#it is just a fraction of that reflected beauty
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Back and Forth - part 6.2
Part 6 - Back-Up 2/2
Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 14500 (cough-)
Chapter summary:
In which it's your turn to look back at the events at the Hydra base and have a revelation or two. And some of these involve a certain Captain.
Series masterlist
Warnings: blood, mentions of canon-typical violence and injuries and possible death, unhealthy relationship with pain, mentions of chronic illness, issues with self-worth as a courtesy of a completely shitty parenting, language, feels and fluff ✨ Please, let me know any time if you think I missed any!
A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance
A/N2: hello, loves, thank you for your patience and enjoy nearly 15k worth of words. Ehm. If you want to break it into two parts, I recommend you to do so at the change in POV (but know that it's in like 2/3 of this part 🥲) Enjoy ✨
The swirl of delicate fabric around your ankles came with a soft swooshing sound, a faint glimmer catching your eye as the light reflected off the sparkles peppering your dress. Warm hand between your shoulder blades holding you securely to a firm body, the other cradling your hand gently. Gaze trailing from the bowtie over the faintest hint of stubble and plush lips curled in a barely-there warm smile, bright eyes soft with affection that still sent butterflies flipping their wings like mad in your stomach. The subtle caress of his thumb over the silver of skin revealed by the tiny opening of the dress on your back causing you to shudder, heat pooling in your abdomen.
He noticed the effect his minute touch had on you. He must have, the loveable bastard, because his smile earned the familiar innocently wicked edge, his pupils dilating just a fraction, his thigh slipping between yours further with the next step, firm muscle feeling like a teasing taste of heaven against your centre.
“Steve-“
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips at your ear, brushing down the sensitive skin of the column of your throat, the masculine scent of him enveloping your senses, your head tipping back to make space for his demanding lips. The graze of his teeth had you whimper, hips rocking against him, a soft menacing ‘oh doll’ rolling off his tongue before all pretence of what used to be a dance was gone, hand slipping to your lower back, encouraging you to press into him further, his other hand releasing yours in favour of cradling your jaw and leading your parted lips to his hungry ones. “My beautiful doll… I’ve got you.”
You sighed as you could already almost taste his lips, a tingle burning on your own, instinctively chasing after the pleasure they could provide when you felt their warmth retreat.
You winced when the touch of his hands disappeared too, all but a brush of fingertips remaining, wet and sticky; flash of crimson on his skin, startled gaze, sharp orders followed by words of soft reassurance whispered between heavy breaths, intrusive acrid smell of copper and chemicals causing you to scrunch your nose. Blue and purple of your gown turning black, pristine white shirt torn and drowned in terrifying red; a flash of glowing symbols, an absurdly evil smile replacing Steve’s face in your vision. Gunshot. Body flying backwards. Gun going off twice more. The world tilting to side. Heavy, painless crash. Beeping. That goddamn fluorescent lamp.
A gasp.
You blinked your eyes open, acutely aware of the twitch of your fingers feeling uncertain and heavy.
A dimly-lit room with a few bright points.
A flicker of grey and rust-like red on your right, flash of white on your left. A lab coat.
You drew in another sharp breath, startled, pulse hammering in your temples in fright; Doctor Barret. You were still-
“Well good afternoon, Spectre. You with us for a while this time?” a familiar voice asked, causing you to snap your head from the white coat worn by a doctor who was most definitely not Doctor Barret when you actually looked at him. Even as the menacing glint in Hydra’s doctor eye still flickered in your mind, your brain registered you got a glimpse the pleasant neutral face of a man you vaguely recognized as one belonging to the AI medical team, before you turned your eye to the right.
There, you were met with a subtle smirk on the face of a redhead; Natasha Romanoff, the world’s deadliest spy, a title she was perhaps sharing with Agent May.
Uncomfortably vivid flashes of memories flooded your brain as you were coming to, your heart racing; but upon seeing Natasha, you felt your body relax into the bed. Because you were in a bed – and you were most definitely not in a Hydra facility, but at the Tower’s med bay.
They had come to the rescue. Daisy had come. And probably many other too; you recalled voices, shouting, hissing, whimpering, a glow behind your closed eyelids-
You shot up on your bed, biting back the dull but very intense tug of pain in your thighs as you sat up with a startle. The glow.
“The artifact! Natasha, they can’t touch it, we don’t know-“
A gentle hand landed on your arm; you didn’t realize how close she was standing until she touched you, your heart, having jumped in fright at the mere idea of someone else getting tangled in the mess Kree artifacts tended to stir, pounding wildly at what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture.
Was that even safe, touching you? What if she got involved by merely doing that? What if the power somehow transferred---
--alright, that didn’t make any sense, because the brainless sadistic Hydra jerks had touched you as well, probably with no consequence, but-
“Relax. Breathe. The artifact is taken care off, locked up as of now,” Natasha stated calmly, her eyes roaming your face with what you were pretty certain was concern, even as she retreated her hand. “Doc, could you-“
The doctor – you were quite sure his name was Doctor Cuesta – excused himself in an instant, promising to check on you later and left without protest. Such was the power of Natasha Romanoff’s words; no questioning an order or even a request, just following it.
Some might find it odd, but to you, such behaviour was nothing new – you’d expect nothing less.
The baffling part of the scene would be the presence of Natasha by your bedside. That itself made for a peculiar but warm feeling in your gut, the only plausible reason for that being that she had come to check up on you; but it was another thing entirely to allow yourself to realize that the probability of you waking up the one moment she was here before she’d move on to tend to other things was almost absurdly low.
Which meant she wasn’t only checking up on you, but actually was spending some time here. And that was a hard thing to swallow, even as it tasted a little sweet.
The rational part of you was very firm in its reasoning that perhaps she and other Avengers took turns in your room just in case a new side effect of the power switch appeared and needed to be tackled, and now it was simply Natasha’s time.
The reckless part of you, the sentimental fraction of that part of you, shyly suggested that she was simply here because she cared. It wasn’t entirely unheard of that she was capable of feeling, naturally. Ater all, she had let a few people peek behind the hard shell of the Black Widow, Bucky Barnes making the top of the list.
It was just rather strange that you were included in that group of people at all.
And yet.
It still wasn’t the strangest thing about the whole scene.
As relief flooded your veins, the most acute fear having been soothed for the moment since you were no longer in Hydra’s clutches, you noticed that the already surreal scene – with all your senses in overdrive and dulled at once, probably due to whatever meds they were pumping into you through the i.v., which you had only just noticed – was a full fever dream. Because as the doctor left, your gaze caught on another person in the room. One that had had to been there the whole time, silent, only an echo of his harsher breaths having been reaching your ears, too quiet for you to notice before. And his cerulean eyes were firmly set on you, a tired minute smile on his lips.
The one person whom your very next words would have concerned, because your thoughts were consumed by him as well.
He was wearing a sling on his right arm and shoulder, a butterfly band-aid over what was probably a cut over his brow, a dark shiner on his cheek. Dressed in a simple grey hoodie and black sweats, he seemed as hulk-like as usual, even if worn to a bone and slightly hunched in his chair; but intent as he rose to his feet, stepping closer to your bed.
Now his presence was truly puzzling, even as it shouldn’t be, you supposed. Despite that, however, confusion was a feeling firmly pushed out by a very different sentiment, a whole sea of it.
Your shoulders sagged as you felt tension you hadn’t been aware of melt off your body; because he was okay. Well, as okay as one could be after what you had been through.
Steve was okay.
You were alive. Both of you.
And you were home.
Safe.
Despite the raging storm of sensations and emotions that seeing him stirred, it was relief that crashed into you with enough force to turn your eyes uncomfortably glassy.
It was over. It really was over.
There must have been so much mess to sort through; you had no idea where you stood with the powers exchange, had even less of an idea about where you stood with Steve, Captain Rogers, The Mighty Captain, the jerk, the kindest soul – but the horror was over.
Hydra would not shoot you in the head; Hydra would not cut you open and dig around in your body with glee, discovery that required experimentation. Not today.
And Steve was okay.
“Hey,” you whispered, the single word slipping off your lips unwittingly, causing his smile to widen, his eyes lighting up with life – and with a speckle of concern. Because of course he had noticed your tears welling up a bit.
The flash of a memory of his eyes, truly glowing with something, affection and desire, had your cheeks burn and your stomach flip in as much excitement as shame; that had been just a dream. A very, very nice dream that you could surely blame on medication just in case you had been making any embarrassing noises.
However, if you had, Steve didn’t mention it. Instead, he greeted you with a ‘hey’ in return, with a gentle sound of your name.
The feeling in your belly stirred by that had nothing to do with shame this time; the corners of your lips turned upwards without conscious effort. You felt fresh wave of heat rise to your cheeks; it was no doll or sweetheart, but it wasn’t Spectre either, nor Agent.
Wherever you stood with him now, it wasn’t at a distance; and it wasn’t on a battlefield where you’d face each other either.
The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you from what probably looked like embarrassing gazing, Natasha’s lips curling up further in concerningly knowing amusement.
“As I was saying. No need to worry about the artifact now. Between the glowing, live feed, Steve telling us and Johnson being able to recover the draft of the message you were trying to send from the auction, we knew enough to keep our hands off,” she explained. “And if that wouldn’t have done it, Johnson had a few colourful curses for us when she saw the symbols, mostly about all things Kree, so that was quite a dead giveaway.”
For all the new information, the corners of your lips twitched at the last piece of it. Of course. You could imagine that after everything that happened especially to Daisy, she would have had a plethora of swearwords at her disposal for such situations.
It wasn’t like your last shared Kree escapade had been kind to you either; you might have not been mind-controlled by an ancient Inhuman named Hive to turn against your team like she had been, but you had sort of been the person who turned out to be the SHIELD agent from a vision of the future Daisy had once been offered; stuck on a quinjet aimlessly flowing through space right before the craft exploded. The memory of body-wrenching invasion, Hive’s clutches having been slowly seeping into your spectre even as you had been snapping back from the quinjet so your spectre wouldn’t end scattered all over the Milky Way, still made you shudder and had made for recurring nightmares.
For a single alien race, Kree sure had messed with your life enough for ten lifetimes already.
Chasing away the dark memories, you latched onto another piece of information; Steve had told them about the artifact. That meant he had been conscious when they had picked him up, or at least hadn’t been unconscious for long. Certainly not longer than you. Which meant that even though he looked a little worse for wear – he was beautiful still, it truly was unfair, you’d bet you looked like an utter mess, while he looked like a warrior demi-god who needed a little nap – he truly was mostly fine.
You couldn’t but wonder if the serum was the reason for that.
“Fair enough,” you hummed absently before your gaze turned back to Steve, drawn to him like a magnet.
He was still smiling a bit, the concern evident on his face; it reminded you of the way he had watched you back in the cell and despite the cold fear that had gripped you several times back there, all you felt now was warmth; because the flash of dreadful memory of blood and pain digging into your mind came with a soft memory of his tender touch. Unfairly, beautifully tender touch of his hands that had not been strictly limited to treating your wounds.
You cleared your throat, attempting to snap your mind back to the present and much more business-like reality. “So… the artifact is safe, locked away. Does that mean we’re back to normal? We’ve got our abilities back?”
You should probably be able to tell on your own; but with no doubt generous dose of medication in your system, evaluating the intensity of stimuli to your senses was… rather difficult.
Steve’s smile grew an even more tired note when Natasha shot him a meaningful look at your question and he shook his head, causing your lips to part in surprise.
“Not yet,” he said simply, returning Natasha’s glare before he fully turned his attention to you, moving to the left side of your bed. It felt like you had an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other; and despite their looks, Steve’s hair always resembling a halo and Natasha’s being distinctly devilish red, you weren’t sure who was which. Why weren’t you back to normal? Why- “First, we’re not sure how exactly the artifact works and we’re not risking anything before Agent Campbell goes through the archives and Jiaying’s notes. Secondly… frankly, we think we should stay like this a little longer. We agreed you could definitely benefit from more time with accelerated healing. What do you say?”
You opened your mouth and then closed it again, no sound coming out. Your gaze flickered back to Natasha – it seemed she had quite a lot to say about that, but she didn’t make a sound. At least not here, not in front of you.
Guilt instantly bit into your stomach.
The longer you benefited from the effects of the serum, free of pain, the longer Steve suffered, caught in completely unnecessary pain. The latter was simply unacceptable and the former… well. That was always a dangerous thing for you to trifle with. Painless days – even as you were not completely pain-free now – were a thing of dreams you’d easily grow used to. You never had tried heavy drugs for the fear of having your performance messed up, but ever since you had gained your powers and discovered what they entailed, you imagined painless days as a mixture of heroin and morphine; euphoria and relief.
You’d soon start craving that cocktail once you wouldn’t be able to get your hands on it. The sudden absence would cause absolute havoc in your life.
But even if you accepted that; it wasn’t fair at all. It wasn’t fair at all that Steve should suffer consequences of your abilities and its faults. You understood the concerns about unpredictability of using the artifact, but besides that, it shouldn’t even be a subject to discussion.
So you couldn’t say you didn’t understand Natasha’s meaningful look at Steve or her stance; except perhaps you didn’t. Because when you dared to meet her gaze, fully expecting reproach, she was smiling instead, perhaps a little exasperatedly; and while you had misjudged her behaviour before, she appeared genuine in her concern. She might not like seeing her friend in pain in the slightest, but she heard the argument loud and clear. And perhaps, whether one could call you something akin to friendly colleagues or not, she didn’t revel in seeing you in pain either.
Yet, Steve saying they had agreed, whoever the ‘we’ was supposed entail, felt like a farce.
You might be on pain medication, the world slightly hazier than normal, but it was abundantly clear that Stevewas the one who had decided and accepted no counter-arguments. He could get like that sometimes. The infamous ‘everyone’s input counts, don’t be afraid to say your piece, we are a team’ of his flew out of the window if he felt strongly about something.
And he apparently felt very strongly about this.
You gulped as you gathered courage to look at him again, a not-so-quiet voice whispering sleazily about how pathetic you were and about that being the reason why he wanted to wait with the exchange. About how he had seen you at such a low point he could never believe you were good enough for any mission ever again, deciding that you were weak and needed all the support you could get to even survive, to even-
-but the emotions playing on his face, even as you couldn’t decipher them all, didn’t speak of contempt or pity. His smile remained nothing but soft, without a single hint of perceived or believed superiority of his own being. And without as much as a hint of him minding being in pain and taking longer to heal, not when it helped someone else, not when-
God, how that lit up fire in you, how that drove you up the wall. That stupid perfect ultimate good guy with a hero complex, his absurdly big heart larger than his already impressive body, so irritatingly kind, wrapped in a flag of self-sacrifice for good of others--- god, how you despised him for being that good. How you admired him for the very same reasons.
“But you-“
“I have one fully patched-up gunshot wound, mostly just a scratch, a few cuts and bruises, and a transfusion and some quality painkillers in my system,” Steve listed evenly, clearly having expecting your protest.
Those don’t work on the chest however, you reminded yourself, your gaze probably conveying the message even as you hadn’t said it, because Steve’s eyebrow arched slightly. “I’ll sleep it off. And I will heal the rest once I have my abilities back… we think. So truly. Your body needs the serum a lot more than mine.”
The lump that had started growing in your throat under Steve’s watchful gaze expanded further, suffocating and warming at once.
His choice of words felt like everything but accidental: your body. Not ‘you’.
Because that bastard, that infuriatingly observant sweet bastard, even without his serum momentarily but with about a hundred of injuries big and small, remembered and understood that feeling like less, being called less especiallyby someone like him andhim in particular, even if not intentionally, set off your attitude. He knew that now; because you had put almost all your cards on the table back in the Hydra facility. The fact it hadn’t been all cards clearly meant nothing; because when Steve had chosen the words, when he had seen, you might have been under at least two covers and in a hospital gown, but you’d be damned if you didn’t feel completely naked and exposed.
And the absolutely scariest part was… that it wasn’t as scary as you’d have expected it to be.
Not in front of him. Not when he had seen you at the bottom of the pit already. If anything, this was progress; after all, you were fully conscious and he wasn’t tearing your thigh-highs to shreds for the sole reason of treating two bullet wounds. But still. He was watching you with such a knowing gaze and yet, you weren’t bolting and it had nothing to do with your momentary inability to do about a single step. The tidal wave of emotions washing over you at that realization was… baffling and disconcerting to say at least. And rather difficult to process.
And his eyes… that gaze, so damn inquiring, caring and soft. It made your skin prickle and your fingers tingle and not all of it was entirely unpleasant.
“And before you ask, I admit I don’t like it, seeing either of you in pain, but I second that,” Natasha said, snapping you from your thoughts even as her voice was quiet, no doubt sensing this was a lot. And perhaps she was feeling a bit like an intruder. An intruder to what exactly? You would not dare to give it a name or ponder about it too much; it would only bring you a headache. Worse, a heartache. “You need to heal and we have no clue about the risks yet. So. I’m going to call Agent Campbell to check on his progress… Excuse me. And in the meantime, rest. Both of you. Feel better.”
She sweetened her last words with a smile and another meaningful look at Steve, whatever that was about; your best guess was that she was calling him out on not resting properly and being here in your room instead. Then, she cleared the space, the door sliding close behind her quietly.
Why was Steve here in your room instead of resting?
The question was silly really – you already had your answer. You would have known even before he had admitted to you back in the cell just how profoundly responsible he felt for his team and their wellbeing. He felt responsible for his subordinates and equals alike. He cared; though depriving himself of accelerating healing for your benefit seemed like an overkill.
And it certainly felt like a lot more than should be done for you.
You already had the best medical team in the country if not in the world at your disposal, one that could accommodate you and your Inhuman mutation, more than well-equipped to deal with the fact that it now somehow combined with the effects of Steve’s serum. It was already a lot more privilege than an average agent should have. Using the accelerating healing felt like an unfair profit and you wanted to protest despite being grateful and despite the valid argument Steve made.
But one single look at Steve told you arguing was useless. One look at the faint flame of determination in his eye and you heard the echo of his words from the cell clear as day.
You’re a person first, an asset to the team next.
You deserve to rest, you deserve having your needs met, you deserve to be treated like a damn human being.
You deserve better than that. And you are sure as hell going to get that when you’re with us.
The lump in your throat grew another three times bigger, the burn of tears in your eyes intensified; but you spilled none, swallowing heavily instead. There was a faint buzzing in your temples, but you tried to ignore that. Because this was important. If you weren’t about to try and argue Steve out of doing something stupid as you usually did and should, because you’d have about as much success as trying to move a mountain, you might as well express your gratitude at least.
“Thank you for checking up on me,” you rasped, clearing your throat; your tongue felt a little heavy too, especially when he smiled and you did not want to think about why. “For agreeing… for deciding about the… postponing the switch. I’m sorry, I don’t—it’s hard to form words, I-...”
It’s hard to say ‘thank you’ when you look at me like there’s no reason for that gratitude.
When you look like it’s all as easy and matter-of-course courtesy as holding a door open for a woman.
When you look at me, now, without an imminent threat to our lives, and the things we talked about still hang in the air, exposing so many things that I never wanted to see the light of the day.
When you’re doing me an enormous favour and you look like it’s not just because of believing it’s the right thing to do, but maybe, just a little, because it’s for me.
“Of course. And don’t worry, they did mention they have a bit of trouble to balance our dosages of medication, unsure about the serum effects or the lack of it,” he said, so casually kindly again.
“Right,” was all you managed to muster.
Medication miscalculation was most definitely not the only reason why you had trouble speaking; if Steve realized that and he was giving you an out, you couldn’t tell, but didn’t want to investigate. You were simply grateful for not having to explain what might have been written all over your face despite trying your damnest to look mostly neutral and probably failing epically.
The silence that settled tasted a little awkward; as you tried, in the subtlest way possible, to assess Steve’s body language, mulling over his words again, you felt a fresh stab of guilt. He was hunched over a little – and he had mentioned that the med team had issues managing his pain too. They didn’t know how to deal with his natural pain, because his metabolism changed too; as if it wasn’t enough there was nothing they could do for the extra pain in his chest.
And you could easily rid of that, probably of both.
He'd deserve that. More than anyone you had ever met.
What kind of a person were you to deny him that? You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. You didn’t ant to argue with him, not when whatever progress you had made in your relationship was so fragile, but… you couldn’t let him do that.
“Steve, about that switching, I don’t think it’s the best idea to wa-“
“I do,” he said firmly, straightening his posture a bit. Whether that was to establish dominance – as if he wasn’t already standing while you were semi-lying – or to cover up for the fact his chest was no doubt hurting like son of a bitch still, you weren’t sure. But he did; and when he spoke again, you had to admit it was probably the latter. “I’m fine. How are you feeling?”
God, that stubborn son of a-
You bit down the curse, mildly, very mildly mollified by the warm smile – with the subtlesthint of mischief – he charmed up as he tilted his head, waiting.
So you sighed instead.
He gave you time as you allowed yourself to feel your body, the muscles of your legs stiff and relaxed at once, a significantly duller ache than you’d expect, exhaustion seeping deep in your bones despite having barely just woken up. As you kept assessing, pondering about the right balance of honesty and propriety, Steve’s eyes flickered to a nearby chair standing barely a few feet from him, then back to you with an unspoken but clear question.
Despite your better judgement, you nodded, belly warm at the idea of him staying a little longer when you were indeed not in imminent danger and he was still being amicable with you.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to know how you felt; he considered you a one of the people he felt truly responsible for.
He cared.
You shouldn’t be so content, shouldn’t give in, certainly shouldn’t be feeling like you were slowly melting on the inside. Your heart shouldn’t be fluttering. But you had already established your judgement was impaired at best, didn’t you?
And again, despite your better judgement, you also told Steve the truth. There was simply something in his eyes as he watched you with concern but a small smile, clearly content you had granted him his wish to sit down and stay a little longer instead of screaming your disagreement to his face, that just made you actually want to tell the truth. To be on honest terms.
“I’m… a little less than fine, I guess,” you admitted reluctantly, only to see his smile slip, gaze instantly drawn to the nurse button by your bed. But a nurse would not help you with this; not with feeling rather lost in all the sensations and emotions and feeling like you were losing your last defences to the all-kinds-of-gorgeous man by your bedside. “But I… I would have been dead without you.”
Steve shook his head in dismissal.
The sudden urge – to make him seethat dismissing all he had done as if it was some kind of a common courtesy was utter nonsense –flared up in your chest with intensity, shooting straight into your veins even before he spoke up.
“You removed the bullets yourself-“
“And you took care of me. You--- you protected me. With everything you had and caught a bullet for that, because I needed-“
“I needed to do at least something,” he interrupted you in turn, your mouth falling shut at the urgency of his tone, the atmosphere suddenly heavier and thicker than just a moment ago with something you couldn’t quite grasp except for feeling the gravity and passion behind Steve’s words. “The fact that I, at least partly, got us into that situation was just one of many reasons why. And you, you warned us that that might happen, and yet when it came, you didn’t throw it in my face, not really, but instead fought tooth and nail, suffering the consequences of a mistake that was not your own and tried you damnest to help even when you were fighting for your life. Healing a little faster than usual is the least you deserve and me having done what I did and enabling that healing now is the least I can do.”
You swallowed heavily, not daring to move otherwise, not ready to make a sound; too stunned. His words were heavy with guilt, bright with sincerity and laced with the echo of those in the cell again.
You deserve better than that. And you are sure as hell going to get that when you’re with us.
And you understood. You understood that the guilt he had revealed might have been a strong motivator of his, but not the only one. He wanted to do that for you. Because he cared.
The thought was dizzying still, but with that, you supposed you could live. You could live, even though with heavy conscience, with him choosing to wait if it eased his conscience. It wasn’t written anywhere that the switch couldn’t happen right tomorrow – just not right now. Whenever that might occur, however, the delay was still an enormous sacrifice; one worthy of Captain America. One worthy of Steve Rogers.
It would enrage you to no end that he was willing to do that, if it only didn’t make your heart flutter.
You licked your lips, mouth having gone dry as you found yourself under his burning gaze the whole time you pondered your answer.
“I--- thank you, Steve. And not just for that. I am still grateful for what you did for me back there too… and how.”
And you meant that too.
Because you did remember with painful and startling quality. Remembered how tender and careful his hands had been, how soothing his voice had sounded, how sincere his words had been. You hadn’t really deserved such softness; and certainly, when looking back, hadn’t expected it either – used to a cold shoulder, drills and words that couldn’t be farther from the endearments Steve’s lips spilled – even as you had known Steve was simply a unique kind of man.
