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LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Part I

Part Two | Part Three Words: 8.5K Themes: Very Angsty?, Break-up, Violence, Kidnapped, Super Human transformation, Action, Attempted Assault, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Summary: Set in 1942. Steve allowed being a Super Soldier inflate his ego. After a breaking up with Steve, your world shatters then you're abducted and subjected to a mysterious experiment. A/N: I was washing the dishes when this came to me. I thought Y/N was really BADASS at the end. Baby girl is bad bitch, she on Fire. Paint the town red can be her song. A reblog would be noice <3

The sun was setting over Brooklyn, casting long shadows across the streets. You and Steve walked side by side, your fingers intertwined, the cool breeze of the evening wrapping around you both. Steve’s small hand fit perfectly in yours, a comforting reminder of the years you had spent together, supporting each other through thick and thin.

It wasn’t easy being with him, especially with how the world treated him—just a scrawny, sickly guy who never knew when to give up.

Your parents disapproved and your friends laughed at you for choosing Steve over James. You always tell Steve, ‘If they laugh, then fuck'em all.’

He has a good heart and you loved him for it— for his determination, his kindness, and his unwavering sense of right and wrong.

As you walked, a heavy silence hung between you. The reason was clear: James or known as Bucky Barnes, was shipping out to fight in the war. The three of you had been inseparable, a trio bound by shared history and deep affection. But now, Bucky was leaving, and the thought of losing him weighed heavily on your heart.

“Well, I guess this is it. I’m heading out tomorrow.” Bucky finally stopped and turned to you both, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You nodded, trying to keep the sadness from showing on your face. “It’s not going to be the same without you, Bucky.”

He gave a small chuckle, though it lacked its usual warmth. “You’ll manage. You’ve got this punk to keep you busy.” He playfully nudged Steve, who smiled weakly in return.

“I should be going with you, Bucky,” Steve said, his voice tight with emotion.

“You’re gonna be fine, Steve. You’ve got that heart of yours, and that’s stronger than any muscle.” Bucky’s expression softened, and he reached out, placing a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. He turned to you, his gaze filled with concern.

“And you, Y/N… take care of him, will ya? Someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You forced a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I will, Bucky. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into a tight hug, holding you for a moment longer than necessary. When he finally let go, he clasped hands with Steve, their handshake lingering as they both tried to hold onto the moment.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Bucky said, trying to lighten the mood.

Steve gave a small laugh, but it was strained. “No promises.”

With one last look at both of you, Bucky nodded, then turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance.

As he left, the weight of his absence settled over you like a thick fog. The world suddenly felt colder, emptier without Bucky’s presence.

“He’ll be okay,” Steve said quietly, more to himself than to you, as you both stood there in silence, watching Bucky disappear.You leaned into Steve, seeking comfort in his presence.

“I hope so. I don’t know what we’ll do if something happens to him.” Steve squeezed your hand, trying to be reassuring.

“He’s strong. He’ll make it back.” But deep down, both of you knew there were no guarantees in war.

× × × ×

A few weeks later, the day finally came when Steve received his enlistment notice. You were there when he got the news, a mixture of pride and worry swirling in your chest. He had finally done it—he was going to fight in the war, just like Bucky. But that also meant he was leaving you behind, just like Bucky.

“I can’t believe it,” Steve said, staring at the paper in his hands, his voice filled with excitement. “I’m actually going.”

You smiled, though it was bittersweet. “I knew you would. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met, Steve. They’d be crazy not to let you in.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. You’ve always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.” Steve looked up at you, his expression softening.

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so proud of you, Steve. You’re going to do great things. Just… promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve’s eyes were filled with emotion as he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I promise, Y/N. I’ll come back to you. I swear.”

But as you held him, a deep sadness settled over you. First Bucky, now Steve—everyone you cared about was leaving, going off to fight a war that seemed so far removed from your life in Brooklyn. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread, a fear that things would never be the same again.

× × × ×

The day Steve came back from the super-soldier program, everything changed. You had waited anxiously for news, praying that everything would go smoothly, that he would come back to you safe and sound. When you finally saw him again, it was nothing like you imagined.

The first time you laid eyes on the new Steve Rogers was outside a government building, where a crowd had gathered. You pushed your way through, eager to see him after weeks of silence. When you finally spotted him, your breath caught in your throat.There he was—tall, muscular, and impossibly different. The boy you once knew was gone, replaced by a man who exuded power and confidence. It was Steve, and yet it wasn’t.

“Steve!” you called out, your voice lost in the noise of the crowd. You tried to make your way toward him, but the throng of people pushed you back, jostling you aside as they clamored for a closer look at the hero.

Steve seemed oblivious to the crowd around him, focused entirely on the conversation he was having with a woman by his side—Peggy Carter. You had heard about her, of course, but seeing them together was different. There was an ease between them that made your heart sink.

“Steve!” you called out again, louder this time, but he didn’t hear you—or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. You watched as Peggy leaned in closer, her hand resting on his arm in a way that felt far too familiar.

Then, as if in slow motion, you saw Steve get into a car with her, leaving you standing alone in the crowd, feeling completely invisible.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to see you, to run to you, to hold you in his arms like he always did. But instead, he was driving away with someone else, and you were left behind, forgotten.

× × × ×

A few weeks pass by with not one word from Steve, the last time you heard his voice was on the radio, giving a speech that would motivate the soldiers out there or in the newspaper. You were sitting by the window, reading a book while your cat rested peacefully on your lap. Then, there was a knock at the door. You kept your ears attentive, though your eyes were focused somewhere else.

You heard your mother answer it, and you listened as she exchanged a few words with whoever was at the door. A moment later, she called out to you, “Y/N, there’s a soldier here to see you.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion as you walked toward the door. A soldier? Why would—?

As you reached the doorway, your breath caught in your throat. There, standing in the threshold, was Steve Rogers, but not the Steve you remembered. He was taller, broader, wearing an army uniform that fit him perfectly, and his entire presence seemed… different. The frail, sickly boy you had known was gone, replaced by a man you barely recognized.

“Do you know this gentleman, dear?” Your mother, still standing by the door, looked between you and Steve, clearly confused.

“It’s me, Mrs. L/N, Steve Rogers.” Steve gave her a warm smile, his voice deeper than you remembered.

Your mother blinked, looking Steve up and down before recognition finally dawned on her face. “Steve? My goodness, look at you! I didn’t even recognize you. You look… Well, you look like a different person altogether!”

“Yes, he… he certainly does.” You forced a smile, still trying to process the fact that he's standing there.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” Your mother gave you a strange look as she walked past, heading back into the house.

The heck was that about?

As she disappeared into the other room, you turned your attention back to Steve, your heart pounding. You looked up at him, which was something you weren't used to. He's so. . .tall.

“Steve… is that really you?”

“It’s me, Y/N,” Steve replied, his voice deeper than you remembered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Things have been… crazy in the last couple of days.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment.

Steve smiled, a hint of the old Steve you knew shining through. “I’m more than okay. I want to make it up to you. How about I take you out to dinner tonight? Just the two of us.”

Your heart lifted at the thought. Maybe this was your chance to reconnect, to get back to the way things were.

“I’d like that,” you said softly. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Listen, I need to go back but I'll see you at our favorite spot? Six-thirty?” He reaches for your hands and kissed the back of it.

“I’ll be there,” you chuckled at his romantic gesture.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” He winks at you, and you couldn’t help but giggle. This new playful side of him, got you hooked like a fish.

× × × ×

“Good evening, Ma'am. Do you have a reservation for tonight?” the hostess asked politely, her hands poised over the guest book.

“Yes. Steve Rogers?”

The hostess scanned the list, her finger trailing down the page. “Table 11. Right this way.” She smiled warmly and gestured for you to follow.

Your heart quickened as you anticipated seeing Steve, but when you reached the table, your smile faltered. The chair opposite you was empty. The hostess pulled it out for you, and with a quiet sigh, you sat down, your eyes flickering anxiously toward the door.

“Can I offer you any refreshments?”

“Not at the moment.”

“No problem. Let us know if you need anything.” With a nod, she left you alone, leaving the weight of the evening to settle over you.

Minutes turned into an hour, and you found yourself glancing at the door every time it opened, only to be met with disappointment as someone other than Steve entered. As the hours passed, your hope began to wane, replaced by a growing knot of irritation in your chest.

But as the hours ticked by, your hope began to fade. The restaurant was closing, and still, there was no sign of him. The waitstaff was cleaning up around you, giving you sympathetic looks as you sat there alone, trying to hold back the tears.

The restaurant was winding down, the waitstaff quietly cleaning up around you. Their sympathetic looks were hard to ignore as you sat alone, struggling to keep your emotions in check. You felt a lump in your throat, your eyes stinging as you blinked back tears.

“Miss, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re closing,” a waiter said gently, approaching you with a cautious smile.

You nodded, trying to muster some semblance of dignity, “I’m so sorry. I’ll be on my way.” You snuffled and smiled as you got up from your seat. Getting up alone was hard, the weight of embarrassment was weighing you down.

Just as you turned to leave, the door swung open. Steve rushed in, his face flushed and hair slightly disheveled. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, hurrying over to you. “I got caught up in something important. I didn’t mean to be late.”

The staff paused in their work, their eyes shifting between you and Steve. There stood the dashing soldier, looking every bit the hero in his crisp uniform, yet here he was, unmistakably late. As their gazes turned to you in your lavender shirtwaist dress, it was clear they understood why you had waited so long.

“It’s eleven.” Your voice seethed after glancing at your watch, noticing a red smudge on his collar, “They’re closed. Let’s talk outside.”

Without waiting for a response, you cleared your throat and walked out, brushing past him intentionally to make your anger known. Steve followed closely behind, sensing the storm brewing between you two. This was the first time he had been this late, and you were struggling to decide whether to forgive him easily or let him feel the full weight of your emotions.

“Steve, where were you? I waited for hours,” you said, trying to keep your voice whole, this feeling like you were losing him is foreign and hard to keep internally.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I got caught up with something… important.” Steve barely met your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“More important than us?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, the pain of being pushed aside finally surfacing.

Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s not like that. You know I’m trying to do the right thing. There’s so much going on, and I—”

“Forgot about me?” You didn’t want to be this person, but the loneliness and the fear of losing him had been building up for too long. Without Bucky around, you had no one to turn to, no one to share this burden with. “I understand that you have responsibilities now, but you made a promise.”

He finally looked at you, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Y/N, I’m not leaving you behind. I just. . . things are different.”

“I can see that,” you said, you look at him from head to toe. The man standing in front of you wasn’t the same Steve who used to hold you and make you feel like the most important person in the world. This was someone else, someone who had outgrown you, “You’ve changed, and I’m not talking about your appearance.”

“I’m still me, Y/N. But now, I have responsibilities, people who rely on me.” Steve looked down, guilt flashing in his eyes.

“And what about me?” you asked, the hurt evident in your voice. “Do I even matter anymore, or was I just someone to keep you company when you had nothing else?”

“Don’t say that,” Steve replied quickly out of spite, “Maybe… maybe you were only with me because you felt sorry for me. For who I was.”

His words cut deep, and you recoiled as if he had struck you. “You think I was with you out of pity? Is that what you believe?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, his voice strained.

“How could you think that?” you said, your voice rising with a mix of anger and hurt. “I was with you because I love you, Steve. Not because I felt sorry for you. I believed in you, and I loved you for who you were, not because of what you couldn’t do or how you appear.”

“I’m just not sure where I fit in this new world, and I’m not sure where you fit in it either. I'm trying to wo—”

Your chest began feeling tight because of his words. You had always known that things would change after the serum, but you never expected him to question your feelings like this.

“So, what are you saying? That there’s no place for me in your life anymore? That I don’t belong because you’ve become someone else?” You emphasized his structure with your hand.

Steve shook his head, looking frustrated. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I just… I feel like we’re both hanging on to something that’s already gone.”

“Already gone? Nothing was gone, at least not on my part.” Tears welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep your voice from cracking, “Is there someone else? Is that why you’re looking for a way out?”

“No! Of course not. It's because for once in myself I feel like I'm worth something,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

The finality of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had fought so hard to hold onto him, to keep the love between you alive, but now it felt like you were losing that battle. You had wanted him to stay tonight, to make things right, but now you weren’t sure if there was anything left to salvage.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned away, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over.

“You know what? Just… go, Steve. Do whatever it is you have to do. I will not think less of myself just because you do not know how to love me anymore.” you said, your voice heavy with resignation.

“Y/N…” Steve’s voice was soft, filled with regret, but you couldn’t face him. Not now.

“Please, Steve. Just go.”

What you really wanted to say was, “Please stay. Show me that I still matter to you.” But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You were too afraid that he wouldn’t fight for you, and the thought of that was too painful to bear.

Steve hesitated, his eyes wandering as if trying to find the right words. He just stood there, saying nothing.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you walked closer to him, his face softening as you reached up and gently adjusted his collar. Your fingers brushed against the fabric, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Then, in the calmest voice you could muster, you said, “Lemon helps with removing lipstick stains.”

Steve’s eyes widened in panic, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch the spot where your fingers had been.

“Y/N, I seriously don't know how this got here—” he began and it almost sounded genuine, his voice filled with panic as he tried to close the distance between you.

But you took a step back, your eyes now red and brimming with tears. You raised a hand to stop him, your voice breaking as you sobbed deeply, “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Steve’s heart shattered at the sight of you sobbing, your pain a statement in every tear that fell. His instinct was to reach out, to hold you, but your outstretched hand and the heartbreak in your eyes kept him rooted to the spot.

If Bucky were here… The thought pierced his mind like a knife, and suddenly, jealousy coursed through him, hot and irrational. Bucky. The one person who had always managed to make you smile, even when he couldn’t. The one who could draw out your laughter with just a word, a look. The one who, despite being his best friend, had always been a shadow in the corner of Steve’s mind when it came to you.

Was it easier with Bucky? Did you love Bucky more than him? Had you ever thought of Bucky in ways that Steve couldn’t bear to imagine?

“You should’ve just chosen Bucky.” Steve muttered and with one last, tortured look at you, Steve turned away, his steps. He walked away, leaving you standing there, your tears flowing freely now. He didn’t look back, too afraid of what he might see if he did.

Your breath caught in your throat, the shock of his words slicing through the already unbearable pain. You stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to process the bitterness in his voice, the finality of his statement.

The Steve you had known was gone. You didn’t know if looking for him would be worth it because you knew how it would feel—it would feel like reaching for smoke.

Heartbroken and feeling more isolated than ever, you decided to walk home alone. Your cries echoes the street, water gushing out of your eyes like it’s being released by a dam. The echo of your footsteps on the empty streets was a haunting reminder of just how alone you felt. Steve had left, and with him, it felt like a part of your heart had been ripped away.

Steve’s words replayed in your mind, cutting deeper with every repetition. The idea that he thought you might have been with him out of pity or that you're better off with Bucky was a knife to your heart, twisting with every breath.

The streets of Brooklyn were eerily quiet, the usual bustle replaced by an unsettling stillness. The lamps cast long, distorted shadows across the pavement, and every sound seemed amplified in the silence. You quickened your pace, trying to escape the weight of your thoughts, but it was no use.

As you turned down a narrow street, the familiar surroundings suddenly felt foreign and oppressive. You hugged your coat tighter around you, your mind racing with a mixture of fear and despair. Ahead, the road forked into two directions—one leading to your home, the other into an even darker, narrower alley. You turned towards home, your heart pounding as you tried to shake the feeling of being watched.

Then, without warning, you heard the screech of tires on the asphalt. Before you could react, a van skidded to a stop in front of you, its headlights blinding in the dark street. The doors flew open, and three men in dark clothing jumped out, their faces obscured by shadows.

Panic surged through you as you spun on your heel, trying to run, but it was too late. They were on you in an instant, their grips like iron as they dragged you towards the van.

“No! Let me go! Help! Please someone!” you screamed, thrashing against their hold, but your voice was swallowed by the night, and the empty streets offered no help. Your heart raced, the fear consuming you as you struggled with the best you can.

A cloth was suddenly pressed against your mouth and nose, and a sickly sweet smell filled your senses. You tried to hold your breath, to fight against the drowsiness that quickly overtook you, but it was no use. The world around you started to blur, your vision darkening as your body went limp.

The last thing you heard before everything went black was the sound of the van doors slamming shut and the dull roar of the engine as it sped away into the night.

× × × ×

DAY ONE

When you woke, the world was a haze of pain and confusion. The first thing you noticed was the cold metal pressing against your back, you were naked. Your wrists and ankles were strapped to a metal table, the restraints biting into your skin. Panic clawed at your chest as you struggled against the bonds, but they held firm, keeping you pinned down.

Your vision was blurry, your head pounding from whatever they had used to knock you out. Slowly, the room around you came into focus—bare, clinical, with walls of stark white. You weren’t in Brooklyn anymore. You weren’t anywhere you recognized.

You heard voices, cold and detached, speaking in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out the words, but the tone sent chills down your spine. Footsteps approached, and a shadow loomed over you.

A man’s face came into view, his expression devoid of any warmth or compassion. “She’s awake. Prepare the serum.”

The word “serum” sent a jolt of fear through you, and you renewed your struggles, trying to break free. But the restraints didn’t budge, and the man paid no attention to your terror or the muffled screams that bounced off the walls.

You felt a sharp prick in your arm as they injected something into your veins. Immediately, a searing pain shot through your body, like liquid fire burning through every nerve. You tried to scream, but your voice was caught in your throat, choked off by the agony that consumed you.

The pain was unbearable and you could feel your body convulsing on the table, your muscles seizing as the serum spread through you. It felt like your entire being was being torn apart, every cell screaming in protest. You began to foam in the mouth, the scene your captors watched was like out of an exorcist movie.

And then… nothing. The world around you went dark, and you slipped into unconsciousness, the pain finally giving way to merciful oblivion.

“Sir, should we stop?” One of them said, “Her vital signs are getting dangerously out of limits, she might go into cardiac arrest.”

“No, keep going until that last vial is finished. I want to see what’ll happen. Then we repeat until there’s signs of success.”

DAY TWO

You awoke to the sensation of your body being dragged, rough hands gripping your arms as they pulled you across the cold, unforgiving floor. Your vision was clouded, your mind struggling to grasp onto reality as the fog of unconsciousness began to lift. Every inch of you ached, a dull, throbbing pain that seemed to seep into your very bones.

As you were hoisted back onto the metal table, the cold surface pressed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The restraints clamped down on your wrists and ankles once more, their cruel bite familiar by now. The room around you was still the same—sterile, white, and devoid of any humanity.

You tried to speak, but your throat was on dry and on fire, your voice barely a whisper. "Please... stop..."

Your plea fell on deaf ears. The figures in lab coats moved around you with the same clinical detachment as before, their faces obscured by surgical masks. One of them approached, holding a clipboard, his eyes scanning the data as if you were nothing more than a lab rat.

"Her vitals stabilized overnight," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But... the readings are inconsistent. I'm not sure if the serum is taking effect."

The man from before—the one who had ordered the serum—stepped into view, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. He leaned over you, his eyes scrutinizing your face with a mix of curiosity and impatience.

"Let's see if she can handle more," he said, his voice flat, giving nothing away.

Panic surged through you, your heart racing as you remembered the excruciating pain from the day before. You tried to struggle, but your body was too weak, too drained from the torment they had already inflicted on you.

The man nodded to one of his colleagues, who approached with another syringe, the liquid inside glowing with an ominous, sickly hue. You watched in horror as the needle approached your arm, every muscle in your body tensing with dread.

"No... no, please..." you begged, your voice breaking.

But they didn't stop. The needle pierced your skin once again, and the liquid fire coursed through your veins, more intense than before. The pain was immediate, searing through you like a thousand white-hot knives. You thrashed against the restraints, your screams tearing through the air, but there was no escape from the agony.

The world around you blurred as the pain became all-consuming, every nerve in your body ablaze. You could feel your heart pounding erratically, your vision darkening at the edges. It was too much, too overwhelming.

