#closed off!reader

[the-whispers-of-death]

Closed Off!Reader

This is a masterlist for all of the Closed Off!Reader Drabbles. This reader is gender neutral and with Simon "Ghost" Riley.

Ghost Slowly Gaining Your Trust

Ghost Taking a Bullet for You

You Going to Ghost in the Night

You Confessing Your Feelings to Ghost

This is a complete list and will most likely not be expanded upon!

[aweina]

cold morning ; sub-zero ( suggestive ) ⋮ check out my other mortal kombat blurbs here <3

the morning after sex with bi-han is quiet. he keeps some distance from your sleeping, nude body — listening to every peaceful sigh that escapes your lips. he watches you closely, the love marks he left on your skin bloomed like purple petals — a reddish hue stained around your neck. the events of last night play in his head vividly. blissful tears running down your cheeks, his grip so tight he remembered how you desperately begged for air, and your sweet, obedient responses that swelled his ego. bi-han tiredly steps out of bed, tucking you more into the warm covers as he runs a hand down his back, silently wincing at the burning scratches you left during that night. before he could take another step, he feels your small arms wrap lazily around his thick waist, face squished against his vertebrae. you mumble something incoherent, using all the leftover strength you have to pull him back into bed. bi-han quietly accepts, moving into the soft covers like before. bi-han deeply sighs when you close the gap as you comb your fingers through his long black hair, planting a kiss on his tense shoulder. his grandmaster duties can wait later on the day.

[hungharrington]

something about teasing steve in public to the point where he's just flustered and so whiny and can barely keep a conversation... aaah

MMMM ANON U ARE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE 

it won’t even be your fault in the beginning, he’s just a little more keyed up than usual - a steamy dream of your lips stretched around his cock that felt a little too real, had him squirming in his sleep— and worse is, he slept later than usual because of it so he hadn’t even been able to get out of his system before heading to work :( so yeah, his hormones might be flowing a little easier today but steve is fine! he’s fairly confident that the boring lull of his solo shift is precisely the boner killer he needs. 

except, of course, you decide to visit him— because you’re so nice to your boyfriend! and somehow, it’s like you manage to look actually mouth-watering today, like steve does a double take when the chime of the door goes off, head looking up twice and it’s like a visceral reaction, a pulse of heat that runs through his body. steve out right groans a little bit, covers his face with his hands for a moment and then runs them through his hair. you’re frowning a bit because what kind of welcome is that? and steve’s like “no no! not like that!” but fuck, wait those shorts you’re wearing are quite short— showing off your thighs sinfully and steve actually can’t control how he eyes you up and down unashamedly, tongue darting out to wet his lips — you clock the horny in him in a second

“my my, what’s got you in a such a mood today?” you ask, an elbow meeting the front counter as you lean on it, but you might as well be purring the words to steve- the way you just read him in an instant does not help all of the morning’s unforgotten feelings from crawling back into his body— steve groans aloud again when he feels his dick twitch in interest in his pants. 

“don’t,” he warns, jabbing a finger in your direction as his other hand as subtlety as he can readjusts his pants, “i was already nearly late to work because of you!” that makes you frown a bit in confusion, moving to round the counter to properly greet him since it’s so quiet in store- you plunk down a bag containing some lunch of him that you’d brought with you. steve arms are waiting and twine around your waist as your sling over his shoulders and round his neck, a sweet embrace with his back to the door. you smirk up at him just a bit, “late because of me? and how did i manage that all the way from my own home?” 

steve glances at the front door, dutiful in checking there’s no one coming, but even so his voice drops a bit quieter when he says, “you… i had a dream about you.” his face manages to get a little warmer, given away by the colour in his cheeks, and if you weren’t clued in before you definitely are now. steve’s funny about dreams, even though you assure him you’re quite flattered he searches for you even in his subconscious— but he always admits them a bit shyly, like you might react badly.

“a dream?” you echo, slithering your hands from around his neck down his chest purposefully — and steve shivers at the motion. before he gets a moment to tell you knock it off, you’re speaking first, hands travelling to trace over his tummy, “what sorta dream?” you ask, even though you know. steve glares at you because he knows it too. he glances out the front window again and speaks in a hushed voice when he turns back, “y’know,” he says, face somehow growing redder. “like a… a sexy dream,” 

and that makes you laugh a little bit, because how can he be so good at dirty talk in bed and still call it ‘a sexy dream’ like a 13 year old? you’ll never know. all you do know is that you’ve decided mischief is what you’re after today, hands slipping under his polo to scratch lightly along his v line — and it’s enough to make steve’s breath stutter. “what are you—?” he asks, his hands around your waist beginning to move, like he might seize your torturous hands. “what happened in the dream?” you ask instead, cutting him off. you pair your question with a hand that runs down his front, not at all subtle with the way you brush against his cock. it shoots a thrill through you to feel he’s already half hard in his pants- your hand ends up atop his thigh, fingers rubbing the sensitive inner part of it as you ask him again, before he can catch up, “what got you so worked up, stevie?” steve’s eyes scrunch closed, whether from the memory of the dream or your inching higher hand— the other stays on his tummy, thumbing light circles on his happy trail. 

“you-“ he starts, cutting himself off with another little shiver. one hand leaves your waist like he’s going to grab your own but you’re already trailing further up, beginning just lightly palming him through his jeans - and his hand just hovers instead, clenching into a fist. his gaze has moved to watch your hand work him intently “fuck, wait,” he says, breath a little heavier than before. “you— you were,” he’s scarlet in the face by this point, words getting a little weaker. you properly rub him, curling your fingers around what you can feel and giving it a good squeeze and steve audibly swears, some pathetic noise escaping his throat before he can stop it. 

“you gotta stop,” he manages to exhale through a jagged breath, even though his hands stay exactly as they are, flexing through his pent up hormones. “it’s— someone could…” he trails off breathily as you dip your thumb beneath his waist line as you give another delicious rub along his cock, enough that another strangled pitiful noise comes from steve’s mouth, along with a whisper of your name. you can’t tell if it’s lucky for him or not that nobody has come into the store in the time you’ve been toying with him. you pout exaggeratingly, “but you didn’t even tell me what happened in the dream?” 

you choose that exact moment to retract your hands, pulling back just a bit and standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his scorching cheek. steve’s blinking, confused by the whiplash of suddenly having so much touch turn to none but you’re already rounding the corner— “you’ll have to tell me later, i guess! enjoy lunch, baby” and he’s like stammering, turning in time as you approach the door and barely get out his own goodbye before you’re gone, the bell chiming as you go. steve huffs, taking one glance at his pants and resigning himself to spending the next hour pressed against the counter and not moving at all. “little minx,” he curses, tugging his collar away from his neck to try cool off even just a bit. he swears that is the longest shift he’s ever worked - but can’t even be too mad about what you did, considering you were well & truly waiting for him when he came home, ready to bring his dream to life 

[ghost-likes-drawing]

Something something... Fitpac... Fireflies...

"Firefly..."

[hyperfixiation-station]

Guilt-Tripped Pt.2

TW: Canon-typical violence Part 1 part 3 Pairing: Ghostxreader(ish) Summary: The mission does not go according to plan

Wc: 1758 A/N: The fights scenes are fast-paced/rushed intentionally, I was trying to give off the feel of combat, if it did not work please let me know and I'll fix it :)

You were off your game, that much was clear. Not only was this mission located in your mother country, but the base you were clearing was one you had been “trained” in. You were anxious, and you knew Ghost could tell. But, true to form, he did not pry. That was one of the reasons you liked him. Everyone else would have asked questions but Ghost didn’t. He respected your privacy, understood that not everything is meant to be shared.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Solid. Moving in.”

“Copy.” You unsling your gun from your shoulder, following Ghost into the abandoned building. You cover his six as you clear the building, finger hovering over the trigger of your gun. The ghosts contained in the walls were dogging your footsteps, begging for you to turn and listen to them.

“Again”

“You’ll break them.”

“Only the weak.”

“No, please!”