You’d always be grateful for all of it, even as his actions had been a double-edged sword.
Thank you for what you did and how; even if it ruined me forever. Even if it crushed most if not all the walls I had built so meticulously so I wouldn’t jump into the void of allowing myself to feel anything but caution, irritation and insanely bothersome admiration when it came to you.
The memory of his soft touch would haunt you forever; it had already haunted your dream, after all, the endearments whispered by his lips in a context and situation imagined, but fed by a real memory.
At your words, Steve smiled a bit, concern and determination replaced by sheer warmth that felt like a fluffy blanket caressing your skin, inviting you to sink into its softness.
“Anytime, doll.”
The conviction in the single word strummed your heartstrings gently; the endearment, falling from his lips so effortlessly again, tugged at them violently and made you shiver.
Your chuckle sounded foreign and nervous, the heat blooming in your chest a little heavy.
“Is that going to be a thing now?”
Steve sat up straighter in an instant, only reminding you of how close he had leaned forward to you before; he appeared a little flushed, a tinge of pink in his cheeks, expression one of a boy caught with a hand in the cookie jar. It took away five years of his handsome face and it was beautiful.
It was such an awfully sweet picture that the nerves melted away, giving into the gentle fire instead.
“Oh. Sorry, I-“
“No, I-… I like it…” you admitted unwittingly, slowly, feeling your cheeks burn with heat and your lungs with panic, because what were you doing? What were you thinking, not only feeling it, but confessing to that, no matter how true it was. You couldn’t--- you shouldn’t- “I think,” you added quickly.
You fooled no one.
But oh, that brilliant smile Steve’s lips split into and his fingertips brushing over your hand laxly laid on the bed, before his hand gently enveloped yours, made that admission damn well worth it. Even if your chest felt paper-thin, with your pounding heart threatening to burst right through.
God, you were glad you only had the oximeter on your other hand and were not attached to the kind of ECG that was hooked to a beeping monitor. You’d die of embarrassment if Steve could actually hear the somersaults your heart was doing; you were set on the course of committing ritualistic suicide by allowing yourself to feel that way already, there was no need to add to it, really, no need to let him hear-
And yet you couldn’t imagine you truly would care if he heard. Not when his warm hand carefully squeezed yours, a flicker of apprehension in his gaze when he did so, almost as if he was – arguably rightfully – worried it would make you pull your hand back.
But you did no such thing; like a fool. Like a fool in lo- no. That was so not a wise direction for your thoughts.
“Yeah,” Steve hummed, his shoulders sagging a bit when you not only hadn’t yanked your hand free, but instinctively – yes, certainly, it was pure reflex, not a conscious decision at all, right? – briefly squeezed back. “Me too.”
There was something setting off all alarm bells inside you at the direction you were both steering towards; but there was also something chasing tears of relief and affection into your eyes.
Because what you were experiencing, what you were seeing, was precious on so many levels.
Sweet. Vulnerable. Less than confident.
Stubborn. In pain not entirely hidden. Slipping. Soft.
New layers of Steve uncovered, revealed voluntarily for you to see. You had willed yourself to be a little more honest and accept, however reluctantly, his kindness; and in return, he took your words to heart too, letting you see more of him than what he was used to showing.
He had admitted back in the cell that what the agents could of him, a drastically uncomplete image with virtues having painted all of it, was what he believed was necessary. Ironically, you had never found yourself admiring him more – steering faster towards the very dangerous territory of liking him and allowing yourself to feel it and giving into it – than right now.
You were not blind to the opportunity; you were not blind to the fact it cost him something too, because letting go of masks and tearing down walls was a painful and often impossible process. You appreciated it; and he deserved know that.
“And, I-“
His smile grew a little curious, intent, so genuinely interested in whatever you wanted to say that you couldn’t bear his gaze anymore, your eyes focusing on his hand on yours instead; it only stirred emotion in you further, because the sight was all kinds of peculiar. Not only because of the simple insane fact that he was holding your hand – Jesus, you needed to get a grip and not on his hand, no matter how nice that would have felt – but because of his scraped knuckles and two tiny cuts. An image unparalleled; you had never seen that. Either you weren’t shown, obviously, or the small injuries hadn’t stuck for long enough, the serum coursing his veins working its miracles and healing.
And he wanted you to have that kind of miraculous luxury for now, giving it up for your benefit. For you. It might be unfathomable, but that made it no less touching, the feeling blooming in your chest no less consuming.
That large warm pawn of his might have as well be pulling directly at your heartstrings with every second he spent in your company, with every step forward you felt he was taking.
“I… it might be just painkillers talking, but I like you better like this. I mean-- better than the perfect Captain America. Not hurt, obviously,” you said, mentally cursing your choice of words.
And cursing the confession itself. The moment you said it out loud, you realized it revealed too much. You didn’t dare to look up for the very reason; but it felt like Steve’s smile widened, your mind supplying you with an image of his eyes crinkling for some reason.
The barely-there twitch of his hand felt self-deprecating, looking back at his own behaviour critically; that made you feel a touch braver. And a bit more confident that he truly wondered what was on your mind and wanted to hear and see what you thought and who you were; bad humour included.
It only felt right to show it.
“I also liked it when you told me to tell you what to do for a change.”
You were rewarded for speaking up; with a gorgeous sound of his chuckle sending tingles down your veins, a sight of his absurdly handsome face lighting up and him leaning a bit closer, brighter, but with serious note to his cerulean eyes, the faintest hint of hesitance as his laugh faded out, only his smile remaining
“Well. I’ll deny it and will never speak of it again if you just say the word, but I just… I just like you.”
Lightning.
It struck you like a lightning, electrifying, burning and icy cold all at once. Paralysing.
If holding his hand had seemed like a risk, now he figuratively took your other hand too and led you straight into the minefield. And you might have trusted him to do that, but reached for even more humour anyway, because the feeling coiling inside you expanded with the first breath you dared to take and then further with every other and you had no clue how to contain it.
He liked you.
“Such flattery.”
It did not come out as snarky as intended; in fact, it came out just as touched as you felt, the echo of his words resonating in your very bones, the marrow crumbling and rebuilding anew. You suspected your expression revealed a little too much of how profoundly that single statement seemed to change what might be a little piece of you, but changed you fundamentally. Your voice came out a touch too vulnerable – but you supposed that was only fair. He had been vulnerable first. Right?
So why did it feel like so much? Too much.
You half-expected Steve to take it back, if not for anything, than for the very magnitude of such statement; but he kept watching you, painfully gentle and unable to take it anymore, your gaze slid lower to his chest.
The flash of a terrifying image – a ghastly memory – had you wince, the bubble Steve had seemed to create bursting, reality crashing in.
“How’s… how bad is the chest pain?”
Steve didn’t call you out on the change of topic; but his smile earned a tense edge, the briefest flash of a grimace telling you the pain was, unsurprisingly and unfortunately, barely bearable. As it tended to be when a person got shot.
But he didn’t say a word about that pain, stubborn; and perhaps he was purposely letting you get a taste your own medicine, showing you another piece of the only almost-perfect puzzle he was – a tiny bit vindictive, proving a point when given the chance. You supposed you couldn’t exactly argue that you didn’t deserve that behaviour.
Or maybe he simply didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to disturb the nice warm moment by digging into a very painful spot. Literally.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said simply.
And yet, there was an undertone to his voice, one that had your breath catch and took you all too long to figure out, only knocking the remnants of air from your lungs when you did realize what his patient gaze spoke of as well.
This was not only his answer to you.
This was his answer to anyone who asked.
And you wanted to be mad at him, for being a hypocrite, for hiding pain, no doubt telling people he was fine, as he had told you too-
-but the motivation behind that action was not as simple and straightforward as him putting on the face he always believed was necessary. Because it was so much more complicated than. Because it was about you too.
That was what he was telling you.
You did not believe that it would last. There was no universe in which Steve Rogers would make a discovery of such nature and kept it for himself, or would keep it but let it slide without any consequence, good or bad; but for now, he did. He hadn’t revealed your secret to anyone.
Your choked ‘thank you’, when you finally gathered enough air and wits to speak, was barely audible.
And that infuriatingly good bastard just smiled, a little conspiratory, as if he had a secret you now knew, even if it was the other way around.
“I should let you rest,” he said lowly, brushing over your gratitude – because of course he did. “Rest well. Feel better.”
Despite his words, he did not move an inch away from you; he didn’t let go either, the only movement being a painfully soft sweep of his thumb over the back of your hand, over your wrist.
The minuscule, seemingly instinctual caress made something warm hum in your chest, loud.
So unlike two weeks ago with the parting words after your fight – god, did it feel like a lifetime ago, and maybe it was, the experience of the past hours changing you, leaving you alive but reborn – you allowed yourself to respond in kind, consciously letting sincerity slip into your voice.
“You too.”
Steve smiled wide, eyes crinkling – and this time, you did see it, the image much prettier and vivid than your mind had conjured before. The feeling in your chest hummed even louder and fluttered its wings, an echo of a sweet melody and his words in your head.
I just like you.
He had exposed his heart, shared a good thing with you. That was another thing you should reciprocate, for it might be a dangerous truth, but one Steve would deserve to hear. Yet, you found yourself unable to do it.
You were no hero – not like him. There was not enough courage left to say those words – but that didn’t mean you weren’t willing to put in an effort, to hint at least. Because one thing needed to be made crystal clear; that reckless, beautiful thing, blossoming around your heart, pulling at the seams of your ribcage.
“And I… think I will want you to speak of… that again. Later?” you suggested quietly, half-expecting him to burst out with a laughter, a ‘ha gotcha!’ coming at last,; half-hoping he would do no such thing.
Sure, men being interested in your person might not be a foreign concept to you, be it your status, skills or abilities, but neither were the bets and conquests of the one with higher status and skills than their own – which for sure would not be Steve’s case. It couldn’t be. He would never.
Yet, you felt apprehension creep up your spine as you confessed; one quickly dissolved in his velvety voice.
“I’d like that too.”
You squeezed his hand back at that, vainly shushing the overly giddy sensation awoken. You really, really needed to get a grip on yourself. But you didn’t take your indirect confession back – which meant your judgement was most definitely impaired. And funnily enough, you didn’t mind one bit.
For a long moment, neither of you said a word; neither of you commented on the minute physical affection you showed, this time entirely consciously. Steve didn’t tease you about it, didn’t turn it against you in any way, nor exploited it, his smile only turning a tad warmer, without pressure.
It occurred to you it was no wonder you had been unable to say ‘I like you’ back to him; it would have been a lie. ‘Liking’ him just might be too weak of a word at the moment.
“Good,” you whispered simply, earning another caress on your hand, this time surer, firmer, but no less gentle.
Then, one last squeeze of a hand and Steve was rising to his feet at last. The way you missed the warmth of his touch instantly was downright criminal; you just weren’t sure whether it was you or him who should get arrested.
“See you soon, doll.”
Him. He was the one who should be locked up and with a warning.
Over the power of his words, a very faint sound of the door sliding open reached your ears but not your brain – so you responded in kind again.
“See you soon, stranger.”
He grinned – that criminal grinned – as if he could remember you calling him that back at the charity auction, and made his way to the door where he turned back to you just to spare you one more smile. As a consequence, he nearly collided with one Daisy Johnson before he disappeared from your sight completely.
But not before you witnessed Daisy’s appreciative onceover, a firm dutiful ‘Captain Rogers’ on her lips. Once the door slid shut, her gaze found yours, mutely, but very exaggeratingly mouthing a ‘wow’.
And you kinda wished she would have stayed in the mute mode when she actually spoke.
“Well, lucky you, doll.”
“Shut up.”
Despite your harsh words, you were smiling, feeling heat rising in your cheeks – and realizing there was a dull ache in them too. Given the fact you hadn’t been punched there, as far as you knew, it meant that your cheeks hurt from smiling too long. And you couldn’t seem to make it stop, trying, but failing as your lips instantly curled up again.
Daisy’s unoffended chuckle sounded like it was coming from an enormous distance.
What was wrong with you? What were you, a teenager? A kid?So Steve had said he liked you and held you hand for a bit, gee, yeah, a big deal. Except it was. And definitely not just because you couldn’t have stood each other – or acted like it – barely two weeks ago, which was just another thing that should make you freak out and in a way it did, because this was insane and dangerous, but--- god. The way he just casually swept his thumb over the back of your hand was doing visceral things to you; and your brain might have been screaming at you because of that, but heaven help you, you still liked it.
It was a good thing that Daisy, the closest thing you had to a friend, was here now, to bring your feet back to Earth.
Except she was about to do no such thing, naturally – damn her pure hopeful heart and dirty mouth.
“You know, I know I once said I’d like to get my hands on Thor,” she hummed, grinning, spying the chair by your bed and plopped down into it without bothering asking permission, “but I’m not picky about my Avengers… like, at all.”
You couldn’t help it; you snorted, even as an irrational growl of mine seemed to echo in your skull.
“Yeah, right, tell that to Lincoln.”
“What? I can appreciate a handsome beefcake of a man still, I have eyes!”
“Yeah, for Lincoln Campbell, your boyfriend,” you reminded her with amusement, even as she most definitely needed no reminder; the two were sickeningly, beautifully in love.
Only when she raised her eyebrow, you noticed the butterfly band aid on her forehead – it truly spoke of how out of it you were to notice it only now despite the injury literally staring into your face.
You sat up straighter, frowning. “Hey, what happened? How are you doing?”
Daisy’s right eyebrow joined the left one, her hand subtly pointing towards her – and then you.
“Me? I’m fine. You, however, have two gunshot wounds, Ms. Avenger. What the hell?”
Your smile slipped at the addressing making a return, instinct taking over. “I’m not… that, not really.”
Daisy tilted her head, her face speaking volumes.
Here was a thing about Daisy Johnson; even long before she was an agent, from what you heard, she could show very clearly when she was done with someone’s bullshit. And she was clearly expressing that she thought you were sprawling nonsense now.
You spoke quickly before she could, forcing your smile back as you remembered: “I met a girl recently, she was a fan of yours.”
“Oh? Cool! Tell me all about that,” Daisy took the bait easily, grinning with a mischief that should have clued you on something, but didn’t. “When was that? Was that during the Avengers’ Day, Ms. Avenger?”
You shot her an unimpressed glare; but the corners of your lips twitched up involuntarily at her shenanigans. Damn her. This woman. She was on a roll.
“And then, you’d better tell me all the juicy and mundane details you can about the blond beefcake… that calls you doll, apparently? You know, Coulson’s either gonna fistfight you for him or dry his tears of pride and joy for like a week.”
There was absolutely no containing the snort of laughter this time. Your cheeks burned; your belly tingled, warmth and nausea at once – but you snorted again, because that was a visual that should not be so plausible. Bless Phil Coulson and his heart. You admired him greatly, but the imagery Daisy painted should have felt much more absurd.
“You’re awful,” you accused her, giggling, not blind to her pride at her joke.
“Please, you love me.”
God help you, you did indeed. The insistent tug on the corners of your lips gave it away, as did the incredibly soothing bright feeling in your chest. Your giggles turned into a gentle smile, the gratitude you felt hopefully seeping into every word.
Because you were grateful to her – for a lot of things. You didn’t think you could put it into words; you didn’t think you truly wanted to put it into words. You just hoped that she understood. She always had.
“Thank you for checking up on me, Daisy. And for coming to the rescue in the first place,” you said, the sudden hoarseness of your voice and the burn in your eyes taking you by surprise – and with shame.
But she just smiled; because of course she did. She was a lot more than a kickass hero with a sense of humour. Most of all, she was a kind precious soul fighting the odds no one would have guessed she had to face.
She leaned closer, her expression speaking of sincerity you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to.
“Hey. Always. But please, do not test that again. You scared me… scared us. If it weren’t for another three fires that needed to be put out around the world, you’d have the full cavalry here, and I don’t mean just May,” she informed you, not giving you time to process the bombshell she just dropped and caused absolute havoc in your head. Surely, she was exaggerating- “Next gala, just get drunk and do something embarrassing, yeah? Nothing life-threatening.”
You just smiled weakly, latching onto the mischief appearing in her face again, the air feeling considerably lighter in your lungs at that.
“Now. What’s the word? Who was the girl? And… how’s the guy?”
She wiggled her eyebrows – actually wiggled her eyebrows – and you opened your mouth mutely, barely containing your smile at the sheer force of her enthusiasm. It had nothing to do that the memory of Steve’s hand on yours made you melt into the pillow again. Nothing.
Get a grip-
“He’s… it’s—complicated,” you stammered, having to admit that it was actually be the most accurate word ever to describe whatever you and Steve were. Were trying to be. Could be in some utopia land. Whatever.
Daisy grinned in return. “Riiiight, so right up your alley then, eh?”
Mentally, you scoffed. Figures, you supposed. And still – you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.
I just like you.
Steve Rogers was most definitely entirely out of your league – a war hero who had literally fought the original Nazis, a hero of today, a demi-god in a barely human form, the gentlest man with a heart of gold and mind sharp like a knife that he only used to protect others – but as far as types of men went, he was certainly up there for you. You knew you shouldn’t reach so high, because you weren’t able to, but damn him, he made you want to try, even as the fall would hurt like son of a bitch.
“Yeah... I suppose it is.”
“Well, just so you know, there was not a single complicated thing about the way that guy was looking at ya’,” Daisy drawled confidently, crossing hr arms on her chest, watching you expectantly.
Your heart fluttered and started racing, stomach doing a funny flip-flop.
Get a grip, get a grip, he’s just--- he’s just a guy, just a guy, and you shouldn’t get your hopes up so much, you---
You pushed the burning giddy feeling away, catching yourself before you could grin and giggle and scream like a lunatic, and cleared your throat.
Daisy’s face told you that you fooled no one – or at least not her. Oh for god’s sake-
“Ehm… thanks. Duly noted. Now, about Daisy…”
“Oooh I like this girl already. Spill!”
And so you did, eternally grateful your Daisy didn’t push further. At least for now.
And if the ache in your cheeks persisted, maybe, just maybe, you only welcomed it with a wider smile.
As Steve walked down the hall, he felt the tips of his ears burning, even as what had happened between you to in your hospital room was hardly scandalous.
What was rather scandalous was the look Agent Johnson gave him when he nearly collided with her in the doorway. That woman conveyed a plethora of emotion in a single gaze; respect, curiosity, a wordless threat not to hurt her friend and somewhat platonic objectification, the reason for the flush to his skin.
True, the last part was significantly aided by his interaction with you – entirely pleasant, sweet, warm even, your hand in his certainly had been, and you had said you would like to talk about that. ‘That’ being Steve liking you. And while his choice of words was a little too simple, it clearly didn’t affect the result – and the warmth remained both on his face and in his chest.
Unfortunately, the droplets of sweat he could feel in his hairline and the rest of the flush to his face had much more to do with pain. Brutal, unrelenting pain which didn’t react to medication unlike the one coming from his actual injuries.
Now that he felt but a slight dull ache in his shoulder and arm and face, and he didn’t have other sensations to focus on, no little smiles, surprising honesty, no touch, no ‘I like you better like this’, the pain in his ribcage was nothing short of stabbing. He slouched a bit, allowing himself a few moments of reprieve since there were no witnesses momentarily; but as the ache didn’t subdue, Steve seriously questioned his decision to not bring it up not only with you, but no one at all.
The Avengers didn’t know about the issue yet – he had requested to postpone anyone watching the rest of the records from the Hydra facility until he’d review it, not even having to make up the worry he expressed about revealing too personal information or his concern about the action of showing the video to others appearing like dangling the less-than-completely-stellar moments you had shared in front of the team. While Steve held nothing but admiration for you and your strength in those moments and he was sure anyone would feel the same, he’d rather if you decided about what you wanted the team to see; the majority of what had happened at the two cells brought no useful intel anyway. However, the issue of your abilities, now that was something that needed to be shared with at least a few other people, but should be done so completely on your terms.
Which was also the reason why Steve hadn’t been interrogating and hurting the bastards who had tortured you – and it had been torture, inflicting not only pain, but fear, all for the goal of breaking you and him alike – leaving that to Natasha and Bucky instead. The Hydra operatives who were still able to speak – Steve admittedly found a little too much gratification in the fact not all of them could – might try to get a rise out of him. Or directly ask about how his chest was doing and thus steering attention to questions Steve did not want to answer since you didn’t either.
That was why he had opted for siting in your room, watching Natasha’s and Bucky’s impeccable and incredibly satisfactory work on his tablet, alternating with watching over the steadily drawn lines on your heart monitor and your calm breaths; an acceptable compromise of keeping your secret safer, keeping an eye on you, technically resting as he the doctor had ordered, and witnessing the men who revelled in hurting others metaphorically weave the rope to hang themselves on as either of Steve’s closest friends got them worked up.
Admittedly, Steve had nodded off at some point between all this, probably due to the amount of pain medication he was on and exhaustion from the pain that never left, but that wasn’t the point.
And sure – Steve didn’t plan on sitting on the information about your lingering pain forever, chest almost bursting at the seams with the need to discuss it with someone already and put a plan in motion so you’d suffer less in the future, preferably not at all, but he needed to be careful about it. Strategic. Take his time.
And process it fully himself first.
Because that was a hard, bitter pill to swallow and Steve wasn’t sure he ever would. Not the part about him not having known. Not the part about him having assumed. Not the part about feeling the extent of it on his own body. And most definitely not the part that this was how your powers worked and always had. His blood was boiling at not having known, but anger was not the only emotion stirred.
The mere idea you had suffered a pain like this, multiple times without a single soul knowing – or a single person who could have decided you wouldn’t be going on mission or even to training in such state – was horrifying and almost as paralyzing as the pain itself. And it wasn’t that Steve didn’t understand the need to push one’s self, swallow pain in order to function, to help, or didn’t admire those who could do it. He himself had bit through a fair amount of pain, more than he’d care for. But he had suffered through it only when it was absolutely necessary and lives were at stake, and you’d just--
…alright, perhaps that was a lie and he was a damn hypocrite, but that was different. You must have been suffering constantly and that was wrong and simply inacceptable.
Steve’s brain was in a slight haze, both physical and mental exhaustion catching up with him as did the suddenly lacking effects of the serum he had got used to, but he tried to strain his memory anyway. How many missions had you handled with pain not unlike the one he was feeling now? Without a single complaint, because you apparently believed complaining was notwithin your rights, because you were an agent, and pain was a part of life? Occupational hazard, easier on you than on other agents, because it was ‘only’ pain? How many of your missions had you taken on after having got hurt in your spectral form? A quarter of them? A third? He’d have to go through the records. He was going to read on every single one of them, remind you of all of them and make sure you’d never do that again. Because goddamnit you mattered.
He really thought you had believed him back at the base, but he was not so certain you’d stay in that headspace after you’d heal; he might be a hypocrite, but he was beginning to see similarities he was not appreciative of and he was more than aware that that was what he would have probably done too. But that was a problem for the future you and him and whoever would get involved.
Athe door to the communal kitchen came into focus, Steve sighed, trying to concentrate on the insistent twitch in the corners of his lips instead; because besides the persistent agony and burning, there a sweet warmth that lingered in his chest as well. A distraction, a soft painkiller that didn’t do much, but was still doing plenty.
He grasped at that straw, gripping hard as he reached the door, back straightening. He could handle the pain like this too; it wasn’t completely unbearable. It only hurt when he moved.
Or breathed.
And keeping your secret for now, keeping it safe, mattered. Because no matter whether he agreed or not, you hadconsidered your circumstance as one not allowing you to share how your abilities worked; not with him or any other Avenger, or even Coulson, since Steve hadn’t got any information of that kind when they had recruited you. Your heartbreaking ‘thank you’ back in the room had spoken volumes, nails of an invisible hand digging into Steve’s heart.
For that, hiding his momentary pain and not saying anything was worth it. For the trust you had showed him when you had confessed, it was worth it, because he couldn’t afford to break that. Not only it would feel like an utter betrayal even to him, let alone you, but because they’d lose you. Already having been so reluctant to fully lean into being an Avenger in any other but professional – and bleeding – capacity, caring but keeping your distance, you’d cut them off completely. Or left the team; even as in the past few minutes, Steve had not got the impression of you planning on that.
Hopefully.
Right before he entered, Steve took a deep agonizing breath. It reminded him of his asthma, only with the pain dialled up to eleven, the kind of hurting he was no longer used to fighting, not when not running on more adrenalin than blood. He granted himself the luxury of not straitening to his full height – he was about to meet friends, after all. He did not have to hide everything.
He could afford showing just a bit more, blaming it on bruised ribs he hadn’t want to admit to – if anything, that would make his charade more believable.
