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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months ago

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Chapter 7- For The First Time

Summary: Eight days ago, you kissed Frankie Morales for the first time. Eight days later, you want to do more than just kiss him.

Word count: 8.6K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) protected p in v sex, loss of virginity/first sexual experience for Frankie and Reader (some brief mentions of momentary discomfort bc of it) oral (f receiving- building the lore for Pussy Eating King Francisco Morales brick by brick), vaginal fingering, Frankie's got a big dick (it's also part of the lore, don't @ me) sweet and awkward teenage love, Frankie being everything and more, lots and lots and lots of consent, a four letter word that starts with an L, please don't yell at me, they're both 18 at this point in the story!!!

A/N: Soooooo all of a sudden I blinked a this was 8K plus words WHOOPS 🤠 I ain't gonna lie with y'all, this may be one of my favorite things I've ever written and have cried the whole way through it 😭 My plan was to have Frankie picking up MacKenzie from work in this chapter too, but obviously things got away from me very quickly, so that will be next chapter's problem!! Your kind words about this story mean so much to me, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it!!! 🥺💕

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Summer of 2007, Age 18

123 days.

That night Frankie told you he had made up his mind to join the Army after he finished with high school, you counted out every square on your calendar from April 15th to August 16th. You had 123 days left together before you left for college and Frankie left for boot camp.

But April 15th was 2 months ago. 67 days ago, to be exact. Each day you crossed off your calendar filled you with a little more dread than the last. You tried not to think about the dwindling number, or the impending doom of August hanging behind July and June on the wall above your desk, but it was hard to not let the thought constantly nag in the back of your mind that the carefree summer days of spending practically every waking minute with Frankie were coming to an end.

The only thing that seemed to put you at ease was just that- after the hurt and sadness of Frankie’s departure had subsided enough, you had promised each other that the last bit of time you had together, you’d do everything in your power to make the most of it.

If there was anything you knew the other was good for, it was keeping a promise.

There was no denying that the past 67 days spent with Frankie had been nothing short of magical. It seemed like for once in your life, everything was falling into place exactly how you wanted it to.

Your soccer team had won the state championship, Frankie being the first to rush onto the field to congratulate you on your victory after cheering for you at the top of his lungs the whole game. The stress of school seemed to become irrelevant, your teachers easing up as you came to the close of your Senior year, you and Frankie’s after school hangouts now focused less on homework and more on goofing around. Graduation had come and gone, you and Frankie both walking across the stage of your high school gym, diplomas in hand, teasing the other relentlessly about how awful the other looked in the stupid, tasseled caps they had forced you to wear.

Then, there was prom.

It had been no question that you and Frankie were going to prom together- it was an unspoken, standing agreement that the both of you had since the start of your senior year. For as much as homecomings or school dances had never been your (or Frankie’s) preferred way to spend a Saturday night, there was an undeniable excitement you had about it you couldn’t really quite describe. You kept chalking it up to the fact it was the biggest night of your senior year, or that all your best friends were gathering together to have an incredible party filled with dancing and fun.

But neither of those things could account for the butterflies in your stomach when Frankie showed up at your front door, tuxedo on and flowers in hand, watching his jaw drop and heart stop when he laid eyes on you.

“You look beautiful, MacKenzie.”

From that moment on, those 4 words hadn’t stopped ringing in your ears.

They rang in your ears as he held your hand the entire night, refusing to unlock his fingers from yours.

They rang in your ears as you felt him grab your waist while you danced.

They rang in your ears as he lovinging teased you about your drunken hiccups off sips of stolen beer cans in Santi’s basement where the party had traveled to long after prom had finished.

They rang in your ears in the middle of your moonlit street as Frankie walked you home, making it no less than ten steps past Santi’s porch before he froze, staring at you like a trembling deer in headlights.

“What’s wrong, weirdo?”

“There’s something I wanna do. I’m terrified you’ll hate me forever if I do it, but I’ve wanted to for so long and I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

“Frankie, what are you-”

“Can I kiss you, MacKenzie? Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“F-Frankie, I-”

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget that I-”

“I was scared you would never ask.”

It wasn’t until then you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss Frankie Morales.

Now, you’re absolutely sure that you never want to stop kissing him.

There’s something about the warmed, welcomed June air that makes you want to throw every caution you’ve ever had to the wind, finally understanding what all of those books and movies had meant about falling victim to a summer fling.

Ever since that night at prom, Frankie Morales was the only thing in the world that mattered. It had only been eight days since his lips had met yours under the midnight moon, but every day since, neither of you had passed up a chance to sneak away for stolen kisses and bodies tangled in messy dances of limbs, finding any excuse to spend a moment alone together.

Maybe your pink cheeks and goofy grins were enough to let the world know how hard you had fallen for your best friend- even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t care. Right now, consequences don't exist.

Right now, the only thing that does is you, Frankie, and a four letter word that lingers in the back of your mind.

They especially don’t exist when you’re wide awake at one in the morning for the third night in a row, unable to sleep as butterflies rumble in your stomach and fly up to your chest after another day spent with the boy four doors down.

You toss and turn under your sheets, unable to stand staring hopelessly at your ceiling another minute. You reach across your bed, plucking your phone off your nightstand, finding Frankie’s name in your messages.

You:

Hey, are you still up? I can’t sleep

It’s barely ten seconds before his contact is lighting up your screen, making your heartbeat just a little faster.

Frankie :) <3

Im up 2. I cant sleep either

Cant stop thinking about u

You:

Me either, even though we literally spent all day together haha

You smile at your screen as you wait for Frankie’s response, fingers anxiously tapping on your keyboard until your phone lights up again.

Frankie :) <3

Do u wanna come over?

I wanna see u

Your face scrunches in confusion, sitting up in your bed to peer out your window, like Frankie would be able to see your puzzled expression from down the street as you type back.

You:

I mean, yeah, but it’s 1 AM Frankie??? What about your mom?

Frankie :) <3

Shes working overnight at the hospital

She wont be back until like 9 tomorrow

Its just me

You’re unsure of how to describe the feeling that’s beginning to brew in your stomach as you read his last three texts. A strange mix of excitement and anticipation washes through you at the idea of letting yourself indulge in the teenage rebellion of sneaking out of your house in the middle of the night. An even stranger mix of nerves and something else you can’t quite explain floods your veins at the idea of sneaking out of your house to find Frankie, alone in his bedroom.

The feeling you quite can’t explain churns faster in your gut and travels down your lower half when you realize if you’re alone with Frankie in his bedroom, you want to do more than just kiss him.

You:

Are you sure??

Frankie :) <3

Promise

I really wanna see u Kenz

At this point, the strange feeling that’s seeped through every inch of your body must have made it to your brain, because you’re convinced it’s the reason you don’t know how to breathe anymore.

You:

Okay

I’ll be over in 10 :)

Frankie :) <3

Ok :)

Come in thru the back door

Txt me when ur there and ill let u in

You’ve never been up and out of your bed so quickly, fumbling with your comforter and pillows just enough to resemble something close to a body under your sheets if god forbid either one of your parents wakes up and decides to check on you for the first time since you were a toddler.

Your breath trembles, inhaling and exhaling in long and deep rises of your chest, carefully tiptoeing across your bedroom floor. You’d give anything to be in something cuter than your pajamas, but opening your closet seems like too risky of a move in your plot to escape.

You grab Frankie’s sweatshirt hanging over your desk chair, quietly shuffling it over your head before attempting to use the moonlight spilling in through your window as enough illumination to comb your fingers through your messy hair and wrangle it into a quick braid. It’s hard to tell from the half lit reflection staring back at you in the mirror, but you pray the once over you give yourself is enough to keep you from looking like a complete mess when you show up at Frankie’s door.

The adrenaline of it all seems to kick your nerves to the curb as you stuff your phone in Frankie’s sweatshirt pocket before your fingers gently wrap around the curve of your doorknob. As soon as you open the door, you’re well aware of the ramifications that could await you on the other side.

You’re also well aware that consequences are temporary, and no amount of fear of future punishment is keeping you from making it to Frankie’s bedroom tonight.

It’s a James Bond worthy performance, the way you sneak down your staircase, avoiding every crack and creak with expertise, stealthily sliding past your parents bedroom and across the family room until you’ve crept through your kitchen to find your back patio.

You flinch with every squeal of the sliding glass door as you nudge it open, just enough to squeeze your body through. You grimace your face in fear as you pause, back to the bricks of your house, waiting for someone to catch you in the act.

A few moments pass and the silence of your home stays stagnant, giving you the all clear to bolt across your backyard, dashing through your neighbors lawns until you find yourself at Frankie’s, hands shaking as your fingers punch at your keyboard.

You:

I’m here! Let me in!

As your thumb presses send, your adrenaline has waived just enough to let the anxious tension take hold of your body, palms sweating and heart racing so fast it just may beat out of your chest. Your teeth gnaw at your fingernails, waiting for his response to text you that he’ll be right there, or he’s about to let you in, but this is Frankie- It should be no surprise when he opens the back door immediately. There’s not a chance in hell he hasn’t been waiting for you down here since the moment you texted him you were coming.

“Hi.” You whisper, biting down your lip to contain the smile that’s spread across your face as he’s opened the door.

“Hi.” He whispers back, tongue darting between his lips as his eyes wander up and down your frame before locking with yours.

His palm grazes your cheek, cradling your jaw as he steps into you, chest to chest while your lips lock in a gentle, electric kiss, the kind that makes you want the taste of him to linger on your tongue forever.

“You wanna go up to my room?” He asks, the hot breath of his words dancing across your skin as his mouth still hovers over yours.

Before, you would have quipped him with some sort of witty, sarcastic response, teasing him that you’d rather stay out in the pitch black and get eaten by mosquitos until he dragged you inside, eyes rolling at your sass. Now, the best you can manage are shaky breaths while you nod your head in agreement, praying your brain will let you form some sort of coherent thought before you speak.

Frankie grabs your hand as he pulls you into his house, taking the familiar path through his kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom, the pounding in both your chests filling the silence for the words you seem to lack.

He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him as you make it to his room, your bodies tangling and intertwining in a frantic dance, stumbling across the floor until the backs of Frankie’s knees collide with the bed, the two of you toppling over in soft giggles onto the mattress.

“Fuck, I missed you.” Frankie sighs, one arm wrapped around your hip and the other resting on your face as he leans back in for another kiss, your smiles pressed against each other.

“It’s only been like, three hours since I saw you last, dummy,” You quietly snicker, letting your hands wander up his chest, “You really missed me that much?”

“Yeah, really.” He replies in between kisses, fingers digging just a little bit deeper into your side, “I can’t stop thinking about you, Kenzie. You’re all I think about. You’re all I ever wanna think about.”

You try to swallow the lump that’s lingering in your throat, but with each second that passes, it seems to grow, trapping the words your brain is fighting to get out. The simple bliss you’ve found in pressing your mouth to Frankie’s has become overshadowed by the looming tension spreading through you as you imagine the soft plush of his lips across your skin, or the way you want his hands to creep down the waistband of your shorts and ease the ache that’s been building between your legs.

Your body freezes at the realization that you want to tell him that you can’t stop thinking about him either, that you can’t stop thinking about the fact you want more than just his lips pressed against yours, how you want him to be the first one you feel inside you, that he’s the only one you ever want.

That there’s nothing more than you want to be his.

It doesn’t take long for Frankie to realize he’s making out with a half open mouth, pulling away with concern as he studies the pained expression across your face.

“Kenz, a-are, are you okay? D-did I do something wrong?” Frankie stammers, gulping as he shifts himself to follow your lead and sit up on the bed.

“N-no, no, it’s just that- fuck- I just- fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” You stutter, face growing hotter and hotter as you furrow your brow, eyes peeled to Frankie’s blue and green plaid sheets as you try to find the words you want so desperately for him to hear.

Frankie reaches out his hand, gently resting it on the bare skin of your thigh, just below the hem of your pajama shorts. You glance down at the way his fingers carefully rub back and forth, trying to calm your nerves enough to look at him.

“It’s okay, Kenzie. Whatever it is, I’m- I’m here to listen.” He responds, trying his best to be the anchor in your storm, despite his own nearly shot nerves.

“I- I- I really like you, Frankie.”

“I really like you too, Kenz.” He smiles softly, just enough teasing inflection in his tone to get you to giggle, just a little.

“I just- I- um, do you- Frankie, do you- do you ever think about doing more than just kissing me?”

A stark silence fills the room, quiet enough that each breath through your nose and thump in your chest amplifies and echoes in the space between you. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek watching Frankie’s face go blank, eyes widening with every second he lets your question process. His Adam’s Apple bobs in sync with the trembling exhale he takes before he looks back at you, praying that your word vomit hasn’t led to a detrimental mistake.

“Do um, holy shit- you mean like, l-like what? Like, like, h-having sex? W-w-with you?”

He’s panting like he’s just finished a marathon, his eyes darting wildly between you and his sheets, terrified to answer your question with anything else but his own question to make sure he’s really just heard what you said.

The tops of your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you nod your head just enough, the subtle shake just enough to let him confirm his suspicions that you’re asking as a way of letting him know how often it’s crossed your mind.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I think about it.” He stammers, feeling his fingers tremble against your skin, hand still resting on your thigh, “D-do- do you? Um, think about it?”

“Yeah.” You whisper, voice shaking as you reach down to lay your hand over his, letting your fingers slide between the gaps between his knuckles until they intertwine, gripping each other tightly, there was no chance the other could float away.

The silence shifts to a different type of tension, a thickness in the air so palpable, it makes it just as hard to move as it does to breathe. The two of you stare at the interlocked hand resting on your thigh, stuck in a game of chicken of who dares to make the first move into the uncharted territory you’ve entered.

“I- I’ve never-”

“Me either.” Frankie interjects, cutting off the end of your statement.

It’s almost humorous to admit it out loud, like the both of you didn’t already share every detail of your lives with one another, and had somehow managed to let this fact fall between the cracks.

The two of you let out quiet laughs to yourselves, finding comfort in the comradery to work up enough courage to let your gazes meet again, wondering if Frankie can see the same yearning in your eyes as you see reflected in the soft brown his.

“MacKenzie, I- I-” he mutters, scrunching his face with his swallow, trying to compose himself, “I only wanna do what you wanna do. I don’t- um, I don’t want you to think that if- if you don’t want to, o-or whatever, that I would be mad. I promise I would never, ever be mad at you because of that. Y-you know that, right?”

“I know.”

There’s not a part of you that doubts it. Not for a second. You know that there’s no one else on the face of this earth you trust more than him.

There could be no one else but him.

“You know I would never be mad at you either, right?” You ask, relieved as you watch Frankie gently nod his head.

You’re not sure if it’s instinct or the weight of the tension that makes you lean into him, foreheads pressing together so that the messy curls of his sleepy hair are tickling your skin. You can hear how hard his heart is beating, waiting on your every breath as he leans back into you.

“I want to. I want you, Frankie.”

“F-fuck- Are you sure?” He asks, his free hand creeping across the sheets, carefully sliding up your thigh and under his sweatshirt you’re wearing, letting his fingers toy at the softness of your stomach and the waistband of your shorts.

“I’m sure.” You whisper back, your own hand traveling up his leg and towards the tented fabric of his pajama bottoms.

“I-if it’s too much, t-tell me to stop, okay? I promise I’ll take care of you, MacKenzie.”

“I know you will. I trust you, Frankie.”

“O-okay.”

“Okay.”

It’s then your mouths crash together in a messy dance of tounges and teeth, an instant electricity igniting in your core with anticipation and want. It’s frantic yet sensual, the way there’s nothing more you want than him, but can’t bear to miss a moment to take it all in, savoring every second you melt into him.

As your hands wander across each other’s bodies, Frankie shifts you to lay on your back so he can cage his frame over yours, the ends of his fingers barely daring to roam any farther than just below your hips or too far above your stomach.

“C-can I take off your shirt?” He asks, already breathless at just the sight of you underneath him.

“Technically your shirt, Morales.” You smirk, making his cheeks turn even more pink at the way you giggle when you say his name.

“It’s yours now, looks way better on you than it does on me. Drives me fucking crazy seeing you in my clothes, Kenz.” He grins, carefully tugging your sweatshirt and the shirt underneath it above your head as you lift up your arms, helping him wriggle it free.

