order to accomplish said promises, but life is too short and humans are too mortal for his wishes, so in the end, most of Vash’s promises end up being empty or they come to haunt him as a reminder of his failed vows. He admires the man, for his perseverance and idealism, but he also hates the man, for his stubbornness and lies.
Wolfwood knows all of this perfectly to a tee. And yet, he has also found himself being drawn to his world. Because he also dreams of it.
A world in where his always present calls for love and peace exist, a world that is far more kind than what he might deserve, a world in where the kids can be happy and roam around without any worry in their heads, a world in where he can peacefully turn grey with age and his hands can shed the harsh callouses of his life. Who knows, maybe a world in where he and Vash can finally know the peace that was taken away from them, in where they can share the calmness that comes with the passage of time, indulging in every tick of the clock welcoming with open arms whatever comes their way without any fear.
It is a beautiful promise. But Wolfwood is a person that has to keep his feet on the ground, indulging in “what ifs” would only make things harder than what they had to be. He can’t have any ifs if he can’t make it through the now. And by the way he is carrying his present, he is doubtful he will even get to see a shed of that promised world that Vash tries to drag him into. So why mourn something he doesn’t even have, or will ever have for that matter.
He hates the way Vash seems to promise things so easily. His tongue silky and pliant, slipping divine words one after the other, promises way too big for what that barren world can actually fit.
But when Vash talks to him in that holy voice of his, when he hears him say “It’s okay, everything will be alright, I promise” so gently right on his ear, while he holds his face so tenderly making him focus on him and nothing else, he wants to believe him.
He has seen the end of his promises. He knows how impossible they are. But for once, he wants to believe it too. Believe in that loving world that will cradle them both until they fall asleep, listening to the soft sound of the wind laughing while the moons smile upon them.
So he allows himself to indulge in the warmth of his palms, leaning into the comfort of his existence, feeling the soft air of Vash’s breaths against his skin while their foreheads meet in a touch that feels like a hot brand that will melt him.
For an instant, he allows himself to be selfish and believe that maybe, that is how living in that world Vash so desperately fights for would be. Soft and warm, making him feel safe in the hollow of Vash’s hands where the world seems to fit so well. A world where the blue sky is a blanket that covers the love and care that is nestled in it like the one in Vash’s eyes. He wants to see that world.
For now, he will selfishly think that the world that fits in Vash’s hands is right there in where he is holding him, where his blue eyes are drowning in the light of the sunset dripping with love and care while looking at him, that the gentle touch of Vash’s thumb wiping his tears is the same as the kiss of that laughing wind in that distant future, where the smile of his eyes overcomes the smile of the moons.
He should know better. But he loves the thought of that world. And he hopes that Vash will get to see that world, because that gentle sight is more fitting for someone like him than the one of his violent world.
He promises to himself that he will do what it takes for that day to be possible. Even if the end of that promise will be empty for Nicholas, he knows it will be a full one for Vash. So it really isn’t that empty for him after all.
He hates his lies, and he hates how true they sound, but Vash’s embellished words are far sweeter than his bitter thoughts so they feel better on his insides, almost like a balm that cares for the wounds of his throbbing, painful reality.
He should know better.
But aren’t humans weak at the promise of love?
#yeah….mm…mhm yeah#my thoughts were going crazy with this one. because WW crying is something that has me week on the knees#WEAK FFS#also the thought of him becoming bare and emotional at the hands of Vash makes me want to jump around until I pass out#think of it. he is afraid of him in a way. but he trusts him so deeply too it’s such a contrasting and little contradictory thing#more like. denial after denial but yk what I mean. because that’s the whole post#also as a fun fact. while on the making of this thing the line of “it’s okay. everything will be alright. I promise#it’s meant to be said by Vash to WW#but also I did it considering that a)Vash is saying it to himself as well and b)it’s something WW wants to say to Vash as well#they are both incredibly pained men and they know it but don’t adress it. so verbally saying such words to each other issssUUUEHWHAGAH#ah yes. the intimacy of being emotionally vulnerable with the person who you would trust your life to but never openly say shit to eachother#isn’t that such an amazing flavor? I won’t lie to you it’s one of my favorites#trigun#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun stampede#trigun fanart#wolfwood#nicholas trigun#nicholas the punisher#lenssi writes#lenssi draws#trigun 2023#trigun 98#because I did a mishmash on WW design bc this is meant to be TriStamp time skip in my mind#his eyes were originally their canon steel blue/grayish tone. but while doing the lighting the brown looked gorgeous#i couldn’t help myself so I left it that way. because there is something so beautiful abt his eyes shining like that in#the afternoon light while he becomes undone under the sunset ya feel me?#OHFUCKIALMOSTFORGOT another little detail. Vash’s right hand doesn’t have a glove and it’s on purpose btw you’re welcome
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You’re back.. || (S.R)
The second part of “You’ll be back, right?” — Part One!
pairing(s): Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
summary: he said he’d be back for you, you waited.. he hadn’t shown.. what’ll happen?
warning(s): (MDNI 18+) stress, nausea, self-degradation, skin picking, pet-names, fingering, swearing !! (i believe that’s all..)
word count: 1,8k
‘He had gotten up from the mattress, it springing up due to the loss of his weight. Once he reached the handle of the door you yelled out to him, "You'll be back, right?" your voice drowsy, dripping with tiredness.
He looked back for a moment, smiling softly, "Right."’
—
The room was pale, normal for a hotel room. It was dark, gloomy, very much on the brink of unsettling. You hadn’t quite realized this before.. not really minding the room, it’s average, right? You’ve been on this job to be able to say you’ve been in enough hotel rooms than the average person does in a lifetime, but this room.. it’s different. A pit starts to form in your stomach, a feeling of utter emptiness.
Well.. now it’s different. The obvious lack of your previous partner is enough to make you weak, not that you weren’t already.. but your mental state is becoming ever so fragile by the second. He hadn’t returned. He said he’d be ‘right back’ and truly, an hour and a half doesn’t seem to be ‘right back’ to me.
Reid had always been a man of his word.. in fact, he had promised you he hadn’t wanted to leave, yet the minute he did and got the chance to be stripped of your company, he took it. The pit in your stomach grows. Didn’t he want you as a partner? Didn’t he want what you wanted? Did he lie? Why does he always make you feel like this, one second he likes you, the next he’s gone without a word.
Tears begin to form in the creases of my eyes. Am I truly that naive? So naive I let the man I’d fallen hopelessly for three years ago take my virginity? I had to constantly remind myself not to let myself go, and here I am.. alone in a hotel room miles away from home, hopelessly trying to grip onto a sliver of hope that he’ll return any second.
The sad part is I actually thought he’d be back, I trusted him with my feelings, with my body. My stomach turns, a single tear falling from my eye and burning my skin, like a fire igniting within me… anger? No, not at all anger, but pure regret. I told myself I’d handle myself around guys, especially that one, and I hadn’t. I left myself down. Another tear falls from my glassy eye.
I want to reverse what happened, go back and tell myself that this had to have been another thing for Reid to have against you, another way for him to turn against you, another way to control your feelings in a way that was more than belittling.
I claw at my skin, picking at it, dangerously close to drawing blood, but I don’t care. My stress takes control, my body shaking, my skin an absolute wreck. I need an out, I need to be out. I want to be home.
I feel nauseous.
I’m rocking myself from side to side, a mechanism I’ve had since I was a child. Biting my lip, picking at the skin that surrounds my nails. I feel like a child. I’m so childish. Couldn’t I have denied him? Why do I let him into my heart when all he does is break mine? The pit in my stomach drops, I need to puke.
I crawl out of bed, and run to the bathroom, jerking myself forward, feeling my stomach turn. I hate loving Spencer Reid. It’s a mistake, one I shouldn’t have made, one I poorly made. I need to take it back, I need to leave the team, I need to be home, why did I drink so much?
As I sit there, direly close to puking everywhere, I hear the doorknob rattle, once the person on the other end had realized the door was locked, a knock came seconds later. I pulled myself off of the floor, I’m dizzy. Mental note to self: take medication for this headache.
When I open the door, unaware that it would’ve been smarter to look through the peephole before, it opens to a panting Reid, a concerned look on his face, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth when he saw my face.
He reached his arms out, springing forward to hug me, and he won’t even shake hands with people? His arms on me feel all too familiar, I’m nauseous. I want to push him away, but I need him here, I’m a puddle of nothing without him.
I’m so pathetic, it’s depressing.
I sniffle, having only cried minutes earlier. “Where were you?” I said quietly, almost a whisper. He frowned, keeping his hands steady on my waist “Pretty Girl…” he shook his head at what seemed to be himself, “I’m so sorry. I went to grab clothes for tomorrow so I would be able to stay with you tonight, I didn’t want to leave you alone..” he said, voice cracking.
“I didn’t mean it, I had searched my go bag and couldn’t find anything, I stressed, and that stress led to me being so tired I fell asleep, i didn’t want to leave you, love.. please understand.” You sniffle again, another tear falling from your eye, is he lying? If so, it’s got to be the worst lie he could’ve come up with.
He lifted one of his hands to your face, his thumb wiping away your tears, your cheek felt hot, the same fire from earlier getting hotter. “I waited for you.. you promised you’d be back..” you looked down, not needing to see him right now, it didn’t help your case.
“Angel..” his hand still soft on your face, his touch seemingly healing all that’s wrong. “you’ve got to believe me, I wouldn’t leave you like that, ever. You should’ve came and woke me up.” He shook his head again, “I shouldn’t have even been sleeping, princess.. trust me when I say I didn’t mean this even a little bit.”
You had to tell him you were a virgin, but first you needed to not be standing up, you were already dizzy, and this is the type of conversation you’d sit for. You waddle to your bed slowly, him following suit, once sat he was directly next to you, sitting against the headboard, hand slung around your waist, thumb rubbing circles into your plush skin.
“Reid…” your voice cracked, “I need to tell you something.” He nodded, “Mhm?”. The pit in your stomach returns again, eating you from the inside out. “I’m.. a.. well I was.. a-“ a tear falls down my cheek “virgin.” He’d completely had moved to face you, hand moving to your face to wipe your tears.
“Angel,” he spoke, quieting you when you’d almost interrupted him, “why didn’t you tell me? I.. was I? Too much..?” You giggled foolishly, tears still leaving your eyes, the faint taste of salt now lingering on your lips. “No, not too much.. just.. figured you- should know.”
He smiled softly, moving both of his hands to the side of your face, “Can I kiss you?” He asked, you nodded. “Do we have to go through this again? I’d prefer it if you used your words, Angel.” All that could leave your mouth was a faint “yes,” a whisper, silent consent for him to make his next move.
His mouth was on yours in an instant, his tongue entering your mouth tasted like your tears, making you wince. You melted into the kiss, feeling safe, feeling content.
The kiss had gotten heated quickly, your hips bucking into the air, a faint “please” left your lips. He broke of the kiss, “Hm? Couldn’t hear you, princess..” “Please, I-“ he chuckled, “You?” you looked down.. “I want.. more.. please?” He’d move his hand to your chin, lifting it, enforcing eye contact.
“Your wish is my command, pretty girl.” He smirked, spreading your legs, and reaching under your pajama pants, finding your apparent lack of underwear. “Oh..” he smirked “so wet already, all ready for me, right? No panties.. you wanted this.” His finger ran up your slit “you were waiting for this.” Your head fell back, whimpering his name.
He groaned in appreciation, his hand moving to circle your clit, watching your hips buck, hearing your name fall from your mouth with no remorse, he loves this. He loves you. Always has.. “Feel good, doesn’t it? I’m gonna take care of you, Angel.” More whimpers left your mouth.
He didn’t want to be too harsh on you, he wanted to take care of you, to apologize in the only way he knew. He was good with statistics, talked about them for hours, rambling as much as he could get in a conversation. His feelings? They’ve always been hard for him, he’s best through expressing how he feels physically. This is his way of apologizing, and you knew it without him even telling you.
He stopped his circles to move his fingers down to your aching cunt, it tightening around nothing, you were his favorite sight he’s ever seen by far. “You ready for them, princess?” He asks you, teasing you softly, “y- mhm, mhm yes.” You were essentially incoherent, he understood half of it, and the other half was answered by your body’s reaction to his words.
His fingers entered you slowly, but couldn’t keep that pace for long, watching your face contort under him was something that’s going to be ingrained in his mind for the rest of his life. His pace had sped up fairly quickly, not too fast where it’d hurt, but fast enough to make your legs shake with such ease you didn’t even know how a person could do such things.
You gripped onto the sheets, whimpering incoherently, “I- p- lease… m- fuck.. close…” how he can make you so needy, and get you ever so close in such a short amount of time baffles the both of you, he chucked, moving faster.. anything for you, forever. Your head cocked forward and you had locked eyes with Spencer, “I- Reid.. I’m- c-“ he cut you off, “let go for me baby, please. Let me make this up to you..” he brought his thumb back up to rub small, tight circles, matching the rhythm his fingers had kept.
Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. Your whole body warm, to cold, to hot, shaking like you had just hours before due to him. You had pulled your pajamas back up, and gotten closer to him, needing him.
The pit in your stomach was gone, vanishing without a trace.
“Thank you…” you smiled up at him, snuggling into his chest. He rubbed circles into your waist with his hand, “Anything, Angel. I don’t care what I have to do, but I promise, I’ll make this up. You didn’t deserve any of that, me leaving you? That was cruel, and I’m sorry.” He took a deep breathe, “I’m never going to leave you like that again.”
You spoke up, “Promise? And I mean promise. No empty ones, but ones you’ll stick to.” He smiled to himself, “Promise. I’ll fulfill however many promises it takes to make this one up to you..” you giggled, “I love you.” He whispered, making himself just loud enough so you could hear him, “I love you too.”
The room was livable again, I could breathe. I was relieved, the walls no longer feeling claustrophobic, I guess I won’t leave the team after all… Spencer’s worth waiting for.
A/N: I’m so sorry this is SOOOO bad holy shit but here you guys go i hope uu like it! please, i beg.. tell me how i did or something feedback really helps w stuff like this 🙏🙏
#Spencer Reid#Spencer Reid smut#smut#criminal minds#gublergram#gublerland#gublernation#gublerween#mgg#mgg imagine#mgg smut#mgg x reader#mgg pics#spencer reid x you#cm#cm smut#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader
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single thread (pt. 2)
part 1, part 2, part 3
pairing: spider-man!steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: after the kiss, that string between you and steve seems to get thinner, shorter. you find out some things about him, too.
word count: 7.6k
warnings: spiderman!steve au, a little angst, fluff, injuries (most likely some inaccurate descriptions of them), idiots!!!!
a/n: part two is hereeee!!! thank u guys for all the love on the first one, i hope u guys continue to enjoy this one :,)
/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\
If it’s even possible, Steve thinks about you more after the kiss.
Kisses don’t usually feel like that. At least, he doesn’t think they do because he can’t remember what any other kiss felt like. You were enough to erase any that happened before you came along.