He allowed for the smile tugging on his lips to spread fully.
You had said yes. You hadn’t exactly said you liked him too, he wasn’t blind to that fact, but it was implied for certain that you did – and he’d take it, because he wasn’t blind to the enormous progress you had gone through compared to what you two had been two weeks ago when the major fight had occurred.
I’d like to talk about that…. Later?
Steve could wait. It wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to sort through, some pleasant, some less so.
Three faces with various levels of amusement and concern welcomed him as he walked in, Bucky, Natasha and Sam sitting at the table, taking a break in between digging into the sick minds of Hydra operatives.
They all watched him expectantly, no doubt having spied the smile on his face – but it was Bucky who spoke, the one teasingly prolonged word only causing Steve’s smile to widen.
“Soooo…?”
“Not a word.”
“Oh I think a lot of words probably happened, punk. Communication, huh? The wonders of simply talking...” Bucky continued, earning an unimpressed glare as Steve moved to the still fresh pot of coffee. He had a mission report to write, then another report as two AI high-ranking operatives had been hurt, he had the videos to review, a therapy session planned… he needed the caffeine.
Especially since he was to deal with his friends first; the snicker that escaped Sam and the smirk settling on Natasha’s face spoke volumes.
Clearly, Steve was friends with children. And as children he should treat them.
“I hate you all,” he uttered, his grin somehow only widening.
“Oooooh, careful! Careful, you guys,” Sam teased, extending his hand in front of Bucky and Natasha as if to protect them from Steve. “He might have caught more than her powers. He’s cranky now.”
A bit of indignation lit up in Steve’s chest at that mocking remark – you weren’t that cranky. In fact, you could be quite doting on others when you weren’t isolating yourself. Which, now that he looked back, might have been for a large part caused by the fact that when you were alone, it was your reprieve from pretending you were not in pain. For another, he was staring to understand that you felt like you didn’t belong – and so your exits could have seemed harsher than intended.
He wasn’t sure which was worse; but either way, making fun of you for it was incredibly unfair.
But before he could rise to our defence, Bucky was pushing Sam’s hand away with a shit-eating grin.
“Nah, he could always be cranky, especially when he knew others had been right the whole time. He’s just finally embraced the fact they are two peas in the pod with our resident lady Spectre. Didn’t you?”
“Har-har, jerk,” Steve commented, unimpressed.
But yes, that was true. The fact he had refused to admit that your similarities were one of the reasons why you occasionally clashed so hard was certainly among the list of his recent revelations, of which most sucked, but he was still glad for having made them.
Something must have shown in his face, or perhaps his voice had earned a bitterer note as his thoughts had, because Sam’s features lost a fair share of humour, sincerity shining through instead, as he made more space for him at the table, letting him sit among them.
“No, Steve, seriously… we’re glad to have you back. Both of you… cranky or smiling.”
Steve’s lips automatically mimicked the latter, especially when Sam very carefully reached out to briefly squeeze his unharmed shoulder.
“Thanks, Sam.”
“And happy to see you two idiots are making progress…” Bucky added, hiding his ever-present grin behind his cup as he sipped his coffee.
“…even if it took an alien artifact, a kidnapping, three gunshot wounds and walking a mile in each other’s’ shoes,” Natasha finished, causing Steve to sigh, the creeping unease they had called crankiness growing as she listed it all.
Natasha certainly had a point, because it had taken a lot indeed – and they didn’t even know half of it… or at least about one gunshot wound. And as much as Steve shared their sentiment, grateful – delighted, in fact – that your relationship with him was beginning not only to settle, but might actually grow into something more than pleasant collegiality or friendship, he couldn’t help feeling that the price for that was a little too high.
“Sure, laugh it up.”
“Oh, we will,” Sam agreed instantly, showing his pearly whites in a wide grin, the very moment Natasha’s quiet hum told Steve that he was never going to live that down and Bucky blurted out “Absolutely, we will, yeah.”
Yeah, I don’t think I will, Steve thought darkly, biting his tongue and resolving to drown the words in the hot drink instead, gaze lowering to the counter as not to reveal his musings, hoping to come across as flustered if not embarrassed a bit.
But he should have known better.
Between two deadly spies and a man who knew a human soul and trauma well-enough to volunteer at a VA, and with all of those being his close friends, there was no hiding.
He could feel the humour melt away from the room completely as concern filled the space instead.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, setting his cup down; and at that, Steve almost laughed, but sighed instead, reluctantly looking up.
A whole lot is wrong.
“Besides the obvious, he means,” Sam added quickly.
What was Steve supposed to say to that? He knew about the one thing he couldn’t reveal, but the rest… that he hated what had happened, that to a large point, he did hate learning all the things about you and revealing his own fears and insecurities, some of them healed and soothed, loving it all the same? That he wasn’t sure that if given the chance to come back and undo all the pain, not only the one you were put through in the past days, but all of it, there was a part of him, significant one, that would not have taken that chance, because it let you right here and may lead to something beautiful? How selfish was that? For the paragon of virtue you considered him, he sure felt like the opposite. And the fact you likely still thought you weren’t enough, hadn’t been enough, didn’t—
He cherished all he learned about you, but there was a part of him that simply wanted to scream and now he couldn’t. And he had no idea at all what he was going to tell not only to his friends, but to his therapist; because not telling anyone as he had promised himself and indirectly to you for now, surely included her as well.
So much for a fearless reckless leader, eh?
“It’s not… it is just that a lot has happened, that’s all,” Steve said at least, carefully choosing his words. It was the farthest thing from a lie. It just wasn’t a complete truth; and it wasn’t enough. His friends could tell; he could feel all of their gazes burning through his skull, even as they remained silent, waiting patiently. There was no doubt telling them would make his breathing easier, shared burden and shared indignation lifting some of the weight from his chest; but he bit his cheek, gripping the weight tighter, because he couldn’t. Not yet. “I just-“
“I swear to god, punk, if you’re gonna say again that it was your fault…”
Steve huffed a humourless chuckle, regretting it instantly as his ribcage protested with a sharp stab of pain. Okay, fuck, how did you even-
“It’s not that. Not only. I just… I wish that sudden understanding of each other’s perspective came in a different circumstance than getting hurt and nearly getting killed, that’s all.”
He forced a tight smile, rewarded with Sam’s compassionate gaze.
“That’s pretty understandable. Just like wishing we somehow did better despite having done our best and doing everything right,” Sam said, one corner of his lips rising as he knew he hit the one nail sticking out directly on the head, self-deprecating leading Steve’s brows to rise briefly – as did his satisfaction for getting them off his back without being insincere and revealing too much.
However, as soon as he glanced at Bucky and Natasha, he realized he hadn’t fooled them. Not all of them.
Natasha in particular was watching him like a hawk, not even trying to be subtle about it.
Seconds ticked by. Bucky cocked his head to side, suspicious, but resigning.
Natsha’s eyes, on the other hand, lit up with recognition.
With recognition that was not supposed to be there.
The flash of hurt burned hotter than his invisible bullet wound; and it ignited the same rage Steve had felt when you had confessed to him; the same rage that consumed him upon hearing your whisper of ‘not where I come from’; the same rage that whited his vision out back in the cell when he heard you scream in agony and he could do nothing.
Natasha knew.
Whether you had told her – and dammit did that made him feel inadequate and downright useless as the Captain that was supposed to protect his team, because you were supposed to trust him with that – or whether she had figured it out, his blood might have as well burst in flames at the mere fact she had kept it to herself.
How could have she just let you suffer, standing by watching him assign you to mission after mission when you were supposed to rest and heal, when-
The wave of nausea swinging his stomach and the new suffocating pressure in his ribcage made him doubt whether he wanted to yell or throw up; but either way, he was going to have a very strict and possibly very loud conversation with Natasha.
Right fucking now.
And she knew that – Steve could tell, because she still held his gaze, unrelenting, not appearing intimidated a fraction by the anger that must have shown on his face. Clearly, for some sick reason, she didn’t regret her actions – or the lack of it – one bit. Of course she didn’t.
But she should.
Steve didn’t look away from her face when he spoke into the suddenly chilling silence.
“Guys… can we have a minute?”
Steve asked, but he didn’t.
It wasn’t even a request.
His voice slipped into the mode of a Captain, one that despite valuing his comrades’ opinions, permitted no protests; he gave an order and they almost automatically followed, because they trusted him.
Now, Steve could feel their startled and baffled eyes flickering between Natasha and him, trying to decipher what on Earth had caused the sudden shift in atmosphere. Steve noticed from the corner of his eye that Bucky looked at Natasha questioningly, but she simply nodded minutely, causing Steve’s jaw to tense further. If Bucky knew as well-
When Steve’s gaze snapped to him, however, he appeared reigned but no less confused than before.
Good. Had Natasha told Bucky but had kept it secret from him, both of them, Steve would throw fucking hands – they would be balled in fists.
“…sure?” Sam hummed uncertainly, grabbing his coffee and walking away alongside Bucky, gaze flickering between the trio with an almost laughably puzzled expression.
Except laughing was the last thing on Steve’s mind, and the pain in his chest had nothing and everything to do with that.
Before he could as much as gather his thoughts and figure out where to even start with giving Natasha a piece of his mind, she propped her hip on the counter leisurely, lowly but very firmly requesting a privacy protocol from FRIDAY with her authorisation code. Only then, she looked at Steve, compassionate but no less apologetic.
“You got hurt when you managed to project, didn’t you?” she stated rather than asked and Steve could scoff. Because of course she knew. She knew everything.
“Yeah. Shot in the chest. Snapped back right away. Imagine my surprise,” he said, by some miracle keeping his voice even and matter-of-fact despite the explosive cocktail of emotions threatened to burst any second.
“I’m sorry.”
“And you should be,” Steve said, all too aware it was not the sorry he wanted to hear and his anger only spiked further. She was sorry he had got hurt. She was sorry he had not been prepared for the pain lingering. Sorry about him learning about it this way. But she was not at all regretting standing idly why you had suffered. And to think she called herself your friend. “What were you thinking? How could you-“
“It was not my secret to tell-”
“The hell it wasn’t!” Steve exploded at last, rising to his feet so fast he nearly knocked over the chair he had been sitting on. And Natasha, goddamn her, watched him steadily, not even flinching. How the hell was she so calm?! So indifferent? Did she not give a single damn- “Natasha, she’s in enormous amount of pain on daily basis! How the hell could you not share that?!”
Natasha only arched her eyebrow, a wordless comeback: so you are admitting to being in ‘an enormous amount of pain’ despite having told the doctor your pain was at 2 after the meds you had got?
Steve just scowled, heart thundering in his ribcage as his blood felt so hot it might actually start evaporating. What the-
“I’m pretty sure it’s not daily, but even if it was, it still wouldn’t be my secret to tell,” she said evenly, crossing her arms on her chest. “How did you feel back in the day when you still had chronic health issues? When they took one look at you, they knewsomething wasn’t quite right, and so they immediately started underestimating you?”
Steve just gritted his teeth, glaring. What the hell did that have got to do with that?
“And I’m sorry, what is it that you’re doing now?” she asked, a tinge of sarcasm to her voice. “I don’t hear you telling the team-“
Steve felt his hands curl into fists, the arm in his sling protesting against the move – but honestly, the flame of spite burned it away, taking over any sign of pain at the moment.
Was she serious?!
“The team isn’t assigning her to missions! They don’t need to know everything, they aren’t the ones unknowingly sending her to the field injured and it pain-“
“Oh, so it’s not the fact I didn’t tell you, it’s that you’re feeling guilty-“
“She could get herself killed, Natasha!” Steve snapped, fist hitting the table, droplets of coffee staining the surface just like the breathiness stained his voice, the nausea hitting him anew, his head spinning. “Did you think of that?! I can’t protect her—I can’t protect this team if I don’t have all the information! The pain doesn’t seem to affect functionality, but what do I know? I’m safe, not being hunted for sport. It might affect her range one of those days and it can get her hurt and killed! A second of hesitation, a second of not being at absolute best and she can catch a knife, a bullet, be kicked down the stairs or off a damn cliff, too weakened to hold on a railing and fall to her damn death, she can be taken and tortured-"
He didn’t register the burn in his chest intensifying until it was too late; images flickering in his mind, the blood staining his shirt and his hands dripping with it and yours, the stupid thigh-highs that would have driven him mad except they were soaked with your blood, your voice feeble, your shaking slippery hands suddenly appearing around a metal bar, cold wind slapping his face, biting into his skin, hand reaching out just a second too late, your screams, Bucky’s scream, like a hive in his skull-
Small warm hands on his shoulders, one barely laid there, the other squeezing hard, a harsh inhale through his burning windpipe.
“Steve. Look at me.”
Steve obliged, blinking the images away even as they persisted stubbornly, Natasha’s face, now softer, filling his vision, his chest rising and falling a little too fast, a stab of pain with every breath, dark spots dancing around Natasha’s concerned features.
Great.
Just great.
Fuck.
“Sorry.”
She just smiled, shaking her head and slowly letting go, stepping back to the counter and leaning on it, propping up on both palms. Steve’s face burned with embarrassment and too much oxygen, but he could not let that distract him from his point. And apparently, neither could Natasha.
“I hear you, Steve. I do. But you know me better than to think that I haven’t consider that,” she reminded him softly, and as much as Steve hated it, he had to admit that it was the truth. She did care about you too. She wouldn’t willingly gamble with your life.
God his chest and his throat was on fire.
“But she’s an adult, Steve. She’s an agent, a damn near perfect one. She knows best what she can and cannot handle. Whatever she’s facing… she’s working through it the best way she can at any given moment and she is at her best. We might not approve of her methods, but as long as it doesn’t affect her performance during missions, not approving and trying to convince her to change her ways is all we can do, especially if we don’t want to lose her – professionally or otherwise.”
Steve gulped, pointedly choosing to ignore the last bit as he considered Natasha’s words, however reluctantly. “We sure as well do not approve-“
“Shocking,” Natasha uttered dryly, one corner of her lips rising in a smirk despite her sincerity, as she kept advocating for her decisions as much as yours, now that Steve thought about it, remaining. “But it’s still her choice. Her body – her choice. Her methods. Careful, Steve, or you might end up sounding patronizing and controlling.”
Now against that, Steve had to protest.
“Hey, I don’t—”
Natasha only arched her eyebrows, lifting one hand to demonstrate a tiny space between her thumb and forefinger.
Steve’s shoulders sagged as he ran his hand down his face, the pain in his cheek at the action, and the insistent pain in his chest reminding him mockingly he was being a bit of a hypocrite and not being controlling and patronizing was exactly what he had been trying to do until he found out that Natasha… knew.
He sighed, glancing at her again, met with her smile, surprisingly inviting, considering he was practically yelling just a moment ago. It was a smile that felt familiar; laced with affection for her dumbass overbearing friend. Because she was his friend – and yours too. Perhaps better than he had thought.
“Did… did she tell you?”
“Does it matter?”
He remained silent, knowing she’d understand without him saying a single word.
It does to me.
And he wanted to know. Needed it. Even if the answer being yes was just going to hurt him more – not because you trusting Natasha with this wasn’t a good thing, but because that would mean you had trusted Natasha and not him. Which would be completely understandable, given your track record with him until recently, but it still stung like son of a bitch, because goddamnit he should have known.
“She didn’t. I’m not that special,” Natasha stated, her smile turning a tad sad and ironic. “Her methods are pretty universal, keeping it secret from the whole team. No exceptions.”
It might have been rather mean of him – and he did not like how isolated you truly were and had been – but that actually made him feel a little better.
Especially since after today, it seemed that might change.
“Well, hopefully those methods will change,” Steve hinted, feeing tension melting off his body, lips once again spreading into a smile, even if a little shy one, warmth blossoming again where the rage had been turning his insides into a wasteland.
Natasha smirked a bit, mischief and amusement glimmering in her irises. “Got the Cap speech, did she?”
“…something like that, yeah.”
At that, she smiled wider; way too knowing to Steve’s liking. And yet, he felt his cheeks ache with how wide he was smiling now, a ghost of your touch caressing his hand.
“I see. Well. A piece of advice?” Natasha offered, not waiting for a confirmation of Steve actually wanting it. “Do try to remember she is a big girl – ties her own shoes, does her taxes and all that, okay? Do not screw it up by acting like you need to sweep in and save her from everything including herself. Please. You both deserve a win.”
At that, Steve sighed, but genuinely tried to etch her words into his brain, because he had been told before – and had to admit it was not an incorrect assessment – he could get rather overbearing, even as his intentions were good.
So yes, he’d try. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that as fragile as the bond you had begun to build was, you were everything but. He fully agreed with Natasha’s point; he had even told you so. You were meeting his perhaps too high standard a little too well. That was one of the reasons why you captivated him. He just needed to remember that when he’d feel like locking you in the tower and never sending you to another mission again in order to keep you safe.
Not that you wouldn’t be able to escape, be in in physical or spectral form, because you were simple that capable.
“Duly noted,” he grumbled.
Natasha grinned, lightly tapping his shoulder.
“Good boy. Now, this had better be the only cup of coffee you get,” she pointed at the half-drunk cup, her voice allowing protests. “You need to rest for god’s sake. You’ve got shot. Twice, apparently. Jesus, Steve. Talk about hypocrisy.”
“Alright, alright. Quit being bossy. I’m still the Captain, you know.”
“Oh boooo. Trembling in my shoes, Captain,” she retorted cheekily.
Steve mirrored her smirk, knowing she wasn’t actually undermining his authority. Only calling him out… which was rather fair. And he needed that sort of people in his life, he had enough self-awareness to know that.
And he’d listen to her too. Once he’d complete all the tasks he had planned, especially the report; because while there were things he wished to remember, there was still the majority of the mission that he’d rather put it behind him forever.
But since his watch just vibrated with a high-priority message from an operative of the highest-level, he had to add meeting them to the list.
The fact that operative was Coulson – the current director of SHIELD and your former boss – was both rather soothing, and worrisome.
Next chapter
Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist
HA. Not me having to pokerface hard when some of you told me that Daisy would be the number one shipper or that Coulson would weep and I already had a line about it three full chapters ahead (so like five chapters ahead) 🤭
Thank you for reading! Feedback, as always, is appreciated, and keep me inspired when I'm in the pit of despair, thinking I will never finish another chapter (which is shocking right, when I write them 15k long... well). May your days be sweet to you as Steve was to Spectre 💗
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#captain america x reader#captain america imagine#captain america x you#captain america#agent reader#inhuman reader#avenger reader#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#back and forth#anika ann
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do you ever think Aziraphale watches the sunset
the cotton candy sky
and is just reminded of a certain starmaker and the time they made the stars together
#bee’s headbops#the colors are similar is all i’m saying#like faint echos#of a time before earth was ever created#it is just a fraction of that reflected beauty#and yet Aziraphale can’t help but remember as he looks out across the sky after arriving home from hanging out with Crowley#and he can’t help but smile to himself as he thinks about how nothing has changed from all those years ago#he would rather keep seeing the whole beauty that is Crowley#than whatever fraction that angel left behind#because Crowley is just so much more#good omens#good omens 2#aziraphale#crowley#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#ineffable spouses#the starmaker
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Can Danny see the Forbidden Shrimp Colors?
Like, as Phantom.
Because his eyes are goo.
They are not ACTUALLY human eyes with human limitations, nor possess human eye rods and cones etc. They are human SHAPED Ectoplasmic goo. That is working as the "Eye sight" area of his goo body. Honestly, it's the same question with his hearing etc. But SPECIFICALLY?
Does he get? Some sort of FULL spectrum sight?
Do ghosts and ghosts ALONE... see the world as it ACTUALLY is? Actually, genuinely, looks like? I know humans can tell apart more shade of green then most if not all other species. And a host of other things. But other animals have specialized sight too.
Do ghosts just get? All of it? Because that's just... Sight.
They no longer NEED specialized this or that, to hunt for food or escape predators. Their bodies are no longer bound by species specific limitations. Unless they, you know, felt like it.
Just?
Imagine what that must be LIKE? You transform and the world transforms with you. Everything becoming technicolor. BEYOND color. Depth and complexity, shades you don't have names for. The sky, the grass, trees and the BIRDS in them. All completely different.
An ocean of Shades, peacefully wandering along. Never destined to become Ghosts. Heading towards this afterlife or that. Some just sitting and watching the birds. Not even from just humans. The ground is covered by the Shades of plants long past. There are birds long gone floating along, off to some bird afterlife.
You can't even touch them.
They're like mist. Visible, but as solid as water vapor and reflecting light. They disappear when you transform back.
You can SEE more of space, of the atmosphere and the magnetic fields, of the folds of reality itself, then you ever thought were possible. You'll NEVER be able to put a name to even a fraction of the colors or shades. It's beautiful. Dances.
It's also gone when you transform back.
You won't be able to hear it anymore either. Or any other song and sound that rings out. That hums and buzzes, rumbles and croons. It will feel like climbing back inside a box too small for you and shutting the lid. Right up until it doesn't. Because the brain is a powerful thing, and you always seem to forget, how MUCH everything is.
Because you'd be unable to take it, if you couldn't let it go. If you couldn't keep forgetting. If being human didn't fit.
But it's cool.
You can see shrimp colors.
@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation
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What if reader had a little too much sake and Mizu has to take care of them and reader goes on a tangent about how beautiful they are and how much they love her. It’s silly but I think it can be so sweet to see mizu loved like that!
𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬
𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗗𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗸!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗵𝗼𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘁- 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟵𝟯𝟳
𝐀/𝐍: 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗴𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗰𝘂𝘇 𝗜'𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝗮𝗱
“y’know wha- i’ve alway thought you were th’prettiest person around.” you slurred. Mizu raised a skeptical eyebrow, a rare crack in her usual stoic demeanour. The dimly lit room seemed to shimmer a bit as the effects of the sake intensified for you. With an awkward stumble, you attempted to express your admiration more coherently.
Mizu couldn't deny the warmth that blossomed in her chest, touched by your tipsy admiration. “You're like a beautiful flower. A flower in a world of... water,” you stumbled over your words, your enthusiasm evident despite the alcohol-induced haze.
"Eyes, like a calm lake under the moonlight, dark hair, like the night sky. A masterpiece, Mizu," you declared with a tipsy grin.
Mizu sighed, torn between irritation and a subtle hint of amusement. She found herself caught in a situation she never anticipated – nursing a drunk companion who seemed determined to shower her with affection. As you continued your heartfelt monologue, she couldn't help but notice the sincerity behind your words.
"I never knew you had a poetic side," Mizu remarked, her eyes softening just a fraction. "But you need to sober up. That’s enough for tonight.”
Undeterred, you clumsily reached out, attempting to cup her face with unsteady hands. "No, no, stay with me please."
Mizu's stony facade wavered for a moment as she gently pushed your hands away. "You're not in your right mind. Drink some water," she suggested, trying to redirect the conversation.
But you persisted, your intoxicated enthusiasm unwavering. "Water won't change how I feel about you." Mizu, accustomed to being the strong and silent type, found herself caught off guard by your declarations. She guided you towards a glass of water, a subtle rosiness tinted her normally composed expression.
As you rambled on about love and beauty, Mizu discovered that even the most stone-cold hearts could be stirred by unexpected warmth. Between your slurred words and giggles, she discovered a deeper connection, one that went beyond the usual interactions.
The first light of dawn painted the room in soft hues, Mizu settled you into a makeshift bed, tucking you in with a care that contradicted her usual tough exterior. "Sleep it off. We can talk about this when you're sober," Mizu whispered, her fingers brushing through your hair.
The vulnerability at that moment was a shared secret, a bridge between two souls who had unexpectedly found solace amid intoxication. Eventually, as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, you drifted into a peaceful slumber, leaving Mizu to reflect on the whimsical and endearing moments of the night.
Sitting beside your peacefully sleeping form, Mizu's eyes traced the details of your flushed face. She found herself captivated by the vulnerability in your slumber, the chaotic charm that had surfaced in your intoxicated state. For a moment, her stoic demeanour wavered as a faint smile played on her lips.
Gazing down at your exposed shoulder, Mizu felt a strange mix of emotions. She raised an arm to adjust your clothing to keep your decency. Until a hand grasped hers, Mizu froze, your fingers gently closed around hers. The warmth of your touch sent a subtle shiver down her spine, and for a moment, she hesitated. Her stoic façade wavered as she met your gaze, searching for any sign that your mumbled words held a deeper meaning.
A soft smile played on your lips as you stirred, your eyes half-lidded and filled with a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. "I love you so much, you'll stay with me right?" you repeated, the question carrying an unexpected weight.