But this time, there was no merciful oblivion waiting for you. The pain persisted, dragging you down into a nightmare from which there was no escape. Your body convulsed violently, your muscles seizing as the serum wreaked havoc within you.

The voices around you became distant, muffled by the roaring in your ears. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but their tone was one of cold observation, detached from the suffering they were causing.

"Her body's reacting... but the patterns aren't consistent. It’s hard to tell if it’s working or if she’s just... rejecting it."

"Increase the dosage," the man ordered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched your writhing form. "We need to push her further. If there's any sign of success, we'll see it soon enough."

"But sir," one of the lab technicians hesitated, his voice uncertain. "If we push too hard, she might not survive the next round. The readings are already erratic—she could go into shock or worse."

"That’s a risk I’m willing to take," the man replied coldly. "We won’t know until we push her limits."

Your heart sank at his words. There was no end to this. They were going to keep pushing, keep testing, until either the serum took hold of your body or gave out entirely.

As you lay there, barely conscious, the pain began to ebb slightly, leaving you trembling and drenched in sweat. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you tried to cling to consciousness.

"Prepare the next dose," the man ordered, his voice devoid of any empathy.

This time, your heart sank even deeper. The nightmare wasn’t just beginning—it was accelerating, and there was no way out. You were trapped in this hell, at the mercy of those who saw you as nothing more than an experiment, a means to an end. And whether or not the serum was taking effect, you knew that whatever happened next would push you to your breaking point—and beyond.

DAY EIGHTY

When you woke, the familiar chill of the metal table greeted you. The room was as stark and clinical as ever, but something had changed within you. The pain was still there, a constant, gnawing presence, but it no longer controlled you. You had become accustomed to it, numb to its bite. It was just another part of your existence now.

Eighty days.

Eighty days of torment, of relentless experimentation, of feeling your body and mind pushed to their breaking points and beyond. You had lost track of time somewhere around the third week, the days and nights blending into a seamless blur of agony and darkness. But even as the days passed, you remained conscious, aware—alive.

The door to the room opened, and you didn’t bother to turn your head. You knew who it was. The man with the cold eyes approached, his footsteps echoing on the hard floor. He had become a constant in your world, his presence as regular as the pain he inflicted.

“You’re still with us, I see,” he remarked, his tone as detached as ever. He moved closer, inspecting the restraints that held you down. “Most impressive.”

You didn’t respond. You hadn’t spoken in days—there was nothing left to say. Every word, every plea had fallen on deaf ears. You had learned long ago that silence was your only companion in this hell.

“Her vitals are stronger,” a technician noted, glancing at the monitors that tracked your every heartbeat. “We’ve noticed a significant increase in her strength and resilience. The serum seems to be taking effect.”

The man nodded, though there was no satisfaction in his expression. “Eighty days,” he mused, as if talking to himself. “Eighty days, and you’re still here. Stronger, faster… more than we ever anticipated.”

He turned his gaze to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But are you in control, I wonder? Or has the serum taken control of you?”

His words hung in the air, but you didn’t flinch. The battle for control was something you fought every day, every hour. The serum coursing through your veins had changed you in ways you couldn’t fully understand yet, but you were still you—or so you told yourself.

“Let’s see if we can push it further,” he said, signaling to the technician.

The restraints were released, and you felt the cold metal slide away from your wrists and ankles. You didn’t move, not yet. You had learned to conserve your strength, to hold back until the moment was right.

“Sit up,” he commanded.

You obeyed, slowly raising yourself into a seated position. Your movements were deliberate, controlled. You could feel the power coursing through your body, every muscle coiled with potential energy, but you kept it in check.

The man stepped back, giving you space, watching you closely. “Stand.”

You slid off the table, your bare feet touching the cold floor. You stood, swaying slightly as the blood rushed to your head. But you remained upright, your gaze locked on the man who had been your tormentor for nearly three months.

“Walk,” he ordered, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

You took a step forward, then another. Your legs were shaky at first, but you quickly found your balance. Each movement felt strange, foreign, as if you were inhabiting a body that wasn’t entirely your own. But you continued, step after step, until you were standing directly in front of him.

“Good,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Very good.”

He reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch was light, almost gentle, but you could sense the underlying threat in it. “Now, let’s see just how far we can take this.”

You didn’t react as he motioned for the guards to step forward, their weapons at the ready. You knew what was coming next. This was another test, another attempt to push you beyond your limits.

The guards surrounded you, their faces expressionless, their grips tight on their weapons. The man gave a slight nod, and they moved as one, striking out at you with calculated precision.

But this time, you were ready. The serum had done its work. You were faster, stronger, and as their blows came toward you, you reacted with a speed that surprised even you. You deflected the first strike with ease, the second with even greater efficiency. Your movements were fluid, instinctual, a dance of power and precision.

Within moments, the guards were on the ground, groaning in pain, their weapons scattered across the floor. You stood over them, breathing heavily, your heart pounding with adrenaline. The power surging through you was intoxicating, overwhelming, but you were in control. For now.

The man watched you with a hint of something in his eyes—respect, maybe, or perhaps something more sinister.

“Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

You stood there, the blood rushing in your ears, your body alive with the thrill of what you had just done. But beneath it all, there was a gnawing sense of unease. You had changed, become something different, something more. But at what cost?

As the guards were dragged away, the man turned to you once more. “Eighty days,” he repeated, a slight smile playing on his lips. “And now, the real work begins.”

You didn’t respond. You had nothing left to say. The battle was far from over, and as you looked into the cold, calculating eyes of your captor, you knew that whatever came next would push you even further into the darkness.

But you were ready. Because after eighty days of hell, you had learned one thing—you would survive, no matter what.

DAY 100

The pain had reached a point where it was almost surreal, as if your mind had detached itself from your body to protect what was left of your sanity. You lay strapped to the cold metal table, your skin clammy, your breaths shallow. The serum that had been forced into your veins was taking its final toll. Your vision blurred, the edges of your world darkening as you teetered on the brink of consciousness.

The man with the cold eyes stood over you, his expression hard as he watched the monitors tracking your vitals. He had been relentless, pushing the experiments further each day, determined to force the serum to work. But today, something was different. The lines on the monitor were becoming erratic, your heart rate spiking and dipping unpredictably.

"Her vitals are deteriorating rapidly," a technician warned, his voice tinged with anxiety. "She's not stabilizing. We should stop."

The man clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "We’re too close. Increase the dosage."

"But sir, she won't survive—"

"Do it!" he barked, cutting off the protest.The technician hesitated for a moment before injecting you with another dose of the glowing serum. The liquid fire surged through your veins, and the world around you exploded into pain once again. But this time, it was different—this time, your body couldn’t take it.

You convulsed violently on the table, the restraints digging into your skin as your body fought a losing battle. Your vision darkened further, the room around you fading into an indistinct blur. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, a desperate rhythm that couldn’t keep pace with the assault on your system.

And then, it stopped. The world around you went silent. your life flashed before your eyes, beginning with the warmth of your childhood—the comforting embrace of your mother as she read you stories at night, the sound of her laughter filling your small apartment in Brooklyn. You remembered the day you met Steve, the shy, awkward boy who had tripped over his own feet trying to impress you, and Bucky’s teasing grin as he nudged Steve forward, encouraging him to finally ask you out. There were memories of long summer days spent in the park, the three of you inseparable, sharing ice cream and dreams of the future.

But then, the memories shifted. The warmth drained away as you saw Steve walking away from you, his back turned, his footsteps echoing in the empty space between you. . .

“Dispose of the body.”

× × × ×

D - 100

When you woke up this time, you weren’t in the cold, sterile room. Instead, you were lying in an alley, discarded like trash. The hard, wet pavement was unforgiving against your body, and the chill in the air bit through your clothes. You don’t know what day or even month it was.

Your once neat and tidy outfit was now torn and filthy, covered in grime and dirt from the alleyway. The lavender shirtwaist dress you had worn so proudly earlier was now barely recognizable, stained with mud and who knows what else.

Your hair, once carefully styled, was now a tangled mess, strands sticking to your face, damp with sweat and the moisture of the night. You could feel the grit and dirt under your nails, the remnants of your struggle to free yourself from whatever hellish place you had been held. Your hands were scraped and raw, the skin broken and bleeding in places.

Your face felt gritty, as if you’d been dragged through the dirt. As you lifted a hand to touch your cheek, you could feel the rough texture of dried blood and dirt clinging to your skin. Your body aches all over, every muscle sore from the strain of whatever had been done to you. The cold dusk air bit into your exposed skin, making you shiver as you struggled to push yourself up from the ground.

The street was dimly lit, the sound of distant traffic the only sign of life around you. The once-familiar streets of Brooklyn now felt alien and hostile, and in your current state, you felt like a ghost haunting the city you once knew.

You stood there, shivering and alone, the reality of your situation sank in. Whoever had taken you had done something to you—something that had changed you. But they had deemed you a failure, or perhaps an afterthought, and simply left you to fend for yourself.

You felt stronger, different, but the overwhelming sense of abandonment weighed heavily on your heart. You looked down at your hands, trembling as you tried to comprehend what had happened to you.

Just as you began to move, your disheveled appearance caught the attention of a group of men lurking in the shadows. They saw an easy target—someone weak, vulnerable, alone. Their eyes locked onto you, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you like a predator sizing up its prey. But they had no idea what they were about to face.

“Hey, look what we got here,” one of them called out, his voice dripping with malice. He stepped forward, a smirk spreading across his face as he took in your bedraggled state. “You look like you’ve had a rough night, sweetheart.”

Another man snickered, his eyes narrowing as he moved to block your path. “Where you headed in such a hurry? We could keep you company.”

The men began to circle you, cutting off any chance of escape. Their leers and mocking laughter echoed off the walls of the alley, making your skin crawl. You backed away, your heart racing, but they kept closing in, their intent all too clear.

One of them reached out to grab your arm, but before his hand could make contact, something snapped inside you. The fear that had gripped you earlier was replaced by a cold, detached resolve.

With a sudden burst of strength, you lashed out, your fist connecting with the man’s jaw. The impact sent him reeling backward, blood spurting from his mouth. He stumbled, crashing into a pile of trash cans with a loud clatter, his smug expression replaced by shock.

The other men hesitated, their bravado faltering as they realized you were not the helpless victim they had assumed. But their hesitation quickly turned to anger, and they surged forward, determined to make you pay for their friend’s humiliation.

But they didn’t stand a chance.

With a newfound power surging through your veins, you moved like a force of nature. You dodged their clumsy attempts to grab you, your movements fluid and precise. Every strike you landed sent them staggering back, their groans of pain filling the air.

One man lunged at you, his hands reaching for your throat, but you ducked under his grasp, spinning on your heel to deliver a powerful kick to his midsection. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of him, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.

Another man tried to grab you from behind, but you twisted out of his grip, your elbow slamming into his ribs with a sickening crack. He howled in pain, clutching his side as he fell to his knees.

The last man standing looked at you with wide, fearful eyes, his confidence shattered. “What the hell are you?” he stammered, backing away.

You stared at him, feeling that cold detachment settle over you once more. “Someone you should never have messed with,” you replied, your voice calm and steady.

Without another word, you stepped forward and struck him with a swift, powerful punch. He didn’t have time to react before he was sent crashing to the ground, unconscious.

As you stood there, surrounded by the groaning forms of the men who had tried to attack you, the reality of what you had just done began to sink in. You had taken them down with ease, without even thinking. The fear that had gripped you earlier was gone, replaced by something else—something darker, more dangerous.

You looked down at your hands, trembling slightly as you tried to process what had just happened. They were bruised and dirty, knuckles bloodied from the fight, but they were steady, powerful. You weren’t the same person who had been taken from the streets and subjected to whatever hellish experiment had been done to you.

You were stronger now, and that strength came with a cold, hard edge that scared you as much as it empowered you.

But there was no time to dwell on it. You needed to get out of there, to find somewhere safe where you could figure out what had been done to you. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you began to walk away from the alley, leaving the men behind.

As you disappeared into the early morning light, the realization that you were truly alone settled in your heart. You had been discarded, left to fend for yourself. But you would survive this. You would become stronger, faster, more powerful than anyone who had ever underestimated you.

And if Steve had truly discarded you as well, if he had moved on and left you behind, then you would prove that you didn’t need him—or anyone else.

By the time the sun began to rise, you were no longer the same person who had waited at that restaurant, hoping for a fresh start. The flame that once burned brightly for Steve had turned to cold, hardened embers.

You vowed never to let anyone discard you again.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, you trudged through the streets, your skin a canvas of bruises and cuts, each one a testament to the brutality you had endured. The world around you seemed surreal, almost detached, as if you were walking through a twisted dream.

People noticed you—how could they not? Their eyes lingered a fraction too long before they darted away, some filled with pity, others with fear or disgust. Concerned mothers pulled their children closer, shielding them from the sight of you as if you were a monster, something to be feared and avoided. Whispers followed you like a shadow, just out of earshot but thick with judgment, dripping with the cruelty of strangers who saw only the surface.

No one approached you. No one dared. The stares didn’t bother you. In fact, you welcomed them. Let them look, let them fear. You would not be pitied. You would not be scorned. If the world wanted to see you as a monster—then so be it.

As you walked, a familiar part of town began to come into view. You knew these streets well, every crack in the sidewalk, every faded storefront. It had been a place of comfort, of familiarity—but now it felt foreign, like you were an intruder in a place that no longer belonged to you.

Then, through the blur of people, you saw her. Your mother. She stood on the corner, frantically handing out pieces of paper with your picture on them, her eyes scanning every face that passed by, desperate and searching

When her gaze landed on you, her expression shifted—first to shock, then to fear, relief, and heartbreak that hit you like a punch to the gut. Your heart clenched, a pang of pity slicing through the wall you’d built around yourself. You had steeled yourself against so much, but seeing her there, so fragile, so broken, was almost too much to bear.

“M-Mom?” Your voice cracked, a betrayal of the emotions you fought so hard to suppress. For a split second, you felt like yourself again, but then that cold voice in your head reminded you: no tears, no weakness.

She rushed toward you, disbelief widening her eyes, her hand trembling as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Y/N? Is that you?” she gasped, her voice trembling.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to speak as she reached out to you. Her hands, trembling, cupped your face, her touch so familiar yet so foreign. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in your appearance.

“What… what happened to you?” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

The tears in her eyes reflected the pain you had tried so hard to bury. But you couldn’t let it out—not now. Not after everything.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say, though the words felt hollow. You pulled away from her touch, the warmth of it almost too painful to bear.

“No, you’re not,” she insisted, her voice shaking as she looked you up and down, trying to understand what had happened to her daughter. “Who did this to you? Where have you been?”

You shook your head, the emotions churning inside you too chaotic to form into coherent thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied, your voice colder than you intended. “I just need to go home.”

Your mother’s brow furrowed, as she looked at you with a mother’s instinctive fear. “No, we need to take you to the hospital. You need to be checked out, Y/N. You’re hurt—”

“No!” you snapped, the force of your voice startling both of you, desperation in your tone, “No hospitals, no police report.”

“Y/N, please. You need help. We have to tell someone—”

Help? No one helped.

“I said no!” you repeated, your voice trembling with an intensity that silenced her. “They won’t help. They’ll just ask questions, questions I can’t answer. They won’t understand, Mom. No one will.”

“But, Y/N—”

“I don’t need a doctor. I don’t need the police. I just need to go home. Please, Mom… just take me home.” Your breath came faster, panic rising in your chest as the thought of being in a hospital, of facing the police and their endless probing, became unbearable.

Her face crumpled with worry, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly as if trying to shield you from whatever had hurt you.

Slowly, she nodded, though her worry was still palpable. “Okay. Okay, we’ll go home. But promise me… promise me that if you need help, you’ll let me know. Just… don’t shut me out.”

You nodded, but the motion felt distant, like it didn’t quite belong to you. “I promise,” you whispered, though even as the words left your mouth, they felt empty, a hollow reassurance to ease her fears.

× × × ×

The rain poured down like icy needles, but you barely felt it through your black raincoat. Across the street, through the glowing window, Steve and Peggy danced together, they danced together like a well-rehearsed melody, a song you had once known by heart but now could only hear as a distant echo. Their connection was a knife, twisting in the hollowed-out space where your heart used to be.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms as you stood there, seething. Every drop of rain that pelted against your coat felt like a reminder of the cold, hard truth—you had been replaced. Forgotten. Left to rot in the streets while he found comfort in another’s arms.

Your anger simmered, bubbling up from the depths of your chest. You had been willing to fight for him, to stand by his side no matter what. But what had that loyalty gotten you? Abandonment. Betrayal? And now, as you watched them dance, that anger solidified into something colder, harder.

“Y/L/N.” a deep commanding voice called your name.

Two officials stood in the shadows, their presence barely registering as you finally tore your gaze away from the window. They weren’t there for the party—they were there for you. Without a word, you pushed past them and joined their side.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #captain america x y/n #captain america x reader #captain america imagines #captain america fanfiction #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #steve rogers angst #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x you

258 notes · View notes

fbfh · 1 year

Text

Sweet Pea x soft!reader hcs

wc: 1.3k

genre: mutual pining, tooth rotting fluff

pairing: sweet pea x soft reader

warnings: reader is implied to be smaller than sweet pea but he's like 6'3 and beefy so it's not too out of the question, reader is called clingy needs attention and hates being alone by jughead but sweet pea LOVES that about you, size difference, protective sweet pea, sweet pea is a rottweiler boyfriend, kisses and cuddles, mentions of fighting and gang activity

song recs: fight for me - heathers obc, big boy - sza

a/n: been watching the anime my love story and it's feuling my sweet pea obsession lol. I've also decided that while horribly bad, riverdale is camp. If I convince myself it's camp I can drag myself through it. It's supposed to be bad and make no sense and of course there's a "goblin king" running around town causing problems because it's camp.

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280

Okay so like I said in my initial drabble

When Sweet Pea first sees you he deadass thinks you’re an angel

You are so sweet and soft and perfect

The only way to describe you is angelic

He’s so wrapped up in how alluring and enamoring you are that he doesn’t notice you’re just as drawn to him

You immediately see past his gorgeous and intimidating exterior to the soft great big heart inside him

You see all his good traits and you’re not scared off that he’s a little rough around the edges

But Sweet Pea sees that you’re not rough around the edges

And he doesn’t want you to become that way

Especially not because of him

He feels so protective over you from day one

Even though he’s fighting his obvious feelings for you and ignoring your obvious feelings for him, he still tries to look out for you

Keeps an eye on you a little, just to make sure no one’s giving you any trouble

You’re friends with Betty so you’re sort of tied to the serpents already, but he doesn’t want to drag you any deeper into gang life than you already are

So he tries not to fall any harder for you than he already has

Even though Jughead is always bringing you up, telling him that Betty says you’ve been asking after him

He can’t even process that Jughead just said you’ve been asking after him and about him a lot because of how Jughead keeps describing you

He says you’re sort of clingy and need a lot of attention, that you get nervous in crowds and you’re really touchy and hate being alone

That’s why your last boyfriend broke up with you

But the more Jughead talks about you and your apparent flaws, the more perfect you sound to Sweet Pea

You’re exactly what he’s been dreaming of

Someone he can go all in with, someone who wants him and needs him as much as he wants you and needs you

Which is obviously a lot

And now it’s getting harder and harder to listen to that logical voice that tells him he’s no good for you, that you deserve someone from northside who can take good care of you and not drag you into any more chaos than you’re already surrounded by

But you’ve been writing his name in your diary over and over for weeks now, and it’s really just a matter of time before you end up together

All your friends know this

Betty and Jughead and Toni know this

Even Fangs knows this

Everyone knows but you and Sweet Pea

You both still think it’s an unreciprocated pipe dream

Something to imagine scenarios about before you fall asleep

You’re more alike than you realize

But soon you find your way to each other

You just can’t stay away anymore

And once you’re together, once you’re finally in his arms, neither of you ever want to let go

Sweet Pea is an amazing boyfriend to begin with

But especially when it comes to someone as soft and sweet and precious as you?????

