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the-dork-urge · 4 months ago

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Slip Away ~ Aradin Beno ||BG3||

Last night had felt so familiar, like slipping back into the embrace of a long-lost memory—one where you were hopelessly, irreversibly in love with him.

Years ago, the two of you had stormed through Baldur’s Gate, reckless and wild, racing down cobbled streets in worn shoes, knees scraped from scaling rooftops. You’d escaped whatever or whomever together, bound to him in ways you didn’t fully understand then. And now, with time between you, that same pull lingers, as if nothing had truly changed.

You glance at him now—his bare form half-covered by the tangled sheets from hours ago. His body, marked with new scars from battles fought and journeys taken without you, tells stories neither of you have shared yet.

As he sleeps, his brow, usually furrowed with tension, softens, though never entirely. There’s always a guard in place, even in rest. His curls splay across the pillow, framing the face you’ve spent years remembering—still stirring something deep inside you.

You reach over and brush a stray curl from his forehead, letting your fingertips linger just a moment longer than necessary, savoring the warmth of his skin.

Leaning in, you place a kiss on his forehead—gentle, almost reverent. And in that fleeting moment, selfishly, you wish—more than anything—that he was dreaming of last night. Of this. Of the way everything felt when it was just the two of you again.

As you pull back, your eyes linger on his sleeping form—the rise and fall of his chest, steady and calm. You wish you could freeze time, hold this moment in its perfect quiet. But then, a chill runs down your spine.

You don’t want him to know—not yet—about the hurdles still on your horizon, the things you must face. So, you pull the blanket up around you both, curling closer to him, holding on to his warmth before the world inevitably reclaims you both.

For now, that will have to be enough.

Your friends and allies have gathered around, and tonight, the weight of the world feels lighter. Music fills the air—Alfira strums happily on her lute, while her tiefling kin dance in mostly drunken, stumbling circles. But there’s hope in their carefree joy, and you can’t help but smile as you sip from the bottle of wine you’ve been nursing. Scratch sits contentedly by Zevlor’s side, his tail wagging slowly as he watches the revelry. Zevlor stands at the edge of the group, his posture a quiet contrast to the carefree energy around him. He watches his people with a soft yet distant gaze, taking in the warmth and chaos of the night without ever truly letting go of his own thoughts. Scratch rests his head on Zevlor’s boot.

Astarion is in a heated argument with Gale about the best types of wine, Wyll has already slipped away from the festivities, and the rest of your companions have found solace in their own tents, content in their solitude.

And then, there’s him.

Aradin Beno.

It’s good to see him again after all this time—better than you’d ever imagined. But there’s a bitter edge to the joy, the unspoken wish that this reunion had come under different circumstances. When you were younger, you never imagined the paths your lives would take. Ten years have passed since you last saw each other, and in that moment, at the grove, when your eyes met again, something shifted in your chest. It was a simple glance, but it felt like the world paused, the years between you slipping away as if they had never been.

Your heart had raced in that moment, and every fight since, every battle you’ve faced, has carried a quiet fear beneath it—the fear that you might never see him again. Fear that the world might take him from you, just as it’s taken so much else. Now, with him standing across the fire, silent and steady, you can’t help but wonder if he’s felt that same ache, that same longing, since you met again.

You watch him, the flickering flames dancing in his eyes as he stares into the bonfire. Deep down, you know you can’t let this moment pass without saying something.

You call his name softly, letting it float across the fire, through the crackle of the flames.

“Aradin.”

You wait, breath held, until he looks up.

“Care for a drink?” you offer, swinging the bottle forward by its neck.

With a quiet nod, he steps around the fire, moving closer until he stands beside you. You offer him the bottle, and he takes it without a word, your fingers brushing briefly as he does.

He doesn’t drink immediately, just cradles the bottle in his hands, his gaze shifting back to the fire.

“It’s been a long time since we shared a drink, hasn’t it?” you venture, trying to steady your voice, though your heart betrays you.