Mizu's blue eyes, usually as serene as a still pond, betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. She considered the unspoken implications of your words, the subtle shift in the air that seemed to hold the promise of something more intimate.
A moment of silence lingered between you, the room bathed in the soft hues of dawn. Then, Mizu nodded, her fingers gently intertwining with yours. "I'll stay," she replied, her voice a whispered assurance that held a depth beyond the surface.
As you settled back into a peaceful slumber, Mizu remained seated by your side. The room, once filled with the remnants of drunken revelry, now transformed into a sanctuary of quiet intimacy. The dawn light painted soft patterns on the walls, casting a warm glow on both of you.
Mizu found herself studying the contours of your face with a newfound tenderness. The lines that had surfaced in your sleep added a layer of authenticity to the moment. It was as if the sake-induced confessions had paved the way for a connection that transcended the usual boundaries.
Unspoken emotions lingered in the air, and Mizu couldn't help but acknowledge the subtle shift in the dynamic. The touch of your hand had breached the walls she had carefully erected, inviting a closeness that went beyond the camaraderie.
In the quiet intimacy of that morning, Mizu realized that sometimes, unexpected moments held the power to rewrite the scripts of our lives. As the sun rose higher in the sky, casting a warm embrace over the room, Mizu committed herself to staying by your side, not just in the aftermath of a drunk night but in the unfolding chapters of a story that seemed destined to be written in shared glances, whispered words, and the gentle entwining of fingers.
#blue eye samurai#mizu brainrot#blue eye samurai x reader#fanfic#mizu blue eye samurai#mizu x reader#mizu x you#bes#fic#x reader#fluff#sweet tooth#drunk confessions#bes mizu#giving her everything#I love my wife#i need her so bad#i love women#women are so pretty#women are so hot#women are so cool#women are so beautiful#hehehhe#teehee#clawing at the walls#let me have this#hungry thoughts#quenchyourthirst#thirst quencher#eat up guys
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Just seen your sfw & nsfw alphabet for gojo (my current obsession) and I think your grasp of his character is really good. I'm all for he's an all or nothing type. If you break through those walls he's all in. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for how he'd be if his f partner was a virgin and not very used or comfortable with being vulnerable or exposed.
hi angelcake, i wrote a lil bit of a fic instead (sorry) !! if this doesn't answer your question, shoot me another one and i'll write some delicious headcanons instead ♡ thank you for requesting, love ♡
𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞?
gojo satoru x virgin f!reader
“fuck, you’re so beautiful,”
satoru nips at your neck, the two of you grinding against one another on the couch. the apartment was cold, and the only light in the room was the low light of the television reflected against you and your boyfriend. it was playing some show you two stopped watching a while ago, the quiet dialogue between two characters on-screen humming behind satoru’s soft pants.
it felt good. satoru was a little needy; his hands running all over your body, pushing his own further into yours to try and be any closer than he was now.
it felt good, you thought. or it was supposed to.
anxiety started to pull you out of what was a moment of ecstasy. you became a little too aware of it all–how his body felt on yours, the way your hands rested effortlessly onto his back, how your hands were clammy, and your lips might be chapped, and your hair might be tangled, and-
“hey now,”
satoru catches his breath and runs the back of his hand on your cheek.
“you okay?”
his voice was soft, gentle, and concerned. it was safe. he was safe.
“i’m…um-”
your voice trailed off as your eyes darted to anywhere but his face. you settled on looking down into his lap.
“sorry. yeah, i’m fine. sorry about that,” you said.
satoru shuffled a bit more to get a better look at your face. something about the light coming off of the tv made your eyes look more watery than usual. but you had a soft blush on your face, and your lips were pouted and puffy. you looked perfect.
“we don’t have to go any further if you don’t wanna,”
“it’s okay, satoru, really,”
“have you ever…done this before, love?”
“um, sure–plenty of times,”
your lie must’ve been bad, because satoru saw right through you. he squeezed your hand in his and laughed when he answered.
“ah, i see, i didn’t realize i was with an expert in the field”
he was joking to make you feel better, but your face definitely got hot. you looked up to see him laughing, not daring to let go of your hand as he searched for what to say next.
“oh, shut up, satoru, i don’t know,” you make a weak attempt at defending yourself, “i’m nervous,”
your honesty makes his gaze soften into yours. he finally lets go of your hand to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.
“we can go however far you want, okay?”
you nod as you feel emotions well up in your eyes.
“good to keep going, baby?”
“yeah, s’okay, satoru,”
he hums in agreement as he kisses you again, slowly working up to the pace you were at before.
it feels good. for real this time. you mean it when you think it, and you think it when you feel it. he feels good.
you stop a bit when satoru’s hand settles on the edge of your shirt, slowly lifting it. you pause as the cool air just touches the exposed skin, and satoru stops.
“is this okay?”
he’s whispering now, slowly speaking in front of your mouth as to not startle you, hurt you, or break you. simply treating you like he loves you.
you think on it for a fraction of a second, suddenly self conscious of anything you’ve ever done or been in your life.
and then you snapped back into it. satoru’s hand on your side, waiting for direction, while the other one was just underneath your jaw, holding onto your neck like he’d be lost at sea without it tethering you to him.
he was close, patient, and accepting. you figured no matter what the direction was next, he’d be okay with it. he’d listen if you were uncomfortable, if you needed to stop, if you felt self conscious; it all mattered to him in ways unexplainable.
it’s because he did love you. he wasn’t doing these things like he loved you–it’s because already does. a lot, really. an unfathomable amount. it doesn’t matter if you wanted to fuck now or ten years down the line. it would be with you. you’d be together, and the details would just fall into place after that. he was sure of it, and you were just coming around to realizing that now.
“s’okay, satoru,”
he leaned in more to kiss you sweetly, nodding his approval for your consent as he carefully lifted your shirt off. he followed suit shortly after, taking his off with your help in solidarity.
“god, you’re so beautiful”
this was the second time tonight he’s said that, in addition to the heaps of times the words have fallen out before today. it felt different tonight though. satoru could not be looking at you more when he said it. he said it like he was reciting a prayer–if he didn’t say those words it would kill him.
it made you bashful. you found yourself instinctively covering your exposed torso up and looking away.
satoru took your wrists in his hand.
you lean in to kiss him as he stands up to take off his pants, his erection suddenly obvious as his boxers try to contain it. naturally, your eyes point towards it. satoru’s quick to lift your chin to meet his line of sight.
“hey, eyes on me, sweetheart,” he smirks, “you okay?”
you’re at eye-level to his belly button, a soft white line of hair dancing down into his boxers. you hold his waist in your hands, using it to steady yourself as you rise to your feet.
“‘m okay, love, really,”
satoru kneels down to remove your pants and panties, pressing his face to your tummy to be close to you. he peppers a small parade of kisses across your waist as he gently palms your ass in his calloused hand.
he rises up to meet you again, taking your jaw in one of his hands.
“are you still okay with this?”
his genuine care makes you melt a little, finding yourself clenching your thighs together at his sweet remarks for consent.
“mhm, please satoru, ‘m ready”
he leans in once more, kissing you a little feverishly than before, and holding your entire head in his hands as he pulls you closer to mold your body into his.
“sure, baby, just follow my lead,”
#٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ love letters#𓆩♡𓆪 satoru#gojo satoru#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#satoru gojo#satoru smut
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Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Summary: Two people hate how much they love each other
Authors note: get ready for some filty smut and toxic relationship Rafe
Rating: smut, 18+, mdni
Warnings: explicit mature themes, choking, spitting, hitting, dirty talk, etc.
Part 2: Love
_________________
“Oh I hate that man. I hate that man. But oh, cara Mia, how I love him.”
This can’t be happening.
Was the mantra that played in my head on a constant loop as I stared at the red dress that hung neatly in the closet.
Pougelandia seemed like a dream at this point. A beautiful dream that’s been shattered by the ever waking nightmare I’m currently in.
My heart lurched in my chest as I thought about my friends. I should have listened when John B and Pope told me to leave the pilot but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let that be another thing that happened to me.
Reaching my hand out, I let my fingers graze the fabric of the dress. It slipped through my fingers easily, the fabric clearly being the most expensive thing I’ve ever worn.
A shudder ran through me as I tugged the dress off the hanger and slipped it on. Pushing the hair out of my face, I let out a shaky breath and forced myself out of the room.
I wiped my hands nervously on the gorgeous ruby dress, swallowing down the hysterical need to cry.
My eyes danced along the gorgeous house that was my prison. Wood stained columns decorated each room with what I assumed were valuable artifacts on display. The wooden arch entry way had stained glass windows that caused hundreds of colored reflections to sparkle along each and every room.
Sliding my hand along the wooden railing on the stairs, I slowly made my descent, hoping that the knocking of my knees wasn’t noticeable. A maid greeted me at the bottom of the stairs, her smile soft as she held out her hand in the direction she wanted me to go.
“This way, miss.”
I tried to send a smile back but I’m sure it came off as more of a grimace.
“Would you like a drink?” She asked, stopping at a small bar cart to the right of an open door.
“Yes, thank you.” I cleared out, stumbling over my words.
I needed several drinks just to get through this.
The maid said nothing and simply placed a glass tumbler in my hand filled with dark liquor. I brought it to my lips and took a huge gulp, relishing in the burning sensation that wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
It seemed to take the edge off and made the next few steps easier.
She motions for me to enter the room beside the bar cart and so I do, my fingers tightening on the glass.
Stepping in, I hovered by the door, taking in the room in front of me, and saw no one. Taking another drink from my glass, I shuffled further in at the sound of movement coming from the other side that was obstructed by the door.
A towering figure stood on the other side of the room, his back facing me as he made himself a drink.
My stomach tightened for some reason.
I took stock of just how well dressed this man was. His navy blue suit seemed to be tailored to fit his tall build and reeked of wealth. He was at least six foot and had an air of superiority around him. His presence almost seemed overpowering simply due to his height.
Tingles shot up my spine as something felt familiar about him.
Only one person has ever made me feel this way.
Pushing back the thought, I cleared my throat. “Um, excuse me?”
The figure turns around and our eyes connect instantly causing all air to leave my body.
His ice blue eyes widen for a fraction of a second before settling on my face. A soul penetrating stare that shook me to the core.
My grip on the glass loosened causing it to fall and shatter into thousands of pieces. Similar to how he left my heart.
Rafe Cameron.
He looked the same yet different. The eyes that I used to stare in night after night were intense and brilliant. They held hope for the future and were ironically innocent.
The man in front of me was different. His gaze had now hardened as though he experienced something dark. Those Arctic blue orbs were enigmatic and cold, no sign of innocence or hope.
The dark dirty blonde strands I once threaded my fingers in as an anchor while he kneeled in between my legs and drove me to ecstasy were gone. His hair was nearly buzzed down to the scalp giving him the appearance of a hard and refined grown man.
The once party hungry frat boy was gone, replaced by something much darker. Much colder.
The air around us was electrifying, almost to the point of suffocation.
Rafe stared down at me, his piercing blue eyes never leaving mine, not one word being said.
But I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking it too.
Memory after memory played in my head causing my cheeks to turn hot. Him taking me on the counter with my legs thrown over his shoulder. Me bent over his bike as he ruthlessly pounds into me from behind, my long hair wrapped around his hand. Rafe pinning me down by the throat as he fucks me savagely on the top deck of the yacht.
I was practically vibrating at this point, a flash of heat hitting my center, throbbing and aching for relief.
I dragged my eyes away, needing to break the connection, ignoring the familiar rush of those intoxicatingly intense feelings that always came attached to Rafe Cameron.
A gold glint catches my eyes and for the second time today, I’m rendered motionless. Speechless.
On his wrist, familiar gold cuff links decorated the sleeved cuff on his shirt.
One’s that had my initials.
I couldn’t hide the pained look I knew painted my face. Of course, he would be behind this. There was no line he wouldn’t cross in order to get what he wanted.
I learned that the hard way. The only thing that mattered to Rafe was the gold and the approval of his psychotic father. That fact was just as painful to swallow as the first time.
Months later and he still managed to thoroughly destroy whatever pieces of me exist.
I hate this man. I hate this man.
My feet moved on their own accord stopping only when we’re less than a foot apart.
My hands clenched into fists and something inside of me snapped. Slamming them down on his chest, I let out a shout and shoved him as hard as I could.
I barreled into Rafe again, my hands hitting his chest as hard as I can but he doesn’t move an inch. His tall frame remained in place no matter how hard I tried to shove and hit him.
Frustrated, angry tears gathered in my eyes as I let out a distressed noise. “I knew you and Ward were behind this shit.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly and was replaced by a cold dark look.
“Be fucking serious. Are you trying to weasel in on my deal right now? Is that what’s going on?” He spat, his eyes narrowed as he bent down to my height until his face filled my vision.
An empty laugh escaped my lips as I shook my head at him with disgust,” Yes, I decided to fly to Barbados to come and ruin your deal because the entire world revolves around you.”
Rafe let out a harsh breath that made me close my eyes tightly. His entire smell engulfed my senses.
Peppermint, apples and expensive cologne whirl through my nose as my defective and traitorous heart pounds loudly in my chest.
“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know.” A voice from the connected room mused.
At the sight of an unfamiliar figure, Rafe moved in front of me quickly blocking my view of the man. He made a noise and tucked me behind him.
Butterflies erupt at the move, pounding away at the wall I built around my heart. I peaked under his arm and saw a short man in a suit. His olive tone skin complementing his dark hair and groomed beard that decorated his face.
“Who are you?” Rafe asked, his stance never wavering.
I dug my nails into his suit jacket as I waited for a response.
“My name is Carlos Singh. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He answered, buttoning the front of his jacket.
“I apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here. Please come, I don’t bite.” Singh gestured to the seating area, an insincere smile on his face.
Stepping around Rafe, I cautiously look around the room before turning my gaze to him.
He subtly shook his head but I chose to ignore it and settle myself on the couch.
He didn’t get to tell me what to do.
Rafe’s eyes darkend as he muttered something harshly under his breath. Rubbing his head, he moves to where I sat angling his body slightly in between Singh and I.
“Rough tactics? What about me?”
“Ah, yes Mr. Cameron. False pretenses.”
Singh goes on a tangent describing some sort of treasure that I have no interest in and by the blank look on Rafe’s face I can see he feels the same.
“I didn’t listen to a word you said, okay? How much longer you gonna keep philosophizing?”
His words were oozing with boredom as he took a seat next to me. The warmth of his body near me made me jolt.
Clearing my throat, I stood up and took a seat in a single chair, ignoring the chuckle from Singh and the glare from Rafe.
“You’re rather direct, aren’t you Mr. Cameron?” The look on Singh’s face was threatening.
My stomach dipped with nerves at the unspoken threat in his words. I opened my mouth, hoping to distract Singh,” What do you want with me and my friends?”
“There’s a diary. The diary of Denmark Tanny. It leads to the cross of Santa Domingo and since you and your friends had the cross, you must have the diary.”
That’s what this was about?
I could already see the question in Rafe’s eyes as he zeroed in on my face. I kept my face blank, knowing despite my desire to, I couldn't tell him anything.
Tearing my gaze away from his, I told Singh,” We don’t have the diary. I dont know where it is.”
Rafe’s face hardened. His jaw clenched in anger as he looked away from me. It was unsettling.
Singh was clearly displeased as he called out for guards, tsking under his breath. Two armed guards come into the room and stall in my direction making me fumble backwards.
Rafe shielded me immediately holding up his hand,” Don’t touch her. We’re cooperating.”
The men gesture the desired direction with their guns causing Rafe’s hand to tighten its grip on mine. Singh follows closely behind clicking his tongue against his teeth.
We’re forced into a bedroom. A bedroom only sporting one bed.
No. No. No.
“Please enjoy your stay. I suggest you convince her to tell you where the diary is. You should know that I am not so forgiving nor am I patient.”
The click of a lock had me turning around in panic. Rafe moved instantly, tugging the handle harshly but it didn’t give. He hit the door in frustration letting out a curse.
I was wrong. This was the worse thing to ever happen. Rafe and I being locked together, in a room, alone.
“Try again.” I demanded, my voice raising in hysteria.
“I already did. It’s locked from the outside.”
Pushing him out of the way, I called out while banging on the door. My grip tightly on the handle as I tried to pull it open.
My calls came unanswered. Despair filled every cell in body as I took in the reality of the situation. Resting my head on the cool surface of the door, I breathed in deeply willing myself to calm down.
Warmth appeared behind me. “Are you okay-“
I pushed myself off the door and walked around him, ignoring his words entirely. I could do this. My friends will be here soon and I just had to last until then.
I couldn’t let Rafe Cameron break me for the fourth time. Not when I’ve finally glued all the pieces back together.
At the sound of a vehicle approaching and shouts of terror, I moved to the window pulling the curtains back. Rafe appeared next to me as we both peered outside through the glass.
One man in a beige bullet proof vest is dragging a man against his will while another strapped with a gun followed close behind.
“Who the hell is that guy?”
Recognition filled me as I stare at the guy being dragged away. “I know him. It’s Jimmy Portis.”
At my words, Rafe’s face turned to mine. I could feel him staring at me, wanting to know more but I couldn’t pull away from the scene in front of me.
“He was trying to help us.”
Seconds later, Singh appeared with a smug smile and a wave. Reaching behind his waist, he pulled out a gun.
My fingers tightened on the curtain.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rafe said, his palm landing on my stomach and pushed me back gently, away from the window.
“Rafe-“ My words are cut off.
“No.” His tone left no room for negotiation as he placed himself in front of me, as though he was attempting to shield me from what happened next.
A gun shot goes off.
A shriek passes my lips as I bring my shaky hands to my mouth. Rafe didn’t even flinch. Instead, he licked his lips and turned to me.
“This diary. Hey, no bullshit,” He warns, “Dont bullshit me, Okay? Do you have it?”
His dark eyes searched mine and I fought the urge to give in. He was like a tsunami that constantly threatened to drag me under. Every sense filled with him.
I used to give him everything. Until, he couldn’t do that same. I knew, I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth.
“No.”
“Your lying.” Yes.
“Let’s both stop pretending that you know everything about me.” I deflected, as I pushed him away from me.
Distance, I repeated in my head. Get some distance.
“Baby, we both know I do. The only one pretending here is you,” his lips widened in a harsh smile, one that threatened to eat me alive, “Now, tell me about the diary.”
“We don’t have it. Do I have to add deaf to the list along with psychotic and delusional?”
Rafe takes a threatening step forward causing me to take a step back. “I’m gonna ignore that comment.”
“Still doesn’t change the fact that we don’t have it.”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your lying right now. You want to know how I know?”
Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, Rafe steps in front of me swarming me from all sides. “You pick at the skin on your nails.”
Closing my eyes briefly, my stomach sinks because he was right.
I hated it him. I hated how he knew every little thing about me. I hated how he weaponized my reaction towards him again and again.
“Step. Back.”
“No, your useless friends put you in this situation. I’m trying to get us out. Where’s the diary?”
At the mention of my friends, a fire of anger ignited inside me. “Don’t talk about them like that. At least, I have them. Who do you have? Barry?”
“Have them? Where were they when you got taken? Look where we fucking are.”
“They didn’t have a choice. It was my fault anyway.”
“Why are you defending them?” Rafe asked me, staring at me with such exasperation. “Because of them, you’ve been in so much shit. Look where you are right now. They’re low lives. Stop being delusional.“
“And what,” My voice shook with anger, “be with you instead? You think your such an upgrade? Last time I checked you’re a frat boy with a coke addiction riddled with daddy issues. How could you be any better than them?”
I hated the person he turned me into. I never liked hurting anyone and here I was hurling every insult I could at him. I was consumed with the need to hurt him just as bad as he hurt me.
“Is this some knew kind of foreplay? Because, if it is, it’s working.”
“That’s what you got from that?”
He sends me a bored look. “What else could it mean?”
“Um, exactly what I said.”
“I don’t get it.” Rafe had the audacity to actually look confused.
“You’re crazy. You have to be.”
He nodded his head like this mad perfect sense. “Well, yeah. For you. I thought I made that clear.”
“When? You were too busy lying to me.”
“This again?”
“Just sit down and shut up.” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re already giving me a migraine.”
“I knew I still had an effect on you.”
“Not a good one.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
Ignoring his pretty words and charm was the only way I could survive this.
“Rafe, just stay on the side of the room and I’ll stay on mine. My friends are going to come so until then just keep to your damn side.”
He clenched and unclenched his hands as he regarded me. “And if they don’t come?”
“They will.” God, I hope so.
“So much faith in them.” Rafe said quietly, shaking his head in my direction before looking away. “Where’s your faith in me?”
“Gone. Kind of like your soul.”
I felt my pulse in my throat. His eyes turned brutal as he slowly traced his thumb along his bottom lip, almost assessing what he was going to do next.
He looked like he was going to eat me alive.
The ache in between my legs ignited again, the pulse almost unbearable.
“I can protect you.”
“Protect me? All you’ve ever done is hurt me.”
Rafe stared at me with humor as his eyebrows raised expectantly, “The only time I ever hurt you, is when you asked for it.”
Heat flashed into my cheeks. Flashbacks of my pleas for him to choke me and punish me hit me like a truck.
A frustrated noise left my lips as I grabbed a book from the dresser and threw it in his direction. “I hate you.”
No I don’t.
The humor left his blue eyes instantly as he clenched his jaw. “Watch it.”
“No. You think you can protect me?” I asked incredulously, my hands finding a remote next and I throw it at his head. “We’re in the same fucking room, Rafe.”
He side stepped the remote I threw at him easily, shaking his head. He begins to unbutton his suit jacket, his piercing blue eyes brewing a storm.
“I -“ I was momentarily distracted by him removing clothes. “Stop taking off your clothes.”
“You don’t hate me.”
He was insane. That’s what he chose to focus on?
“I do. I hate you. How many times do I have to say it for you to get it through your thick skull?”
The tension between us was stifling almost as thought there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.
“Stop fucking saying that.” Rafe barked, his words rough dropping with a warning.
He undid his cuff links slowly, almost threateningly, like it was a count down for what’s to come.
My eyes narrowed at his threat. Anger and lust consumed me as I tried to fight off the urge to kiss him. Resentment wrapped around my throat.
He takes a step forward.
“Or what?” Gulping, I took a step back. My eyes looking around for something else to throw at his gorgeous face. “Are you gonna tell me you love me? And you think I’ll believe you?”
“I never lied about that.” His tone was almost condescending as he took another steps towards me.
My heart dipped as my blood ran hot and cold. Indecision filled me. This is what he does. He surrounded me, confused me, cornered me until all I could see was him.
“Stop trying to confuse me.” Another step back.
The way he looked at me sucked all the air out of my lungs. His eyes regarded me with such desire it burned me alive. I couldn’t look away.
“You know me. Look at me and tell me I’m lying.” Rafe’s words demanding yet soft.
Blue. His eyes fucking haunted me. I felt myself slowly giving way to the enigma that was Rafe Cameron.
Forcing my eyes away, I spotted a clock on the nightstand by the bed. I reached for it just as he moved towards me.
I pegged it at him. We both watched as the clock hit his chest with a thud and fell onto the floor with a plop.
“I know you enough to know that what you say doesn’t matter.”
He looked like he wanted to kiss me or strangle me. Probably the latter since he was a psychopath.
“This monologue is getting a bit repetitive, don’t you think?”
My gut twisted. “I hate you.”
I did sound like a broken record, but it was the only phrase that seemed to get a reaction out of him.
It was the only weapon I had as every other resolve I had was slowly deteriorating before me.
“Watch your mouth,” Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Don’t say it again.”
A distressed breathe left my lips. I wasn’t winning this deadly game of tug of war.
“Why?” I wanted to break him. I wanted him us to have matching scars. His soul didn’t get to be left unscathed while mine was covered in wounds that didn’t heal.
He was closing in on me at this point. His sleeves now rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons undone revealing the gold necklace I gave him.
Why was he doing this to me?
My fingers grasp the decorative pillow from the bed as I target his head. “Because you know it’s true. At least the people in my life love me. They didn’t pretend to love me to find the gold. They didn’t leave me repeatedly.”
Slapping the pillow out of the way, he stood two feet away from me. “Leave you? You left me.” The words held no emotion, just cold hard facts.
I bring my hand to the side of my face as I shake my head at him in disbelief.
“You chose the gold. Not once, not twice, but three fucking times. You chose to lie to me. Again and again. So I may have left, but the minute you chose the gold over me was the moment you decided I was worth losing.”
I remember the last time I saw him clear as day. The cross was being pulled up by Pope on the crane when I saw a figure with a gun take off running in his direction.