He’s literally the best person you could ever hope for

He’s a classic rottweiler boyfriend

AND he’s a gang boyfriend

Plus Sweet Pea’s just naturally a very protective person to the people he loves

So you can guarantee you’ll be safe with him

He won’t hesitate to stare down anyone he thinks looks at you too long

But he’s not going to start shit with you around unless he has to

If he does need to fight someone, he’s going to make sure you’re not there to see it

Even if he has to ask Betty or Veronica or Fangs to drag you into the other room and stay with you until it’s over

He doesn’t want you to see him like that

But he knows how to hold his own, and Fangs and Toni both reassure you there’s not a fight he hasn’t been able to walk away from

You’re always there to patch him up afterwards too

You touch him so gently

With more love and care and tenderness than he’s ever gotten from anyone before

It makes it kind of impossible to regret sticking up for you

Even if he did walk away with some nasty scratches and a black eye

You’re still not scared of him

You don’t judge him

Like at all

He always makes you feel so safe around him

All he’s wanted for a while is someone to go all in with

Someone to protect, someone to take care of

Someone who needs him

And you do

You spend more and more nights together before finally confessing that you can’t really sleep without him anymore

When I tell you his heart explodes when you say that?????

God as if you couldn’t get him wrapped even tighter around your finger

Surprise! Yes you can

He dips you a lot too

Mostly because he’s so tall and it’s so easy and it makes you so nervous when he pulls you close and leans over you like that

It makes you all dizzy and he talks so close to your face for a few moments before finally kissing you

GOD it makes your head spin

You can’t get enough

And he can’t get enough of the way you look up at him all soft and sweet

Like you’re not scared of him

Which you’re not

It’s still kind of new for him

But it’s something he really hopes he can get used to

He’s touchy too

He pulls you into his lap and rests his head on your shoulder a lot

Or wraps his arms around yours

Don’t even get me started on holding his big old hands with both of yours

It makes his stomach flip every single time

And SO MANY FOREHEAD KISSES

You kiss his neck and jaw a lot too

Mostly because it’s all you can reach half the time

And because you know it drives him completely crazy

If you ever worried about getting unwanted attention from guys, you don’t have to anymore

EVERYBODY knows you’re Sweet Pea’s

And EVERYBODY knows not to fuck with him

Sweet Pea can be fucking terrifying when he wants to

Which makes things like him pinning you to the couch and tickling you until you tap out and you’re both blushing giggly wrecks even cuter

You completely and totally have scary boyfriend privileges

And you take such good care of him too

He really doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy and content and at peace

His friends can easily attest to the fact that they’ve never seen him this happy either

And your friends have never seen you this happy too

Over all, you’re really just a fantastic match

You become the emotional support couple of riverdale high so fast

People get used to seeing him walk you to classes he doesn’t even have

Seeing you ride around town on the back of his motorcycle together

Because you belong together

You really do

Sweet Pea might not know what the future is going to look like

He might not know what’s going to happen tomorrow

But the only thing he does know about his future is that you’re going to be in it

And he’s going to be in yours

You’re starting to make him dream about a soft domestic life away from gangs and murder and conspiracies

He doesn’t know if that’s practical or attainable, but he hopes it is

Until then, he’s more than happy just getting to be around you

Getting to see you all the time and wake up next to each other on the weekends

He loves loving you, he loves keeping you safe and happy

Just like you love him and keep him happier than he’s ever been

Just being with you is more than enough

#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea headcanons #riverdale #riverdale x reader #riverdale headcanons #I want sweet pea to manhandle me tbh

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noyaspeach · 1 year

Text

first light

Summary: Could this be how every day begins?

After a long and restless night with no sleep, you go looking for something to while away the hours. As it turns out, Astarion is just as much of an insomniac as you are, and the two of you spend the early morning together.

Pairing: Astarion x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 4,334

Tags: Fluff and Light Angst, Pining, Feelings Realization (Kinda?), Second Person POV, Soft Astarion, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Insomnia, Watching the Sunrise

Author's Note:

not me returning to fic-writing over 3 years later with an astarion fic of all things. i can't even guarantee i'll write another one considering i'm about to start college again, but i would sure like to!

i was heavily inspired to write this because of the release of hozier's album. it perfectly aligned with me becoming obsessed with baldur's gate 3, and astarion is just so hozier-coded, how could i not? as the title suggests, i was inspired by the song "first light" which is the last song on the album, based on dante's ascent out of hell and his first taste of light and freedom. i imagine it's how astarion must have felt when he was no longer forced to do cazador's bidding and when he could finally experience sunlight again.

obligatory disclaimers: i haven't actually played the game yet, so this fic is informed by clips i've seen online, gif sets, the baldur's gate wiki, and other fics. if any details in this aren't chronologically sound or if anything seems a little non-compliant with the canon of the game... now you know why lol.

still, i hope you enjoy it! this is also posted to ao3! read here!

///

You stare up at the ceiling of your tent, frustration rolling in your chest as you struggle to rest. Your eyes are beginning to sting with the lack of sleep, but simply closing them does nothing to help. You’ve gone through all of your belongings twice already, looking for something to ease you into slumber, but no amount of reading or alcohol seems to do the trick. It certainly doesn’t help that the weather has been oppressively humid all night, leaving you coated in a thin, sticky layer of sweat that doesn’t seem to leave you no matter how many layers you shed.

You can’t bear to lay around in the thick air of your tent, so you decide to sit out by the extinguished campfire in the hopes that it will do more to relax you.

You quietly open your tent flap and emerge into the mild morning air. It’s much cooler outside, and a light breeze tickles your arm, already doing wonders to dry your sweat. It’s still too early for daylight, so the camp is only dimly illuminated by the moonlight. With the lack of light, you listen out for the sounds of the forest around you: the chirps of insects beneath you, hooting owls in the distance, and a trickling stream not too far away. Focusing on these scarce sounds, you already feel much calmer.

After a moment of peace, you hear a rustle to your right. You whip your head toward the sound, hands ready at your weapon, when you see a familiar face emerge from the trees. You let your hands drop to your side again. It’s just Astarion. He appears to be returning to his tent, noticeably empty-handed. You wonder what he’s up to this early in the morning, and he seems to be wondering the same thing, eyeing you with an inquisitive raise of the eyebrow.

“Restless sleeper, are we?” He remarks.

“Something like that,” you reply. “Just needed some fresh air.”

You notice that Astarion is still in his sleepwear, the sleeves of his white undershirt pushed up above his elbows. “And what are you doing out?”

“Oh, you know. Searching for a midnight snack, so to speak.” He gestures to the woods behind him. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a very fine selection tonight.”

You grimace at the thought of Astarion catching an innocent woodland creature between his teeth. It’s a less-than-flattering image, one that’s informed by the memory of the boar he drained a while back, and one that you’re eager to dismiss.

“Is that all you’ve been up to?” You ask.

“Why? Were you getting lonely without me?” He teases. You can only roll your eyes in response. When he doesn’t receive a retort, Astarion sighs and continues. “Right, if you want an honest answer, I was going for a stroll to pass the time.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Wandering about on your own while everyone’s asleep isn’t a very good idea. If something happens out there, none of us will be able to save you”

“Trust me, darling, I can hold my own just fine. But I appreciate you worrying about my safety. It’s almost touching.” He smirks. “I would appreciate it even more if you would refrain from telling the others about my… routine here. I don’t exactly want the company.”

“Routine? How long have you been taking these walks?”

“Since the day I joined you all, I would say.” Astarion’s eyes move to the entrance of his own tent. “I haven’t been able to get much sleep myself, and I figure there isn’t much use laying on my bedroll if I’m not resting or satisfying… other needs. So, I walk. And occasionally feed.”

You search Astarion’s face for any sign of deception, but he’s being surprisingly truthful, if a little bashful. You resonate with his sleeplessness, being something of an insomniac yourself. Despite the immense toll your travels have taken on your body, you can’t seem to rest very easily at all, especially when you need it the most. Whether it’s the vivid memories of past battles replaying in your dreams, the smothering climate of whatever campsite you’ve picked out that night, or the relentless wriggling of the tadpole in your head, there’s always something keeping you up.

“I’m surprised I haven’t caught you earlier, then,” you say. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” says Astarion. He smiles, and it seems he means it too. “Well, seeing as neither one of us will be getting to bed anytime soon, would you care to join me?”

You cross your arms. “I thought you would have preferred to be alone.”

“Misery loves company and all. I think I can make an exception for a fellow night owl,” he drawls.

You agree to walk with him then and quietly head in the opposite direction of both tents. You’re sure to bring your weapon with you in the off chance that something—or someone—attacks the two of you. A very small part of you still garners some suspicion for Astarion himself, especially considering that night in which he tried to feed from you while you slept. Perhaps that’s another factor in your insomnia; although you let Astarion drink his fill that night, you can’t be entirely sure he won’t try it again. That he won’t succeed in creeping up on you and draining you completely.

You shiver at the thought, but pass it off as a cold chill from the wind. As the two of you slowly move from the campsite, your surroundings become even quieter. The chirping insects from before are silent now, and the nearby stream is barely a whisper. You can hardly hear either of your footsteps. It’s at once peaceful and unsettling.

After a few short minutes, you’re the first to break the silence. “What do you usually do when you’re out here?”

Astarion thinks for a moment, and hums. “Hmm. Aside from hunting, I suppose I just sit with my thoughts. There isn’t much else to do, is there?”

You nod, but somehow you don’t think being left with one’s own thoughts is particularly relaxing for anyone in your party. You can’t imagine it’s any good for Astarion, especially.

“And what do you think about?”

“So much,” he says. “Plans, mostly. Where our next destination is, where I’ll find my next meal, what I’ll do when we reach Baldur’s Gate, how to get rid of this wretched parasite…”

“Do you ever think about your past?”

Astarion’s gaze is a bit distant until you ask that. He slows his pace and turns to you, looking unusually serious. “I prefer not to.”

He leaves it at that, so you decide not to push further. You only know a little about Astarion’s life before the tadpole entered his mind. You know he’s the spawn of an even more powerful vampire, a master to whom he was a slave for nearly 200 years, and you know he’s lived in the shadows up until now. It isn’t lost on you that this entire adventure is his first taste of freedom in centuries. You understand why he would rather focus on the future. Still, your nagging curiosity makes you desperate for more information about him.

“What about you, my dear?” He returns to his more amused attitude. “What do you do in that tent of yours to pass the time until the morning comes? Don’t tell me if it’s anything naughty… Actually, do.”

You shake your head and suppress a smile as he actually almost earns a laugh from you. “Nothing like that. I normally just try to distract myself until I can hopefully fall back asleep. Read something, sort my wares, hum a tune. Anything to relax.”

“I take it that hasn’t been working for you?”

“No. Not one bit. I’m actually kind of worried it might start affecting my performance from now on. Unlike some of the elves in this team, I actually need quite a lot of rest.”

“A true shame,” he tuts. “Although it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t need to sleep for very long. On the other, I can’t sleep for very long. Sometimes I do wish I could simply let the whole day pass while I doze off. That would be much easier than just waiting it out.”

You hadn’t considered this. While the rest of your traveling companions are able to sleep through the night, Astarion has no choice but to wait for everyone to wake up around sunrise. All he can do is hope to get a few hours of rest before sitting through the unnerving silence of the night, the only unique sounds being the faint snores and mumbles that float from the other tents. You and he are alike in this struggle, but you at least are lucky enough to have a few nights when your exhaustion is bad enough to force you to bed.

“Well, taking a stroll like this is a good idea,” you finally say. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Astarion’s lips. “Thank you for joining me. I will admit, it’s easier to pass the time with a… friend… by my side.”

Your heart swells at that word: “friend.” It’s a welcome upgrade from whatever you two might have been considered before.

A few minutes pass with the both of you chatting politely. As you walk, you make note of your surroundings to ensure that you don’t stray too far from camp or encounter any traps. This occupies your mind for a while, but Astarion seems to be running out of topics to discuss. Not wanting him to abandon your little trip just yet, you try to think of something to entertain him. Looking out at the forest and the sky in front of you, you notice that the moon has begun its descent into the trees, meaning morning is almost upon you two. This gives you an idea.

You stop and pivot to face Astarion. He stops too, surprised at your sudden pause.

“What is it?” He asks.

"Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

He’s taken aback only momentarily before he adopts his familiar flirtatious demeanor. “Trying to turn this into a romantic tryst, are you? If you want something more, you’ll have to be a little more direct than that.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t mean anything by it. I want to know if you’ll sit and watch the sun come up with me. That’s all. It should be rising soon enough. It’s almost morning.”

He seems puzzled, his brows tightening and eyes scanning your face for any indication that you may be holding something back. When he doesn’t find anything, he settles back into an easy expression. “I seem to have misjudged. My apologies… Yes, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.”

“Great.” You smile and begin to walk again. “I heard some water earlier, so I think there may be a stream near here. Maybe it’ll make for a nice spot.”

Astarion follows as you lead him closer to the sound of running water, and the two of you shortly come upon the stream. It’s a small, shallow brook that separates the woods from which you emerge and another expanse of trees on the other side. Right along the edge of the water is a line of smooth rocks big enough to sit on. It’s the perfect place to set up, you think.

The two of you find purchase on the edge of the rocks, feet just barely dangling off the side, hovering above the calmly flowing water. The rocks aren’t terribly big, so the two of you sit side-by-side, your knees close enough to touch. Across the brook, the trees begin to thin out, leaving a clear view of the horizon. You estimate that the sun will start its ascent in the next few minutes, but for now, the scene in front of you remains thinly bathed in moonlight.

In the quiet of the dawn, the moon casts its silvery glow on the world beneath it. Every blade of grass, every dewy flower, every mossy stone radiates with a hazy blue hue. The stream beneath you reflects this onto both of your faces, and you give a sideways glance to your companion next to you. You watch as the light dances across his cheeks, admiring how it shines in his curls, how it glistens in his deep red eyes, and how it collects in the space just above his lips. You inhale and the earthy scent of the forest mixes with the smell of Astarion’s perfume in your nose. As you do so, you realize now just how close in proximity you are to him. You’re close enough to trace his silhouette from the slope of his nose to his slender neck with your fingers if you so choose. You glimpse at the puncture marks just below his jaw and remember once more the night you let him drink from you. You remember the moment you awoke in terror before you realized who was crouched above you. You remember the uncertainty you felt as you gave him permission to continue, not sure whether it was a wise decision or not. You remember the sharp sting of his teeth entering your skin and the almost exhilarating dizziness that followed as he coaxed your blood out with his tongue. The rest of that moment is a blur to you, but you can still distinctly recall how he cradled your head with one hand, the other gently ghosting down your spine. For almost a full day after that night, the smell of bergamot and rosemary lingered on your neck.

“You do know staring is rude, don’t you, darling?” Astarion says. “Not that I particularly mind.” He leans back on his arms and turns to face you. “Not when it’s you.”

Your cheeks flush in spite of the cool temperature. You wonder when it was you became so vulnerable to Astarion’s flirting. Even though you have, you try not to entertain it. After all, you suspect his charming behavior is at least partly a ruse.

“Sorry,” you mutter and look back at the horizon. “It’s very pretty out. It’ll be even prettier in just a few more minutes, too. We’re in the perfect spot to watch the sun come up.”

“Is that so?” Astarion tilts his head as he continues to behold you. “You know, I’ve never watched the sunrise like this.”

You twist to look at him again, utterly shocked. “Seriously? Not once?”

He shakes his head.

“How come?”

He sighs. “I’m sure I must have before… everything. But I can’t seem to remember anything from back then. I lost most of my memories when I was brought back, save for a few of the important details. I suppose sunrises weren’t important enough to stick.” He frowns and stares out at a canopy of trees in the distance. “Then, as you know, it would have been incredibly stupid for me to be out in the light with this condition of mine. So, I never tried. I didn’t have very many opportunities to do so, in any case.”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you let Astarion continue at his own pace.

“...I spent decades in my master’s lair, a- a dungeon, really. I was trapped in the darkness. The only time I was allowed out was when he needed fresh, new bodies, and even then it was always under the cover of night. For the longest time, that was all that I knew. In a way, it’s what I’m still used to…”

Suddenly his sleeplessness makes all the more sense to you.

“I know I’m free from that now, what with the tadpole and all, but…” He trails off. You understand.

After several beats of silence, you clear your throat.

“Once, when I was a child, I went playing in the woods with some of the other children in the village. There were maybe six of us in total? I don’t exactly remember. But we marched all the way from the market to the forest pretending we were a band of heroes. I was at the back of the line, right behind this boy that I really liked. I put myself there on purpose so that I could smile and blush as much as I wanted without him seeing me.”

“How cute,” Astarion comments with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I was being clever, but it was pretty silly, wasn’t it? Anyways, when we entered the woods, we decided to split off into teams to see who could find the most ‘treasure.’ We just plucked up sticks, flowers, beetles, pinecones, that kind of stuff. I was paired with the boy I liked, and I was so giddy about it. I wanted to show him just how cool I was, so I climbed up every tree and jumped off every rock. Just hearing him laugh and clap for me was enough for me to keep going. So, I did. Before we knew it, we realized we had strayed too far from the rest of the group. We tried to call out to them but heard nothing in return. We were lost.”

You pause your story to get a brief look at Astarion. You half-expect him to be bored by this point, but you’re surprised to see that he’s giving you his full attention. He waves his hand, signaling for you to continue.

“We started playing late into the evening, so by the time we realized that we had no clue where we were, the sun had already begun to set. I remember cursing myself for wishing I could have some alone time with this boy because that wasn’t at all what I had had in mind. But, alas, that was the situation I was stuck in. When it reached midnight and we still hadn’t made our way back to the village, I started panicking. You should know that I used to be deathly afraid of the forest at night. I was terrified of what kind of creatures could be hiding, waiting to snatch me up and eat me alive.”

“Hmm, like vampires?” Astarion teases.

You smirk. “Precisely. You’ll remember, though, that I was stuck with the boy I liked. So, there was no way I could show that I was scared. I couldn’t display any sign of weakness or else he might not think I was as cool as I let off. Knowing this, I put on a brave face and silently begged the gods for some protection before I assembled a makeshift camp for the two of us. It was, admittedly, very shitty, but it did its job of giving us some shelter for the night. I told him he could sleep and that I would keep watch, and so I did. I didn’t sleep very much back then, either, now that I think about it. I guess not a lot has changed about me… But I digress. I stayed up the whole night, sitting outside our little fort, listening to him snore and talk in his sleep. I don’t think I could have left his side if I wanted to, considering how petrified I was. But I powered through the fear, for his sake. I was so young, but I cared about this boy so much that I felt I owed it to him to make sure he was safe.”

“You were quite the hero, even back then,” Astarion says gently. “Is this little story your way of telling me to be more selfless?”

“Not at all. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I sat there for hours as I waited for it to become day again. Eventually, I was able to focus on the more beautiful parts of the night: the moon, the stars, the lightning bugs, the sweet whisper of the wind through the leaves. The more I searched for the good in my situation, the less scared I became, until I was no longer scared at all. By the time dawn rolled around, I was at peace, actually. I was so proud of myself for making it through the night, I immediately woke the boy up to share the moment with him. Then, we sat together, kind of like this,” You gesture to your and Astarion’s seating position, “and just watched the sunrise in perfect silence. I had never watched the sunrise before. It was so nice, getting to quietly enjoy such a wonderful view with someone I loved.”

As you finish your story, you face Astarion once more. His gaze is soft as he listens to you speak, and the tender curl of his lips betrays a sincere gratitude for having shared this with him.

“Did anything ever happen between you and that boy?” He asks.

“Sadly, no. He eventually fell for some other girl in town. Last I heard, they had three kids together.”

“Hmm.” Astarion angles his chin away from you. “Well, that’s his loss.”

You look away, too, and smile to yourself.