“Do it again!”

“Do not defy me.”

“Again.”

“Y/N.” You snap back to attention, “Buildn’s clear.”

“Ay. Let’s look for the intel then.”

“It’ll go fas’er if we split up.”

“Ah…I guess.”

“Stay frosty.” With that Ghost heads up the stairs, leaving you to pray he doesn't find anything he’s not supposed to. You take a deep breath and turn away, searching the rooms more intently this time, on the lookout for files and a USB drive instead of hostiles.

The first room has nothing, just some rotting pieces of wood that used to be furniture. Still, something about it leaves you feeling deeply unsettled. You step out and head to the room across the hall, your hairs standing on end. The second room is basically the same, as are the third and fourth. And fifth. And sixth. After the final room reveals nothing, you head upstairs to help Ghost.

The stairs creak under the weight of you and your gear, the sound adding to the already eerie atmosphere. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to walk through the hallways that haunt your nightmares.

Ghost is in the first room you come to, his face lit up by a computer that somehow is still working. Alarm bells ring in the back of your brain, but you ignore them, instead focusing on the video that is playing.

“Again.”

The video is grainy, but you know the scene well. 3 girls stand side by side, guns in hand.

“Again.”

They drop to the ground, legs swinging around before standing.

“Again.”

They fire simultaneously, one loud gunshot echoing through the room.

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Aga-

The video cuts out, but you still see what happened next.

“-in.” You are faster this time, the girls next to you running out of stamina. You had been at this for hours, a constant stream of crouch, stand, fire, reload. You drop into a crouch, sweep your legs around, and come up, you and the girl to your left firing at the same time. You don’t even flinch as the girl to your right is dragged away.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload.

“Again.”

Crouch, stand, fire, reload. And once again, you are faster. The girl to your left is dragged away, leaving only you. Your palms are blistered and your knees are torn open, but you won.

“Y/n.” You stare at the target in front of you, breathing hard.

“Y/n!” You raise your head, searching for the woman in charge of your training. Except the voice calling for you is male, and…British?

“Y/n!” A hand touches your shoulder and you don’t think, just react. Your gun is buried between the persons ribs before your vision even clears.

“Fuck. Ghost I…fuck. I’m s-fuck.” You stagger back, blinking hard as you holster the weapon. Ghost has his own weapon trained on you, though his finger is not on the trigger.

“What in th’ bloody hell was that?” He hisses. You inhale, exhale, and shove your emotion down where they won’t bother you.

“I am sorry.” You say softly, “I zoned out and you…scared me.” He doesn’t say anything in response, just grunts and shakes his head, holstering his gun. You hold your breath as he stares at you with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

“We'll talk when we get t’ base.” He says finally. You nod, fingers trembling as you follow him into the next room. You hadn’t noticed when you were clearing it before but the rooms up here are much more preserved. This room is empty, save for a barre attached to the wall, the one way mirror above it shattered into a million pieces.

The girls dance in unison, repeating the moves over and over and over again. Your tutu makes your skin itch, and your toes are bleeding from the hours of non-stop practice. Still, you don’t complain. Even at seven years old, you know better than to voice your sorrows.

“Good y/n. Again.” Legs burning, feet aching, skin itching, you begin the routine again. You bring your leg up but your ankle rolls, your form wobbling.

“Oh y/n. I had such high hopes for you.” Your body is thrown across the room, stars dancing across your vision as the acrid smell of smoke fills your senses. Wait…smoke?

“Y/n!” You inhale sharply, looking up at Ghost. But he’s not there. In his place is an aging man with a road face and short beard.

“Dreykov.” He’s older, much older, but you would recognize him anywhere. You look around the room, trying to find any sign of Ghost. The simple movement sends waves of pain through your skull, makes your vision blurry. But you've operated in much worse condition before.

“Where’s Ghost?” Your voice sounds oh so far away.

“Hello to you too darling.” You shiver almost imperceptibly at his voice, “Why don’t you use that pretty little head of yours and tell me?” You can barely hear him over the high-pitched whine bouncing around your skull. Oh, right, your ears are ringing. Ringing, why are your ears ringing? You blink hard, taking in your surroundings. The room is filled with smoke, the remnants of the outer wall scattered across the room, the result of an explosion. Something sticky trickles down your face, dripping into your eyes as you put two-and-two together.

You and Ghost had walked into the room, you’d been violently thrown into a flashback, and while you were off in la-la land, Dreykov must have blown through the wall. But that still didn’t explain where Ghost was. You inhale slowly, trying to focus your vision. And-there! You spot a hole in the floor, and the only thing you can think is that Ghost fell through.

Later you’ll blame it your disoriented state for forgetting he was there, but really you just didn’t want to face Dreykov alone. You leave him in the room, leave him to escape with the intel you'd come to collect, and sprint down to the first level to find Ghost. You jump over fallen bits of ceiling, dodging debris as the building slowly falls apart around you.

Ghost is prone on the ground, a Widow prowling around his body. They always did like to play with their food.

Without thinking you launch into the fray, tackling the Widow over his back. It is a short but intense fight, serving as a distraction as Ghost forces himself up. It ends when she throws a sloppy punch towards your face. You grab her wrists, yanking her forward and sweeping her legs out from underneath her. She hits the ground at the same moment you unload your weapon into her chest.

“You always did think you were better than us.” You spin around as you reload, swaying slightly as your vision blurs again. Another widow, one you failed to notice, stands behind Ghost, a gun pressed at his head.

“I did not.” Your voice is calm and even, not betraying your inner distress as your eyes dart around the room as you try to find a way to get her away from him.

“Yes you did.” The widow snarls. She draws another weapon, slamming the butt of it into Ghost's skull with startling force, leaving him to collapse like a ragdoll.

“We were always second best, always the ones punished, always the ones in trouble. Nothing compared to you.” You begin to circle each other, your eyes trained on the gun she has aimed at you. The motion makes you sick, and you can’t hear anything over your focus on staying awake.

You blink, and suddenly the widow is in front of you. Just as she wraps her finger around the trigger Ghost, who'd be faking his apparent unconsciousness, tackles her. You can see how the scene will play out, and it doesn't end pretty.

You throw yourself at the Widow Just as she plants her gun in Ghosts chest, sending both of you flying across the room. She ends up on top you so you buck your hips, sending her flying forward. You're moving on pure instinct at this point, to dizzy to think.

You wrap you arm around hers and swing your leg over her side, using the momentum to flip positions so that you're on top. You draw your firearm, but are a millisecond too slow.

She flings you off, your skull bouncing of the pavement as you fall to the side. You manage to keep a grip on your weapon but God's does your head hurt.

You blink yourself back into awareness, coming too just in time to watch Ghost grapples with the Widow for he gun. Ghost may be good, but the Widow is great.

You are too dizzy too see straight, but that's no problem. The Institute had made sure you could shoot a target blindfolded, so you close your had around your 9 mil, raise it front of you, and fire.

You are awarded with a female cry of pain, a thud, and silence.

"You...solid?" You wheeze, gun still held tight in your hand.

"Aye. Y'...y' no' lookin' t' gud there." You can barely hear him, swaying slightly where you stand. Gods your head hurts.

You step forward, practically collapsing into Ghost. You can feel his heart beating rapidly, and you think he's talking to you, but you can’t hear him. Though blurry, your eyes are drawn to the Widow laying in a pool of blood, her brown hair pillowing her head.

It makes you sad, almost, to see someone who didn't get saved. Survivors guilt is what your court-therapist had called it. You thinks it was a load of bullshit but it's not like...is she moving?

You flip around Ghost without thinking, unloading your weapon on the Widow just as her bullet pierces your flesh.

tbc

Tell me what you think!!