My whole body froze as I took in the person behind the gun. We both regarded each other with shock. I felt my heart break for a second time as I realized how he got the cross.
His guilt ridden eyes stared at me as I realized just how stupid I had been. I begged him to come with us. To leave the cross that was about to fall off the boat and come with me. Tears were streaming down my face as I screamed for him to leave.
To finally choose me. To love me the way I loved him.
It felt like hours when he finally made his decision. And, it wasn’t me. Rafe took off running towards the chain that was tied to the cross as he screamed for help from the crew.
My heart broke for the third and final time. I don’t think I could survive a fourth.
A touch to my face pulled me out of the painful memory. Rafe’s in front of me now, towering above my dainty figure, his fingers grazing my cheek.
“Can you please just let me explain?”
Jerking back, I slapped his hand away from my face.
His eyes flashed,”What? Now I can’t even touch you.”
“I loved you.” I whispered the words causing him to tense. “But, I’m done. I’m so completely and utterly done with you.”
Anger radiated off him in waves and the sudden urge to step back overcame me. Only, when I did the back of my thighs hit the bed.
He’d cornered me into the direction of the bed.
“Loved?” He murmured, almost to himself.
Rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing me slowly. Seeming to have made up his mind, he envelops my very space with his hand threading itself tightly within the roots of my hair at the nape of my neck.
Bending down to my height, his breath fans along my lips causing heat to surge through out my body. He was addictive.
“Just to be crystal fucking clear. You won’t ever be over me. This will never be over.”
Dread sat in my stomach like lead at the truth in his words. He knew it, I knew it. .
My eyes burned. My heart ached. All I knew, in that very moment, was I hated how much I loved him.
He was inevitable. The way we consumed each other was nothing short of catastrophic. We shined too bright that we burned each other.
“Don’t do this to me. Don’t you dare do this to me again.” I pleaded tearfully, begging for him to show an ounce of mercy.
Holding on to us was cruel. Rafe wasn’t going to change for me. He loved in his own way, but it was brutal, obsessive and mad. It was also intoxicating, intense, and painfully beautiful. It was too much.
I used to think I could handle it, because being with him was the only thing that made sense. He made me feel the sweetest high that sent me into a euphoric oblivion.
I thought my love was enough for him. Call me naive, but I wholeheartedly believed that I could help those broken parts of him heal. But Rafe was too broken. All the pieces of him I tried to carry in my arms only cut me in the process as I slowly bled out.
He had taken every piece of me with him. It was hard to tell where I ended and he began.
“Why are you wearing that necklace?” I asked him, the backs of my eyes burning. I needed him to say it. I needed him to tell me and actually mean it.
Rafe shook his head, his blue eyes were soul-wrenching. “You know why.”
My hands trembled as they connect with his shirt, griping the crisp material in desperation.
“Why are you wearing those cuff links?”
Why couldn’t he just say it?
When he didn’t respond to me, I felt the last bit of glue give way and my heart got devoured by grief.
I let go of his shirt. “You’re a coward. You’ve always been a coward.”
His eyes flickered with hurt but I didn’t care. Blind rage filled me and I pushed him. When he didn’t react, I did it again and again screaming out every morsel of pain that threatened to kill me.
It only lasted seconds. Rafe had enough and quickly caught both my wrists in his hands. His face was cruelly beautiful.
It mocked me.
“Calm down.” He ordered, his face a mask of cruel indifference. But, I knew him.
His eyes were filled with cold fury and by the slightly tremble from his body, I knew he was close to losing control.
“I fucking hate you.” I spat the words out vehemently. I watched as the words hit him square in the chest.
He sent me a wolffish grin. “I warned you.”
Rafe shoves me onto the bed trying to pin my squirming body down but I refuse to comply. I try to leverage my legs to buck his heavy body off of me but he only smacks my thigh causing me to suck in a breath.
“Let me go.” The heat of his body seared into me. He smelled like sin and regret.
“Stop fucking fighting me,” Rafe responded with a grunt.
I could feel light coat of sweat start to cover my body, the silk of the dress rubbed against my skin only making the throbbing worse. I kicked my leg out but my dress only slipped further up my body, my thigh now fully exposed.
Rafe’s eyes clocked the newly exposed skin. His distraction bought me enough time shove his shoulders back causing him to stagger.
Pulling my body up, I tried to crawl off the bed but shriek when familiar hands clamped onto my ankles and dragged me back down the bed.
“God, you asshole.”
He ignored me and straddled my hips, his legs pinning me in place. My heart pulsed against my rib cage.
“I’m the asshole? You’ve been throwing shit at me for the past ten minutes.”
Glaring at him, I jerk my arm free with the full intention of slapping him when Rafe catches my hand.
“Stop trying to hit me.” He growled, his patience gone. With rough hands, he grabbed both my wrists and pinned them above my head in one hand. The other gripped my chin tightly, forcing my eyes to his volatile memorizing blues.
“Now that I have your attention. Take it back.” Rafe breathed out harshly.
He waited for me to answer but the words never left my lips. Instead, my entire focus was on the rigid mass of muscles that were pressed against my body.
My dress had entirely pooled at my waist, the lace black thong I wore peaked out from under.
Rafe leaned down and moved his grip on my chin up slightly so my lips pursed out in a pout.
His swipe his tongue against my pouty lips before placing a soft kiss along them. “Take it back.”
The small act made my body feel like it was on fire and the desire to arch my back and beg for more was overwhelming.
The evidence of our struggle was resting hard against my stomach. Desire filled my mouth but I couldn’t let him see that. I tried to jerk my head out of his grasp but he tsked.
Maneuvering his body slightly, he rested himself in between my legs. Slowly reaching in between us, the tough calloused hand I loved having around my throat trailed along my thigh, curling around my knee and hooking it across his waist.
“Oh god…” I couldnt control the whimper that escaped me. My body was wired tight with anticipation at the familiar rush of want threatened to drown me.
His hand trailed back, the bits of his nails scraping along my naked thighs. They catch the waistband of my thong where he teasingly slips a finger underneath.
“I can feel how hot your pussy is.” The words were rough against my lips. “We’re so good together. All you have to do, is take it back.”
“No.” Yes.
His chuckle was throaty almost hoarse as he trembled with barely there restraint. “That fucking mouth.”
Rafe allowed his open palm to travel up my navel, the roughness of his hand contradicting the silk of the dress.
“Please.” I was weak, I was so incredibly weak. I was a trembling mass of limbs under him just at his touch.
The palm of his hand finally trails up between the valley of breasts before curling around my throat tightening possessively.
“Take. It. Fucking. Back.” He emphasized each word with a hot kiss to my lips.
I clamped my eyes shut willing for him to disappear. What do you do when your worst nightmare is also the love of your life?
I felt his forehead rest against mine, his breath heavy against my own. “Don’t say that to me. Say whatever the hell you want, but not that. Never that.”
I slowly opened my eyes. Deep pools of glacial blue stare back at me overwhelmingly beautiful and gloriously mad.
“I didn’t mean it.” The words were spoken softly, barley above a whisper.
Rafe closed his eyes briefly in relief. “You drive me insane.”
A giggle erupted from my chest at the irony of his words because I’m almost certain he’s clinically psychotic. At the sound of my laughter, he opens his eyes and sends me a soft smile that relaxed all the harsh lines in his face.
Lifting a hand to his face, my finger tips slowly smooth out the stressed lines along his eyes.
“My head.”
“What?” I asked letting my hand finally run through the buzzed hair on his scalp, goosebumps erupt on my skin at the thought of it in between my legs.
“It’s finally quiet.”
My hand froze at his honesty and my heart ached for him. The same heart that has now decided to throw all reason outside the window.
I just wanted this pain to go away even for a few moments. He always had the ability to take it away even if he was the one causing it.
I tugged him down gently and he followed me with ease. “Rafe?”
“Yeah, baby?” His eyes darted to my lips.
“Did you miss me?”
A rumble left his chest. “Fuck, I missed you.”
My heart soared at his confession. I dragged the tips of my nails down the curve of his jaw and trail down his throat making him freeze.
At the sight of the familiar gold chain that decorated his neck, my legs clenched around him.
Even apart, he always kept me with him.
Not bothering to look up, I leaned forward with one finger grasping the chain that hit my chest while my lips placed an open mouth kiss along the curve of his neck.
I caught the chain between my lips humming to myself, completely entranced by him. Rafe balled the sheet in his grip by my head but it wasn’t enough. I needed to get it out of him.
Running my nose along the side of his neck inhaling deeply, my tongue slips out gently applying pressure as I drag it up his neck slowly.
Reaching the curve of his jaw, I peppered open mouth kisses like I would his lips. My blood drummed through my ears and need entered my bloodstream.
“Will you fucking kiss me already?” Rafe said gruffly, nipping at my lip.
He stared at me with half lidded eyes, his pupils blown out wide in arousal. “What do I get if I do?”
The filthy smile he shot me was filled with sin.
“I’ll fuck you dumb. Just how you like it.” He put his lips to my ear, the promise in his voice had me shivering in anticipation.
Tilting my head up, I smashed my lips to his causing him to let out a groan of relief. Our kiss was messy and desperate after so much time apart, our teeth clashed as we fought for dominance.
Rafe took over the kiss practically inhaling my very breath as his tongue brushed against mine. His fingers biting into the tops of my thighs as I tilted my hips up against his, desperate for friction.
Pulling back slightly, Rafe’s hand grips my chin roughly forcing my lips into a pout. Breathing harshly, he leaned forward and licked my pursed lips before kissing me again.
Capturing my tongue between his lips, he sucks on the muscle causing me to let out a soft whimper. We separated, our eyes lock on each other filled with lust, both of us breathing hard and accepting our fate.
“You gonna be good for me?”
The ache between my legs was almost painful as I nodded my head at him, begging with my eyes.
Rafe’s hands moved to my waist in seconds has he gathered the scrunched fabric and ripped over my head, leaving me in my black lace thong and nothing else.
His eyes darkened with each passing second as he stared at my body. I leaned back on the palms of my hands and arched my back in invitation.
Rafe traced the curves of my body with his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. His eyes never left my body as he took in every detail.
He looked starved.
Impatiently, I tugged at his shirt and started fumbling with the buttons. Finally the shirt gave way as I pushed it off his shoulders, my hands coming in contact with his built chest, smooth and firm.
His muscles flexed under my touch as I became mesmerized by his body. He had gotten bigger than before, his arms now bulging with muscles.
My fingers trailed down his tight pecs to his abdomen where I let one finger trail along each chiseled ab, my mouth salivating at the thought of tasting each bit of skin.
My breath started coming out in pants. Those blue eyes gleamed at my obvious attraction and the smirk on his lips said enough. His cheeks dusted slightly with pink at my burning undivided attention.
My hand dipped between us to the tent in his slacks and I slowly pressed my palm against the hard bulge. Rafe let out a relieved sigh as his hips pushed against my hand for more pressure.
“Rafe..” I let out a needy whine. The only coherent thought I could form was that I need him inside me.
“Hmm?”
“I want it now.”
He chuckled at my words, licking his lips slowly as he trailed his open palm up my abdomen towards my breasts. Cupping my breast in his hand, he gave it a squeeze before flicking the nub.
My eyes closed tightly, relishing at how his large hands gripped me. His mouth latched onto the hard nub forcing a gasp from me as he sucks and teasingly swipes his tongue around in circles.
He switches his attention to the other causing me to throw my head back in appreciation. My hands held on his head as I pulled him closer to my chest.
Brining his lips back to mine, Rafe nips at my jaw before dragging soft kisses down the size of my neck. I could feel my core start to clench on nothingness due to the level of sensitivity my body was wired on.
His lips latch onto my neck, as he pulled my skin into his mouth, sucking harshly. His hands kneaded into the globes of my ass as he left his mark on my body.
Examining his handy work, Rafe placed small kisses on the several hickeys I knew he left on my neck.
Nothing he did was ever on accident. This I knew he did for a reason, to prove the one point I tried to deny.
We were so good together.
“I’m going to eat you fucking alive.” Harsh words were rasped against my lips as his fingers dipped to my waist, curling around the ribbon of my thong before tugging roughly. The straps gave way as he tore my panties off, quickly tucking them into his pocket.
Now completely bare, Rafe’s fingers dancing across my smooth mound. Unconsciously, my legs opened further at the feeling of his cold rings against my pulsating pussy.
Fuck, those rings.
He glided a single digit along the slit dipping it in between when a low pained moan left his lips.
“You’re dripping on the mattress.”
I didn’t give myself the chance to be embarrassed at his words because the way he was looking at me had me breathless. My brain was blank. Not one explanation came to mind other than him.
He did this to me.
Rafe slips another finger in, the evidence of my arousal being used as lubricant against my clit.
Cursing, he moves off the bed and grabs my hips, tugging me to the edge of the bed where he kneels. Forcing my legs open further, his breathe hits my lips and I can’t hide the tremble in my legs.
His thick ring covered fingers slowly rub my lips before dipping in, separating them slowly in the shape of a ‘V’ opening me up completely under his greedy gaze.
Rafe pushes a finger in, meeting no resistance, and I can feel myself immediately clench around him.
A moan slipped out as he slowly began to thrust in and out while his thumb ghosted along my clit. Slipping another finger in, he begins to pick up his pace, the only sounds to be heard are the squelching of my juices and his hard grunts.
It was obscene how loud the wet noises were but he was eating it up.
Flicking my nub with his thumb, he curled his fingers making me cry out in pleasure. Pulling them out, Rafe finally leans down and drags his tongue from ass to clit.
Prying my lips open, Rafe sticks his tongue indices of me, thrusting in and out. He hummed against my clit, pulling them between his lips and sucking harshly.
“Fuck you for leaving me. I could have had this every day but you took it away from me.” To anyone else, I knew that came off as mean and probably extremely aggressive. But, I knew what he actually meant.
That translated to, I missed you.
My legs were wrapped around his head with my back arched as I rutted my hips against his face. His fingers, which were drenched in my slick, trailed up my stomach and onto my breasts covering me in my juices.
It only made me burn more.
I began to convulse under his brutal assault of my pussy and my nerves were shot. “Oh god, oh god.” I gasped as my fingers dragged along his scalp.
He hand successfully pinned me down by his forearms as he continued to lap at my lips. Rafe circled my clit with his tongue, prodding at it again and again in a relentless assault. Not giving me a moment to breath, he softly bits on the nub at the same time he slams to fingers into me.
A wave of pleasure hits my body and my toes curl in ecstasy with my eyes slammed shut. I could feel myself gushing onto his face as his name comes out in loud chants.
A warm flush passes through my body as I slump against the bed, exhausted. A languid sigh leaves my mouth as I try to catch my breath.
Rafe presses one long kiss against my pussy, his fingers forming a ‘v’ once more to watch as I dripped onto the mattress. I could feel the wetness under my ass but didn’t dare move.
“So fucking pretty.”
Rafe stood up from between my legs and towered over me with dark eyes.
Holy fuck.
Spit and my arousal dripped from chin, his entire mouth and nose glistening from my juices.
His eyes never moved from mine as he lazily began to undo his belt with one hand. Tugging it off his waist, he tossed it to the ground before he began to unzip his pants.
Rafe stepped out of his pants and underwear leaving him completely naked. I had remind myself to properly breathe.
His dark hooded eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
He gripped his hard and heavy cock in one hand letting out a groan. Tilting his head back slightly, he lazily tugged at his cock making my pussy pound with need.
He looked like a Greek god with his head thrown back like that in pleasure.
“Are you fucking me or what?” There was a bite to my words.
Rafe narrowed his eyes at me before languidly stroking his cock a few more times. “Don’t get pissy.”
I opened my mouth to argue then shut it closed as he came into the bed, spreading my legs wide open.
“Look at me.”
My eyes darted up and connected with his darkened blue orbs. Without breaking eye contact, Rafe gathered saliva in his mouth and spits directly onto my pussy while his hands pinned me open.
My chest heaved up on down at the action, making me feel so filthy. He brings the tip to my slit and slaps it gently against my sensitive engorged lips.
A pained whine escaped me at his teasing.
“Someone’s needy.” He mused.
Leaning forward, he slowly pushed in cursing under his breath. My legs were shaking as I furrowed my eyes brows at the intrusion.
I felt full as my eyes glossed over the more he pushed his hips in. I didn’t remember him stretching and making me feel this full.
“Rafe, I dont think-“
“I used to fuck you in the shower, the car, in the fucking boat. You can take me, baby.” He murmured against my lips, taking my bottom lip in between his teeth and tugged gently. “You used to sit on my cock and keep me warm.”
He slides another inch, my cunt sucking him in. I could feel every ridge of his thick hard cock against my quivering walls.
“That’s it. Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” Rafe praised, his hands dancing along my thighs in a loving caress.
I felt myself clench at his words and a wave a clinginess hit me. Mewling for contact, Rafe reads my face with satisfaction as leans over me, giving me the closeness I needed.
My nails dig into his shoulders as he sinks into me further, causing my mouth to open and close like a fish out of water.
I momentarily forgot how to breathe. He completely bottoms out inside me drawing a loud moan from my lips.
“Such a good girl for me,” Rafe muttered, pressing soft kisses along my face. “Your pussy remembers exactly who owns it.”
He let out a deep groan in my ear causing goosebumps to appear. He was so fucking vocal, he knew how to kill me.
“I’m the only one that fucks you the way you need to be fucked, right?”
I ignored the questions, instead focusing my attention on the feel of his cock twitching inside me.
Rafe pulls out before slamming back into me, a scream leaving my lips as my back arched in pleasure.
“Fucking answer me.”
I could barely hear him over the pounding of my ears.
He begins to rut into me, each thrust echoing with sopping wet sounds. My walls quivered and pulsated around his dick.
Slowing down his pace, he pushes my thighs up, folding me in half before slamming into me again. The tip of his dick brushes my cervix making my eyes roll to the back of my head as I gasped for breath.
Rafe’s pace is brutal as he savagely fucks me into the mattress. A choked sob left my mouth as I dug my nails deeper into his skin.
The sound is skin hitting skin echos in the room making me clench even harder. My upper thighs were soaked with my slick and his spit, making the noise all the more dirty.
“Tell me I’m the only one that fucks you like this.”
A gargled noise left my lips as my brain began to short circuit. He only pounded into me harder at my lack of response.
I could only focus on the ceiling as I gasped for my breath.
“You think JJ can get you to forget how fucking breathe?”
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
My eyes were blown wide and my mind completely blank as I mumbled incoherently under him.
“How about Pope? Does he know how to get you break?”
He harshly spat the words, punctuating each sentence with a pistoled thrust. I was a mindless mess under him. My eyes rolled to the back of my head with my mouth dropped open.
“You’re a fucking freak. They don’t know how to handle you. But, I do.”
He needed to stop talking before I blacked out.
Letting go of my legs he tried to move back, but I immediately wrapped them around his waist, wanting to be as close as two people could.
I was a desperate whining mess as I begged him for more.
Roughly grabbing my chin in between his two fingers, his eyes laced with heat. “Open your mouth.”
With wide eyes, my mouth slowly opens and my tongue slides out. Rafe places his mouth over mine before spitting directly onto my tongue all the while slowly thrusting in and out of my gummy walls.
Moving back, he stared at me through half lidded eyes. “Swallow it.”
My brain had turned to mush at this point. I blinked at him before I swallowed his spit, humming under his heated gaze.
“Missed that pretty mouth.”
I clamped down on him at his words. I blushed under his gaze. Rafe dipped his head, connecting our lips, licking his way into my mouth.
Suddenly, I feel him pull out of me causing me to whine in protest at the loss. His hands grabbed my hips in a brutal grip before turning me over onto my stomach.
He tried lifting my hips into position but they were shaking so intensely that I couldn’t hold them up.
“My legs-“ I gasped out gulps of air with my face resting onto the sheets, my hands gripping the sheets into tight balls.
“Come on, baby. Don’t you want to be good for me? Hold up your legs.” He cooed in my ear.
At his demand, I somehow found the strength to push myself up, arching my back as far as I could with my legs shaking.
A guttural groan erupts from his chest as I feel him separate my ass cheeks. Sinking back into me, Rafe begins to truly fuck me into oblivion.
His pace is animalistic, not stopping once. “I’m in your fucking stomach.” He spoke through gritted teeth, his grunts filling the room.
One of his hands trailed up my spine before wrapping itself around the nape of my neck, threading his fingers into my hair and pinned me down.
My cries were muffled into the sheets as he’s grip on my neck tightened possessively.
“Had-Harder, Rafe. Please, please please.” I was babbling on and on with pleads.
He was fucking me so hard I’m almost certain he left an imprint. My eyes began to water from overstimulation as he kept bottoming out against my cervix.
I could slowly start to feel myself spasming against his dick, with each glide and thrust. His hands now holding my hips in a punish grip, sure to leave bruises.
It was too much. I kept forgetting how to breathe and found myself slowly becoming light headed from the pleasure.
Tears began to fall and soak the sheets bellow me as I cried out with whimpers. Choked sobs loudly leave my mouth at him roughly pulling back before grinding back into me.
“You’re so pretty when you cry.”
I went stupid.
He fucked me relentlessly, his palms messaging the fat of my ass before slapping it. Reaching between us, his fingers circle my clit, causing sharp hiss to leave me.
My legs gave out beneath me as tears continued to leak. Rafe didn’t care, instead he continued to piston into me muttering words of praise.
The tightness in my stomach began to build, my toes curling in anticipation. “Oh god. I’m-“
I couldn’t finish my words as my mind went compelled numb, a hot flash a white bursting behind my eye lids. A wave I’ve pleasure snapped as I wailed out his name.
I withered underneath him before my body went completely limp, warm with satisfaction.
He never slowed down. Rafe continued to fuck me through my orgasm as I whined and incoherently begged for more.
I gushed all over his legs, half dazed and mindless.
“W-wanna see your face.” I begged him numbly, needing to see his face when he finished.
“Whatever you want.” Rafe flipped me onto my back before pushing into me once more.
The intrusion has me throwing my head back where he grunted as he dragged his tongue along the side of my exposed neck.
I sobbed to myself. I could taste the salt on my lips and I knew my mascara was running down my cheeks.
My head lolled to the side, my eyes half shut as I stared at him. His neck was tight, and his body tense as him pace began to pick up speed. A new sense of vigour filled him as he rutted into me.
“Rafe, I-I want it.” The words were reckless, but he fucked all my braincells gone.
He was hitting me so deeply, you could see the bulge slightly through my stomach.
A groan ripped out of his mouth, his eyes finding mine. He looked drunk. Drunk off of me.
“You want my cum, baby?”
I nodded stupidly.
“I knew you could take it. Such a good fucking girl for me. So good to me.”
Rafe leaned down and hungrily kissed me, our lips clashing against each other. I panted into his mouth as he rocked into me again and again.
He pulled out before slamming himself back in again and again, grunting and moaning as he fucked the life out of me.
“I’m gonna come inside this pretty pussy.” He grunted against my lips, “I’m gonna fill you up.”
My arms wrapped themselves around his head, forcing his forehead against mine. My eyes stayed on his as I slowly lifted my hips and rocked them against his.
His thrusts begin to stutter as I whispered dirty little nothings to him. I couldn’t control the desire that had me pressing open mouth kisses along his face.
I licked and lapped at his mouth, kissing him roughly.
Rafe began to moan loudly, sweat dripped down the side of his face but I caught it with my tongue.
“Fucking brat.” He cursed out, pinning me down by my throat, the cool metal of his rings soothing my burning skin.
My hand held onto his that was on my throat to serve as some sort of anchor. He took his other hand and wiped my tears across my face, making more of a mess.
“I knew you’d cry for me.”
Rafe clenched his jaw in pleasure before throwing his head back and letting out a loud moan.
Planting himself deeply inside me, I gasped and clamped down on him and in seconds he filled me with his cum.
My body was exhausted as I lazily stared up at him, a small smile of satisfaction decorating my lips.
Wincing as he slowly pulled out of me, I could feel his seed slowly leak out of me and onto the bed.
Rafe caught the slick arousal with his finger and slowly dipped it back inside of me causing me to hiss due to the over-sensitivity.
I watched him through tired eyes, catching his hand into mine and brought it to my face.
His hand curled along my jaw as he wiped the remaining tears away with his thumb. Rafe stared at me with open infatuation as he traced my eyes, then my nose, and finally my lips with his fingers.
“You’ll never be over me.”
At his words, I felt a pang hit my chest that painfully curled around my heart.
His words were cruel, but true.
He wasn’t good for me. In fact, he was my own personal demon that caused all sort of pain in my life time and time again.