Suddenly, the sky begins to transform before your eyes. The first gleams of sunlight begin to caress the horizon as the moon takes its final bow behind you. The forest, still coated with all the glimmering remnants of morning dew, stirs from its slumber under the streams of the emerging sun. As the sun slowly rises, its warm embrace spreads like honey between the trees, flooding the forest floor with rays of pink and amber. Shafts of light pierce through the lush foliage, creating scintillating patterns on the surface of the water that seem to dance at the promise of a new day. Finally, when the sun peers at you from above the treetops, it’s as if the sky erupts. A burst of brilliance envelopes the world below it in its welcoming embrace, casting everything in a blazing golden light.

You begin to say something to Astarion but stop when you see his face. He looks positively radiant. His face glows in the daylight, appearing even more magnificent than he did in the moon’s silver beams. His face and his hair are colored by the sun, making him look more alive than he ever has before. Every detail from the strands in his eyebrows to the smallest of moles is illuminated before you. You watch as his eyes glisten before softly fluttering closed. He breathes deeply, his chest slowly rising and falling, and he basks in the sunlight. He relaxes completely, letting the sun’s rays melt away any and all tension he may have been holding on to.

You want nothing more than to cup his face in your hands, then, and feel the newly imbued warmth of his skin as you press your lips to his. Instead, however, you carefully place your hand on top of his. His eyes blink open and he turns to look at you once more. You hesitate for a moment, ready to move away, but he doesn’t reject you. His eyes crinkle with appreciation and he laces your fingers together before gently stroking his thumb against the side of your hand. His skin is still a bit cold, but thanks to you, it quickly warms up.

The two of you sit there in tranquility, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and feelings of the early morning. Time seems to slow, then, as if the universe itself also wishes to savor this serene moment for just a little while longer.

Soon, you hear the distant sound of casual conversation as the others awaken for yet another day of arduous traveling. You sigh, knowing that the two of you will have to return to camp shortly and leave all of this behind. You don’t want to let go just yet.

“We should probably get back,” Astarion says first. “I wouldn’t want the others to think that I killed you and scurried off or something like that.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be very good for morale,” you joke. After a moment, you reluctantly untwine your fingers and push yourself up off the rocks. You extend a hand to Astarion to help him up, which he graciously accepts.

Neither of you moves at first until Astarion takes a step toward you. Standing so close to you, you wonder if he’s about to kiss you when he gingerly takes hold of your hands. He gives you that sincere smile again.

“Thank you again for this. It was… nice.” You almost can’t believe how vulnerable he seems right now, eyes staring into yours with no hint of false pretenses. “I’d like to do this again with you, if you’ll join me.”

“I would love to.”

“Wonderful,” he says. He lets go of you. “Shall we then?”

The two of you take your time walking back to the campsite, talking idly about what the next few days have in store. When you arrive, Karlach is the first to notice you.

“There you two are! We were beginning to worry.” She looks between you both and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “Anything we should know about your disappearance?”

You chuckle. “Nothing that would excite you, Karlach.”

You walk past her and approach your tent. The rest of your team is already getting to work cleaning their weapons, armor, and other equipment, preparing to hunt, or strategizing together. Before you duck inside to retrieve your clothes for washing, you turn back and lock eyes with Astarion. He’s entered a conversation between Shadowheart and Gale, but he isn’t all that engaged. He shoots you a knowing look and another small smile which you return in kind.

As you wash your clothes in the river just south of the camp, you think fondly of the promise you’ve now made with Astarion and the many sunrises to come. Suddenly, insomnia doesn’t seem so bad.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion baldur's gate #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #i want to give astarion so much love pls

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katsudonn · 4 months

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About you

[Katsuki bakugo x Reader]

Inspired to the song About you

!Story is Angst to fluff!

Synopsis: You were excited to reveal the news to your husband katsuki after 5 years of marriage just to receive news that he got hit by a memory quirk.

⚠️ warnings⚠️

Grammatical errors, wrong spelling, Angst, the story is a bit of an open ending, I made it Angst to fluff cause my heart couldn't take full Angst right now.

You waited for the day to end excited to give the box you've been working onto for the whole week to katsuki. You did your very best to hid the pregnancy test and not be suspicious cause you want to make it a special surprise to him. You also made a meal, his favorite spicy ramen. The day officially ended its currently 7 pm and he's still not yet home. You thought he was just having another overtime at work since being top pro hero is a hassle for him.

You're getting anxious since katsuki still hasn't knocked, he should be home by now since it's already 9 Pm in night now.

Your phone rang, you were excited to hear katsuki is on his way home, but when you picked your phone up turns out it's Mina whose calling you. You're quite disappointed but still picked the call up either way.

"Hey girl, how are you?" You heard the pink haired through the phone.

"I'm just waiting for katsuki, you know the surprise I've been working the whole," you replied happily.

"Yeah" Mina replied lowly in the other end of the phone. "Babe, katsuki need you right now."

Your heart dropped, what could possibly happen to your lover? You hurriedly put your winter coat on and picked your keys up to drive your way to the hospital.

"I'll be on my way Mina, send me the location."

After minutes of driving you finally arrived at the hospital, you ran to his room. You opened the door meeting kirishima's whose just about to leave, him seeing your worried look and state, "We'll help you fix this [y/n], I'll go on patrol now," he pats your head and leaves.

You saw katsuki with minimal bruise and talking to his other friends and a doctor on his side asking him questions. You ran to him and hugged his back, he was caught off guard by your presence. "You dummy, you always gets me worried," you said crying onto his back.

"Hey ma'am are you a relative of dynamight?" The doctor asked. "Yeah, I'm his wife," you responded looking at katsuki's confused look. "I have a wife?" Katsuki asked which made you looked confused aswell, it made your heart ache of what he have said.

"Ma'am, let's talk outside for now," the doctor said leading you outside still confused of what is happening. "As you can see dynamight is out to capture a villain, but due to its quirk he had lost some of his memories, the memories lost is still not sure but I think you're one of it. He could still remember all of his friends but you ma'am." He explained patting your shoulder.

Still flabbergasted of what the doctor have said, "that's impossible, how could this happen?" As tears slowly forming in your eyes. "Since it's just a quirk maybe we could still fix this, but we wouldn't guarantee, all you can do is help him remember atleast Ma'am." You heart aches more and clutch onto your stomach.

Still on tears when Mina approaches you and hugged you, your body felt weak and lean onto mina's hug. "How can I tell him I'm pregnant if he wouldn't even remember he has a wife?" You said while sobbing. "Babe, it's okay we'll find a way, we'll help him remember you." Mina hugged you tightly as she fight her tears away.

Mina knows how katsuki love you so much and how nice person you are, their hearts broke also knowing that he only forgotten about you. It's must be something about this villains quirk. Mina is doing her best to comfort and calm you down since you're pregnant and it's your first trimester so the baby is in sensitive state. She's worried of how your pregnancy will go in this kind of problem your facing.

"Katsuki said his heart calmed down when you entered the room for some reason, maybe there's still chance [y/n]" mina assured you wiping your tears away. "Let's go see katsuki, maybe he'll recall some," mina held your hand leading you to the room. Your swollen red eyes is still visible, some of his classmates left, telling you to be strong and they have to go for now.

"H-hey kats..." you tried to speak up only some few steps away from him. You looked at him trying your best to smile to not worry him any longer. "Do you remember me?" You asked in a low voice.

Katsuki looks at your state, his heart shrunk seeing you said for some reason, his instinct wants to hug you and comfort you "I'm sorry, I don't," he replied.

Your heart couldn't take what's happening today and couldn't let your voice out or speak to him. "But for some reason I don't like seeing you crying," he said looking at the bed sheets avoiding your gaze. "I'll try my best to recall everything, don't worry."

Somehow your heart calmed a bit from his words, your husband katsuki is still the same after all, he just forgotten about you. But hearing him say he'll try makes you believe that your family could still be back. You gave him a warm smile wiping your tears away "then we'll wait for you kats."

Katsuki heart warmed down aswell seeing you happy. He couldn't respond and just nod at your respons.

Few hours had passed of you and katsuki talking at helping him recover, "Hey, it's late do you want me to drive you home?" Kaminari said. "Ah, yeah.. I guess it's late, I'll visit you tomorrow kats" you said and lean to give him a kiss on his cheek. As much as you want to peck his lips, you think it'd weird him out.

Bakugo did not push your actions away and just gave into it, he knew the pain your into right now. "Okay drive safely," he added seeing your small frame leaving the room with kaminari. "I'll take care of her bro, see ya," kaminari waved at katsuki leaving.

You and kaminari finally arrived in your home "Hey, stay strong we'll figure this out," he pats your shoulder. "Thanks, drive safely also," you went out of his car and wave as goodbye to him.

You went inside your shared home with katsuki, everything still hasn't sink into you, looking at your wedding photos in the hallway praying that this wouldn't be the end of your marriage and soon to be family. You can't help but cry and be worried to not get your baby's development in critical. You just sleep your tears away too tired for the day.

Days had passed, you visited katsuki every day to check any progress, its taking slow but you always prayed for his memory recovery, you still haven't told him your surprise yet. You Don't even know when will you have the chance to tell him, will be happy if he knew it? Will he accept it now in his current state?

Katsuki finally got discharge from the hospital and the doctor recommended for him to stay at home for more chance of recovering his memories. "This is the house you and I designed with the help of your dad," you said opening the doorknob. He just follow through inside seeing the photos of your wedding in the walls, photos of your dates, engagement proposal in the shelf. It just feels home here, even seeing your frame felt like home to him.

Even without his memories he can feel how safe he is with you, which even eagers him to recover faster. He felt his head ache upon seeing your home, "Hey are you okay?" You asked worried. "Yeah, just maybe some is sinking in me," he assured you.

"You designed this kitchen cause you love to cook, you often cook meals even if you're tired with work," you chuckled looking in the kitchen. "You always told me cause I like it extra special for you," he smiled of what you have said, happy that he does his hobby and is a good husband to you.

"You also insist putting orange accent in our house since it's your favorite color," you said pointing out the orange designs. "You also said you'd want our future kids room to be orange," you chuckled to those memories. He also laughed hearing it really reminds of him, everything you just said is very him. "Damn right, I also want them wearing my custom hero suit," he respond grabbing your waist.

Your shocked of his sudden actions but just gave into the moment, maybe he's really trying his best to fix this. "I'll just go to the bathroom, I'll be back" you said and went to the bathroom.

Katsuki room freely around the house and found a orange box with a cute ribbon wrapped around it. He got curious on what could be inside of it, maybe some old photos or collection? Maybe it could help him regain his memories. He opened the box revealing 2 pregnancy test and a photo of ultra sound, his eyes widened seeing the whole box. It also has a note in the lid "We're coming soon dad" he can't help but cry seeing the whole thing, it also includes one baby clothes whose color is orange and a hand written letter by you.

You just finished going in the bathroom and went around the house to find katsuki, you found him in the room crying? "Hey, kats what are you looking at.." As your voice kept on getting lower and lower, seeing him crying over your soon to be surprise to him. You can't help but cry also, "that was supposed to be my surprise the day you lost your memories," you said wiping your tears away.

"I wonder if it's a girl or a boy," he said chuckling holding onto the baby clothes with a "baby dynamight" design on it. Your eyes lighten up seeing him so happy with your surprise for him. "You always told me you'd want to have a boy so you could train him to be strong like you, either way even if it's a girl you know she'd be as strong like you," you said walking to his side.

He hugged you tightly tears still streaming in his face, he couldn't help it, deep inside him felt so full and happy seeing the box. "Wait for me,I'll figure this out," he said circling his hands in your back. "You better be," you said hugging him back.

The night ended better than you expected, you showed him the photo album of his collection photos. He got his photograph habbit from his mom, he would secretly take you pictures and put it in the album, and photos of you together, anytime and anywhere as long as he feels like it.

He can't help but smile thinking he's so lucky marrying a kind of woman like you, he wonders what he did in life to even get you to marry him? You can see him try to recall each picture and memories you tell him, being patient and praying for his fast recovery.

I'd recommend you to play the music About you by The 1975 here:

Months had passed, you would invite him to the places he'd often bring you for hopes of triggering his memories. The villain is also being investigated on how to reverse his quirk, but to no avail he wouldn't talk and would just often laugh and say "that dynamight deserve to lose everything special to him." Katsuki wanted to blow the person up, but there's a thick glass in between them. "You fucker ruining everyones family!? Dammit my wife and kid need me you fucking villain!" He exclaimed punching through the glass.

"You fucking deserve it dynamight, you also once caught my kid, here is my small gift to you, and that memory of yours will forever poof" the villain laughed through the other side. Bakugo is about to blow up the whole place due to his anger but his teacher came into place and place him his hand onto his shoulder. "Calm down, there's still other way," aizawa said as you're face so happy flashed into his face and calmed himself up. "Rot in hell Fucker," he said one last time.

Everything felt like the first time meeting katsuki, you felt sad about it but also feel so happy seeing him try and accepted the fact of your soon to be born kid. He would be present in your ultra sounds, seeing his eyes light up looking in the monitor holding your hands so firm.

He still gave you the same love, katsuki grew attached to you even if his memories with you is just from the past few months. He would sometimes talk about what his kid will be, if it's a boy will if look exactly like him? You wished. If it's a girl will it replicate your looks? He wished.

He would do the same exact things you told him he always do for you, such as cooking you meal everytime. He also designed the room of your soon to be kid with an accent of orange on it and a logo of his "baby dynamight."

He just didn't tell you that he's slowly regaining some of his memories by himself and with Eri's quirk helping him reverse the quirk used in him. He would sometimes secretly laugh in your stories making him look that "he's such a nice guy" and "he always love kids on your dating years" how you fabricate some of his traits. Your trying to make his memories nice.

He would do the things you like and love, such as him buying you sunflowers and tulips cause it's your favorites, he'd say he asked his friends and just wanted to do someth nice to you.

He couldn't help but be happy spending time to with you telling him stories of your life together, he wished he could stay in this moment forever with you and his Lil family. You're also happy how your soon to be family is slowly forming. His mother Mitsuki would sometimes asked how are you and the baby doing, wishing you a Goodluck on his son's recovery.

It's your fifth month in pregnancy, you belly is getting heavier and bigger, but katsuki would still complement that you're so fucking gorgeous and encourage you. You planned a date and gender reveal with him, just the two of you.

You went to the same park you both always go and ready a small picnic in it. You ordered a gender reveal cake for a small celebration with your lover. "Okay so we'll both use this glass to cut through the cake and reveal the gender," you explained the mechanics to him happily. "Okay, okay boss" he said patting your head.

You both cut through the cake and seeing a blue and pink? Bakugo saw pink in his side and yours a blue. "I got pink" katsuki said "I got blue" you said. Katsuki eyes widen "it's a twin?" He asked you so confused. "Yeah" you chuckled. "I thought the twins would be boys, but I guess it's both!" You said wiping the minimal tears in your eyes.

He hugged you carefully trying not to hurt you and your belly. "Damn your a super mom" he said rubbing your belly. "I also have something to say, I've also regained all my memories with Eri's help," he said cupping your cheeks. Your eyes also widen and started to cry, "you dummy today was supposed to be my surprise to you," he wiped your tears away. "I'm so happy kats," he smiled and peck your lips. "Me too [y/n]" you kissed him back.

Do you think I have forgotten? (About you)

Thank you for reading till end T^T hope you liked it!! \(♡3♡)/ please tell me what you feel in this story! Love lots dynamight🧡

Sorry again to any grammar and spelling errors I've made :')

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itsnotgray · 10 months

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gray’s fic recs

my tagging/recommendation system is a mess beyond the point of fixing, so i made a masterlist. (i’ll slowly be adding fics to this!)

- an asterisk is next to players who play for the ahl team of said nhl team

- if works focused on more than one person, they’re listed under the other people, but only tagged in the first one you see in the list.

- also, apologies if the links don’t work correctly, it is in fact my first time making a masterlist

NHL/AHL

Anaheim Ducks

Jamie Drysdale

hey roomie by @emaanemaa

- trevor and jamie threesome. that's right, that's all it took to get you to go read it.

Trevor Zegras

chameleon by @hischierhaze

- listen- if you're someone who, whether it be consciously or unconsciously, changes themselves and their personality for those around them, or you have a history of it- please read this. I promise you, you won't regret it.

now that we don't talk by @sc0tters

- it's a toxic relationship with trevor, of course I'm gonna eat it up (she might end with trevor... or she might not. you'll never know if you don't read it.)

hey roomie by @ emaanemaa (fic linked above under jamie)

the penalty box series by @starsandhughes

I- if you're not already keeping up with this series... where have you been? every update is laugh out loud hilarious, and leaves you itching for more.

cruel weather- apart of the penalty box series by @starsandhughes

cruel weather gets it's own link because of the amount of emotional damage this inflicted upon me.

Arizona Coyotes

Boston Bruins

Buffalo Sabres

Devon Levi

like it very much by @jackhues

there aren’t many devon fics (which there totally should be), but the way i squealed when i read this one. further affirmed the fact that i think he’d be the best bf.

Calgary Flames

Nikita Zadorov

that scar hurt by the way by @swissboyhisch

- listen…. i’m the farthest thing from a flames fan, and can wholeheartedly admit it was an adorable read.

Carolina Hurricanes

Chicago Blackhawks

Colorado Avalanche

Columbus Blue Jackets

Adam Fantilli

to you, my adamo by @hischierhaze

- it's adam's birthday + his debut, can you blame me for crying?

his return by @hischierhaze

-this made me cry. but in making this, i'm convinced anything kei writes with the fantilli brothers makes me want to cry from either just how sickeningly sweet it is, or of course, sadness.

tiny dancer au by @letsgetrowdy43

god when i say sunny and adam have my heart- i mean it. they’re sososo special to me.

Dallas Stars

Wyatt Johnston

our song by @lovinbarzal

hands down one of my favorite wy jo fics/au’s. it’s wyatt x a barzal sister, a pairing i wouldn’t have thought of, but works so well!

Detroit Red Wings

Edmonton Oilers

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

waking up in vegas by @doc-pickles

- matty t x hughes!sister is a dynamic i didn’t know i needed.

Mackie Samoskevich*

perfect girl by @dmercer91

- this had me feeling things like no other... a big hint as to why? she's shared.

Los Angeles Kings

Alex Turcotte*

who does it better? by @harry-hollands

one of the cutest social media au’s in a while (technically has two parts, but they don’t have to be read together)

Minnesota Wild

Montreal Canadiens

Kirby Dach

here with you by @sc0tters

- it's amber's writing + kirby, what's not to love? (if that's not convincing enough, maybe the line, "I will follow you to the ends of the earth," is.)

Nashville Predators

New Jersey Devils

Jack Hughes

timeless by @babydollmarauders

- if I hadn't originally read this in the middle of the grocery store, I can almost guarantee that I would've cried from just how heartwarmingly adorable this is.

out by @babydollmarauders

- equipment manager x jacky boy- aka a trope I never knew I needed, but now crave after reading this.

ballad of a homeschooled girl by @babydollmarauders

- hands down one of the best pics I've probably ever read in terms of conveying emotion. my stomach was in knots the entire time, attesting to just how realistic the writing is.

never grow up by @aliaology

- i'm sorry but you're not human if you don't get even the tiniest bit emotional at any fic with "never grow up" as the song. BUT A FIC WITH THE BROTHERS? this rendered me emotionally unavailable for a solid 20 minutes.

medía management au by @babydollmarauders

the media management au is an ongoing series staring mr jack hughes and his lovely girl, dove! the updates always bring a a smile to my face, and more than likely make me laugh out loud.

4:41 am by @sweetestdesire

listen, as much as i adore brynn’s smut like no other, her fluffy, soft and sweet fics just do something to me. she writes them so detailed, and consistently has me craving for soft moments with a significant other (a significant other i do not have)

John Marino

stay for a while by @sc0tters

- when i talk about made me feel things, i mean it. amber never fails in writing panty-dropping smut, while also having an thought-out plot.

