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bg-brainrot · 10 months ago

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WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 1: Knifes and Nightmares

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 1.7k words, 1/?? chapters

Summary: At 12 years old, you first dream of the Pale Elf. The encounter scares you and sets you on your path forward.

Ao3 | [Ch2] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

An elf’s reverie is a time of introspection, of connecting to your former selves and their lives, and ultimately learning from them for your new life. When an elf enters this deep trance, the entire world falls away, and memories both good and bad come to them as if in a dream. It’s not always a pleasant experience, but it is often considered a necessary experience for elves to reach full maturity. After 100 years of reliving your past, you are finally acknowledged as a true adult, allowed to forge your way into the world in your new life.

You knew from a young age that you had lived some interesting lives. You received snippets of them each night, and awoke from your trance trying to decipher what each bit could mean, who the people were, which lives might have belonged to you. You found it a fascinating puzzle to solve– you also had the sneaking suspicion you didn’t always like puzzles.

The oddity of a new life is that you aren’t the same person. Of course not. You’re currently being raised by two well-to-do, doting parents living in Neverwinter. You don’t need a lot of memories to know that this is by far one of the most pleasant starts to life you’ve had. In this life, where you weren’t searching for your next meal or living on the streets, you’ve found the capacity to love puzzles.

When your memories suddenly decide to hand you a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, it throws your new life for a loop.

You’re 12 years old, quite used to your nightly reveries now. Your parents have lovingly laid you to rest, and you eagerly enter your trance, ready for another clue about your past selves.

Eyes closed, world shut out, you access tonight’s memory easily.

The first thing you notice is the scent of the ocean. Its smell is a mixture of brine and fish, not unfamiliar to you. Along with the smell, you feel the cool breeze tickling your skin, blowing your hair just within your field of vision.

You feel taller than your current self, older, and bigger. You’re not sure how old you are, but you know that you’re an adult. Despite this, you’re unable to decipher much else.

Reliving a memory is nothing like real life. You can’t control your body, no matter how much you wish you could, you can find yourself coming in and out of these memories, and you can’t force yourself out of a memory once it’s started– it’s all out of your control.

So, as much as you’d like to learn more about your past-self, they’re currently preoccupied. Walking up this winding path, a rocky outcropping with some barren trees and shrubs, they seem to have a clear destination in mind: a figure at the top of the hill.

They approach the person carelessly, as if nothing in the world could be a danger to them– you wonder if they’re more powerful than some of your other lives. You can tell someone is in tow, but clearly you trust them because you don’t turn around to look.

You reach the figure, a silver-haired elf. He’s strikingly pale, wearing impeccably designed clothing that seems out of place for where you’re finding him. His stance is cautious, ready for anything. Most surprising to you are his eyes, a rich red, and they dart between the bushes and you.

“Hurry! I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” The voice is breathy, masculine, with an accent a bit different from your own. You can’t quite place it, as you’ve never left Neverwinter, but you think you’ve heard it in other lives’ memories. “There, in the grass. You can kill it can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

You feel your own emotions spark at his question, at once alien and familiar, and a surge of confidence radiates through you. “Easily, stand back.” The voice for this life is new to you, but it’s clearly very self-assured. You wonder what the ‘brain thing�� could be to warrant such certainty.

The memory cuts out–not a new occurrence, and your parents explained that lapses in memory could happen around moments of severe emotion as a natural protection. However, when it cuts back in, you’re overwhelmed by the amount of shock and fear coursing through you. You’re on your back, staring up at the same clear blue sky. A flash of silver glints just under your chin, and, as your former-self looks down, you see a knife pressed to your throat.

You feel your limbs struggle, but the way his legs are wrapped around you, the way he’s leveraging his body weight, you find that you’re unable to get up. Panic rises in your throat as you wonder if this might be your first death. You didn’t realize you could experience death at such a young age– usually this was reserved for your later years of reverie. I’m not ready for this, you think, as you feel both of your body’s hearts pounding in their chests.

“Shhhh,” the man, who is now pinning you to the ground, all but tuts. “Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” His head cranes up, to someone you can’t see. His face and tone shift to something angry as he growls, “And you– Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

“I need them alive. Stow that blade or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.” The voice is feminine, their accent matches this man’s.

“Promises, promises,” he says with a nonchalance that irks at you. “But I have other business, I’m afraid.”

His attention turns back to you. “Now, I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?�� the elf continues, his tone is taunting you, knowing he has the upperhand. His next word is a command, “Nod.”

Present-day you, the 12-year-old that just wants to live, wills yourself to nod, to acquiesce to this insane man’s demands and see another dawn. However your past-self has other inclinations.

Without so much as a word, they headbutt the man. Hard.

You feel the force of it nearly jolt you out of your trance, but you hold on, willing yourself to see if you make it out of this alive.

The man grunts as he rolls off of you. “Argh. You wretched little–”

Then your mind is wracked with pain, with flashes of memory that you can’t place. A previous life? You’re not sure. But after the sting of your heads colliding, this strain is too much for your mind to bear. Your vision teeters, hanging on by a single thread, all that’s left are that man’s intense red eyes.

You emerge from your trance with a shaky breath. You reach for your throat, as if to make sure that it’s still in one piece, only to find it coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

What was that, you think. One thing is for sure: it was quite possibly one of the most vivid memories you think you’ve had yet. The smells, the sensations, the emotions – all of them still linger.

You don’t like it.

Tears begin spilling down your face, an unwelcome reaction to the fear that seems to rest just under your skin, uncomfortable and chilling. Your hands feel like someone else’s, and looking at them shake involuntarily is just about enough to bring you to a breaking point. “Who– who was that?” you get out, to no one in particular.

Verbalizing it helps to soothe your turbulent emotions, look at this logically. Okay, I must have felt quite strongly in that lifetime. You nod to yourself, wiping away tears with a few trembling fingers. More importantly, what did I learn?

You think back to the memories, willing your mind to push past the fear. You met this man. You don’t know who he is, or what he wanted, but he seemed to be armed and dangerous. You had a companion. You don’t know who they were either, but they seemed to be ready to kill for you.

The exercise calms you considerably, and only leaves you with more mysteries than solutions to your puzzle. What ship was he referring to? What was the ‘brain thing’? Whose memories had flashed through your head?

You shake your head, no, no, none of those likely matter. If there’s one thing your memories have taught you is that specific events are in the past– there’s no use trying to piece it together like a history book. Likely nothing you did was worthy of a history book anyway. What you need to know would be infinitely more useful: who were you?

You’d been confident, unshaken despite the fear pulsing in your body. You’d faced that terrifying man as if he were just another inconvenience, one that you were thoroughly fed up with.

You don’t know much of your former selves but you know that you want to be that. You don’t want to cry when faced with certain death. You want to headbutt it.

Years pass, and you work hard at training in the arcane arts, finding comfort in books and wizardry. You wonder if that will be enough to keep you safe in this life, safe from people like that silver-haired madman. Every time your will falters, you remember that memory and study harder. He becomes a figure in your mind of the dangers of the world, of something to fuel your fury when it begins to burn low.

He’s nothing more to you than that silver-haired man for more than six years, as that particular lifetime of memories seems to lay dormant. Your parents have explained this to you before: you can’t control which life’s memories come to the forefront. To many, it seems arbitrary. To you, it feels like your mind is defending you. As if it realized you aren’t ready for that particular part of your past. Or perhaps it just knows that your hatred for this fair-haired elf may take over your current life.

The next time you’re visited by a memory of this pale elf, you find that the emotions he elicits are far from hatred.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

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punkshort · 3 months ago

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Can You Remember Who You Were?

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: When you struggle to stop obsessing about the handsome stranger you met at a coffee shop who ghosted you after one date, fate eventually forces you back together.

Warnings: language, possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f!receiving), omegaverse dynamics, alcohol consumption, minor physical altercation

WC: 9.1K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: For @burntheedges's Roll a Trope challenge I got reincarnation. I also mixed in some a/b/o stuff because I've always wanted to give it a try. Go easy on me, I'm nervous about this one - hope you enjoy. And thank you to @txtattoostark for holding my hand.

When you first met, it was happenstance. An awkward run-in at your favorite coffee shop where he thought your coffee was his until he read your name written on the cup aloud and had the grace to look bashful when he handed it over. A moment later, his own order was ready and you caught the name Dave scrawled on the side. He smiled and raised his cup to you before taking a sip and wishing you a good day before disappearing out onto the busy street.

It was a simple interaction. Nothing terribly special. But you couldn't stop thinking about him the rest of the day.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

Dave, with the soft, gentle brown eyes. Dave, with the chiseled, clean shaven jaw and strong, angular nose. Dave, with the broad shoulders that strained underneath his blue button-down shirt. Dave, with the bare ring finger that still had a visible, yet faded, tan line.

Something about him stuck with you. You felt drawn to him. Connected, somehow, yet you didn't even know him.

After the weekend passed, you managed to clear him from your mind, if only because you stayed as busy as possible. You cleaned your apartment top to bottom. You went to a concert for a band you didn't even like with your friends. You even called your parents and suffered through another phone call where you heard about your brother and sister's lives, how their respective children were, how your brother got a promotion and your sister was thinking of having a third baby. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, your parents already knowing the answer and predicting your negative reaction by now, so it remained unsaid. But it still stung to be compared to your siblings in that way. Your parents had a skewed notion that maybe it would encourage you to try a little harder if they kept pointing out your brother's success and your sister's natural instinct for motherhood, but it only made you draw into yourself tighter.