@greatkittencloud

[bakubunny]

dabi grins as he stares at your open, drooling mouth and back into your eyes. it makes you let out a pant and blush harder, makes you squirm under the touch you crave so much. “c’mon babydoll. you can do better than that, can’t you?” he taunts. you’re sitting on his lap. he’s got one hand around your jaw as the fingers of the other are sliding messily between your lips. the feeling of his gaze, the way his fingertips almost make you gag and feel so perfect running over your tongue, how easily they fill your mouth because they’re so much thicker and longer than your own…. all of it makes your skin burn hot. dabi glances down and watches as drool starts to run from your chin and onto your shirt. “‘s it, whore. show me how pretty you’re gonna look when you take my cock.”

banners by: @roseschoices @cafekitsune

[stevenose]

I’m thinking silly little thoughts about cowboy Steve taking you to this little secluded lake he found on a horse ride the other day when it’s a blistering hot day and he’s leant up by a tree trunk and gnawing on a piece of dry grass watching you in the water with a linen singlet and underwear on, and you’re trying to get him to come join you but he says he’s “enjoying the view from right here darlin’” and you get a bit more playful and start teasing him and taking your singlet off your shoulder and saying “oh but it’s just so nice and cool” and he starts smirking and saying things like “be careful now, you’re gonna get in trouble” but also adjusting himself slightly and you catch on and pull your singlet right off and the boy just boosts it right to you to teach you a lesson about public nudity

oh he’s SO torturing your tits when he gets over there. because if you want them on display for him so damn bad then he’s gotta be able to play with them, too, right? he’ll sit you on his lap and keep you still with his hands while his lips and teeth have their way with you. makes you keep your hands behind your back because they’re wildly distracting when they’re in his hair. and you know not to mess his hair up, don’t you, darlin’? or does he have to teach you your lesson about that, too?

[adastra121]

So…how likely would Leander do that thing Zeus did, and trap you in his consciousness forever because he won’t let you go?

[aerkame]

Eye of The Beholder [part 1]

I think my body is trying to tell me I had too much caffeine and sugar today.

As always I'm doing an everyone x reader because I always do. (This is just part 1 though, so that comes later) This should be expected by now. Everyone will be loved and you can not stop me. *simp snarl* Okay I'll chill out it's fine. It's all dandy. It's cool. It's alr. Credits: Mob AU belongs to Clownsuu (I am assuming they're alright with this?) Welcome Home characters belong to Partycoffin

Notes: Reader is a firefighter puppet (this takes place in a puppet world duh), I had to do quite a bit of research.

__________________________________________________________

Heavy smoke pushed against the mask that protected your face as the wood beneath the creaked with each step. You had to be careful not to rush, any one of these boards could be loose and the ceiling looked like it was ready to cave. A loud crack sounded from somewhere upstairs, never mind taking it slow. You have to hurry now.

You dashed past the broken elevator just as a board fell from the ceiling. One hand firmly gripped the axe face down and the other grabbed the railing as you made your way up the stairs making sure to check the surroundings every few feet. Each step felt exhausting with the weight of the coat on your body and cautious steps that had to be taken lest you fall into the growing fire in the lobby. The temperature became hotter the higher you went, it was almost unbearable by the time you made it to the 4th floor.

The rest of the team and the captain had yet to make any contact and it was beginning to grate on your nerves. You suspect the reason why, it was the same reason this hotel went up in flames to begin with. Hell, that mob fight was still probably going on despite this spreading fire. Heaving as the oxygen became tighter, you prepared to cut the door down, raising the axe at a good angle before swinging.

Chips of charred wood fell away bit by bit until there was a clear opening to step through. Two figures lay in the room surrounded by burnt belongings and cases of unidentifiable liquids, they must have been doing something shady or possible mob activity. That would explain a few things. You shook your head to clear your already foggy mind. Nothing else mattered right now though, you found the missing persons and now you needed to make sure they made it out okay.

You wished you had backup.

The grey man was easy to pickup but you were beginning to worry about the other unconscious man. Both were larger than you, but you were stronger, you can do this. You tried a second time, then a third time before managing to stand, having both the grey puppet and red-haired puppet over your shoulders. The axe was left behind, there should still be a clean exist through the lobby if you hurried.

The fire had spread far faster then you thought. The path you planned out was now littered with fallen beams and burning chunks of the ceiling.

Seeing no other way around this, you gently placed the two men down as you unlatched a pocket to bring out two trauma blankets, hurriedly wrapping both in the protective fabrics. The last thing you needed was either of their felt skin catching flame.

A quiet wheeze caught your attention.

The grey man appeared to be struggling to breathe, you unlatched your own mask to put it over them, keeping it close enough so the tank's hose wouldn't snap away. It was going to be okay, the exist wasn't too far.

You carried the two once more, this time with more difficulty, your steps became uneven and your breath was ragged, no longer having the mask to filter out the smoke.

It's okay you told yourself, you are so so close. You never noticed the red eyes that followed you.

Pushing through the burning and itchiness in your chest, you made it to the front of the building before stumbling out and falling to one knee, not wanting to hurt the victims still on your shoulders. Everything felt so heavy. It was so hot.

You flew into a coughing fit after placing the two men on the sidewalk and looked around. Your team nor your captain were anywhere in sight. They should have been here by now. Where was the truck? Where were the ambulance? You tried to stand but failed.

Another cough escaped and you fell to the sidewalk, clawing at your coat to get it off. Your head was hurting and you felt sick. It was too hot.

Your eyelids fluttered before everything faded to black.

______________________________________________________

One knee bounced over the other as the music playing in the background went on. The brightly lit 'Closed' sign in the front flickered.

"Sally, do you understand what exactly it is you did tonight?" The voice was monotone with an edge to it.

The yellow puppet made a nervous laugh, shrugging their shoulders. "I got the target and Frank n' Eddie managed to save the evidence?"

Wally clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You made quite the mess for what was supposed to be a clean job. Two buildings burned down and a firetruck blown to bits." His foot tapped impatiently. "And now the police have gotten themselves involved if only to appease the public." Glasses clinked behind the counter as the bartender cleaned quietly. Wally continued.

"You're lucky at least one firefighter made it into the hotel before it collapsed. Frank and Eddie wouldn't be here otherwise." His voice was dripping with venom, but he made no move to do anything.

Wally rested one hand over the other as he stared at Sally. "Now, I want you to make me a promise Sally. Do not ever use those damn explosives again unless it's already been discussed beforehand. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes boss!"

"Good."

He peered over the counter, taking a sip from the beverage in hand, swishing it around a bit. "Barnaby, did Frank get the identity of the firefighter?"

"Yeah, he said somethin' about a mask or whateveh. But he got the face and name after a bit of diggin'," Barnaby stared off to the side as he inhaled another breath from the cigar. "Should be easy to tie up loose ends this time around, as far as I know that firefighter was the only one who saw the cases in that room."

A grin grew on the boss's face. "Well then. As soon as Eddie and Julie are ready, he'll be the one to pick up the special package."

Sally may or may not have used an explosive during a deal at a hotel that caused a giant hole in the side of the building and started a massive fire...and she may or may not have accidentally blown up a firetruck and caused a roadblock.

Also dayymn, it only takes 2-10 minutes to suffocate from smoke. No wonder firefighters need masks and a whole tank on their back when going in.