As you pop out from under the fabric, the first thing you notice is the way Frankie’s jaw is hanging open, eyes wide as can be as they stay glued to your bare chest.

“Holy shit.” Frankie whispers to himself, tongue darting between his lips, staring at the way your nipples have hardened from being exposed and aroused. “Um, w-wow.”

Seeing you topless sparks something in him to do the same, reaching over his shoulder to tug his t-shirt off his back and over his head, leaving nowhere for the heave of each heavy rise and fall of your chests to hide.

Slowly, Frankie lets his hands slide up your stomach until he’s palming your breasts, grouping each one in his hands, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against your sensitive buds.

He leans down to kiss you, starting at your lips before trailing down your neck and collarbone, until he reaches your chest, carefully kissing each handful he has in his grasp.

You’ve never felt your core ache the way it does now, throbbing with want and need for more, just from the way Frankie’s groping you. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling- you’ve touched yourself before with this exact scenario playing in your mind, but never has it made you feel like this.

“Y-you can take off my shorts, i-if you want.”

“O-kay.”

The gentleness of Frankie’s gaze makes your heart skip a beat, the chocolate brown of his eyes locked on yours as he scoots himself down the bed until he finds himself settled between your legs, now parted open for him.

It’s then you’re overtly aware that Frankie is about to see you completely naked, a new wave of anxiety crashing through you as heat rises in your cheeks and makes you fidget the fabric of his sheets between your fingers.

“I- I- I’m not wearing cute underwear. S-sorry.” You stammer, wincing as Frankie’s thumbs begin to dip below your waistband.

“Seriously, Kenz?” He chuckles, pausing in his tracks to shake his head in disbelief, “Do you really think I care what underwear you have on right now?”

“Well, n-no, but-”

“You really think I’m about to turn down having sex with you because you’re not in the right underwear? That you won’t even have on in like, three seconds?” Frankie snickers, trying to help ease your clearly visible nerves.

“Shut up.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you playfully swat at him, forgetting about the fact you were topless and immediately clamming up again as you felt your breasts sway against your chest. “S-sorry, I- I’m just kinda nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” Frankie questions gently, wrapping his hand around your calf, thumb softly circling your skin.

“Well you’re about to see me naked for the first time, Frankie. I think that’s a pretty fair reason to be nervous.” You force the stifled laugh stuck in your throat, attempting to uphold any confidence you have left in your facade.

“You’re about to see me naked too, Kenz. Would it make you feel better if you saw me pantless first?”

He says it like he’s teasing, but you know there’s a part of him that’s serious- that he’d do anything to make you feel better, even something as simple as being the first to forgo any clothes on his bottom half.

“No, I know, Frankie, it’s just-”

“Do you know how beautiful I think you are?”

It catches you off guard, how quick he is to stifle your protest, the warmth of his words flushing your cheeks, now shifting to fit the delicate grin that’s growing between them.

“You’re so beautiful, MacKenzie. Everything about you, I swear.”

He must feel the butterflies churning in your stomach, his hands sliding down your thighs to grab your sides, leaning over to press soft kisses just above your waistband. He stares up at you once more, giving each other subtle nods of reassurance as his fingers play with the elastic, carefully helping you to lift your hips just enough to shuffle your bottoms down your legs until they’re a crumpled pile on the floor.

It eases the tension that’s built throughout your body as you watch in real time how Frankie’s brain short circuits, mesmerized by the view that’s revealed itself between your legs. You timidly squirm your lower half against the sheets, just enough to feel the sticky warmth of your arousal that’s been pooling since the minute you stepped foot in Frankie’s bedroom.

“H-holy- holy fuck. O-oh my god.” Frankie murmurs to himself, eyes locked on the puffy, wet mess of your pussy, “MacKenzie, I- wow. C-can, um, can I touch you?”

“Mmhmm. Y-you can touch me, Frankie. F-fuck, I want you to. Please.” You whisper, letting your legs part for him more, clit pulsing with anticipation to feel Frankie’s fingers.

“I-if it doesn’t feel good o-or, you know, you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“Okay, Frankie.”

You didn’t even know it was possible to feel this wound up, every throb of your core pulsing through your body with so much intensity you’re convinced you may explode if Frankie doesn’t touch you this second.

The pads his fingers gently slide over your swollen lips, collecting the slick that clings to them before he brings them to your clit, his precise and delicate touch still making you gasp the moment he starts to circle around your sensitive nub. He swirls his fingers with the lightest touch like you’re made of glass, scared he’ll break you if he dares to push too hard.

“You can, fuck- you can press more if you want.”

“Okay. I just- I didn’t wanna hurt you, or anything.”

The corner of your lips curl with a soft smile, the stiffness in your muscles relaxing with how warm and safe he makes you feel.

“I-in the same place, though? Same circles, just like, more pressure?” He asks, quietly calculating his next move as you shake your head in response.

Frankie begins to circle again, slowly increasing the weight of his fingers against your clit, brushing against it in just the right way to make you whimper in delight.

“Oh my god-” You sigh, breath hitching in the back of your throat.

“Good oh my god, or bad oh my god?” Frankie questions, terrified he’s done something to upset you.

“No- no, good oh my god. K-keep doing that.” You stammer, pulse quickening as a familiar tingle of pleasure begins to build in your stomach.

Your reassurance gives Frankie the boost of confidence he needs, drawing tight circles around your nub with the pads of his fingers for a few moments, until his thumb takes over, leaving his middle two fingers free, ghosting over your entrance.

There’s a louder moan as Frankie barely slips his middle finger inside of you, lightly prodding in and out of your hole, welcoming the new fullness in the warmth and wet of your walls.

He pumps a few more times, letting his finger sink deeper with each stroke until he’s knuckle deep, reaching further than any spot you’ve been able to feel yourself. It’s when a second digit joins his first that you feel nearly breathless, the stretch and sting making you wince for a moment as you adjust, realising how much thicker and stronger his fingers are than your own when you touch yourself.

Frankie immediately notices your tense expression, quickly pulling back, raising his hands like he’s been caught in the act, guilt ridden look painted across his face.

“Fuck, Kenzie, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay, Frankie! It feels good, I promise, your fingers are just a lot bigger than mine.”

He tilts his head in confusion for a second until the lightbulb clicks with him that he’s not the only one in the room who's ever been horny and taken care of themself to help solve their problem.

“Wh-what do you think about? Wh-when, when you touch yourself?” He asks with a quiet caution.

“I- I think about you, Frankie.”

You answer without hesitation. Not to appease him, not to convince yourself, but because it’s the truth. You’ve thought about him more times than you can count.

Your answer ignites another spark of self-assurance in him, carefully letting his thumb swirl against your clit as his middle finger gently slides back into your entrance, working up to the same tempo he was at a few moments ago.

“I think about you, too. All the time.” He confesses, a willing admittance now that you’re laying your cards out on the table for him.

“Well, there was one time, a long time ago, I thought about Orlando Bloom after I watched Pirates of the Caribbean.”

You’re not sure what spurs on your unnecessary addition to your comment, but it makes you and Frankie both snort, needing a moment to compose yourself from your fit of giggles.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re really into pirates?” Frankie laughs, biting down on his lip.

“No, you dork! That’s not- Jesus, you know what, forget I ever said anything, okay?” You sigh, rolling your eyes at Frankie, trying to will away the reds and pinks that plague your cheeks.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Kenz, don’t worry.” He teases, his smile slowly shifting to a stoic sort of concentration as he stares down at his fingers pressed against your pussy. “I- I wanna try something.”

“What?”

“Can I um, can I go down on you?”

“Wait, really?”

Despite your own inexperience, you weren’t naive enough to ignore the rumblings from friends of friends, or stories of girls on your soccer team, constantly complaining about how all their boyfriends wanted them to suck their dicks with nothing in return. They’d claim it was gross, or weird, or that it would taste disgusting, so you’d be hard pressed to not believe that every boy under the sun mostly likely found themselves in the same school of thought.

“Do you not want me to?” Frankie questions, trying to hide the small pang of disappointment you’re sure he feels in his chest at your puzzled reaction.

“N-no, it’s just that- I didn’t think that- I thought guys thought that was gross.”

“What? Who said that?” Frankie scoffs.

“I don’t know, like, Sarah and Morgan from the soccer team always complained about how their boyfriends never wanted to because they said it was gross or whatever.”

“Well Sarah and Morgan’s boyfriends have a single brain cell left between them after all the hits they’ve taken during football this season.”

The two of you laugh again, finding relief in the way your friendship prevails through the discomfort.

“You really don’t think it’s gross?”

“No. I- I think it’s kinda hot.”

It’s now Frankie’s cheeks that are flushed with crimson, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. You can tell he has more he wants to say from the way his eyes dart between yours and the bed, forcing you to tilt your head with that little nod he knows means that you’ll keep pestering him until he breaks. Lucky for you, it won’t take much.

“Santi stole this DVD from his cousin's house, and honestly most of it was so stupid because obviously it's all fake. Like, no one’s that excited to get fucked at a doctor’s office. But anyways, there was this one part at the beginning where uh- where the guy goes down on the girl and I- um, I don’t know. I- I wanted to try it, I guess.”

“Really didn’t think I was gonna have to worry about not picturing Santi in my head tonight.”

You and Frankie giggle as you pretend to gag at the thought of Santi becoming a part of you losing your virginity, praying there never comes a day he finds out he’s in part to thank for Frankie’s peaked curiosity.

“I- I want you to. If you want to.”

“I want to. Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.”

The pace of your pulse begins to quicken again, watching the way Frankie’s face lights up as he races to position himself between your legs, laying flat against the mattress with his face hovering above your heat, his hot, trembling breath tickling your folds.

You swear he licks his lips before his mouth meets you, but the slow, long drag of his tongue across your clit already has your head thrown back against his pillow, the warmth and wetness lighting you up from the inside out with jolts of electric pleasure.

He repeats it a few more times, languidly lapping in smooth and steady strokes, each with just a little more pressure than the last. It’s instinctual, how you buck your hips towards his face, like your body knows it wants more before your brain can process it, signaling to Frankie you’ve given him the okay to keep going, to give you more.

Little gasps escape your parted lips as his tongue moves faster, circling your clit the same way he had with his thumb, making your body melt into the mattress. It’s almost unearthly, how good it feels, little fires igniting in your stomach with every flick of his tongue.

You don’t mean to startle him with how loudly you whimper as he intensifies the pressure, mouth still latched around your clit while his brown eyes peek up at you, breathlessly nodding to him that he shouldn’t dare to stop now.

He takes it as a sign to test the waters even further, letting his middle finger be sucked into the warmth of your velvety walls before ever so carefully sliding in another. The stretch is still there but the sting has faded, his fingers a welcomed addition to ease the way you realize you’ve been clenching around nothing, subconsciously desperate to fill the empty ache in your core.

Inch by inch, he sinks them deeper until you feel him bump against a soft spot inside you that makes you scream in a way you’ve never felt before, fireworks exploding everywhere in your body as his tongue and fingers work in tandem.

A familiar tingle rapidly begins to build at the base of your spine, except the same type of tingle you’ve experienced alone has never multiplied and compounded in the same way this one does.

Desperate for something to grab on to, one hand fists at Frankie’s sheets, the other, shooting down to the messy curls of his hair, burying your fingers until they disappear under his unkempt locks.

You’re not sure if you’re so pleasure drunk you can’t think straight, but you swear you can feel that stupid, smug smirk pressed against your pussy as you hold onto him for dear life.

He keeps the same pace with his tongue, fingers prodding in just the right spot to make you feel like you’re losing control, limbs numb and shaking like jello as you feel the tingle creep down your legs and up through your chest.

“F-Frankie, I- oh fuck- fuck, oh my god, fuck, I- I- oh my go-ahhhhhhhhhh-”

It’s all consuming, the way the pleasure washes over you, like waves crashing into the shoreline- relentless and never ending. There’s a moment you’re convinced your body’s left this planet, floating off in space in a cloud of endless ecstasy.

You’re not sure how long you’re lost in the electricity of it all- Minutes? Hours? Years? You’d believe any and all of the above. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you come to, greeted with the image of Frankie still settled between your legs, wild haired and goofy grinned.

“Frankie…. Holy fuck.”

A beaming, boyish smile lights up across his face at the way you’re panting, wiping the shiny slick stained around his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah? D-did it feel good? Did you um- did you-”

“Yeah. Holy shit. Remind me to thank Santi’s cousin if I ever meet him.”

“Jesus Christ…” Frankie sighs, rolling his eyes at your giggles, heart melting at the way he can’t hide his rosy cheeks and curled lips every time he looks at you, “It felt good though? Like, Actually?”

“Yeah, it felt really good, Frankie.” You coo, watching Frankie prop himself up to sit back on his haunches, letting your gaze wander down his bare chest until you reach the clearly tented fabric of his pajama pants, lingering just long enough for him to notice where you’re staring.

Silent tension fills the room again, the both of you realizing that you’ve only conquered one part of the journey you’ve embarked on together, and that the second half of your travels pose many more risks than the first. Frankie is the only one you want by your side as you brave your adventure together.

With a little push, your back parts with his mattress, sitting up to close the gap between you. You’re close enough now that your hands can roam up his thighs, softly palming at the stiff bulge straining under his pants.

“Oh f-fuck-” Frankie stutters, jaw going slack with ever pass your hand makes over his erection.

“Can I take off your pants, Frankie?” You whisper, burying your head in the crook of his neck, craning your head just enough so that the hot words of your breath dance in his ear.

You can barely finish your sentence before Frankie’s scrambling off the edge of the bed, standing up straight to give you the easiest access to shuffle his pajamas down while you kneel on the mattress.

You pray Frankie can’t feel the way your fingers shake as they sink under his waistband and brush against his stomach, pulling his bottoms down just slow enough to memorize the subtle V that sinks between his hips, or the soft trail of barely there brown hair under his belly button that thickens with every tug.

With one final breath, you slide them down enough to finally free what’s been hiding underneath, his length fully hard, bobbing as it springs free. This must have been what it felt like for Frankie, understanding the way his eyes went wide and brain went blank after he saw you for the first time.

It’s not like it’s a surprise to you, the concept of what he’s had tucked away in his pants.

What does, is how the sight of it nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“F-Frankie… Holy shit.”

“What? I-is something wrong?” He winces, immediately bracing himself for the worst.

“No, it’s just- just like, Holy shit, Frankie.” You reiterate, making it very clear you’re more than impressed as you gesture at what’s hanging in front of you.

“O-oh, t-thanks.” He stutters, a sweet shyness overtaking him as a result of your admiration.

You scoot yourself closer, a boldness overcoming you as you delicately wrap your hand around his length, slowly sliding it up and down his shaft. You pray that whatever you’re doing feels okay, but from the way Frankie’s whimpers and moans escape from his parted lips, you take it as a sign you’re safe to take another step further.

“Since you went down on me, do you want me to go down on-”

“N-no!” He pauses, drowning his face in his palm for the way he’s panicking, making you drop him from your grasp, “No, I- uh- shit- sorry, sorry, no it’s just- No, not because I don’t want you to- b-believe me, I really want you to. Like, really want you to.”

“O-okay, so?”

He must feel awful for the puzzled and pained expression on your face, reaching with both hands to cradle your jaw, making sure your gaze is fixated on him.

“I’m sorry, I promise nothing’s wrong, I just- fuck- I don’t wanna cum yet and I know if you go down on me, I will in like two seconds, and I wanna cum when we’re having sex. I-if you still wanna, ya know, have sex. Jesus, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I think I’m- I’m nervous, too. ”

The top of your teeth graze your lower lip, batting your lashes in heavy, long blinks, your lips curling in a sympathetic smile that you’re not alone in your uneasiness. Finding comfort in the uncomfortability, together. Knowing how easy it would be for him to play it all off like no big deal, or pretend to mask the confidence he lacks, and yet, he doesn’t, makes you want him even more.

“Do you still want to? I- I’m nervous too, but I want to. It makes me feel less nervous that it’s with you.”

The tender kiss he plants on your lips as your bodies move in sync down the bed is the only answer you need, shuffling backwards towards the pillows while Frankie hovers his body over you, mouths only parting to let you settle into the mattress.