Rafe brought me to life. A spark inside me, that I didn’t know existed, ignited. I ached for his attentions and became quickly addicted. His charm and smile lured me into his web of lies and manipulation, and never let me out.
Instead, I threw myself deeper into his web and wrapped myself around his bed of lies. His darkness became my darkness and I accepted every ugly piece of him.
His presence was overwhelming that at times I found it hard to breathe and hard to think. He made me loose my sanity. My very existence had circled around one thing: Rafe.
I would never get over him because he was in my fucking bloodstream.
“I hate you.” My words were weak at best, softly spoken. I stared at him openly hurt, my face shattered as the reality of our situation sets in.
Rafe mirrors my expression, “No, you don’t.”
So I ask you again, what do you do when the monster from your nightmares is also the love of your life?
——————————
Side note: they are fucking F-R-E-A-K-S. He’s so hot I cant even. This is going to be part one of a two part series!!! Please let me know what you think:)
#obx smut#outerbanks imagine#obx#rafe cameron#outerbanks rafe#rafe angst#rafe x reader#rafe smut#rafe obx#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron angst#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#outer banks season 3#outer banks#outer banks fanfiction
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May I request a poly skz + reader, or just Minsung or Chanlix/Hyunlix if you want, totally up to you. Reader relatively new to the relationship and is trying their best to be the best partner to all parties, but doesn’t feel like it’s being returned. They feel like skz (or whichever ship you choose) is too into each other and not them, like the shiny new toy isn’t exciting anymore. One night, after everyone goes to sleep, reader gets their things and leaves without saying anything. You can change the plot a bit if you’d like. If you’re not comfortable with writing it, that’s ok!🩵
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
➩pairing: minsung x gn!reader
➩genre(s): angst, poly!skz
➩warnings: none
➩wc: 0.6k (655)
➩author’s note: sorry this took so long, i hope it was even a fraction of what you wanted!
➩part(s): next
You are exhausted. To put it plainly. You just don’t know how much more you can take. Of course you love the boys, you really do. However something has shifted, and not for the better.
First you started noticing small changes. When Jisung and Minho would come back late from practice, they would usually bring you a sweet treat followed by kisses and cuddles to make up for the lost time. Now it’s barely even a ‘Sorry we’re home late.”
You aren’t used to this, used to feeling like an afterthought in your own relationship. Then again, you weren’t quite sure how well it was going to go between the three of you. They were already so in tune with each other and then you came along.
They made you feel like the missing piece. The rarest jewel to add to their shiny golden crown. You didn’t think it was possible to be truly loved by two people, nor did you think you could love two people as much as you do them.
The tender care and appreciation that came from the both of them was nothing short of remarkable. The intimacy that was shared between the three of you was never overwhelming.
You love Minho. You love Jisung. They love you.
At least, they loved you.
When it was once you in the middle, being doted on each side by the boys you adored. You now reside on the outside as they cuddle each other, a pity hand resting upon your thigh.
When it was once you who ran you fingers through both of their hair as they melted into your touch. You now get told “You don’t have to do that tonight.” “You seem tired you should get some rest.” “It’s alright, I’ll do it for him.”
When it was once a trio. It now falls back into the familiar routine of when you weren’t even a blimp in their lives. Minho and Jisung against the world, oh and Y/n.
“Do you guys still love me?” You would ask timidly.
“Of course we do Y/n! Why would you think such a thing?”
You thought you had done something wrong. Why were they pushing you away? Even when you increased the amount of love you were giving them, you didn’t get anything back.
You were always at the tail end of the relationship. It only became clear to you now.
You still love them. Of course you do. How could you not?
But you are no fool. You are not one to be strung along like a little pet on a leash. You know when you aren’t wanted. When you, the jewel, were not quite glued in securely and fell out of the crown.
Perhaps it always looked better with only the two jewels. Perhaps you were there as a tester, to see what it would look like.
New and exciting, glamorous and beautiful. It was what they needed…until they didn’t.
As you lay at the edge of the bed, the two of them cuddling beside you, you quietly unwrap yourself from the sheets. You grab your already packed bag that was in the wardrobe.
They didn’t even notice your toothbrush was gone when they came home late and did their nightly routine.
Yes but they didn’t even give you a kiss goodnight.
You shouldn’t cry, but you can’t help the tears that cascade down your cheeks.
You know it is for the best. You need to put yourself first, your feelings first.
Which is why you place the key you had to the house on the kitchen island. You don’t look back as you walk out the door. Walk out of their lives.
Maybe that was what they wanted from you all along?
Maybe you just weren’t ready for something like this?
Or maybe you know your worth. You know you’re worth enough to be loved as much as you love.
ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.
© 2023 diddybok
taglist: @lyramundana
#stray kids fanfic#poly!stray kids#stray kids x gn reader#stray kids angst#skz scenarios#skz x gn reader#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz angst#skz minsung#stray kids minsung#skz fanfic#skz drabbles#stray kids drabbles#another day another slay
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Twitter Fingers.
Warning: lots of TENSION. Dirty talk. Shuri has no filter. Very timid, but nasty main character. Mention of pornography. Smut. Strap on sex. StrapxShuri.
Gently spell checked, there may be spelling or grammar errors.
——————-
She found herself clenching her legs and covering her mouth as the vibration of her favorite toy shocked her entire being. She moaned into her hand while looking over at her phone that was propped up. The lewd video lit up a small area in her dark room, the light reflecting back on her pleasure filled face.
But…the video wasn’t necessarily what she was thinking about. Of course, it’s right in her face, so she obviously could not hide her arousal towards it, but the thing that truly set her on fire was the caption.
She had been following a Twitter account that included all things lesbian. For the past few weeks she had been using her light pink rose to reach an orgasm; a direct result of her constantly viewing the Twitter page.
She could feel her orgasm creeping up on her as she moaned into a nearby pillow. As she went on, she couldn’t help thinking about whoever was behind this account fucking her. “I’m cumming…” she whimpered into her pillowed as she orgasmed.
While coming down, she laid there for about a minute before picking her phone up and scrolling to the top of the Twitter page. She felt embarrassed by the fact that she had came to Twitter porn, but she couldn’t stop her self from clicking the inbox button.
Before she could even think, she started to type up a message that conveyed her feelings.
“I’m new to Twitter, and I came across your page…and I just wanted to tell you that everything you’ve posted has effected me…I feel embarrassed that I’m even dm’ing you…”
She felt like she was going insane when she pressed the send button. She immediately regretted her decision and slammed the phone down on her bed. “I can’t believe I fucking did that…” She laid there in silence for some time before her phone buzzed.
Once she flipped it over, she was very surprised by the notification.
“Embarrassed..? Why is that?”
They fucking replied.
“They fucking replied…” She said as she stared at the notification on her phone. She gulped as the heat that was once at her core traveled to her face.
“I don’t mean any harm…but it’s just find it so morally wrong…it’s so sexual and graphic…”
She sent out that message, and it took a little bit longer for the reply to come in. “…was I being rude..?” She asked herself.
What she didn’t know is that the woman on the other end was laughing.
“I promise you, my page is just a small fraction of how sexual and graphic my mind is.”
“There’s more..?”
“So much more.”
“Can you show me..?”
She timid female stared at her screen for a couple of seconds, awaiting a response. She bit her bottom lip and sighed to herself. “Fuck…that was so stupid.”
“Call me.”
She gasped when she saw that message. She do don’t even know this person and she was already going to call them.
The line rung a couple of times before a simple “Hello?” was said.
“I didn’t expect you to sound like that.” The woman on the other side of the phone had a very relaxing voice.
“I didn’t know you were gonna sound the way you sound either. Where are you from..?” She asks.
“None of your concern. What’s your name?” The woman was firm.
“Athena.”
“…Athena…beautiful.” The woman said. Athena smiled behind her phone and chuckled lightly to herself.
“What’s your name?” Athena asks.
“…” The woman fell silent at this question. “Just call me Ri.”
Ri. As in short for Shuri. The queen of Wakanda couldn’t reveal her identity to a complete stranger online…just yet.
“…This may be a weird thing to ask…but can I see your face..?” Athena asked. She was prepared to be in the face of immediate rejection upon her request, but instead she was met with “Do you have Skype?”
“Yes! My username is Athenarooz”
After about 30 seconds, Athena was met with a call request.
She quickly sat up and looked in the mirror next to her bed before setting her phone up against a pillow. Her full face was in frame, with a tiny bit of her dark headboard showing.
Once she answered, she was met with the woman behind the account. Shuri didn’t show her whole entire face. The only part of her body that was in frame was the lower half. Athena couldn’t see her eyes or her nose. She didn’t mind though.
“Hi…” Athena gently said. Her heart shaped hair was slightly messy, and she had on simple pajamas.
Shuri thought she was adorable. She had cat like eyes, full cheeks, and a gold dainty necklace on.
Shuri smiled upon hearing her voice. Athena could see a flash of gold shine across Shuri’s bottom teeth once she smiled. “Hi.” Shuri simply said.
“So…um, I like your grills. They look really good.” Athena smiles warmly as she gazed at the other woman.
“Why thank you. I greatly appreciate it.” Shuri smirked at the compliment. “I like your pink lights…you look very pretty under them.” Athena felt her heart skip a beat before giggling to herself.
“Oh…thank you!” Athena said.
“Are they always that color, sithandwa?”
Athena could feel her pussy start to pulsate from the foreign term. “Well— no! They actually change colors.” Athena said while looking down at her sleeves.
“When do you change them?” Shuri asked.
Shuri didn’t want to make the girl feel rushed, but she knew there was a reason why she DM’d her.
“…you know…during certain times.” Athena felt so small under Shuri’s gaze, en thought she couldn’t even see her eyes.
“Like when you’re scrolling down my page…?” Shuri asked before leaning back in her seat. “Well…yes. Your page just…it makes me feel—“
“Aroused.” Shuri finished that sentence for her.
“What part makes you feel that way?” Shuri asked. At this point, Shuri was very intrigued with this girl’s sexual behavior.
“To be honest…it’s not the videos. O-of course, the girls help a lot!! But…it’s just the way you write your captions…they’re so sensual…” Athena says. She can’t help but to breathe a bit heavier while glancing at Shuri.
Shuri had never met a person who liked captions on Twitter porn more than the actual video.
“Athena?” Shuri calls out her name.
“Y-yes?” Athena’s eyes light up slightly at the mention of her name.
“What makes you climax?”
Athena felt like a waterfall had ripped through her core once she heard that question. She didn’t know how to answer that.
“…I honestly don’t know how to explain it…c-can I show you..?”
“Go ahead…” Shuri said. She watched Athena closely, waiting for any sign of sexual action.
“Um, okay! Give me one second.” Athena grabbed her ipad from her nightstand and quickly went to Shuri’s account. She scrolled for a bit before she recognized a video that repeatedly got her off.
“There’s this one video that I’ve watched a couple of times…” Athena showed the video to Shuri, turning her iPad to face her camera, letting Shuri watch.
“Hmm, it’s from my page.” Shuri said with a slight smirk.
“Yeah…how did you find this video..?” Athena asked.
“Quite honestly, I truly just browse. I get aroused quite often and when I do, I find more videos to put on my Twitter.” Shuri said.
“Have you ever done any of the things in the videos..?” Athena asked. She could feel her heart beating out of her chest at the thought of the other woman doing those things to her.
“…” Shuri was silent, once again. “Yes…why do you ask?”
Athena knew that what she was about to ask could go completely right, or terribly wrong.
“Do you see yourself doing those things to me..?”
Shuri paused at this. She could 100 percent see herself giving Athena immense pleasure, but she had to be careful because of who she is.
“Absolutely…but, I’m not in a position to do so.” Shuri replied.
“Why is that?” Athena asked.
“I’m not just a regular person…”
This statement struck fear into Athena.
“…w-who are you..?” Athena asked.
“If I tell you…it will change the trajectory of your entire life.” Shuri said. Her voice was laced with caution, not wanting Athena to make such a big decision.
“I don’t mind.” Athena said.
Shuri had to contemplate for a moment. She knew this will affect the both of them…but she was so fucking horny. She couldn’t make any rational decisions at the moment.
Shuri takes her computer screen and angles it upward, showing her full face to Athena. Upon seeing her, Athena tilted her head.
“…” Athena simply just gazed at her. The initial shock was there, but after a couple of seconds she just…shrugged.
“Shuri…queen of Wakanda…but, I don’t see how this matters…” Athena says with a slight giggle.
Shuri’s eyes widened at Athena’s claim. “You don’t think it matters??” Shuri questioned, feeling baffled by the other woman.
“We’re both horny…and honestly…I don’t really care about who you are.” Athena says before biting the inside of her lip.
Shuri’s body seemed to relax once that was said. “Bast…I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you…” she chuckles.
As time went on, Athena’s desire coursed through her body.
“Shuri…do you wanna fuck me?” Athena asked with a tiny smirk.
Shuri smirked and shook her head, chuckling to herself in disbelief. “I’ll be at your place in 15 minutes.” She said beofre the call ended.
Athena stared at the screen for a couple of seconds before running to the shower. She quickly freshened up before getting dressed.
Her pink baby tee complimented her pink spandex shorts. Her hair was in a claw clip, that also being pink. She had on some white fluffy slides, with her toes being painted a light pink color. She looked at herself in the mirror, contemplating whether or not she was underdressed.
“Hmm…” she looked at the clock next to her mirror and smiled lightly. “It’s 2am…who cares.” She reassured herself.
She grabbed her phone and went downstairs. Athena lived in-front of a large field, where she would go for jogs, or simply just journal at. She looked outside and saw a small aircraft parked in the field.
She couldn’t hear it land, so she suspected that it had to be Shuri.
The doorbell rang, and Athena could feel her heart go insane. She took a deep breath before walking over to the door and opening it, being met with Shuri looking at her through some Prada sunglasses.
“Hi.” Athena said. She quickly scanned Shuri’s figure, and saw that she was dressed casually as well. She had on some black sweatpants, and a black t-shirt.
“Hi.” Shuri said, smirking lightly at the girl. She’s adorable… Shuri thought to herself. She put her hand out, offering it to Athena.
Athena softly took her hand, and walked with her back to the aircraft. “I hope you don’t think I’m creepy or anything…I promise you I’m not going to hurt you.” Shuri said once they stepped inside. Athena smiled timidly and nodded, looking up at the other woman.
“No…oddly enough I didn’t think that…” Athena said with a slight chuckle.
Shuri stared softly at the other woman, taking off her sunglasses. She slowly walked to Athena, running her thumb across Athena’s bottom lip.
“You’re so pretty…intombi entle.” Shuri said. Athena could feel a her nipples immediately harden from the foreign language, and Shuri could see them.
She glanced down at Athena’s chest, seeing them press up against her cute pink shirt. “Are you excited?” Shuri asks, slipping her thumb in Athena’s mouth. Athena looked up at Shuri and nodded, her eyes being filled with desire.
“I can tell…” Shuri trailed off as she lifted up the other woman’s shirt, letting her full breast become exposed. Shuri let go of Athena, taking a seat in the aircraft. “Let me see you…” She leaned back in her chair, before sliding her own shirt off, having nothing but her gold panther necklace on. “Show me…” Shuri demanded softly.
Athena stood infront of Shuri and took her shirt off, and then her shorts. “You don’t have anything on under that…” Shuri said to her. She smirked at Athena before calling her over with just a hand gesture. Shuri spread her legs and let Athena straddle her.
Athena’s nude body was pressed up against Shuri, as she could feel her underwear become soaked. Shuri could feel Athena’s desire, all thanks to her heightened senses.
“I just want you to know…this is just sex.” Shuri said while gazing into Athena’s eyes.
Athena giggled while leaning into Shuri. She could feel the other woman’s hands travel to her backside, squeezing it firmly. “You did have to say that…you could’ve just fucked me.” Athens says.
What Shuri and Athena didn’t know is that their relationship was not going to just be sex.
Shuri immediately captured Athena’s lips in a passionate kiss. The kiss was hot, passionate, and sloppy. The two woman were incredibly aroused, and they didn’t hold anything back.
“Fuck…” Shuri pulled away from the kiss and hissed as she continued to grope and smack the other woman’s ass. “I didn’t know you had all this…” Shuri chuckled before kissing along Athena’s jawline. “Oh please…it’s nothing.” Athena dismisses her remark, biting her lip from Shuri’s touch.
Shuri’s kisses halted. She looked up at Athena, her gold grill showing from the low exposure lighting in the aircraft. She raised her eyebrow, smirking lightly.
“It’s nothing???”
————————————
“Holy shit!!” Athena moaned out. By this time, Shuri had bent Athena over. Her fingers were digging into Athena’s hips as she snapped her hips into a thrust. The black and silver strap glistened in the light as she continued to fuck Athena.
“Let me tell you…It’s not nothing. Your ass looks so good from back here..” Shuri said before throwing her head back, hissing and moaning at the feeling of Athena squeezing her. “I can feel you usana. I can feel you squeezing the shit out of me. You like this?” Shuri moaned out. Athena couldn’t answer. She was too busy shoving her face into the bed that was located at the back of the air craft. “S-so good…” Athena whimpered out.
Shuri couldn’t believe the words that were coming out her mouth. All of her lewd thoughts that she would hide just came spilling out. It was almost like Athena’s body drew them out of her. She was hooked.
“Shit Athena!” Shuri said before pulling her strap out quickly and grabbing her phone. “I want to record you…I wanna watch this back over and over again…will you let me..?” Shuri asked while kissing down her back.
Athena looked back at Shuri with a euphoric expression. “Do it…” Athena answered. Before she could turn back around, Shuri had started to record, the flash from the phone highlighting the pleasurable experience.
Shuri inserted her fingers, pumping them slowly, while her thumb rubbed the other woman’s clit. “S-Shuri—“ Athena moaned while her legs began to shake.
“You close..?” Shuri asked while looking directly at Athena. “Y-yes…” Athena whimpered while making eye contact with her. “What are you gonna do..? Hmm?” Shuri asks, her pace speeding up. “I-I’m gonna cum..” Athena whispered. “Let me see it…” Shuri said with a slight smirk. Athena came undone on Shuri’s fingers. She couldn’t even let out a moan, the feeling was so euphoric.
“O-oh my fucking god!!” Athena whimpered out. “That was beautiful Athena…” Shuri said before putting her phone away, feeling incredibly aroused still. Shuri gently laid Athena down on the bed, grabbing her chin, and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’m gonna make you cum again…okay??” Shuri said while her lips brushed against Athena’s.
Athena could soon feel Shuri’s length stroke into her. Tears of pleasure fell from her eyes as she let out soft moans, Shuri’s name falling from her lips. She looked up at her and marveled at her appearance.
Shuri’s gold chain glistened up against her skin, her bare upper body being on full display as her thrust became quicker.
On the other hand, Shuri couldn’t take her eyes off Athena. Even when her body wanted to close them, she couldn’t. She was entranced by the look of pleasure that was displayed on the other woman’s face. Her thrusts quickened as she could feel Athena squeeze her once more. “Come on baby…I know you want too…” Shuri moaned out, encouraging Athena.
“F-fuck! You’re gonna make me cum again…” Athena moaned out while her eyes rolled back slightly. “Give it to me…” Shuri said. Her thick Wakndan accent had Athena cumming in seconds.
“Shit, you look so pretty…I’m gonna cum from just looking at you—“ Shuri said before moaning loudly. She orgasm washed over her like a thunder storm and had her Whimpering.
Both woman were left breathing heavily before Shuri pulled out and laid beside Athena.
There was about two minutes of just silence.
Athena and Shuri were just gazing at each other. The both of them felt a buzz, leaving them feeling euphoric.
“That was…amazing..” Shuri said, hooking her arm around Athena’s back, pulling her closer. By this time, Shuri had discarded her strap, leaving their two completely hide bodies cuddled into one another. “…it really was…” Athena said before falling into a deep slumber.
—————————
When Athena woke up, she was back in her own bed. She looked around, feeling slightly disappointed when she couldn’t find Shuri. She understood that it was just sex, but deep down, she was wishing for more.
She laid back in her bed, sighing to herself. “I guess she was being serious…this really was just sex.” Athena says to herself. Her thoughts were interrupted by a Skype call notification from…Shuri. Her eyes widened in slight shock as she checked her appearance and answered quickly.
“Hello, sthandwa…” Shuri said. Her tone was warm and she had a look of adoration on her face.
“Hi Shuri…” Athena said, rubbing her arm shyly.
Both of the woman found it insane how sexual they are some hours ago, and how they are so much different in each others presence now.
But my gosh, this is only the beginning.
—————
Lol.
#letitia wright#black panther#letitia x reader#shuri fic#shuri x reader#black women#letitia wright smut#shuri smut#toxic shuri#letitia wright scotty#Spotify
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𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑
౨ৎ . . . in which JEAN KIRSCHTEIN finally gets that idyllic little home in the interior, reminisces on the echoes of war, and can't seem to keep his hands off of his pregnant newly-wed wife.
warnings: swearing, sexual content, pregnancy, depictions of violence, memories of war/ptsd, mdni, w.c 2.4k
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐓, clinking against the crystal glass that reflected the light.
It jostled Jean from his dark musings — calling him back from the battlefield within his mind.
He glanced over at it, blinking. Reaching towards the little glass, he picked it up and swirled the contents around. It was a fine whiskey — brewed and stored in Ashwood barrels to give it that intoxicating flavour. During his soldier days, Jean had only been able to dream about touching such expensive whiskey to his lips. And yet here he was, on a bright afternoon deep into autumn, drinking a glass like he had an endless supply of it on his home terrace in the Capital.
It was everything he could have ever wanted.
And yet, it did nothing to quell the screams and cries, the memories of bloodshed roaring up to wash over him.
To drown him.
From the moment he had woken up next to his snoozing wife that morning, Jean just knew today was going to be tough. There were many of them ever since the war ended — days where he could not get out of bed, where he couldn't even will himself to step into the shower without feeling like he was choking. The scars left from the war were deep and corrosive, and perhaps, they would never heal. But he owed it to each and every one of his fallen comrades to continue on. To build something beautiful out of the ashes left in their wake.
Jean winced suddenly — his fight or flight kicking in. In his ears, there was not the gentle din of shoppers from the Mitras street below or the chirping of bluebirds. There was carnage. There was the sounds of screaming orders, of ripping bodies and explosives. In one fraction of a second, he was back on that airship — he was getting ready to dive with his comrades onto the back of the Founding Titan with a slim chance that he would make it out alive—
"Morning, darling," An angel spoke to him, slicing through the clouds, and he felt something warm and comforting sliding down his taut chest. "You're quiet. Is everything alright?"
Slowly, so agonisingly slowly, the images of their last battle dissipated like departing smoke. In its remnants; the sounds of the markets below, the sweet-smelling breeze touched by autumn leaves, feminine arms reaching over his shoulders and playing with his frock.
Feminine — the scent of lilies and warmth. His wife. His beautiful, beautiful wife.
Jean inhaled, his chest expanding almost painfully, and fashioned his face into something composed. He craned his head back to meet your eyes. They were haloed in the tumbles of [h/c] hair that cascaded down to hide him from the outside world.
He flashed you a signature, cheeky grin. "All good. What are ya doin' up this early though?" He fired back at you, his eyebrows pinching with tender concern. "You should be resting."
It was true — and every time he saw the evidence of the life swelling in your belly, Jean felt the need to slap himself. Really, really hard, just to be sure. There was a bright glow that touched the tips of your cheeks, your breasts has swollen and become heavier, readying for the child who would be born within the next few months. A father, he was going to be a father. What were the fucking odds that they had made it this far, you and him, that you were bringing life into this new world. Something he originally believed would have been impossible.
You narrowed your eyes at your husband. There was a familiar look on his face, one which caused you to reach up and brush the curve of his brow.
"You have nightmares in your eyes, my love." You whispered.
He didn't contest, didn't say anything. But he didn't need to. Instead, he closed those honey-coloured eyes and sighed. Jean nudged into your touch — a silent ask — and you continued to rub soothing arcs against his skin. Smoothening out the wrinkles of his bunched expression.
"Shh, it's okay," You murmured in a calming tone. "You are safe. You are here, Jean. We made it. Nothing is going to hurt us, anymore."
Your husband took in deep breaths. First, quick and shallow, which then levelled out into a pace more even. From stroking his face, you let your deft fingertips dance along his skin and sink into his unruly hair, still unbrushed and tousled by sleep. It was past his ears now, you noticed, curling against the nape of his neck in soft sweeps.
"Your hair has gotten long again." You remarked, playing with their ends.