It was the best kiss he’s ever had and he never should’ve done it. Being friends with you was one thing, but letting his feelings get involved… there’s no turning back from that.
He’s sure that if he said any of this to Robin she'd call him a dingus and tell him to ask you out, but he can’t do it. He can’t.
You wouldn’t know what you’d be getting yourself into. That is, if you’d even want him at all. The injuries he comes home with—more so than what you’ve patched up yourself—the things he’s had to do, all of it.
You’re too soft, too good, for him to weigh you down with it.
He likes you so much, he knows he does. He likes you so much that he doesn’t want to do anything that could end up with you getting hurt or being unhappy. If that means only being your friend, he’ll do it.
He meant it when he said he never hated you, that much is obvious. And he meant it when he kissed you, the way he felt. He felt brave then, he makes himself brave everytime he puts on his suit, but he’s afraid of this. Of being with you fully, letting you know the truth.
It's been days, maybe a week, since he kissed you and neither of you have brought it up. Steve’s been trying to figure out what to say, how to tell you he’s not sorry for kissing you but he can’t do it again.
Today, he’s decided he’s gonna try. He taps his knuckles against your door, all too familiar of an action by now.
“Just a second!” You call. Even just hearing your voice, Steve knows it’ll be hard to have this conversation and sound like he means it.
You open the door, hair pulled away from your face, “hi, Steve.”
“Hey.”
You’re opening the door wider and stepping aside to let him in before he even asks.
Steve’s eyes are as soft as ever, his smile shy, almost nervous. Looking at him, you still can't believe he kissed you, that he opened up with just a few words.
Never hated you.
“Everything okay?” You ask him. It’s early in the afternoon, and if Steve’s knocking on your door, it’s usually late. You wonder why it’s different this time.
“Yeah. Yep. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay,” nerves bubble in your stomach.
“I kissed you,” the words come out in a rush, like he had to force them out, to bring it up.
“You did.”
“I’m sorry that I haven’t said anything about it. I just, um, needed to think about what to say.”
He sounds more serious than he has with you in a while. Since you started bringing him meals and he started to let you in. You twist your hands in front of you.
“I never said anything, either.”
He shakes his head. “I’m really glad to know you, okay? I just think, maybe, being friends works for us, right? And I don’t want to mess that up, so…”
“So we don’t kiss again.” You hope your voice doesn’t show your disappointment.
You like Steve an embarrassing amount, and when he kissed you, your heart expanded in your chest. A balloon filling up with air until, inevitably, it’d pop. Now, he’s letting you down easy and he’s being so gentle about it that it makes you wanna cry even more.
Damn him for being such a good guy.
“Is that okay?”
“Steve, we’re friends. Don’t worry about it. We’re good, promise.”
You mean it. It’s okay, he can’t help the way he feels and even if it’s not what you’d been hoping for, it’s not his fault you got your hopes up. You’d rather be his friend than be nothing at all.
You can squish your crush down, tuck it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist. You can do it because you were doing it before. It’s fine. It has to be.
Steve feels relief wash over him, though it mingles with some sort of worry that even in doing what he thinks is better, he’s still managing to hurt you. Either way, he’s said the words and his decision’s been made.
He can tell you’re biting at the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours he’s noticed. He knows you do it when you’re nervous or upset and his jaw tenses. He steps over to you and hugs you.
Steve rarely hugs you. There was that time when you cooked for him, and that was it. The rarity of the action tells you he means it, it matters. He’s so gentle when he does this time, his arms folding around your shoulders and his chin perching itself on top of your head.
You fall into his hold easily. You think you always will. Your arms go around his waist, cheek pressed against his shirt’s collar. You don’t think you’ve ever hugged a friend like this before.
So softly, quietly. Both of you breathing each other in and hoping the other doesn’t notice, wondering who’s gonna break away first.
Steve tilts his chin to press a kiss against your hair, his lips still against you when he mumbles, “thank you for understanding, honey.”
The pet name reassures you. Nothing has to be different, and you can be okay with that.
“Thanks for being honest. And I’m really glad to know you, too, by the way.”
Reluctantly, you pull back first, looking down at your feet as you do, too scared that your feelings are written all over your face.
“I’ll see you, yeah?” He still sounds nervous, cautious.
“We do live across the hall from each other, so…”
He huffs, it’s a barely-there laugh, but you’ll take it.
“Bye, honey.”
“Bye, Steve.”
When he leaves and shuts the door behind him, you fall onto your couch, head in your hands and mumbling about how stupid you are, how hopeless.
Steve’s senses can pick up the sound of your voice, the sound of your footsteps, he can pick out some words. Like ‘dummy’ and ‘idiot.’
He mouths the words ‘I’m sorry’ at your door.
He thinks, If whatever he encounters while patrolling tonight doesn’t, Robin’s gonna fucking kill him.
-
Things were awkward for a bit after that. Not enough to make you want to avoid him, though. He’s not someone you can let go of like that. He’s under your skin and he has no idea.
You’re standing outside his door with the dinner you’ve made him once again. You thought that maybe this would help make things feel normal again. Routine and friendly.
He opens the door quickly after you knock, shaking his head with a smile at the dish in your hands. “I told you, you don’t have to cook for me.”
“I told you I like doing it,” you hand him his food, and despite his protesting, he takes it easily.
Steve was relieved to hear you knocking at his door, relieved to see you with those same strands of hair falling around your face, the same shy smile you wear every time you deliver food.
“Do you wanna stay?” He asks.
“I have to go close at work.”
Steve nods. He knows where he’ll be patrolling tonight, at least.
“Okay. Thanks again.”
“It’s no big deal.”
Maybe not to you, but it is to him. Steve doesn’t want you wasting money or energy on him, but he can’t lie and say that it doesn’t feel nice to have someone care about him the way you do. To have someone actually want to take care of him, even in small ways.
He has Robin, of course he does, but it isn’t the same. He’s not sure his feelings for any person have ever been like his feelings for you.
He wants to do something for you for once, and when you go to turn around and leave, he stops you, “hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Would you let me cook for you sometime? Let me do it for you for once?”
You feel warm, your heart growing in your chest. “I’d like that.”
“Tomorrow work for you?”
“Tomorrow’s great.”
“Okay,” Steve has no idea what he’ll make, and he’ll definitely have to go grocery shopping, probably—reluctantly—call Robin for advice. That doesn’t stop him from feeling a buzz in his chest ‘cause he’ll get to see you. For longer than a couple of minutes this time.
This time, when you turn around, Steve lets you.
Your shift that night is slow and uneventful. Thankfully, so is your walk home. Even after weeks, you’re checking over your shoulder every so often, glancing up at the buildings in search of a superhero you’ve met once. One who probably meets people like you every day, who probably doesn’t even remember you.
Tomorrow comes quickly, and suddenly, you’re worrying about what to wear. Then, after making a mess of your closet, you’re standing in the hallway knocking on Steve’s door all over again.
For once, he didn’t hear you coming, too focused on making sure everything looked right, that he didn’t seem as nervous as he is. When you knock, he hides the cookbook he’d bought that morning in a cupboard before letting you in.
There’s a strand of hair falling over his forehead. That’s what you notice when you first see him. You stop yourself from reaching up and pushing it back.
“Hey, come in,” he moves aside and shuts the door behind you when you walk in.
“Smells good.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not!” You aren’t lying, but you would if you had to. If his cooking was awful, you’d probably have two servings to make him feel good about it.
He’s set up plates at the stools by his island in his kitchen. When he notices you looking there he speaks up, “sorry. I don’t have an actual table.”
You shake your head, “don’t be. Neither do I. You know, ‘cause we live in the same apartments.”
“Right, yeah.”
He gestures for you to sit down, and you do. He brings the food over, putting some on both of your plates before sitting down beside you. His knee brushes yours.
He waits for you to take a bite first, searching your face for a reaction.
“Steve, this is really good.”
He makes a mental reminder to thank Robin for the cookbook recommendation later. Right now, he focuses on the brush of his leg against yours, on the way you laugh softly at his jokes, the way your cardigan falls off your shoulder.
Steve’s eyes are on you so much that you swear you can feel it. You don’t even think he realizes that he’s staring, that he’s leaving a blazing trail wherever his eyes go.
When you look at him, you find his gaze easily, eyes meeting, saying things you couldn’t say out loud. You can't help but feel like this is more than just two friends hanging out. If it was, you probably would’ve gotten take out, and you probably wouldn’t be fighting hard to keep your eyes off of his lips. Especially when he talks.
Not a date, you remind yourself. Just friends.
Steve’s an idiot for thinking he can keep himself at a certain distance from you. He’s an idiot for ignoring his feelings and thinking that because he said you should be friends, they’d go away. It’s clear that they won’t.
He forces his eyes away from you and back down to his food, filling the tension with the first question that comes to mind.
“So, where do you work?” He already knows the answer. He’s jumped across buildings to make sure you get there safe and done the same for your walks home.
“Oh, just this small bookstore. It’s pretty quiet, but I like it there.”
“You like to read, then?” He knows this answer too. There’s a very full bookshelf in your living room.
You nod, finishing your bite of food before replying, “love it. Sometimes, when we have extra stock that isn’t selling, my boss lets me take books home for free.”
He can hear the honesty in your voice, the excitement you get when talking about something that makes you happy. He likes the sound more than he should.
Steve’s about to ask you something else when it happens; the hairs on his neck and arms standing, the goosebumps trailing across his skin, the ringing in his ears. Something’s wrong.
You can see the shift in him. His shoulders tensing, his eyebrows scrunching. You have to say his name three times before he hears you.
“Steve?”
His head snaps over to you, “hm?”
“Is everything okay? I lost you just then.”
“It’s fine,” he drops his fork onto his plate, his hands balled into fists. “I just forgot that I have to do something.”
��What?”
“I have to go. I’m so sorry, you can stay, finish your food. But I really have to go, okay?”
The last thing he wants to do is leave you, but he has to.
“Steve, are you sure everything’s okay?” You put a hand on his shoulder but he flinches away.
“It’s alright. I gotta go,” he stands and snatches his backpack on his way out the door, “I’m sorry, honey.”
And he’s gone.
-
You don’t finish your food. You’re stuck staring at the door after Steve leaves. It’s obvious that there's something he isn’t telling you, and you wish it didn’t bug you so much.
By the time you’re able to snap out of it, the food’s grown cold. No, you don’t eat it, but you try to occupy yourself by cleaning up the best you can without snooping through his stuff. You take as long as you can, hoping that maybe he'll come back at some point.
He doesn't.
The short walk back to your place is almost robotic, your mind in a haze, legs moving on auto-pilot.
You’ve always known that Steve hasn’t told you very much about his life. It's been clear in the way he distanced himself from you for so long, in how he likes to ask more questions, let you talk more. Still, you worry that it’s bigger than you ever thought.
You worry that out of all the seemingly impossible things you’ve wondered about what could be happening to him when seeing him injured, one of them is true.
It's worse because you like him so much. You care more than you ever should for someone that you don’t know all that well. You think you knew him best when he kissed you, when he wasn’t talking with his voice at all.
It was unguarded, like something had snapped, frayed enough to let his feelings seep through. You’d like to know him like that again. Just friends.
You sigh and head to your room to change out of the outfit you’d spent so much time choosing. Then, you do your skincare. Your apartment is completely silent, but your head is a roaring mess of noise. You finish up in minutes, though you feel like it's been longer.
It’s too early for you to go to bed, and you know you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you tried, so you head to your living room and sit on the couch, your knees tucked up to your chest.
You grab the remote and switch on the news, needing something to fill up the silence, to drown out your thoughts.
The headline on the bottom of the screen is what you notice first. The mention of Spider-man.
You rest your chin on your knees and stare at the screen, the rushed footage of that red and blue suit swinging across buildings. The screaming in your head of SteveSteveSteve fades to whispers.
You remember the sound of those webs that hold him up, the air that rushed through your hair and against your skin when he swung you home. You remember the feeling of his suit under your hands and the way the white eyes of his mask were expressive despite being fake.
It feels wrong to think about Spider-man as often as you do while wanting to be around Steve so much. It’s just curiosity, you tell yourself. He saved me and I can’t forget about it.
You’ve been subconsciously searching for him all over the place. Your walks home, the front pages of papers at newsstands. You look for his face—mask, really—and you don’t always realize what you're doing.
Still, when the segment about the hero ends, Steve floods back into your mind. Just like he always does.
He’s growing all over you, vines of ivy stringing across your being just a bit more every time you see him. You’ve never really felt that way, never had someone that you wanted to let so close. It hasn’t been long, but he knows you better than most people do.
You huff and get up to grab one of your books. You hope that the words on pages you use to escape so often will work the same way this time.
-
It’s late when Steve gets home, completely dark, completely quiet.
He climbs in through his window and showers like always when he finishes a patrol. He hates how he had been hoping to see you when he walked into his kitchen.
Instead, he sees that you cleaned up a lot of the dishes, that you were kind enough to do that even when he left the way he did. It sends a ping of something he has to ignore to his heart, a squeeze, an ache.
He doesn’t know how he’ll explain himself to you, because he doesn’t want to lie to you, but he can’t tell you the truth, either.
It’s completely fucked. He’s fucked.
-
Steve never really explained himself, and you sort of just accepted that. He’s not obligated to share every bit of his life with you, as much as you want him to. You want to be the person he’s completely himself with.
It’s selfish, and it’s absolutely not going to happen.
Things go back to normal. Well, as normal as they have been since the kiss. Rather than making him dinner, you and Steve take turns and have a meal together once a week. He’s finally convinced you to stop buying extra food just for him.
He’s even made a habit of visiting you at work when things aren’t too busy, and with every passing day, any lingering upset or concerns you had about his hasty exit that day seem to melt away.
He’s human, he has secrets, and you can only hope that they aren’t anything that’s hurting him.
The way that you seem to let things go unanswered with him make your feelings clear. You more than like him, you want to plant yourself on him the way he has on you, to be something to him.
Steve’s been trying again and again to keep himself away from you in a sense. To be platonic and be okay with that, but he’s smart enough to know that the hold you have over him is so much more.
He has no idea how you don’t see it all over him, but he figures it might be for the best. If he can’t hide it, at least you can be blind to it.
Today’s another quiet day at the bookstore. Business seems to be slowing more and more in the independent shop, and though you love the quiet, you’d hate to lose the place. The smell of the books and their pages, the section of used books with enough character to fill the space.
The first eventful part of your day so far has been the phone ringing, and you pick it up quickly.
“Hello?”
“Hey, honey,” it’s Steve, just like you’d hoped. “You busy?”
“Not at all.”
“Hungry?”
Somehow, his voice sounds even better over the phone. The crackle of it in the speakers, the way that it’s all you have to focus on since you can’t see him at the moment. It has a bigger presence.
“I could eat,” you say.
“That’s great, ‘cause I already ordered the food.”