Each kiss becomes more frantic and desperate than the last, mouths melting together as your tongues wrestle. The way he kisses you is all consuming, enough to make you feel like the only people in the world that exist in this moment are you and him.

“You sure you want to?” He gasps, fighting for his words to escape his parted lips.

“I’m sure.” You whisper back, barely soft enough for him to hear.

The two of you nod, Frankie shifting his weight to reach across you, shuffling through the drawer of his nightstand until he fishes out the box of condoms he has hidden away. He sits back on his knees, carefully ripping a square from the line of packages, tossing the rest over the side of the bed. He’s even more delicate as he tears the edge of the foil he’s holding in his hands, removing the rubber and methodically rolling it down over his shaft.

“It’s on right... Right?”

“Yeah. I practiced putting them on earlier this week so I didn’t look like a complete idiot when I tried to do it the first time. Although I think telling you that probably makes me look like an even bigger idiot.”

“No it doesn’t,” You softly reassure him, “I’d rather have you do that than put it on wrong. I don’t want any of your babies yet, Morales.”

Yet.

You’re not sure what makes your brain decide to add those three letters into your sentence. You’re also not sure why you don’t hate that it did. There’s a part of you that thinks there’s a chance that maybe Frankie didn't hear it, but you know that boy would die before he stopped hanging onto every word that fell from your lips.

There’s a part of you that also swears he’s trying with everything in him to keep from smiling.

Your attention shifts with Frankie’s body, hovering back over yours with his fist wrapped around the base of his shaft, sinking his hips to line himself up with your entrance. His tip brushes against your clit, a familiar jolt of pleasure swirling in your stomach at how you clench around nothing, anxious and aching to feel him inside you.

“I-if it’s too much, or it doesn’t feel good, or you wanna stop, just-”

“I know, Frankie. I’ll tell you, I promise.”

Your low exhale syncs with Frankie’s gulp, each of you bracing yourselves as you finally feel his tip breach inside you. You try your best to relax, squirming your bottom half with each inch Frankie sinks himself deeper. You’re sure there’s a wince as he pushes past the halfway point- not painful, but a sting and stretch in a way you’ve never felt. Frankie freezes, gently grabbing your hip.

“You good, Kenzie? You want me to stop?”

“No, I’m okay, just kind of stings a little, but it still feels good. Maybe if you didn’t have such a big dick, it wouldn’t be a problem.” You tease, letting out a little huff of laughter.

It’s now Frankie’s turn to scrunch the muscles of his face, cocking your head at the grit of his teeth.

“Frankie, are you okay?”

“Yup. Yup, I’m good. When you laughed it squeezed my dick and it felt really good and I’m trying not to make a fucking fool of myself right now.”

“Sorry, no more laughing, got it.” You grimace, desperately trying not to giggle at Frankie’s pained concentration as he shakes his head at you. “Y- you can keep going, though.”

“F-fuck, o-okay.”

There’s another deep breath before he’s pushing his hips towards you, taking his time as you feel the pain start to shift to indescribable pleasure, the feeling of how full he is inside of you making every wire in your brain short circuit.

“Holy fucking shit.” Frankie whispers under his breath, “Fuck, you feel so good, MacKenzie.”

You wish you had the words to tell him how you feel the same, but the best you can muster is a muffled moan that escapes from your unhinged jaw, brain empty at the sweet stretch of his fullness, stagnant inside you.

F-fuck Frankie. Oh my god.” You murmur, letting the muscles of your face untense so the weight of your eyelids can flutter open, soaking in the image of Frankie above you. The rest of your body follows, slowly beginning to relax as you adjust, yearning for more than just his hips flushed against yours. “Y-you can move, Frankie.”

He lets his arms sink from the plank he’s holding, letting your chests flush together so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin with the first thrust of his hips, steadily sliding in and out of your heat, savoring every second of the sensation.

“You still okay, baby?” Frankie coos into your ear, the new nickname only adding to the way you want to clench down around his length as he keeps his languid pace, dragging his cock along the warmth and wetness of your walls.

“Mhmmm. You can go faster, i-if you want. F-fuck, it feels so good, Frankie.”

The way you whimper and whine his name sets off a low rumble deep in his chest, lips locking with yours as you feel him pump just a little harder, his length nudging the same, savory spot he had found before with his fingers. Your hand shoots up to wrap around his bicep, nails marking crescent moons in his skin.

Every move he makes is solely based on your reaction, reading the way your body responds to him before daring to take a step further. Your iron grip and sweet moans are enough to spur him on further, a steady rhythm now working through each thrust of his hips.

There’s a new knot in your stomach that starts to tighten, building in your gut and slowly creeping its way to spread throughout your body. The coarse hairs curling at the base of his shaft brush against your clit just enough to spark a jolt of electricity to your core, bucking your hips into his with each thrust. You’re desperate to reach the same high he had given you before, eager to ease the ache of your sensitive bud.

Frankie picks up on the way you rut back into him, snaking his hand down your front, making just enough space between your bodies to let the pads of his fingers find your clit. The pressure he adds with the circles and swirls makes your breath hitch in the back of your throat, overwhelmed with arousal by how all encompassing Frankie is.

It’s hard to believe how quickly you find yourself becoming addicted to him, your body yearning to become one with his and never separate. You want your heart, your soul, for all of it to be his, and only his, to be unable to find where you end and he begins.

The only thing you want is to be his.

With each stroke, your pussy flutters faster around his length, the tingle that had formed at the base of your spine now seeping through your veins, teetering on the brink of collapse.

“F-fuck- fuck, Frankie, don’t stop. Fuck, I- I think I’m- I’m close.”

If it was anyone else, there would be no words to describe the embarrassment from the pathetic whimper you let out at the way Frankie groans while he punches into you. A look of pained concentration splays across his face, focusing with every brain cell he has left to make sure you finish first.

“Shit- I- I- fuck, I’m close, too.” He stutters, chest heaving in between each word.

He presses his forehead into yours, meeting you with the tacky sheet of sweat that now clings to his skin and dampens his curls. His scent, his warmth, the weight of his body laid across yours- you almost dare to wish that this moment, this feeling, would never end.

But the way he whispers your name, each letter warm and tickling your skin, a sweet symphony only he can sing is what sends you over the edge, pushing you past the point of no return.

“M-MacKenzie… f-fuck, MacKenzie-”

Each syllable is an explosion inside you, lighting you up to send sparks through every last limb until you’re sobbing his name, singing his own sweet song back to him.

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankiefrankiefrankie-ahhhhh-”

The dam inside you finally breaks, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you as you squeeze around him, swallowed whole by the electricity of it all.

There’s not much your mind can process after you snap, but there’s enough strength left to keep your gaze locked on Frankie and the way he gasps as his jaw drops after you’ve finished. He’s just as lost as you, relishing in your afterglow as he chases his own high, each thrust more sloppy and erratic than the last.

“Fuck, fuck, holy shit MacKenzie, fuck, I’m gonna cum so ha-aaaaahhh-”

There’s only one last shift of his hips before he’s spilling into the condom, a final moan that follows his release as he collapses into you. Your chests rise and fall in sync, breaths heavy as you pant in the soft silence that fills the room.

The quiet brings a gentle comfort, basking in the bliss that radiates off each of you as you let yourselves drift back to earth, praying it gives you enough time to remember how to speak.

It’s Frankie who arrives back first, too consumed with your own journey back to hear the way his voice breaks as he carefully whispers your name.

“MacKenzie?”

“Yeah, Frankie?”

“C-can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

His sweet call brings you back, thumb brushing against the warmth of his cheek, waiting on every word he's working himself up to say.

“MacKenzie, I- MacKenzie, I- I think I love you.”

It's then you're sure your heart stops- four little letters forcing a smile so wide across your face, your positive your cheeks may hurt for days after.

Maybe, if you're lucky, they'll keep hurting like this for the rest of your life.

“Can I tell you something, Morales? I think I might just love you, too.”

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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sarawritestories · 1 year ago

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 4

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N comes to after being attacked and formerly meets the inner circle. Cassian and Y/N finally begin training, and he shows her around what he calls the heart of the Night Court.

Content Warning: Nightmares, flashbacks to under the mountain, Fluff

Word Count: 4.1

Chapter 3 Masterlist

A/N I want to take this moment to say thank you for all the love and support on this story! I am so grateful for you all! It honestly makes my day with every like and comment and reblog that I see! I hope you enjoy this chapter as we finally get some good Cassian X Reader quality time!

The Naga approached the sound of them slithering close causing me to whimper. One gripped my bound arms tightly from behind me, its dry tongue sliding up the column of my neck. The other gripped my breast tightly eliciting a shriek from the back of my throat. “A delicious treat, brother. Just for us.”

I begged for Rhysand to help, prayed he would make it in time. As the creature in front of me gripped my face puckering my lips as he pressed his to my own. I thrashed against them as hard as I could, but they were stronger than me.

Rhysand’s voice came clear as day but instead of sending help it was just my name.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Wake up, Y/N.” My eyes blinked open and violet eyes came into focus. Calloused hands grazed my damp cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It was just a Nightmare, Angel.” I sat up as he released my face and moved toward the edge of the bed. I looked behind him to find the chair Cassian was sitting in the night before empty and I tried to dampen my disappointment that he had left sometime after I had fallen asleep. Rhys looked to me, “Shields up, Y/N.” I jolted him and worked on building that wall around my mind as the High Lord continued, “I sent Cassian off this morning to run some errands for me. He put up a fight about before he left though.” He gave me a smile.

There was a comfort knowing that he stayed with me, but other thoughts whirled in my brain I sighed and rubbed my face, “Rhys, what happens now? Also where are we?”

“You’re in my townhome, this is where I reside normally. You were staying in what we call the House of Wind.” Rhys’ smile fades, “As for what happens next, there are two options we can take due to the fact you’re still human. The first, would be that we can send you back to the human lands and you would be able to be with your sisters.” I bit my lip as he prattled on, “Or option two, you become a member of the Night Court as my human emissary.” He grips my hand, “In my opinion, not that you asked for it, I would hope you would like to pick option 2. I would pay you well and you would be able to see Feyre every month. Not to mention, I like having you around.” I gave him a small smile and his eyes held unspoken emotion. “You remind me of someone I knew long ago, she would have loved you.” A tear slid down his perfect cheek.

I squeeze his hand, and with my free on wipe the tear from his cheek, “She must have been really special, if just mentioning her has this reaction. One day when you’re ready I would love to hear more about her.” I pause, “Especially all the reasonings as to why she would love me.” He laughed a boisterous laugh, and I was happy to take his sadness away.

When he stopped, he asked, “One day huh? Does that mean you would like to stay?”

“Yes, I would like to stay.” My stomach rumbled.

“We can discuss logistics and details on your position after we have gotten food in your stomach.” He rose. “There are clothes in the closet, Mor has already claimed you for the afternoon to go shopping.”

I quirked a brow, “So you knew I would say I wanted to stay?”

“No.” He opened the door and gave a playful smirked, “I was, however, hopeful that you would want to. Get dressed and come down to the stairs I’ll introduce you to everyone, formally.” With that he closed the door. I took a moment to look out at the window and gasped at the beauty of the city I am staring at. The sunrise coated the city in various shades of pink and orange the sun glimmering on the river as soft waves flowed down stream.

I got out of bed and discarded the nightgown I was gifted and put on the Teal sundress that had sheer sleeves and flowed down to my knees. I placed my hair up in a simple bun and walked down the stairs. Laughter erupted and I followed the sound I found a dining room that has almost every seat filled all for one that was in between Mor and Azriel. There was a short female with short black hair and mesmerizing silver eyes that rolled her eyes at the laughter and her eyes met mine. “Well, well, well, appears someone is awake.”

The laughter dies down, and all eyes turn on me and I rub the back of my neck, “Hi.” I whispered. Mor shot up and ran over to where I was and almost tackled as she wrapped me in a bone crushing hug.

“I’m so happy you’re staying with us.” Mor squeezed causing a squeak to come out of me.

“Mor, let her go you’re going to crush her.” The low timbre of Cassian caused me to meet his gaze and he gave me a smile and a playful wink as Mor released me mumbling the word asshole under her breath. She led me to the seat next to her and I gave Azriel a smile, he simply nodded his head.

“Okay as promised, formal introductions. You know Mor, obviously,” He points to Azriel, “This is Azriel, the Night Court’s Spymaster and our very own shadowsinger,” I looked to Azriel whose shadows swirled around him as if a part of him and he puffed his chest slightly a sense of pride of his High Lord’s words. “The tiny angry looking one over there is my Second in command, Amren.” She doesn’t look phased by how she’s introduced and raises her goblet to me and takes a sip. “Last but certainly not least, the General of the Night Courts armies, Cassian. Though I believe you two have been acquainted.” My head snaps at Rhys’ who gave us both a shit eating grin.

“Sorry, Princess, I may have told them about that night we met.” My eyes met the General’s hazel ones his face had a flush on them as he smiled.

I grabbed a croissant from the platter in front of me and took a bite, and gave him a smile, “That’s alright, General.” I took another bite as two puzzle pieces clicked together and I ask, “Are you still willing to train me?” I avert my gaze and pick at the pastry.

“Any reason why I wouldn’t want to?” He asked, the table has fallen to an uncomfortable silence awaiting my answer.

Flashes of last night whirl through my head, of how I couldn’t even push the Naga away from me. Before I’m able to catch it, a tear falls then another, and sobs unleash until I can’t stop them. I cover my face and let it wrack out of my system. I feel Mor’s hand rubbing my back and can feel a talon on my mental shields of Rhys trying to get me to let him in. Then there is the scraping of the chair, sound of large boots. Mor’s touch vanishes as my chair is gently pulled back. Large hands grip my wrist and give them a light tug as the sobs continue, as I meet Cassian’s face, there was no judgement or pity, if anything there was an underlying rage there. He grips my hands tightly as if to remind me that I’m safe and that nothing would harm me. I look at the table and everyone gazes hold the same sentiment.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Cassian softly ordered, I face him once more and his thumb is rubbing soothing circles and my heartrate spikes. “I promise, I will make sure that you will never feel powerless again. You were ambushed last night; you were wounded and left out to fend for yourself, no one here thinks that you are weak because of it.” He wiped the tears from my face. “Would you like to start today?”

I nodded my head, and he gave me a beautiful grin, “Wonderful, we can get you some training gear and you can meet me outside after we eat. Okay?” I nod again, and he squeezes my hands before letting them go and instantly missed the warmth they provided. As he stands pushes a free strand of hair from face and tucks it behind my ear, “You know what happened last night wasn’t your fault right?”

I bit my lip, “Maybe if I wasn’t so confrontational with Tamlin.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Girl,” Amren spoke for the first time since I entered the room, and everyone stilled. I met her gaze it was as if her irises were swirling with silver liquid, “Tamlin, is a coward and fool. He feeds off feeling superior over the weak.” Her red lips formed a smirk, “You weren’t willing to bend to him and challenged him. He simply used the one thing he had on you. The simple fact that your human. Make no mistake that Tamlin is the worm here.”

I tilted my head at her, and let her words really sink in and I blurted out, “You’re Stunning.” Heat immediately racing up my cheeks. Amren’s eyes widened a fraction as the table filled with laughter at the immediate shift in mood.

Amren smiled and tipped her head to me, “Likewise, girl, I think you’ll fit right in.”

Breakfast went on, and Rhys shared what my duties at Emissary would be, and he provided me with some fighting leathers that hugged every curve of my body. I made my way outside to find that Cassian was stretching, in his usual leathers with those gems on across his body. With the mid-day sun, he looked like one of the old gods long forgotten. He was beautiful, and the way he moved as he practiced made him lethal. His wings twitched, and his spine went rigid. He turned in my direction, “Right on time.”

I walked toward him, feeling disoriented by the heavy boots Rhys had given me. “What are these gemstones? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiled and I decided that I would never get tired of him smiling, his whole face lit up when he did the gesture showing genuine happiness there. “They’re called siphons they harness my power to make it easier to control. They are earned during this thing called the Blood Rite, an Illyrian tradition but I won’t bore you with the details about why we do it, or their backwards beliefs of them. Not today anyway.”

“Well, another time, I’ve never heard about Illyrians before. They are not talked about much in the history of the fae we’re taught back in the human lands.” I walk past him to where he was practicing, “I’m also a sucker for a good story.”