Once it was Monday again, you dragged yourself to work. You were so tired from your overly busy weekend that you didn't even think about Dave when you entered the coffee shop. You stood in line, zoning out and in desperate need of caffeine when the door swung open and shut behind you and the sound of dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floors neared.

"Promise not to steal your coffee again."

You swiveled around, eyes wide and heart rattling in your chest when you fixed your gaze on none other than Dave. And much to your dismay, he looked even better than you remembered.

"Oh," you squeaked, subconsciously fixing your hair and glancing around to buy yourself a moment to recover. "Hi again. Two days in a row, what are the odds?" you chuckled dryly, hoping you didn't sound as stupid as you felt. Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled down at you.

"Could've been four but I guess you don't come here on the weekends."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you struggled to respond. Dave took that to mean he caused you offense and quickly rectified it, not wanting to sound like a stalker.

"I'm just kidding."

You laughed and rubbed the scar on the back of your neck, your head spinning. Was he just kidding? Did he come here over the weekend? And if he did, was he hoping to run into you?

"I work around the corner," you explained, telling him the company you worked for. Your mother would have scolded you for telling a stranger where you worked, especially one who might have just admitted to coming to the coffee shop in the hopes of running into you, but you knew it was safe. You didn't know how you knew, you just knew.

Dave nodded and was about to speak when the barista ushered you forward so you could place your order. Before you had a chance to pull out your wallet, Dave leaned over you to tell the barista you were together and added his order before handing over his card.

You couldn't stop the shudder that went down your spine when you heard him speak so close to you, the vibrations of his voice sending a current of electricity through you. At this distance, you could practically smell him, too, and it wasn't just his cologne. It was something else that you couldn't identify but had you weak in the knees.

To be polite, you turned to deny his offer, but he spoke first. And when he did, telling you not to argue and he was happy to do it, his voice deepened and the timber alone caused your body to weaken and your eyes cast down obediently.

"Do you work around here, too?" you asked once you got your coffees and you thanked him for the third time.

"No, I don't."

He walked towards the door and held it open for you, a fourth thank you slipping from your lips. You got the feeling he liked hearing you so thankful and sweet. He smiled every time you said it.

"What brings you out this way, then? Do you live nearby? I don't think I've seen you here before."

Dave walked you to the corner where a shiny, black BMW sat parked.

"Let's just say there's something about the atmosphere I like at this place."

Your face flushed and you took a sip from your coffee, burning your tongue in the process, while you tried to think of something to say. Then you heard the bells from a nearby church and you were stricken with panic.

"Oh, shit! It's already eight?" you asked, yanking your phone out to check the time. You were already late and you still had a ten minute walk ahead of you.

"Come on, get in," Dave said, holding open the passenger side door. "I'll drop you off. You said it's just down the street?"

You contemplated his offer for about three seconds before nodding and jumping into his car. In only took him about two minutes to drop you off in front of your building but you couldn't stop thanking him the entire way, something that continued to delight him.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. You showed up at your usual time and mysteriously, Dave would appear within a few minutes. He would insist on buying your coffee and on nice days, he would walk you to work. If it was rainy or windy, he would drive you.

By Friday he finally asked for your number and by Saturday you were getting ready for your first date.

Shannon was your age but she always seemed to be so much wiser and grounded. She had a very different view on life, but she was sweet and fun and you got along the moment you met. While you were used to going out to bars on a Friday night, Shannon preferred to stay in and read about horoscopes, take stock of her essential oils, do some light yoga, or scour eBay for rare crystals. You thought she was a hippie, she preferred spiritually inclined.

Regardless of your differences, she still was a wonderful person and was always there for you. Whether you were going through a bad breakup or upset about something your mom said, she would always be there to listen, rub your back, and kindly suggest a way to unblock your chakra.

You had a handful of other friends who would gladly come over and drink wine while you tried on outfits and help with your makeup, but that wasn't what you needed. You had something else entirely on your mind and you couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help besides Shannon.

"I've been having dreams."

Shannon raised an eyebrow so far up, it got lost under her curly blonde bangs and thick rimmed glasses.

"What sort of dreams?"

You sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed, your dress partially zipped. "About Dave. And me. And it's just... strange."

Shannon shifted a bit on your mattress, her clunky jade bracelets knocking together in the process. "Go on."

"It feels like a reoccurring dream, but it's not exactly the same. The feeling is the same, though."

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "And what are you doing in these dreams?"

Your face warmed up and you stared at the floor when you said, "Well, we're having sex. But it's not just sex. It's different. Like," you waved your hands in the air as you struggled to come up with an explanation. "I know this will sound crazy, but it feels like in my dreams, we have more of a connection. Like, a purpose or something? And in my dreams it feels so much more intense compared to other guys I've slept with."

"How so?"

You had to give her credit. Shannon was too kind to ever tease you.

"Intense like... if we don't fuck, I'll go certifiably insane."

"Oh," she said, nodding her head, completely unphased. "Interesting. It kind of sounds like something I've read about once before. Have you ever heard of -"

Your doorbell buzzed and you leapt off the bed. "Oh, my god! Zip me up! He's here!"

When you flung your front door open, Dave spun around with a smile, one which widened when his eyes drifted appreciatively up and down your frame.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, feeling that magnetic pull low in your belly again just at the mere sight of him.

"You look beautiful," he told you, and just as he was about to lean in and kiss your cheek, he spotted Shannon emerge from your bedroom behind you with a little wave.

"Oh, this is my friend, she was helping me get ready," you said, turning to introduce them while you grabbed a leather jacket and your purse.

"Have a great time, I'll lock up when I leave."

You both thanked her before heading outside towards Dave's car. His arm naturally found its place protectively around your waist and you practically glowed from his touch.

Dave picked a restaurant that you'd never heard of and when you walked inside, you quickly figured out why. It was easily the fanciest place you had ever eaten and if it wasn't for his reassuring touch or warm smile, you would have felt out of place. But once you sat down, the rest of the room melted away and it was just the two of you in your own little world. The entire time you both were leaning across the table, bodies pulling closer and closer on their own accord as you absorbed every little detail about each other. You learned Dave used to be in the military and now works as an operative in the CIA, something that should have intimidated you but it just made him more attractive. He was a protector, he knew how to handle himself and he was smart, qualities which turned you on and had you yearning for more.

When he admitted to being recently divorced, the hairs on your arm stood up and jealousy bloomed hot in your chest. The sudden idea of him with another partner unlocked something inside you that screamed mine, mine, mine.

By all accounts, your first date was perfect. There was never any lack of topics for conversation, you always felt perfectly at ease and safe, and it went by way too fast even though you were the last table to leave the restaurant.

But when he dropped you off and walked you to your door, something changed from that point forward. He kissed you, gently and sweetly at first, but when your lips brushed together for the very first time it set something on fire inside you that you couldn't ignore. You had no idea how it happened, but the next thing you knew he was pinning you up against your door, your wrists captured in each of his massive hands and held next to your head while his tongue licked aggressively into your mouth.

Then you released a little whimper, a little cry against his mouth and it nearly brought him to his knees. The needy sound reverberated through his entire being and had him forgetting who he was, where he was, what planet he was on because that little sound had his body and mind responding in a way he couldn't explain.

And it frightened him.

He pulled away and put some distance between you, palm dragging over his wet mouth, eyes hungrily devouring your wrecked state. Still leaning against the door, you panted heavily and stared at him through heavy lidded eyes.

He scratched at something invisible behind his ear and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I should go."

You frowned, still trying to catch your breath. "W-what? Was it something -"

Dave quickly shook his head and stepped further away.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised, then turned on his heel, practically running back to his car while you stood there, completely dumbfounded.

As it turned out, you did not hear from him the following day. Nor did you see him at your coffee spot the entire fucking week. By Tuesday, after sending a few pathetic texts that went unanswered, you forced yourself to accept reality.

Dave ghosted you and you would never see him again.

It was just one date. You only knew him for a week but it felt like so much more and you couldn't help but be torn up about it.

On Tuesday night, you called Shannon to tell her. You did your best not to cry but she could hear it in your voice.

"It felt like such a strong connection, you know?" you said sadly, plucking at a loose thread on your sweater.

"Well, what do you think happened?"

You shrugged and tossed yourself backwards onto your bed. "I don't know. The date went great, he dropped me off at the front door, we were kissing and things were getting heated and then all of the sudden, just -" you snapped your fingers. "He had to leave. Said he would talk to me the next day and I never heard from him again."

You heard her hum on the other end and clink a spoon in her mug. "Suppose my silly theory was wrong, then."

"What theory?"

"The dreams you were having and the feelings you were describing sounded like something I've read in one of my books, I wondered if it were real."

One of her books. You rolled your eyes, knowing she had a very strange collection of reference material spanning from meditation and Hinduism to books about Karma and the Kama Sutra.

Even so, you humored her and let her continue.

"Do you believe in past lives?" she asked. You hid your scoff behind your hand and cleared your throat.

"Uh, can't say that I do."

"That's okay, I know it's a bit out there, but it sounds very much like you might have a connection with this man that supersedes this earthly plane. And what I mean is, you may be destined to be together."

"Like, soulmates?" you asked dubiously.

"Mmm, not exactly. What I'm thinking is a little more physical. I have a book that talks about reincarnation and the ability to imprint on another person to the degree where the link follows you throughout all your lives. If it's at all possible, you will always find each other. Although it's usually pretty rare..."