“Steeeve.”
He can almost hear the smile in your voice, and if he shuts his eyes tight enough, he can see it, too. The shyness behind it, the way your shoulder will lift to your cheek. It’s cute.
“You don’t mind if I stop by, do you?” He asks, like it’s even a question.
“You’d show up no matter what I said.”
“But…”
“You know I don’t mind. You’ll be my first customer of the day!”
“What an honor,” there’s silence for a moment, and you can hear each other breathing on the other line. “I’ll see you in a few, ‘kay?”
“Okay.”
The phone’s hung up with a click.
In the time it takes Steve to walk (swing, but you don’t know that) over, you walk around and tidy up anything that’s out of place. You do this every time he calls to ask if it’s alright that he visits, trying to make the minutes go by faster.
You’re straightening books on the front display table when the bell above the door jingles, and soon after, a wide hand covering your eyes.
“Guess who.”
“Hmmm, let me think. Spider-man?”
You’re clearly joking, but Steve’s stunned. If you listen close enough, you can hear his sharp intake of breath at your reply. She doesn’t know, he convinces himself. She doesn’t know, shake it off.
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
Steve takes his hand away from your face and sets the paper takeout bag on the front counter next to the register, the bag crinkling as he opens it.
“Mmm,” you hum, looking at the spread of what he’s brought you. “You’re the best.”
He likes being called the best by you, and he likes the feeling he gets when he hears it. Like he’s someone important, someone good.
“Yeah, well. I’ve gotta make up for all of the meals you’ve made me.”
He always says that, and you always tell him the same things. “You don’t owe me anything, Steve.”
He absolutely does. He owes you so much. For the food you’ve made him, for patching him up and never pushing the subject, for being the person you are and bringing out the person he hasn’t been in a long, long time.
He won’t tell you that, though, so he just shakes his head. “Dig in.”
You do, and so does he, the white, cardboard containers spread across the counter. You talk between bites of food, the easy kind of conversation that isn’t very common, especially for someone like you.
You don’t have people, really. Steve is the someone you do have.
He asks you about the book you have sitting on the counter, and he listens to everything you say like he really cares. You bond over the poor water pressure in your showers, and you laugh at Steve’s impression of your landlord. It’s your favorite kind of lunch break.
Your shifts usually feel slow, but when Steve shows up, time flies by. Before you know it, you’re stacking the empty boxes and tossing them in the garbage.
“Thanks for the food, Steve.”
“‘Course.” He’s about to say something else when it happens again.
The tingling over his skin, the goosebumps spreading all over, his hairs standing up. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, forgetting that you’re there to see him do it, focusing on his senses and where he has to go.
“Steve?”
Shit. He has to leave again. At least he made it through the meal this time. That’s something.
“Yeah?”
“Are you alright?”
“Perfect, yeah. Just, um, a headache.”
You don’t look convinced, but like you so often do, you drop it. Steve doesn’t know why you let him get away with so much, and he feels awful for it. He’ll tell you one day, maybe, when it’s safe. Just not today.
“I have some water, here,” you go to grab it but he stops you.
“That’s okay, honey. I think I’ll just head home.”
“Okay.”
“Have a good rest of your shift, okay?”
“Yeah. Bye.”
He grabs his backpack and heads out the door. You wait for him to be a few steps away and then you peek out the door, eyes following his figure on the sidewalk.
You see him break into a run before turning into an alleyway. You’re confused all over again.
-
Steve really wasn’t expecting it to be so bad this time, especially considering the fact that the sun’s still up.
He’d changed into his suit in that alley you saw him run into, hiding behind a dumpster and swinging off as quick as he could when he was done. He should’ve guessed it’d be serious by how strong his senses came on. Should’ve seen it coming.
He was a little busy thinking about you.
But then he saw what was going on and forced himself to focus. There was a group, maybe five, six people, who'd made some sort of enhanced weapons using electricity, and his superpowers, as great as they are, don’t protect him from the shocks those things could cause.
Not to mention how outnumbered he was. He knew this one could take a while. First, he focused on getting anyone in danger out of there, clearing the area until it was just him, the people with the weapons, and news reporters stupid enough to stay on scene.
He had to be smart for this one, so he used heights to his advantage, staying above them all while tracking them quickly. Steve also made sure they didn’t start heading in the direction of the bookstore, your bookstore.
The first two were easy to get, the ones that fell behind their group. Steve was able to web them up without getting too close.
It gets tougher after that. The others seem smarter, strategic, and he had to be better than them to make it stop. He takes a second to hide from them, closing his eyes and really letting his senses do the work.
When he opens his eyes again, things move in a blur.
He’s flipping and ducking, narrowly avoiding their shots, running harder than he has in a while. It’s the type of day that’ll leave him sore in the morning, he knows that for sure. Before he really processes it, there’s only two guys left to catch.
There’s a wake of broken and burning things behind them, but Steve can’t stop to fix anything until this is taken care of, so he doesn’t even look back.
Just as he tries to web one of them, they shoot at him, and the electric current collides with his web, sending a shock up his arm. A zap so quick, he couldn’t see it coming. He’s distracted from it, his hand shaky and it makes things harder.
After some swinging and punching, he manages to get one guy. In the midst of it, he’s lost the other one. At least, until he feels a spark of pain in his side. The electricity was focused enough to leave a welt on his skin, one he can already feel developing.
He’s too late to avoid the second hit when he spots the guy, ducked behind a dumpster, peeking out like a sniper. The same side is hit, and he knows another mark will prove that.
Steve has to rush around the corner to get out of sight and recover for a moment, a hand—shaking and sweaty in his glove—coming to hover over the burn marks on his suit.
“Fuck,” he breathes. The pain is sharp and hot, the kind that doesn’t go away until it’s taken care of. “Okay. Get the guy, and go. It’s fine.”
He grunts when he stands straight again, another noise escaping him when he shoots a web and swings around the corner back to the alley. The last guy is still by the dumpster, and Steve lets go of his web and lands close enough to knock him off balance.
The guy must panic, because he pulls the trigger on Steve and manages to nick his side a third time. From this close, the current is only amplified. Steve’s knocked to the side, but he manages to stay upright.
Get him, and go home. Do it. He has to push himself, and it has to be enough to finish the job. When he realizes that he’s closer to the bookstore than he was before, he clenches his fists and punches the man hard enough that he falls to the ground.
Steve webs his there, and then he slumps against the wall of the alleyway, his side burning, his breathing short. He has to get home.
He breathes out a deep breath and stands, shooting his first web and gritting his teeth as he goes up with it. He swings by news anchors and finds it in himself to mumble, “fucking idiots,” at them.
By the time he gets inside his apartment via the window, it’s dark outside, and he doesn’t know how long he spent wrangling that group. He’s a mess of panting and sweating, his suit scorched and his skin an ugly color.
He takes a cool shower and throws on a thin shirt and the first pair of sweatpants he finds. He has to sit on his bed for a solid ten minutes to make sure he doesn’t pass out the next time he stands.
But when he does get up, he heads to his door like the absolute idiot he is. He heads into the hall to find you.
-
You stand up quick enough to get a head rush when he knocks on your door. You know it’s him, that’s not the question going through your head. No, you’re wondering if he’s okay.
Your heart’s already racing when you open the door. It gets quicker when you see him.
“Steve?” Your eyes flicker all over his face, searching for blood or bruising. Anything at all. “You okay?”
Steve’s eyes are bloodshot, his forehead damp with sweat and the droplets of water falling from his hair. Even so, all he tells you is: “I just wanted to make sure you-” his face scrunches, he pants between his words “-you got home okay.”
“I’m good. I’m alright,” you say, though it’s obvious since you’re standing right in front of him. “What about you?”
“I’m fine.” He holds up his arm in a weak thumbs up and winces with the movement. You aren’t fooled in the slightest.
“No, you’re not. Get inside and let me help you.”
“Honey-”
You grab his hand gently, your fingers wrapped around his. You can feel him shaking as you tug him inside and shut the door. “Come on.”
He doesn’t really have it in him to argue with you, and as much as he shouldn’t, he wants to be around you, to hurt less because of your comfort and your soft touch.
Steve lets you lead him into your bathroom once more, watches as you bend down to grab the first-aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. He still has the bandages you gave him, and he’s lucky he won’t need them now since he’s not bleeding. He didn’t bring them with him.
You guide him to stand in front of the counter where the light is best and reach for his face, your hands holding his cheeks and tilting him down to you. His hands grasp your wrists, like an instinct.
There’s guilt in his eyes that you try to ignore. A frown tugs between your brows, at the corners of your lips.
“You look a little pale. What happened?”
“I can’t- I can’t tell you that right now.”
You push his hair away from his forehead before pulling your hands away. You bite the inside of your cheek and nod. You’re more worried about him right now; you can worry about whatever happened later.
Steve goes to lean against the counter. He grunts when his back hits it, his hand covering his side in reflex. You catch it.
“Take your shirt off.”
“Wha-”
“You’re hurt, Steve. I can tell. Let me see it.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stop saying that and let me see. Please.”
He blows out a slow breath and reaches for the hem of his shirt, because he knows you won’t let it go until he shows you. Taking his shirt off is uncomfortable, and he makes quiet sounds to prove it. He keeps his eyes cast onto the floor when he tosses his shirt aside.
You look down slowly, your eyes passing down his neck and chest first, then lingering on his stomach for a second too long. You’d never expect him to be built the way he is, lines of muscle under his skin.
You can’t focus on that for long, not when you notice the three welts on his side. There’s already bruising, shades of purple and green spreading, outlined in redness.
You swear you can feel something crack in your chest, the sadness that seeps into your eyes in the form of tears along your waterline. “Oh my god.”
He hates the way your voice sounds, the way your expression shows how worried you are for him. He hates that someone like you is so concerned about him.
“It looks worse than it is.”
“Steve.”
You kneel on the tiles in front of him to get a closer look. Your hands hover over the marks, too afraid to touch him, too afraid to hurt him even more.
Steve’s shaky hands grab yours, squeezing your fingers like he’s reminding you he’s okay, he’s alive enough to do that. You don’t look at his face, but he can’t look away from yours.
“What can I do to help?” You ask.
“You’re doing more than enough,” he says quietly, his voice a low hum in the air. “They’ll go away.”
Who could possibly be hurting him? This boy with soft eyes and a kindness even the highest of walls couldn’t keep hidden.
“I’m so sorry, Steve.”
You lean forward and peck the skin of his stomach, just beside the bruises. You’re not thinking about the consequences when you do it, you’re only thinking about how much pain he must keep hidden from everyone. About how much you’d do to make it go away.
Steve doesn’t know whether to cry or kiss you stupid for it. He settles on tugging you up to stand with his grip on your hands and leaning his forehead against yours. He’s not thinking about the consequences, either.
“Don’t you dare be sorry. Not you.”
“You’re hurting.”
“And you have nothing to do with that. If anything, you do the opposite.”
You squeeze your eyes shut to stop any tears from escaping.
“Will you stay for a bit?”
No, there’s absolutely no thinking about the consequences when you’re this close, when your hands are in his. There’s no thinking when Steve agrees.
“Yeah, honey. I’ll stay.”
You nod and breathe in, catching the scent of his body wash, and pull away. You have to force yourself to let go of him and move out of his way so he can put his shirt back on.
Steve has to stop himself from reaching for you when you step away. Instead, he tries not to wince again when he picks up his shirt and pulls it on.
He follows you out into the living room, sits beside you on the couch and leaves distance between you. He observes you as you pick out a movie to put on, thanks you when you toss him a blanket.
He feels warm all over at the way you seem to take care of him without thinking. It spreads from his chest and expands and expands and expands until it’s everywhere from his head to his toes.
-
Somehow, you end up with Steve’s head in your lap.
The inches separating you and him on the couch grew shorter and shorter as you spoke until your thighs touched. You both acted like you didn’t notice.
Then, the further you got into the movie, the quieter you both became. So quiet that you hadn’t noticed how tired Steve was until you felt his head drop against your shoulder. You were barely able to smile at the action before he jerked himself upright.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re tired.”
“You must be, too.”
You shake your head, “not really. You should lay down.”
“I can just go,” he said, like that’s what you’d prefer.
“I’ve got a comfy lap, promise.”
Steve blames his tiredness and the haze of it all for agreeing and laying on his side, his cheek against the top of your thigh.
He’d never say it out loud, but he does feel really comfortable in the moment. He almost forgets about the bruising on his side. It takes a lot for him not to wrap his arms around you then.
“You can sleep if you want to,” you say, noticing the way his eyes blink heavily.
“Then you’ll be stuck here.”
That wouldn’t be so bad, you think. “I’ll go to bed when I want to. I’ll be sneaky, you won’t even notice.”
“As long as you wake me up if you have to.”
“Sure I will.”
Steve knows you absolutely won’t—he knows you’d rather fall asleep where you’re sitting and risk a sore neck than disturb him, because that’s who you are—but he doesn’t call you on it. Instead, he shuts his eyes and lets the comfort of your apartment, of you, put him to sleep.
You look down at him after a bit, and you notice his even breaths, the pout on his mouth as he sleeps. Softly, you run your fingers through his hair, pulling apart the tangles gently.
Without thinking, you keep doing it until the movie ends. You still aren’t tired, and you really don’t want to wake him up, so you grab your remote and switch it to the news.
They’re talking about Spider-man, you realize. They talk about him a lot.
“Today, a group of criminals with illegally enhanced weapons were taken down by none other than our city’s masked hero, Spider-man.”
The anchor talks in that classic news lady voice, one that would usually have you turning down the volume, but where Spider-man’s involved, you’re inclined to listen.
“We have some witness clips here, where you can see him in action.”
The screen switches to show a video that was taken on a bystander’s phone, the footage shaky, the witness dumb enough to stand there and film rather than run.
You can see Spider-man fighting someone, can see the quick flashes of webbing as well as the opponent’s weapon shooting. You can see how quick he is, the way his reflexes work. You think about what it was like to see it with your own eyes.
Then, it cuts to a new video, where he seems to be swinging away from the scene, but towards the camera. The anchor says something that makes your ears ring.
“It looks like there are some burn marks on his suit where Spider-man was hit. Three on his side, I’m being told.”
Three marks. On his side.
It has to be a coincidence that Steve showed up to your door after the whole Spider-man thing had happened with the exact same injuries, right?
Then, what if it isn’t? What if this is why he’s been getting hurt all this time?
You think about every interaction with Steve you’ve had. The day you met, when he carried your boxes without breaking a sweat. The way he tried so hard to isolate himself from you, the lack of details he shares about his life. The injuries he’s come to you with, the scars you’ve noticed but haven’t mentioned.
And most recently, the way he’s left in a hurry after zoning out for a minute.
You think your heartbeat might be loud enough to wake Steve up.
Steve.
You look down at his face, at the delicate skin under his eyes, at the way his eyelashes rest there in his sleep. You look down at this boy, asleep in your lap, and realize that he’s carrying all that weight by himself.