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ( 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 )

( the past is gone ; the future is far away. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF? )

chara : dan heng fandom : honkai star rail quote cr : agust d a/n : he is just a little guy . also i've played for like 2 hrs i love writing abt men i love yet have no idea who they are

THE PAST IS A DESIRE DEMON / A DEVIL IN DISGUISE : INTOXICATING, ALLURING, AND EVERYTHING HE THOUGHT HE ONCE SURVIVED. THE PAST IS AN ILLUSION, A DREAM, A RECKONING : THE WOOL PULLED OVER ONE'S EYES, AN OBSCURE SMOKESCREEN, AND THE INABILITY TO DISTINGUISH WHAT WAS REAL AND WHAT WAS NOT IN MEANS OF COPING WITH WHAT WAS LOST.

the past is something dan heng cannot escape. journey after journey, battle after battle, the tides grow in their cruelty, threaten to drown a dragon in the waves of penitence. there is something that lingers in the strings of the heart-- a memory waning, the bitter taste of rust on his tongue-- how it anchors him so, prays for a downfall that one deems deserved.

the past is not something dan heng wishes to remember, but he does, anyway, because somewhere, there is the breaking of a seemingly cold soul that reminds him that even he cannot ignore his own humanity. defeat the spirit and it will return even stronger, suppress the sins of the past and they will return with even more hatred and anguish.

somewhere, he's drowning.

his vision fills with a clear blue-- tranquil. silent. forlorn. a clear blue, a violent storm, the harsh ebb and flow, then a muddled mess of blue and black. everything distorts, turns into white noise. he cannot see, cannot hear, feels his senses being stolen away, left in a limbo of uncertainty. something presses against his chest. something is pressing down and down -- a slow descent, the rapid rise and fall in attempt to breathe breathe breathe BREATHE --

dan heng cannot regain himself. he shuts his eyes, reminds himself that there is a way out of all things. composure and focus aligned, he controls his breathing. in and out, inhale and exhale. deep breath. there is a way out of all things. there is no need to be afraid. the pressure eases. the weight is lighter, but remains present, but the sway of the waters persists, and he cannot stabilize himself, find harbor and safety in the tides.

he opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is you. his head throbs, the floor beneath him far from comfortable. he cannot remember much, not really, recalls fighting beast after beast before seeing you in danger. he has always been a protector, a shield, but even then, he does not think his heart has ever raced so quickly in the desperation of guarding another. how quick he was, covering your body with his in order to save you from harm's way.

--ah. he remembers it all now. the way you cried out for him, that terrifying pain that engulfed his body, the quiet relief he felt when he realized you were okay, then the losing of himself and the welcoming of darkness.

you hover over him, concern etched all over your features, scratches and bruises adorning your face. your hand lingers on his chest, desperate. you seek comfort in the knowing of a beating heart, a weak apology spilling from your lips for about -- well, everything. dan heng doesn't quite understand it all-- an apology for shaking him so hard in means to wake him ( and maybe that's what it was, that weight, the strange instability in the tides. it was you all along, trying to pull your lover from the depths of the sea ). another apology for letting him get hurt, then another for--

his body hurts. his limbs ache, but he will be alright. he has to be. he smiles despite the panic and adrenaline that continues to rush through your bloodstream, and the mere sight means more than you could ever tell him. your words cut short, voice nearly breaking, and you cry the moment he places his hand over yours.

he does not speak of love so casually, finds that actions speak louder than words. in the way he squeezes your hand, utmost ardor found in blue hues, there is the silent confirmation that he is alright, that he's here with you.

"thank you." you whisper, and there are so many things you wish to say, but the words lodge themselves in your throat, heavy with the realization of what could have been. "thank you, dan heng."

you repeat this like a mantra unheard, the tears shamelessly spilling. he doesn't like the sight, feels the guilt rest on heavy shoulders, so he sits up, holds your hand a little tighter before he pulls you into a hug. how warm your tears are, he thinks, when you bury your face into the crook of his neck, and how grateful he is that you are able to share this moment, even if you are both injured. it doesn't matter in the end, he supposes. you are both alive and together, and that's all he needs.

"i won't leave you." he tells you. "you have me until the end."

[beanxiv]

more lmfao

NAGI X READER WHO be texting him dumb shit 😭 -🌷anon

warnings: petnames, smau!! fluff like always, it's my first time doing a smau so im not sure if i did this right 😭😭

note: THIS WAS SO FUN TO DO THANK YOU ANON FOR THE REQ

i feel like sei responds in two ways when u text him in ur dumbassery language,

he's just done with u and ur silliness

or two, he thinks it's amusing that u come up with said dumbassery and feeds into it

and three (no matter the instance he responds this way) he just texts you back with sm love u can almost feel it dripping thru the screen.

© beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is not allowed.

[the-whispers-of-death]

Closed off!Reader stumbling through the dark hallways of the base at night, you having woken up from a nightmare. You're desperate for some type of reprieve from your racing thoughts, some type of solace.

So you find yourself at the door of Ghost's barracks and with shaky hands, you knock on the door. He opens it and sees you, usually so composed and detached but now you're shaking like a leaf, your eyes wide with fear.

"Come here," he says gruffly and without hesitation, gently pulling you into the barracks. He leads you towards the bed, knowing that you're not going to be able to go to sleep without him beside you.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, trying so hard to try and pretend you're fine. "It was nothing."

Ghost shakes his head, cradling the back of your head. "No, nothing to be sorry for. We all get nightmares." He lays down on the bed first before gently pulling you down onto the bed with him. He gets you nice and comfy beside him, both of you now underneath the covers. "Close your eyes, I'm here. I won't let anything or anyone hurt you."

So you do. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of his heartbeat, letting it lull you into a deep sleep. And it's the best sleep you've had in months, side by side with Ghost.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[yuri-is-online]

You know how some characters have parallels whether to their classmates or side characters,Yuu deserve the same treatment.

I've had this idea for awhile but imagine yuu wasn't the only one summoned to Twisted Wonderland but one of the few to survive.What if twst was like the back rooms only yuu got dropped to somewhere more "stable",think if someone else got like dropped to like Briar Field imagine how scared they be.

Like twst in the Novel has a translation spell on it but only on the campus.But an older Earthling that somehow survived all the madness and confusion of a new world,along with being lucky enough to find another person like them.

But they hate everything in this new world the magic, the system,their values they're done horrible things to try to get home.

Now yuu has to defend what they hold dear,the need to go home or the care for their new friends.'Will you do whatever it takes to go home"

NOW WE ARE COOKING WITH GAS, I LIKE THIS!!! So I was thinking about this for a good bit and I have two ideas, but I think we need a name for this hypothetical person. Since Yuu is supposed to be (you) this other person is (not you). The two names I can think of are Noh (a play on "no" and a type of Japanese theater where the actors wear masks, which this character metaphorically will be) or Kuroko (stage hands in traditional Japanese theater who wear all black to suggest they are "invisible" which this character again is.) Of the two I like Noh better, so I'll use it for this post but I am open to critique.

Firstly, in line with what you originally proposed, if Noh got dropped in the forest somewhere, unless they already had survival skills they're going to end up dead pretty fast. Or if they get lucky, and you have suggested Briar Valley, a place notoriously unfriendly to humans, I could see things going south very quickly for them. This could be a good place for them to start their journey... but I had another idea. A horrid idea.

What if Noh arrived in Twisted Wonderland a year before Yuu did, but at the Royal Sword Academy? I know we like to talk about how they would be more considerate of Yuu's magiclessness... but that could be isolating in a way couldn't it? Yuu is considered different but equal to the NRC boys in a way. Noh isn't, there's no reason to enroll them as a student so they stay a weird sort of assistant, stuck in limbo with nothing really to do with people who are so blindly focused on the positive that they don't fully comprehend the spiral Noh is in. Noh has seen no overblots; all they have seen is the raw, painful reality of life for people without magic in a world that is increasingly focused on people that aren't them. And how painfully ignorant even the "nice" mages are.

When Noh hears about Yuu, they track them down. Unwilling to trust them at first, they don't mention their plans or their true feelings. They just want to talk about earth... for now. Concrete plans can come later once you both know just how little these mages are on your side.

They just want to go home... just like you... right?

[cannot-be-cyn]

me, engaging in other media be like:

[becca-alexa]

Baby, It's Cold

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re snowed in with no heat, so you suggest sharing body heat to keep from freezing - but how far will things go between you and Steve?

Word Count: 6.3K

Content Warnings: p in v sex, general smut, cursing, consensual touching

Author’s Note: feedback appreciated!! i don't have much experience writing stuff like this, and i figured practice makes perfect 💗

    It was a miracle Robin had managed to snag the cabin - who in their right mind would ever rent out an entire villa in the woods to a bunch of twenty-somethings? It was unheard of, or so she claimed, because none of them could get her to shut up about how well she'd haggled for the place, how she'd bartered with the owner over coffee and used her mile-a-minute voice to confuse them into signing off on them staying the weekend.