"What do you mean, if it's possible?"

Shannon flipped through some pages of a book, humming under her breath before she said, "Well, if one of you comes back as a bear and the other a human, odds are it won't be a happy reunion."

You couldn't help it, you had to laugh. Shannon wasn't offended. She knew you didn't mean any disrespect and her beliefs were a little more difficult for others to understand.

"Okay, thank you. I needed a reality check," you said with a smile. "I hear what you're saying: we just met and there's zero reason for me to be acting this way."

"No, that's not at all what I mean," Shannon replied. "I haven't actually known anyone personally who went through something like this, but I've read about this phenomenon online."

"Alright, this is getting a little too weird, even for me," you said, sitting up in bed.

"Just Google it!" Shannon told you before you finished your call. "Read what others have said and see if you can relate."

You promised her you would give it a try the next day but you never got around to it. Instead, you went back to moping and staring at your ignored texts to Dave for the rest of the week.

By the time Friday came, you were ready to blow off some steam, refusing to spend another night wasting away over some man who just happened to be an insanely good kisser and whose scent you couldn't erase from your memory.

You agreed to go out with a small group of girls after work. The alcohol buzzing in your veins and the loud music in the bar helped you forget about Dave, but when other men approached you to dance, you just couldn't do it. You politely turned them down and stayed with your co-workers, Dave's rejection still leaving its mark on you. You listened to them complain about a team lead they couldn't stand who got a promotion she didn't deserve and then, as they began to drink a little more, discussed the finer qualities of the cute guy in the mail room.

In retrospect, leaving by yourself when you became too tired wasn't the best choice. You had a longer walk back to your bus stop than usual and it was eerily quiet out, but you wrapped your arms around yourself and kept your head down. And it almost worked, too, until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Need a ride, pretty girl?"

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you kept pushing forward after tossing a no, thanks over your shoulder.

"Don't need to be rude," the voice replied, now much closer. You glanced around nervously and didn't see another soul on the street. Only parked cars.

You moved faster but it wasn't good enough. A hand clasped onto your shoulder, grip firm and frightening, and fear shot through you. You broke out into a cold sweat when he pushed you against a building, caging you in and leering down at you, his sour breath poisoned by alcohol. You recognized him as someone from the bar but before you had a chance to process anything else, two massive hands dug into his shoulders and yanked him away in the blink of an eye.

You shirked away when you heard a fist meeting soft tissue, then the clattering of teeth and a pained groan. Your savior's voice growled threateningly, warning the man to get the fuck out of here before I put you in the goddamn hospital, then you heard the squeaking of shoes against concrete and hurried, retreating footsteps down the street.

You were scared. He could sense it. He could fucking smell it. It made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

Dave's voice was so deep and gravelly, you didn't even recognize him. Not until he crouched in front of you on the street, his dark eyes filled with worry as they scanned your face for any injury did you realize it was even him. Tears welled up in your eyes and he cupped your face. He looked like he was in extreme pain as he watched your tears begin to fall. He then stood, scooping you up so he could carry you to a nearby parked car.

"I'm going to take you home," he said when he placed you gently in the front seat. You had about fifteen seconds to gather your thoughts while he hurried around to the other side of his car.

"Why are you here, Dave?" you asked when he turned his key in the ignition. He paused momentarily before putting his seatbelt on and merging onto the empty street.

"Right place, right time," he muttered. He was gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. You watched him closely from the passenger seat, not believing him for one second but for some inexplicable reason, it didn't frighten you. In fact, you liked it. The idea of Dave being nearby, possibly watching you, made you feel safe and protected, although you hardly knew him.

You took a deep breath, about to muster up the courage to ask him why he had ignored you all week when you were suddenly overwhelmed with his scent. You couldn't describe it but it was a smell uniquely tied to him. You made a little noise in the back of your throat and squirmed in your seat, desperately trying to stay focused and present, but your body had other plans.

Dave's eyes shifted to you, his nostrils flaring at the way your legs rubbed together and your breath picked up and then he smelled it: the first scent of your arousal in the air. That was all it took for him to forget who he was and succumb to his baser instincts.

His cock throbbed painfully hard in his jeans and his molars were practically ground to dust by the time he arrived at your apartment. You fumbled with the seatbelt, desperate to disappear inside and pretend this embarrassing interaction never happened, but you weren't fast enough. Dave had gotten out of the car so quickly that he was already yanking your door open and violently pulling the seatbelt away from your waist. You blinked up at him as if you were trying to clear your vision and jumped out of the car.

Something felt wrong.

You had an ache between your legs that was growing impossible to ignore and your brain was a hazy, swirly mess being so close to his scent. Did someone spike your drink at the bar?

"Thanks," you whispered, chest rising and falling faster as you tried to drag in more air. Your skin was far too sensitive. All you could think about was getting inside before you tore your clothes off in the middle of the parking lot. "I'll, um, see you around, I guess."

He nodded, his neck and cheeks tinted pink as he stared down at you hungrily. "Wait," he croaked when you made a move to leave, eyes burning red hot into you. "Can we - can I explain - fuck," he winced, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to block your scent from his nostrils so he could take a second to fucking think. He felt like he was going insane and he had no idea why.

"You wanna come inside and explain why you haven't talked to me in a week?" you asked bitterly, your arousal temporarily forgotten. "Why you've been ignoring me? Why you made me feel terrible? I was out tonight trying to forget you, Dave. I was hoping it would be the first night all week I didn't cry, but it's too late for that."

He swallowed thickly, eyes all wide and filled with despair as he gazed down at you. "I made you cry?" he asked softly. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he failed, that he did the one fucking thing he shouldn't have done.

You huffed and crossed your arms before looking away. "You hurt my feelings, Dave," you mumbled.

His heart lurched in his chest and he took a step forward to gently cup your face. Despite your anger, you gazed up at him with glassy eyes and almost immediately melted into his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. Will you let me explain?"

Reluctantly, you nodded and allowed him to trail after you to your front door.

You flicked the lights on in your kitchen and living room before turning around. Dave stood there looking too big in your average sized apartment, gaze drifting over your walls, your pictures, your plants, your life.

With a little distance, he could feel the clouds clearing and his senses returning, so he took a steadying breath before speaking.

"About last week," he began. You were in the middle of closing your curtains when you turned around to listen. "I didn't want to scare you, but something happened to me that night." You frowned, pulling the curtains closed the rest of the way and took a few steps towards him. Almost instantly he could smell you again, the wetness between your legs practically calling to him, and he quickly held up both hands so you would stop.

"You gotta stay over there," he warned. Hurt flickered over your face but you obeyed and stepped back until you were by the window again. After a moment, the air cleared enough so he could focus and he slowly dropped his hands back to his sides. He was so hard, it almost made him sick.

"I'm sorry," he said once again. "That's part of what I'm talking about. When you're close to me," he pursed his lips and dropped his chin to his chest while you patiently waited for him to continue. "When you're close to me, I can't fucking think straight. And I know it sounds dramatic," he chuckled, looking back up at you across the room. "I know it sounds like I'm making it up but I promise you, I'm not."

"I think I know what you mean," you said softly after a quiet moment. His eyebrows raised a bit, curious for you to elaborate. "It's like... your scent."

"Yes!" Dave exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I don't understand it but you're giving off a scent and it's doing something to me. Something that frightens me."

You swallowed nervously and took a small step forward.

"Would you... hurt me?"

Dave's eyes went wide and he vigorously shook his head.

"No," he whispered, "never."

You took another step forward and his eyes flickered down to your feet.

"Then what would you do to me?"

His eyes slid shut and he crossed his arms over his chest. What wouldn't he do to you? He would bury his face between your legs until you screamed his name. He would stuff you full of his cock over and over, as many times as you could take it. He wanted to leave love bites all over your body so anyone looking at you would know you're his.

But that would be absurd. You just met and only had one date.

Without even needing to open his eyes, he knew you were closer. The thick smell of your slick filled the air, swirling around him, driving him to the brink of insanity until he was convinced the only cure would be to fuck you senseless.

"I feel it, too, Dave," you whispered, your hands coming up to pull lightly on his arms, unknotting them from their protective place over his chest. You nipped hesitantly at his neck, your lips puckering over his tanned skin, and he felt his resolve crumble.

"Fuck, what is this?" he breathed, his body pulling him forward. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His mouth pressed into your hair, deeply breathing in your scent, then he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, the burst of flavor - you - making his head swim the closer he got to the back of your neck. Before he reached the scar you kept hidden by your hair, he pulled back, gasping for air.

"Come with me," you said with heavy lidded eyes and wet, parted lips. He nodded and followed you, logic and reason fading with each step. He had never felt like this before. It felt like he was being driven by pure instinct, like some kind of animal.

Dave swallowed when you pulled your shirt over your head as you walked, your bare back teasing him with what he could not yet see. Then you worked on your pants, unbuttoning and shimmying out of them as you approached your bed. His cock strained against the metal zipper of his jeans, begging to be touched, begging to be buried deep inside your soaked cunt. And it was soaked. He could see your dampness darkening the fabric of your underwear when you bent forward.

Finally, you turned to face him wearing nothing but your panties and a nervous smile. A low groan escaped from the back of his throat while his gaze drifted slowly down your body, taking in every soft curve and slope while he began to unbutton his shirt.