“Well, when I can steal you for more than an hour. You can ask me all the questions you would like.”

I crossed my arms, “Why would you have to steal me?”

Cassian quirked a brow, “You have met Mor, correct? She has not shut up about wanting to spend time with you.”

“Hmm. Well, I will need someone to show me around. Where are we exactly? As I know this is Rhys’ town home, but I’ve never seen a city as beautiful as this. Well, I’ve never really ventured far from our small cottage anyway.”

Cassian made a few strides toward me, “We’re in Velaris, the city of Starlight. I personally think it’s the heart of the Night Court.”

“I can’t wait to explore.” I was acutely aware of how close Cassian had gotten, leather and sandalwood infiltrating my nose. “So will you show me around?”

“Sure. Though you’ll break Mor’s heart.” Cassian joked and caused me to smile, “Alright, Archeron,” I turned to him and gone was the playful face is gone. Replaced with the serious gaze of a General. “Let’s get started.”

Cassian had me show him what Rhys had been teaching me and showed me some more stretches before he asked me how I would punch someone. I clenched my fist and Cassian immediately shook his head. “No, Princess, you hit someone like that you’re going to hurt yourself more than your opponent.” He came up and grabbed my hand. He opened my hand he began folding my hand where the tip of my fingers was tightly placed in the base of my palm. He then places my thumb over my index finger. “There, this will protect your fingers and give you the best chance of hurting someone instead of yourself.” He walks behind me and raises both fists and nudges my legs with his own to get me in the perfect stance my heart was racing at the mere touch and proximity of him. “Tomorrow we’ll go over exactly the best stance to throw a punch and keep your balance but standing like this,” He whispered in my ear and chills ran down my warm body. He moves my arm in a punching motion, his other hand on my waist twisting to move with the punch. He does it a few more times and after the fifth time he releases his grip and has me do those movements on my own. I could feel his eyes on me as I kept repeating the motion until he held up his hand. “Very good. I think we’ll call it for the day.”

I nodded and he walked over to hand me some water. “Thanks.” I sipped the water, and he drank some from his own cup. He grabbed my cup and placed it down with his. He pointed to the floor, “On your back, Princess.”

My face heated and I’m sure my cheeks were pink, “Why?”

Cassian smirked, “I’m going to help you stretch, its important to stretch the muscles so you’re not sore tomorrow.” He crossed his arms, “What were you thinking about?”

I huffed and followed his order to lay on my back. “I was thinking about nothing, grow up.”

Cassian knelt his hand rubbing my calf with a smirk, “I’m quite grown up, thank you. I’m over 500 years old.” My eyes widened at the fact as he bent my knee and pushed my leg toward my chest, the muscles stretched, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan.

“That feels divine.” I whisper and I hear a low chuckle as the General moved to the other leg. He met my eyes as he pushed back my leg, and I could not hold the moan this time. I covered my mouth as he placed my leg down and massaged my calves. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian looked like he wasn’t breathing his eyes holding something like yearning there but shook his head and waved me off, “Don’t worry about it, Princess. It’s a natural reaction,” He pat my legs and rise to his feet. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it he lifts me up with ease and releases my hand. “Good job today, we’ll pick up tomorrow.”

Rhys walked outside and tucked his hands in his pockets, “Mor, sadly had to go do her job and has left for a few days. So, your shopping spree has been put on hold.” Rhys shrugged, “I could take you around, and give you a tour of the city if you would like.”

I looked to Cassian, “If you don’t mind Rhys, could your General take me?” Cassian smiled and draped an arm around my shoulders. “If you don’t mind, Cass.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian looked at Rhys, “Do you mind if I steal her?”

Rhys smirked, “Not at all. Have fun you two.”

The two of us parted ways to bathe and change. A midnight blue top and matching pants were prepped for me as I came out of the bath, and I placed it the top on used to the slight mid drift. I placed my hair fall in its natural curls and placed it on moon pin in my hair and slipped on a pair of silver slip on shoes. I walked down to the front door to find Cassian, wearing a casual shirt with a leather jacket and pants. His wings were relaxed and tucked close behind him and his hair was in a half up bun.

He looked up as he heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, “Well you clean up nicely,” I teased elbowing him. He smiled and rolled his eyes at me.

Cassian’s eyes lingered on my outfit and back up to my eyes. “I could say the same about you, Princess.” He opened the door, and the late afternoon breeze tickled my skin, “Ready to go?”

I nod, and he lays a hand on my back and guides me out of the front door. Once he shut the door behind me, we were off. Cassian and I walked the busy streets of Velaris. We went into various shops looking at clothes and different works of art. I stopped when we were at a vendor selling various paintings. My heart sank, Feyre had not painted in months, and I doubt after yesterday she’ll ever want to. I would do anything if it meant that she would want to paint again. If I ever see her. Calloused hands grazed my neck and brought me out of my thoughts, “Where’d you go?”

“I want Feyre to paint again,” I whispered, “She loved to paint after we came out of Under the mountain she just wouldn’t. Now with last night will I be the reason she never paints again?” I cross my arms and I walk past the paintings, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if that were the reason.”

Cassian gripped my elbow, “Y/N, Feyre has her own healing journey to take, her reasons, for doing or not doing something are her own, you don’t need to shoulder responsibility for someone else’s grief.”

I give him a small smile and give his hand a pat, “Thanks Cas, but my job was always to protect her, and I took pride in securing that small ounce of peace she would get when painting. I would sneak money just to make sure she had enough paint.” I kept walking Cassian meeting my stride his wing flared and wrapped slightly around me almost protectively. “I was like that for Nesta and Elain I always made sure anything they wanted books for Nesta or plants for Elaine, tensions were high a majority of the time, I just tried to keep the peace and made sure everyone was happy and safe.”

Cassian was quiet as we approached a bookstore, and I gripped his arm with an excited squeal, “Can we go in here?” Cassian nodded and opened the door for me, and the smell of books and a thin layer of dust fills my nose and i couldn't contain my smile. I walk up and down the aisle, looking at all the stories. Cassian was a silent yet steady presence behind me. There was a portion of the store that had various leather-bound notebooks.”

“What about you?” I turned to Cassian my brows furrowed. “Feyre has painting, Nesta reading, and Elain had gardening. What did you like to do?”

I bit my lip and shrugged, “Protecting my sisters I guess.” I grazed the top on a journal, “I never really had the time to do anything, if I wasn’t chopping wood, or helping Feyre hunt, or trying to make money. I didn’t have time for hobbies.”

Cassian frowned and guilt washed over me for taking his smile away, “If you did have the time what would you have liked to do.”

I lifted a Journal and flipped through the blank pages, “Don’t laugh.” I looked at him, “I would have loved to write. Even if I didn’t know how to write, I would have loved to tell stories. The kind of heroes and villains and romance things that Nesta would read to me when I was small.” I placed the journal down and shrugged. “Just a silly little dream.” I give him a smile one to hide the lingering sadness. “Enough about that, I’m hungry.” Cassian’s frown deepened clearly seeing my deflection.

“I’ll be out in a minute. Rhys ironically enough wanted me to see if they had a book in stock. “ I nodded my head and walked out of the store. I looked out at the river and quickly walked over and leaned against the railing to stare out at the sea. The sun is beginning to set and enjoy the scenery around me. Soft waves crashed amongst the bridge, and the scent of the water spray filled the air. It was peaceful and serene.

I was entranced by its beauty that I didn’t even hear Cassian approach, his hand on back caused me to jump and turn. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for being a little jumpy. Did they have the book you needed?” I asked as he offered his arm for me to take, leading us to a little restaurant in an area he called earlier the rainbow.

Cassian shook his head, “No but I did find something else that piqued my interest.” He grabbed out of his pocket the leather-bound journal I was holding in the store and handed it to me, it felt as though the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

“Cassian-“

He interrupted me, “You may find that you have more free time here, you have worked hard to make sure your sisters were able to keep their hobbies. You should be able to explore something that interests you.” He gave you a smile “Plus I know there is one person for sure who would love to read whatever stories you come up with.”

I stopped, tears pooling in my eyes, “Cassian, I can’t repay you for this.”

Cassian also stopped, his hazel eyes warm and shining bright, “It’s a gift, Princess. Nothing to be repaid.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Cass.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around me. “You’re welcome, now let’s go get something to eat.” He pulled away and looped my arm with his once more and led us to dinner. At dinner he shared some stories of how he and Rhys met and how they met Azriel how they have been friends for centuries and in turn I told him of all the trouble Feyre and I used to get in before we lost our fortune and when it was over we fell into comfortable silence on the walk home.

Music played on the bridge, and it caused me to pause in my tracks. I gripped Cassian’s arms as my mind went back to late nights under the mountain.

Feyre had fallen asleep after sobbing, and I was still in the corner tears stained my face. The feeling of hopelessness taking over. I wish I had told Nesta and Elain how much I loved them before we left. I tucked my head into my knees and sobbed. Beautiful melody flooded my eardrums, something that held hope and happiness. Images flashed against in my mind of a beautiful orchestra on a bridge over river. The night sky was breathtaking as if they were swirling and dancing to the melody of the music. My eyes grew heavy as the melody hit the crescendo. I laid my head back and let the music sweep me into a peaceful slumber.

My breathing was labored, “Hey, hey, hey,” Cassian’s hand cupped my cheek, “what is it?”

“Rhys...he played this music in my head to help me sleep Under the Mountain.” Tears were streaming down my face clutching the journal Cassian bought me, “He was letting me know I wasn’t alone when I was convinced Feyre, and I weren’t coming out alive. He was showing me this band a piece of his home.”

Cassian eyes gleamed silver as well, “He’s annoyingly a good friend like that.” He looked over at the band as I chuckled, “Would you like to stay and listen for a little bit?”

“Please.” I whispered and he lowered his hand from cheek, but I reached out and laced my fingers with his. He tucked his wing around me to block the wind as we stood and listened to the music that kept me from breaking under the mountain.

Chapter 5

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen

#cassian x reader #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian x you #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #archeron sister #unwaveringpresence #cassian acosf #cassian imagine

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dotthings · 25 days ago

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Rewatching Taxi Driver, and thinking again how Benny’s arc is so so sad and tragic. Also that Dean never intended to kill Benny, that wasn’t Dean’s plan, and he believed it wasn’t Benny’s plan either. No actually, Dean didn’t kill Benny for Sam (no matter what guilt Dean feels that makes him pull onto his shoulders than he did, and he uses that to try to calm Sam down in the S8 finale, but that’s not what actually happened). It was Benny’s choice to stay in Purgatory when he could have ridden out with Sam.

Benny says he doesn’t belong with vampires or humans, he doesn’t belong anywhere, and while it’s unspoken, every reaction of Dean’s in that scene shows Dean believes Benny belongs with him. We know Benny would have found acceptance with Dean and the people Dean loves. Sam comes around after being in a combat situation with Benny in Purgatory—he finally gets why Dean trusts Benny and likes Benny. Even Cas and Benny had an uneasy grudging allyship eventually in Purgatory and I don’t think Cas would mind Benny. Even if they would get on each other’s nerves.

It clearly is heart-shattering for Dean to send Benny back to Purgatory so I don’t know where anyone, ever, could ever think, he only cares for Sam. It hurts a lot and that’s without Dean thinking it’s permanent.

But that’s twice someone Dean cares for chooses, by their own agency, to stay behind in Purgatory when Dean wants to save them, when Dean wants them to come back, to come to Dean’s sense of home, no matter where else they feel out of place. Cas-Benny parallels, we got ‘em. Cas who rejected the heavenly host, doesn’t belong among angels, and chooses humanity but doesn’t fit there easily. Benny, who rejected the ways of bloodthirsty vampires and rebelled, as we’ve seen from other vampires, and so he doesn’t belong among vampires, and not easy for him among humans. And Dean loves them both. I don’t care which you ship or don’t, but canonically, Dean cares a lot about Benny and about Cas and the fact that both of them chose to stay in Purgatory and the pain Dean feels about that.

#Dean Winchester #Dean meta #Benny Lafitte #Castiel #dot rewatches spn

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vilentia · 2 years ago

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could you make a daryl dixon x reader where he’s scared to show her his back because of his scars and thinks she’ll be repulsed by him but she’s not and she kisses over every scar and it’s just super fluffy and shit?

if not that okay ❤️

A Kiss for Every Scar

Daryl Dixon x reader

You could feel the tension in the air as you and Daryl sat together in silence. The atmosphere was thick with an unspoken weight that seemed to hang heavily between you. You knew something was wrong, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

It wasn't until Daryl stood up to grab something from his bag that you saw it. The scars on his back, jagged and angry, marred his otherwise smooth skin. You could tell they were old, but they were still fresh enough to stand out starkly against his pale flesh.

You reached out to touch them, but Daryl flinched away from your touch. "Don't," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear that you would be repulsed by the scars on his back. But you weren't. In fact, you found them beautiful in their own way. They were a testament to the strength and resilience of the man you loved.

Without a word, you stood up and gently urged Daryl to sit back down. As you looked at Daryl, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your heart. You had known him for a while now, and you knew he was a man who had been through a lot. His rough exterior was just a shell that he had built to protect himself from the harsh realities of the world around him. But now, as you looked at the scars on his back, you realized that there was so much more to him than what met the eye.

You wanted to know what had happened, what had caused those scars to form. But you knew better than to push him. Daryl was a man who didn't like to talk about his past, and you respected that. Instead, you decided to show him how much you cared in your own way.

As you sat behind Daryl, tracing your lips over each scar on his back, your heart ached with the knowledge of what he must have endured to bear such marks. The scars were jagged and rough against your lips, a testament to the battles he had fought and the hardships he had faced.

You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away with each kiss, and you knew that this was a moment of trust and vulnerability. Daryl had always been guarded, always keeping his emotions close to his chest. But now, with you, he was letting down his guard and showing you a side of himself that he had kept hidden for so long.

Your own emotions were a mix of sadness and love. Sadness for the pain that Daryl had endured, but also love for the strength and resilience that he had shown. You knew that it must have taken immense courage for him to show you his scars, to let you in on a part of his life that he had kept hidden from everyone else.

As you continued to kiss each scar, you could feel the tension in Daryl's body slowly dissipating. His breathing became more even, and his body started to relax in your embrace. You could tell that he was finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with you, to trust you with his deepest fears and insecurities.

The moment was intimate and raw, filled with unspoken emotions and unexpressed feelings. You could feel the weight of Daryl's past, the weight of his scars, but you also felt the weight of his love for you. It was a love that transcended physical imperfections and scars, a love that saw the beauty in the broken.

You continued to kiss each scar with a tenderness that surprised even you. Each one told a story, and you wanted to know them all. You wanted to know everything about the man you loved.

Finally, you had to stop to tend to the scratches on his back. You tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that came with it, but you couldn't help but feel like you had just scratched the surface of something deeper.

As you finished up, Daryl turned to look at you, his eyes full of emotion. "Thank you," he said again. "I never thought anyone could love me like this."

You smiled at him, hoping to convey all the love you felt in your heart. "I love you, Daryl," you said softly.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours for something. Then he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a sweet and tender kiss. It was a moment of pure love and passion, a moment when you both knew that your love was real.

As you pulled away, Daryl reached up to stroke your cheek. "I love you too," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "More than you'll ever know."

You smiled at him, feeling your heart swell with happiness. You knew that there was so much more to discover about Daryl, but for now, you were content to just hold him in your arms and cherish the moment.

As you sat there, wrapped up in each other's embrace, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together. A journey filled with love, trust, and a deeper understanding of the scars that had brought you both to this moment.

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queenshelby · 9 months ago

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Forbidden Desire (Part 23)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

An hour later, when Tommy stepped into the large bedroom he shared with Lizzie, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as he closed the door behind him.

He knew what, deep down inside, he wanted and this wasn't her . Lizzie wasn't the girl he yearned for night after night as he lay in bed, unable to chase away thoughts of you.

But this was the life he had chosen; a life with a woman who would bear him children, provide legitimacy, and bring his status within society up. This was the kind of respectable marriage that would keep his illegal business safe and hidden from plain view while gaining him political power.