    The place was far, far outside of Hawkins, an urgently-welcome retreat for all of you after what had proved to be the most difficult year of your lives. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, you and Steve - you'd all made plans to meet up and drive over together; Eddie had given his van a well-needed tune up specifically for this trip, so that it could handle everyone and everything in one go. But, as was quickly - annoyingly - becoming the norm with your group, your plans fell through… sort of.

    "What do you mean, you're stuck in Indy?" Steve tried to keep his voice down as he balanced the payphone receiver against his ear, hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket as he braced himself against the cold. "Robbie, we've been planning this trip for weeks-"

    "I know, I know!" Robin hurriedly replied; you tried not to giggle too loudly as Steve rolled his eyes. "But Nancy had this thing she needed to pick up, and Eddie had offered to drive us, then Jonathan and Argyle wanted to tag along-"

    "What, so you didn't think to tell me about your little day trip?" Steve dragged a hand through his styled hair, shifted from one leg to the other, slapping a hand against his thigh in exasperation. Can you believe her?, he mouthed to you, biting back a grin when you shook your head.

    "Just go with [Y/N]!" Robin insisted - and in retrospect, you'd realize she'd insisted a bit too intently, but you weren't thinking of that now.

    What you were thinking of was how in Heaven's name were going to survive the entire three-hour drive up to the cabin, alone with Steve Harrington.

    Your best friend, your bat-wielding protector, the sole object of your desires - Hell, he was the only crush you'd ever had, and even after so many years, your affections for the man still ran as deep as ever.

    "Robin says they'll meet us at the cabin tomorrow." Steve asked, holding the phone away from his face as he turned toward you, head falling to the side, hair bouncing over his face. "That okay with you?"

    "T-That's fine." You reply with a nod, staring at the lock that had fallen over his forehead, and you prayed he hadn't picked up on how your voice had cracked.

    "You owe us, Robbie." Steve replied gruffly, but you knew there was no bite to his words. "Seriously this time."

    "Sure, sure! Whatever!" Robin hurriedly replied; from where you were standing, you could barely make out what sounded like Argyle… shouting at someone? "Drive safe!"

    "Rob-" The line went dead, loudly buzzing in his ear; Steve groaned as he all but slammed the receiver against the payphone, his brows furrowing as he began to lose himself in his thoughts. You took a step toward him, bridging the gap that'd been left between you; your fingers were soft as they brushed over his skin, trailing over the soft hair covering his forearm, pulling him out of his own head.

    "Steve, it'll be fine." Your voice was quiet, and you hoped it'd calm him down - the last thing you needed was Steve driving up a rugged, unfamiliar mountain upset. "We'll try calling again when we get there, okay?"

    He nodded, blinking at the warm smile you gave him - your smiles were always warm, always gentle, but every time he'd be graced with it, he'd remind himself not to get too excited.

    You smiled at everyone like that, he'd convinced himself, desperate to believe it were true, that the look of pure sunshine on your face wasn't just for him - because how could it be?

    It was, but that's another story.

    You walked to his car, your pace picking up to a jog as the bitter cold sunk through your clothes. Steve beat you to it, holding the door open for you.

    "Ever the gentleman, huh?" You teased, climbing into the seat and pulling the heavy thing shut behind you.

    Had you hesitated just for a moment longer, you'd have caught how Steve burned at your words, how he'd licked his dry lips nervously as his mind froze up, hands trembling as they fisted at his sides.

    You weren't the only one with a lingering crush.

    Taking a steeling breath, he walked over to the driver's side, hands cupped over his mouth as he shut the door, working desperately to stave off the chill biting at his fingertips.

    "Ready?" The car roared to life beneath his hands, the sound a welcome comfort ahead of your long journey; you cranked the heating up to the highest setting. Again, you smiled at him, fuzzy and soft; he smiled in return, and he pulled the car out of the gas station parking lot and onto the main road.

    You'd been driving for hours.

    "You find it yet?" asked Steve, glancing at you for what felt like the millionth time as you scanned the map creased and wrinkled atop your lap, your brows furrowed in concentration as you traced your finger over one of many wiggling lines.

    "There should be a road up ahead on the left…" You mumbled in reply, flipping the map upside down, this way and that. Should you have brought a compass? "Maybe the right…? No, wait, definitely the left."

    "You sure?" Steve asked hesitantly - he'd driven through more open country roads and empty spatterings of woods than he could remember; in the dark, he couldn't even tell he was driving uphill.

    "You don't trust my cartography skills, Harrington?" Your lifted your brow, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your pressed lips. "Take the next left, then it should be at the end of the road."

    "I trust you, but this baby's only got so much gas." You laughed at him, clear and pleasant, his smile widening at the sound of it. "Here?"

    "Yeah, turn here."

    The car jumped as it crossed off the main road and onto the dirt, leading up the side of whatever mountain you were on; Steve's hand flew out to hold you down before he could think to stop himself, and you clung to him as the jolting continued on, both of you only relaxing when the cabin finally came into view.

    And, boy, was it a view.

    "Robin got us this?" You exclaimed, gaping at the expansive cabin before you, eyes sparkling as Steve turned the interior light on. "This is amazing!"

    "It's a cabin." Steve shrugged, and your head snapped to look at him - he sounded… unimpressed? "What? I think it's nice." You rolled your eyes at him and climbed out of the car; he followed closely behind, insisting he carry your bag, ignoring your protests against it altogether.

    As though the outside of the cabin wasn't impressive enough, the inside was lavish enough that even Steve was taken by surprise. Two floors, six bedrooms, wall-to-wall log paneling, a massive fireplace across the main living room stocked to overflow with cut firewood.

    "'S it still just nice?"

    "It's really nice."

    The both of you explored the space, running from room to room, gawking at the luxurious kitchen and the equally-massive wraparound deck leading out from it. And, having taken in your fill, the two of you begin making dinner - rather, Steve was making dinner and you were relegated to chopping and slicing duty, the conversation between you lighthearted and teasing.

    Midway through your simple stir-fry dinner, seated in the kitchen, you were the first to notice the change in the weather.

    "Steve," You nudged him, and he gave you a questioning look, stopping mid-chew to look at whatever you were pointing at. "It's snowing!"

    "Huh." His brows furrow, his gaze dropping to nothing. "The weather report didn't mention snow."

    "It shouldn't be too bad, right?" You tried to reassure him - and yourself, too - as you followed his train of thought. "They'll make it by tomorrow, for sure."

    "Yeah, for sure…" Steve didn't sound too convinced, but you didn't push the conversation further. Seeing as how he'd made dinner, you volunteered to do the dishes. And, ever the good friend, he'd kept you company, even drying off and putting away whatever you'd finished washing.

    "Steve, I said I was doing the dishes…" You huffed, pulling the damp towel slung over his shoulder and giving his chest a light-hearted swat.

    "What, I'm not allowed to help?" He danced around you, snatching back the towel, and you swiveled around to reach him; he lifted the towel far above your head, well out of your reach, laughing as you tried to jump for it.

    "Steve Harrington, give that back!"

    "Just let me-"

    Stricken mid-sentence, the lights flickered.

    You froze - you both did, Steve's arm an instant vice as he held you against his chest. Neither of you spoke, neither breathed as you listened for the tell-tale sounds of danger, of an unholy nightmare resurrected. You buried your face into the solid safety of his chest, clinging to his shirt as his eyes scanned the room. Several painful, heavy minutes passed before you slowly began to feel him relax, his hold on you loosening ever so slightly.

    "Let me go check the power…" he mumbled, his reluctance palpable as he left you alone, all but running down the hallway to where he'd remembered seeing a breaker box. Throwing it open, he flicked through every switch, yet the cabin remained shrouded in darkness.

    Shutting the panel door, and rounding the corner back into the kitchen, he narrowly missed being hit across the eye by the empty vase you'd commandeered as a weapon.