"You're perfect," he said lowly, shrugging off his shirt before his hands found his belt. "I want you so fucking bad, sweetheart, it hurts. I want to make you mine, make you scream my name til it's the only word you ever remember. I want to fill you up so you're feeling me for days. Want to give you everything you could ever need. Then I want to do it all over again."

Your knees felt weak as you felt another wave of arousal spread through your stomach and between your legs. Shakily, you crawled onto the bed as Dave approached like a predator from the doorway, shedding his clothes and pinning you with an intense stare that, if it were anyone else, would make you nervous.

"You want all that?" he asked you. You were nodding but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the bulge straining in his boxers now that he stepped out of his pants. "Say it," he commanded, and something about his tone made your eyes snap up to his and your spine immediately straighten.

"Yes. I want it. I want you," you replied, then reached your arms out for him to join you. A pleased look passed across his face at your invitation as he kneeled on the bed with you, towering over you with his broad frame, making you feel so small.

He leaned forward with his hands brushing lightly over your shoulders and his lips parted as he admired you openly. Then he murmured, "Lay down and spread your legs," and you felt your stomach flip as you did what you were told.

Dave palmed himself through his boxers when his eyes locked onto the wet spot spreading in your underwear. His long fingers hooked around the fabric and pulled them down, slowly exposing yourself to him. You watched, squirming impatiently, as his eyes turned from brown to almost black when he took a deep breath and spread your legs wide into the bedding.

"I need you," you whimpered. Your skin felt like it was on fire and you were so aroused it almost fucking hurt but you were certain Dave would be able to fix it. You didn't know why or how, but you just knew.

"I know, baby," he said, shifting down so he laid between your legs, his angular nose nudging against your folds and his hot breath fanning over your leaking cunt. You shivered and whined but his big hands held you in place.

"I'm gonna take good care of you, don't worry," was the last thing he said before he placed a sweet kiss on your mound. Then he kissed you again except that time, his tongue flicked out, catching your clit, and the noise that came from your mouth was borderline embarrassing.

"God, you're so wet," he whispered in awe inbetween plunging his tongue in and out of your opening, reveling in the taste of your pussy. The way your scent had engulfed him made him feel insane and the only thing he wanted to do was pull more sweet noises from your lips.

There was no explaining that night. At least, not rationally. The two of you fell into something neither of you experienced before but somehow was all too familiar. You found yourself being far more submissive than you ever were with anybody else, like your body had taken over and knew just what to do. Anything Dave asked of you, you did it, trusting him implicitly.

It was a combination of your sobs and whimpers that drove him forward like an animal, unable to stop eating at your cunt until you came twice from his tongue. You finally had to tug on his hair to pull him away, your skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and chest heaving beneath him.

"Could smell you all fucking night," he admitted hoarsely, wiping his palm over his slick covered mouth. "Drove me crazy, couldn't stop thinking about it. Christ, I- I've never needed someone this badly, baby," he told you as he pushed his boxers off and gripped the base of his cock in his fist. "'M sorry, can't explain it-"

"I know," you croaked before hauling yourself up from the mattress. You moved towards him on your knees, legs still wobbly but you managed to hold yourself up. "I feel it, too. I don't want to leave this bed for a week," you murmured before pressing your lips against his and groaning at the taste of you on his mouth. Again, all you could think was mine, mine, mine. You were consumed by the thought, overwhelmed by the idea of Dave smelling like you so everybody would know he was yours.

Your tongue dove into his mouth greedily, a sentiment he easily returned. You dragged your fingers through his hair, down his neck, over his broad shoulders and down his soft stomach until you found his cock standing at attention between you.

"I- shit," Dave moaned when your lips nipped and sucked down his jaw until you found a tender spot behind his ear you seemed to like while your fist slowly pumped him up and down. "I don't have a condom, I didn't think... do you have any?"

You did, but you paused and thought about it. Even though you were on birth control, you still always used a condom, just to be extra safe. But the idea of having a barrier between you and Dave just felt wrong. You wanted to feel him bare, you needed it. So, you decided on a non-answer.

"I'm on birth control," you whispered, and Dave seemed just as relieved as you at the prospect of taking you raw. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the way you continued to suck and bite at the spot behind his ear while stroking his cock. He wanted to tell you there was a scar there, one he couldn't remember getting, but he was struggling to form a coherent thought.

When your teeth grazed his skin too harshly, he growled and bared his teeth like a goddamn animal, but not because it hurt. Because it felt good.

"Think you can take it, baby?" he rasped, fingers pressing into the softness of your hips.

"Mhmm," you hummed, finally tearing yourself away from his neck, proudly leaving a little red mark of your own before letting go of his cock and twisting around to fall onto all fours.

Dave moaned at the sight of you presenting yourself to him on a silver fucking platter before crawling forward.

He took hold of himself, all heavy and leaking, so he could notch at your entrance. He hummed a little, enjoying the way your warmth spread over his engorged tip, using it to spread your slick around to make it easier to first enter you.

Impatiently, you wiggled a little and tried to spear yourself on him, but he chuckled and grabbed your waist, making you still.

"Want it that bad?" he taunted, voice dropping low, the lust in his veins pumping hard and fast through every inch of his body.

"Yes," you whined, tilting your head back as if you were in pain. "Yes. Please, Dave, don't tease me."

And how could he deny you? He simply wasn't strong enough, his need for you so hot that it burned through his resolve in a matter of seconds.

His eyelids fluttered when his tip slipped past your folds, jaw dropped when he first pressed a few inches inside, face twisting and breath growing ragged when his hips finally came flush with your ass.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, blinking away the tears that suddenly burned his eyes. Shaky hands found your hips and he braced himself, taking a few deep breaths while he waited for your walls to relax and your whimpering to quiet down.

Dave swallowed and looked down, nearly coming apart right then and there at the sight.

"God, baby, you oughta see the way you stretch for me," he breathed, still staring down where you were connected. "That feel good? Hm? Talk to me," he pleaded before drawing back an inch just to watch more of your arousal get pushed out when he slid back inside.

"Yes," you hissed, "I'm so hot, Dave, it feels like I'm on fucking fire, please fucking move."

"Are you sure?" he asked, but his hips had already begun to rock into you without his permission. You nodded and let your eyes fall closed so you could focus on the way each one of his thrusts and grunts soothed the flames roaring inside you.

"Harder," you whispered, not even sure he heard it, but then a moment later his grip around you tightened and his hips snapped faster, the sounds of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room and making you dizzy.

You heard him whispering something to himself but you couldn't make it out. You craned your neck back, bleary eyes trying to find his but every forceful thrust of his hips jolted your entire body and sent you halfway up the bed just to have his massive hands drag you back down.

"Fuck it," he murmured before grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up so your back was pressed to his chest. You gasped in surprise and cried out at his relentless pace, never once missing a beat. One of your hands reached around to grab the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close so his mouth was directly next to your ear.

"So - fucking - tight. Want you so - fucking - bad," he whispered through clenched teeth. Both his arms circled around your middle in order to keep you steady, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin. You twisted your neck, seeking out his mouth so you could swallow down those words and have them echo like the beat of a drum inside you.

Your lips crashed together, messily licking and biting at one another while he grunted and growled, hammering into you with everything he had. The tip of his cock reached a spot deep within you that forced all the air from your lungs just to be followed by a sharp gasp. It was making you lightheaded, the persistent pattern - grunt, thrust, gasp, grunt, thrust, gasp - and then his hand traveled lower.

"Oh!" you cried out, your fingers slipping through the thick hair on the back of his head and body slumping a bit but he kept a firm hold around your ribs, still pressing you against his front while his fingers rubbed fast, precise circles over your clit.

Your thighs began to shake and your hips sunk lower, unable to keep yourself from giving into the pleasure mounting low in your belly. Your muscles fucking burned from the effort to stay upright, even with his help it was becoming impossible to do.

"Dave," you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut as your head came to rest on his shoulder. It was all you could remember to say, Dave, Dave, Dave. Just like he said. And it was perfect because that was all he wanted to hear.

"You're close," he murmured, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers working expertly over your clit and hips still snapping tirelessly against your ass. You just nodded, slack jawed, as you focused on your release. So close. So fucking close, you wanted to say, but no words came out.

"Give it to me," he growled, voice sounding like a command. Your eyes flew open and a moment later, you came. You bore down on him, pussy clenching around his thick shaft still slamming inside you, in and out, in and out, while you wailed his name over and over until you grew weak and your muscles threatened to give out.

Dave made a pleased sound before pushing you forward onto the bed. You fell onto your forearms with a huff, still in a rosy haze from your orgasm. One hand gripped your hip, the other your shoulder, and he used you. He fucking used you to get himself off, slamming into you as hard as he liked, chasing his release, puffing and growling above you until he finally stilled and you felt his spend slowly fill you up.

"Fuck!" Dave groaned, gaze pinned to the way he spilled out of you when he pulled out. "Fucking beautiful, baby," he whispered hoarsely, still panting for breath as he continued to watch. You whined and your hips began to drop, so he collapsed next to you and tugged you against him, spooning you with his face pressed into your shoulder and his hands soothingly stroking any part of you he could reach.

"I'll... I'll get you something in a minute," he muttered, chest still heaving as he held you close. You just shook your head and closed your eyes.

"It's okay," you whispered softly.

There was so much you wanted to say, but fear held you back. You wanted to tell him how incredible it was, how you never came that hard before in your life, how amazing you felt now that he finally gave you what you needed.