Luke Hughes

welcome back by @leaentries

- this literally made me swoon. a protective lukey- what's not to love?

nobody's love by @eyesthatroll

- my heart was in my throat while reading, and my emotions were all over the place. regardless of how emotional it left me, it was amazing and deserves all the love.

never grow up by @ aliaology (fic linked under jack)

- older hughes sister watches her brothers grow up + never grow up = tears

summer aches by @starry-hughes

- this fic makes me want a luke to take care of me when i get headaches, triggered by heat or not

what’s not to like? by @starry-hughes

- queen ellen and jimmy are a little apprehensive of you…

jack’s best friend by @lvrzegras

okay listen- any of the brothers x their best friends is great, but jack’s best friend x luke… it just hits different, yk?

Nico Hischier

I never could've seen you coming (I think you're everything I could've ever wanted) by @writingonleaves

- this is probably as close to a literary masterpiece as a fanfic posted on tumblr will ever get

will you take a moment? promise me this (that you'll stand by me forever) by @writingonleaves

- listen- it's apart of the universe she began in the fic above. I have the fic linked under nico (because the oc eventually ends up in a relationship with nico, as seen in the part above), but this is sososo found family heavy. if found family is your trope, then this is your fic

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal

it's nice to have a friend by @youunravelme

- put me through the emotional wringer in the best way possible.

winnie martin's favorite person by @ilyasorokinn

- god- i cannot even begin to describe how cute this is. all i can say, is that I need more pictures of barzy with kids... for science of course.

New York Rangers

Ottawa Senators

Philadelphia Flyers

Pittsburgh Penguins

Sidney Crosby

she was the (red) devil by @crosbyscurls

- hockey meets f1 is already a dream combination… but sid x f1? absolutely amazing

San Jose Sharks

Seattle Kraken

St Louis Blues

Tampa Bay Lightning

Toronto Maple Leafs

Vancouver Canucks

Quinn Hughes

these michigan summers by @lukevangelista

i feel like the only way your not aware this series exists, then your new here. because if you haven’t read this, where have you been? this is for sure one of my top three series’ on tumblr, finished or unfinished. will in fact, forever have my heart. (currently unfinished)

the sun to my moon by @ghostfacd

this fic is part of an au! i highly, highly recommend checking it out- quinny + a grumpyxsunshine trope, what’s not to love?

never grow up by @ aliaology (fic linked under jack's name)

- older hughes sister watches her brothers grow up + never grow up = tears

Vegas Golden Knights

Washington Capitals

Dylan Strome

it's never too late to come back to my side by @lukevangelista (a series)

- one of my recent favorites. particularly geared towards those who think back on old friendships (...and constantly overthink on whether you should reach out. spoilers- it's never too late)

Winnipeg Jets

NCAA

University of Michigan

Luca Fantilli

missing you, quietly by @bitchinbarzal

- emotional torture in the best way possible. i re-read a concerning amount

i lost him by @hischierhaze

- made me cry- but in a good way

baby 101- name reveal by @hischierhaze

- it's dad!luca... yeah that's right, now that you have that cute thought in your head, you kinda have to go and read it

I tell you that I think im falling back in love with you by @writingonleaves

- this fic is sososo special to me for so many reasons- and I think you should totally read this fic to figure them out... just saying

opposites attract au by @dmercer91

this is a link to the head anons for the au- but please go read this sweet au. luca and landen are one of the sweetest pairings.

Nick Moldenhauer

sundays are for textiles by @drewsbuzzcut

- super cute read, and it's apart of an even cuter au

all american lace by @drewsbuzzcut

- also apart of that super cute nick au she has- but this part was not so cutesy (it was at the end). had me on the edge of my seat, and tears building in my eyes. the type of angst you physically feel- but with the type of ending that makes up for it (trust me, it does!)

Mark Estapa

icy roads by @nicohischierz

the simplest explanation i can offer is that this broke my heart- but i loved it anyway!

Boston College

Gabe Perreault

princess!gf x gabe perreault by @yankstrash

- these two are on my mind at least three times a week. i aspire to become amelia- aka find someone who is as down bad for me as gabe is for “his meels”

460 notes · View notes

hitlikehammers · 7 months

Text

to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)

rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)

this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️

“Oh fuck, not you, too.”

Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—

“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.

“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“

“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—

He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.

That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.

But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.

He swallows anyway; not that it helps.

“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—

“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”

Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.

But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.

“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.

“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.

“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:

Not you.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.

He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.

Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.

“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:

“That you’re here, too.”

And, oh. Okay.

Okay.

They’re here, then. Together.

Here.

___________________

It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.

They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.

For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.

He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?

Who’s gonna fucking know?

Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.

He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.

He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.

He craves this.

He doesn’t know what that fucking means.

But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.

And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.

But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…

Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:

That’s not death.

___________________

Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—

Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.

Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.

He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.

Doesn’t change his question.

Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”

Steve gapes a little.

“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck

“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.

Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:

“Pick your poison.”

And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…

“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:

“Go Fish?”

And Steve, he, like—

This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.

He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…

In a while.

___________________

“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.

“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.

They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.

“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:

“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:

“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.

They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.

“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“

“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.

“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—

Steve likes how they fit.

“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”

Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.

___________________

“You’re really good company.”

Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.

“What?”

Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.

“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”

Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.

“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”

And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:

“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:

“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.

And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:

“Me too, sweetheart.”

And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—

___________________

Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.

He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…

It’s not just his smile.

“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.

“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.

“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—

“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?

Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…

That feels more

___________________

It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.

“You called me big boy.”

Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.

His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.

Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—

“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”

Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.

“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—

“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—

“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.

“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—

“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.

Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.

But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.

“You’re not stupid, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.

“I’m very stupid.”

And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?

And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.

“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:

“About, you know, matters of the heart.”

Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:

“Heart?”

But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:

He thinks he can hear the hope.

“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.

“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—

“And kiss me, you dick.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—

“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.

“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”

Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.

“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?

Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?

Fuck. Fuck.

If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.

___________________

He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.

The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.

Steve fucking hates it.

“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.

“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.

He cannot fucking accept that.

“I don’t want you to die at all.”

Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—

“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—

“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“Maybe we’ll wake up.”

Maybe. Maybe.

“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:

“Kiss me again when we wake up.”

And Steve will, he will, but.

He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.

He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.

So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…

Whatever happens will take them both.

___________________

Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—

“Eddie!”

He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—

And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.

Covers his hands. Presses.

And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—

“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—

There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.

“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:

“That the only reason?”

He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—

Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—

Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:

“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead

in-love, in-love, in-love—

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #falling in love #angst with a happy ending #(also oddly fluffy?)#presumed dead #(but obviously NOT)#happy ending #the black void place with the water on the floor is LIMBO #and they maybe kinda fall for each other in the space between life and death because OF COURSE THEY DO #and these boys are maybe kinda stuck there #steddielovemonth #love is a fire that never goes out #stranger things

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kalki-tarot · 4 months

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Unqiue details about the person on your mind.

This is a general reading and is not guaranteed to be 100% true.

Pick one emoji :)

🌿 🍂 🌻

Pile 01 🌿

They are someone who takes everything seriously, like they are an emotionally sensitive human being and they can't handle "jokes" that demean them or people who make fun of their insecurities.

They cry while watching sad romance movies. 😭

They don't like public attention, they can be an introverted person. Or they just like to keep their achievements to themselves. They don't like public eye because who knows someone may give you an evil eye. 🧿

As I've mentioned in the first point too, they are someone who gets hurt easily, they prefer to be inside their own shell as a mechanism to feel safe. People may have hurted this person a lot with words.

They may have a cold exterior but are definitely very cool on the inside.

They are filled with surprises, evertime you talk to them, you'll find a new thing about them.

They like philosophy, self help, psychology books. They self reflect a lot.

They are a keen observer of people and situations. They have great analytical skills. They know who's bs-ing with whom.

They come from a family/background where they have been emotionally neglected a lot. They don't have a "safe place". They try to understand and validate themselves through reading psychology and self help books.

No matter what, this person is someone very resilient and secure of who they are now.

They are a great humanitarian and they do charity work or they just help people around them financially or emotionally.

They are looking for their soulmate or partner with whom they can share a deep and secure connection with. They are looking for someone long term and are not interested in hook ups etc.

They are very giving in nature and do for others more than for themselves.

Pile 02 🍂

This person likes babies.

They also like slow music and folk music too. They may like listening to Kailash Kher so much.

Their favorite bird is Koyal, idk what you call it in English you can search it online.

They are a traditional person, they value their family and sanskaars.

This person may work with children, can be a pediatrician, child specialist, nanny, caretaker, nursery teacher etc.

This person is a little dramatic, it's like everyone likes them they don't care, but if that one person does not like them, they go mad.

Sorry to say this, but they are a little ungrateful about life.

This person also stays in their mind a lot, they may overthink and create fake scenarios. They can be addicted to being sad ?

They have this tendency to stay stuck in the past, they fear new things, places, people etc. It's hard for to get outside of their comfort zone.

They believe in true love, soulmates etc. And hope to find their own.

It's easy for them to get bored though.

Their past hasn't been the best, they still can't get over their fears and traumas :(

Pile 03 🌻

They like listening to hip hop songs especially the 2000s ones.

This person has a tendency to run away when they feel like things won't go their way.

They may suffer from anxiety or intrusive thoughts.

They may have drinking issues / alcohol abuse is what i see, they get aggressive after drinking.

They may have gambling addictions too.

This person is working hard to overcome these dark obsessions and addictions.

Their father figure had some problems (can be abusive) hence they and their mother suffered a lot in their childhood. Their addictions stem from here.

They may not really like talking about their past sm, it hurts them.

Surprisingly, the song "chupke chupke raat din" is playing and it translates into smth like "I remember crying silently/while hiding."

Very heavy past traumas and issues.

They may show everyone this cool and calm demeanor but from inside they are literally hurting and fighting with themselves. Omg, i feel so sad for this person :(

They may like listening to ghazals a lot.

Bangladesh & Nepal is significant.

They have seen relationships break and turn out worse in their childhood so now they run away or fear commitments and marriage.

Or it can also be that the person they once loved feared marriage or commitment and it made them fall deeper into addictions.

They see marriage as a cage.

This person has emotionally given up on a lot of things in life like career, emotions etc.

They neglect themselves sometimes.

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staypuffy · 1 year

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Okay, so I know prefacing something with "hear me out" virtually guarantees that not one motherfucker will, but, heart me out...

Jim was default Gabriel. He was Gabriel without all the corruption and pressure and complacency he had from being the Supreme Archangel of Heaven for so many years. When he takes away all his own memories, the things that led to this corrupt person we know from season 1, we're left with the basic blueprint of his personality and that's this: just a nice guy. He was helpful, apologetic, thoughtful, kind and even self-sacrificing to an extent (when he offered himself up to Shax's legion to save everyone.) We can assume then, that this is what Gabriel was like before The Fall.

We see some of Jim, or the old Gabriel, start to come back out during his interactions with Beelzebub, for example, miracling the jukebox because he remembers Beelzebub likes the song. Would the Gabriel who sentenced Aziraphale to burn and told him to "shut his stupid mouth and die already" think to do something like that?

No, because love brought him back to himself.

When he's around Beelzebub, the person he loves, we start to see more of Jim, Gabriel's softer side. Eventually, it is this love for Beelzebub which causes a complete reversion back to his old self. As you can see in Gabriel's final scene, he is very pointedly acting much more like the Jim character we became acquainted with over season 2 than the vindictive, wrathful bureaucratic Gabriel from season 1.

Now that Aziraphale has assumed Gabriel's old position, there is a chance the very same thing could happen to him. That the monotony, the responsibility, the corruption of running Heaven, of having everyone look to him for the answers, could do the very same thing to him that it did to Gabriel. Since Jim and Aziraphale's characters are actually quite close to one another (soft, somewhat childlike and innocent, geuinely kindhearted and good) there is a precedent.

(I think Crowley might suspect all this and it's part of the reason why he's so suspicious of and resentful of Heaven for calling Aziraphale back; because he's too loyal for his own good and can't accept that there's something fundamentally wrong with Heaven as an institution, but that's an entirely different post).

When Aziraphale goes back, Crowley knows this is what he's risking. That he's not only leaving Crowley behind, but that he's risking completely changing who he is because of what that position will do to him. It's why he tries so fucking hard to get him to stay. It's why he kisses him. He does everything he can think of to keep Aziraphale there, he puts everything he has on the line to show Aziraphale how he feels in the hopes that he’ll stay so Heaven won’t corrupt him.

But Aziraphale goes anyways.

IN WHICH CASE...

If Aziraphale does let the position change him, like it did Gabriel, the only way to bring him back from being a hard-bitten, cruel and ruthless husk of his former self would be with Crowley's help (vis a vis Beelzebub, a demon, doing it for Gabriel, an angel). And Crowley, no matter how damaged and heartbroken and traumatized, would do it.

It's hard to imagine Aziraphale becoming this way, but could you imagine Jim in a bedsheet toga with a feather duster sentencing someone to death? Me either.

Is it unlikely? Yes. Will it happen? Probably not. Do I like asking myself rhetorical questions to reinforce my point? Also, yes.

That has been my keynote speech, thank you for hearing me out.

#good omens #good omens 2 #gomens #ineffable bureaucracy #ineffable husbands #good omens theory #neil gaiman #michael sheen #david tennant #crowley #aziraphale #crowley and aziraphale

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izzasecretredacted · 5 months

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Homework for Those Who Have No Context for Drake's Public Execution

I've been an off and on fan of rap for a while, based on whether or not my hyperfixations takes me there. With the absolute blindsiding of the Kendrick/Drake beef breaking tumblr, I figured I go back and find some stuff I remembered hearing about in the past. I'll put them here as a brief history lesson, in case you want to know just what Kendrick is talking about and why everyone is rejoicing in the downfall of some popstar that you maybe heard at the supermarket or something...

btw, I'm not posting these in chronological order, but the order of how relevant I think they are and the order I think they're best absorbed.

youtube

This is an essay from about 2 years ago, and is the most indepth source that I'll post here. It talks a lot about Drake's place in Hip-Hop, and also goes into the idea of Drake as a culture-vulture.

This is a 3yo article that has a lot of "Fresh Hot Drama" vibes to it (might be a misread on my part tbf), but is a great secondary source of things that made people question whether Drake was a predator. None of it is completely definitive, but at least a handful of what's presented is very Yikes.

youtube

This is a very brief video that's a whopping 7 years old, but really only stopped being relevant this month (with the exception of a period in time about 2 years after this which will be clear later). It explains Drake's reputation as being untouchable whenever he finds himself in a rap beef, even when very real violence is involved. It also has some foreshadowing to present day. 4:06 in particular is really interesting in hindsight.

youtube

Lastly is the only diss track before now that really put a mark on Drake's reputation, even if it was a small one in the strictly long term. I'm posting a lyric video because the cover to the single is an old picture of Drake in the most blatant blackface imaginable (no, really, blackface is super fucked up in all forms, but this is ssuuuppppeeerrr fucked up) and I didn't want to lock this behind a content warning. The song mentions some of Drake's family (such as his parents, Sandi and Dennis), as well an extremely wild allegation that I guarantee you could not make up. You'll know what it is when it comes up in the song, it's why the song is called "The Story Of Adidon". Its also important to note that Drake admitted that that allegation is true... after a year.

I'm open to anyone else commenting on what I might've missed, but hopefully this should be enough that you can go through was is now an EP's worth of diss tracks from Kendrick and get a more full sense of what's happening around them.

#kendrick lamar #aubrey graham #meet the grahams #not like us #Youtube

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omegalomania · 1 year

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face in my hands. listen to me. no just. just listen. like. i think on the whole fandom tends to heavily mythologize what certain songs are "about" despite this never being solidly confirmed to be the case and fob (pete in particular) generally try not to say without question What Songs Are About because they want people to take whatever meaning they can from it. but from now on we are enemies is one of the exceptions to this rule to a very limited extent and by that i mean that on two separate occasions, during the hiatus, patrick and pete shared a little bit of what the song was about on twitter, independent of one another.

if you haven't seen the film amadeus it's about a rivalry between two historical composers, wolfgang amadeus mozart and antonio salieri. salieri loathes mozart and finds him supremely childish and annoying...but also irritatingly brilliant beyond words. salieri obsesses over wanting to see mozart fail and even plans on killing him, but they do eventually form a friendship. then mozart gets sick and dies. salieri essentially breaks and loses his mind and years down the line will claim that he murdered him.

the name of the song, "from now on we are enemies," is a direct quote from the film. but it's not talking about mozart. it's a furious diatribe that salieri flings at god himself. he's so wildly and deliriously envious of mozart that he feels like this is divine punishment and so he declares god his mortal enemy for bestowing mozart with such brilliance. from now on we are enemies, you and i.

this is, i should note, one of the last songs fall out boy wrote before the hiatus. this and "alpha dog" were considered "new" for the believers never die greatest hits compendium, but alpha dog was technically debuted before folie released, on the welcome to the new administration mixtape. then fall out boy went on hiatus and there was no guarantee of return.

like i dont know what to say about this song that hasnt already been said. its fucking deranged as all get out ill tell you that much. its fucking unhinged that this song, this song with this central thesis statement, is one of the last songs you wrote together as a band before going your separate ways without any guarantee that you would reform again. and it's THIS. IT'S THIS SONG. a song that laments about whether anyone will remember you when you're gone (reminds me of flu game, reminds me of so much (for) stardust the title track, reminds me of .... so many of the themes inherent to their eighth studio album. actually.), and a song that practically lays out its inspiration for all to see. for a band that seldom if ever discloses with actual intent the Meaning behind their songs, this is a song that discusses a HIGHLY FRAUGHT ARTISTIC RELATIONSHIP and it's hard, it's real damn hard, to see anything but what is clearly all on display. composer but never composed (patrick has always considered himself a composer first and foremost). singing the symphonies of the overdosed (pete played a song that was named after the drug he tried to overdose on with his band mere nights earlier). i'm just a man on a balcony singing no one will ever remember me (again there's the fear and dread about the legacy you leave behind just before the band goes their separate ways).

can't fucking lay out the sheer psychological damage this does to my soul just thinking about this. they played MISS MISSING YOU the night before. just, you know, one of the other Songs that's so hard to disentangle from the hiatus because of the way it was written (patrick wrote the music while making soul punk, felt like it wasn't for him, and set it aside...despite there being, again, NO guarantee that the band would ever reform at this point, and then the song was only completed once fall out boy decided to come back, with joe and andy adding instrumentation and pete adding the lyrics) and whose music video features patrick and pete literally KILLING EACH OTHER. from now on we are enemies. i need to walk into the ocean. i need to lie down. im inconsolable.

#*making poasts #i need to be doing comic work but im just fucking FUMING instead. i cant get over this. im never getting over this.

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justporo · 10 months

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Swashbuckling (Shipless)

Staeve and Astarion are captains of hostile pirate crews - one infamous and well feared, the other... rather chaotic but not any less passionate. When Staeve and his crew are in dire need of a new ship, he takes it upon himself to steal one and comes face to face with his nemesis Astarion once more. And no one can know that they not only have a history with crossing their swords - but also something more...

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: I... listen... I hadn't planned to write a pirate AU this week, but here we are. I brought an idea up on @velnnas server and then dear Tange pushed me to go ahead and actually write it - so I sat down and wrote this in like eight hours. Some others from this wonderful community threw in some more points and inspo (e.g. the ship name Absolute). So, @velnna, this is once more for you, thank you for being such an inspiration with your wonderful character (and letting me drag him out to sea)! And thanks also to the wonderful community on discord!