If you’re right about this, about him being Spider-man, you think he deserves even more than what you give him. More than the dinners and the company, more than the friendship. He deserves to be hugged, to be told how strong he is.
Fuck, you need to thank him, if you’re right. Because he’s the one who saved you, the one who brought you home and made sure you got inside, the one who reminded you to take care of your wrist.
Holy shit. That realization makes your head spin.
“Who are you, Steve?” You whisper. He can’t hear you, he’s fast asleep, but you ask anyway.
When you finally manage to lift his head from your lap and get up, shutting off the TV as you do, you head to your bedroom. You lay on your back on top of your sheets and stare at the ceiling.
You don’t sleep very much that night.
-
Cooking has become something to do to keep you busy, to take your mind off things. So, when you’re sure you’re not getting any more sleep, it feels natural to head to the kitchen and start making breakfast.
You move about your small kitchen as quietly as you can, the presence of the boy asleep on your couch something hard to ignore. The boy you’re pretty sure is Spider-man, the boy you more than like.
Despite Steve’s enhanced hearing, he doesn’t wake up due to any noise. No, for the first time in a long time, he blinks his eyes open slowly and lets the sunlight seeping through the window get him up. He stretches before standing up from your couch.
There’s a stiff ache in his side, which isn’t surprising, but it still has him cursing under his breath at the reminder of yesterday.
His voice makes you peek over your shoulder at him. “Good morning.”
Steve rubs his eyes and looks over at you standing by the stove. He has to rub them again to make sure he isn’t dreaming.
He walks over and leans against the counter next to where you cook. “Hi. Thanks for letting me stay.”
You give him a quick smile, a sunbeam.
You’ve decided to try and act normal with him, act like you don’t know this huge piece of information. He deserves the space to tell you in his own time. That is, if he’ll ever tell you at all.
“Yeah. You feel okay?”
“Bit sore. It’ll go away.”
“I doubt my cheap couch helped with that.”
“It helped.”
He sounds so sure about that, like it was the best sleep he could’ve gotten.
“Are you hungry?” You ask. You’ve already cooked enough for him, too.
“I don’t want to overstay or anything.”
“Steve, I’m offering. I’d like it if you stayed for breakfast.”
His stomach growls before he’s able to reply. You both laugh softly, you amused, him embarrassed. “Guess that’s a yes.”
Steve acts the same as he usually does as you eat, keeping conversations steered towards you, pretending like there aren’t bruises under his shirt as you speak. He seems to forget the powers that he has, the persona that’s a kept secret.
He wants to thank you over and over, to apologize to you over and over, to tell you all of the things he swore he couldn’t feel for you. He wants to tell you so much, but he’s scared—not nearly as brave as he is when he has his mask on—and he can’t get anything out.
Steve just wishes he could put into words exactly what you do for him, how unfair he knows it is to ask of you, how much it means that you help him regardless.
Instead of doing any of that, he eats the food you cook and shares more smiles with you than he does with anyone.
You watch as he takes his empty plate and rinses it off for you, the way his t-shirt is a bit tighter across his upper back, the set of his shoulders. Those shoulders that carry so much all by himself.
You’re frowning before you can help it. Not because he hasn’t told you, you can understand that, but because he must be so convinced that he’s better off doing it all alone.
“Thanks again for breakfast. You cook too many meals for me.” He lingers by your door, rocking on his feet like he’s not sure where to go.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Steve’s expression shifts in the smallest way when you ask. He can’t wrap his head around someone caring about him—besides Robin—to ask so often.
“I’m okay.”
Before you can really think about it you walk up to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You squeeze him as tight as you can while being mindful not to hurt him. Your face is tucked into the side of his neck, and he can feel your lips on his skin.
His arms seem to move before he’s aware of it, hugging you back around your waist, squeezing you just as tight. He needed this, he thinks, and somehow, you knew he did.
“I really care about you, Steve.”
He rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, shutting his eyes to try and capture how it feels to be held by you, to hold you.
“Me too, honey.”
/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\
thank u for reading!! if u enjoyed, please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think!!! it helps more than you’d think <3
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington story#steve harrington requests#steve harrington request#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington angst#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington friends to lovers#steve harrington fanfiction#steve x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#spiderman!steve#spidey!steve#spiderman!steve au#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things steve#stranger things fanfic#steve stranger things#steve harrington au
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The Widow (1)
Summary: You trust no one. Not since they got your husband killed.
Pairing: TFaTW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Warnings: mentions death of a loved-one, the reader is under protection, bitchy reader, arguments, grumpy Bucky, angst
The widow masterlist
The Widow - Prologue
You wake from another nightmare, screaming at the top of your lungs. When you sit up, you clutch the blanket to your chest and try to remember what your therapist told you.
“One,” you count. “Two,” you sniffle. “This is shit.” You grab the lamp from the nightstand and throw it at the man stepping inside your room.
“Whoa, watch where you are throwing your lamps,” Bucky grumbles. He dodged your attack just in time to watch the lamp hit the wall next to him. “I came here to check on you, not to get hit by a lamp.”
He tugs his gun away, looking around the room. “What happened? Why did you scream? A spider? A bug?”
“Get out,” you look away to not show him the unshed tears in your eyes. “That’s none of your business. I didn’t want you to come here and save me. Go back to sleep.”
Bucky watches you run your hands over your arms. He knows the signs of nightmares all too well. Sleep is not his friend. Most of the time he wakes from another nightmare. Skin sweat-slicked and with a racing heart.
“I’m outside if you need anything.”
“Sure-“ you quip. “Just like the other guys promising to protect me and Ransom if he tells them everything he knows about his former partner.” You pucker your lips. “Now he’s dead and gone all because of them.”
“He’s dead because he was a criminal.”
“Ransom wasn’t a criminal,” you throw the blanket away and slip out of the bed to walk toward the second nightstand. You grab the lamp and throw it at Bucky. This time you hit him square in the chest. “Get out! I dare you to say one more word about my husband.”
Your lips quiver and you clutch your hands to your chest. No. You won’t cry in front of this stranger. He’s no better than the others.
“You should practice your aim,” he looks at the broken lamp on the ground. “I hope you know, it’s your job to keep the house clean.”
“Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you, doll!” He grunts and storms toward the door. “If you want to stay alive, stop screaming for nothing.”
“Asshole!”
The door slams shut, leaving you angry and sad. Why does everyone believe Ransom was a bad person? He made one single mistake.
Your husband trusted the wrong person and ended up laundering money for a mafia boss, not a businessman in trouble.
“I see she’s still alive,” Sam grins when you glare his way. You only lifted your eyes from the magazine you pretended to read to watch the two men. “Anything to report, Bucky?”
“She threw two lamps at me,” Bucky grunts. “I think we should handcuff her. Maybe a gag will help too.”
“Fuck you,” you snarl at Bucky. “I didn’t ask you to babysit me. Ransom is dead. I know nothing about his business. So, let me go. I’ll figure things out from here.”
“No can do,” the super-soldier glares at you. “Why don’t you try to act like a decent person?”
“Why don’t you choke?” You flash him your best-faked smile. “I hope all of you getting my Ransom killed rot in hell.”
“Bucky, a word?” Sam jerks his head toward the kitchen. “We need to talk about a few things. Especially her husband’s death, and his business.”
“I can tell you everything about my husband’s death,” you snarl. “Your fine agents told his former business partner where to find us. He died protecting me. Ransom was more man than you could ever be!”
“Bucky, don’t,” Sam holds his friend back. “Please just drop it. She’s…hurt…and scared.”
“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I’m annoyed by his presence.”
Bucky follows Sam out of the room. He huffs and balls his metal hand into a fist. “If you don’t find someone else to babysit her, I cannot guarantee she’ll be alive at the end of the week…”
“Bucky, I know she’s driving you up the walls, but her husband died in her arms.” Sam places pictures of your dead husband on the table. “Five bullets hit him, and he still managed to protect Y/N.”
“Hmm…” Bucky glances at the pictures.
“She’s traumatized but won’t admit it.” Sam gives his friend a stern look. “She has nightmares and mood swings. This has nothing to do with you or your presence. Y/N watched her husband die and held him in her arms. She was like a feral animal, biting and scratching the agents when they tried to part her from her dead husband.”
Bucky is silent for a moment. He’s still not convinced that you and your husband aren’t bad people. “He did business with the wrong people. It’s his fault.”
Sam bites his tongue. “Bucky, just protect her. Y/N doesn’t deserve to die because of her husband’s mistakes. Remember, she’s an innocent bystander.”
“Right.”
“James Buchanan Barnes,” you repeat his name twice. “I knew I heard the name before.” You chuckle darkly. “The man telling me that my husband was evil did unspeakable things himself. You killed innocent people hiding behind a different name.” You sneer. “Only because you don’t call yourself the Winter Soldier anymore doesn’t change your past.”
Bucky is frozen to the spot. His past can’t be undone, but he tried to make amends as best as he could. Now you look at him like he’s some kind of monster. You out of all the people dare to hold his past against him.
“What? Cat got your tongue. Doesn’t feel good when someone judges you only because they read shit about your past, huh? Well, shit darling. I won’t stop digging out your past, babysitter. If you want me to stop, go and leave me alone. Send someone else to watch over me!”
“How did she find out about me and my past?” Bucky hisses at Sam. “I thought she got no access to a phone, TV, or the internet.”
“I can read, and have a very good memory,” you smirk darkly at Bucky as you walk inside the kitchen. “You didn’t live under a rock over the last years. I saw you more than once on TV. The hair is shorter now, though.”
“Y/N,” Sam tries to stop you and his friend from arguing again. “What the soldier did wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He got brainwashed and…”
You raise your hand to stop Sam from arguing with you. “Ransom didn’t become a criminal on free terms either,” you grit your teeth. “He tried to do business and make some money. My husband didn’t know he got himself into trouble by doing business with that monster.”
“He’s still a criminal,” Bucky grunts. “He did all of this for money.”
“Says the man claiming to be innocent, even though you killed hundreds of people. They threatened to kill Ransom and me if he didn’t do as they said. He was a victim, you were just…” you huff and turn to leave. “A monster hiding behind your friend Captain America.”
You know it’s not fair to call Bucky a monster. All the things you read about him tell you that he was a victim.
You just can’t bring yourself to admit that he was a victim too while he treats you like shit, and keeps on telling you your husband was a criminal…
The widow (2)
Tags in reblog.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#tfatws!bucky barnes#The Widow (1)#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader
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even tho armin so toxic..yall still be having the best make up sex everrr!! Im talking about him like all up in your ear moanin n groanin,telling you how sorry he is and how much he loves that pus pus.Just for him to repeat the same shit again!😭😭
hello!!!! 😭😭😭 because armin is just not going to do right for shit idc! But he ain’t got to when he got good dick.
content warning: toxic ass sex, breeding and pregnancy mention, daddy’s used a few times, dacryphilia, squirting, bulging
you could fight with this man for the entire week. Blowing up his phone, getting into fights and even kicking him out after his ten thousandth screw up but nothing was ever going to change. You were attached to one another in the worst way possible. Especially when he came through after the smoke cleared and made amends in the best way he knew how..
“ ‘Minnnn… ‘s fucking deep in this pussy..shit! Feels so good..”
“I know it does, I can tell by the way you’re squeezing, baby. You don’t want me to pull out, do you?”
a question he already knew the answer to before you even spoke. Your cunt clamping down and spasming with each deep stroke he delivered. Positioned perfectly on his right hip with your body angled ever so slightly onto your side as well so he could hit your spot with precision. Keeping a hand planted gently in the center of your torso, Armin left a trail of kisses along your jawbone, filling your head with all sorts of deceitful things. Promises he never planned to follow through on, apologies that didn’t mean a thing and of course, his favorite thing to say when he had you at your most vulnerable:
“Got me all in your stomach..pressing through that skin. Makes me wanna get your fine ass pregnant—you’d look so pretty with my baby inside of you, sweetheart. I just know it..”
the words causing you to come unglued; breaking at the seams and all of your resolve shattered. You had caved in the worst way. Not only allowing back into your home but your bed, your body and now your mind as well. What was it about him that made you believe every word he said?! He wasn’t faithful, he was always more hassle than he was worth but there was one thing that Armin done better than anyone on this earth and that was make you feel like you were ascending. Fucking you so good, you’d thought you saw heaven! Even if he put you through hell for the rest of the time together..
“You gonna let daddy come in that pussy? Please?…you just feel so warm, I don’t wanna leave it..”
pleading to you all helpless with his hand stroking the side of your face, keeping your gazes locked together. Meanwhile, he was still pounding up into you. His strokes growing faster with each passing second and that slight bump still appearing at the pit of your lower belly. Cream sloshing all around his shaft and making a mess of him and the sheets. Suddenly, a tear fell from your eye and he’d be quick to swipe it away with his thumb and quell you with a barrage of sloppy kisses. Telling you how much he loved you and how sorry he was for stressing you out. But he wouldn’t do it again..so as long as you let him nut inside of you. Right now, you’d believe just about anything if he kept fucking you like this. Reaching down to rub your clit, Armin suckled on your neck and tried to stifle his own moans but to no avail and it was then that you truly couldn’t resist.
“This dick is yours, baby. I belong to you and only you..promise. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes!..fuck..”
“And this pussy? It’s mine, right? No one else can have it..get you this wet. All me?”
“Yes daddy! It’s your pussy..take it.”
all the confirmation he needed because only seconds later, you’d feel him come to a complete halt and suddenly, he’d go quiet. That was until he let out a loud grunt along with a giant load of warm, sticky cum. Pulsating inside of you with rope like consistency. As if he had been waiting all week to do that. The inviting warmth making him drain every single drop into that little womb. Probably fulfilling his earlier promise of making you carry his child. Even so, you were just still floating on your own cloud of afterglow so you didn’t care much about the consequences at the moment. Only being in his grasp and being fed all his pretty little lies.
“Thank you, baby. I needed that so much and I know you did too..I love you, (y/n).”
even if he didn’t mean a word.