Once his breathing evened out, he began to nose gently at your back. He trailed up through your hair, pushing it aside until his tongue found the skin on the back of your neck. It felt so good, melting in his arms and sharing in a warm glow while he bit and licked at the back of your neck. It didn't even strike you as an odd thing to do, the pair of you were too deep to recognize it.

With a sigh, you lifted his left hand from your stomach and examined his long fingers, your own slowly tracing his as he continued to mindlessly suck at your neck.

"What's the story here?" you asked bravely, tapping twice on the tan line of his ring finger. "You never really said much."

He grunted into your skin and forced himself to unlatch from your neck.

"Was married," he said simply. "Didn't work out."

You hummed and laced your fingers with his while he watched from over your shoulder. His cock twitched alive against your thigh when you wiggled in his grasp.

"Why?"

He shrugged, lips dragging over your shoulder. If someone had asked him that six months ago, he would have had a much more emotional reaction. Anger mixed with pain, most likely. But you had somehow managed to dwindle it down to a light shrug.

"Don't think it was just one thing," he admitted.

You nodded solemnly, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

"Does it still hurt to talk about?" you asked him. You wished you knew more but you feared you might burst the perfect little bubble you had found yourselves in.

Dave smiled and, with his free hand, lifted your leg so your ankle rested on the outside of his knee.

"Not anymore," he said right before sinking back inside you.

It was the dreams that finally made you both snap out of the lust filled stupor you were lost in.

Dave had spent the night and entire next day with you, only giving yourselves enough time to eat and rest in between the countless times you found yourself impaled on his cock. It was sometime in the mid afternoon when you had fallen asleep on his chest that you awoke with a start, unable to shaky an eerie feeling.

"Dave?"

His eyes snapped open and found yours, looking slightly rattled, himself.

You breathed a sigh of relief and nuzzled into his bare chest. "I had such a weird dream."

"Me, too," he said, voice thick with sleep. He swiped a palm over his face before stretching both arms above his head. "What was yours about?"

You went on to tell him about the very vivid dream you had about him, although the man in your dreams didn't look like Dave nor did he have the same name, you just somehow knew it was him. With your face heating up, you glazed over the part where you fucked like animals in heat for a week straight and all together left out the end where you had a full blown family together, figuring it would be a bit too much and it would most definitely scare him off. But much to your surprise, he detailed a dream of his own that was so similar, it gave you goosebumps.

"Maybe we need to get out of this apartment for five fucking minutes," you joked, yet still couldn't shake the lingering feeling of familiarity.

After a few moments where you both remained quiet and lost in thought, Dave spoke again.

"There was something else."

You tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"I think we had... a family."

Dave closed his eyes as if he too felt like saying it would be too much too fast, but you shot up excitedly in bed.

"We had kids in my dream, too," you confessed, and the both of you stared at one another in shock. "And this isn't the first time, either," you added. Embarrassment was the furthest thing from your mind now as the words came tumbling from your lips. "I had them before we even had our first date."

Dave's eyes went wide and he sat up, as well.

"Shit," he muttered, "me, too. Thought I was crazy."

"Maybe we are," you huffed, still in complete disbelief. Then you remembered what Shannon had said when you poured your heart out to her and your brow furrowed before digging in the sheets for your phone.

"What is it?" he asked as he watched you.

"My friend, the one you met the night we had our date," you said as you busily focused on your phone. "She knows a little about this stuff. She's a little strange but -"

"Let's go talk to her," he said before you even had to ask. You sent your text and looked around your room.

Could you really have known one another in a past life?

You weren't sure how you got there, but in just a few short days you found yourselves standing outside the old Victorian house of Talia Carter, a friend of Shannon's whom she recommended the minute she read your text about your shared dreams.

Talia, or 'Duchess' as she preferred to be called, claimed to be clairvoyant and promised she would be able to do readings on you both to find out if your hunch was right or if you were both just certifiably insane.

Despite all the evidence, you still had your doubts as you climbed the old wooden steps of her porch. Talia swung the door open, her bright red lipstick laid on thick and stretched into a wide smile framed by her very long, straight dark hair. But her smile faded almost instantly once she saw you and she gripped the doorframe for support, alarming you both. She quickly shook her head and refocused her gaze on you both before apologizing and ushering you inside.

You hesitated for a moment and glanced up at Dave.

"My friend Shannon called, I'm -"

"I know, sweetheart," she said as if it were clear as day. "I know exactly who you are."

Dave's hand fell to your lower back and he peered inside her house before determining she wasn't some kind of obvious psycho before nodding to you and taking your hand. Talia bit back a smile and she stepped aside, holding the door open wide for you both.

"If you would like to follow me, I have a study where I do my readings just off the kitchen. Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked over her shoulder, leading you past a dark cherry wooden dining room table and matching China cabinet, as well as countless green plants stuck on every flat surface.

"No, thank you," you said, gaze roaming around the room, temporarily stunned by the very unique Elizabethan style she chose. It seemed as though she liked her wallpaper dark and oriental rugs mismatched. The woodwork appeared to be all original, or at least it was made to look that way, and it was all meticulously cared for.

"I prefer to model my home after my own past life," she said when she caught you gawking at the beautiful wainscotting and then the glittery chandelier above her desk.

The two of you sunk down into a soft velvet sofa across from her.

"You remember your past life?" Dave asked, his hand falling to your knee, body curling protectively around you when he crossed a leg and leaned forward. Talia noticed but she didn't say a word. Not yet.

"Yes. I believe Shannon mentioned I preferred to go by Duchess," she explained as she pulled out some tarot cards as well as a few books from the built in bookshelf behind her. "I was the Duchess of Argyll and I still very much connect with that lifestyle, so I have tried to recreate it in my home."

"Well, you've done a beautiful job," you told her honestly. She paused and gave you a sweet smile before opening one of her books and flipping through the pages.

"You are very kind, thank you," she said, "but we are not here to talk about my past life. We are here to talk about yours."

You bit your lip and leaned closer to Dave. Without even looking up, she asked, "Hundreds of years ago, the human race was suffering and on the brink of going extinct. It's believed Mother Nature took over and created ranks among human beings in order to boost the population. Have you ever heard of Alphas and Omegas?"

You both frowned and shook your heads. When she found the page she wanted, she lit up and turned it around, pushing it across the desk so you could see.

"I could do a reading on you both, but it's simply not necessary," she said. You were about to lean forward to look at the page when you froze.

"Why?"

She grinned and sat back in her chair, looking at the two of you like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"I sensed it the moment I saw you. You were mates in a prior life," she replied. She pointed to Dave's hand on your knee. "You're very protective of her, yes?"

Dave shrugged and scooted closer to the edge of the sofa. "That isn't unusual."

"No, you're right," she said, then leaned forward to rest her elbows on her desk, lacing her fingers together. "But tell me, do you have any noticeable scars? Maybe ones you have trouble remembering how they came to be?"

Your hand immediately came up to rub the back of your neck and Dave noticed. Visions of him licking and biting in that very same spot swam in your memories and you glanced up at him once again, watching as he came to the same realization.

"How did you get that?" he asked you softly. Your eyes darted wildly back and forth between his before answering.

"My mom and dad always told me different stories, I'm not - I was never really sure."

Then you recalled how fixated you were on the spot behind his ear the first time you had sex and you lunged forward, brushing his hair out of the way with a gasp.

"Where did -"

"I don't know," he said immediately, the energy in the room shifting as you both stumbled into something inexplicable. "I grew up in an orphanage. No one was ever able to tell me."

Your eyes watered for a moment at the thought of a young Dave growing up scared and all alone, but you forced yourself to put it out of your mind for now. You turned back to Talia, who was watching you both with an unreadable expression.

You told her everything. You told her about your dreams, the extraordinary pull between you, the intensity and passion when you had sex, the hopelessness you felt when you thought he rejected you. And most importantly, the calm and secure feeling whenever he was near.

She gave the book a little nudge and you took it on your lap so the two of you could read, but you were hardly absorbing any of it. The words knot, glands, scent marking, heat, imprinting floated across the page while she spoke, explaining everything she knew. And as crazy as it all sounded, neither of you could deny the signs.

You stayed for over an hour, asking question after question. She explained how your scars were most likely remnants of the scent glands that each of you pierced, which bonded you forever as mates. How the dreams that you both had were memories of your past life and the unbreakable bond you shared was what drew you together. When you mentioned the way your body felt like it was on fire, skin hot to the touch, she explained in more detail about heats and ruts and how it was your body's response to finding one another.

When you finally stood to leave, exhausted and unable to think of another question, she refused to take Dave's money. When he tried to insist, she held up her hands and shook her head firmly.

"You have no idea how rare this is for someone like me. Meeting the two of you is an experience I will never forget."

She even let you take home the book you had still open on your lap, your minds racing as you tried to keep up with the whirlwind of information thrown at you.

When she walked you to the door, the sun dipping low in the sky already, she placed a hand on each one of your shoulders and looked at you both intently.

"Promise me you will not squander this gift," she said. "You have no idea how unusual it is for mates to find one another again. The odds are astronomical and yet here you are, reunited by a twist of fate."

You had no idea what to say. You looked up at Dave sheepishly and he smiled warmly at you before saying, "We promise."

Once back in his car, silence surrounding you even though your minds were buzzing with activity, he reached for your hand.

"Do you believe her?" he asked. You bit the inside of your cheek and stared straight ahead down her long driveway before slowly nodding and turning to face him.

"I think I do."

A big grin stretched across his face and he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. "I think I do, too."