    "Whoa! Watch the face!" He jumped back, falling out of your swinging range. "The power's out. Snow must've knocked down a line or something." He explained, voice assured, and you sagged in relief at his words, hands visibly shaking as you set the vase back atop the counter. Without missing a beat, Steve stepped toward you, taking your hands in his own, enveloping them, his touch silently pleading you to look at him.

    "Hey," His voice was buttery-soft, gentle in a way he only ever used with you. "There's nothing here. It's just us."

    You shake your head, swallowing dryly, your head falling to your chest as you steadied the erratic beating of your heart. "Y-Yeah, you're right."

    Steve nodded, calling forth every fiber of his being to let you go, to lose the warmth he'd found in your touch. Together, you'd made the most of things - you remembered seeing a box of candles in one of the closets, a pack of matches tucked away between them all, and in no time at all, the living room was bathed in the flickering, golden glow of over a dozen flames. You sat atop the supple leather couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you watched Steve light the logs in the fireplace.

    You were cold, your hands tucked against you, the tips of your toes already feeling numb - and from the way Steve rubbed at his arms, he'd felt it, too.

    "Should we… uh…" You tried to ask, your own embarrassment shriveling your words before you could get them out, hands shaking as you tugged anxiously at your fingers. "I-I mean, it's cold, and the fireplace-"

    You gave him an exasperated look, but Steve - bless his athletic soul - wasn't following.

    You groaned, dragging your hands through your hair as you blurted out, "We should sleep here."

    "On the floor?"

    "Yes, Steven, on the floor." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his shock. "We can take a couple blankets and make a bed. It'll be warmer here than in the bedrooms."

    Steve turned away from you, staring into the cackling fire. To you, he was considering what you'd said, his expression pensive, almost blank - to him, he was failing to quell his boiling panic at the thought of having to sleep with you… beside you? Whatever - either way, you would be much too close to him and he was not prepared. There were only so many rooms - and therefore only so many blankets - in the cabin, so he knew you wouldn't be able to make two separate beds.

    He had to sleep with you.

    "I-I mean, you're right…"

    You gave him a confused look. "...But?"

    Steve took a deep breath, turning back toward you, and he swore you could see the way his heart pounded in his throat. "No, nothing." He stood up, brushed off his jeans, tried for his best smile - which came through as more of a lopsided grin, but that's beside the point. "Let's get those blankets, huh?"

    Between the two of you, you were proud of the bed you'd made, cozy under the pile of blankets and pillows; splitting for a minute, you both readied for bed, changing into your pajamas, brushing your teeth in the kitchen - Steve sensed your lingering unease at being in there, so he stood closer to you than he normally would, his hand finding the small of your back as the two of you walked back to the living room.

    "Which side do you want?" You asked him, suddenly feeling shy at seeing him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants and an old Hawkins Phys-Ed shirt - and, unbeknownst to you, your clothes were having the same effect on him, your oversized shirt reaching your knees like an old nightgown.

    "Doesn't matter." He pulled at the drawstring of his pants, suddenly intent on looking everywhere but at you. "I'll sleep like a rock, anyway."

    You snorted a laugh and crawled into your side of the bed. "Yeah, and you'll keep me up all night with your snoring."

    "I do not snore!" Steve exclaimed, and you laughed even harder at him, obviously having touched a sore spot. "I don't!"

    "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Steve." He gave you a withering look, and you collapsed in a fit of giggles - nervous giggles, but he didn't need to know that. He shook his head at you as he crawled in under the blankets, close to you yet still keeping a respectable distance.

    "Candles stay on?" He knew what your answer would be, but he asked anyway, his chest tight as you nodded.

    "Unless it bothers you-"

    "Doesn't bother me, sweetheart." He froze, his breath catching - he'd overstepped. Called you the wrong thing, gotten too comfortable. He waited for you to shake your head, to roll your eyes at him and turn around.

    But, nothing came.

    Steve watched, hands itching from the ferocity of his fraying nerves as you nodded, quieter than usual, curling up on your side as you continued to face him. He laid on his side, toward you, hands bunching the blanket up to his face as he tried to relax - not that he'd be getting much sleep around you, but he could pretend, for your sake.

    Minutes pass, the soft sputtering of the candles a soft harmony to the loud, almost rhythmic cackling of the fireplace. Even in the muted light, you notice Steve trembling beneath the blankets.

    He was cold.

    "Steve?" you whispered, moving closer to him, the sudden drop in temperature making your stomach flip. "Steve, are you okay?"

    "Hm…?" His eyes are slow to open, his voice much more tired than it had been mere moments ago; he'd curled up tighter - you just barely felt how his knees were tucked up to his chest. "What?"

    "You're shivering." You continued to inch closer, your body all but touching his, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember how to move. "Why didn't you say anything?"

    "I was fine before…" he grumbled, shaking his head, his jaw clenched to keep you from hearing his chattering teeth. "'M fine, just go back to sleep."

    You gave him a hard-pressed look, gaze narrowed at the top of his lowered head; before you could convince yourself to do otherwise, you began to fumble about beneath the blankets. Steve cracked an eye open to watch, only to catch you flinging your shirt somewhere off to the side.

    He swallowed audibly, his mind racing - and crashing - as he felt your arms envelope him, your chest pressed to his with only the thin barrier of his shirt between you.

    "[Y/N], w-what are you-"

    "Body heat." Your answer came quickly, much to his surprise, your hands leaving smoldering trails as you rubbed them over his back. "You need to stay warm, Steve."

    He nodded, two thoughts about you dominating his mind:

You were much more selfless than you gave yourself credit for.

You weren't wearing much of anything under that shirt.

    He tried to think of something to do, something to say, but the unfiltered heat radiating off of your skin was too enticing, too overwhelming. He tried getting closer to you, chasing your warmth, but something felt off; something was holding him back.

    In a flash, he'd tossed his shirt aside, the aged fabric landing somewhere near yours.

    "Steve-"

    "Body heat, right?" God, he hoped he didn't sound too breathless. "We can keep each other warm."

    You weren't about to fight that logic, were you?

    He shuffled closer to you, arms settling loosely around your waist, the frigid feeling of his hands trailing over your bare skin sending a shiver through you. Between you, you'd moved your hands up - almost as a buffer, ridiculous as that seemed. But, now you were in a new predicament - your fingers wove through the matte of hair on his chest; you could feel each curl, each wisp as he breathed, your touch both featherlight and branding. His head fell to your shoulder, and his arms tightened over so slightly around you.

    "How are you so hot…?" Steve asked; his head shot up, and you were given an excellent view of the blush spreading up his neck as he quickly amended, "Warm, I mean. Shit, I- You're really warm. N-Not that you're not hot-"

    You giggled, the movement brushing your chest against his, pulling out a gasp from somewhere deep within him that he'd just barely managed to catch. "You're not half-bad yourself, Harrington." Feeling you relax, he tried to do the same, leaning further into you, the scent of your citrus shampoo lulling him into a pleasant sort of halfway-sleep.

    "Uh… H-Hey, Steve…?" He could hear your voice, distant and somewhat muffled, and he grinned against the comfort of your shoulder. "Steve, are you awake?"

    "Yeah…?" He peeled open his eyes, pulled away enough to look at you, confused for only a moment as he tried to follow the way your gaze flicked to the space between you - and when he did, he stopped breathing, his stomach dropping to his half-thawed toes as he sprang away from you, his scalding face clear in the candlelight, hands pressed tightly between his legs.

    "Shit! I- Goddamnit, [Y/N], I didn't… I swear, I wasn't-"

    You watched on, stunned silent as Steve worked himself into a whole-hearted frenzy, shaking as he desperately tried to explain away why he'd gotten hard sleeping with you.

    "Was that… is it my fault?" You couldn't help yourself - here you were, sharing a bed with the man of your dreams, who'd gotten painfully aroused with you in his arms. Your words were barely above a whisper as you continued, "Are you like that because of me?"

    Part of you wished you'd disappear, another thinking of what you had within arm's reach that could be used to tear your own tongue out because who in their right mind asks something like that? You stared at him, lip worried between your teeth, eyes catching the light like a million stars in the night; Steve realized he was at an impasse - you both were.