#cherry’s asks 🍒#aot x black reader#toxic armin#armin headcanons#armin imagines#armin drabble#black fem reader#armin x fem reader#armin x black reader#black reader#black reader smut#armin smut#armin attack on titan#armin x reader#arminarlert#armin artlert imagines#armin artlert#armin x black fem reader#armin x y/n#attack on titan armin#armin snk#aot au#armin x reader smut#no way this man got me up foaming like a rabid dog at 7 am#but here we are#cw breeding#cw smut#cw toxic relationship#mature cw#queued posts
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the thing about mr. hatter is that he is a black hole of a character. we know NOTHING about him except that he was proud of his daughters and sent them to a prestigious school, and went heavily into debt for it. we don’t know how he treated his daughters, or if he paid them any attention for anything other than scholastic achievement, or if he had an obvious favorite child; all we know about mr. hatter is how his death affected his family. and I think the lack of personal information on mr. hatter is a choice that diana made on purpose.
because without telling us that mr. hatter was a bad father or a unrelentingly strict man, without including a single scene where he shouts at his daughters or acts coldly to his young - very young - new wife, she leaves space for us to slowly realize what is not so obvious, what sophie herself does not recognize or understand about her family: that none of the hatters truly know each other, only the roles they have played for so long.
the death of a beloved and loving father would have been deeply grieved. fanny would have been inconsolable. sophie would be shedding green silme, so to speak, left and right. lettie would have taken to her bed. martha would be sobbing in her friends’ arms.
instead, what we see in the aftermath of mr. hatter’s death is this: fanny goes about her business, briskly gets each of her daughters settled in a trade, and then wipes her hands clean of the hat shop and marries agains, within three months of her husband’s death. lettie is full of anger and rebellion and runs away from her apprenticeship; martha blames fanny for all her problems - and lettie and sophie’s too - and runs away from her apprenticeship.
and sophie.
never says a word about her father once he dies. does not miss him. does not think about him, not ever. only regrets leaving her prestigious school. and goes into a sharp depression that has nothing to do with losing a beloved family member and everything to do with seeing a promising future that she’d worked so hard for taken away.
this was not a happy family when mr. hatter was alive. diana never tells us so, but you can tell from clues she sprinkles in throughout the story that mr. hatter was not a kind or even particularly moral man.
the most glaringly obvious sign of dysfunction in the hatter family, of course, is that immediately after his wife died, mr. hatter married fanny, his youngest shop assistant, who very soon afterward gave birth to the youngest hatter daughter: the implication being that he had been having an affair before mrs hatter died, and that he carried on with fanny, who was probably no older than sophie herself when she entered that hat trade, who was no position to tell him no and had few choices she could make for herself.
there is sophie’s intense perfectionism and dedication to the hat trade despite hating it, a sign that mr. hatter probably demanded perfection and obediance from his daughters.; she probably worked equally hard to achieve good grades and accolates at school. notably, neither martha nor lettie regret leaving their school - but neither of them seem to have internalized perfectionism to sophie’s degree.
there are mentions of sophie frequently acting as a caregiver to martha and lettie; she has become a partent-figure towards her sisters and even fanny, who is not much older than she is. and it’s clear that sophie has deeply internalized that sense of parentification and duty - she stays late at the hat shop, well after the other employees leave - and can’t force herself to abandon the hat shop until she becomes an old woman, because she believes fanny needs her to keep working. sophie so deeply believes herself as worthless unless she is serving others that she becomes a housecleaner in the very first place she finds, and then spends the entire book scrubbing howl’s floors and sweeping his rafters, keeping herself so busy that she never has a chance to wonder why she thinks she is only valuable when she gives every part of herself to others.
this is a family that keeps secrets from each other - lettie and martha plot to subvert fanny’s and mrs fairfax’s plans, sophie runs away from home in disguise because she is afraid of her family seeing her as she truly is - they ALL hide from each other. fanny does not really know martha or lettie or sophie’s true natures, she makes assumptions about what trade each daughter would like to be settled in; sophie herself is shocked to learn a new side to her sisters when they subvert their destiny. and her perception of fanny is shaken through the book: sophie looks at her and is surprised to realize that fanny is still young and pretty and wanted more in life than a hat shop, just like sophie herself, but had done her best for her girls with the resources that she had at the time.
howl’s moving castle doesn’t tell the story of a grieving family who rises above the loss of a beloved patriach - it would be quite a different book if it was. instead, it’s the coming-of-age story of four women who finally have a chance to learn who they truly are, instead of who they thought they were supposed to be.
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Alex Keller meeting civilian reader scenario
Masterlist
Ok, so I'm well aware, that Farah exists, and I respect all those, who ship her with Alex. She is the queen, hands down. But I wanted to do a series of “COD men meeting civilian reader”, so sorry guys, this time you, readers, get him.
The reader is just a small nervous overthinker here. So that's where all this "veterans" stuff comes from. I usually bear an AFAB reader in mind, but, I think, I've made no specific allusions to the gender of the reader here.
You didn't like this whole idea from the start. From the very moment, when a friend of yours paused from laughing on your joke and turned to her spouse.
"Babe, you know, who has a tad similar sense of humor? Alex does..." - yeah, that "Alex does" didn't sound good to you. This wasn't the first time these two had tried to end your quiet single life by introducing you to someone.
"Alex?" - you tensed up.
"Yeah Alex. He is a friend. A good lad.", they both grinned at you. "Good lad" was a very bad sign. A sign that this "good lad" was only a few minutes apart from getting your number from your friends.
"No. I'm done with this. The last time was... THE LAST EVER!", you really were hoping, you would convince these two to leave your single ass alone in your happy hiatus. The last guy they tried to set you up with turned out to be a disaster!
"I promise, it's not like that this time! He is funny, has a charming personality, absolutely your type, I think you even have the same tastes in music, if I remember correctly" - your friend started rambling.
And just when you were about to interrupt her with a reminder that you are too old to date guys based on the same taste in music, her husband added 4 words that made you stumble.
"He is a veteran."
Now that was a problem...
No, you didn't disrespect or dislike people with such a background. And by no means, you could even think to discriminate them. If anything, they deserved endless respect, gratitude, care and love. But you weren't naive. You understood that the life of such a person could turn into hell if he was not supported by someone incredibly strong. And you did not believe that you would ever become such a strong person. Damn, you had sometimes problems coping even with yourself.
But you also could never say, "I'll never speak to a guy, just because he is a veteran". No way.
So you sighed and thought to yourself, that you'll just meet him once, be nice and friendly, thank him for what he was doing, shake his hand and buy him a beer.
That's why you agreed to this date, albeit with a heavy heart.
So you ended up at the bar waiting for this guy on a chilly autumn evening.
You were still questioning yourself if it was even fair to go on a date that is meant to be the last one (and only one participant knew it for sure), when you heard someone call your name behind your back.
You turned back and froze for a moment.
Why did this guy had to have an absolutely disarming smile and those charming clear blue eyes and barely noticeable precious freckles?
Your brain seemed to short circuit, because all you managed to answer was "Oh..."
"I prefer Alex, but if it's a happy "oh" - I'm ok with that too" - he grinned and gave you a friendly hug.
And at that moment you knew, you were gone.
Well, maybe there was a tiny bit of hope for you... What if the guy was just a jerk? This would make stopping any interaction easier for you. "C'mon, help me out here, man, please!" - you desperately thought as the date began.
He didn't help you. Not at all.
As promised: he was funny, charming, wildly beautiful and... warm. Not "formally friendly", but really, sincerely warm.
In an hour, you didn't even feel like it was a date. You were just chatting with your old buddy.
And yes, he got all your jokes. The way he laughed, closing his eyes sometimes, just made you weak.
You even forgot to worry about all that "Oh no, how do I pay respect and show gratitude to the veteran" stuff. He made you feel comfortable and relaxed.
Well, at least until he caught you staring at his tattoos, when you thought, he looked in the other direction.
"Wanna see the rest?" - he smiled and rolled the sleeve of his shirt up.
You were a blushing, apologetic mess, till he turned it all up into a joke.
"C'mon, it's not every day, that I catch the attention of someone so adorable. Just pretend, you are interested and ill be reminiscing on how I showed you my ink for the rest of my life and boost my self-esteem" - he chuckled.
Oh, his sweet, a bit raspy little laughs.
He looked you right in the eyes, but somehow didn't make eye contact uncomfortable.
You didn't even notice how time passed until it was time to say goodbye.
"Did your friend already give you my number? No? Ok, time to fix this!" - he takes your phone from your hands and writes something down there. Then he laughs softly and makes a funny face at the camera.
When he returns the phone to you, his number is written there and there is even a funny photo on his contact.
"Alex "Oh" Keller".
Well, of course, he wrote his name down that way.
"Our mutual friend said that you somehow take the military too seriously. Here's a reminder for you that we are just goofballs in a uniform sometimes."
When you came back home, you opened a chat with your friend. Of course, she already spammed you with a ton of questions on how did you like Alex.
"What did you tell him about me?!"
"I mean... thanks"
"Hes perfect", you type, but then delete and type instead "Really, thnx!"
#alex keller#alex keller scenarios#alex keller cod#alex keller x reader#alex keller x you#Keller cod#alex keller headcanons#cod x reader#cod scenario#cod headcanons#cod x you
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I think Mark is like… a vampire or something, does he ever sleep?
He is on every GMMTV SHOW!! I just keep thinking of that clip of him in school president when am he says “ I’m playing the vicar, the father and every other character” (or something like that! I forget!
so……. Would you like to Rate the shows Mark has been in? 👀
Anon, I cannot rate the shows Mark has been in because if Mark is in them, they have to be good, but I will rank them based on how much I loved Mark in them because I think he is beautiful AND talented (which is why this badminton world champion is on my list of GMMTV's best actors).
Ranked - Mark Pakin's Series
Honorable Mention - Cooking Crush - Dynamite
I think Aungpao is doing a great job as Dynamite in Cooking Crush, but I can't help but think what it would have been to see Mark in that role as originally intended. It sucks that Mark is overbooked, which I'm assuming was the reason he couldn't commit to Cooking Crush since he was filming Last Twilight, but it's a good problem to have for such a talented man, so I hope he continues to stay booked and blessing me with his face on my screen each and every year.
#8 - High School Frenemy - Chatjen
This show was barely announced, so it's possible it might not even make it to air, but that's not why it's last. The show is a remake of a Korean series, and word on the street is the original was not gay, like at all, which is wild since the entire pilot trailer for the Thai version seemed very homosexual to me! There was a rooftop and everything! But it also looks like our boy is about to be bullied, and I'm not here for it. Therefore, LAST!
#7 - Bad Buddy - Chang
Mark played in Bad Buddy? Notice that is a question and not a statement because, although I don't remember a lot of Bad Buddy because we have beef, I truly only remember Drake and Jimmy as friends since I wanted them to be a couple (Korn x Wai ghost ship!). I wasn't aware of either Marc or Mark playing Pat and Pran's friends. Mark was there when Pat got shot. Mark was there when they told Pran that Pat got shot. He is in the photo outside of the hospital room because Pat got shot, and I still am like, "Was Mark really in the show?"! I even had to look up what his character's name was on MDL. I still don't believe he was in it. I don't care what Our Skyy said. This is the Mandela Effect.
#6 - I Promised You the Moon - Mek
I do remember Mark in I Promised You the Moon, so this ranking is purely because I'm petty and got beef with this series, specifically Teh, which means Mark has to suffer too. Mark played Mek who was Teh's roommate. After Teh FUCKED UP, Mek was nice to him when he really didn't have to be because Teh was being an ASSHOLE to him, but that's why I loved Mek. He could've thrown hands with Teh in that room, but instead gave Teh some tough love by telling him his crying was annoying, and he needed to get it together. Then, he invited Teh to go eat with him. He still could've smacked Teh though and cemented this as Mark's number one role.
#5 - Last Twilight - Night
The only reason this is ranked this low is because I haven't had enough of him in the show. He is not the lead. He is a supporting character (AS USUAL, GMMTV!), so I can't expect him on my screen every single second, but I need far more of him in the last quarter of this series. Also, the show is setting up Night to be the cause of Day's accident, but it's too late for me to feel bad about any of this. I needed to know that information by episode three. Now we are over halfway done, Mork and Day are fulfilling the gay agenda, Phojai is about to get a rich husband, and Night is going to inherit a beautiful family, so let bygones be bygones, and GIVE MARK A LEADING ROLE ALREADY!
#4 - Only Friends - Nick
If I was really petty, this wouldn't have even been on the list because Nick should have been so much worse. He recorded Boston and Top having sex. He told Mew about Boston's non-consensual sex tape. He lied to Boston. And yet . . . I wanted him to do more! Nick could have blackmailed Top. Nick could've ruined Mew's life. Nick could've hurt Ray via Sand! Nick could've been a baddie, but instead he was a saddie. Mark finally got to kiss a homie, but at what cost? I feel Mark could've done so much more in this role. Honestly, all the actors could have, but they were held back, so here Nick sits in the middle. Not good. Not bad. Just average.
#3 - My School President - Thiu
This 'fit alone deserves our recognition because Mark was playing a high schooler yet looking too fine in this top. He needed to put that hotness away around those children. But in regards to his character, as you mentioned in the ask, he was EVERYTHING! He was trying to keep the student council solid since Tinn was too busy crushing on Gun. He was playing matchmaker. He was dating Por all season, and this is not up for debate. He was a director for the band's music video and was basically their manager. Homie was doing it all and still had time to look fine. What a guy!
#2 - Moonlight Chicken - Saleng
I wrote an ode to Saleng being my Thai primo. He lived for the chisme and was the biggest shit starter in the family, yet Li Meng called him first after the accident, and he was right there when their community mother passed away. Aof, who is behind Moonlight Chicken and Last Twilight, really let all the characters shine in this series, but Mark did amazing with the little amount of screen time he had, which gives me hope that his Last Twilight character will rise in the rankings as that series comes to a close. This role was so good that I was torn between this and the one I ultimately selected as number one, but honestly, both roles could be number one depending on my mood. Do I want family-oriented fun times Saleng or do I want . . .
#1 - The Warp Effect - Jedi
The entire cast of The Warp Effect was elite status. Every character was great. Every storyline was good. Every discussion about sex was outstanding. But Mark as Jedi lives rent free in my head, specifically the scene where after working out, he fucks his girlfriend from behind over the kitchen counter! Then, he experiences pain because he has a STI! This leads to an entire education about open relationships, sexual health, communication, and trans healthcare since his girlfriend is trans. Jojo was the screenwriter and director for both Only Friends and The Warp Effect, so I like that both of Mark's sexier roles are due to Jojo's vision, and I hope Mark gets to work again with either Aof or Jojo because Mark is at his best when he is allowed to play an adult man who knows what he wants and how to get it.
And believe me, he could get it.
#Mark Pakin#this man is beauty and grace#and he could slap me in my face#ranking his characters#because why not?
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𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝕮𝖆𝖌𝖊
pairing: Hawks/Keigo Takami x gn!reader
word count: 0.9k
warnings: cockwarming, teeny bit of praise kink, soft sex, being wrapped up pretty snug in his wings,
notes: ty to @bakugous-sandbag for thirsting with me about snuggling up by the fire with Keigo & just always indulging/putting up with me in general <3
I am so sickeningly in love with this bird man sdgsdfs
"Be a good bird and move f'me. Just a little, yeah?" Keigo coos into your ear, warm hands exploring every exposed inch of your body, setting your skin ablaze despite the chill trying to seep into the room. The blaze from the roaring hearth and the plush rug beneath you has only helped so much, but this. This is the type of warmth that bleeds into your bones.