You giggled and ran your fingers through your hair, a rush of adrenaline burning through your veins.

"Now what?" you asked him, letting him drop your hand so he could shift his car into drive.

But before he pressed on the gas, he gave you one final look and said, "I don't know, but whatever it is, we'll do it together."

#dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #roll a trope challenge #the equalizer 2 fanfic #the equalizer #omegaverse #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #reincarnation

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blueteller · 14 days ago

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Introducing Character Trope: STEBS (Stoic Traumatized Epic Bastard Softie)

I have tried to look this up on TV tropes, but it does not exist. Not officially, at least. So I decided – I'm introducing new trope. It already exist, someone might as well try and give it a name.

And yeah, this acronym SUCKS, feel free to come up with a better one! But let's talk about what a "STEBS" character is for me, because I've come to the conclusion that it is actually my favorite character type.

First, context. Ever since I've read TCF, I have come across other medias and I was often like, "Hey, this character is basically just like Cale!" – which I feel like, it isn't really fair? I mean, Cale is a great and complex character, but making this comparison constantly makes me feel like I'm undermining the complexity of OTHER characters. Just because Cale shares similarities with other characters doesn't make them copies of him.

So, what exactly is a STEBS?

1) Stoic

This character has a very specific way of acting in non-confrontational situations. It can be respectful, it can be casual, but it is neither extremely friendly nor extremely rude. It's in a calm, pleasant zone, where the character treats others like... well, people. The character doesn't make themselves superior nor inferior, it doesn't matter to them if the other is a beggar or a king. They just are, calm and casual. That's what makes them stoic - NOT lack of expressions or emotions, or lack of humor. It's the way they carry themselves on the regular. This character type makes others feel relaxed because of it, and subconsciously encourages trust and friendship (much to the character's confusion). They will also make a great educator because of it, and will likely act as a mentor or a teacher more than once.

2) Traumatized

Despite the stoicism in their behavior, they actually have a complicated background. Commonly an orphan, even though not always, this person has been through a LOT. But, they don't usually express it. Seeing this character cry or break down is EXTREMELY rare and always a very important scene in a story. It's not that they're not emotional or they always try to bury their trauma, although that does usually apply to them; they're just not vocal about it due to their personality. But oh boy, are they traumatized! Wait for that reveal later in the story though, when it actually becomes plot-relevant.

3) Epic

Despite the character being a stoic type, with a backstory that makes them crave very simple things – be it retirement, respect from their peers, a safe house to live in, a stable job, a family, a specific successful career – they are actually freaking epic where it comes to things they do. They either have great knowledge, memory, or skills in a particular field and they always manage to surprise others with just how competent they are. It can be literal combat skills, magic, being a life-saving surgeon, or even a therapist. But whenever they get their chance to shine, they become a real star.

4) Bastard

A trait that adds a surprising amount of charm and humor to their other traits. Being stoic makes them likeable, being traumatized makes them sympathetic, being epic makes them cool – but being a bastard? It actually just means they're mischievous and have a penchant for chaos. Because this character is meant to make changes in the narrative, like an accidental revolutionary or a transmigrator, they have to possess a cunning streak that might seem mean or selfish at first, but actually never crosses the line into making them despicable. It just makes them an occasional manipulator, but it's usually portrayed in a way that still makes it impossible to make you hate them. In fact, it makes you love them more for it. They are not naive, even if they can be oblivious or silly at times; being a bastard to those who deserve it means being able to get out of sticky situations that would be problematic for paragon heroes. It includes stuff like acting, pranks, cheating, manipulation, shady deals, gambling, stealing, and even criminal behavior, that is actually very understandable due to their specific circumstances.

5) Softie

And if all the previous traits haven't convinced you to love this character yet, the last one surely will. This character, despite having a mean streak, is in fact never mean to innocent people. Actually, they are surprising soft and/or sentimental, especially towards the helpless and children. This character will probably have at least one animal sidekick, at least one paragon protagonist type on their payroll, and most importantly an adopted child - if the previous two don't already fill that spot. This character will make excuses of course, they will claim that they are taking care of others for their own benefits. But you will see quickly that they don't treat others like a heartless manipulator, but more of an overprotective mother-hen. This character, no matter their gender, will eventually become the typical Mom Friend. They will make sure everybody eats well, sleeps well, they get their allowance, pack their lunch before heading out to participate in the plot and probably try to sacrifice themselves for them more than once. They will of course become the mentor figure on top of it, and possibly even be a straight up legal guardian and/or teacher to other important characters.

And this, my friends, is what I call a STEBS character. While it outlines a general, it's not a strict definition, mind you. Even if a character exhibit one trait less than the others (for example not being much of a bastard, or not being very stoic), it still counts as long as you still recognize them as fitting in this "category".

Characters in this category include:

Cale Henituse from Trash of the Count's Family

Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars

Aizawa Shota from My Hero Academia

Kakashi from Naruto

Remus Lupin from Harry Potter

Faramir from Lord of the Rings

Kim Dokja from Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Rimuru Tempest from That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

Park Moondae from Debut or Die

Won Hwabu from I Reincarnated as a Legendary Surgeon

And many, many others.

Let me know if you have a better name for this very specific character type!

#character analysis #writing #tropes #stebs character #tcf meta #trash of the count's family #star wars #my hero academia #naruto #harry potter #lord of the rings #omniscient reader's viewpoint #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #debut or die #i reincarnated as a legendary surgeon

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eepyracc · 11 months ago

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MC does this thing of poking the corner of Xavier's mouth whenever he looks upset and it means the world to me

Now imagine every reincarnation of MC does this, and each time she does it Xavier just smiles bittersweetly hahahahahah do you hear my heart shattering into pieces

#anecdote 3 left me in tears yall #terminal illness and reincarnation trope combination is my only weakness and Xavier lore just so happens to be this #i want to eat my fist #i love him so much yall cannot comprehend #ive been bawling over this for like hours now #also his timeline gives me fnaf lore war flashbacks #love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace

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jetsetclassic · 2 months ago

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why do like 90% reincarnation AUs always revolve around a romance. and SECOND of all why does everyone write the reincarnated to all have the same reaction of “oh crap… i remper… my hubsansb…” and they have a tearful reunion saying “i never thought id see you again”.

what about the slow burn of regaining bits and pieces of said old self! what about characters who try to push back and suppress the past self, trying to just carry on with their life! what about the characters that fully embrace their old self and are caught off-guard by their current self! what about the surrounding consequences of concern at said shifts in identity and attitude!!

what about the fear of losing someone, only to find that the outer shell was never “them” at all!

#.txt #reincarnation #reincarnation au #sorry for yapping. ive had a story concept in my head about the latter end of this post for a hot second now #and agh!!!! id kill for some variety with this trope

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joelalorian · 3 months ago

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Through Every Lifetime

marcus moreno x f!reader | wc: 4579 | 18+ mdni | masterlist

Summary: Two souls find each other through every lifetime when love refuses to give up.

Warnings: Rated E for the naughty bits, 18+ minors mdni. A touch of angst, lots of fluff, some good ol' smut. Unprotected p in v, f!oral. Soulmate vibes. Young Missy. Reader has hair and skin of unspecified color. No ages mentioned other than Missy's. No use of y/n.

A/N: Thank you to @burntheedges for inspiring this piece with the Roll-A-Trope Challenge! I received "reincarnation" as the trope and went with Marcus Moreno because the man deserves a love story. Please check out all the other wonderful challenge entries here.

Dividers courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Smoke filled the air, stealing the oxygen from your lungs. Fellow villagers scrambled around you, choking on the ashes of their burning homes as you stared around in shock.

How could things have fallen apart so quickly?

Just hours ago, you and your fierce warrior met in the fields beneath a clear sky filled with the brightest stars you could remember seeing. The pair of you laid in the tall grasses, hidden safely from view of any villagers wandering in the midnight hour, and spoke of a future you hoped to spend together. You let your bodies to most of the talking, but there was no doubt that you and Marcus Moreno were meant for each other.

From the day you first set eyes on him, a weary warrior searching for a new home after the only one he knew was destroyed by raiders. Dirty and tired as he looked, Marcus was still the most gorgeous man you ever set eyes upon. Tall and broad, with dark, thick hair and eyes that pierced your soul, you were lost from that moment on.

The attraction? Mutual.

The bond? Instant.

The love? Everlasting.

It felt like you knew him for a thousand lifetimes yet there was so much more left to learn. He was an enigma to you.

The stories the old women of your village told around the fire as they cooked the plunders of the day’s hunt, of love and romance, made sense to you then. Marcus made you understand all of that.

A sharp cry of your name drew you back to the present, to the oppressive heat and thick air, to the crackling of wood burning, of your home being obliterated from existence.

Eyes darting wildly around the horrific scene before you, Marcus shouted your name again as he fought his way through the crowd of frantic villagers.

“Marcus!” you sobbed, falling into his arms the moment he reached you. “What is happening?”

“We’re being attacked! You need to get out of here, go with the other women and hide. Don’t let these men catch you, please!”

His tone something you never heard before, so hopeless and terrified, brought tears to your eyes. You only clutched him harder, refusing to let go.

“No! I can’t leave you!” Your voice cracked, knowing in your heart nothing good would come from leaving him. Nor would any good come from staying. Rock, meet hard place.