As Tommy crawled beneath the covers, Lizzie sighed, recognizing your scent on his skin , but chose to ignore it for the sake of their carefully crafted illusion of a happy relationship.

After all, Lizzie and Tommy were about to begin the next chapter of their lives together, surrounded by the grandeur that Arrow House had to offer.

It was a life Lizzie couldn't have fathomed if it wasn't for the Shelby family. Coming from a poor upbringing, Lizzie had always dreamed of a life of luxury and prosperity.

She believed that being married to Tommy would shroud her name with power and influence, allowing her to reach heights she had never thought possible. When she accepted his proposal, her heart was full of both excitement and trepidation, knowing that this would be the biggest challenge she would ever face.

The fact that he slept with other women also never bothered him, although she knew that, with you, all of this was different. She hated the fact that he slept with you because she knew that he was, in fact, in love with you. She could feel the tension between you when you were together during family gatherings and the like, as if an unspoken electricity buzzed in the air. Lizzie would do her best to simply observe without getting involved, trying to figure out exactly what Tommy saw in you that he didn't see in her, but sometimes she lost her temper.

"Why her?" she thus asked, after about twenty minutes of lying there in silence, unable to go back to sleep.

Lizzie's voice, barely above a whisper in the darkness of the room, held a shade of anger that Tommy found familiar.

"Go to sleep, Lizzie," he simply muttered, his own voice heavy with fatigue.

He sighed deeply and settled back into the softness of the bed, his thoughts drifting back to you.

You were never far from his mind, even when he was laying next to Lizzie at night.

He couldn't quite put his finger on why you elicited such strong emotions within him, but there was no denying them.

The attraction was like a moth to a flame, unquenchable and irresistible in every regard.

It was a spark so fierce and unpredictable that it defied all reason and logic. This attraction was a dangerous obsession that would ultimately implode into an inferno.

But then again, he knew that, come tomorrow, things would change. He was going to marry Lizzie , the woman he chose to become his second wife. He would have to put the memories of you, his niece, aside, as much as it pained him to do so.

In the quiet of his dark bedroom, Tommy lay beside Lizzie's still figure. Her soft snores filled the silence between them, but they provided little comfort to Tommy. His mind was distracted, unable to focus on anything but you; your smile, the feel of your body against his, and your eagerness to please him in every way possible.

He had a love-hate relationship with this, but overall, it heightened his urges to have you.

***

On the morning that followed, the big day of your uncle's wedding had arrived and you really did not want to get out of bed.

Witnessing the union between Lizzie and the man you loved made you feel sick to your stomach.

Nonetheless, you got up and got dressed in velvet green gown that accentuated your physique.

You pulled your hair back into an elegant chignon, all the while staring at yourself in the mirror as you prepared for the emotional challenges ahead.

Every step toward Arrow House felt heavy with anticipation, regret, and longing.

The grand mansion bustled with wedding guests dressed to the nines, the air thick with perfume and excited chatter. Everyone was ready to head to the church and your uncle Tommy himself looked incredibly handsome in his tailored suit.

The tension was palpable, not just from the anticipation of the wedding ceremony, but also because of the secrets that everyone kept hidden. Secrets that, if exposed, could shake the very foundations of their world.

You made your way through the throngs of guests and slipped out onto the veranda, desperate for a moment of solitude. You leaned against the cold stone balustrade and took a deep breath, feeling the chilliness in your lungs as you gazed down at the rolling hills beyond.

The misty morning dew clung to the grass and hedges of the estate, shimmering in the weak sunlight. Your heart felt heavy as you watched a pair of birds soar effortlessly across the horizon, free and unafraid. What you wouldn't give to have that same freedom in this world full of constraints and burdens.

A gentle hand on your shoulder made you jump, but you collected yourself quickly and turned to face your father, Arthur Shelby. His rugged features were drawn further together with worry, his gray eyes searching yours.

"What's wrong, Love?" Arthur asked hoarsely, the hand on your shoulder a comforting weight as he too gazed out at the peaceful scene below.

The concern in his voice was clear, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for ruining the excitement for him.

You shook your head softly, unwilling to burden him with your secrets and this unwanted marriage. After all, he could never find out about the kind of relationship you had with his very own brother. "Nothing, Father. I just... I wish this day would pass quickly," you managed to answer as casually as possible.

Arthur's gaze became sharper, intuiting that there was something deeply troubling you, but he simply nodded and pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his chest.

"I know you are sad because of your fiancé's sudden departure but, trust me Love, you can do much better than him, eh?" your father said gently, causing you to chuckle.

"I know," you simply acknowledged while, the truth was that you had already forgotten about Robert.

He had been but a fleeting distraction from the one overwhelming desire that occupied every thought; it was only Tommy who evoked such strong feelings within you.

With Robert, sex felt, well, ordinary - not worth remembering. But with Tommy, passion erupted in the most inopportune moments, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed by longing.

Sensing your silence, Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders and together, you watched as the sun burned through the fog, glistening on the dewy grass below.

"Come on now Love, let's head off. No doubt we are going to be late," he then said, seeing that it was time for you to make your way to the church.

You took a deep breath and allowed Arthur to lead you back inside, where the atmosphere had ramped up another level; guests chattering in excited tones as they gathered their belongings and made their way out.

As you wound your way to the exit and through the crowds of people, you were acutely aware of the fact that, despite your happiness for Tommy's new marriage, there was a bitter emptiness, too. You wished things could be different.

You sighed, taking one last glance around the magnificent main foyer before making your way outside and to one of the many Bentleys that had been arranged to transport all the guests.

When you arrived at the church, your heart leaped into your throat at the sheer number of guests that had turned up to celebrate Tommy and Lizzie's wedding.

You could feel the weight of tradition and obligation bearing down on you as you took your seat next to your father, who gave you a reassuring smile and, soon after that, you saw as Tommy took his place at the alter , looking dashing in his wedding suit.

Your heart ached within your chest as you took him in, and as if sensing your gaze, he looked up. For just a moment, our eyes locked, and in that instant, you saw everything you needed to see; the guilt, the longing, the desire that mirrored your own.

He was deep in thought , staring at you with a mixture of regret and a need so fierce it made your heart race.

The guilt gnawed at you both, but the pull towards one another remained.

You watched as he took a deep breath, composing himself once more before turning back to face forward just as the wedding ceremony began and it was then that a single tear snaked its way down your cheek, the pressure in your heart almost unbearable.

You weren't sad because of Tommy's forthcoming marriage as such, but rather you were distraught because of what your relationship with him represented - a love and desire that went beyond accepted norms, meaning this could never be you. You could never be with him, no matter how much this was what you really wanted.

"I am sorry, I need some air," you told your father softly, slipping out of the pew as quietly as possible, but Tommy noticed .

His gaze lingered on you as you passed the crowds, the ache in your chest intensifying. You felt like there was a vice around your heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until all you could focus on was the pain.

Outside the church, you attempted to catch your breath but it was no use. All you could see, hear, and feel was him - Tommy Shelby. The man who had taken control of your very being since you realized you wanted him more than anything else in the world.

At the same time, you watched Lizzie, dressed in white, walking past and towards the alter where Tommy waited. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, but that did not stop the bitterness from flooding your mouth.

You knew what was going to happen next and you couldn't bear to watch. You felt like you were going to be sick and, despite the chilliness of the air, sweat beaded on your brow.

You could hear every word of the ceremony as if it was happening right in your ear - the priest's voice droning on and on until you heard Tommy begin with his vows...

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #tommy shelby #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic

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assortedvillainvault · 10 months ago

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Hi! I was browsing the Lord Shen tag and found your blog 👀. I loved the headcanons for ShenxReader through the wolf henchmen's pov ❤️.

Would you mind sharing some headcanons but from the pov of the fluffy Lord peacock himself?

Hi Anon, thank you so much!!

I'm so sorry that my Lord Shen Masterlist slipped my mind - I'm fighting tumblrs atrocious tag search to find my previous writings for him and get them on there for you. In the meantime please - have some more!

Lord Shen x Reader Headcannons

- This stuck up, mithery, hairpin tempered ball of anxiety and condescension is officially your problem now. I mean. You chose this, so I’ll leave it to you as to what end of the bad choices scale you’re landing on, but man. You sure picked.

- I also can’t get over the fact that – in China and most of the East: white is associated with death and sadness, and mourning. You not only picked the unhinged genocide gun bird, you picked the only person in all of China to be literally born emo via albinism.

- I will get back to the above, but I’m mcfucking losing it over the image of Shen being. The smaller of the two of you.

- Like if you were a smaller creature he could properly get his elegant noble stride on, nose in the air and tail gently swishing behind him as he circles you, admiring every angle and relishing the nervous, excited little glances you give him. He might not be a strictly predatory species but he sure loves that thrilling edge of not-quite-stalking. He’s too high class for the genuine article, that’s what he has the wolves for.

- But if you had the audacity to be larger than him?!

- He’d grind his teeth if he had any. He wants so badly to intimidate you – making sure to step with an extra click of metal coated talons, words honey-barbed and sticky as he looks for chinks in your armour, having to crane his head back and up to look you in the eye and- look- could, could you just- just lean down? Lean down for goodness sake just- there. There. Lovely. As he was saying…

- Shen going to go bananas planning the perfect courtship. Everything must be. Exactly. As he plans it. God forbid you trip on the stairs. If you bribe the guards to move all furniture two inches to the left you’re going to have a great time watching Shen’s eyelid twitch for twenty minutes as he tries to figure out what’s ticking him off.

- Want a shortcut? Say nice things about his cannon. No seriously, it’s not a euphemism (though it could be-)

- The cannon is the culmination of Shen’s ambitions, the reason for his exile, the demonstration of ingenuity that set him apart. Seeing you run a hand smoothly over the intricate castings and complimenting his life's work is going to fill him with so many butterflies he’ll have the wedding ready by noon.

- Of course he does, underneath all the royal snobbery and sass, really, genuinely like you. More than he ever thought he could ever like another person. Go you.

- ...He can’t contain the terror that you might not like him back. Not because of all the murder, no, that’s clearly not the issue. But because he isn’t perfect enough for you. Because he’s not enough.

- Shen popped out of his egg all but rocking the 2007 bangs and MCR soundtrack of his time: born the colours of death in a house and species traditionally all the colours of the rainbow will have been like a self fulfilling prophesy – unspoken but not forgotten as he grew up and internalised his inadequacy by striving for excellence in literally everything else in life.

- Excellence in the form of weaponry, security, excessive control and genocidal ruthlessness. Combined with ingenuity, high intelligence and paranoia: all wrapped in a package of straining courtly manners and a need to constantly have the upper hand.

- You keep taking the fucking rug out from under him by reversing the script and being nice. Even his nanny (soothsayer, who has having a great time munching popcorn and giving incidental commentary) gives him shit and drives him up the wall – yet you’re out here, smiling (how dare you-) and- and saying he looks good (he knows, knows he looks sickly and out of place, a reaper amongst royalty-) and – of course you want to hand his hand really, who wouldn’t (who would?) - he’s fine, he’s fine-

- If he dared to let you go, he’d shatter like a discarded doll.

- How does it feel, reader, to hold the fate of all China in the balance of your smile?

#thalassa responds #thank you so so much for the ask!!#x reader #kfp lord shen #lord shen #lord shen x reader #kfp lord shen x reader #ahhh that critical combo of parental issues and chronic instability vs a need for love so intense whole nations are at risk. gotta love it.#disaster bird.#@rose your man is breaching containment

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jecook · 13 days ago

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Dabihawks Fanfic Recs #4

(In no particular order)

Fic Rec List #1 Fic Rec List #2 Fic Rec List #3 LoV Found Family List

it is what it is (until it isn't) Starship_Phoenix @starship--phoenix Complete Rating: T Words: 7,811 Chapters: 1/1 Summary: Dabi hates Hawks. Hawks hates Dabi. But then Hawks surprises Dabi with a trip to the mountains. With the captive audience he's always been waiting for, Dabi lets Hawks know just how he feels about the HPSC's new "Buddy Program;" society's new alternative to life-sentences. He also discovers just how he feels about Hawks.

Notes: Everyone loves an unreliable narrator, and Dabi has no clue what is going on. Soft story, bitter Dabi, and overall lovely winter read. Star weaves a tightly written narrative absolutely worth reading.

hit and run DrAphra @draphrawrites Incomplete Rating: T Words: 11,740 Chapters: 3/? Summary: A hit and run, of all things, is what changes the course of Dabi’s life.

Notes: I have reread this fic more times than I can count. I am an enjoyer of some serious hurt + comfort in the form of amateur first aid, so Dabi struck by a vehicle and left with only Hawks to care for him is the best meal in the world, to me. Aphra writes injuries and tending to them with precision that might make some squirm but truly brings a wrecked character to life. A must-read for lovers of sad, wet rat, injured blorbos.

Kintsugi Stormysilverfox Complete Rating: T Words: 47,976 Chapters: 9/9 Summary: Dabi, person-roasting, hero-hating, A-ranked villain, is an omega.

It’s not necessarily a problem, only Hawks is fairly—hm, positively—certain that the pyro has no idea. It’s obvious what the HPSC would say. You’re an alpha Hawks, extort him, use a command on him. That was an unspoken order to honeytrap him then, since a command would only be as effective as Dabi’s affection was strong. Better not to tell them, better to pretend he hadn’t realised.

All his plans disintegrate around him when Dabi starts nesting in his apartment. Ironically enough, his biggest concern is dislodging him before he settles permanently, not exploiting him. He’s well aware that an omega will not give up their nest once it’s started, enemy apartment or no. And all without alerting Dabi to the fact that he’s even nesting at all, because Hawks has no desire to be cremated along with the other evidence once he realises.

Accidentally falling in love with him wasn’t supposed to be in the cards. Hawks fucking honeytrapped himself, like a moron. This was exactly what they taught you not to do.

Losing him to the Commission isn’t supposed to happen either.

Notes: Listen to me: are you nervous to read A/B/O? Open your mind to Safe For Work Omegaverse. This fic is soft, comforting, and honestly? I’m due for a reread. Like the title suggests, this fic is healing. A story to put you back together again, Kintsugi is a comfort read.

as we lay among the forsythias Goldtinted Incomplete Rating: M Words: 92,961 Chapters: 4/5 Summary:

“You used to love blabbering on and on. What happened to you, Keigo?” It’s the second time Touya has ever used his real name. He’s not as startled as he was the first time he heard it. The element of surprise is gone, but Hawks still feels something small and sharp stab at his chest. He wonders what Touya’s endgame is here. “I fought in a war.” He says simply, shrugging. Touya laughs again, louder this time, a cold, harsh sound that reverberates across the barrier and around the room. The guards behind Touya start to move forward, and Hawks can sense shuffling beyond the door behind him. “Well guess what, birdbrain? I did too.”

As the dust settles after the war, amidst social turmoil and societal reform, between three centimetres, seventy-eight square kilometres, and a dance of thirty odd steps, Hawks and Touya slowly recover. In the process, they find themselves falling in love again.

Notes: I totally thought this fic was complete until I started writing this rec. I’m shocked - I felt so fulfilled by this story that I just… imagined it must have ended. Well, still go read and support this fic and give the author lots of love for a wonderful post-canon that lives in my heart forever. Also, the narrative structure is so cleverly crafted and worth reading for that alone, not to mention the arc Dabi and Hawks take in this fic.

One more time (and maybe you’ll get it right this time) juurensha @juurensha Complete Rating: M Words: 19,677 Chapters: 3/3 Summary: “…sure,” Dabi says finally, “Do you think the answer is still with you joining the League of Villains?”

“Of course it is! Or else why do I keep rewinding to this moment here?” Hawks spits out, flinging his arms around. “But you know what? This time I need a break. I’m just going to go on vacation, and both you and the Hero Commission can go to hell, and maybe this time I’ll be able to tell what resets everything. Or who knows, this is what solves everything.”

Notes: More than just moving, this fic is a technical achievement. Not a spoiler–this is a time loop fic told from the POV of Dabi, despite Hawks being the one looping. I’m a fan of interesting story structure, and this one certainly delivers.

Minutes to Midnight Bacchant @transhawks Complete Rating: T Words: 51,645 Chapters: 7/7 Summary: "Something’s wrong," Hawks thinks again. "And this isn’t the right place to figure it out."