    It was now or never.

    "Yeah, I… I am."

    Nothing could have prepared you for his answer; you felt as though the floor had collapsed beneath you, turned to quicksand and swallowed you into its grainy depths.

    "Steve-"

    "I like you, [Y/N]."

    You couldn't help the gasp that tumbled past your lips, nor could you quell the sudden flood of tears swelling in your eyes. His words flew around in your head, dominated your thoughts, demanded every ounce of your attention.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    "[Y/N], don't… don't cry- Shit, I didn't…" He'd moved back to you the instant he'd caught the first tear, his arms wrapping back around you - he'd kept his hips turned away from you, the angle awkward, but you didn't notice. "C'mon, baby, I'm sorry-"

    You shook your head, your breathing hiccupped, stuttered as you wiped at your dripping face. To his surprise, you'd laughed, the sound as wet and sodden as it was bubbling.

    "Steve, I'm not… I'm not upset." You tried to tell him, reassure him, meeting his concerned gaze through glossy lashes.

    "But, you're crying-"

    You took his hand in both of yours, held it between your bodies like a tether between souls; he could feel your pulse through your palm, quick and solid and strong.

    "[Y/N]-"

    "I like you, too, Steve."

    He barely believed what he'd heard - you liked him? You'd reciprocated his feelings? The crush he'd been achingly, lovingly nursing since high school was… mutual?

    "Y-You… You do?" He hated how insecure he sounds, how hesitant and uncertain he was; you gave him another blinding smile, dropping your hands as you pressed your bare chest to his.

    "I do." You thank the Heavens above that your voice hadn't wavered - he heard you clear as day, the fluttering he'd feel whenever he was near you now a full-on avalanche of jittery emotion. "I… uh… I have for a while now."

    "Really?"

    You nodded, hiding your face into a lump of bunched-up blanket.

    "How long have you…?"

    "You first." You insisted, your stomach in knots at his shy smile.

    "Since freshman year, at least." Steve replied smoothly, his confidence returning in drips and splashes - it was better than nothing, he'd conceded. "Never thought you'd give me a chance, though."

    "God, I've liked you since, like, fourth grade…" You'd groaned into the blanket, goosebumps running over your body as you caught his soft exhale.

    "Seriously?" He couldn't believe it - you'd been hiding your feelings for him for almost a decade?

    How had he not noticed?

    You'd pulled your head up from the blanket pile just enough to look at him, and you both collapsed into a fit of nervous, giddy laughter, the little space left between your bodies shrinking away. Steve was the first to settle down, staring into the depths of your eyes with the look of a man drowning in his love; he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear as your legs tangled together, his rough and pleasantly scratchy against yours, and he waited for you to quiet down before asking, 

    "Is this alright?"

    His hands were at your hips, his thumbs running over the thin elastic band of your underwear. So elated were you, you'd almost forgotten about his… situation.

    Almost.

    Calming yourself, you shifted, slowly pressed your body to his - your hips firm against him - as you nodded, cheeks pink as his rock-hard length throbbed against your stomach.

    "[Y/N]?"

    "Steve, I…" You couldn't bring yourself to ask for what you'd wanted - but, God, did you want to. Lord knows you did. Your head fell to his chest with a quiet groan of frustration, but he understood all the same.

    "[Y/N], look at me."

    You lost yourself in the endless depths of his eyes, your only thought to keep breathing as he reached for your hand.

    "If you don't want to, tell me to stop."

    He watched every flicker of emotion on your face, every expression, every feeling play out in vivid detail; he brought your hand - so small in his own - to the throbbing between his legs, his eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your fingers around him, holding him through the soft material of his sweatpants.

    "God, Steve…" You whispered, giving him an experimental squeeze, your body sweltering with heat as he moaned - it was quiet, just barely louder than an exhale, but you'd heard it all the same.

    You had done that to him, brought him to this, and you ached for more.

    "Take it off." Your tongue poked out to swipe at your lips; he swallowed at the movement, every nerve in his body alight, aflame at the feeling of your hand around him. "Please."

    He didn't need to be asked twice.

    In a single movement, Steve pulled off his pants, chucking them somewhere across the room; you gasped as you realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath, naked as the day he was born.

    You looked at him, he nodded, and your hand was on him again.

    God, Steve thought, his head pressed to your shoulder, breathing heavy as you began to stroke him, it's never been this good before. All you'd done was touch him, and he could already feel himself begin to unravel, his stomach coiling with his building release.

    You stared down between you in open-mouthed awe, feeling the weight of him in your hand; he actually keened when you'd brought your other hand to cup him, pushing his hips into your grip, chasing more of your touch - of you.

    "B-Baby…" He barely recognized his own voice from how weak he sounded, his hand shaking as he wrapped it over yours, stilling your movements. "Baby, please, I… I can't-"

    Your hands flew off of him, raised up to your chest, a pang of fear seizing your chest at the thought of having hurt him. Were you moving too fast, your grip too tight? "Steve, I-"

    "No! No, sweetheart, it's… It's not you, I swear." He pulled you close, buried his nose in your hair, his voice quiet with embarrassment as he continued, "If you keep doing that, this'll all be over way too fast."

    You giggled at him, your smile broad and beaming as he moved away to look at you, going stiff in more ways than one as you brought his hand to your chest; he could feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath the softness, keeping pace with his own.

    What, like you hadn't heard about his boobies monologue from Robin?

    You felt his fingers twitch against you, desperate to squeeze, but he held himself back, restrained himself.

    "I won't break, y'know."

    God, you were going to kill him, he swore, shaking his head, a nervous grin stretching across his lips - and it was then that he paused, his hand stilling over you as the shameful realization dawned upon him.

    He hadn't even kissed you yet.

    Where's your game, Harrington?

    He'd gone shy on you again, you noted, feeling how his breathing turned slow and deep. "Steve?" You brought your face closer to his, hands at his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks as you urged him to look at you. "Steve, do you-"

    "Can I kiss you?"

    Your silence stretched out for what, to him, felt like hours. Had he pushed you too far, assumed too much? Was kissing too personal for you? His first instinct was to backtrack, to make amends, and he hurriedly mumbled, "I-I mean, it's fine if you don't-"

    "Do it, Steve."

    Your words were clear, demanding in a way that made him shiver in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he trailed his hands over the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him, his length trapped between your thighs.

    "You want me to kiss you?" He needed to hear it from you, needed you to say it, to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

    "Please."

    Of all the times you'd imagined kissing Steve, of daydreaming about what he'd feel like, nothing could compare to the real thing; you melted against him with a sigh, arms settling around his neck as you pulled him impossibly closer, every pore on your body screaming for this moment to go on, for him to kiss you like this forever.

    And for Steve, kissing you was a miracle - he'd long since resigned himself to wanting you from afar, to watching you from the sidelines, content with the way things were. He didn't think he'd ever gather enough courage to confess his feelings to you, terrified of losing one of the closest friends he's ever had. But, now?

    Now that he's tasted you, he's insatiable.

    He was the one to deepen the kiss, to lean into you, press his body against you, throbbing between your thighs and hissing as his sensitive head caught on the fabric of your underwear. You pulled his hands back to your chest, his tongue tracing over your lip as you pulled off the lacy thing and tossed it aside.

    Your kiss had started saccharine, gentle, coy, but it had devolved into something carnal, primal, fueled on by years of pining and longing and want.

    "[Y/N], can I…? Can- touch you?" Steve panted, his words beginning to fail him, his hair already damp with sweat as it fell over his eyes. You pull one of his hands away from your chest, biting back a moan at the feeling of his calloused palm dragging over your nipple; you guided him between your legs, your breathing labored, eyes clenched shut.

    When he touched you, you screamed.

    Painstakingly, sobbingly slowly, he worked you open, his pride growing tenfold as he felt how wet you were, how slick his fingers were quickly becoming as they moved over you - and all because of him. He brushed his fingers lightly over your clit, his touch barely a touch at all, yet it drove you nearly to the brink of insanity.