The sound of arrows cutting through the air surrounded you, and Marcus shifted you both beneath a copse of trees, protecting you from the deadly projectiles. “My Angel, you must,” Marus insisted, using his favorite term of endearment for you. His large yet infinitely gentle hands grasped your face, his eyes dark pools of worry. “I must fight, and I need to know that you are safe. Please.”

Your souls reached for each other; your bodies unable to support you anymore. The Earth rose to meet you both as you crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. You clutched him to you with superhuman strength, unable to let go. “No! Please! I love you, Marcus. I can’t lose you. We haven’t had enough time!”

No amount of time would have been enough, if you were being honest.

His large hands gently grasped your face again, thumbs swiping away the tears flowing down your cheeks. “My love for your is eternal, no matter how little time we’ve had together. I live and die for you, Angel.”

“Then live! Live for me, Marcus,” you begged, tears falling harder when he kissed you with desperation. You would have crawled beneath his skin and burrowed into his chest cavity if possible, so strong the urge to never let him go.

The sounds of battle grew ever closer, and you knew the time to let go had come, as much as the entirety of your being, your soul fought against the idea. You shared one last kiss, pouring every ounce of love for each other into it, before separating.

“Go, run!” Marcus ordered, tears visibly glistening in the fire reflected in his dark eyes as he watched you flee to safety.

You glanced once over your shoulder, sneaking one more glimpse of him as you fled. That was the last time you saw Marcus Moreno in your lifetime.

Some days, Marcus Moreno wondered how in the world he managed to keep both himself and an eight-year-old Missy alive. With his wife, Melanie, gone for two years now, he thought – no, hoped – things would get easier. Times like this, he doubted that would ever happen.

Missy, in all her endless adorableness, tried to do something nice for him by making breakfast. Unfortunately, the kitchen did not fair well in this endeavor. Pancake mix splattered everywhere from the counters to the ceiling – how in the world did she manage that, he wondered – and the remaining mix that survived was burnt into little hockey pucks. The smoke alarms that woke him initially, alerting him to the disaster, still screeched despite the open windows and his frantic waving of a dish towel beneath them.

Freshly showered and already soaked through with a stress-induced sweat, Marcus teetered on the edge of his breaking point. He had a busy workday ahead of him, still needed to get Missy ready and drop her off at school and come up with a way to tell Granada that he couldn’t do fieldwork anymore due to Missy’s begging.

His little girl was terrified of losing another parent – the only one she had left – and Marcus could not blame her for that.

Just when he thought he would succumb to a panic attack, his mother walked through the front door.

“¡Ay dios mio! What in the world is going on in here?” Anita Moreno exclaimed, immediately assuming control of the situation. With expert efficiency, she dispatched the ruined pancakes, cleared up the pancake mix, and got the damn smoke alarms to finally shut the hell up.

On the verge of a breakdown, Marcus fell heavily into a seat at the kitchen table. Shoulders slumped and feeling like a failure, he bounced his forehead against the wooden table top a few times.

“Mijo, go get cleaned up and changed. I’ll take care of Missy.”

His mom was a goddamn life saver.

With a sigh, Marcus heaved himself off the chair, pressing a kiss to first his mom’s head, then Missy’s. “Thank you, Mom. I… I don’t know where I’d be without your help.”

Anita just smiled sadly at him in return, watching as he told his own child how much he loved her before heading up the stairs with glistening eyes.

“He is still so sad,” Missy said sagely, wise beyond her eight years of life.

“He is,” Anita replied simply. “It’s a lot for him to have to do all of this on his own and with the added pressure at work, he feels overwhelmed. But he loves you so much, he’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” Missy admitted. “I miss my mom every day, and I know Dad does, too. I just wish…”

Anita waited for the little girl to finish the thought, but when it was clear Missy wasn’t going to on her own, the older woman helped her along. “You just wish what?”

“I just wish he had someone, you know, to care about him and love him like Mom did.” After another moment, Missy added, “Is that bad?”

Anita’s eyes softened, and she pulled the girl in for a tight hug. “No, not at all. We all want that for him. Love… well, love is rarely a bad thing, and we all deserve to find it, to have it, to feel it.”

The pair grew quiet until Anita ushered Missy into her room to finish getting ready for school. An idea was percolating in Anita’s mind, something that would help her son cope with being a single father while also leading the Heroics, and hopefully, give him something else to focus on. She had just the woman in mind for this little idea of hers, too.

Down on your luck after a sudden layoff, you joined a book club for something to take your mind off life’s struggles. The group was a nice mix of women ranging in age from 30 to 65 and you found yourself enjoying every moment spent with them.

Over the past month, you grew particularly close with Anita Moreno, the unofficial leader of the group. The connection was instant – during your first meeting, Anita took one look at your downtrodden expression and made it her mission to befriend you.

The pair of you quickly set a pattern of meeting for coffee on the weekends, where you sat listening to the older woman speak of her son and granddaughter, her former job at the Heroics, and any number of other fascinating topics. It didn’t take long to feel like you already knew the people in her life just by how much she spoke about them.

So, it was little to no surprise when Anita had an immediate solution to the problem when you casually mentioned the lack of luck in finding a decent job and the pending expiration of your lease on the apartment you could no longer afford.

“Marcus needs help,” Anita stated plainly.

“What kind of help?” You doubted there was a single thing in the world that you could help the ever-capable leader of the freaking Heroics with.

Anita smiled with the confidence of a woman who knew she was exactly right. “The kind that would make his life easier. Helping out with Missy, taking care of the house, just generally being there to support him. You could even stay at the house with them – it would solve your housing situation.”

That sounded like… a lot, moving in with two people you’ve not even met yet. “Are you sure they’d want me to live there? I mean, does he even know you’re suggesting this?”

Anita was exactly the kind of woman to hatch a brilliant plan without informing anyone until all the wheels were in motion.

She waved you off. “I’m sure they’d love to have you there. One look at you and Marcus will be kneeling at your feet in gratitude.”

You shook your head with a laugh. You doubted that. Anita enticed you some more with the weekly pay she offered. Between that and having a place to live other than your car, how could you possibly turn the offer down?

“Ok, fine. You win, I’ll take the job.” You held up a finger at Anita’s ecstatic expression. “But I need you to make sure your son is on board with all of this before I just show up at his house with all my worldly belongings.”

“I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry.”

You still felt a pit in your stomach. You loved Anita like family, but you didn’t necessarily trust her.

“You what?!” Marcus exclaimed into the phone. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sat back in his office chair. “Mom, you can’t just hire someone to live in my home without asking me first!”

He knew his mom meant well and only wanted to help, but what the hell was she thinking offering a perfect stranger the opportunity to live in his home and take care of Missy without even checking if it was something he wanted.

The weight of the world pressed down harder on his shoulders as Marcus listened to his mom’s expertly crafted argument and before he knew it, he agreed to the plan. He would meet this mystery woman, who was apparently very close friends with his mom, tonight.

Marcus really had no control over his own life, it seemed.

The workday could not end soon enough – being diplomatic with a group of superpowered people who acted like overgrown children more often than not was exhausting. Marcus dashed away in the middle of Miracle Guy’s long-winded complaint about… shit, Marcus didn’t even remember what it was, nor did he care. He needed a break, to get home and decompress for a moment before his new houseguest arrived.

Too exhausted to do much more than a brief tidy up of the house and a quick shower for himself, Marcus ordered pizza and waited for his mother to arrive with you. He still didn’t know how to feel about this plan of his mother’s, but he couldn’t deny that he needed help.

God, he hoped you were nice and trustworthy. If you were a friend of his mom’s, then you were likely older, maybe had children and grandchildren of your own. Hopefully you wouldn’t try to mother him, though. He got enough of that from his own mom, thank you very much.

All too soon, the bell rang signaling the arrival of the pizza. Almost immediately after he closed the door, his mother knocked twice and opened the door. Marcus placed the pizza box on the counter and turned around, locking eyes with you.

Time stopped.

Ever have that feeling of déjà vu, but like with a person? Like you met them before, but not in this life?

That’s what it felt like to Marcus as his heart thudded in his chest. Wide, dark chocolate eyes drank every detail of you in from behind black plastic framed glasses. That feeling growing larger as he took in the shape of your face, the color of your eyes, the hesitant curve of your lips as you stared back at him in equally wide-eyed wonder.

Did you feel it, too?

Marcus got the sense that you did, judging by the look in your eyes which no doubt matched the one in his own.

Seconds became minutes as you stared at each other, neither noticing Anita and Missy glancing between the pair of you with delightful curiosity.

“It’s getting awkward now, right?” Missy whispered, her little brows furrowed as she continued watching her dad and you stare at each other.

“Indeed, it is,” Anita replied quietly. With a quick clap of her hands, she snapped the two of you back to reality. Despite the manners she instilled in Marcus, he clearly wasn’t going to introduce himself with the trance he was in, so Anita took the liberty.

“Mijo, this is the friend I told you about.” Urging you both closer, Anita spoke your name. “This is my son, Marcus.”

“Hi, Marcus,” you said, your voice like music to his ears. Reaching out a hand to shake his, you added, “Have we met before?”

“It sure feels like it, doesn’t it?” Marcus took your hand in his larger one, grip strong yet gentle, and… you both gasped as a sudden jolt of electricity passed between you the moment your skin touched.

Suddenly, flashes of a previous life played through his mind. A starry night filled with fire and panic, arrows whipping through the smoky air as villagers fled their burning homes. And you. You were there with him, tears in your fearful eyes as you declared your love and begged him not to leave you moments before saying goodbye for the last time. Like a movie playing in reverse, he flashed back from that point, catching more glimpses of that prior life, of your time together, of the love you shared in your too short lives.