“Ten years,” he says simply, still not looking at you.

The weight of those years hangs between you, thick and heavy, like the smoke curling into the night sky.

“I used to think about what I’d say if I saw you again,” you admit. “A lot, actually.”

“And?” he asks, his voice quiet, curious.

Your throat tightens, but you manage a faint smile. “None of it feels right now.”

“Technically, you’ve seen me a couple of times already,” he says, dry but light, almost teasing.

Right, you think—the Grove, the road. But those moments were different. Danger had always lurked, companions nearby, ears tuned to every word.

“This is the first time we’ve actually talked,” you clarify, scoffing softly. “Just us.”

His lips quirk into a faint smile, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours. “It’s harder than you thought, isn’t it?”

You laugh softly, the sound almost lost in the crackle of the flames. “A lot harder.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

“You look great, though,” he says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “You haven’t changed at all.”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a smile. “You haven’t either,” you reply, holding out your hand. He hands the wine back slowly.

You tilt your head slightly, teasing. “Your scowl’s just a little worse now.”

He grins, a familiar crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s a work in progress,” he mutters, his eyes softening as he looks at you.“Didn’t miss that,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He chuckles, his eyes lighting up. “So, you missed some other stuff, then?”

You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, but then you look at him, carefully choosing your words. “Maybe,” you say, taking a large sip. “You didn’t exactly leave my mind.”

“That’s good,” he says, staring into the fire, his voice calm, though the words carry a weight. Your chest tightens, not in discomfort, but in something close to relief. It’s satisfying, hearing that you weren’t the only one holding on to the past—that you hadn’t been forgotten.

“You haven’t exactly been easy to forget, either.” He shifts slightly, leaning in just enough that the space between you feels suddenly smaller, the air thick with something unspoken. His gaze lingers on you, before he looks away, as if searching for the right words.

“Do you remember that summer?” he adds, his voice quieter, the weight of the memory settling in.

You tilt your head, “Which one?”

“The rooftops,” he continues, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “That one night we stole that cheap wine. How we sat there, just...”

Your heart skips a beat at the memory—those careless nights spent talking for hours, just the two of you. It felt like the world disappeared. A smile spreads across your face. “Yeah, I remember. You kept complaining about the wine, but we both drank it anyway.”

He chuckles, mischief flickering in his eyes. “And you almost slipped off the roof, couldn’t handle any of that shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, playful. “I’m no lightweight anymore,” you tease. “I promise you that.”

You shake the bottle, the last bit of wine sloshing inside. “I remember us being so proud of our little hideaway,” you say softly, a hint of nostalgia in your smile. “Fuck, we had so much we were running from, didn’t we?”

“Too much,” he chuckles, and that old weight seems so small now.You glance at him again—really look at him this time. The way the firelight dances across his features, making him look younger, almost like the boy you once fell in love with. His eyes still hold that spark, but now there’s depth—something lived-in. Your heart skips again, a familiar flutter rising within you. You wonder, for just a moment, if it could be that easy—to slip away again, just like you'd done thiose years before

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer, almost daring. “What if we... run off together, away from this party? Just tonight, if you want to.”Something you haven’t had in years. Something you’ve been thinking about a lot.You wait for his response, heart pounding in your chest, hoping—praying—that the boy you once knew is still in there loving you like you still loved him.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #aradin #bg3 tav #aradin x reader #aradin beno

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the-dork-urge · 5 months ago

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First Kiss - Detroit Becoming Human P1

I'm like 6 years late to the party but that's alright Gavin Reed

The police precinct was nearly silent. The usual hum of phones and distant chatter had faded, and now only the clatter of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper echoed in the otherwise empty room. You glanced at the clock: 11:45 PM.. You had already finished your paperwork, and your bag was packed, but there was something that kept you from leaving.It was him.