Pairing: Astarion/Staeve (You, male reader) Warnings: some violence, some mutual pining, bit of past traume (if you squint) Wordcount: 5,5k

Song: Jack Sparrow - Klaus Badelt

~~~

Your crew really had need for a new ship. Not only had the old one gotten way too small for your thankfully ever growing group - but it also stank, was just generally old - oh, and it had sunk recently.

Luckily, you had been very close to the biggest port on the coast when that had happened. And somehow all of you had made it the dinghy - even the crew’s loyal dog, Scratch.

Now you had nothing but the clothes on your back - which also kinda stank and were just generally really old: the floppy but comfy leather boots (albeit very wet), leather pants accessorised with multiple belts and the strip of red cloth tied firmly around your hips. And then of course your trusty sabre and dagger carelessly sheathed on some of those belts and your - as usual - wide open and very dirty linen shirt that always worked wonders whenever you were in trouble or just desperately bartering with someone. And it had at least guaranteed you a few nights in one of the taverns after you’d sufficiently charmed the barmaid - which, looking like a bunch of wet dogs, had really been a feat to be proud of.

Oh, and not to forget: you at least still had your ancient tricorne with you - how would anyone know you were a pirate without the proper headgear?

But that, unfortunately, was all you still had to your name. At least that hadn’t sunk with the ship too. It still pained you though that you couldn’t even rightfully call yourself a captain anymore.

But at least if you were shipless and in desperate need of a new vessel, being in a big port was the best thing to happen to you, right? You had a free pick out of everything anchored here.

Of course you had no money, but you were pirates after all. You wouldn’t have intended to pay for it even on a better day. Piracy must be good for something after all.

The last couple of days you and your crew had somehow pulled through while you had taken the time to reorganise and garner some information about the current ships anchoring here. Or to put it plainly: find a time, a place and a target to steal a ship and be on your merry way again.

And now finally, the time had come to set your plan in motion.

It was deep in the night, security at the port was rather light around this time - fools - and the moon was your only real witness as you snuck inconspicuously around the docks towards your target: the Absolute.

A smaller but fine ship. Of course nowhere comparable to the big, flamboyant navy or even other pirate’s ships. Not as excessively decorated with gold covered carvings or intricately crafted lanterns upon it and no dozens of canons to be manned.

But from what you had figured out your pick was to be quick, reliant and most of all: intact. And that already had made you more excited than you would have cared to admit.

You were alone now as you made your way along the final dock towards your target, your crew waiting somewhere outside the city already. And that might have sounded like a really bad idea - and maybe it was. But it was much easier to get away with stealing a ship if you were alone.

And that was yet another advantage of the Absolute: at that size it was fairly manageable alone, at least for a while. Of course your crew had protested, but you had been the reason they’d ended up sinking in the first place. So you felt it was your responsibility to get yourself and everyone else out of this and back on the open sea again. And of course your plan was reckless and stupid and there was a fair chance you’d be caught and thrown into a cell. But what else was new?

You found your target and immediately went to undo all the ropes holding it ashore. When only the anchor held the ship in place you found the spot closest to the net hanging down the side of the ship. You took a few steps back, as far as the dock would allow. You closed your eyes for a moment and lifted your head towards the sky.

This was probably going to end badly. But now you were deep into it anyway.

“Alright, Staeve, time to make a captain out of you again”, you muttered to yourself and then took a running leap to jump and grab hold of the net.

You crashed so hard against the side of the boat that you almost knocked yourself out, but at least you managed to grab hold of some rope. Strands of your long hair were suddenly falling into your face as your trusty tricorn almost fell off but you managed to grab it in time and push it down your head again.

You quickly climbed up and jumped over the railing as silently as possible. Light security didn’t mean there wasn’t any security at all. But it seemed you were in the clear, so you looked around what was supposed to be your new home for you and your crew.

Taking in everything on the deck you quickly found where you could hoist the anchor.

After having dealt with that the ship was already swaying much more on the light waves. You only had to set some sails and start steering it out of the port. This was a walk in the park!

Immediately a voice inside you screamed at you that that usually meant you were moments away from absolute disaster. But for now there was no disaster in sight, right?

With a lot more confidence now you swaggered over to the steering wheel, wanting to prepare your course before the opened sails would immediately drag the ship into another anchored vessel and make it crash. You had barely recovered from one sunken ship, you would not risk another.

You grabbed hold of the steering wheel from the back as it came into your reach, dragged and… nothing happened. You tried again - still nothing.

With a frown you walked around the big wooden wheel. Nothing looked wrong with it, so you grabbed two opposite ends once more and desperately tried to turn. The wheel wouldn’t budge an inch.

Just a tiny bit of panic started to rise within you. Your inner voice snapped at your sarcastically for dismissing it. Your plan couldn’t fail just because you were too weak to turn a godsdamned steering wheel, could it? Furrowing your brows you looked around the damned thing. And after a few long moments of staring at it in confusion and helplessness finally found a small brass contraption beneath it with a small keyhole that seemed to hold everything in place.

“You gotta be kidding me, they’re putting locks on these things now?”, you scream-whispered to yourself and dragged your hat over your face for a moment. “Piracy will die out if that is how things are developing.”

You really needed a good drink if you’d actually manage to pull this off. A big one too. Maybe several even. Hopefully they had stored some liquor somewhere on this thing.

But first you had to find the key

Taking a wild guess, you figured the captain’s cabin would be your best bet. So trying to regain some of your former confidence you turned around and took the few steps over to the dark wooden door that would lead you there.

You laid your hand on the door handle and just for a tiny moment hesitated. All in all, this was all still very easy; too easy almost for your liking. Your inner critic confirmed once more that things were probably about to go sideways.

But then you just shrugged and threw open the door. Expecting complete darkness inside, you were thrown off by the warm, golden light that greeted you. Candles and lanterns were lit throughout the room. Your brows immediately furrowed.

And much more than by the lights you were completely shocked by the man sitting there in the captain’s spot in front of the navigator’s desk in a tall chair turned towards the door. Legs clad in shiny black boots were lazily draped over one of the armrests. He was finely dressed in a red and gold satin doublet with intricate stitching and black leather pants. Of course a rapier was also dangling from his hip and the tip nearly touched the ground.

But he had not gone for a hat. In fact, he never had. It would only have ruined his perfect, luscious white curls as he had always insisted. And he didn’t need one in the first place to have anyone know that he was the most infamous, feared and most dangerous pirate captain on this part of the coast.

Instead as his final accessory he was wearing that smirk you knew and still remembered so damn well, one side of his mouth curled up arrogantly while his red eyes perpetually seemed to tease you. It was that smirk you kept dreaming about when you were honest with yourself. But it was also what you were loathing with a burning passion.

It had made you do things before. Things you were either not proud of or just outright tried to forget. And you couldn’t use that right now.

“Hello Staeve, my darling!”, the man said in a tone dripping with sinful promise and playful threat.

You had been expected.

“Astarion”, you simply managed while your hand immediately wandered towards your sheathed sabre.

Several big rings on Astarion’s long, elegant fingers clinked against the metal chalice as he drank from it. Probably red wine from what you knew about him.

He took his sweet time to respond to you, slowly and languidly letting one of his legs swing back and forth. Obviously, one of you was not in a big rush.

Meanwhile all you could do was stand there and let uneasiness rise up in you. Why was he here, obviously expecting you? And why did he have to sit like this? Bastard!

“Look what the cat dragged out of the sea”, Astarion drawled afterwards while he kept tapping his index against the goblet, causing a very annoying continuous clicking sound.

”By the gods, you look even worse than the last time I threw you to the sharks and left you to die”, Astarion continued with a smug grin on his perfect pale face and shifted around in his seat so he could lean his elbow on the armrest and put his face in his free hand.

You felt your temper rising. Your hand itched to just grab your dagger, throw it at him and wipe his arrogant grin off his face. Especially for making you remember all the times you had come across each other since you had parted ways.

Stuff like this had happened way too often since you had sworn yourself to never return to the bastard. But your paths had crossed again and again and it tended to always lead to intense encounters - one way or another.

And somehow you were always the one left with nothing but an aching heart, yearning for the past while the infamous captain left seemingly unscathed and unbothered.

But you also had other things to think about right now. You were still trying to steal a ship after all! And you had to figure out where this godsdamned key was.

So as you looked around the room searching, you opted to distract Astarion with some idle chatter. You knew that would always work. The flamboyant captain just loved to hear his own voice way too much (you loved it too but of course you would never admit that).

“And what are you doing here? I didn’t see the Crimson anchored anywhere here”, you asked him while your gaze jumped between different corners of the room and your nemesis. At least Astarion was way too focused on mocking you to notice that you were trying to find a way to get the needed key and then get rid of the unwanted passenger.

“Of course, the Crimson isn’t anchored here. We’re not all fools as big as you, Staeve!”, the pale captain spat back at you, obviously offended that you would even think him capable of such a thing.

You shrugged - he kinda had a point. But it still didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be a moment when he would be the bigger fool after all.

“And don’t you have anything better to do than bug me, Astarion?”, you asked to keep him talking when a small golden glint drew your eye to a shelf behind the enormous desk. That must be it. Now you would only need to figure out the perfect moment to make a run for it.

Your eyes focused on Astarion again who was still very comfortably lounging on the big chair. He was currently lazily twisting around one of his ankles to draw circles into the air with one of his booted feet while he was gazing upon the nails of his free hand.

“Why, of course not, my love”, he replied and drew up one of his eyebrows as he looked back at you. “I was just in the area, when some of my crew picked up noise about a ragged bunch who seemed to be pirates trying to collect information about this neat little ship. And the descriptions they gave could really only fit one dirty pirate scum I know”, Astarion explained and lifted his legs from the armrest. The gaze of his unusual red eyes (obviously going perfectly with his doublet) was burning into yours as he got up slowly and sauntered towards you.

“So I bought this ship and simply waited with the laid out trap”, he said playfully and shrugged one of his shoulders, rolling it around, still slowly walking towards you with the feline grace you remembered well. He held the chalice with wine casually by its rim, dangling it next to his leg.

And as you took him in now in all his glory, you couldn’t help but be awestruck. He looked regal and dangerous - simply beautiful. But more than that you were smitten with memories of the past. Not only the last encounters you’ve had that had always been intense, but also from before that. When none of you had even dreamt of putting a captain before your name. Your throat closed up as you kept thinking about that; that and what you had once been for each other.

You desperately forced your thoughts back to the task at hand while the pale captain was sill stalking towards you. Although it was becoming very hard to concentrate the closer Astarion came.

“And you did all this to impress your ex-lover, yes?”, you spat when the other man had come so close that you were almost nose to nose. Gods be damned, he was even more beautiful and breathtaking up close than you remembered.

Several different urges were rising within you fighting for dominance. Your hand balled into a fist so hard, the knuckles were turning white as you tried to suppress all of them at once.

“Some people like big gestures”, Astarion muttered and let his head wander slightly from side to side while his gaze wandered from yours to your lips and back up again.

“Well, I’m not here for a date. I’m here to steal a ship”, you mustered sharply, still desperately trying to push down your conflicting emotions.

Astarion’s red eyes sparked, almost making your heart stutter right then and there.

“But unfortunately I am now in your way”, the captain replied teasingly, one white eyebrow flicking upwards. “What are you going to do about it, Staeve my love? Stab me with your sabre, eh?”, the pale elf teased while licking over his lips and cocking his head. A smug grin was playing on his lips then. His crimson gaze was boring into you, making you gulp.

You mirrored the sardonic smile: “Oh, you mean, like the last time?” You raised an eyebrow, mirroring him, and then quickly with one of your hands made sure that your shirt was still as widely opened as usual.

Astarion’s gaze jumped to your bare chest and you saw a muscle tick in his jaw. Good to know you weren’t the only one affected by this game.

But that was your moment. You pushed your elbow against the captain’s chest hard and made him stumble back with a yelp and then a hiss. The remaining wine spilled from the goblet Astarion had dropped. Some splashed onto you but it didn’t even matter anymore.

With a leap you jumped past the chair and onto the desk and started running across it, almost slipping on the maps and papers strewn across it and face-planting on the dark wood. Jumping off the desk again you were almost at the shelf and had already spotted the small brass key.

You were so desperate to get to the tiny golden thing in time that you nearly didn’t notice the glint of silver rushing towards you. Only in the last moment did you dodge under Astarion’s rapier. The captain had obviously regained his balance quickly and rushed around the side of the navigator’s desk to come after you. A quick glance towards him confirmed that he wasn’t pleased by you so rudely interrupting your flirt.

Meanwhile, dodging the weapon had forced you to drop to your knees and make the rest of the way in a painful slide over the wooden floor boards. You crashed into the shelf, making the key drop directly into your lap. Immediately you grabbed it and jumped up again while you quickly checked that your hat was still in place. And only then did you notice that the piece of furniture had started to tip, caused by you crashing into it.

Astarion was closing in on you again. So you picked the odds that seemed to be already in your favour and grabbed the leaning shelf to throw it down completely between you and your former lover.

And then you ran, drawing your sabre, just in case, while sprinting towards the still open door of the captain’s cabin. Rushing through you slammed the door shut behind you, hoping to gain a few more moments from it.

With the key clutched in your one hand and your weapon in the other you made it to the steering wheel and fumbled the tiny key into the seemingly even tinier keyhole. “You got to be kidding me”, you whisper-screamed once more. “Big ship, tiny key - who the fuck thought of this?”

But you managed to get in the key and heard a satisfying metallic clicking noise when you turned it around. But what you also heard was the door behind you opening and crashing against the wall forcefully when Astarion kicked it open.

You quickly got up, holding firmly onto your sabre while you grabbed one end of the steering wheel and with all your force - you spun it. Finally it worked! A short relieved sigh and a thanks to no god in particular left your lips.

You turned around - and were greeted by the finely dressed captain slashing at you with his rapier again. Your sabre was not lifted a moment too early when Astarion crashed into you and threw you back against the giant wooden wheel that at least had stopped turning. The crash had drained all air from your lungs and the wood was now painfully pressing into your back. You had lost your balance and were unfavourably forced to lean backwards while your boots were trying to find stable footing again.

Astarion’s rapier and your sabre were crossed above your head causing the metal to screech awfully while you were powering against each other. Astarion had thrown his other hand to your throat and was choking you while you tried to stop him from doing that with your own free hand. He was completely feral - probably as mad about you not playing along with his plans for the night as you throwing furniture onto him.

Not really the ideal reunion for former acquaintances, you had to agree. But the two of you had a history to perpetuate when it came to hurting each other in any kind of way possible. Today would be no different.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, your inner voice reminded you that it had indeed been right about the upcoming disaster. But you brushed it off, at least things stayed interesting this way. You were kind of in a rough spot at the moment.

Normally you’d easily be stronger than Astarion but he had taken you by surprise once more - bloody bastard. So the only thing you could do right now was trying to not get your head cut off or choked to death. And you were doing kind of miserably with both, but giving up wasn’t in your nature.

“If you wanted a romantic dinner you would have only needed to ask”, you croaked at Astarion whose face was contorted into a furious grimace. “Well that and at least an apology”, you continued, “maybe then I would have considered.”

Astarion’s red eyes widened shortly and then narrowed at you again. He squeezed your throat harder. The rings on his fingers added to your discomfort.

“You are an idiot, Staeve. You could have stayed with me, become my lover and my partner in crime. At least then you wouldn’t have to steal ships and run around in rags”, the captain hissed at you. His brows were furrowed firmly, causing a deep crease between them as he stared at you from under them. Astarion’s whole face was a snarl.

“What, and only be choked by you casually? Where’s the pleasure in that?”, you mustered despite the pale fingers still closing harder around your throat. The edges of your vision were starting to blacken and your head was beginning to feel woozy. You were quickly running out of options.

“I’ll never be your lap dog, Astarion”, you managed and felt a wave of anger rise up in you as you spat out the words.

The captain kept staring at you but for a split second you saw doubt flit through his crimson eyes and his chokehold on you let up for a moment.

Immediately, you made use of that in combination with anger giving you new strength. You pushed Astarion off you with a furious scream, making him tumble back and even fall with how forceful you had pushed him in his short moment of weakness.

You stepped away from the steering wheel quickly and with sabre in hand looked around, taking in your situation. You were still in the port? Why wasn’t this damned thing moving?

Then you remembered: the sails hadn’t been lowered yet.

Cursing so viciously even a bard would have been impressed by your colourful language, you turned around on the heel of your boot and ran for the nearest rope holding up the mainsail. Without letting go of your weapon but merely flipping it around so you could use your fingers and your other hand, you unwound the rope as quickly as possible. Letting go of it when you had managed you hoped to be rewarded with the big sail coming down and getting you moving. But when you looked up you saw that the damn thing had barely moved at all. Another rope was still holding it in place.

You groaned in desperation - well, you had obviously jinxed it by calling this whole endeavour easy at the beginning. This wasn’t easy at all anymore. In fact, it was a desperate pain in the ass.

Behind you you heard steps fast approaching. And when you turned around, you saw Astarion charging at you again, rapier at the ready, face nothing but an angry mask. But this time you had more time to react. You were ready to meet him now.

Nonchalantly, you threw your sabre up into the air to flip it around. You effortlessly caught it again and steadied yourself for the oncoming blow.

And then it came: the fine, thin blade thrust directly towards your neck. But you dodged the strike easily and struck the rapier away from your body, making it scrape along the edge of your sabre. The force with which Astarion had struck against you and that of your counter strike almost made the captain lose balance immediately.

But what he lacked in strength he made up with speed and dexterity. He withdrew the rapier from where it was drawn towards the ground by you and immediately started another assault, this time aiming for your torso. You dropped your blade to parry his, but his move had only been a feint

Astarion placed another lightning-quick strike towards your hip and you could only drop your weapon to counter in the very last second by letting the rapier crash against your hilt. The force of the strike immediately let pain shoot up your whole arm and into your shoulder. But this unfortunate counter had not only hurt you. You heard Astarion’s pained moan but when you looked into his eyes he was still just as furious, if not even more.

The pale captain then elegantly spun around trying to slash you across the face. You dodged by bowing low and then finally placed your first attack by striking upwards, aiming for Astarion’s shoulder. But your opponent quickly stepped out of your reach and hissed at you, your blade missing him by a fair amount.

And finally with some distance between you, you took your chances and ran off towards the other rope still holding up the sail. Immediately, you knew you were being followed by the angry scream ringing out behind you and the rushing footsteps. When you had reached the spot you turned around again and were immediately hit in the face with the hilt of the rapier.

You groaned as you saw stars and fell back against the railing. He’d hit you squarely on the nose. And the wet feeling you noticed immediately afterwards could only mean that he had drawn blood. But you didn’t let go of your sabre and still managed to parry Astarion’s next blows. A fine pirate you’d be if you were to give up after one hearty punch in the face. This was merely a warmup.

But Astarion’s attacks seemed almost a bit cautious now. Was he letting up? It almost seemed that he hadn’t planned to hurt you that much with the unfair blow of the wrong end of his weapon. His fault though, for taking it easy on you.

“You know you’re supposed to stab me with the pointy end, not the blunt one, right?”, you spat breathlessly between trading blows with your former lover. That again made Astarion rage with fury. Heedlessly he swung his blade at you and you once more dodged by bowing below it, only being missed by a hair now.

And then you suddenly heard rustling above you. You quickly looked up and saw the end of the rope flutter while the mainsail was finally unfolding. Apparently, the rapier strike had just cut through the last string attached holding you captive in this port - good!