You can't help but to obey such a saccharine request. Your hips begin to grind and it feels so good. It's a glorious reward for the both of you after sitting still in his lap for so long, faithfully keeping his member cozy and warm. The way he twitches inside you upon finally discovering some sweet, sweet friction is intoxicating. It spurs you on to see the way it's driving him wild—and you've hardly moved yet.
"That's it, baby. Yeah...jus' like that. Fuck," he curses through grit teeth and you can see his Adam's apple bob, feel the gentle breeze from the way his wings ruffle and flutter behind him. Golden irises that are normally so sharp soften, unfocusing and becoming hazy with desire as his attention turns solely to the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around his throbbing cock.
"Kei," you whisper to coax those golden eyes to your face, a warm smile pulling at the corners of your lips and his, as well.
"What is it, baby?" He asks in a dulcet tone. The noise is like smooth velvet tickling your skin while his nose nuzzles so delicately against yours as you trade your sensuous sounds.
"I love you," you reply as easily and with as much certainty as you've ever said anything in your life.
And even though it isn't the first time that he's heard you say such a wonderful thing, he still reacts like it is.
His fingertips glide along your back, traveling up so that he can fully encircle you in his arms and pull you flush to his chest to cradle you like the treasure that you are. The one that he still can't believe he's found. He'd once compared it to stumbling across the Fountain of Youth. He hadn't ever bothered to search for a love like yours, because he had no reason to believe that it even existed and yet here you are, breathing new life into him every single day.
The orange glow of the fire is drowned out by red. A carmine cage of comfort and kindness coming to swallow you whole as the welcoming plumage of his wings ensnares your body. You quickly decide that there's no safer place than right here, folded in the arms of your lover, your hips moving in tandem with his as you both give and take, exchanging a never-dwindling amount of love and passion between your melded forms.
"I love you more," he breathes, a rasp to his voice.
His hips shift upwards with enough force to bounce you in his lap and his toned arms seize you a little tighter, catching you while he shifts his weight forward and lowers you gently into a down bed of his own design.
"K-Keigo," you gasp at the change. The new position offers you a different sensation that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and inspires prickles down your spine, causing you to shiver against his sensitive wings.
"I know," he promises, a soothing shush.
And he does. He knows exactly what you want and he gives it to you generously. His abs flex, drawing taut while his perfect form collides with yours. Hips rolling, steady and smooth as the waves of the tide lapping at the soaked sand of the shore.
"C'mon, baby," he murmurs as he leans in to kiss along your jaw, feathering kisses to that sensitive part of your neck that makes you shudder when he slides his tongue against it. You can tell that he's close and he knows that you are too.
Your features contort, drawing up tight before you explode. Your eyes pop open, your jaw feels like it might become unhinged from the sheer force with which you open it to cry out, "Keigo!"
The symphony of noises that you bless his ears with drives his tempo faster. The sound drives him insane. It guides him right up to the precipice of madness and demands that he move his hips faster, lest he vault straight over the edge of that cliff.
"Shit, baby," he chokes the words out as he follows you into oblivion, mindlessly driving himself into you again and again while he clings to the sound of you still sobbing so sweetly for him.
He gradually slows his pace, stilling his hips once it starts to feel so good that it nearly hurts. He rolls onto his side, keeping you wound up in his wings and his reliable arms to pull you in once again. Always trying to get just a little closer.
"I love you," he offers up another resolute reminder, lips moving against your forehead while the pads of his fingers whisper the same promise against your heated skin in their own way.
His heartbeat thuds against your ear. Your smile grows against his chest. His wings finally unfurl and his arms lazily drape around your form, but you feel no less held by him. No less protected. No less loved in the aftermath.
"I love you more."
likes, comments, & reblogs are very much appreciated! <3
#hawks x reader#hawks smut#hawks x you#hawks x y/n#keigo takami x reader#keigo x reader#mha smut#bnha smut#mha x reader#bnha x reader#takami keigo x reader
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König x Male Mutant Reader
Woah! Sirius is writing again instead of posting art? Yeah, I have COD brain rot so have more König and male reader.
NSFW WARNING (NSFW UNDER CUT)
Warnings: 18+ mdni, THIS IS FOR MALE READERS so ass/dick anatomy, handjob, Handler/Mutant, German words (I used google translate, please don't come after me
It had been a long day. You were totally done with everything. You had been training new handlers on how to use signals with your handler König, and every single person couldn’t understand basic nonverbal signals. You were getting more and more fed up with each wrong signal and König knew it. He sent you back to your barracks with your tail between your legs.
Once inside your room, you sat down on your bed and flopped onto your back. You couldn’t believe the nerve of some of the trainees, treating you like a dog and not like a human. I mean, yeah, you were a dog hybrid, but you were still human! You thought back on how König reacted whenever one of the trainees disrespected you. The thought of him yelling in the trainee’s face was causing your cock to stir in your pants. You groan and shove your face into your pillow and sigh. You should take a cold shower to stop this. You have a meeting soon and you want to be able to focus on the meeting 100%. You thought to yourself for a bit and groaned as you got up. You hate taking showers, at least the dog part of you does, but you don’t mind it.
As you walk down the hall with your shower supplies heading to the bathroom, your mind continues to wander back to your handler. You had always liked him, hell, the whole reason he was your handler was that you picked him. The first time you made it to KorTac you clung to his side. His smell was the most calming you had ever come across. Because you refused to leave his side for the first month he was trained to be your handler. As you got used to KorTac and all the members you were finally able to sleep in your own room and not in König’s.
In the showers, you were happy to see that it was completely evacuated. I mean, it should be. Everyone was training, being trained, or working out. You place your shower items in the shower and turn on the water. Although you were coming here to take a cold shower you absolutely hated the idea of cold water so you were just going to take a hot shower and hope the problem went away on its own.
You step into the warm water and let out a sigh as all the tension leaves your body. You take some shampoo in your palm and rub it into your scalp. You couldn’t help but remember when König had showered you when you were too scared to be alone on base. His hands in your hair, his smell so close to you. Your cock twitches and you groan. You decide to take this matter into your own hands, literally and figuratively. As you place your hands on your throbbing cock you let out a small whimper. You bite your lip to try and be quiet as you thrust into your hands. You try to imagine that your hands were König’s calloused hands, that he was talking you through it.
“Just like that Meine Liebe. You’re doing so well Welpe.” You could practically hear him mumble into your ear. Your knees tremble and you let out a small whine mumbling his name as you felt yourself getting close.
“(Y/N)? Are you in here? Are you okay?” You hear the man you were just fantasizing about say. You jump and immediately put your back to the shower curtain just in case
“Yes Colonel, I’m alright.” Your face was hot and you could feel yourself trembling.
“Are you hurt Meine Welpe?” You could hear him walk outside of your shower and sit down on the bench next to your shower caddy “I could hear you whimpering from outside.”
You take a deep breath “Y-Yes Colonel, I’m fine, I promise.” your words dripping with embarrassment
“I heard you call out my name, are you sure?” König said. You could practically hear the smirk on his face. He knew. He knew and he wanted you to say what you were doing.
You let out a shaky breath “C-Colonel…”
König laughs “kleiner Welpe, Would you like my help?.”
You feel yourself shiver “H-Huh?!” shock courses through your body but your cock jumps. You can hear the sound of clothes being removed
“Would you like me to join you kleiner Welpe? Like good old times?” He says referring to the times you had taken showers together as handler and mutant. You can hear something in his voice, you don’t know what it is just yet.
You let out a small whimper “Please?” as the shower curtain opens your tail tucks between your legs in embarrassment. You could hear König chuckle and wrap his arms around your waist
“mein kleiner Welpe.” He mumbles as he kisses your neck “I have been dreaming of you. Not as a handler and mutant, but as more.” You can feel your face flush a deep red.
“C-Colonel” You start but König covers your mouth
“It’s König from here on out Schatz.” He says as he continues kissing your neck. You whimper and feel one of his hands trail down to your cock.
“Look how hard you are, alles für mich.” he kisses behind your ears “alles für mich.” He keeps your mouth covered as he starts pumping your cock licking and sucking on the area where you usually had your collar. Your moans and whimpers get caught in his hands and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel his calloused fingers stroke your sensitive skin.
“Feels good Meine Liebe?” He asks between kissing your neck. You nod your head whimpering. You can feel his smirk on your skin “Gut, so gut für mich.” You squeeze your eyes shut as you buck into his hands feeling yourself close. Your whimpers start to get louder and he bites your shoulder
“Shhhh mein guter Welpe. Don’t want anyone else finding us, do you?” He whispers into your ear. You bite your tongue and can feel yourself on the edge. A few more strokes from König and you fall over the edge. Your legs tremble and König lets go of your mouth.
“How do your feel mein Welpe?” You look up at him and look into his eyes taking in his maskless face for the first time. Your eyes take in all his features, the stubble you felt against your skin, his hazel eyes, the eyeblack running down his porcelain skin, and his long brown hair.
“Why did you help me C-König?” you ask confusion written on your face
König smiles and kisses your cheek “Because I’ve fallen for mein Welpe. I know a bad way to confess, but when I heard my name pathetically falling from your lips, I just had to come and help.”
You smile and your tail starts wagging, thumping against the shower walls.
König laughs “Lets hurry up meine Welpe. Don’t want to miss the meeting now, do we?”
You nod and stand up grabbing your conditioner. König grabs your Shampoo “I hope you don’t mind if I use your products. I didn’t plan on taking a shower now.”
You smile and laugh “Go right ahead König, I don’t mind.”
#fanfiction#konig x reader#könig cod#könig call of duty#konig#könig#könig smut#könig x reader#könig mw2#konig x male reader#konig cod#konig smut#könig x male reader#male reader smut#male reader
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Among the Sun Ch 18
Description: You allow Miguel to sleep beside you, but he does not sleep well.
Also, everyone check out the fanart of ATS!Miguel drawn by the amazing @smokeywhalee!!!!!!
Ch 19
Miguel watches your silhouette dance behind the paper-thin privacy screen, the folded wooden structure, its uppermost edges decorated with your clothes both from earlier in the day and those you will sleep in. Your graceful hand reaches up, tugging your nightshift down, the candles dimly lighting the room casting shadows across the floor, distracting him momentarily. It allows you enough time to emerge from behind the screen, clad in a soft pink, your hair loose about your shoulders, skin fresh and clean from the bath.
Miguel pulls the thick duvet over his lap, biting the inside of his cheek to will his cock to soften, focusing on the pain as he attempts to banish all lustful thoughts from his mind.
“Are you well? You seem pained.” You say, the bed dipping ever so slightly when you slip into the space beside him.
“Yes.” It’s almost a grunt, the strained sound the escapes him when your hand rests on his bicep, concern radiating from every inch of your being.
“You did not lie to me, did you, Miguel? You must tell me if you are in pain.” You insist, your grip tightening, fingers so small and delicate compared to the muscles of his arm, not even able to wrap around half the circumference of his arm.
He is in pain, but it is not the pain you speak of. It is the pain that comes from deep desire. The hunger of a starved captive finally presented with food, of a wild beast pouncing upon its long hunted prey, of a man returning from war to find his wife in bed, ready and waiting for him.
Miguel could lie to you. He could cage your body with his own, beg you to take mercy on him, allow him to sink within your folds blabbering some nonsense of how your warmth is the cure for his aliments, but he will not. He promised that nothing untoward would occur.
“I am not in pain.” He tells you, laying down on your silken sheets, leaving a respectable distance between you and him.
You do the same, turning to face him, sleep already tugging at your eyelids, and settling over your form. “That is good, then.”
For a moment he is ten and six again, laying in the sand, your hand in his as he whispers his secrets to your sleeping form.
“I must enter the games, y/n, mother says I have no choice, it was her dying wish.”
You did not stir; your breathing is soft and even. The sound and the quiet crashing of the waves made his eyes grow heavy.
“I fear for my life, I am strong, a skilled fighter, but I have no title, no name, no patrons, or allies. I will be despised, for I am the emperor’s bastard. But Mamá claims the throne is rightfully mine. I must believe her…right?” He brushed his hand down the curve of your cheek, eyes drinking in every minuscule detail, attempting to memorize your face.
In your unconscious state, you leaned into his touch, shifting closer to his warmth.
“If I do not dream of you during the games, and you do not dream of me, will you forget my face, my voice, my touch? I shall never be able to banish your visage, your very being, from my mind y/n, but I fear I will be stolen from your waking memories.” He whispered, heart heavy with grief and fear. “You must remember me, I will win the games and I will claim you as my prize, my wife, all I ask is you remember me.”
Your eyes fluttered open; brows furrowed with confusion. “Miguel, why are you not asleep?”
He smiled at you, dragged you through the sand until your body was pressed to his. “How can I sleep when such a beauty lies before me? I do not wish to miss a single moment with you.”
You smiled bashfully up at him. “You have such a way with words, I never know what to say.”
“Say only that you love me, it fells me swifter than any arrow or blade.”
“I love you.” You said easily, the words rolling off your tongue with such sweet simplicity that he feared he might melt into the sand.
“And I you.” He replied, pressing his lips to yours gently, the taste of sea salt in your kiss. The scent of ocean air gently drifting around you.
You pulled back, and your smile began to fade, replaced by a confused then pained expression as you sat up, hand going to your abdomen. It came away bloody, trembling, then you opened your mouth, and a horrid scream was unleashed from deep within you. You screamed as your skin blackened, burning, charring, your veins turning to rivers of molten fire, and above you stood Kron, a wicked smile on his face, his eyes glinting in the cold moonlight.
“Move, you worthless whore.” He snarled, kicking your still convulsing body to the side, a dagger dripping with poison clutched in his hand.
Miguel scrambled over to you, dragged you into his lap and cradled your head, his own bent low. “No, no, y/n, mi vida, please, please, open your eyes. Do not leave me, please, please y/n…”
“Did I not tell you I would kill everyone you loved? Though I had my doubts, a half-breed mutt such as yourself could even feel love. Perhaps lust is similar enough for your twisted soul? No matter, soon you will join her, and that wretched creature you call mother in the pits of Hades.” Kron laughed, raising his dagger high, a maniacal gleam in his eyes.
Miguel lunged, rage and grief surging through him, fangs bared. He wrested the dagger from Kron’s hand, blinking sand from his eyes and brought it down into Kron’s chest, over and over, and over again, until he had gone silent. Then he cast it aside and crawled back to you, draping his body over your own, and wept bitterly, praying the tide would rush in and consume him.
Miguel sat up with a start, the scent of blood in his nose, his hand reaching out for you. Your side was empty, sheets cold, duvet pulled up as if you had never been there at all. Panic seizes him, wraps around his lungs and up to his heart, squeezing until he fears he will drop dead.
“Y/N.” He calls into the darkness of your room, only silence echoing back at him.
His mind racing, he throws back the duvet and dons a robe, tying it tightly, and he scans the room, searching for you. Had it all been a dream? Was he truly alone, unable to find you? Or had you been taken from him?