Gavin Reed was hunched over his desk, scribbling something on a report, his brow furrowed in concentration. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast shadows across his face, making his usual scowl even sharper. You knew he wasn’t here because he wanted to—no, it was disciplinary work from the higher-ups. The latest round of paperwork, because of some screw-up he’d made.

You’d seen him like this before—rare moments when the tough cop façade cracked and all that was left was the man behind it, dealing with whatever shit he didn’t want to talk about.

"You really dont have to help me, you should pack it" he growled, biting on the end of his pen, staring at the screen before him. You paused for a moment, considering his words. You could tell he was exhausted, but he wouldn’t admit it, not to anyone. Not even to you.

You shrugged, playing it cool, even though you were well aware that he hated anyone seeing him like this, especially you. "I know," you said with a small smile, scooting your chair closer to his desk. "But I want to.'' ''Yeah, well, don’t blame me when you’re stuck here ‘til dawn," he shot back, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.You knew better than to take him too seriously when he was like this. You simply slid into the chair next to him, grabbing a random stack of papers from the desk, and quietly set to work. The silence between you both stretched on as you worked, the low hum of the precinct your only company. Every now and then, you glanced up, watching Gavin as he focused on his screen. His brows were still furrowed in concentration, the usual tension in his shoulders as he worked through the mountain of paperwork. You couldn’t help but notice the way he chewed on the end of his pen, twisting it in his fingers, back and forth, like he was trying to work out a problem that wasn’t on the page.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you looked at him.

You leaned back in your chair, try to focus on your own pile, the sound of you pen clicking against the table as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. The rhythmic sound seemed to fill the space between you, a constant companion to the otherwise quiet night.

Then, without warning, Gavin turned around, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Stop," he said, his voice rough but low, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

You blinked, pausing mid-click. "What?"

"The pen. Stop playing with it," he grumbled, shooting you a glare. "It’s annoying."

You raised an eyebrow, setting the pen down slowly. "Really? You’re gonna tell me to stop?"He didn’t answer, just gave you a look that made it clear he wasn’t messing around. But you weren’t backing down so easily.

"Well, you’ve been chewing on your pen for the last half an hour," you shot back with a smirk. "So if we’re comparing levels of annoying, you’re definitely winning, Reed."

He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with your logic. "It’s a habit," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can’t help it."

You leaned back in your chair, resting your arms on the desk. "Oh, I get it," you teased. "So, chewing on your pen is okay, but me clicking my pen is somehow an offense?"

He shot you a look, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he was trying to hold back a laugh. "You’re impossible," he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, well," you shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes. "At least I’m not munching on office supplies."

The corners of Gavin’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. You knew he wasn’t really mad—not with you. The banter had a way of making the night feel a little less heavy, a little more bearable.

"You’re lucky I like you," he muttered, turning back to his desk, a barely noticeable smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Otherwise, I’d have tossed you out of here by now."

"Sure," you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You’d let anyone in here just to help you get through the mess you got yourself into. Maybe even Hank."

He rolled his eyes at your jab, and you both knew it wasn’t true. Out of everyone in the precinct, you were the only one who’d actually stick around to help him.

"Fuck you," he grumbled, hiding a smirk as he returned to his paperwork, the pen back between his lips.

You couldn’t help the small smile that slipped onto your face. He looked kind of handsome like that, even with the pen in his mouth. You quickly caught yourself and cleared your throat.

"How about some coffee, huh?" you offered, hoping to change the subject.

He didn’t look up from his screen but gave a small nod. "Yeah, that’d be good."

As you stood by the coffee machine, waiting for the drip to finish, exhaustion settled in. It had been a long day, and the silence in the precinct made everything feel even heavier. The steady drip of the coffee felt almost meditative, and for a moment, you closed your eyes, leaning your palms against the counter.

Your mind wandered back to Gavin, as it often did when you were alone with your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder if it was obvious that you kind of liked him. And the truth was, you didn’t know if he felt the same way. He was always rough around the edges, sarcastic, and often a little too gruff, but there was a certain patience he showed you, a subtle kindness that made you feel like maybe he cared, even if he didn't say it outright.