An unknown quirk that only shows itself as a mysterious tattoo on his arm sends Hawks careening into different worlds, all seemingly designed to make him ask himself what if he'd made different choices in his life. In each life, he learns a bit more about himself, and who he could have been, and gets closer to answering the biggest question of all: just who is Takami Keigo?

Takami Keigo will travel to different dimensions, break out of simulations, challenge the established rules of quirk science, and bring a man back to life before going to therapy.

Notes: I tricked you! This one isn’t dabihawks! I’ve lured you in with sweet, sweet dabihawks only to show you this fantastic Hawks-centric fic. I know. Detestable. Well, if you’re reading this list, I assume you enjoy dissecting Hawks like a frog in a middle-school science class, and this fic does just that. Bacchant is a master of writing meta about our favorite murder bird and does so here through a collection of alternate lives he could’ve lived. The journey winds in ways you might not expect, and the ending those twists deliver will stick with you. For fans of Hawks, definitely give this fic a read.

Lastly, after fives rec lists, a shameless self-plug: I'm Haslenoot on ao3, if you'd like to take a glance at my work, as well <3

Don't forget to leave those kudos, comments, and subscribe where applicable! And if you feel so inspired, fic recs are a great way to engage with fandom, support your peers, and preserve fandom. While I love searching ao3, it can be a lot for people new to a big fandom! Many of readers enjoy rec lists, but often they can be hard to find or locked within Discord servers. Fic rec lists are findable through search engines. I've read fics off lists that are years old, which is, in a way, an archive of the fandom at that time. So make lists! Post them publicly! Hype up your friends!

And as always, happy reading!

#dabihawks #dabihawks fic rec #bnha fic rec #fic recs #fic rec #toukei #takami keigo #keigo takami #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #mha #bnha #pls lmk if i missed any tags!!#i'm not sure who all has a tumblr

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afrsconp · 1 month ago

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A little holiday gift for the Tumblr Nisaac ghosties, with extra thanks to @yourstrulyray, whose post partly inspired the ending.

Thanks everyone for being so welcoming to a latecomer like me. <3

Written for the prompt: Your fave ship had some troubles and broke up but they're getting back together during the holidays.

(Which is obviously a Nisaac prompt if ever there was one.)

He finds Nigel on the little stone bench outside, where they’d first decided to try just being friends. And by anyone's measure, they’ve succeeded–more than a year has gone by since, and it's been one of the best of Isaac's afterlife that he can recall.

It wasn't until they started spending time together again that Isaac really understood why he'd been so out of sorts before. Not just lingering upset over the failure of their nuptials, but just the simple fact that he missed Nigel. Missed walking with him, conversing with him, even arguing with him. Isaac hadn't realised how much time they'd come to spend together once they started dating, nor how much he'd come to rely on Nigel's advice, or wit, or comfort whenever he needed it.

And Nigel never failed to provide it. Never fails, Isaac corrects himself now, as Nigel is as thoughtful and considerate a friend as he was a romantic partner. Isaac hopes he's done as much for Nigel, but in truth, he's really not so sure.

“Isaac,” Nigel says in greeting, when he sees Isaac coming towards him.

The noise of the Christmas party is muffled out here, but they can still hear the laughter and the music spilling out of the windows, still feel the warmth of the happiness and joy of their friends–living and ghost alike–inside the house proper. Isaac isn't really a sentimental man but the thought makes him smile, as does the sight of a man that's occupied a great deal of his thoughts for the better part of 300 years now.

“Nigel,” he greets in return, and sits beside him on the bench. Nigel's uniform suits the surroundings, the red of his coat a festive flash of colour amidst the grey stone of the house and the pristine white of newly fallen snow. He looks like something out of a postcard, or a picture book, or a–

A dream, Isaac thinks. A dream he's held for a very, very long time.

“I was wondering where you'd gone,” Isaac adds. His voice is soft; for some reason, it doesn't feel right to speak too loudly out here.

“I just needed a moment,” Nigel replies. His voice, too, is quieter than it usually is.

“For?”

Nigel is silent for some time, looking into the darkness beyond the yard and towards the woods in the distance. Isaac can't see his face clearly; not only is it dark but he's also in profile, keeping his eyes from Isaac's view. It makes it difficult to guess what he's thinking as his eyes have always been the most expressive thing about him. Often even more so than his words, which is saying a lot considering how eloquent the man can be.

“To get my thoughts in order,” Nigel says eventually. He turns then, and gifts Isaac with a small smile of his own. “I'm sorry,” he adds. “I don't mean to bring the mood down. This time of year just tends to draw the melancholy out of me.”

Isaac sits back a little, surprised. “It does?” he asks. “You seemed quite happy when we–”

Too late, he remembers what happened the last–and only–Christmas they spent together. The mistletoe, the liaison, the long-awaited kiss in the shed. Nigel must know what thoughts cut off Isaac's words and he smiles again, but now that Isaac can see his eyes it's obvious that the expression isn't genuine. Indeed, if anything, it just makes Nigel look even more sad.

“I'm sorry,” Nigel repeats. “It's just… old memories, that's all. I promise you, Isaac, I value your friendship a great deal, and I'm very glad to have it.”

Isaac knows him well enough now to know that he's being sincere, but he can also tell that there are things Nigel is holding back, too. Kept locked away and secret behind his sad eyes and carefully worded answers; kept silent and unspoken for as long as Isaac refuses to hear them.

And there's the catch, really; there's the rub. Isaac does hear them, and perhaps always has. It's just taken a lot longer than any man should need to endure for Isaac to really understand what they mean. And by some miracle that Isaac is sure he doesn't deserve, Nigel did–and does–endure it, and likely always will.

“As I'm glad to have yours,” Isaac tells him, and gets another, sweeter smile in response. It warms Isaac down to his bones, and gives him the courage to do what he'd come out here to do in the first place.

He doesn't really know why it feels so much harder now than it did before; surely the second time should be easier, since he's already had something of a practice run. But the weight of everything that’s happened between them hangs heavy in the air, and the full knowledge of what he's admitting to, and accepting, is almost overwhelming.

I like you, he'd said the first time. A vague and somewhat childish statement, for a vague and somewhat childish feeling, made by a version of himself who, despite an existence that spanned centuries, was likewise rather childish and vague himself. Please don't make me say it again, he’d added, when Nigel looked equal parts confused and hopeful, unsure of what Isaac really meant.

But Isaac is not that man anymore, and neither is Nigel. Childish and vague are the opposite of what he wants this second time to be. Second and last, if he does this correctly. If he's right about the nature of the secrets Nigel keeps so close to his chest.

“Nigel,” he starts. He stares at his hands, unsure if he can look Nigel in the eye for this.

“Yes, Isaac?”

Isaac opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. His jaw works but his throat does not, closing up and choking off the words he'd planned so carefully to say. Nigel just looks at him, however, and doesn't rush him; patient in a way he wasn't before, when Isaac’s denials prompted him to walk away.

You're not that man anymore, Isaac reminds himself. And neither is he.

“I love you,” Isaac says. It's a simple statement, simply said, but what it conveys for both of them is immense.

Nigel stares blankly for a moment, before the words sink in and his eyes go wide. He looks more shocked than when Isaac proposed, and his voice is faint when he stutters, “W-what?”

“I love you, Nigel,” Isaac repeats. He takes a steadying breath, then says the rest of what he prepared to say. “I think perhaps I always have; I just didn’t really know it until now. Perhaps I wasn't ready to. But… after everything I've done, and how much I hurt you, I'll understand if you no longer feel the same wa–”

He's abruptly cut off when Nigel's lips crash into his, Nigel's hands cradling his face like he's holding something precious, palms shaking against Isaac's cheeks. Isaac kisses back, unable to stop himself even if he wanted to–and he doesn't want to, not now and not ever.

And that, really is the heart of the matter. Because for them, forever is not just a trite little phrase, to be uttered in the heat of the moment or woven into vows that only last a single lifetime. For them, it's a real and true commitment, with real and true consequences that both of them understand all too well.

And now, it's a promise made and accepted. Because when Nigel pulls back and meets Isaac's gaze, every secret he'd kept hidden away is revealed in full in those wide green eyes, as arresting now as when Isaac first saw them through a spyglass more than 250 years ago. More arresting, really, because now they look at Isaac with clear joy and love spilling from them unhindered, and Isaac can only hope his own eyes mirror even a fraction of the same emotion, because he certainly feels it, in every single part of himself. In his chest, tight with happiness; in his stomach, fluttering with relief; in his heart, swelled to bursting with–

“I love you, too, Isaac,” Nigel says. He strokes Isaac’s cheek and stares at him with something like wonder on his face. “Always.”

Isaac leans in and kisses him again, soft and gentle, taking his time. He doesn't need to say anything more; the look on Nigel's face confirms that he understands what Isaac is offering him now, as well as Nigel's own answer to it. But if this really is the last time he’ll do this–with Nigel, or with anyone–Isaac wants to make it count.

"Always, Nigel,” Isaac confirms. Promises. Vows. “And forever, too.”

#nisaac #cbs ghosts #my fic #will be moved to AO3 sometime after New Year's #Suggestions for a title are welcome

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reaper2187 · 8 months ago

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Lady lesso x never female reader

Lady Lesso stood at the edge of the School for Evil’s grand balcony, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the twisted towers and jagged spires that marked her domain. She found solace in the stillness of the night, away from the chaos of her students' schemes and betrayals. Her thoughts, however, were never truly at rest, especially now with a new presence in her life—Y/N, her right-hand confidante, and the one person who seemed to understand the complexities of her soul.

Y/N had arrived at the School for Evil under unusual circumstances. She was neither a witch nor a villain by nature. In fact, she wasn’t even a Never. Yet, she fit seamlessly into the dark, foreboding world of Lady Lesso. It had taken Lesso some time to understand the enigma that was Y/N, but over time, an unspoken bond formed between them, one that transcended the usual relationships within the school.

As Lady Lesso stood lost in her thoughts, she felt a presence behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was Y/N. There was a certain quiet elegance to her movements that Lesso had come to recognize instantly.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Y/N’s voice was soft, almost tender, a stark contrast to the harshness that surrounded them.

Lesso turned to face her, the moonlight illuminating Y/N’s features. “It seems the chaos of the day refuses to leave my mind,” she replied, her voice tinged with a rare hint of vulnerability.

Y/N stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “You carry too much on your shoulders, Leonora. Even the most formidable need someone to share the burden.”

Lesso raised an eyebrow at the use of her first name. It was a liberty only Y/N could take without facing her wrath. “And you, Y/N, what burdens do you carry? You hide them well.”

Y/N smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “Perhaps I do. But tonight isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

For a moment, Lesso allowed herself to be just Leonora, the woman behind the feared Dean of Evil. She sighed and looked out over the darkened landscape. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be free of all this?” she asked, gesturing to the school, the towers, and the endless responsibilities.

Y/N nodded. “Every day. But then I remember that freedom comes in different forms. For me, it’s in the little moments of joy, the stolen glances, and the quiet conversations.”

Lesso’s heart skipped a beat. She knew what Y/N was alluding to, and it scared her as much as it thrilled her. The unspoken feelings between them had grown stronger with each passing day, and now, standing under the moonlight, the weight of those feelings was almost unbearable.

“Y/N,” Lesso began, her voice barely above a whisper, “what is it that you see in me? Why do you stay?”

Y/N took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I see a woman who is strong and fierce, but also vulnerable and kind. I stay because, in this dark world, you are my light. You are the reason I can endure the darkness.”

Lesso’s eyes met Y/N’s, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to be truly seen. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and Y/N took it, their fingers intertwining.

“Leonora,” Y/N said softly, “you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

In that moment, Lady Lesso realized that the connection she had with Y/N was not just a fleeting feeling. It was something deeper, something that had the power to change her life. She pulled Y/N closer, their foreheads touching, and for the first time, allowed herself to imagine a future where she wasn’t defined by her role as the Dean of Evil, but by the love she felt for this remarkable woman.

Time seemed to stand still as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace. The moonlight bathed them in a silvery glow, casting long shadows that intertwined like their fates. In the silence, a new promise was forged—a promise of companionship, of understanding, and of love.

As the first light of dawn began to break, Lesso knew that their path wouldn’t be easy. The School for Evil was not a place that welcomed love, especially not for its formidable dean. But with Y/N by her side, she felt a newfound strength, a resilience that she hadn’t known she possessed.

“Whatever comes,” Y/N whispered, “we’ll face it together.”

Lesso nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of fear and hope. “Together,” she echoed, knowing that with Y/N, she could face anything.

And so, as the sun rose over the School for Evil, Lady Lesso and Y/N stood hand in hand, ready to face the challenges ahead. Their journey was just beginning, and though the road would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, they knew that they had found something precious in each other—a love that could withstand even the darkest of nights.

In the days that followed, their bond grew stronger. They learned to navigate the complexities of their relationship while maintaining their roles within the school. There were moments of doubt, of fear, but also of unparalleled joy and connection. And through it all, they held onto each other, knowing that their love was their greatest strength.

Lady Lesso, once the solitary and feared dean, found herself transforming in ways she hadn’t thought possible. With Y/N’s unwavering support, she began to see the world not just through the lens of power and control, but through the softer, more compassionate perspective that Y/N brought into her life.

In return, Y/N found her place in a world that had once seemed so foreign and hostile. With Lesso, she discovered her own strength and resilience, and together, they created a sanctuary amidst the chaos—a place where love and trust could flourish, even in the heart of darkness.

Their love story became a whispered legend within the halls of the School for Evil, a testament to the power of love and the possibility of redemption. And though the path they walked was often shrouded in shadows, they faced it side by side, their hearts forever entwined.

#lesbian #wlw #wlw post #lady lesso #lady leonora lesso #the school for good and evil #lady lesso x reader #leonora lesso #lady lesso x you #lady lesso x female reader

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nickeverdeen · 5 months ago

Note

So uh, I know this is probably getting annoying by now, but I really feel like reading fluff at the moment, so-

Could I get hurt/comfort headcanons where Ellie (TLOU2) returns and makes up with the air-headed Reader?

Thank you in advance, love your work

Not annoying, don’t worry!

————————————————————

Ellie Williams x Air-head reader part 3

Three years had passed since Ellie left, leaving a void in your life that you tried to fill with routine, but the ache of her absence never truly faded

Every day, you checked the logbook at the gates of Jackson, hoping against hope to see her name

Each day it wasn’t there, and each day it hurt a little more

You buried yourself in work, trying to distract yourself from the lingering pain

Yet, despite the distractions, your thoughts often wandered back to Ellie

Jackson noticed the change in you

You still had that air-headed, carefree demeanor, but now there was a sadness that lingered beneath the surface, a shadow that never quite left your eyes

One day, while routinely scanning the logbook, your heart skipped a beat. Ellie’s name was there, freshly inked. She was back

Shock, anger, and a pang of longing washed over you

After all this time, she had returned, but you weren’t sure how to feel about it

Instead of running to her, you kept your distance

The fear of reopening old wounds kept you from seeking her out immediately

But in a town as small as Jackson, it was inevitable that your paths would cross. It happened in the market, where you were picking up supplies, and suddenly, there she was—standing a few feet away

Your eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop

She looked older, more worn, with eyes that carried the weight of everything she had been through and two of her fingers are missing

You felt your heart ache, but also anger simmering beneath the surface

She had choosed her revenge over your companionship

Ellie stood there, visibly struggling with her emotions, before finally offering a small, hesitant greeting, one that carried the weight of all that had happened

You stared at her, anger bubbling up

How could she just show up like this, after all this time, and expect things to be okay?