"Hmm," Jean responded. "Suppose so. Kinda like it." He then opened his eyes to look at you once more, and when he did, you were delighted to find they were their bright whiskey-gold, just like the bottle on your terrace table. You smiled softly down at him.
"You have come back to me."
Jean stared at you with those unyielding, clever eyes. He then reached up to catch your caressing hand and turned his face to place a kiss in the palm.
"Always." He whispered.
You would have spent that tender moment just basking in the sunlight with him there, thankful that you both had this time together. Your husband, however, seemed to have other plans. First, it was a wicked little glint that flashed across his eyes — and in the next moment, he was up, using the hand he had clasped to spin you around and hoist you up into his arms.
"J-Jean—!" You choked down a laugh. He scooped you up effortlessly into a bridal-style hold, walking through the terrace doors and into your shared little kitchen.
"Well, my wife is just lookin' extra beautiful this morning!" He chirped, and spun you around and around. Your giggles became a loud, playful scorn, calling him a silly man and demanding that he set you down before he made you and the baby dizzy.
"Our baby will come with a perpetual issue of poor balance!" You cried when he finally stopped, holding you close to him.
"If he's anything like his old man," Jean said. "He will have no problems. In fact, he'll be a damn master at all things balance. You know what they called me in the cadets, right?"
"Yes, yes. Mr. Genius at ODM Gear." Your faces were close, and you nuzzled into the strong column of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. "I just hope he will not be as big-headed."
"Hah? What did you say?"
Jean was peppering kisses starting from the very crown of your head, following a path of heat down your forehead, your cheeks, then finishing at your neck and giving you a playful nip.
You yelped, swatting at him. It only spurned him on, his broad shoulders that you held onto for support rumbling with his deep laughter. His butterfly kisses against your neck became a frenzy, tickling all of your sensitive spots, murmuring in his low voice who are ya makin' fun of? Hm? He both made you giggle and sparked a familiar heady feeling low in the pit of your stomach.
Your chuckles deepened in time with your quickening breath. It became thready and shallow, increasing in time as your heartrate picked up. Still in his captive bridal hold, you slid your hands from his shoulders to around his neck, tugging at his hair in that way you knew drove him wild.
His kisses tripped over your skin when you did so, his breath caught. Pleasured need rippled throughout your body. The kisses he placed on your neck became messier, changing from swift and teasing to hot, open-mouthed. You craned your head back to give him better access and he wasted absolutely no time — dragging the flat of his tongue from your collarbone to your ear, humming when you arched up in his hold.
Jean hoisted you up a little so he could move swiftly through the apartment. His long legs ate up the distance, gliding through the little one-storey terrace you had both made your home in the interior. You leaned up to him while he moved, kissing him sweetly, tenderly. Speaking in words you said so many times and would continue to say again; I love you. Now and forever.
Your second kiss, however, was meaner — you clamped your teeth on his bottom lip and he growled.
When he reached the bedroom you both shared, you felt Jean kick the door shut behind him, before walking you over to the unmade bed and placing you down. So gently, so caringly. The fragility of how he held you was almost enough to shatter your heart. The mattress dipped when he kneeled over you, encouraging you to lie down flat.
"You're gonna pay for doing that." He murmured in a rough voice.
Innocently, you bat your eyelashes. "For what, my dear husband?"
He leaned down so that your foreheads connected and closed his eyes, sighing hard through his nose. "For being so fuckin' irresistible."
Every inch of you was set alight as he leaned over you, caging you down to the bed with his larger body. You tried to surge up — to feel his mouth on yours and never stop, but he rose, kneeling so he could look down at you.
He was still in that light cotton sleeping shirt he wore to bed — hanging loosely around his neck, throwing his tanned skin into sublime focus. His golden eyes shadowed into a deep whiskey followed from your face, to your aching breasts, to your belly. The little swell there made his expression soften. He placed a hand onto your warm stomach and held it still, feeling the child you will soon share and raise together, his newly polished wedding band catching the morning light.
You felt like you were going to burst with the sheer force of love you felt for this man, Jean Kirschtein, your husband, for now and always. The longer you stared at him, the stronger the low pulse between your legs became.
"Jean." You whispered, and he looked up from under his fair lashes, understanding the plea in your voice.
Jean took his time undressing you, like the wicked little thing he was, delighting at how you wriggled under his touch like a trapped and desperate butterfly. When he had stripped both of you bare, you marvelled at the strong planes of his chest and tight, defined abdominal muscles. You traced each and every little scar he wore proudly, feeling those muscles twitch underneath your touch.
He was perfect. He was yours.
"Come here." You crooned, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him over you.
"Yes ma'am."
Your arms did not fit across the large expanse of his back muscles — you sunk your nails into the curves of his shoulder bones, feeling as they shifted when he crawled on top of you. His head dipped down to catch one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth and he sucked — nibbling softly. Your head knocked back. When he lifted his hand and closed the entirety of his palm over your unattended breast, the moan you let out was long and broken.
"They've gotten big, hm?" He whispered against your chest, chasing his words with loving kisses. "So pretty."
Impatient, lust racing through your bloodstream, you grabbed his wandering hand and guided it to where you ached between your thighs. So slick and swollen, Jean's eyebrows raised, his expression becoming incredibly smug.
"Oi, you've gotten impatient, have you?"
"Oh—yes, yes." You groaned when his fingers curled against you. He knew all the right spots to push, to rub, to make you sing for him.
"Come on, sweetheart, tell me what ya need."
"I need—oh, I need you!"
"Like this?" He cooed, pushing two fingers into you with such tender slowness. It felt exquisite, it felt so filling when you were hot and aching — but not enough.
To urge him, you hooked your leg around the strong curve of his lower back and pulled him into you. He made a sound of surprise, releasing his fingers from you to catch his weight by bracing his hands on either side of your head.
His wide eyes collided with your fierce ones. The intensity you were looking at him with made this ex-soldier's cock give a painful twitch.
"I need you. Inside me. Now."
Pleasure exploded down Jean Kirschtein's spine in a thousand lightning bolts. He hung his head forward, groaning, before reaching down to push your thighs gently apart to allow for his body to slot neatly with yours.
"Well, what typ'a husband would I be if I denied you?"
His cock slid inside you in a way that always felt so mind-numbingly perfect, like he was made to be there, to be yours. Jean let out a ferocious sound and buried into your swollen breasts. You moaned, deep, relieved, bucking your hips up to grind into him.
Jean resurfaced to connect your shining foreheads, once more. He reached down to cup your hips and drew out — pushing back inside with such concentration. He was being careful with you, he was handling you like you were the most precious thing in the entire world. You had become attuned to the monstrous power Jean Kirschtein housed in his toned body, honed from years of battling for his life. You had felt it. Even now, you could feel that hum under his skin — the strength he had used to fuck you against tables and walls, the marble tiling in the shower, the balcony in the deep hours of the night.
But now — he was a gentle, caring lover. He pulsed into you in at a steady pace. Both of you gasped each other's air. You clawed at him. His mouth dropped open to pant as he thrusted into you again, again, again.
When his movements started to become messier, less co-ordinated, did he reach down between the both of you and thrum his fingers against where you were most sensitive. You barked out a cry. The bed began to rock and whine with the force of your love-making.
"Come with me, [Name]." He growled against your shoulder. "Come on, sweetheart, come with me, come with me."
In a delirious haze of ecstasy, you nodded your head, again and again until the apex of your pleasure crested and swelled. Your nails dug into his skin. Jean's breaths quickened until they became choked, gasping moans, and his release smashed into him. You fell, too, crashing through the wall of ecstasy with him until all you knew were his body and his scent and the clasping of his be-ringed hand in yours.
It was all he had ever wanted.
#attack on titan#attack on titan fanfiction#aot fanfiction#aot x reader#jean kirstein#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirsten x reader#jean x reader#did i spend today writing smut for a 2D man?#yes#yes i did#dividers by the magnificent firefly graphics!#🪄— milky writes#‼️ — spoilers#💓 — thump
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Pain (Into Submission, Part 2)
Series masterlist
Note: This part is a continuation of Part 1, Vulnerable. If you haven't read it, may I suggest you start there? Big thank you to @acidcasualties for reading, suggesting, encouraging and just generally being spectacular.
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: 18+; minors DNI. Implied smut, much angst. Awkward conversation and tortured metaphors. Loki's a bit upset.
Loki was avoiding you.
Since that night in the basement chamber, when you had held him as he caught his breath, and the light in the chamber turned from warm torchlight to the stone grey of dawn, he’d carefully managed to deflect your gaze – your presence, even, on multiple occasions. You sighed inwardly as you glimpsed the edge of his booted foot disappearing around the corner ahead of you. Again.
The memory of him vulnerable and naked on the cold floor remained rich and vivid in your mind. Images of him splayed before you – remembered and imagined – had been a source of much solo entertainment under your sheets in recent nights. Was there anything more deliciously seductive? Beautiful, powerful, dangerous… kneeling.
The two of you had had few interactions since. Briefings, meetings, public interludes that blurred and obscured your newly exposed power dynamic. It was difficult to read him. Superficially, he was as haughty as always; obnoxious and glib, his expression disdainful, his proud chin lifted arrogantly as he argued with the others over petty, trivial matters.
But there were tells. His eyes following you across a crowded room. His tongue nervously wetting an already moistened lower lip as you spoke. And once, that contemptuous laugh breaking off a fraction too early when your gaze fell upon him, his expression quickly and inexplicably contrite.
You frowned slightly at that memory, pressing your lips together as you felt a rush of frustration and lust. He had been avoiding you. It was mildly irritating, though not surprising; you had not expected his submission to be complete after a single orgasm in your hands. Fear, shame, ego - whatever their personal reasons, capitulation was rarely so easy, even in the weak ones. And if you could be certain of one thing, it was that this beautiful God was going to fight it.
It would make his eventual – inevitable – acceptance all the more delightful.
This morning was another irksome example. The team were congregating in one of the smaller conference rooms with general agitation, to “await further instruction” from Rogers. The tight space forced Loki to squeeze by you – to your utter delight, and his patent discomfort.
Less than a week ago, you thought wryly, you would have relished the chance to brush by my thigh. Gone out of his way for the opportunity, even. Pathetic little God. The idea was oddly emotive.
"Good morning, prince", you murmured as he passed, emphasising the lowercase "p" on the last word, weighting it with a subtle mockery that only you and he would notice. His eyes widened at your little neg, and you imagined him swelling in his too-tight trousers as you reminded him of his place. Did he want to fall at your feet then and there in the briefing room? Kiss your boot as you roughly twisted his perfect raven curls in your fingers? The God of Mischief might not quite be ready for such a public display of devotion.
Rogers droned on, and your concentration drifted.
Loki leaned in carefully orchestrated nonchalance against the window, his face set in his trademark smirk. From this vantage, you had an uninterrupted view of his full profile. He did cut a menacing figure, contrived though you were certain it was; long, lean legs rising up to meet slender hips and narrow waist, all sluttishly wrapped in black and green leather that dully reflected the morning sunlight. His broad shoulders rolled back regally, and you could clearly see the outline of his shoulder blades flexing gently with each breath.
Fuck. Pay attention.
You had been watching him more closely since that night in the chamber; knowledge was power, after all, and you had to find it where you could. He was so tactile - the way he traced invisible patterns on the backs of his hands when he was nervous; caught the condensation from the side of his glass and absentmindedly rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger as Steve repeated himself “for those in the back”. You followed his fingertips now as he distractedly drummed them across his leather-clad thigh, imagining them pressing into your flesh as he came undone beneath you. Gods, you needed to stop torturing yourself.
His hair was swept back into a low, tousled bun at the nape of his neck, exposing the soft skin there. Was there still the hint of a bruise where you had nipped his skin? Could he still feel where you had kissed him wetly across his magnificent jaw? As you watched his face, the corner of his mouth twitched up into the briefest smirk, and you felt another jolt of unexpected emotion. I miss him, you realised sadly.
The room broke abruptly, and you were suddenly aware that you hadn’t been listening for several minutes. You shot a quick look at Nat – had you missed anything crucial? Training, 3pm, she mouthed knowingly, and you nodded once in acknowledgement and appreciation. You probably deserved the eye-roll she gave you.
As the room emptied, you glanced at Stark’s fancy translucent wall clock and made a decision. 3pm gave you time to have a little chat with a certain Norse God.
It took several minutes for him to answer your knock, and you wondered briefly if he had been tempted to ignore you.
When he did throw his door open, he wore his usual air of regal arrogance; chin still lifted, shoulders thrown back. But you could feel his awkwardness – his movements seemed mechanical, his breathing a little rapid, his elbows held too close to his body to be entirely natural. He’s nervous, you thought with a thrill.
“Yes, Agent?” His polite words dripped with acid.
“Loki.” His face remained impassive, but he moved back just enough to let you step lightly into the room; his wordless acquiescence made your pulse quicken.
His chambers were richly and elegantly furnished, but dark and secretive. In the quick glimpse you had, you saw him reflected in every detail; from the furs lining the floor like area rugs (was that a polar bear?), to the Nordic relics and symbols adorning every wall. It was unexpectedly sensual.
Loki haughtily cleared his throat, and you resisted the impulse to slap him squarely across the jaw. His perfect, condescending jaw, you thought longingly.
Instead, you opted for candour with a side of hubris. “Why are you avoiding me, Loki?”
He scoffed imperiously. “I am not.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve made leaving a room as I enter it into an elite sport,” you insisted. “Why? Are you ashamed?”
“Of course not,” he snapped, angry, his carefully curated indifference now askew. “I have simply moved on to… other matters of interest.”
“You’re ghosting me?” You raised your eyebrows mildly, a smile curling your mouth. “That seems unlikely. I thought we had a nice time.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched, his legendary silver tongue momentarily caught by his growing and uncharacteristic rage. “That’s not – it is not a matter of -” Loki blustered meaninglessly, and you watched insult and fear battle to own the bitterness that swept across his face. With some effort, he collected himself, settling on a mask of seething outrage. “What do you want?”
“I have a proposition. A repeat of our previous tryst, and – hopefully – much more than that.”
He raised his voice – something you rarely heard him do. “I have neither time nor inclination-”
“Loki,” you admonished gently, “we both know that isn’t true. You can pretend it didn’t happen. You can deny how much you enjoyed coming undone in my hands, blindfolded and exposed.” You took a chance at stepping closer to him, reaching out to gently trace your hand up his outer thigh. “But I know what you felt.”
He didn’t move away, but his lips parted in a snarl that bared his perfectly white teeth. “You know nothing, Agent.” He had regained control of his volume, and his words were now menacingly low. “I am a Prince of Asgard,” he hissed. “I am a literal God. Why would I have any interest in what you are suggesting? This proposal,” his lips popped at the word, “is ludicrous and insulting.” He glared down at you, your hand paused at his beautifully curved hip, his chest so close to your face that you could feel it rise and fall. Desire thrummed between your thighs at his proximity.
“Is it?” You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze and reaching for the ascendancy and authority you knew you had, filling yourself with the memory of him vulnerable and naked and sobbing at your feet. “Surely what I can offer you is infinitely preferable to the deftly crafted pain you’re currently stewing in.”
He remained silent, but you imagined you saw the briefest glimmer of surprise dance across his face. What was it that you had said?
Pain.
Cogs whirred in your head. Loki had had plenty of experience with pain. Did he need it? Did he seek it? My sweet little masochist, you thought with a smile.
“You know, humans – and human-like Gods, I suppose – are the only animals that actively seek out pain?” you ventured tentatively. “You can’t train a mouse, for example, to enjoy spicy foods, or to find pleasure in intense exercise.” You continued to trail your hand up the side of his torso, fingers drifting over his sculpted obliques like a beautiful instrument. “Is that what you want, Loki? Does pain make you feel… alive?”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “What could you possibly know of pain, Agent?” he hissed. “I have felt pain that you could not imagine; pain that would hurt you just to think about.”
You hesitated, unsure if you were going too far. "Are you sure you're not conflating pain with fear?” He raised his chin defiantly, but you continued quickly. “There’s a correlation between the anticipation of pain, and the intensity with which it is felt. That is, fear of pain is often a far more noxious experience than the stimuli of pain itself.”
He sneered down at you over his long, straight nose. “What exactly are you trying to say, Agent?”
“Only that physical pain doesn't have to come from physical violence.” You paused, willing him to catch up. “You might find pain without fear to be… enjoyable. Exquisite, even.”
“I…” Whatever he was going to say trailed off into the air behind you. You saw the muscle in his jaw quiver as he swallowed nervously.
“I know your feelings about it confuse you." You lowered your voice until it was almost a whisper. "Why would anyone – let alone the great Loki, God of Mischief, future King – why would you want to feel pain? But you do, don’t you? You need it, and you are consumed by shame because of it.” You reached up to stroke his cheek, but this time he turned his head away, eyes closed.
I’m missing something, you thought. There was a wound here… Maybe even one that you could heal. If I could just find it…
And it came to you in a rush that left you giddy. The thing he needed - the onlything Loki had ever needed.
“I am offering you a chance at authenticity, Loki; something that I hazard you’ve not had much opportunity for in your long, if somewhat apocryphal, life. I am offering you a place to belong.”
At your last word, Loki took an unsteady step backwards. His rage evaporated as quickly as it had surfaced; only desperation and sadness remained writ across his face, and you realised with some trepidation that it had been several minutes since he had spoken. You wanted to wrap him in your arms, caress him, hold him until all his fear and shame had been shed like blood.
Not yet.
When he did eventually speak, his voice was composed. “I think you should leave, Agent,” he said coolly, drawing himself up again to his full height, masking his softness once more in leather and steel.
You paused for a fraction of a second, then nodded, letting your hands fall and stepping back from him. Did I reach him? His door snapped closed behind you with a resounding click. I guess we’ll see.
Continued in Part 3: Lost
Tagging some folks who enjoyed part 1. No hard feelings if you'd rather be removed!
@lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @infinitystoner @lady-rose-moon @coldnique @thomase1 @kats72 @vickie5446 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @tomlugirl @lokisninerealms @missmushroomsstuff @ladyloki3 @fandxmslxt69 @sinsandguilt @sarahscribbles @lunarnights95 @meowmeow-motherfucker @simplyholl @divine-knight-hand
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pairing: levi x fem!reader (could be gn! but it does say girlfriend once)
summary: day off with levi, enjoying the weather by the river.
warnings: none. slightly suggestive banter at the end.
tag: @postwarlevi harvest moon event
You wake up to the crisp autumn air lightly blowing against your face through the open window to your room. The distinct aroma of fallen leaves and damp earthy soil scent fills your nostrils as you get up to get ready for the day.
Excitement begins to fill you and you quickly dress in warm layers before making your way to Levi's quarters. You find him already dressed, sipping on his black tea with a scowl on his face.
"Levi!” Your voice is filled with excitement as you greet him, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “I can’t wait for our day off." You rest your head on his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek for a soft peck.
He rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath. "If I had a choice, we wouldn't be going anywhere." He sets his tea down and stands up to face you.
"C'mon, Levi. It’s beautiful out, don’t you think it’d be nice to have just a day of me and you?” you say wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him your best pout, the one that he gets oh so annoyed with but also couldn’t possibly say no to.
He sighs dramatically in response, letting you hang off his body. "Yeah, I guess. Where are we going?"
"To the river!” You grab his hand, leading him out of the barracks and into the fresh fall air. As you walk, the vibrant colors of the autumn leaves surround you, painting a perfect scene. You loved fall, it was your favorite season. So beautiful with its hues of red, yellow, and orange and the crisp air surrounding you. Walking through town and into the forest you’re amazed at the magical wonderland and cozy ambiance that surrounds you.
“Isn’t it pretty Levi?” you ask excitedly gesturing to the view surrounding you as you walk through the forest.
He glances around begrudgingly. "I suppose. It's not the worst thing I've seen." He mumbles, still maintaining his signature expression. He seems to be taking in the scenery around him and a subtle softening of his features hints that perhaps he too appreciates the beauty and solitude.
As you arrive at the river, you find a comfortable spot near the water's edge and sit down together. The sound of water gently flowing and the rustle of leaves underfoot creates a soothing backdrop.
Levi puts an arm around you and pulls you close and you rest your head on his shoulder. It was a silent gesture to show you how much he enjoyed your presence, even if it was hard for him to say.
“See, Levi? It's not so bad, is it?" you ask after you’ve taken in the scene before you, nudging him playfully.
He huffs, "I suppose it's tolerable... with you." He admits as he tightens his grip around you. He looks out towards the river, but than his gaze falls to you. He takes in your appearance for a moment… the sunlight glimmering off your eyes, to the way your hair catches wind and flutters about in the breeze. A slight smile plays on his lips for a fraction of a second as he takes in your beauty, but he’d never say it out loud so he just looks ahead. He watches the river flow calmly, taking in the gentle rhythm of the water as it flows past. The gentle ripples dance across the surface, reflecting the soft rays of the sun.
“I’m glad we came here,” you whisper after a long silence, snapping him out of his thoughts, “thanks for humoring me today.”
He nods, his stone eyes meeting yours as he gives a slight squeeze to your waist. "Tch, it’s not the worst way to spend my time ," he grumbles, “but don’t get used to it.”
“I’d never dream of it Captain.” you tease playfully and you see him roll his eyes, though you think you catch the tiniest of smirks on his lips.
You fall into a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company, and the solitude the forest brings. The autumn sun casts a golden glow and you admire the beauty that is Levi Ackerman.
“You’re staring brat.” he says, breaking the comfortable silence as he turns his eyes on you, catching you in the act.
"Am not." You deny, but your tone of voice tells him you know exactly what you were doing. You really couldn’t help it, and it wasn’t the first time he’d caught you.
He grunts at your response and just as quickly returns his gaze back to the flowing river. "Don't lie. It’s not a good look on you."
You giggle at his sarcastic comment. “Sorry,” you poke his cheek. “You’re just so nice to look at. As your girlfriend it’s my job to admire you.”
A sigh escapes his lips and he shakes his head. "You're a handful, you know that?" he says, challenging you.
You chuckle and continue to tease him, "And yet, here you are, with me, in the middle of nowhere. It’s kinda romantic, don't you think Captain?”
That causes him to roll his eyes once more. "Just focus on the stupid view and spare me your romantic nonsense."
"Hmm, I think I can do both, Levi. I'm that talented," you reply with a playful nudge.
He rolls his eyes yet again and nudges you back but as you look up at him you can see a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth. "You're really full of yourself." He says, but you think his tone is almost playful…almost.
"Nope, just confident in my capabilities Captain.” you tease.
Levi heaves out a sigh, "That might just be your downfall." he says, that almost playful tone still evident. He nudges you again, “and stop calling me Captain.”
"Damn, here I thought you were starting to enjoy yourself. Silly me." You feign disappointment, though your smile doesn't fade.
He groans, though you can tell he doesn’t mean it. "Don't put words in my mouth, brat." He says, squeezing your waist.
You wriggle from his grasp to face him and let out a laugh, “I wouldn’t do such a thing.”….“Oh and by the way,” you say, your tone even more playful than before, “you don’t complain when I call you Captain when you’ve got me underneath you.”
He scoffs, “Oh shut up. You think you’re real clever don’t you?”
"Only as clever as you've trained me to be, Captain Ackerman," you respond. There's a brief pause between you, only the rustling of the leaves and the faint sound of water flowing disrupting the silence.
He stares at you for a moment before replying, his voice low but clear, "Such a smart mouth you have." Despite the biting words, there's no malice in his tone of voice, just that almost playful tone gripping his words.
You laugh again, "Well, you seem to enjoy it. At least, you haven't tried to gag me...yet."
A sigh escapes him. "I've considered it many times.” he says sarcastically, “though, you’d probably like it too much.”
You lean in close, your lips brushing against his. “Hmm maybe I would.” You say smiling against his lips.
He grabs you by the waist again, this time pulling you into him and flipping you over onto your back. Both hands are at your sides, caging you in like prey. He leans down to kiss you before, “Hmmm. Maybe we’ll have to try that sometime then.”