In fact, there were moments—like when he'd bring you coffee without you asking, how he'd ask about your weekend and really seemed to listem, or the times his hand would linger on your shoulder as he passed by—that made your heart flutter. You'd caught him staring a few times, but he’d always quickly look away, as if he wasn’t sure what he was feeling either.

You couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he thought about you the way you were thinking of him now. But then, you shook your head slightly, trying to push the thoughts aside. After all, you didn’t even know what this was. You were just two tired cops in the middle of a long night, and maybe it was better to leave it at that.The sound of the coffee machine finishing its work broke your train of thought.

As you turned around to grab the mugs, you nearly jumped. Gavin had somehow silently made his way into the kitchen, standing just a few feet away, looking as if he'd appeared out of nowhere. ''Need something else.'' you asked, moving right by him to grab what you needed.

''Yeah," he said softly, and before you could react, you felt his hand gently wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

You tried not to focus on the way his hand felt against your skin, but the pulse racing through you made it impossible not to. "Thanks for staying," he said, the words hanging between you two in the small kitchen. y

You could feel his fingers slightly tighten around your wrist as if he was nervous about what he’d just said, but you weren’t sure. "I should’ve just said that right away... instead of being an asshole."

You looked at him, a genuine smile tugging at your lips now, the kind that felt different from the usual teasing.

"I know that, Gavin," you said softly, meeting his gaze. "You don't need to say anything."His grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but his hand didn’t let go just yet. He blinked, as if unsure of how to respond, then his voice softened.

"No, but sometimes I should," he muttered.

It was then that he seemed to realize his hand was still on your wrist. He quickly let go, a bit too hastily, and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping just for a moment.

"It's... it's good to say it, actually," he added, looking down at his shoes as if trying to avoid eye contact.

You couldn’t help but smike softly at how flustered he looked. Gavin Reed, tough cop, lost in front of you.

You lingered there for a moment, eyes still on him, your eyes now on the hand that had reached out to you. It had felt good, his fingers on your skin. The sound of the coffee machine’s little alarm started to blare again, its sharp beep pulling you back to reality. It was a reminder of the task you had come in for, but something—or rather, someone—had you rooted to the spot.

You weren’t quite ready to move away just yet. You glanced at Gavin, who seemed just as stuck as you,

You heard Gavin take a deep breath, and before you could even process it, he stepped forward. One of his hands reached up, tentative at first, then gently placed itself on your cheek. His fingers were warm, and he lingered there, just enough to check if you were okay with it, as if giving you the space to pull away if you wanted.

For a moment, everything stood still. Your breath hitched as you leaned in slightly, your gaze locked on his. You could feel the subtle shift in his energy, the tension that had built in the few seconds it took him to reach out, and then you heard him breathe out a quiet sigh of relief.

You moved forward, just as he did, closing the distance between you two. Your lips met in the middle, softly at first, a delicate graze that sent a spark of warmth through you both. You felt his breath against your skin. As you deepened the kiss, your hand instinctively moved up to his cheek, your fingers brushing against the roughness of his stubble. His jaw shifted under your touch, a soft rumble of breath escaping him. You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat pick up.

His hand, still resting on your cheek, gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing along the curve of your jaw. His other hand, which had been hovering uncertainly, now reached around to your back.

You responded instinctively, your body pressing against his, feeling the warmth of him seep through your clothes. The softness of the kiss slowly deepened as he tilted his head, his fingers now brushing through your hair.

Pulling back slightly, you both took a breath, your foreheads resting against each other, your breath mingling. Gavin’s eyes were soft, searching yours.

He broke the silence first, his voice low. “Didn’t think we’d be here tonight.”

You smiled softly, your hand still resting on his chest. “Me neither

#dbh connor #dbh #dbh markus #markus #hank anderson #deviants #connor x reader #detroit become human #neil newbon #gavin reed #elijah kamski

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