She apologized, her voice soft and filled with regret

You could see the guilt in her eyes, but it wasn’t enough to wash away the pain she’d caused

Your mind raced back to the moment you had parted ways, the argument still fresh in your memory

You had begged her to stay, to come back with you to Jackson, but she had chosen her path—leaving you behind

Ellie admitted she had been lost, chasing after something that ultimately only brought more pain

But that didn’t change the fact that she had hurt you

You couldn’t just forgive her

The wounds were too deep, the scars still fresh

It wasn’t that simple

She didn’t push, sensing your hesitation

Instead, she simply asked for a chance to try and make things right, to prove that she was sorry

You were torn

A part of you wanted to let her in, to try and mend the rift between you, but the pain she had caused was still too raw

You agreed to talk, but only because you needed closure

You led her to a quiet spot by the watchtower

Sitting there, the memories flooded back, and you felt the weight of everything you had been through together

The silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken words

Ellie quietly sat beside you, keeping a respectful distance, waiting for you to make the first move

The air between you was thick with unresolved emotions

You finally spoke, asking if she regretted leaving

It was a question that had haunted you for years, one that you needed an answer to

Ellie’s eyes were distant as she nodded, acknowledging the mistake she had made

She didn’t need to say the words; you could see the regret etched on her face

You both sat in silence, the weight of her regret hanging in the air

It wasn’t enough to erase the pain, but it was a start

Ellie began helping around Jackson, doing her best to prove herself to you and the community

She took on difficult jobs, showing that she was serious about making amends

You watched her from a distance, unsure if you could trust her again

The pain of her abandonment still lingered, even as you saw the changes in her

Ellie didn’t push you to forgive her, but she made her presence known

She started with small gestures—bringing you things she knew you liked, leaving a flower on your doorstep

Your heart began to soften, despite your attempts to keep the walls up

The small acts of kindness were a reminder of the Ellie you once knew, the one you had missed so dearly

But you weren’t ready to forgive her yet

The hurt ran too deep, and you couldn’t let go of it that easily

One evening, you found yourself sitting by the watchtower again, the memories of your last confrontation with Ellie replaying in your mind

She found you there, sitting quietly a few feet away

The silence between you was charged, but this time, it was less tense

There was a tentative understanding, a fragile truce

Ellie hesitated, then moved a little closer, her presence a quiet comfort

She didn’t say anything, simply letting you know she was there if you wanted to talk

You didn’t speak for a long time, the two of you sitting in silence

It was both comforting and painful, the memories of your past friendship lingering in the air

Finally, you asked her why she had come back

It wasn’t an easy question, but you needed to know if she was here for the right reasons

Ellie didn’t have a simple answer, but you could see in her eyes that she was sincere

She had come back because she needed to, because she couldn’t stay away any longer

You felt the anger begin to dissipate, replaced by a deep sadness

You had both been through so much, and neither of you had come out unscathed

Ellie reached out to you, her hand trembling slightly as she touched yours

The contact was both familiar and foreign, a reminder of what you had lost

You allowed her to hold your hand, though you kept your guard up

The days that followed were a slow, cautious dance around each other

You couldn’t help but notice the way she had changed

The weight of her experiences had altered her, made her more serious, more thoughtful

She was still Ellie, but she was also someone new

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself seeking her out more often

Ellie never took your tentative steps toward reconciliation for granted

One evening, you finally opened up to her, telling her how much her leaving had hurt you, how you had struggled to let her go

Ellie listened, her heart breaking as you recounted the pain she had caused

She knew she couldn’t undo the past, but she was determined to make things right in the present

The more you talked, the more the anger began to fade, replaced by a deep sadness

You had both lost so much, but maybe, just maybe, you could find a way back to each other

Ellie started to help you with your daily tasks, not saying much but always being there

You began to realize that Ellie was genuinely trying to make amends, that she was doing everything in her power to show you that she was sorry

There were still moments of tension between you, times when the past would resurface, and the pain would feel fresh again

But those moments grew fewer as time passed

Ellie’s persistence paid off, as you found yourself slowly letting your guard down

The walls you had built to protect yourself began to crumble

You started to spend more time together, falling back into old routines—going on patrols, cooking meals, even just sitting in silence

Ellie never pushed you to forgive her, but you could see the hope in her eyes every time you took a step closer to her

As weeks turned into months, you found yourself laughing with her again, sharing moments of quiet companionship that felt like they belonged to another life

The first time you initiated a conversation about the future, Ellie was taken aback

It was the first sign that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to move forward

Ellie promised to stay by your side, to rebuild the trust she had broken

You still had moments of doubt, times when the hurt would resurface and you’d pull back

Gradually, you began to forgive her, though it wasn’t a conscious decision

Ellie noticed the shift in you, the way you started to seek her out more often, the way you allowed yourself to relax around her

You began to trust her again, though it was a fragile trust, one that would take time to fully rebuild

But it was a start

The day you finally told her that you forgave her, it wasn’t a grand moment

It was quiet, almost understated, but it meant everything to both of you

Ellie didn’t say anything in response, simply pulling you into a tight hug, her relief palpable

You could feel her trembling, the weight of your forgiveness finally lifting from her shoulders

In that moment, you realized how much you had both been carrying, how the burden of the past had weighed you down

But now, you were both ready to let it go

The road ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but you were willing to walk it together

You had lost each other once, but you weren’t going to let it happen again

You started to rebuild your friendship, piece by piece, finding comfort in the small things—shared meals, quiet conversations, and the simple act of being together

Ellie’s presence in your life became a source of strength, a reminder that no matter how much you had both been through, you could still find a way forward

As the days passed, the tension between you continued to ease, replaced by a growing sense of peace

The past was still there, but it no longer defined you

You found yourself opening up to her more and more, sharing your thoughts and feelings, even the ones you had buried deep inside

Ellie listened without judgment, her presence a constant source of support

The first time you held her hand again, it was a quiet, almost hesitant gesture, but it felt right

It was a small step, but it meant everything

You both knew that the scars of the past would never fully fade, but you were willing to live with them, to let them remind you of how far you had come

Ellie started to show you more of herself, the side of her that she had kept hidden for so long

She was vulnerable with you, opening up about her own pain and regrets

You listened, offering her the same support she had given you

It was a mutual understanding, a bond that had been reforged in the fires of your shared experiences

As the months turned into a year, you found that you had reached a new level of understanding with Ellie

You began to make new memories together, ones that weren’t tainted by the past

Ellie never took your forgiveness for granted, always making sure to show you how much she appreciated your willingness to let her back into your life

You had been through the worst, and you had come out the other side stronger

The first time you laughed together again, really laughed, it was like a weight had been lifted

The tension that had been there for so long was finally gone

Ellie’s smile was genuine, the first time you had seen it in years

It was a small victory, but it felt monumental

You found yourself falling back into old habits, but this time, there was a new sense of understanding between you

Ellie teached you to play her guitar as she herself couldn’t

You would sit together in comfortable silence, the music washing over you, bringing a sense of peace that had been missing for so long

The first time you stayed with her overnight again, it was a quiet, unspoken decision

You simply fell asleep next to her, the comfort of her presence enough to keep the nightmares at bay

Ellie held you close, her arms wrapped around you as if she was afraid to let go

You woke up the next morning with a sense of calm, the first time in years that you felt truly at peace

Ellie was still there, holding you as if nothing had changed

As the days passed, you began to feel like yourself again, the person you had been before everything fell apart

Ellie noticed the change in you, the way you had finally let go of the past

She felt a huge relief knowing she got a second chance

#request #headcanons #the last of us x reader #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams

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i-heart-hxh · 9 months ago

Note

During the shinju scene,meleoron mentions theres something killua cant tell him, what is it that killua couldnt tell him?

from what i seen,shinjuu isnt always romantic,was it he couldnt tell meleoron he was going to die w gon because of his romantic feelings

The line

meleoron:‘if you joking,whyd u have that incredibly sad look on ur face(talking about when he was observing killua with gon)’ ‘you cant tell me,so i wont ask’ or in different translations its ‘cant you tell me?’ But in the original japanese its about being unable to tell somebody something

Hello!

So, I decided to just post (most of) these two pages because I think seeing the art and layout of the actual pages helps with understanding exactly what's going on and also analyzing it. I also went and looked at the pages in Japanese just to see if anything stood out. Aside from the famous shinjuu line, the translation seems fine.

Just to summarize and be clear before I launch into further analysis: In this scene, Killua says (with a rather dark expression) that the worst case scenario is he and Gon die together in a lovers suicide. Killua sees that Meleoron is rather vexed/taken aback/discouraged by this response and doesn't know what to say, so then Killua immediately claims he's just kidding and that they'll be okay after all, and he knows how to snap Gon out of it.

Meleoron then internally doubts that Killua is kidding about this, because he was there when Gon said the "It has nothing to do with you," (essentially) line that pushed Killua away, and he saw how heartbroken Killua looked by that. He then decides it's not worth asking because Killua clearly doesn't want to be honest about his feelings, he can't or won't express what he's going through, so he backs off.

I'm glad you brought this up because it's a piece of the whole shinjuu scene that people don't talk about as much, but this whole exchange and Togashi bothering to show Meleoron's reaction to it in the first place says a lot about the importance of the scene. If Meleoron didn't pause and connect this to Killua's earlier heartbroken moment (and notice how it takes up literally half of the page--it's important!), it would be easy to read on past it without thinking about it more deeply.

In other words, this further exchange with Meleoron is emphasis. It's there so the readers don't simply gloss over what Killua said about the shinjuu, and so the readers understand that he means it, that no matter what he says to the contrary, Killua is in fact serious about this possibility. It's there to slow things down enough so the readers can reflect on and ask their own questions about the situation.

I'm sure this is why Togashi bothered to put Meleoron in the scene with Gon pushing Killua away in the first place--there was no other reason for him to be there, other than being an observer of this moment and standing in to ask these questions.

Meleoron--an outside observer without as much context for Gon and Killua's relationship as the rest of us--wonders what's going on here, why Killua looked utterly destroyed by a few simple words. But because he saw Killua's immediate urge to lie and say it's a joke when he hesitated, he knows Killua won't open up to him about exactly what's going on, why Killua was so devastated by what Gon said to him and why Killua intends to do a teen lovers suicide with his best friend if all goes badly. Meleoron is definitely pointing out (in his view, anyway) that there are feelings behind this that Killua is unable and unwilling to talk about. Is he implying they're romantic feelings? I mean...

This happens so much in Chimera Ant arc around Killua's feelings. Togashi leaves it open-ended, doesn't spell it out blatantly, but it seems like the question is being asked over and over again--what exactly are the nature of Killua's feelings for Gon, anyway? And there keep being these moments where the concept of romantic love is conjured in some form in connection with or around this unspoken question being asked, like multiple instances in the Palm subplot I've talked about a bunch of times now. (Linking to that post in particular because it links to a lot of other Palm subplot related posts.)

Even the way Killua asks if Gon considers him a friend or a comrade, asking What are we? basically is essentially a shoujo trope--and especially how it was presented, very dramatic with a lot of focus and emphasis on Killua's internal turmoil around asking the question.

There are just so many times in this arc where emphasis gets placed on a question of, What are your feelings for Gon anyway, Killua? in an indirect way, including this moment with Meleoron. It's repeated so many times and there are so many instances where there's some subtext around or even direct mention of romantic love hovering around these questions, it's basically daring the audience to answer.

It's true that shinjuu can be non-romantic in some cases, however the word choice is meaningful. Togashi knows what the implications of it are, especially in a literary sense. He could have chosen other ways to phrase this, he could have opted not to use this word in particular. If it was presented completely in isolation from any other romantic subtext, there would be more of an argument to be had for it just being included in a platonic sense, but with how much repeated romantic subtext there is with Gon and Killua's relationship to begin with...I think the word choice is very intentional.

I hope that answers your question!

#hunter x hunter #hxh #killugon #gonkillu #gon #killua #meleoron #meta #my posts #asks #anonymous #long post #chimera ant arc #lovers suicide meta

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supernovafics · 2 years ago

Text

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k words

summary: in which the vecna events hurt you a lot more than you would allow yourself to admit to anyone. you lost your best friend, someone who was quite possibly your only true friend, and you just felt empty inside because of it. you somehow find solace in steve harrington and an unspoken bond forms between you two. you and him barely talk, though; talking is probably the last thing you do with one another. but, maybe, you should.

warnings: post season four, mentions of eddie, mentions of stancy, reader grieving eddie’s death, soft!steve, some fluff, SO MUCH angst, explicit language, smut (minors dni!), overall a lot of sadness but with a happy/hopeful ending

author’s note: this idea randomly came to me and i immediately stopped everything else i was working on to run with this lmao hope y’all enjoy!<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was because you almost died.

That was what you kept telling yourself.

It was the life-and-death situations that you had found yourself in that past month that led you into Steve’s bed almost every night. And it was also the fact that he’d experienced those fucked up moments with you.

You and Steve weren’t friends. Even after what happened a little over a month ago, you rarely ever talked to each other during the normal hours that most people talked to one another. In fact, you found yourself actively avoiding him during the day.

But, when night rolled around and you were feeling way too restless and insanely sad, you would call him and he would always answer because somehow he was always awake too.

When you pulled into his driveway on this specific night, you didn’t hesitate to head to his front door and give it three quick knocks. He usually would leave the door unlocked for you after you told him you were on your way, but you still liked to knock.

For some reason, the thought of letting yourself into his house made things feel a little too personal and intimate; even though you and him were doing perhaps the most intimate thing two people could do with one another.

When Steve opened the door, he gave you a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You responded softly before walking inside.

You took notice of his attire which was typical, basketball shorts and a simple t-shirt, but his hair was much more disheveled than usual. It made you silently wonder if this time you actually had woken him up when you called.

You peeled off your jacket and toed off your shoes, leaving them both by the front door.

You followed him up to his room and quickly found comfort atop his bed as he closed and locked the door behind you both. Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed and you looked up at the ceiling.

“Were you actually asleep when I called this time?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

You propped yourself up by your elbows and looked at him. “You can tell me to fuck off sometimes, you know that right?”

He ran a hand through his hair, which let you know that he was at least a little bit nervous and there was also a lot going through his head right then. You wish you didn’t know that about him, but it was hard not to notice little things like that with all of the nights you’d been spending together.

“I could never tell you to fuck off,” He ultimately responded.

Why?

That was what you wanted to ask him, but you couldn’t let the word fall from your lips. Because you were scared about what emotional shit would be attached to his answer. You were scared that it just might finally break you open.

Ever since everything went down you felt numb from it all and, for the most part, you were okay with that. You liked not feeling anything because it meant that you couldn’t truly grasp the pain and grief you were experiencing.

By no means was it healthy, you knew that, but it still somehow made things a little better.

However, there was still a part of you that longed for something, anything, that resembled the opposite of the emptiness you were feeling.

And that was where Steve would come in.

He’d give you something that would momentarily fill that void while simultaneously making you forget all of the shit going through your head.

And you’d give him the same thing. Make him forget about the girl he was in love with who was perfectly happy with someone else.

The two of you needed each other. You would never say it aloud, but it was the truth, and you couldn’t let a question of “why?” potentially ruin that right then.

So, instead, you stood up and slipped off the sweatpants you were wearing and then pulled off the ratty old band t-shirt that had been Eddie’s. You hadn’t been wearing a bra under the shirt so you were standing in front of Steve in only your black underwear. His eyes slowly traveled up your body as he walked closer to you and a hand found your bare waist.

When this all started weeks ago, it slightly surprised you how you never felt nervous or awkward under Steve’s gaze. Somehow you always felt comfortable, maybe even a little safe.

You leaned into his soft touch and tilted your head up so that you could meet his lips. When your mouth met his, your mind effectively turned off and the next few moments felt like they were being lived by a different version of you. The version that was normal and not so painstakingly affected by grief and sadness.

Steve guided you back onto the bed, his lips not detaching from yours once, so that your back was flush against the comforter.

Soft words fell from his lips that you couldn’t decipher because you were so lost in your own pleasure.

You felt him almost everywhere. Lips against your neck and trailing down your body, hands squeezing your breast and teasing you through your soaking underwear.

“Please,” You found yourself muttering desperately as you bucked your hips upward a bit because you needed him so badly.

Steve knew what you were essentially asking for and he wanted the same exact thing. So when he pulled away for a second to remove his t-shirt and basketball shorts and boxers, you slipped off your own underwear and let him make you simultaneously feel and forget everything.

Three Weeks Earlier

“Hey.”

His presence startled you. So much so that you lost your balance a bit and almost fell into the lake.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, you can’t sneak up on a girl like that.”

“Sorry about that,” He said and pushed a quick hand through his hair. “I don’t think there was any right way to get your attention.”

You tilted your head at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Also, how did you get here? I didn’t see your car parked.”

You turned away from him. “I walked.”