Miguel pulls back the duvet on your side of the bed, cold fear shooting down his spine when he finds blood. He wastes no time rushing out of your chambers, if someone had taken you surely Gabi was next, if they did not have her already.
His footsteps make little sound in the hall, but the sound you make when he collides with you echoes off the marble.
“Miguel? Why are you not asleep?” You ask, startled, but laughing slightly at your fear once you recognize him.
He nearly falls to his knees before you, wrapping you in his embrace, hands anchoring themselves in your nightshift. “My y/n, I—you were not in bed, and there was blood.”
“My apologies, I left to ask one of the servants to come and change the sheets in the morning, my moon blood arrived while I slept.” You say, embarrassment coloring your tone.
The fear slowly drains from him, and he releases you, taking your hand in his as he leads you back to your chambers.
“I did not mean to give you such a fright.” You say, a half step behind him.
“You did not.” He lies, blatantly, not wanting you to think him weak.
“Your hands are shaking.” You say softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand.
They are, and he curses himself for it, going to pull his hand from yours.
You catch it, and fall in synch with his steps, holding it to your chest, so he can feel your steady heartbeat. “Do you wish to speak of it?”
He shakes his head. “No, it is better left in the shadows.”
You hum a note of disagreement but relent, and soon you are tucked into his side, hand resting on his chest, duvet pulled up, covering you both.
Miguel will not sleep; he will not close his eyes until the morning sun peeks through your lacy curtains. He will wait and watch, Kron is dead, he knows this, but sleep will not return to him this night, and he does not find fault with that.
TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22, @ray-rook, @lollipopin, @faexsins, @drefear, @scorpihoooe
#meg's writing#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#half demon!miguel#emperor!miguel#princess!reader#among the sun#ats#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n
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Prompt: I know my pain is such an imposition.
Song: You're Losing Me - Taylor Swift
For Kaz x Reader??
English is currently not my first language, incoherent screaming is.
Walk Away, Take My Heart With You - Kaz Brekker
Content Warnings: Angst. Heartbreak. Unhealthy Relationship And Communication Habits. Canon Complaint Violence And Threat. Not Beta/Proof Read.
Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?
I'm getting tired even for a phoenix
Always risin' from the ashes
Mendin' all her gashes
You might just have dealt the final blow
"Kaz are you even going to look at me?" You ask. Kaz doesn't, he keeps his eyes to the ground, walking in that consistent rhythm despite the pain it must cause him. That repeated tap of the cane on the cobblestones, a sound you hear in the back of your mind like a melody, you know you'll hear it even still when it becomes nothing more than a memory.
Stop, you're losin' me
Stop, you're losin' me
"Kaz Brekker, stop right now," you say, stilting your own movements. You're walking the length of the harbour, and you're done chasing after him. You've done nothing wrong, not that you ever really have to get him riled up at you. He'd need to communicate with you why he is mad but he never seems capable of that.
Stop, you're losin' me
I can't find a pulse
"I swear to the Saints Brekker if you don't stop and turn around now it is the last chance you'll get to do so," you snap, and your voice carries on the wind. He hears you, clearer than a gunshot and his walking stills, but he does not turn around. You don't move to meet him, you're done meeting him at a distance. There are so many things when it comes to Kaz that do not hurt you, things that you can tuck away and love him not in spite of but as well as. The fact he can never touch you, it leaves space for longing, for wishing, but it would never have you step away from him. His history, his demons, they don't scare you, and you know they should. You can love him, knowing all the reasons you've been told you shouldn't.
But this, this cold, unrelenting anger, this shutting you out and down and cutting you off without warning, without giving you the smallest clue as to what you've done, if you've even done anything at all. This is what is killing you.
There was a time when you thought there wasn't a thing in the world you wouldn't do for The Bastard Of The Barrel, but you've finally found your line, your limit, and you can practically hear Nina's voice in the back of your head telling you "it's about time."
"You do not give me orders," Kaz says and every other sound across the harbour is silenced. You are alone, painfully alone in the darkness, nothing around you and Kaz but the cannel and all the broken promises of hope between you. His words remind make something snap within you, and you realise once again, just how alone you truly are.
My heart won't start anymore
For you
'Cause you're losin' me
"You know, Brekker," you say, staring at his siloutte in the dark, "one day I will have been gone long enough, I will have put enough distance between us, that I will forget your name, I will forget your face, I will forget each moment, each day, every single second spent with you. You won't even be a memory."
You don't mean it, you don't have the strength inside you to mean it, but you know if you don't walk away now, you're never going to, and you have given all the chances your heart can take on a man who doesn't want to love you, even if he does.
"I long for that day," Kaz says in return before continuing his path into the darkness. You should have expected nothing less. You should have expected worse. Kaz is filled to the brim with harsh words and cruel intentions. You've seen first hand everything he is capable of, you know exactly what he could do and why he would. But you had thought, you had let yourself believe that there was more between you than could be torn down with one bad mood and some words. But you're left in the harbour tying to pull yourself up from the stones like he has left you to bleed out on them.
And the air is thick with loss and indecision
I know my pain is such an imposition
"I know Kaz can be... Kaz," Jesper is saying hovering around you throwing your stuff into a bag, "but you can't be leaving."
"I've been meaning to leave a long time now Jesper," you remind him.
"I thought you changed your mind," he says. You had. You had changed your mind, you had decided the barrel was your home, that what you had found here would be worth staying, that the world couldn't offer you what you have found at the bottom of the barrel. But you can't stay with your heart being target practice every time you pass a corner and expect to see him there.
Now, you're runnin' down the hallway
And you know what they all say
You don't know what you got until it's gone
"I can't stay," you tell Jesper, turning to face him. You try not to linger on how sad those eyes look, usually so filled with optimism. Jesper is scrambling to look for the right words but he comes up short.
"Look, I know none of us are great at... talking with each other," Jesper says, "but Kaz... I cannot imagine how he is going to be if you leave."
"It's not my responsibility to make him into someone who can talk to me Jesper," you say, "it's not my responsibility to fix him." You sigh, your bad feeling so heavy with the added weight of your pain. "I didn't want to fix him, I just... I wanted to believe that he loved me, but he can't be happy in the knowledge he does. It makes him angry, his feelings for me feel like a sickness to him, and I cannot stand around, loving him when him loving me makes him hate himself."
Jesper knows there is nothing to be said to that, he remembers the time he nearly brought down the Jam Tart House to nothing more than ashes when the Razergulls felt it a good idea to try and make a move on you as an act of violence against The Dregs, The Crows more specifically, and Kaz the most. Kaz had been all Dirtyhands that night, eyes like a shark smelling blood in the water, and violence that had the blood painted red. But when you'd arrived back at the slat, split lip and rope burned wrists you'd tried to thank him, but he had rebuffed you. Jesper could not understand the scowl on his face as Kaz had looked at you, for someone who had been willing to burn everything to the ground before he looked so inconvenienced by your presence. "Did you really think I’d be happy to see you?" was all Kaz had to say to you.
"I've forgiven him too many times already," you say, more to yourself than Jesper, "but there are only so many times someone can trespass against you before you realise that they don't see you as someone they need consider in their actions. I love Kaz, against every sensible fibre in my being, but I cannot love myself and love him at the same time, not with how he loves me now."
"I am going to miss you," Jesper says, leaning back on his heels.
"Jesper, I am going to miss you the most," you say, squeezing his arm, "don't tell the others."
Stop, you're losin' me
Stop, you're losin' me
Stop, you're losin' me
Kaz doesn't bother to look up as Jesper pushes his way into his office unannounced, having a very good idea what the intrusion is about not really wanting to engage in the conversation at all, especially with Jesper.
"You want them to leave," Jesper says.
"They will do whatever they want to do Jesper," Kaz says, "you should know that by now."
"You are pushing them away," Jesper says adamantly. "And that is... Boss I am going to speak out of turn."
"When don't you?" Kaz asks, finally bothering to look at him as he leans back in his chair.
"We are all broken Kaz,-,"
"Jesper do not presume to know anything about how I feel or what I think," Kaz cuts him off.
"Kaz, you can get as mad at me as you want, Saints fire me if you must, but hear me when I say, you do not want to do this."
I can't find a pulse
My heart won't start anymore
For you
You're back at the harbour, waiting now, waiting for something entirely different than the last thing you waited for on this stretch of stone. Your way out, instead of a reason to stay.
You brain is playing the memory of Kaz's steps that night over and over, the tap tap tap of his cane on the stone. "I've arranged you passage," comes Kaz's voice from behind you. The sound you now realise wasn't entirely in your mind.
"One good deed doesn't erase all the bad ones," you respond, not turning to look at him, scared to see him, scared that if you see him all your composure might fall away.
"I know," Kaz says, and his voice that is usually so steady, so laced with intent, is uncertain on its words.
"Why are you here Kaz?" you ask, keeping your eyes on the water.
"To make sure you leave," he says, wrapping his hand over the crow head of his cane, the tighter the grip the tighter his throat feels, the more he thinks he could drown in his own bitterness, right here next to the canal, and what an irony that would be.
'Cause you're losin' me
'Cause you're losin' me
Stop (stop) 'cause you're losin' me
"I know my pain is such an imposition." You take a shuddering breath. "But I do not regret staying in Ketterdam, I need you to know that."
"Will you regret leaving?" he asks.
"Will you regret not asking me to stay?" you say in return before walking off, as he had that night, not giving you a chance to say anything in return, you pay him the same curtsey.
He stands there, watching you go. Jesper is right, of course he is right, and he knows that, and he doesn't doubt that deep down you know that too. But it isn't what matters. You need to leave, you need to be far away from Ketterdam, from The Barrel, from The Dregs, from him. You need to be somewhere where the world isn't threatening to pull every last piece of good from you at any given opportunity.
And for all his wants and his selfishness, if he has to make you hate him to ensure you leave, that is exactly the price he is willing to pay, even if you take the best parts of him with you as you go.
#shadow and bone#grishaverse#six of crows#kaz x reader#kaz brekker x reader#kazzle dazzle#kaz brekker
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The Best One - Benny Miller x f!Reader
Pairing: Benny Miller x f!Reader
Summary: You and Benny are best friends, but one night together changed everything. Protecting your own heart, you decided it's best to forget. Problem is, Benny doesn't want to - and truthfully, neither do you.
Word Count: 3.5k
Rating: Explicit
Content: Language, Santi is an asshole, idiots in love, friends to lovers, PiV sex, public sex
A/N: I listen to "Best Ones" by Garrett Hedlund way too much, sparking this idea. I present...my first Benny Miller smut. Enjoy!
Masterlist
“Then she took my dick in both her hands and sucked the soul out of my body.”
Benny rolls his eyes and shifts in the booth, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. He cannot bear to look at Santi, but he is stuck here, listening to his nonstop blabbering about his recent sexcapade. His eyes drift upwards to the light fixtures in the ceiling as he desperately tries to focus on anything other than Santi and his stories. But one thought springs into Benny's mind before he can push it away: her…down on her knees. It's a memory he had vowed to bury and never uncover again, but that hasn't stopped him from thinking about it - especially now.
She broke their hungry kiss by pushing against his chest. He tried to pull her back, but she shook her head and slowly dropped to her knees, keeping her gaze locked on his. She was too impatient to do more than tug his jeans down far enough to get what she wanted. His cock sprung free and she wrapped her delicate hands around the base before rubbing the head across her luscious lips. Fuck, she looked so beautiful. When she opened her mouth and took him in, he groaned with pleasure, her cheeks hollowing as she hungrily sucked him. He threaded his fingers through her hair and fucked her greedy little mouth, her name the only thing on his lips as he-
“What about you, Ben?”
Benny is pulled from his memory by the sound of his name. He looks to Santi, realizing he was asked a question.
“What about me?” he asks, feigning ignorance, not really in the mood to satisfy his curiosity.
“You gotten laid lately?” Santi asks.
“Well, no… I mean, yes. I mean, I’ve gotten some,” he stutters, his face going red as the words escape his mouth. He realizes he sounds like a teenager lying to his friends about having had sex.
“Oh, really?” the older man questions, his brows raising in surprise. “When’s the last time you got laid?”
“A few weeks ago, I guess,” Benny says, shrugging his shoulders.
First, he had Santi’s curiosity. Now, he has his full attention. The man sits back in his seat, watching him with interest, as if he doesn't believe him. “Does she have a name?”
Of course, she has a name. Her name is the perfect complement to her delicate beauty, sweet and gentle. He wishes he could speak it aloud now - the sound of her name on anyone's lips is music, a beautiful melody that sends shivers down his spine.
But he can't.
Nobody at the table knows a thing about his secret encounter with her, and he promised himself that he wouldn’t tell anyone what happened between them. Not even Will. If anyone has their suspicions, Benny is oblivious to it. Besides, there’s nothing to talk about. It had been a single night of passion fueled by alcohol and desire that now belonged in the past, best left as it. She had made it clear that she wanted nothing more. In fact, it sounded like she regretted that anything even happened.
"I'm sorry, Benny. Just forget this ever happened."
Perhaps it would be easier that way; it’s already been several weeks, and it seem she has moved on. He realizes how much he had overestimated her feelings for him. She's always flirted with him, but maybe it was just innocent. That realization kills him. To him, she is everything, but to her, he's just a man – a friend.
Maybe it's best if he moves on and never speaks, never even thinks, of the night again.
But it's impossible - especially when she walks through the door right then.
You slip into the bar and look around, hoping to easily find the boys somewhere in the crowd. As expected, they’re sitting in their usual booth, beers in front of them as they seem to engage in some sort of conversation. A smile spreads across your face as you move toward them.
A warmth floods you when you notice Benny looking at you, his blue eyes shining even in the dim lighting of the bar. You bite your lip and push the memory of the night the two of you shared away. You can’t think of that right now. You can't think about that ever. You can’t think about the way his hands felt on your body, holding your wrists down…and you definitely can’t think about the way his lips felt against yours as his cock shoved every thought out of your head.
You break your gaze and push the thought out of your mind as you walk to the table, forcing yourself to remember that there will never be anything between the two of you, that you two are friends – that you’ll never be anything more than just friends.
“Hello boys,” you say, slipping into the booth next to Frankie, careful to avoid catching Benny’s eyes again. “What did I miss?”
“Benjamin here was just about to tell us about his latest encounter with some saucy señorita,” Santi informs you.
Your heart sinks as you think about Benny with another woman. All color drains from your face and your stomach twists. You know he doesn't have feelings for you, but did he really move on from that night with you that quickly?
“Oh,” you say, feigning interest, trying to keep your best poker face.
“Negative,” Benny replies harshly. “And I sure as hell ain’t about to allow this conversation go any further with a lady present.”
You furrow your brows in confusion. Sure, Benny isn't one to strut around like a peacock - that's more of Santi's thing - but he's also not one to keep tight-lipped.
Santi laughs. “A lady? Her mouth is just as filthy as yours, Ben. So, go on. Tell us more of your adventures. I’m sure she’d love to hear them."