Astarion too had been distracted by the sudden happenings. “Shit”, he cursed under his breath. Both your weapons were lowered now as you watched the sail filling up with wind. And then with a sudden yank the ship started moving and with that threw you both against the wooden railing - hard. Your hat fell off and you could only helplessly yelp as you saw it drop into the water out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re never going to get away with this”, Astarion hissed at you as you were both grabbing to hold on and gain balance again.

“But I am already getting away with it”, you grinned back while you felt more blood run from your nose into your mouth. A quick glance confirmed that you had at least steered well enough and the ship was moving away from the docks.

“Even if you are, you are never going to beat me”, the pale captain hissed again while he was pushing away from the railing and raising his weapon again. He was stumbling a bit but he wouldn’t give up, same as you.

“I don’t have to”, you replied and gritted your teeth as you too took up a fighting stance again. You were fairly sure you couldn’t keep going much longer but you still had to rid yourself of this unwanted guest.

Astarion looked in confusion at you while he made no move to attack you while you were still arranging yourself - gentleman’s agreement.

“I just need to be a pain in your ass so you’ll never forget what you’ve done to me”, you finished and licked over your lips, tasting copper and baring your teeth at him for just a moment.

For a quick second Astarion’s shoulders dropped and you saw hurt and guilt flash over his face. But it was quickly gone and replaced with anger once more as he rushed towards you in a final effort.

You stood your ground and watched him come with determination on your face. With a mighty blow of your own you met Astarion’s blade. And then it was a measure of strength again as your blades were pressing against each other. Astarion’s face was a grimace of pain and anger while he immediately went to support the blade with both his hands. You easily held yourself against him now. You’d always been the stronger one.

“We really have to stop meeting like this, love”, you said with a grin although your whole body was hurting now and in your mind and in your chest conflicting emotions were also still battling each other. You wanted to push him away for good as much as you wanted to pull him closer. Astarion just scoffed in response with his face twisted in pain. Both of your arms were shivering from the effort.

You were still torn between pushing and pulling - so you opted for something in between.

With a swift movement you withdrew yourself and your blade, causing Astarion to stumble forward caused by the sudden loss of resistance.

And that was your opening. With your free hand you grabbed the front of his doublet forcefully and pulled him even closer towards you while Astarion’s eyes widened in shock. But you hadn’t planned to hurt him - or not as he probably expected.

You dragged him over to you and crushed your mouth to Astarion’s lips that were already opened in surprise. The captain gasped when your mouths met but you didn’t leave him time to readjust. You let your tongue slip into his mouth and kissed him: passionately, forcefully but still meaning more to please than to hurt. And Astarion took you up on it, welcoming your kiss and giving in, even slowly moving closer. It was another show of strength but this time you won easily.

When you had almost forgotten what you had actually planned to do, you curtly stepped away sideways, letting go of Astarion. But not without noticing the glazed over look in the pale captain’s red eyes. His blade was lowered now, as were his defences in this instant. You saw the wishful yearning on your former lover’s eyes and knew that it was mirrored on your face, probably with a huge blush too.

But you had come here to steal a ship - and a ship you would steal.

“Thanks for buying me this gift”, you whispered and then with a quick and forceful movement pushed Astarion - whose face only managed to change to confusion - over the railing and off the ship.

You heard him yelp and then a big splash of water. iImmediately, you leaned over the railing to check if he was okay. After all, you had only meant to get him off your newly acquired property. To your relief you quickly spotted Astarion coming up from his plunge. His wet curls were hanging around his face now as you saw the hate and the fury on his face.

“You can have my hat if you can find it”, you screamed as the vessel was quickly moving away from where you saw a flash of Astarion’s curls in the dark water.

“STAEVE!”, he screamed. “YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS!” The anger in his voice was blood curdling. Good thing you were quickly moving away from him. You were pretty sure he’d find a painful way to kill you in this instant, given the opportunity.

“WE WILL MEET AGAIN AND I WILL MAKE YOU PAY!”, was the last thing you heard before you turned away from the railing. “Bet”, you replied only to yourself and walked over to the steering wheel. You looked up at the stars and checked if you were on your planned course to pick up your crew.

Then you went below deck of the Absolute to go find some desperately needed liquor.

By the time you’d reach the rest of your crew you’d be blackout drunk. Not only because you wanted to celebrate being captain of a new ship now, but mainly to forget the captain of another.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 companions #staeve #astarion x staeve

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heartsteel-heartbeats · 10 months

Note

fellow kayn appreciator hi!!!! love how you write him :D could i please request platonic headcanons or like. general thoughts on how kayn would be as a friend to a gn!reader? whether they're also a performer or not is up to you but specifically they'd have met before kayn joined heartsteel. thank you and i hope life treats you kindly!! 💕

Platonic Kayn HCs

Reader is a performer, Pre-Heartsteel

(( I don’t think you guys actually know what you do to me whenever you compliment the way I write Kayn it has me doing the Markiplier “yippee! wahoo!! yeeee!!” )) ~ OBBY 💗

Being friends with Kayn includes lots of text messages from him. Sometimes you two text each other for hours, other times he has to run cause he’s busy. If you text him before he does after he says he has to do something, you’ll probably be speaking to Rhaast. There’s a 50/50 chance that he’ll stay and chat for a while or he’ll say he can’t chat cause he’s still working.

Sometimes he doesn’t get back to you for a few days. If you’re lucky, he’ll message you within hours. If it is taking him a few days, there’s a good chance you may need to check up on him. Sometimes he loses himself when he’s too focused on working.

On some nights, you two video call on Discord while you’re both working. You may or may not end up getting sidetracked by playing a video game together. FPS, horror, or survival horror. So games like Left 4 Dead, Dying Light, Lethal Company, and even Halo are up there. As long as there’s co-op, you’ll be playing. Sometimes, one of you will share your screen so the other can watch. Games like The Mortuary Assistant, Resident Evil, Alien: Isolation, and Outlast are pretty good.

Going to each other’s concerts isn’t always a guarantee, but both of you try. Not to mention, the paparazzi will be annoying to deal with once people start to realize one of you is at the other’s concert.

Kayn’s not against introducing you to Akali. There’s a good chance she’s heard of you and probably listens to some of your works, so it’s a win. And so, you, Kayn, and Akali are all in a group chat where you just kinda laugh at some hate comments each of you get. It’s especially funny when the thread just keeps going with people arguing. It’s very tempting to go and leave a comment in the argument just to see how it’d go, especially since Kayn would actually try to get you and Akali to say something. Luckily neither of you actually did it. Imagine the articles and posts on social media that would be made about it…

Since this is before Kayn joined Heartsteel, Kayn does sometimes send you some of his works. You know, the ones that were never made public. He knows you accept both him and Rhaast, so think of it as his appreciation for it. Sometimes Rhaast sends ones that Kayn didn’t send yet, but in return, he wants a sneak peek at one of your own.

On that topic, you’ve kept up to date with what his old band has been up to, both before and after he was no longer a part of it. It wasn’t on purpose, it just shows up on your recommended time to time. There was some discourse, and then after Kayn was no longer there, things seemed to take a bit of a turn for the worst for both him and the band. The band was struggling and Kayn’s reputation crashed. Him not releasing his songs to the public didn’t help, but he had his reasons for that. You were in no position to pry, so all you can really do is continue supporting him.

The idea for a collab was always up there even if you’re running solo or not, but it never actually happens because Kayn and Rhaast always have drafts piled up. Rhaast just thinks it’d be pretty fun to do. But seriously, they do need to finish up their own works. A collab is the last thing he needs to add to his list right now.

Sometimes invites you to liven up an alley he found, or a wall in an abandoned building. If you have an idea for his idea, say it. He knows if you’ve got something in mind anyway, so it’d be better to just say it because he’d pester you about it. You’ll probably even notice he brings a little sketchbook sometimes. Also, those spray paints were totally not Akali’s. If you have paint as well, he’ll be taking those too. If you find some missing, you know who to interrogate. Don’t expect him to admit it though.

If you’re the one inviting him, he doesn’t mind if he just watches or pitches in an idea or two. Knowing him, he won’t always just sit and watch. He also doesn’t want you holding back on your artistic ability, so please, go all out and experiment if you have to. Not giving it your all, especially in front of him, is almost insulting to him.

Do you guys get caught? Maybe sometimes. The chase is always fun though. Well, maybe not all the time, but you can still look back at the memory and laugh a bit.

Kayn has one or two of your songs in his little private playlist. Will he ever tell you? Nope.

Sometimes the media goes overboard with your relationship with him. It’d be nice to debunk all of their theories and speculations, but Kayn insisted you let them go at it cause it’s funny. Admittedly, it was. Every small thing was “a hint.” There are some that take some “signs” differently and start wars between both of your fans. Still rather entertaining, but it did feel more concerning. Some fans can be pretty crazy. Usually, those little wars fix themselves within a few weeks if you’re lucky. Maybe months.

If it does come to it, Kayn won’t stop you from posting something in response to hopefully calm things down. Hell, he might even make a post himself. His wording might be a bit aggressive though.

#heartsteel #obby’s scripts!#i feel like some of this is suggesting they like each other 🧍#also sorry if it’s kinda shorter than how much i usually type #league of legends #league of legends heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #lol kayn #shieda kayn #kayn x reader #kayn #league of legends x reader #league of legends rhaast #rhaast

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farfromstrange · 1 year

Text

Tupperware | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: A conversation about kitchen supplies leads to something more...

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), multiple orgasms, aftercare

Word Count: 6.7k (This is a literal Smut Beast)

A/n: Yeah, whatever you think the title means in context, I guarantee you, this is different. But also, maybe not. I found this in my drafts because it was originally planned as an FG One Shot, but I decided to just throw my plans off the board and turn it into a reader insert (I've written this a while back, but I reread and edited it). Funny story: I found this writing prompt and it reminded me of the accent I have and how I say Tupperware (and how everyone in my State says Tupperware, the German version ofc), and I found it funny because that is definitely something I did when I said it in English for the first time. Anyway, enjoy!

The couple sat on his couch, the lights of the Billboard growing more distinctive as the sun started to set. He was working on the paperwork that had piled up over the days while she was reading something on her laptop. The steady typing of her fingers synchronized with her steady breathing. He didn’t mind the sound of her working. He enjoyed the carelessness of it all. Just two people seeking the comfort of each other’s presence while doing two completely different things. It wasn’t weird, it was productive.

At some point, he reached for her leg that was poking his side and placed it in his lap. She smiled at the casual, domestic action. His fingers stroked her calves absentmindedly while his mind continued to occupy itself with the information on the case that reached in through his headphones.

He heard her laugh at something. He smiled as he asked, “What?”

“I was looking for some accessories for our kitchen,“ – his heart bloomed at the pronoun, – “And now Google is trying to sell me Tubberware,” she stated. “I don’t even use Tubberware anymore.”

The headphone fell from his ear.

“What are you saying?” Matt asked.

His lip twitched, more in disbelief than amusement, but it was also weirdly adorable, the way the ‘b’s’ rolled from her tongue.

“Say it again,” he told her.

Her eyebrows crinkled. “Tubberware,” she said, remaining serious and clueless throughout.

“Say it again. Slow.”

“Tubberware.”

“Slow, very slow– actually, say the first syllable.”

Her frown deepened. “Tub,” she said confidently.

Matt bit his cheek. “Wrong.”

“What do you mean, wrong?”

“I thought I caught that. You’re saying tub. It’s P.”

He had to keep telling himself not to laugh, but it was so incredibly hard with the pout on her lips growing by the second.

She removed her leg from his lap and sat upright, laptop moving dangerously close to the edge of her thighs. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Tupperware,” he stated. “Tupper.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks. “It’s Tupperware?!”

He couldn’t hold it any longer. The laugh rolled off his lips like a serenading song. “It’s Tupperware, always has been, always will be,” he choked out.

The pout came back, stronger than before. A frustrated pout. This was entirely different from the confused and irritated one. “I thought it was tubberware because it kind of looks like a tub,” she muttered.

“Oh, baby,” he laughed.

“It looks like a tub,” she said.

“I know it does. I’m sorry.”

“Stop laughing at me, you dick!”

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. It’s just… say it again. Please. For me.”

“So that you can make more fun of me?” she asked. “No thank you.”

“I’m not making fun of you, I promise. It just sounds so cute when you say it. Do it for me, please. I want to hear it again.”

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of laughing too. She was supposed to be mad at him, but she somehow couldn’t because looking at it from this angle, she realized how stupid it was. Tubberware. It was hilarious, even.

“Tubberware,” she said again, trying to breathe through the fit of laughter bubbling in her throat.

Matt laughed. “Again,” he begged.

“Tubberware.”

“It’s so cute, I can’t-“ his voice cracked.

“I hate you!”

“I know you want to laugh,” he titled his head knowingly, “so laugh.”

“No,” she said.

“Please."

“Don’t tell me what to do,” but at this point, she was already laughing. The sound he loved so much grew louder by the second.

Her stomach hurt. His did, too.

“I’ve been saying it for years,” she said between breaths. “And no one’s ever told me. Oh, God!”

“I’m sorry,” said Matt. “I didn’t mean to… Tubberware.” He giggled. “It’s adorable.”

“Shut up!"

"I'm sorry, I'll stop." He wiped some more of his laughing tears.

Grateful for his attempt to compose himself, she nodded. "Okay,” she turned back toward her laptop, “While we’re already on the issue, do we need anything else?"

He threw his head back, thinking. “We could use some new spatulas,” he said. "And lunchboxes. Tupperware has some great choices, you should take a look."

Her laugh died into a smile. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“What I’m saying is, we’re not getting Tubberware.”

“Why not?” He cocked an eyebrow. “They’ve got great kitchen stuff and it’s easy to use. You know, for me as a blind man…”

“Matt Murdock, are you one of those Tubberware grandmas?” It was her turn to laugh.

He pouted. “Shut up.”

“Oh no, we need to talk about this.”

“No, I’ve got work to do. You should buy what I just said. We definitely need that.”

“Alright, let me see what Amazon has," she said.

“No, we'll get it from Tupperware," he retorted. "I've been using nothing else for years."

“That's not my problem. There are cheaper options. Amazon, same-day delivery. Why do we have Prime if we don't use it? And don't say because of the Podcasts, we have Spotify, which is ten times better."

“Tupperware has better quality.”

“I'm buying the spatula and the lunchboxes from Amazon, end of discussion.”

There was a playful smile on his lips, already telling her what he was about to say next was merely a joke. “You’re not the man of the house,” Matt argued. “As the man of the house, I dictate where we buy our kitchen supplies.”

She gasped, her mouth hanging wide open as she processed his words. Even though it was a joke, she couldn't help but feel slightly offended at even the prospect. Shaking her head, she cocked her eyebrows at him and said, “And as the woman you depend on to suck your dick, I strongly suggest you think about what you just said.”

He bit his cheek. “Oh, so we’re going there?”

She smirked. “I thought you could handle it, tough guy.”

“Okay, that’s it!” He tossed the case file aside, tore the laptop from her hands, and pulled her into his lap in one swift motion.

Matt was always the first to suggest a gentle game of teasing, but he barely had any tolerance for it. He was always the first to get riled up, no matter what. Perhaps she should have thought twice about her words, but it was so much more fun to see him like this than give in too soon.

He rolled her hips down into his, his fingers sure to leave bruises as he guided her along his slacks. The moan she let out was guttural.

Matt bit down on her earlobe. “Mouth off on me again and this is all you’re gonna get for the next week,” he said.

Her thighs fluttered around his own. The heartbeat between her legs bounced off his muscles. The room suddenly grew too hot to breathe the toxic air in.

“On second thought,” she began, though when Matt’s lips wandered from her ear to her neck and down to her cleavage, the words got caught in her throat.

He ran his hands under her shirt. Her skin was hot. The rough callouses of his fingers pulled the fabric aside until it slipped off her shoulders.

“No bra,” he smirked. “Nice.”

She whined. “I really need to buy kitchen supplies now, Matt,” she tried again.

He sucked one of her nipples into his hot mouth. If they were hard due to the cold air in the apartment or because his touch sent her into overdrive she wasn’t sure, but once he was on her all she could think about was his stupid mouth on her tits.

Her nipple slipped off his tongue with a pornographic plop. “I want you to do as I say,” he said.

“You can't use your bedroom voice when we're talking about the apartment. Oh, fuck!”

He slapped his hand flat on her ass.

“You were saying?”

She wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his perfectly wet lips.

“Stop teasing me.”

Matt leaned back from the mess he made on her chest, eyelids fluttering innocently, hands rested on her hips again. “You said you needed to buy kitchen supplies,” he said.

And he was instantly back in his teasing mood, believing he finally got the upper hand.

“I lied,” she said.

“No, you didn’t. You really need to buy kitchen supplies.”

She huffed. “Fine, guess I’ll do it myself.”

He wanted to laugh.

Her shorts accompanied her shirt on the floor. Half naked, she plopped down next to him on the couch again.

Matt choked on nothing at all, her scent thick in the air. When her thighs moved, the sound it made was wet, hot, and sticky. He loved that sound. He loved it most when it was as close to his ears as possible, squished between those perfect thighs that made the sound unbearable.

She threw her head back, throat exposed. She sighed. Her fingers ran over her body, barely touching, only testing the waters. All hairs on her body stood at full attention, the ache between her thighs thudding so hard to the point where she could hear nothing but blood in her ears. Her heart sped up, half because of embarrassment, the other half because of excitement. She wasn’t sure what was stronger. They’d never done anything like this before and she doubted he’d even let her. Up until this point he hadn’t done anything but listen closely though, fists clenched around the soft fabric of his slacks close to his crotch.

Her fingers ghosted over the waistband of her panties. Black silk. He liked the feeling of lace on her, but after some time it began to tickle and he hated the way it itched at his skin, so she barely wore lace anymore. He had his hands on her at all times, she had to adapt.

Matt’s hand shot out instantly. Her fingers barely breached her panties and he already had enough. “Don’t you dare,” he said.

“Why?” she challenged. Her voice was nothing but a series of breaths.

“Because it’s mine.”

“If you won’t touch me-“

He shoved his fingers down her underwear.

“Fuck!” Her head fell even further down the armrest.

“You were saying?”

“I’m sorry. Keep going.”

“Why?” his thumb stopped over her clit. “Why should I give you anything?”

“Because I will buy or- or do anything you want from now on, I promise!”

“Watch your tone, sweetheart,” he bellowed.

“Please,” she squirmed, searching for any kind of friction. His hand kept her hips restrained without even trying, any move grazing her just enough to make her body jolt, but not nearly enough to be pleasurable.

“Hm,” he hummed.

“Please?”

“Okay,” and he pressed his thumb down so hard, she swore she saw stars dance around her clouded vision.

She moaned just the way he liked it. “Fuck.”

“Will you keep quiet?” Matt resumed his work. Even though his pants were painfully tight, he acted like nothing had happened. “I need to finish this paperwork,” he told her. “I won’t ignore my responsibilities just because someone decided to be a needy whore today. So if you want to cum, you better stay quiet so I can concentrate.”

His thumb worked its way up and down her clit, circled, and drew patterns she’d never seen before. She bit into her bottom lip until it drew blood.

He knew her body better than anyone else, better than herself even. He knew what she liked, what made her squirm, what she didn’t like, and what could make her body shake instantly.

Her body was an altar. He had every last inch mapped out to perfection. Her skin was soft like a sunny day in spring and it smelled salty like the sea, sweet like the field of flowers in Central Park, and distinctive like summer rain. Every time he touched her, he was on fire. The temperature in her body changed with every flick of his fingers. Every hitch of her breath he caught onto. She didn’t even have to tell him to keep going, he simply knew.

Matt worshipped her body like he would kneel on the bench at church. She was a row of burning candles before the cross and he knelt before her like a pathetic disciple willing to do anything to please the divine being.

Her stifled moans through the palm of her hand drove him crazy. Usually, he was a lot more composed than that, but it was late, he was overworked and he was horny, and he couldn’t concentrate with the wetness of her arousal lying thick in the air. He licked his lips to taste it. He tasted the air like a starved man.

Matt growled. “Fuck this,” he said.

She protested silently when he retreated his thumb. She sat up against the armrest, staring at him. His hair stood in all directions from the hand he ran through it, his lips plump, seeking friction.

“Come here.” He grabbed her hips and placed her back on his lap, legs on either side of his thigh. “I need you close to me,” he breathed into her mouth as they met halfway. “Ride my thigh.”

She swallowed. “What?”

“Ride my thigh. Be a good girl and ride my thigh. You want to make yourself cum, hm? I’m giving you an opportunity here, unless, of course, you’re too pathetic to do it yourself. Do you need me to help you, hm?”