    "S-Steve…!" you cried, screamed, no longer caring about the volume of your voice as you ground your hips against his hand, fingers clawing at his back. "Mmm…! Fuck, Steve…!"

    "Talk to me, sweetheart. How's it feelin'?" The closeness of his voice, of his lips pressed to your ear did absolutely nothing to veer you away from the edge of ecstasy you were barreling toward. You could feel him circle a finger around your dripping entrance, teasing you, your body writhing atop the blankets.

    "S… Steve, please…!" You shook in his arms, your face buried against his chest as you begged him for more - and when he finally pressed his finger into you, you both moaned.

    You were so hot, so tight, around his finger, sucking him in, your velvety walls pulsing against him - he could feel his cock weep as he imagined what it'd feel like to be inside of you.

    "Hmm…! A-Ah- Shit, Steve, I…!" Your head began to swim, your breathing rough as he worked you, one hand holding you by the hip while the other thrust into you, his thumb pressing down on your throbbing clit all the while.

    "Where you at, baby?" he panted, his focus breaking away from the sinful squelching coming from between your parted legs.

    "'M close, Steve… Fuck, I- I'm so close…!" You threw your head back, your body arching off the floor as Steve's kept his pace steady, looking very much satisfied with himself as you fell apart in his hands; with a final, trembling moan, you collapsed, panting for air as the sweet thrill of aftershocks shot through you; absentmindedly, you could feel him slide in behind you, holding you against his chest, hands moving idly over your sex-warmed skin.

    Still, even in the rose-colored haze of your mind, you knew you wanted more.

    "[Y/N]?" Steve watched as you turned around in his arms, pulling him into a sloppy, wet kiss. It didn't take much for him to turn to putty in your hands, and he offered no resistance as you nudged him onto his back, legs straddling his hips. "Fuck, baby, I…" he breathed, eyes wide as his gaze moved over you in reverence - bathed in the candlelight, flushed from the bliss he'd given you, he swore you never looked so beautiful.

    You moved your dripping core over his cock hesitantly - unlike Steve, you had no prior experience to draw from. Did it feel good when you pressed down on him? When you sped up? Slowed down? You stared at where your bodies connected, not realizing Steve's eyes had clenched shut, sweat beading down his brow as he tried to keep himself from losing it.

    "Sweetheart, please, I…" Steve moaned, his hands leaving you to drag through his hair. "You're killin' me-"

    "Yeah?" you panted, pushing more of your weight down onto him, your heart soaring at the litany of curses that fell from his lips - and even a few that weren't in English. "How's it feel, pretty boy?"

    At the name, you felt him jump against you, and you swore on your mother's life you'd never seen him flush so red.

    It was as though the very room had gone still, the snow outside ceasing to fall, your breath catching as you lifted yourself off of him; holding him in your hand, you lined him up with your entrance, your eyes shut as you tried to calm your nerves, but you paused at the feeling of hands running over your sides, gentle and soft against you.

    Steve looked up at you, cheeks bursting with color as he held you steady, an unspoken question clear in his eyes.

    Do you want it?

    You nodded, your lips breaking into a smile as you kissed him - and all at once, you pushed yourself down, crying out at the feeling of him stretching you, filling you.

    He was big, and you were loath to admit that the rumors you'd heard about him all throughout high school were true - he deserved to be called "King Steve".

    You fell against him, shaking at the sudden intrusion as his hands soothed over your back, your waist, your thighs, your face, guiding you down onto him, whispering praises into your ear.

    "You're doin' so well, baby. You're so good to me, taking me like that… Fuck-!"

    You were struggling to breathe, face pressed against the crook of his neck as you waited for the pain to melt away - and Steve waited with you, peppering your face in kisses, his hands smoothing over your hair.

    "Do you want to stop?" he asked, his voice softer than silk, his concern washing away the lingering traces of your discomfort. You shook your head, biting your lip as you pulled away from him, wiping at the moisture clinging to the corners of your eyes.

    Steve felt his stomach drop. "[Y/N]-"

    "I'm okay." you reassured him, your voice all but gone, eyes fluttering shut as you settled back against his hips - he'd buried himself completely into you, the feeling of you enveloping him almost too much. He waited for you, for your sign that it was alright to move - because once he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

    You accustomed yourself to the feeling of him inside of you, thick and hard and throbbing. "S-Steve…" you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. "You can… You can move-"

    And you fell over when he snapped up into you, breaking out into fits of bright, sparkling laughter.

    "[Y/N]!" Steve couldn't help but laugh, too, feeling your walls squeezing around him. "Baby, you alright?"

    You nodded, still smiling as you threw your arms over your heated face.

    "Keep going, Steve…" you sighed, peeking at him from between your fingers - and his heart swelled, leaning over to kiss you stupid as his hips pounded into you, one of his hands moving down to your clit, rubbing you in time with his thrusts.

    He wasn't going to last - he knew he wasn't - but he'd be damned if you didn't finish before him.

    Your mouth fell open with a wanton moan, hands fisting the blankets at your sides as he gripped your hips roughly enough to bruise, his pace already beginning to falter. He kissed you everywhere he could reach, covering you in his love, his breathing coming out in grunts as he felt himself nearing his end.

    "Baby, I- I'm so fucking close-"

    "Steve, I- Ahh…! I can't…! Steve, please, I'm…!"

    And you reached your peaks together, screaming as you throbbed around him, as he painted you with his release, your bodies sticky as you collapsed onto the blankets, chests heaving for air as you floated back down from the Heavens.

    He was the first to speak. "You still with me?" Steve asked, still winded as he rolled onto his side, his hand moving up to roll a lock of your hair between his fingers - you still smelled like citrus, like sunshine and light.

    But now you smelled like him, too.

    You turned your head to look at him, eyes lidded, your grin blissfully lopsided as you kissed him - gently, sweetly, relishing the feeling of his chapped lips, of the warmth of his breath over your face. "I'm still with you, Steve."

    "Yeah?"

    "Always."

    He pulled you into his arms, his face pressed to your neck; you nudged yourself against him, exhaustion settling over you both like the falling snow.

    Before you'd drifted away, you heard his voice, quiet and meek as he whispered, "I love you."

    Your hands moved over his chest, and you kissed him one final time before falling into oblivion, your sigh of, "I love you, too." barely slipping past your parted lips, Steve chasing after you.

[sapphic-woes]

Showering with Sevika is something she doesn't do unless she really trusts you. At least, I think so.

Cuz she takes off her metal arm and she has a system yk. And she's used to doing everything herself, and maybe offering to wash her back, which you see as simply being intimate, might be seen as you offering to help her, and I think Sevika really struggles with relying on others, even if it in good faith. She might flat out refuse, or ask "why" in a very gruff, defensive manner, and probably the first time you shower together, while both of you are happy to be there...it's terribly awkward.

The next time, you don't ask, but you pass over the body wash, or you make a little poof of shampoo on your head–essentially, you leave her to her own devices and let her know that you simply are happy to be there with her. Sevika appreciates that. She values the silent understanding. The respect for her boundaries and how much she's willing to open up.

I think she offers to wash your back first.

You nod, you turn. You let her rough hand slide down the curve of your spine, snake around over your waist. There's a tension in the air, thicker than the humidity around you two. When she's done, you turn...and it's silent, the way you ask if you can return the favor.

This time around, she offers the body wash back to you with a nod.

She's stiff. You can tell from the tense muscle under your fingertips, and the way her jaw locks. You've touched her like this before, so many times, but this feels like stepping through a locked gate, and you're acutely aware of how quickly it can close again. You make no mention of her demeanor, only focus on the task at hand. Your touch is loving, accepting, and there's a sigh that flows through Sevika. She's craved this despite being so cautious about it. She wants you to know her just as much as she knows you.

After that, it's slowly being allowed more of her body, until showering together is just a regular routine. Mmm that's it. I just like this idea lmao.