Benny rises from his seat quicker than you’ve ever seen him move, not even in the ring, his face flushed and angry as he glares at Santi. “Back off or I swear-” he growls, tone hard and threatening
Will stands between the two men, looking at his younger brother, holding up a hand to stop him from advancing further towards the other man. “Don’t finish that sentence."
“Can we drop whatever this is, please?” you suggest. Things have been awkward enough lately. The last thing this group needs is strife between Benny and Pope too.
You watch Benny's chest rise and fall with every measured breath. You ache to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin. He catches your eye and you quickly look away, feeling embarrassed and allowing your hands to sink into your lap.
“There's no story to tell,” he says, and you feel his glance on you before turning and walking away.
“Fuck,” Santi sighs, breaking the silence before raising the bottle in front of him and taking a sip. “He needs to save that shit for fight night.”
Frankie gives Santi a sharp whack on the back of his head, making the latter sputter out out his beer.
“Cabrón!" Frankie hisses. "No es obvio, o estás ciego?”
Fortunately, you don't catch the words. Otherwise, it would become obvious that everyone but Santi has picked up on the awkwardness between you and Benny. It really shouldn’t be a surprise that Will and Frankie suspect something happened between you two. You both have been quieter than usual lately, talk to and about each other less, and whenever your eyes meet, you both quickly look away, a telltale sign that something is amiss.
“Excuse me,” you utter before rising from the booth, moving to follow Benny outside. You open the door and search for him, spotting him making a beeline towards his car.
“What the hell was that?” you demand, trailing close behind him.
“Nothing that concerns you,” he replies harshly without losing stride.
“Really, Benny? How can that not be my concern?"
“It’s not your concern because it’s none of your business,” he snaps, whipping around to face you.
You're taken aback by his sudden hostility toward you. “How can you say that?” you question, stepping toward him. “You’re my fiend, which means you're my business."
Benny rolls his eyes, which sets a fire in you.
"You’re my god damned business, Benny," you reiterate. "You always have been. I know you better than anyone, and I can tell when you’re upset. So, talk to me.”
His eyes are filled with a mixture of emotions, his face an expression that is a cross between exhaustion, hurt, anger. “I can’t talk to you about something that never happened. I mean, that’s what you want, right? To pretend it never happened?"
You freeze, his words striking you like a punch to the gut. The realization stings you, the reality of what he’s saying finally clicking in your mind. The reason he didn't want to talk about his last sexual encounter was because it was with you.
“I didn't mean it like that,” you reply, crossing your arms protectively.
“Then, can you tell me what you meant? Because clearly, I'm confused.”
You hesitate before speaking, unsure why you said the things you said the morning after. It’s clear that you can’t forget what happened, and you don't want to, but you also don't want to risk ruining your relationship with him and the others, even though it appears that you have already made a complete mess of things.
"Benny, our friendship means a lot to me and I don't want to-"
Benny snorts. “Friendship? Does this look like a friendship?" He's referring to the way things have been the last few weeks. "Our friendship changed the moment you kissed me...and it was destroyed when you ran away, my come still dripping from between your legs.”
Your mouth falls open, Benny’s harsh words hitting you like a slap across the face. You’re not sure if he’s ashamed of what happened, or upset that you’ve been denying it. Either way, you know he’s right: your friendship is fucked.
"I was scared," you confess, tears forming in your eyes. "Terrified that it would ruin us. I had to be the one to put a stop to it, to set boundaries for our friendship, because if you'd been the one to say we should just be friends, it would've broken me.” You take a breath, trying to maintain some control of your emotions. “I'm sorry, Ben. I know things will never be the same between us. If I could go back and change what happened, I would. Please. Can we at least try to move on from this?”
"No," Benny ultimately answers after a moment of silence. His voice is choked with emotion, the gravity of his words heavy in the air.
You look away from him, trying to hide your hurt, but it's too late - the tears streaming down your face speak for you.
"That night was…,” Benny begins. “It's been playing in my head every single day since then, like a movie I can't stop watching." His breathing is ragged as he continues, the intensity in his eyes growing with each passing seconds. "I know I should forget about it, and I know you want me to forget-"
"Ben, that's not-"
"But I’d kill to live that night just one more time," he speaks, his eyes wet and filled with emotion.
Your lips part in surprise as Benny's admission sinks in, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. The way he’s looking at you though makes you feel like the most wanted woman in the world. It's making it impossible for you to keep your walls up. You’ve wanted him for so long, it’s hard to tell how you could ever turn him away. But you were so afraid that he didn't feel the same way you do.
When you shared that one night together, you told yourself it was the alcohol, the adrenaline, the emotion of the night that pushed you into it. You told yourself a thousand different excuses for why he hooked up with you. You told yourself you both were just caught up in the moment. You told yourself it wasn’t real. You told yourself that Benny could have any woman that he wants - there was no reason for him to choose you. But now, standing before him, watching him stare at you, seeing the look in his eyes, hearing the tone of his voice, you wonder if you’ve been blind to the truth all along.
Despite all the fear and uncertainty between you two, there was something real that happened that night - something neither of you can ignore or deny any longer.
“What are you saying?” you whisper, needing to hear him speak his true feelings, plain and clear.
“I want you,” he tells you. “I’ve always wanted you. You’re beautiful and smart and funny…and you drive me fucking insane. I can’t be in the same room with you without feeling like I am seconds away from taking you right there. I can’t think about anyone else. You are it for me. You are my person…and it fucking kills me that I’m not yours.”
As you look at him, perplexed, it dawns on you that the two of you are both harboring strong feelings for one another, yet completely oblivious to that fact. Has it been this way the whole time? The flirting, the touching, the constant need to be near one another. All these years of friendship...
Laughter bubbles up within you in disbelief, spilling over and out into a fit of giggles.
“What’s so damn funny?” he questions, staring at you like you're crazy - and maybe you are.
“Don't you understand, Benny? You are mine,” you reveal, wiping your eyes in an attempt to compose yourself.
“Bullshit.”
“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember,” you reveal. “Apparently we’re both too damn stupid to see what’s been right in front of us all along.”
Benny's eyes widen as he looks at you, processing your words. You can almost see the sense of relief wash over him, knowing that his feelings are reciprocated. A smile spreads across his face.
He takes a step forward, the softness in his eyes quickly turning dark. He’s standing mere inches in front of you, the heat from his body taking you by surprise as it washes over you. My stomach whooshes, and I ache as I wait for him to kiss me, but no kiss comes.
“Say it,” he commands. "I need to hear it. Please."
You take a step closer to Benny, your eyes never leaving his. You grab hold of his button-up shirt, pulling him toward you. Meanwhile, his hands fall to your hips, as if by instinct.
“I love you.”
Benny pulls you closer to him, his lips finally meeting yours. A fire sparks inside of you and you open your mouth to meet his tongue. You’re positive that you only imagined the way his mouth felt on you before, but it can’t be anything like this. It’s like your lips remember him, yearning for him even though several weeks have passed. You moan against his mouth as you cling to him, your body desperate for his touch.
A low growl escapes Benny's lips as his mouth grazes your neck. You lean against his car, feeling intoxicated from the sensations in your body, as your hands explore his shoulders. You feel a giddy thrill, unlike anything you've ever experienced before. His kisses move from your neck to your shoulder, and his hands wander lower. But before things get too carried away, Benny pulls away suddenly and stares into your eyes. He then reaches behind him and opens the back door of his SUV.
“Get in.”
You smile, biting your lip as you slide into the back seat, Benny close behind. As soon as he closes the door, he pulls you onto his lap, and kiss you soft yet urgent. His hands journey down your body, lightly tracing down your arms, across your thighs, over your shirt. He doesn't unclothe you; instead, his palms rest on the curve of your ass as your hands push up against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. You grind against him, pressing yourself down onto his lap as you feel for his arousal. A groan escapes between his lips, and it turns more primal when he clasps your butt tighter. Your mouth moves hungrily against his for several bewitching seconds.
You take the initiative, starting to open his jeans. Your fingers fumble with the button and zipper before you pull down his boxer briefs and free his cock. Benny tilts his head back in pleasure as soon as a hand wraps around it, and he looks down for a moment to watch you stroke him before looking back up at you as your lips press against his. Benny whimpers into your kiss as he reaches out to find the center of your legs, caressing you through the fabric of your pants.
“Baby, please,” he begs.
You lift up and pull your pants down, just enough to expose yourself. Benny follows suit, pushing his jeans down until they are around his ankles. He wastes no time, running a finger through the folds between your legs before you can sink down on him.
“Benny!” you gasp, clutching onto his shirt.
“Now who’s the fucking tease?” he asks before sinking two fingers into you, eliciting a gasp from you. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet.”
“Benny,” you plead, leaning your head forward until your forehead touches the top of his hat, the texture of its fabric rough against your skin.
“Tell me what you need.”
“Fuck me.”
He nods and grins. “Alright. I’m going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
His straightforwardness causes you to gasp. You can feel yourself dripping for him in anticipation. How could he possibly fuck you better than he did before?
"Then I’m taking you home. We'll spend the night together, make love until we pass out. When sunrise comes, I won't let you go. In fact, I plan on making love to you all over again. Got it?"
You nod vigorously, your mind whirling. Somehow, you manage a reply. “Okay.” It’s simple, but a promise that you'll never leave him again.
Benny pulls his fingers away then positions himself at your entrance. He eases himself into you, your eyes rolling back for a moment before finding his. His lips meet yours again as he slowly pushes deeper into you. You moan against his lips. His movements are smooth and slow, gentle but still raw and powerful.
Your movements match his, rising and falling, your breath in sync. You moan, Benny’s lips finding your neck. He buries his face against you, laying desperate kisses all along your skin as you ride him, faster and faster, letting the intensity build.
“You’re mine,” he rasps before nipping your ear.
“I’m yours.”
He slides a hand up your body, lifting your shirt and your bra with it, exposing your breasts. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. You gasp, feeling your body tense. You feel that familiar tingling sensation start to consume you.
Benny unlatches then looks down at where your bodies join before looking back up at your face. "Look at you," Benny says, his voice low. "Look at you taking my cock. You're gorgeous."
You can't see yourself, but you don't have to. His gaze is burning into you, and it’s like he can see every inch of you. His eyes devour you with hunger, desire, and admiration. You feel beautiful in that moment; dirtier than anything you thought possible.
“I want to watch you come on my cock,” he tells you.
“I’m s-so close.”
Seeming to sense what you need, he moves a hand between your legs, his thumb finding the spot where you’re pulsing.
As you rock on top of him, his eyes never leave you, and the intensity of his gaze is nearly enough to send you over the edge. You can feel yourself getting closer, the anticipation building up inside you until it explodes in a shuddering climax that almost makes you forget who you are or where you are. You cry out, your breath coming in pants.
Benny presses his lips against yours as he slows his movements, and draws out your pleasure until you collapse against him, utterly spent.
You feel the heat of his body, pressed against yours, and the pleasant sense of fullness with his cock still buried inside of you. The air is filled with the smell of sex and sweat as the two of you stay there together in blissful silence for several moments before Benny speaks.
"Fuck, that was amazing," he says softly. “You're incredible. You’re perfect. We just…we have to work on our communication a bit. if we want this to work.”
You chuckle, snuggling against his chest with a contented sigh. This is what happiness feels like - warm and comforting, completely enveloping the two of you in its embrace.
As Benny's breathing begins to settle, he tightens his grip around your body slightly and whispers into your hair:
“In case it wasn’t clear… I love you too.”
#benny miller#benjamin benny miller#benny miller x you#benny miller x reader#benny miller x female reader#garrett hedlund#garrett hedlund fanfiction#garrett hedlund characters#triple frontier#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier fic#catie writes#kinktober 2023#friends to lovers#idiots in love#idiots in denial
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something quick!! cause ive been thinking about THEM A LOT HEHEHE.
They talk until the sun comes up.
Though Jon begs for her to retire, to tuck herself beneath the furs he offers, she shakes her head- perhaps out of fear, or perhaps out of joy. In those first few hours that pass since their reunion, she cannot bear to separate herself from this single man, from the only family she has left in this world. She cannot bear to unwrap his fur cloak from her shoulders and slip away, perhaps only to wake in the morning to be alone once more.
And so, together they sit tucked away into the rooms he’s slept in all these years, just an arm’s length apart, her smile shy and his gray eyes as stoic as she recalls them to be. They talk of it all- of his time in the Night’s Watch, of his regret of not heading South to save their father, of not joining Robb in hopes of protecting him from his untimely fate. She tells him of the abuse she once suffered in King’s Landing, of watching their father’s head bounce on the ground, of her clothes being cut away before all of the court. She can’t yet bring herself to speak of the other horrors- the ones she suffered in their childhood home, inside of Winterfell. “It was that awful Lord Slynt that did it,” she whispers, recalling as well as ever the sight of the ugly man forcing her father down to his knees, holding him there. Jon’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat. “He held father down so Ser Ilyn could take his head.” Her eyes are wide and glossy, her rosy lips curving with a frown; in that moment, he can picture her as she must have been that day- a naive girl full of hope, that in the end, all would work out as it was meant to. Instead, Sansa had been made to watch their father have his head struck from his neck in the most gruesome of ways, to witness the blood splatter the concrete, to watch it bounce until it lay still at the feet of the men who took it so easily.
Now he only wishes he’d made the man suffer more.
“I took his head myself,” Jon says quietly, twisting his hands in his lap.
She looks up, surprised, but a smile takes root, once which he’s certain he’s never seen before. “I dreamed a hero would do such a thing,” she admits without blushing, reaching for his twisted hands, calming them there in his lap. She’s thinking of those stories she’s long since left behind, the ones she believed could never come true, the ones which she wishes she never bothered to believe in. Someone who is brave and gentle and strong. Her father’s words come so suddenly she’s shocked by them, drawing her hand away from Jon’s as if struck by lightning.
“I should have come for you,” he whispers, his most prominent of regrets.
Again she’s smiling, shaking her head. “You’re here now,” she says as if this were enough, and in truth, it was. Even if they could never return home, even if this was all they had left for the rest of their lives, it would always be enough. “And I am better off for it.” She cannot imagine what would become of her if Jon were not alive, if Jon were not here now. This time it is Jon reaching for her, hesitantly, as if he worries what his touch, a man’s touch, might do to her at this moment. But she knows she is safe, she is loved, and she does not shy away from his touch. Not now, not ever.
“Aye… As am I…” He murmurs, tightening his grip on her hand, marveling at how perfectly hers fit within his. In truth, in the lingering days since his resurrection, he’s found little reason to be as he was now… That was until her arrival. Just like that, with just her arrival, his life has found some sort of meaning once more. The dark world in which he’s been living is once more full of vibrant color. Though he once thought he’d be better off dead, he’s thankful to once more draw the breath of a living man. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reminds her and she squeezes his hand, a silent answer.
“I know,” she says, something like a promise.
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