She swallowed again. “Please,” she said.

His hands gently began to roll her hips against him. “Like that?” he asked.

The moan she let out was answer enough.

“Feel good?”

She bit into her lip, nodding wildly.

“Use your words,” he said. “Don’t hold back.”

Her head fell on his shoulder, hand seeking something to hold onto behind him at the back of the couch.

The silence earned her another hard slap on her ass.

“Answer me.”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Feels good. Keep going, please.”

Matt smirked. “Good girl.”

The leather was dented under her fingers. She held onto the couch for dear life. His hands guided her hips deliciously over his thigh, the fabric of his slacks mixed with the silk of her underwear sliding against her sensitive clit over and over again driving her closer and closer to the end.

She saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Her eyes rolled back. The pressure in her lower abdomen began to build slowly but steadily. She involuntarily sped up, sloppily fighting against the slow pace he’d set. He would’ve stopped her if he hadn’t been so riled up already, so he let her. He let her chase for the sweet relief the knot in her stomach prepared her for.

“Matt,” she whined his name.

One of his hands began to stroke her back. “I know,” he said. “I know, baby.”

Her thighs twitched around his, her entire body shaking underneath his touch. It was all too much. His rough hands on her hot skin, his fingers digging in sure to leave bruises, and the gentle coax of his hand on her back, stroking innocently to help her through it. His touch was too much to bear.

Matt instantly reached out when she threw her head back. The moan sounded delicious in his ears. He caught her head with his hand around the back of her neck, making sure she wouldn’t fall over and hurt herself. She clenched around nothing, thighs threatening to close but his own kept them open.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She wasn’t crying, not at all. The tear came from a place of pure pleasure. Her body couldn’t handle it. The sensations he put her through left her speechless every time he touched her. She couldn’t breathe. Her throat was dry.

His thumb drew circles on the back of her neck. He brought her back to earth after it just shattered before her very eyes.

“Fuck,” she choked out.

Matt guided her back into his chest and she took the support gladly. His heart beat against her bare breasts. The bulge in his pants became painfully clear once she regained feeling in her limbs. It brushed her thighs where it lay between his own.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“That was…” she couldn’t find the right words.

“I know.”

She didn’t quite trust her legs when she twisted to swing the one between his thighs over the other one. She kept her hands on his shoulders to straddle him without falling over.

Matt tilted his head, eyes searching for hers. “What’re you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

“Looks like you need some help,” she stated. She played with his belt buckle.

“It’s fine. You know I don’t need anything in return for making you feel good.”

“I know, but I want to. That looks painful.”

In one swift motion, she pulled the belt out of his slacks and tossed it aside.

Matt chuckled at her eagerness. “You are insatiable, you know that?” he dove in to kiss whatever bare skin he could reach.

His lips sloppily kissed down her neck and up again, chasing her lips. She kissed him back as hard as she could. Their teeth clashed, tongues fighting each other for dominance, knowing he’d win anyway. He swallowed every breath she took, sucking her dry and breathing new life back into her mouth.

She opened the button on his pants, trying hard to pull it down enough to get his aching cock out of them.

He caught onto her plan. Shifting his hips, she managed to reach into his boxers.

“Wait,” he said.

“What?” she blinked at him.

Matt reached for the hem of her panties. His fingers flexed.

Rip.

She gasped. The silk fell to the floor in nothing but flaps of fabric.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.

“Fine.” In response, the buttons of his dress shirt flew in all directions. She ran her hands down his chest, satisfied with the ripped front of the shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders.

He chuckled. “That’s fair.”

She kissed down every exposed sliver of skin on his torso. Her tongue ran over the jagged scars, the freshly healed bruises from a couple of nights ago. He was beautiful. With the billboard casting a pornographic red light on them, eyes closed, he looked like the child of an angel and a demon. His entire existence was ephemeral, his body a wonderland.

She sucked one of his perky nipples into her mouth. He arched almost entirely off the couch.

“I love you,” she breathed against him.

She liked the way the words sounded. For someone so afraid of admitting her feelings not so long ago, she’d come quite far. It had become her new favorite thing to say. Though the true weight of the statement came in the moments they were intimate. She could chant the same three words to him all day, but the second they were close to each other, touching where only they could touch, those three words regained their true meaning. It was sweet, almost innocent. The kind of love everyone wished for. An endless spiral of butterflies danced around in their stomachs.

Matt chuckled. The very same sound turned into a moan once her teeth dug into the flesh around his nipples.

“I’m worshipping you now,” she told him. Her kisses traveled down his body.

Her warmth on his chest disappeared. Instead, the hot trail of kissed lead to the opened button of his slacks. Her tongue played with his belly button, the happy trail leading into Neverland.

She kissed each scar on either side. “Perfect,” she hummed. “I don’t deserve you and yet you’re mine. This is mine. Only mine. No one else’s.”

“I’m yours.”

“Mine,” she kissed the lower part of his stomach. “Mine,” her lips landed on the hem of his boxers. “Mine,” it was an animalistic growl. She pulled down his underwear swiftly.

Matt didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening. He was so in awe of the way she touched and spoke of his body, he listened to her for the sake of having her praise him over and over again. The words carried innocence in their sinful ways.

He choked on air. His scars long forgotten, her mouth opened around its original destination.

“Lord have mercy!” he grabbed a fistful of hair.

Her tongue licked a thick stripe down his shaft.

Matt was a religious man. He prayed regularly and went to church and Sunday Mass. He swore never to take God anywhere other than he needed to be, but that woman and her cursed mouth made him see God in the fiery land of his unseeing vision. What they were doing was outright sinful. He knew he’d go to hell for saying the lord’s name in vain. He’d go to hell for everything he’d ever done and yet, while that was the truth, he didn’t care because, at that moment, he was living. He was alive. He’d gotten used to the thought of going to hell, seeking penance almost every day since. With her though, something had awakened inside of him. He couldn’t let it go. The Devil inside of him wanted to play.

Her mouth danced perfectly to the gospel of his moans, he forgot who he was. He tried hard not to push her head further down his cock, although the warmth of her throat sent him into pleasurable overdrive.

The cold air hit the head, falling from her lips like a wet towel. “It’s okay,” she said. “Take what you need.”

It was all the confirmation he needed.

His hips bucked up into her throat. She had laid off the gag reflex the first time she had his cock in her mouth, knowing the act alone could turn her on for more than one day. She could cum from simply touching him, hearing the dirty sounds slip past his swollen lips, and she’d be more than okay with it. The sounds he made were heaven’s gift to her, she was sure.

His cock twitched against her throat. She braced herself, eyes already closed.

“Stop,” he choked out.

She instantly sat back on her heels, naked and worked up.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No, not at all. I just… I need you.”

His chest heaved with the denied orgasm. The one he had denied himself. Anticipation rutted through his veins.

She swallowed the precum mixed with spit inside her hollowed-out mouth. The skin tingled. “You want me to-“ she pointed to his lap.

Matt sensed the motion. “If you want to,” he said. “But you can lay back and let me do all the work if that’s what you want. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Her thighs trapped his. She’d never been so comfortable doing that before. She was completely naked on top of him while he sat there, half-dressed, eyes searching for what he couldn’t see. Blood rushed to her cheeks. The position was compromising.

He pulled the hair from her face. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I don’t know what I’m doing but yeah, I’m sure.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve got you.” He pressed his lips to her collarbone. “Mine,” he licked a stripe up her pulse point. “Mine,” the spank landed right on her ass. The next touch of his fingers made her shudder. Her cheeks flooded red with blood. “And mine,” he parted his fingers between her thighs to spread the lips of her pussy wide open.

Part of her wanted to scramble away. He couldn’t see but he could feel everything. It was just about the same as having him watch every inch of her body closely. Every last crevice he wanted to memorize. She wasn’t sure what to think. Her brain refused to function. She was entirely bare to him.

“Matt,” she said his name.

“You’re beautiful. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He kissed her again. Passionate, loving. “Remember our safe word?”

“Hmm.”

“Tell me.”

“Red.”

He flicked the switch. “Okay, good girl,” the dark sound of his voice made all the embarrassment vanish. Instead, heat shot through her core. “Good girl, having your good little cunt spread for me. Just want to look at you the way I can. Want to see what’s mine. Want to feel how wet you are from riding my thigh. Oh, look at you!” he smirked. “This is turning you on, isn’t it? Your heart’s going crazy and you’re literally dripping. You’re making such a mess on my good pants. You want to make a mess on my cock now too, don’t you? You want to be my good little slut and ride my cock?”

She only whined.

His hand slapped across her ass harder this time. The collision stung. “Use your words,” he demanded. “Use your words or I’m leaving you like this.”

“I’m sorry,” her voice came out sobbing. “I’m sorry. I want you inside of me. I want to be your good girl, I promise.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes, please! Please fuck me, Matthew. I’ll do anything. Please!”

“Don’t cry.” He wiped her cheeks. “I know I’m good, but no need to cry. You’ll get what you want. Want to make you feel good, hm. You deserve it for always being so patient.”

“Yes, I’ve been patient. I’ve been good. So good.”

He laughed. “You’re already so dumb for me, baby. You sure you can take this?”

“Yes!”

“What’s your color?” The always caring Matt Murdock peaked out from under the dark, sex-crazed facade only she got to see.

She shuddered. “I-“ words came harder than they should have.

His head titled. Worry spread across his face, ready to take back whatever he said.

“Green,” she eventually managed to say.

She only wanted the ache between her thighs to be numbed. She wanted him so incredibly deep inside of her, she could feel him bulge her stomach, everywhere he could be inside of her.

Matt smirked, and it only grew darker from there.

“Good girl,” he praised again.

She slapped her hand on her mouth. He bottomed out quickly, without warning. He penetrated her without thinking twice about it, burying himself so deep inside of her, he could feel her walls contracting around him with every inch. She sucked him in and she screamed. She was sure she screamed. Her hand was the only thing keeping the neighbors from knocking on their door. His name slipped from her lips like a prayer, like she was singing his name in church and the word echoed off the walls for everyone to hear. Except no one was supposed to hear this. It was just them. This was their safe space. They could be however they wanted to be like this, and only then they could touch each other so sweetly when the world wasn’t watching them and they didn’t have to worry about anything other than themselves.

The sound was new, even for Matt. He too was sure he let out the nastiest sound known to man, but unlike her, he had no intention of masking it. He bottomed out and he chose to stay like this for just a little while longer, waiting for her muscles to relax, waiting for her to enjoy this.

The impatient roll of her hips eased his worries.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

She breathed through her nose, “Okay.”

“Then ride me.”

And she did.

She started with a slow pace, taking her time to adjust to his size. Every inch of her felt perfectly filled out. He managed to reach parts of her she never could’ve found on her own. He had this way with her body, it was like a high that never ended, the endless train on the river of sugar rush.

Her eyes trailed up his body. Head tilted back, his eyes fluttered with every thrust of her hips. One arm flexed with the pressure he applied to the leather seat, the other was placed softly against the flesh of her hips. He made sure she knew he was there if she needed him to take control, though, at the same time, the move seemed almost domineering, leaving her no choice but to do as he wanted. She was completely at his mercy. Even the slightest touch made her cave. He knew it and she knew it.

If he’d told her to drive to hell with him, she would have.

The slow and steady pace felt like heaven to him. Her hips drew patterns to chase that spot so very deep inside of her, only he could reach it. The swirl was delicious around his cock, the hot, soft flesh of her insides rolling against him, up and down and up and down. He listened to her heartbeat, strangled breathing, and the goosebumps on her skin. Moan after moan escaped her lips, growing louder and louder until she couldn’t hold it anymore. He filtered out every hint of discomfort or frustration. What she liked, what she continued doing, and what just didn’t seem to work. She explored herself without even realizing and it turned him on even more. He could’ve sworn he felt himself getting harder inside of her if that was humanly possible.

His ears only picked up on rushing blood and labored breaths. There was nothing else but the feeling of her body, the scent of sweat, and bittersweet arousal on his lips and tongue. He was entirely enveloped in her. Everything was about her. Her body, her wetness, her heart. The heart between her legs, loud and dominant.

She whimpered at the sight before her. Matt Murdock in all his glory, half naked with his shirt ripped at her fingers, fabric, and skin clutched between her nails. Sweat coated his forehead, mouth slightly agape. His lashes fluttered around his unseeing eyes. She didn’t even have to move. If she wanted to, the sight would’ve been enough to make her come undone in a matter of seconds. He was so comfortable in her presence, his shoulders slouched in absolute relaxation as her movement urged him closer to his own release.

The next time her hips rolled down into his, he met her movements. His hips jerked up with a purpose. That purpose lay deep inside of her and he knew where it was. The thrust from underneath made her cry out. The spongy spot inside of her danced with euphoria as the head of his cock brushed against it.

He chuckled breathlessly. “There it is,” his head stayed hung over the back of the couch.

She braced herself. The new wave of pleasure only spurred her on. The way he dove impossibly deeper into her with every brush against that sweet spot had him reeling, gripping the leather for any kind of support. She followed close behind, her hips beginning to move as if her life depended on it. With every thrust, she sped up. Although her legs slowly grew tired, all she could feel was the tingling knot deep in her stomach blossoming into a beautiful flower and waiting to blow.

The hand that had once laid around her waist landed around her throat instead. The leather wasn’t nearly enough to keep him composed if that was even possible.

Hell’s Kitchen always haunted him. Noise and smell followed him home, and the sound of innocent people getting hurt kept him from falling asleep most of the time. He couldn’t tune it out. The city was a part of him. Even asleep, he dreamed of all the bad that was out there and all the things he’d done in his life, the things that lead him there, the people he’d hurt. The city never slept and neither did he, not really.

Though with her, for the first time, he was able to breathe. She overwhelmed his senses to the point it almost became unbearable. Her touch singed his skin yet calmed his mind down to the point he could tune out everything else and just focus entirely on the woman atop him. Sight was overrated. He didn’t need to see to know the way she moved was graceful in itself. Everything she did, she did with passion. The rolls of her hips were angelic. With her head thrown back, sweat and tear all over her face, she was the most beautiful person he’d ever come across. He could feel every inch of her, smell her, taste her. The whole wide city disappeared in the wake of her existence.

She was his salvation. He was drowning.

“Matt,” she sighed. His name rolled sweetly over her lips like she was singing him to sleep.

He squeezed his fingers around her pulse point. The pressure caged her in, sending moons across the stars in her galaxy. She reached for his wrist, not sure if she wanted to keep him or push him away. The tingling traveled from her stomach into every last crevice of her being.

He twitched inside of her. His muscles tensed. She rolled against him again, chest to chest. Hard nipples brushed against each other.

She dove in for a taste. Sweat had nestled into his stubble. Air was overrated. She kissed him until her lungs had nothing left to give. Until there was no other way but to swim back to shore to take a deep breath.

They’d fucked before. They had sex before. They’d done a lot of things. Whatever this was though, it counted as neither. Time was of the essence. Not too little, not too much. Just the right amount of time, simply savoring each other, getting to know each other as much as humanly possible in the most intimate sense. Subconsciously, they’d both been carrying way too much pressure. It showed in the way they craved each other. Starving animals in the middle of the desert preying for sustenance.

She scratched her nails through the hairs on his chin, leaving red marks down his throat. He groaned ever so softly into the depths of her mouth.

“I love you,” she said. His name came in serial moans. She breathed hard, heavy. Lost all sense of space and time, as if she couldn’t even believe it herself.

Matt tasted the salt on his tongue, wet strains of tears carried from her drenched cheeks to his. She was crying, whining, begging, and as lovely as it was to hold her like this, the words were the last straw to destroy his composure completely.

“I love you.”

He flipped her over like she was a doll, easily handled, thighs opened to grant him the space he needed to get between them. All the while his hand remained on its throne around her throat.

She moaned. The red lights of the billboard shone at him from behind, fading into hues of purple and blue with each thrust. His hips brushed against her clit every time he dove forward, hard and relentless, deeper and deeper. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. The lights became a distant memory. Nothing mattered but the hot pressure inside her lower abdomen, his weight on her, the twitch of his cock against the spot inside of her at the same time he brushed the spot outside of her and all eventually just became too much.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he demanded. “Look at me!”

She forced her eyes open. He loved it when she looked at him, vulnerable, exposed. And though she tried hard to obey, his pace made it almost impossible to keep her eyes open long enough. Not much longer and the only was about to snap.

“Who do you belong to? Who’s making you feel good?”

“You,” she gave him the answer he wanted. “Always you.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Me, only me. You’re-“ he thrust his hips forward, “Mine. Mine.” he dug his teeth into her shoulder.

She sobbed. It was too much. Too good, too much. Her entire body was on fire.

“Matt, please.”

Waiting for permission, anything.

Fingers intertwined above her head on the armrest. She clawed onto him. His hand traveled down between their bodies, catching her clit just right between his fingers. Just a little more. Circles and triangles and more circles.

“All of this is mine, understood?” his face buried in the valve of her breasts. “I’m so in love with you,” he said. “So fucking in love with you.”

The Billboard outside exploded in fits of color. The coil snapped. She gave up the little control she had left, clinging onto him, shocks of pleasure wreaking havoc. Her pussy clenched around him. It was tight, so tight, and she kept him there until she could milk all he had to give her.

Matt stiffened. His mouth stayed open in a silent moan. Sound only came back to him once he came, hard. All the pressure from the week before unloaded and he fell on top of her, moaning, panting. His body vibrated with the aftershocks. The heat inside of her walls sucked him in until every last drop was spent, dripping along his softening shaft, out of her.

The world stood still.

“I love you,” the admission blew hot against her sternum. Her hands raked through his hair, holding him.

She sighed blissfully. “I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Matt was a sensitive person after sex. During, he took control. He hardly left her any time to breathe or think. After though, the world came crashing back in, his senses so overwhelmed by everything, he just needed someone to ground him. His mind wasn’t back yet, ears rushing with blood and every nerve in his body straining. The only thing keeping him sane was the beating of her heart against his ear.

Not sure if she could trust her legs just yet, she gently rolled them over. “Come on,” she whispered. “I’ll clean us up.”

He lay there, eyes directed at the ceiling. Her warmth disappeared only to be replaced by a lukewarm washcloth on his stomach.

She helped him out of his pants. The cold air of the apartment eased the burning.

He had regained most of his consciousness by the time she laid back on top of him. The sofa wasn’t spacious and for the first time, he was glad there was no space for her to move anywhere but his bare chest. The skin-to-skin contact made the sudden awareness less unbearable. He needed to focus on the feeling of her. He needed to remember what it felt like to breathe.

She traced patterns on his skin. Eventually, she asked, “You okay?”

“Thank you,” he said.

“You know, I love you too. More than anything.”

“I know.”

“I’m in love with you,” she looked up at him. “I don’t just love you, I’m in it. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He couldn’t help it. “Oh,” the tears flowed freely.

“Hey-“

Matt choked out a laugh. “You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said. "And I don't even know why I'm crying because I'm not sad, I'm happy."

Her eyes softened. She touched his cheek gently. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, kissing her palm, down to her wrist, and back up.

“I was thinking,” she broke the silence.

“Dangerous,” he muttered.

“Hey!” she slapped him only slightly, but it was enough to make him groan.

“I was thinking,” she began again. “How about, you and I,” her fingers traveled down his exposed chest, “take the day off tomorrow, stay in,” she kissed his throat, “and have absolutely filthy sex everywhere in this apartment until I can’t walk anymore.”

He moaned. “That won’t be so hard,” he said.

Needless to say, he didn’t buy any kitchen supplies that day, the day after that, or the day after that. Truth be told, she never got the chance to buy them.

“We can start today.”

The second they stepped into the shower, her chest was pressed to the cold tiles as he took her from behind.

Even if she’d wanted to, the throbbing between her legs the next morning made shopping for something as useless as kitchen supplies an impossibility. And as she sat on the kitchen counter in the morning, back arched with his head buried deep between her thighs, she realized she wouldn’t regain feeling in her limbs anytime soon.

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