“That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

A small shrug was all you gave him in response as you kicked a small rock into the lake.

You didn’t tell him that all of the walking you did made you so exhausted that the only thing you could think of when you finally stepped foot in your home was sleep and absolutely nothing else.

You’d come to learn over the past few weeks that it was way too easy for your mind to spiral when you were alone in your bed if you didn’t force yourself to stay awake and do things until you were completely sleep deprived.

“How’ve you been?” He asked as he walked over to stand next to you.

You almost laughed at how ridiculous the question was because, in your mind, the answer seemed obvious. You’d been sad, angry, upset at the world, sometimes even upset at Eddie— and you’d always end up feeling like a horrible person when you did become upset at him.

But you hadn’t seen Steve or anybody else involved since everything happened, so as ridiculous as the question was, it did make sense that he was asking it.

“Not the best,” You ultimately answered.

He waited a few moments to see if you would elaborate on what you meant, but you didn’t.

“You’re kinda one of us now, so you can talk to us whenever. You can talk to me.”

You took a quick glance over at him and saw from the look on his face how much he meant his words. “That’s the thing though, I don’t wanna talk.”

“So, you just wanna wallow forever?” His tone wasn’t accusatory like you expected it to be. Instead, he was genuinely curious.

“I just want to…” You let out a long sigh. “Forget. Forget what happened, forget what we went through, forget that he’s gone. Everything.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to that for a few moments, and you fought the urge to look at him because you knew that he was either staring at you like you were crazy or pitying you. You couldn’t decide which look would be worse.

“Let me drive you home,” He said softly. You realized then that he probably felt sorry for you and his eyes were more than likely saying the same.

You kept your gaze trained on the lake in front of you. “I’m okay.”

“Please?”

You only nodded because you knew you couldn’t say no. He’d probably ask a bunch of questions about what was going on with you, and you were a terrible liar so you knew you’d actually have to be honest with him. And how were you going to be honest with him, if you couldn’t be honest with yourself just yet?

You allowed yourself to get comfortable in the passenger seat of Steve’s BMW, leaning back into the seat and staring out at the dark road ahead of you both. If the circumstances had been different you could’ve maybe found yourself falling asleep in his car. But, it was too quiet and things felt awkward, so you couldn’t help but say the first thing that crossed your mind.

“How are you and Nancy?”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few long moments, but then he cleared his throat. “She’s, uh, she’s still with Jonathan.”

“Oh,” You said, and couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice. During everything, it seemed like the two of them were on some sort of course toward getting back together. “Sorry.”

He shrugged halfheartedly. “It’s fine.”

Something about his demeanor told you that it actually wasn’t fine.

Your eyes glanced at the time displayed on the dashboard. It was two in the morning but you weren’t tired enough. And you really didn’t wanna go back home just yet.

“Um, can we go to yours actually?”

You fully expected him to question you and ask why you wanted to go to his place and not your own. But, he didn’t ask anything and instead gave you a small nod. “Okay.”

His house was quiet and although you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d be staying, you slipped off the sneakers you were wearing and left them by the front door.

“You want something to drink?” Steve asked. “I would also offer something to eat, but there’s nothing really here.”

You shook your head. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“This way,” He said and then led you upstairs to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom.

When you flicked on the light and looked in the mirror, it was then that you noticed how bad you looked, and it actually made sense to you that Steve had wanted to take you home. Your face looked exhausted, but you didn’t feel tired at all.

The t-shirt you were wearing, which had been Eddie’s, was insanely wrinkled and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken it off, and the old dark sweatpants you were wearing had some random bleach spots on them.

When you exited the bathroom, after splashing some water on your face to hopefully bring some life back to it, you noticed Steve lingering by his bedroom door.

“You could’ve told me how insane I look right now,” You told him.

“You look… fine,” He said hesitantly and you rolled your eyes as you sat on his bed. “I think you just look tired?”

You let out a small sigh and crossed your legs underneath you. “I’m quite literally the opposite.”

He sat down next to you and things became quiet.

“Why were you at the lake?” You decided to ask as you turned to look at him.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I was just driving around,” He responded and you nodded at that as you looked down at your lap.

You silently wondered if the aftermath of everything was hitting him as hard as it was hitting you. You almost asked him how he had been doing since it all happened, but the question couldn’t form on your lips.

“I did mean what I said back there,” He abruptly said as he turned to you. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you met his gaze. “You can talk to me. I know we didn’t know each other before everything happened, and we still don’t know each other that well. But, still… I’m here. If you ever wanna not forget about everything, we can talk about it.”

You appreciated his words, you truly did. But, the thought of actually talking about everything made you feel physically ill.

Steve placed his hand atop yours and gave it a light reassuring squeeze. The action was so minor and could’ve easily been deemed as meaningless, but it did mean so much to you. For some reason that you couldn’t decipher or understand, he really did care about you.

You shifted a bit closer to him and allowed your body to move faster than your thoughts could tell you that what you were doing was a bad idea. You moved into his lap, knees straddling either side of his waist.

“Is this okay?” You asked, eyes meeting his.

He nodded slowly and you could see the minor confusion on his face but you chose to ignore it because if you didn’t you knew that you would start thinking too hard about what you were doing.

So, instead, you kept your mind off and let your body run on autopilot. Your hands settled at the nape of his neck and you leaned down to kiss him. His hands were firmly planted at his sides, too scared that all of this somehow wasn’t real to touch you back, but he did kiss you with just as much passion as you were giving him.

It finally felt good to actually feel something; something that didn’t cause you sadness.

“Touch me, Steve. Please,” You said in-between heated kisses.

He didn’t have to be told twice and his hands were on you in an instant, sneaking under your t-shirt and rubbing the soft skin of your hip, then waist, then back, then all the way up to your bra-covered breast. You moaned at the feeling of him squeezing you through the thin fabric.

You pulled back for a second to pull off your shirt and toss it somewhere in the room, and Steve took the opportunity to flip the two of you so you were pressed against the bed and he was on top of you. Your hands found a home in his hair as the two of you resumed kissing with even more intensity that time around. When Steve’s lips found your neck, you involuntarily bucked your hips upward and rubbed yourself against his hardness, which elicited a soft groan from him.

Abruptly, he pulled away. “Wait– Shit– Sorry.”

He rolled off of you and you turned on your side to look at him with confused eyes; he was staring up at the ceiling. “Why are you sorry?”

“You’re sad right now,” Steve said, still avoiding your eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He was right about the first part, but that didn’t mean that what the two of you were doing was a bad idea. In fact, you thought it was the opposite.

You were lonely, and you were pretty sure he was too. Why couldn’t the two of you help each other feel not alone?

“It’s okay. Seriously. I want this,” You told him as you shifted closer toward him and ran a hand through his hair.

He was looking at you now, searching your eyes for full confirmation that this really was okay. And he didn’t see any uncertainty in your gaze, but he still was hesitant.

“Please,” The word was soft and quiet, but Steve heard you loud and clear, and something inside of him shifted.

Finally, he was kissing you again and not wasting a second to move you back on your back so that he was on top of you as he peppered kisses down your body.

And finally, he was pulling off his shirt and pants and boxers and grabbing a condom, and you were taking off the remainder of your clothes as well.

And finally, he was slowly pushing himself inside of you and groaning at the feeling of you around him, your wet walls taking him in so well and squeezing around his cock so tightly.

You moaned and winced at the feeling as you adjusted to having him inside of you. You had had sex before but Steve was huge, and it felt like it was your first time all over again.

“You okay?” He asked, hand finding your cheek to softly stroke it.

You gave him a small nod and let your eyes slip shut as you shifted your hips a little. “Mhm. You can move now.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips as a way to say “okay” and then slowly began moving, pulling out just a little bit and then pushing right back into you.

You moaned uncontrollably as your chest swelled and your body was overcome with an insane amount of emotions; and all of them were surprisingly good emotions, which you hadn’t been used to anymore. You had felt so empty for so long that you didn’t expect to ever feel anything again.

But, now here you were with Steve.

You opened your eyes and immediately met his dark gaze. You didn’t shy away from his stare. Instead, you liked looking at him and seeing how equally enamored he was with you in that moment because of what the two of you were doing.

His hair was falling into his eyes with every thrust, so you reached up to run your hands through it, and you loved the loud groan he elicited when you gave his dark locks a soft pull. He began pounding into you with much more vigor.

“Fuck, Steve. Yes.”

“You’re so good, doing so well for me,” He said as his hand snaked down between your bodies to begin rubbing tight circles against your clit.

You cried out his name loudly and arched your back at the feeling of his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel you squeezing around me so tight, fuck,” Steve groaned, movements getting harsher and sloppier with each thrust. “You wanna come?”

You nodded immediately and frantically. “M’so close, yes. Please, please make me come.”

His fingers rubbed your clit harder and faster, which was enough to make you see stars and send you over the edge. His lips messily found yours, swallowing your moans as he continued fucking you through your orgasm and found his own release only moments later.

Your breaths were still coming out in soft pants and you could feel Steve softening inside of you. “Fuck, that was really great.”

“Yeah,” He agreed with a nod and smile as he slipped out of you and moved to his side, still looking at you. You turned your head to meet his eyes.

Things became comfortably quiet as the two of you simply stared at each other and you could finally feel your eyelids actually getting heavy. But, you didn’t want to fall asleep there.

“Can you take me home?” You asked, breaking eye contact and sitting up in the bed.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Minutes later, you were back in the clothes you’d shown up in and then you were back in Steve’s passenger seat.

And right when your head hit your own pillow, you were asleep and didn’t wake up for a solid eight hours. Which was much different from the usual six, sometimes even five, hours you had become used to getting.

You didn’t think that you’d have sex with Steve again.

Yes, it was absolutely mind-blowing and you’d love for it to happen again because of how good it made you feel; probably the most “good” you’d felt in a while. But, in your head, it was a fluke. You didn’t regret it, but you just didn’t think the circumstances would align for it to happen again.

However, when the next night rolled around, you found yourself creating your own circumstances and calling him, and he didn’t hesitate to tell you to come over.

Now

“You miss him?”

You almost made some joking comment about how Steve was still inside of you and he somehow decided that right then was the time to shift the conversation to your best friend, but you refrained from doing so.

Steve was always so much softer than you were after sex, and he had always wanted to make sure you knew that he was there for you if you wanted more than just sex.

You had wanted to show him that you would do the same for him too; let him talk about Nancy and everything he was feeling from that situation. But, it was too hard.

Because more than anything, you wanted this to be as mindless as possible.

After a few weeks, he decided to stop trying to start a conversation with you after because of how little you reciprocated. However, apparently, this time was different though.

And it was also different for you too because you actually found yourself wanting to talk back.

“All the time,” You finally answered as you shifted off of him and let your head find his pillow as you grabbed the thin sheet to pull it over you a bit. “Pretty much all hours of the day.”

You didn’t say that the only time you didn’t miss Eddie, that the only time things actually felt the tiniest bit bearable, was when you were here with Steve. Because you hadn’t realized that until right then, and the thought slightly startled you.

You turned on your side and faced him. “You miss her?”

He turned too and his hand found your hip underneath the sheet and mindlessly started tracing small circles on the bare skin. “Who?”

You gave him a look because you knew that he knew exactly who you were referring to.

His eyes shut for a second and you could tell that he was thinking about what to say. “Sometimes, I guess.”

You glanced down at the scar he had on his abdomen from where he was attacked by the demo-bats and slowly let your fingers trace against it. “You could always just tell her, y’know? Tell her that you love her.”

“Did you ever tell him?” His voice was quiet.

Your eyes flickered back up to his. “Tell him what?”

“That you love him.”

His words slightly confused you but you nodded your head. “Of course, probably every day. But, that’s different.”

“How?” Steve asked, genuinely curious, and you thought it was slightly funny because in your head the answer to his one-worded question was obvious.

“I didn’t love him how you love her.”

“What?” The confusion was evident in his tone.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

He shifted and sat up in the bed, the sheet sinking down and barely covering his hips. You almost followed suit and sat up too, but you were too tired to do so, so you just looked up at him and started becoming confused because of how confused he seemed.

“You and Eddie… You two– You guys were together, right?” He asked, eyes finding yours.

“Ew, no,” You said and laughed a bit. “Eddie is like–” You sighed at your mistake. “Was like… a brother to me.”

“But…” Steve trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say because there was a lot circling his mind right then.

“What made you think that we were dating?”

“You guys were so close. It just– It made a lot of sense,” He answered, and you understood what he meant. You and Eddie were insanely close, but not in that way. Never in that way. Simply the thought of him being anything more than your closest friend felt slightly incestual to you. “And when I saw you that night, after everything, you were crying at lover’s lake.”

“I was not crying,” You said with a small scoff. Although you did remember that you had been close to it that night. “And I hadn’t necessarily gone there on purpose, I was just walking around to make myself tired so that I could sleep, and I ended up there.”

“Wow,” He said, letting out a small breath as he leaned back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

You almost laughed at how surprised he was at your words. “I can’t believe how big of a revelation this is for you.”

He turned toward you again. “It’s just– Wow.”

“Okay, now that that is cleared up, I guess, back to you and your situation. You should just tell–”

Before you could finish your statement, Steve abruptly pressed his lips against yours.

The two of you never kissed outside of sex, only during it and as a prelude to it. Never after, though.

So, that surprised you. Even though you kissed him back almost immediately because of how many times you’d kissed him before, you were still in shock because this was probably the most chaste and sweetest kiss he had ever given you. But, it still felt so familiar.

When he pulled away, you should’ve asked something along the lines of “what was that for?” or “why did you do that?”. But, instead, your mind trailed back to something Steve had said earlier.

“I could never tell you to fuck off.”

And that statement made you ask a question that might have sounded so random, but it felt like it was connected to what he had just done.

“Earlier, why did you say that you could never tell me to fuck off?”

Steve’s hand softly stroked your cheek and he was completely unfazed by your question. “Because I like you too much.”

“But, Nancy–”

He shook his head before you could finish. “She’s with Jonathan and she’s happy. They’re meant to be. I’ve accepted that.”

“But…” It was your turn to trail off because you didn’t know what to say. All you could do was simply stare at him and take notice of how tenderly he was looking at you in that moment.

“This whole time I felt like a horrible person because I was falling for you while I thought you were grieving your boyfriend. I can’t believe how wrong I was,” He said with a small sigh.

Your mind was effectively blank and there was nothing you could even think of saying to Steve right then. There was way too much to process in such a short amount of time.

You felt like you were in the same “misunderstanding boat” as him. Because in your mind he had still been in love with Nancy. Therefore, why would you allow yourself to like him? You would’ve just ended up getting hurt and losing him, and he was the only thing in your life that made you feel somewhat better about Eddie.

You were then reminded of your earlier realization, and how good it felt being with Steve on sleepless nights like these.

“I thought you loved Nancy,” You finally said.

“And I thought you and Eddie had been together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “We should talk more. Our communication is pretty shitty.”

His arm circled your waist as he laughed too and pulled you close to him. You let your head settle on his chest and your eyes slip shut.

It was quiet for a few moments before you decided to finally let yourself be completely honest with him. “I think I like you too much too. Like, too much. It’s so much harder to go to sleep when I’m not here with you. And you make things feel a lot better. Everything that happened… It doesn’t hurt as much when I’m with you. Somehow it all actually feels okay.”

Your voice was soft and it could’ve been easy for Steve not to hear you, but he did. Instead of immediately responding, he simply held you tighter and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You could’ve sworn if your eyes weren’t closed you’d be crying from the action.

“Don’t leave tonight, okay?”

His request didn’t fully surprise you, but at the same time, it did. Mainly because it was something that neither of you ever really talked about or acknowledged.

Sometimes, actually a lot of the times, you would end up falling asleep in Steve’s bed with his arms around you, but you’d always be gone before the morning came because you knew that everything would feel too “real” if your moments with Steve lived beyond the nighttime. And he never called you out on abruptly leaving or ever tried to convince you to stay.

Of course, now, you didn’t care about what it would mean if you stayed with him as the night slowly faded away. And in fact, you found yourself aching for mornings with him and days spent together doing nothing or driving aimlessly around town in addition to the amazing nights you’d have together.

You smiled softly into the darkness as you nuzzled yourself impossibly closer to him and finally responded. “Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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