“My Angel,” Marcus cooed at you as he came back to reality. His hand tightened around yours as his other hand rose up to graze against the soft skin of your face.

“Marcus,” you breathed, eyes glistening. “We really have met before.”

“You saw that, too?” Marcus questioned, heart beating frantically against his ribcage. “I’ve never experienced something like that. How is that possible?”

“Me neither,” you admitted. “I have no idea.”

The two of you stood frozen, hands still clasped and eyes locked until Missy couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s going on? Why are you being so weird, Dad?” she questioned, confused at the odd behavior. She’d never seen that look on her dad’s face, mesmerized like he was in awe and love, yet a little scared and unnerved all at the same time.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Anita murmured, watching you and her son share an entirely unique experience. “I’ve heard of this happening but never saw it firsthand.”

“What? What is happening? What are you talking about?” Missy was beginning to panic, tears brimming in her eyes at her frustration and fear.

Marcus, still frozen and feeling like an otherworldly force held in him place, held your hand in his, and glanced at his mom. A slight tilt of his head toward Missy was all it took for Anita to get the message, and she scooped the confused young girl to her side.

“Why don’t we all sit down and have some pizza. I’ll share what I know about what’s going on while we eat,” Anita said, leading the way into the kitchen. Once everyone was seated with a slice of pizza in front of them, Anita began her explanation. “Have you ever heard of reincarnation?”

It took a week after Anita explained the phenomenon for everyone to accept and adapt to the concept of you and Marcus being reincarnated lovers from a time long ago. It was strange, and you danced around each other awkwardly in that first week. Still, the plan remained the same – you would move in and assist with caring for Missy and anything else that Marcus needed help with. But, given the circumstances, it felt wrong to accept money for it.

You moved into the guest room down the hall from Marcus’ bedroom, neither of you ready to just jump right into a relationship let alone share a bedroom based on history and a cosmic pull towards each other. Despite your souls longing to connect, the mutual decision was made to take things slow and allow the instant connection to percolate and strengthen naturally.

Missy took to you at once and you wondered if your soul connected to the part of Marcus her own soul carried. You bonded over a love of sweets and silly teen shows and puzzles and immense joy in teasing Marcus. The pair of you spent many an afternoon working on one puzzle or another in front of the television after homework was finished, waiting for Marcus to get home from work.

You and Marcus dipped your toes into exploring the connection between you in small ways starting with morning conversations over coffee and expanding into a first, then second date.

Before you knew it, a month passed, and the third date night arrived. The first two were lovely dinners out together, the two of you sharing anything and everything about each other over pasta and wine. The third date, however, was a quiet night at home sans Missy, who was spending the night at Anita’s house.

Even though you were staying home, you put some effort into your appearance, styling your hair and putting on a light layer of makeup. You stuck with comfortable yet fitted clothing though. It was the third date, after all, and you imagined whatever you wore would end up on the floor at some point.

Marcus waited at the bottom of the stairs as you made your way to the ground floor, a goofy grin on his handsome face. He opted for comfortable as well, you noticed, and looked sexy as hell in black joggers and a fitted tee shirt. The slim fit of the pants offered a dazzling view of his bulge, hinting at the treasure hidden beneath. Your mouth watered.

“You look beautiful, Angel.” Marcus entwined your fingers in his, pulling your hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on your smooth skin. “I ordered in from that sushi place in town. That alright?”

“That’s perfect, Marcus.” You leant over and kissed his cheek just above the patchy scruff you loved. “Let’s eat in the living room and watch a movie.”

The pull of your connection had become nearly overwhelming in the last few days, and you longed to cuddle up next to him on the plush sofa.

“Were you reading my mind?” Marcus grinned, grabbing a bottle of wine, two glasses, and the bag of takeout before following you into the living room.

The blinds were drawn, and a few candles were lit in place of the usual lamps, giving the room a romantic feel perfect for your third date. Marcus really thought this through. With a quick click of the remote, the opening credits to a classic movie played on the TV but you didn’t pay attention.

“Do you think we met in other lives besides that first one?” you asked before slipping a piece of spicy tuna into your mouth.

“I’d like to think so.” His soulful eyes gazed at you with burgeoning love. “This connection feels too strong to be contained in just one or two lifetimes. I imagine we’ve been connected throughout history, and that vision we both saw only showed us the beginning.”

“Yeah, I’d like to think that, too.” You both sipped at the wine, minds whirling.

Moments later, the remnants of dinner were left forgotten as Marcus pulled you in for a wine-soaked kiss. His lips danced across yours, tongue teasing along the seam before licking into your mouth. The kiss was sensual and full of promise and made your heart race.

He eased you back until your body splayed on the couch, lips caressing every inch of bare skin from your neck to your ankles. “I can’t stop thinking about you, dreaming about you, about a life together. This feeling… this connection is so strong it’s almost overwhelming.”

You keened, hips lifting slightly as Marcus slipped his fingers under the waistband of your pants, sliding them, along with your panties, down your hips and legs in one fluid motion. He tossed the clothing aside and you giggled internally, having known that whatever you wore would end up on the floor at some point.

Large hands roamed the expanse of skin revealed before easing your legs open, exposing you fully to his hungry eyes.

“Can I taste you?”

You never heard a man’s voice pitched with such neediness, but it was no match for your own.

“Please, Marcus,” you whined, fingers already curling into his thick hair and tugging urgently. He left his glasses on as his head dipped between your legs and licked at your folds. You never saw anything so deliciously hot. You loved his glasses.

His tongue swirled around your clit, and he dipped first one, then two fingers inside you to tease at that delicious spot deep inside. Marcus toyed with you until you moaned and squirmed beneath his ministrations.

“I’ve never tasted anything so delicious, my Angel. I could feast on you for the rest of my days.”

You came, body quivering with the pleasure flooding your senses and Marcus slurped at the fruits of his labor. He sat up, removing both his clothes and glasses, and you soaked in the glorious sight of his naked body as your own trembled in anticipation.

You watched with lust filled eyes as he reached into the pocket of the joggers, pulling out a condom before dropping the material to the floor. You appreciated the gesture, but you wanted nothing more than to feel just him, all of him.

Reaching out a hand and placing it over the one holding the condom, you shook your head. “I want to feel you, Marcus. Just you. It’s okay, I’m clean and safe.”

His puppy eyes widened. “Ar – are you sure?”

You nodded. “Completely. It’s been a long time for me, and I imagine the same for you. It’s okay.”

Marcus tossed the condom aside and pounced, leaving you squealing in surprise as his mouth met yours. His hands roamed, stripping you of the last bit of remaining clothing and plucking at your hardened nipples, as your hands scratched up and down his back.

The hardness of him, full and heavy, pressed against you, further igniting the ache in your core. Your hands slipped downward, grabbing handfuls of his ass as your hips wriggled until his cock pressed at your entrance.

The moment he slipped inside you, the world around you fell away and that electric pulse struck again. You made love like nothing you ever experienced before, the love and passion of a hundred lifetimes together melding into this one and taking the intimacy and pleasure to new heights.

“Angel, fuck, you feel so good.” Marcus worked his hips against you, thrusts perfectly paced to draw out the swell of your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, please,” you begged, fingers clawing at his back.

“Do you feel that?” Marcus snapped his hips, hitting that sweet spot and making you keen. “How is this possible? I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You knew exactly what he meant. You never felt so close to another person before, like the connection surpassed physics and reality and even the god damned space-time continuum. The pleasure was ethereal, growing and growing until the damn burst. Eyes rolling back in your head, your orgasm exploded through you, your walls fluttering around his cock as he worked you through it. Flashes of white shined beneath your eyelids, leaving you breathless and dumbstruck. The only sound you could manage was his name drawn out in the sweetest melody. Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.

“Fuck, Angel,” Marcus moaned into your neck, his movements growing sloppy until his hips snapped one last time. He came harder than he ever had before, filling you with rope after rope of cum and, probably, a little bit of his soul.

He collapsed atop you with exhaustion as the pleasure ebbed. After a moment, Marcus mumbled an apology and shifted to move off you, but you held fast to him. “No, stay. I like being with you like this.”

Huffing a chuckle into your skin, he settled back into place, his softening cock still inside you. “You felt that, right? I can’t find the words to describe it, but it was different from any sex I’ve ever had, even with my wife.” He winced as the final words left his mouth, but you didn’t mind the reference to his deceased wife while he was still inside you – everyone had a past.

Nodding against his shoulder, you hummed. “I felt it. It’s almost like an out of body experience. I think that is the universe’s way of letting us know we are truly meant for each other.”

“I wonder if it will be like that every time?”

“Only one way to find out,” you replied with a giggle.

Marcus propped his chin on your chest, meeting your gaze with half-lidded, vulnerable eyes. “Is it crazy to say I’m falling in love with you?”

“Nah, I’d say that’s par for the course,” you teased in return. Craning your neck, you kissed away the crease between his eyebrows. “I’m falling in love with you, too, Marcus.”

Three months later, Marcus proposed. Six months after that, you exchanged vows in front of a small group of friends and family, with Missy happily standing next to you. And for the rest of your lives – this one and all the rest to come – you shared a soul that would reunite every incarnation of you both. And yes, the sex was that fucking good every damn time.

#roll a trope challenge #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x f!reader #reincarnation #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fluff #soul mate vibes

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