“Yeah maybe we will.” you say capturing his lips in another kiss…”Captain.”
taglist: @satorizz, @roseofdarknessblog, @belfiguevel, @chilichopsticks, @deepzombieyouth, @svftackerman, @leviismybby, @cassiefromhell, @sunset-euphoria, @unadulteratednachowolf, @bpdtistic
join my taglist :)
#levi x reader#levi ackerman#attack on titan#captain levi#levi aot#aot#snk levi#aot fandom#levi attack on titan#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader fluff#levi fluff#levi x y/n#levi x you#levi ackerman x reader fluff#levi ackerman fluff#captain levi fluff#aot x y/n#aot x you
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for kinktober, please please PLEASE do edging kink with sirius black and prompt no. 16 - "keep your hands where they are. or do i need to tie them up?"
anon the way this request took me out- AHGHAH????
art deco
pairing-sirius black x reader
warning(s)- 18+ content.
a/n- if you think i'm mentally deranged after reading this, then you're right i am.
prompt- edging + 'keep your hands where they are. or do i need to tie them up?'
masterlist
kinkotober rules
kinkotober masterlist
'you're crazy all the time, put your life out on the line'
his kisses heated over your skin, your back pressed against the door of your hotel room. alcohol ran through your veins, the smell of smoke and incense infusing with your brain. you close your eyes, enjoying his touch. he sinks his teeth into your neck, and your fingers intertwine with his hair. his pushes his knee between your thighs, placing it just underneath your clothed core, allowing you the tiniest bit of friction on your clit.
'sirius...' you slur, biting your lip as his thin fingers work on the zipper of your dress. he acknowledges you with a hum, his tongue rolling over the area he had bitten. you grind your hips against his knee, as the dress rolls down your body, falling on the floor.
'you're so fucking pretty,' he rasps, his eyes hiding a lidded look that he desperately tries to hide. his rubs his knee against your core and your mouth falls open at the friction. you grab his shoulder for support, your hips grinding against the fraction of pleasure he's providing you. his sheer shirt reflects the dark ink of his tattoos upon his toned body, the silver chains dangling on his long neck, visible through the gap the undone buttons leave. his trouser hangs so perfectly upon his narrow hips, for a moment you think you might drool.
your finger curls into his belt loop and you pull him closer to you body, his chest pressed against your naked one. you kiss him fervently, undoing his belt, letting it fall on the floor with a loud clank. you bite his lip and he moans into your mouth, feeling your teeth sink into his skin. his lip gashes, and you taste the sweet metallic liquid drown in your mouth. he wraps his arm around your waist, sharing his split blood, tantalizing a dance with your tongue and his, and you open the button of his trouser, letting it hang upon his thighs. he lowers his feet, kicking away the piece of clothing. you moan as his fingers wrap themselves in your tendrils, the mixture of his blood and your saliva divine upon your tastebuds.
he carries you to the bed, pushing you, on the mattress, his breath shuddering inside his chest. he tears apart his shirt, lulled in by your beauty and he falls between your legs. his finger curls with the fabric of your underwear, pulling it down your thighs. he rubs your swollen clit with his thumb, his mouth attaching itself with your throbbing core. you squeak as his tongue divulges between your folds. he tastes you from within, consuming you fucking raw. his fingers curl into you perfectly timed with the lap of his tongue and you bite your lip, arching your back, the coil of your orgasm begging to be released.
'please,' you say, pushing your hips closer still onto his mouth, grabbing his hair, pulling his face closer. he laps at your clit, and a numbness overcomes you. he feels your wall clench around his fingers, and just as you're about to let the pleasure of orgasm wash over you, he pulls away, his teeth flashing his sirius black grin. you look at him quizzical and he tuts,
'you made me wait too long to taste that cunt. you've to wait for it,' he positions himself against your pussy, swollen, at the displeasure of having an orgasm being snatched away. his cock throbs with the lust painted onto his eyes, and he bites his lip before pushing himself into you. the both of you gasp, as you try to adjust his cock in the warmth of you core. it's maniacal how he stares at you, slowly pulling out. the throbbing nerves on his cock drag on the walls of your cunt and you try to swallow a moan.
'fuck,' you swear as he pushes himself into you again. he takes upon a pace, rough and wild as the bed creaks underneath both of your body weights. he hovers above you, his cock pulsing in and out of your throbbing hole, his chains dangling on your face. you grab the cold metal with your mouth, snarling as he increases his pace. your clit begs for a friction, and your hand travels down between your legs before being slapped away-
'keep your hands where they are. or do i need to tie them up?' he rasps, pushing into you with much force and fervor. your arch your back at his words, spitting out his chains, swallowing your throat with the moans you curse out.
'sirius-please,' you beg, your stomach curling into a ball with the need of escape. he tuts, pulling out his cock lazily.
'nuh uh; good girls beg for it, aren't you my good girl darling?' you nod your head, your orgasm denied to you again. he drags his cock into you again, his jaw tightened with the fervent of your tight cunt. the vein on his forehead popped up as he focused on the image of your cunt engulfing his cock whole. it consumed him, tempted him, made him fucking crazy.
the orgasm erupted, boiled in you again. he had hit your sweet spot, and you were deranged, broken, ruthless with the way he discovered your darkest heights. he explored you from within, and like a lunatic, you were ruined. by his words, by his movements.
'sirius-oh my fucking god don't stop-' you screamed, your nails digging into his back. he pulled out once again, denying you your pleasure.
'no?' he chuckled darkly. his fingers lurked over your swollen clit, rubbing it with the slightest, silkiest touch. he murmured, his voice haunting you like a ghost,
'beg for it,' he pushed into you once again, slamming into your guts with all his might and speed. his words tickled your brain and your lips spilled out profanities and his name like a pretty echo, like a fucking chant,
'please sirius let me cum-shit-' he pinned you to the mattress, drilling into you, and the orgasm bubbled into you so hot, like a ferocious fire which gobbled your senses your sanity.
'tell me you're a slave for my cock,' he demanded, sweat trickling down his pectoral muscles. you spluttered with your words, the delicious wave of orgasm hitting you, as you painted his torso with your juices,
'i'm a s- i'm a fucking slave for your cock,' his hand striked against your pussy, as he chased for his own release. his hot seed filled you, your head light as he kissed your hotly, letting you swallow his moans and gasps of pleasure at the way your walls gripped him so tight.
'yeah that's right isn't it?'
#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#marauders#sirius black#sirius x reader#sirius black smut#the marauders#sirius black x reader#sirius black imagine#sirius black thoughts#sirius black fluff#sirius black x you#sirius black fanart#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black x oc#marauders era#kinkotober
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signed with love and forever yours, mark
postage.
lee mark & gn! reader, mentions of death in the context of greek mythos
cost to ship. 712 words
growing up, i never understood the tragedy of orpheus and eurydice. how, upon achieving the opportunity to bring back his beloved, orpheus squandered it all with a single look. it frustrated me, that after all that effort--every song he had written and preformed, compositions which moved all, even gods-- he abandoned all success with a single glimpse backwards. a second of a stare that only captured the whisper of eurydice's figure before she was dragged back to the depths of the underworld. i never understood why he looked back, why he had to fail when he was so close to the edge of triumph.
though i suppose that after meeting you, if i took the place of poor orpheus and you, my eurydice, i'm afraid that i would also lose you for a second time. that i would risk everything i had worked towards, everything that i had done just to see your face in that fraction of a second. to look at you, no matter the consequences. no matter what what i had sacrificed to get to you, no matter if i too would be punished for this singular stare. i would do so, even so close to escape, so close to having you in my arms again without a moment of hesitation. i, not only as orpheus but as mark--your mark--would do anything to spare even the slightest of glances in your direction. even if they would only forfeit half of a second of being captured in the reflection of your eyes and nothing more. for that half of a second, that split sliver in time, would be worth more to me than any hours of gazing upon anything else.
i find us to be more likened to paris and helen of troy. a story i've always understood, at any and all basic fundamentals of its core, though doubted. for how could anyone be so beautiful that others would begin wars over them? that their beauty would be more fair, more compelling than that of the gods? that men would be reduced to nothing more than spurned infatuation, fighting battles--killing-- for any brief moment spent within helen's gaze.
i wasn't sure that any such person could exist. but with you, i find myself to be playing the part of poor paris--destined, perhaps, to starting wars over the mere thought of you.
about mark's love letters.
mark's handwriting is rough and scribbled. oftentimes jotted down with whatever pen he has lying around, series of swirls and scratches at the top margins of the page where he attempts to get the ink to flow. his words, in a stark difference to the somewhat chaotic state of his slanted, all-caps writing, are carefully chosen. hand-picked with the utmost care, the upmost emphasis to ensure the quickening of your heartbeat. though short, his letters are poetic and always very true to himself. you can almost picture the look on his face when he writes them, a fantasy that does nothing but conjure heat into the full of your cheeks.
he first writes these down in his notes app of all places. thumbs frantically typing with every out of the blue strike of inspiration (something that happens rather often, both for songs and for you, though mark could argue that these two things are nearly synonymous). and when he does get the time (something he seems to be always running out of) he transfers these pretty proses to the whitened canvas of card stock. a firm choice, made to last. each one of his letters are signed with less-than-perfect stars and a drawing of whichever thing has recently caught of your fancy (usually him).
mark often sends them in the mail to you but prefers to give his letters to you in person. something he often finds himself regretting when you choose to read them outloud, burying his face in his hands as he begs you to stop. you don't and mark often finds himself begrudgingly thinking that you're much too like haechan for your own good (or his). it's not all bad though, not when the reward for withstanding such utter humiliation on his part is all of your affection. and mark would take anything in the world if it met just receiving one shred of your heart.
your mailbox
taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @chriscentric @trourevaille @firstdonutllamafarm @jenaisnte thank you for supporting me! ♡
🧾 © 00127am 2024
#⏱ wake up! it's 00127am!#💌 letters of my love#📋 - nct dream#📋 - nct 127#📋 - mark#🖇️ love letters#nct 127#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct dream#nct 127 x reader#nct dream x reader#nct dream scenarios#nct dream fanfic#nct dream imagines#nct timestamps#nct dream timestamps#nct dream fluff#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 imagines#mark x reader#mark lee#mark lee x reader#mark fluff#mark lee fluff#mark lee imagines#mark lee scenarios#mark lee drabbles
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Amai Mask with a Darling after they see his real face and not being horrified would be...complicated. At first he would push their limits and try to bait them into calling him ugly, just to make them admit it. He'll be more physically rough with them, grabbing them, pinning them, etc. and when Darling responds with fear, he tries to get them to admit they think he looks like and IS a monster. If Darling doesn't take the bait or says that it isn't his face that scares them, it's obviously how fucking horrible he's being towards them, he gets frustrated at not being able to drag the "truth" out of them.
He leaves them alone for a while, only to come back later the same day and put his hands on their face to force them to look at his. He can tell his veins are starting to show. He doesn't fully explain his history, but he does say that "Sweet Mask" isn't just a metaphor. Every time he sees himself in the mirror, in films, videos, concerts, his likeness in merch, it's a monster's face. Darling's the only person who's been allowed to live after seeing a glimpse of his old face--back when he was human. They only say they're not horrified by his ugliness because they only see a fraction of it. A few bulging veins or a slightly drooping eye is nothing compared to what he originally looked like.
That has to be it, right? If someone had seen him back then and wasn't afraid or disgusted by his face, then...maybe he wouldn't have hated himself so much that he became a monster and transformed his body with the power of self-loathing. No. No, he can't afford to think like that and wonder about what-ifs and could-have-beens. He's the most beautiful being in the world, and he's a top tier Hero. He's surrounded by people who love him, and the happiness of his fans and citizens under his protection are the greatest reward he's ever earned. He couldn't have done all of this as Beaut. So why does he keep thinking like this whenever his Darling looks at his imperfect face without flinching?
He used to be able to justify kidnapping Darling and using them as stress relief easily. The fact they weren't repulsed by his real face meant they were sympathetic to Monsters--sympathetic to evil. Normally he'd kill someone for that, but something he could never explain had stopped him. He just couldn't go through with it, and he couldn't find a way to manipulate them or gaslight them into thinking they hadn't actually seen his real self. So, the best option was to keep them for himself. And if he was going to that trouble, they shouldn't complain about it.
After he reflects on it, he starts to appreciate them a lot more. He's more open, caring even. He starts to feel relieved that there's one place and one person he can be honest with. For some reason it's easier to be that way towards another person than himself. And so Darling becomes more than stress relief; they're a confidant. A precious gift. A weakness. And he despises irresponsible Heroes, so he needs to make sure they're protected and well cared for now that he realized he really does care for them.
It's funny: there are thousands, millions of his fans who would love the chance to experience him burying his face in their chest after sex, but the one person he does that with hates him for everything he's done to them. He's grown attached to his face as his mask, but Darling's body is another comforting hiding place from the world.
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Sorry for making two requests but can I also request the mirror sex kink for Elliot and a fem!SO?
Y'know what, I'll allow it, since at least you're asking for characters I adore and don't get the chance to write for often lol (I say as if I'm not 100% in charge of what I write and am not just a slave to positive feedback and attention whoop)
This one kinda just feels... a little different, stylistically than my usual? Idk it's probably not even noticeable, I don't even know if I have a style lmao
Omg I wrote this whole fucking thing spelling "Elliott" with one T and now I have to go through and correct it so I can post it uuuuugh
Elliott (Stardew) x AFAB Reader
Kink prompt list #48 - Mirror sex
NSFW 18+ V
You've finally managed to arrange things so you could join Elliott on his latest book tour- and he's been so thrilled by this development that, a week and several cities into the trip, he's made love to you in nearly every hotel you'd patronized. Something about having you by his side as he pursued his dream in this thrilling new way had stirred his emotions, and in turn, his libido. Still, tonight's hotel has some... quirks.
He'd assured you that his agent had made all of the travel arrangements, that it was just as much a surprise to him. Still, you couldn't help but note a wide range of 'mood lighting' options, the open view into the shower, and not least of all, mirrors spanning both the ceiling and bed-adjacent wall.
"Well," Elliott had chuckled, an arm around your waist and his lips grazing your ear, "best not to squander such an unexpected opportunity, no?"
Soon enough, you're on his lap with your back to his chest and your legs spread, slung over his thighs. He's positioned you both at the edge of the bed facing the mirror, where he can bask in the feeling of your body against his, and the sight of you mewing and trembling in his arms. In the reflection, you see Elliott's golden-red hair spilling elegantly over your shoulder as his lips trail up towards your neck and his hands run tenderly up your sides. His touch is warm, his whole body flush with lust. Briefly, his teeth graze your neck, just as his hands reach your chest, cupping your breasts.
"Mmh, darling..." he sighs against your skin, pulling you more firmly to him while he watches you in the mirror, "You can't imagine how entranced I am by your body. I wonder if seeing yourself like this will communicate even a fraction of your beauty to your own eyes."
"Elliott..." you whimper softly, face tinged pink at the excessive attention. His gaze is fixed on your reflection, watching with obsessive adoration as his hands squeeze and grope your breasts, fingertips briefly brushing over your stiffened nipples. You jump slightly at the sudden pleasure, arching against him, yet this only encourages his hungry touch. Still decorating your neck with lavish kisses, a hand runs slowly down your front until those long fingers press firm between your lower lips. Gasping out his name, you watch him part your folds, see how soft and responsive they are, how obvious your slick arousal is as he touches you with utter reverence.
"Absolutely breathtaking," Elliott says into the crook of your neck, even as his eyes remain transfixed by your reflection, "Your body is so open to me- so receptive. You were made to be adored, my love."
"Ohh-!"
His fingers stroke gently across your clit, teasing it stiff, prompting you to moan aloud and lean into him. You notice his cock steadily growing harder, rising between your thighs, stirred by your obvious pleasure. Never one to neglect your body, his spare hand is still occupied at your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingertips, only stopping occasionally to caress some part of you and relish in the sight of your flesh beneath his touch. Soon, the fingers at your drooling pussy are rolling firm circles around your clit, shocks of pleasure setting your thighs trembling, climax already building. In the mirror, you see his fingers glisten with your overflowing wetness, briefly hypnotized by the loving and yet intensely erotic way they move. Elliott's handsome brow is deeply furrowed as he loses himself in servicing you, and as your breath quickens and your body burns to your core, you know you're nearly at your limit.
"Watch," he whispers, nuzzling against your hair as you tremble in his arms, "You're so beautiful when you cum- watch for me, please?"
Through the haze of white-hot pleasure pulsing through your center, you force your eyes to the mirror before you. It's embarrassing at first, seeing yourself in such a state- bright red and panting with your hair tossed out of place. But then you see the way Elliott looks at you. It's warm and tender, yes, but also blatantly lustful.
It's that gaze that breaks you; in an instant, your body runs hot as you gasp and pleasure rushes up from your over-sensitive pussy through your entire frame. Elliott urges you through your climax, the firm and steady massaging of his fingers sending new ripples through you with each pass, pulling breathless whimpers from you one after another. You bring a shaking hand to cradle his face behind you, yet you force yourself to watch the mirror all the while. Your lover wants you to see yourself how he sees you. When you meet the half-lidded eyes and panting lips of your own reflection, you think that perhaps you understand what he meant.
#god idk if this is any good lmao#stardew valley#elliott stardew valley#elliott x reader#sdv x reader#stardew valley x reader#stardew valley smut#not sfw#sdv smut#kink prompts
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Burnt Amber
I was reading something the other night about the fact that in the dark the cones in our eyes legit can't respond to light like, at all. considering my recent bg3 binge that obviously got me thinking abt a certain sassy vampire and thus... this piece. (I've also been told there's a scene that could go along with this but I legit just got to act 3) enjoy!
spoilers for vague bg3 things
If he had to explain it - which he never would- the world lost its color. Many people looked back upon childhood so happily, everything had been brighter, the world bigger, love was so easy and quickly fleeting. A babe’s eyes opened to blurry yet vivid shades, pastels, and tints. Yet the first thing Astarion’s crimson eyes had seen was only the darkness of his own coffin. Color meant nothing to a vampire who’s first vivid memories consisted of clawing his way through six feet of funerary dirt.
Though his vampiric vision allowed him to make out the different threads on a rich man’s lapel, he only ever saw it in moonlight. Only a reflection, a fraction of the beauty the sun would give the fabric. Where there had been pastels there was now muted tones, tinted colors became gray, and shades became nothing but more inky darkness.
Centuries of this and he slowly began to forget the true colors the world had to offer. Was purple always so deep that one couldn’t discern where a sleeve ended and the night air began? Had yellow always seemed so dull? And red… had red always been so greedy? Soaking up and glaring back the same sick color he saw in Cazador’s eyes.
That’s all his vampiric life had been, that was all it ever would be.
Yet there he stood, watching the last of the sun’s rays dip below the horizon
Despite his suave demeanor and sweetened words, he knew how to woo someone, lure them into his bed with his body and honeyed words, and later back to his master. Yet no words could describe the sun now. It burned his irises, his eyes ached for him to blink, turn away, and do anything but stare into the sun. He simply couldn’t stop; it would take away his breath if he needed to breathe.
His first realization that color was far better within the sun was, rather unfortunately, Gale. Upon falling on his ass, Gale had done the wizardly thing and began rambling. However, Astarion wasn’t paying attention at all. His eyes were on Gale’s robe. He couldn’t remember a purple ever being so vibrant, so cocky almost, as if requiring you to look at it. It fit Gale as Astarion would come to learn. Then he saw purple everywhere. Balsam blooms carried but seemed a warmer tint of Gale’s robe. Shadowheart’s armor was even darker, matching that which Astarion saw late at night in the alleys of Bauldur’s Gate. He hadn’t really thought about it but he rather thought purple and red clashed. Leave it to that wizard from Waterdeep to be a walking fashion faux pas.
Yet despite the fashion error, Astarion couldn’t stop thinking about purple, the many different shades he had seen in a matter of days. The sun making the slightest variations more obvious to his crimson eyes.
He first realized that light is what made the colors so polluted, as if the colors were waiting to leach into his eyes when he couldn’t help but stare at the color yellow. It was, by far, not his favorite color, drawing too much attention of a rouge like himself.
Yet the golden glow of the divine seemed to suit Shadowheart. The brilliance of a guiding bolt whizzing past his ear, bathing a goblin in light, setting it ablaze. The disgusting color had saved his skin to many times to count by now. All thanks to the devotee’s hands.
The vampire couldn’t say he understood Shadowheart’s devotion. But the sheer power her belief brought the color yellow, made him quirk a brow. Such polluting brillance made him wonder if light was able to redeem every color.
The color followed him after that battle. Yellow licked at Karlach’s flames, light reflected off the golden threads of Halsin’s armor, it even sparked every time Lae’zel sharpened her sword.
Yet there was nothing that could redeem the color red. No amount of light or dark could make crimson look any better. In darkness it looked like a cesspool of all things evil, an open maw waiting to swallow whatever it could. In the light of day, it reminded him of nothing but lost souls, glowing red eyes, and a sickly grin.
It was the color Cazador liked most on him, both his clothes and his skin. It was the color his life had been reduced to. Living off such crimson ichor, so much so that it stained him, stained even his eyes from what he had gathered about vampiric looks. It was the only color that he would be happy to forget, but never could.
“You know if you stare at the sun long enough… you could go blind.” The voice came from behind him, his pointed ears finally picking up on the crunch of gravel beneath feet. His eyes did feel a bit dry as he blinked, black and swirling colors hindering his vision as he looked back over his shoulder.
The leader of their little group was… interesting to say the least. So focused on the tadpole and their companion's journeys that Astarion hadn’t learned much about their own personal goals, if any. He should work on that.
“I always love to look at beautiful things, not unlike yourself darling.” Astarion let the words lilt off his tongue, but didn’t turn away from the setting sun.
He heard a small hum from you as you settled beside him, standing close enough for him to tell that you had refreshed yourself from today’s adventuring.
Neither said anything for a while, the gentle rustle of trees and soft calls of animals in the underbrush the only noise. He had been so lost in his musings that he hadn’t realized how far the sun had set, a barely visible sliver of yellow still visible surrounded by orange and red.
“Well… now that the lovely colors are gone I do believe I’ll turn in for the night. A book and a glass of red do seem to be calling my name.” Astarion sighs, as if it would be a hassle to get up and walk the few steps to his tent. It is a hassle, to leave the presence of their leader has become more and more of a hassle on his heart than he’s willing to accept.
“Don’t go now, it’s just started to change.” Your voice was soft, softer than he has ever heard it and a glance tells him that your eyes are still on the setting sun.
“No thank you darling, I do think I’ve seen enough shades of red for a thousand lifetimes.” There is a twist of pain in his voice, one that makes him wrinkle his nose. He was getting too easy, a slip like that with Cazador and he would have been reminded how much he hates red.
“But the sky is beautiful-“
He cuts you off with a flippant wave of his hand and a scoff. A change of subject was all they needed, easier territory. “It’s just red. You know they say a red sky at night means-“
“It’s not just red Astarion.” You cut him short this time, tone sharp. He didn’t understand why you would defend such a color. Of all things to fight for, a color. They saw red spilled every day, every day their leader fought, for teiflings, for druids, for their companions. Each day that color ruined everything it touched.
“Oh? Do tell darling, what is oh so special about that distasteful mix of colors. A muddled mess of all things awful-“
“I rather think red is beautiful.” Astarion snaps his eyes up, disgust curling his lips, a flaunting jab just ready on the tip of his tongue when your eyes stop him.
At some point, he wasn’t sure when, you had turned to look at him. Eyes just as soft as your voice had been. There is a sweet tilt to your lips as he turns, as if finally seeing what they had been after.
He sees the minute shift of you eyes, as if darting back and forth. He can hear the uptick in your heartbeat, the tension releasing from your shoulders. As if the sight of him was what you were after, as if waiting to catch his eye.
Then he remembered. Remembered exactly what color his eyes now were.
“I happen to like that color.” You grinned, eyes steady on his. His mind was blank, no haughty taunt or seductive words. He could do nothing but blink as a grin spread wide on your lips and you turned back towards the sun.
“When the sun hits just right… it’s beautiful, a burst of burnt amber. I think it’s the prettiest color I’ve ever seen.” Astarion knew they were definitely not talking about the sunset anymore. He couldn’t help but stare at you. The curve of your nose, the way your smile seemed so giddy, the way the sun reflected in your own eyes.
Red was the color of the flowers Karlach had tried to pick for all of them. It was the color the jewels in Lae’zel’s armor, the color the hem of Gale’s awful robe. And it was the color of the blood you so willingly gave him. Had offered as soon as he had explained himself that night, without asking for anything in return. You were so different than what he expected.
He tutted, realizing he had been staring and turns back towards the sunset, listening closely as you go to sit on the ground. The bright yellow of the sun diffused into a russet orange that slowly eased into a vibrant, dazzled red. He sighed, slowly settling himself beside you, far closer than before.
“Yes darling, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I could grow to love it.”
#bg3 astarion#bg3#astarion x durge#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3 fanfiction#baulders gate 3#baulders gate astarion
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