It's Always The Little Things

It's always the little things

let me relax……………will comment later…………………..

What the Devil Doesn’t know

(Witch! Namjoon x Demon! Jimin x human! Reader) (Soulmate au)

Summary: when Jimin dies suddenly and mysteriously it leaves both you and namjoon devastated. But maybe Jimin’s story didn’t end there, maybe he’ll find a way to come back to you from beyond the grave.

Tags: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, themes of grief, depression, nightmares, night terrors, devil characters, magical au, witch! namjoon, magic shop au. soulmate au, brief mention of shapeshifter! Yoongi, brief yoonkook. 

W/C: 5.1k

A/n: this was heavily inspired by a dream that I had where Tae (or something posing as Tae in my dreams) said to me “I don’t care who you love in this life-but when you die- you’re mine” so yeah! when I die I’m getting that good demon dick! happy Halloween everyone!! 

Playlist: Work song - Hozier, when we all fall asleep where do we go?- Billie Eilish, Devil like me- rainbow kitten surprise.

 - As with most sweet things in life, It starts with a flower.

- Namjoon’s friend, Yoongi a shapeshifter, gives him it to him early one morning. though really, Namjoon shouldn’t be surprised that yoongi arrived just after sunrise, pawing at the window in his cat form until namjoon lets him in. he doesn’t shift until namjoon has a cup of coffee poured for him. One moment a cat and the next a very grumpy human. He barely says a thing before he plops the bulb onto Namjoon’s kitchen counter and raises an eyebrow at his unkempt hair over his coffee.

- Namjoon grumbles at that, unlike Yoongi- he doesn’t have anyone to be put together for at almost 5 in the morning. And his shop won’t open for a few more hours either- he has more than enough time to shower and be presentable before then. 

- “You have better luck with flowers than I do” he justifies. And he’s not wrong- but this flower- is something peculiar of note. All Namjoon has to do is pick it up before he realizes what the blub is- and more importantly why Yoongi has brought it to Namjoon instead of trying to pawn it off or keep it for himself.

- The flower is none other than the species ‘Animus Videndceus’ or the ‘soul seeing flower’, and it has the unique ability to bloom according to one’s soulmate.

Keep reading

could you write something with Legolas comforting reader (physical affection please 🙏🙇‍♀️) after a bad day? he sees her and instantly can tell something is wrong. thank you!!!

₊˚ ✰` ꒱ DELICATE

⟡˳⋆ FEATURING : legolas x fem!reader ❨ comfort ៸៸ fluff ៸៸ established relationship ❩ ⟡˳⋆ WC : 0.4k ⟡˳⋆ NOTES : apologies for leaving this in my inbox for so long i wanted to save it to write it during a bad day of my own loool…legolas would 100% be supremeee at comforting reader ‼️🙏 ty again for sending a req <33

WHEN THE PRINCE SEES YOU in your crestfallen state, his arms instinctively reach out. Your sights lay on the ground before you through half lidded eyes, an overwhelming vulnerability prodding at your back as he approaches with a slender hand outstretched. He cups your cheek as he leans in to press a soft kiss onto your temple while a strong arm encircles your waist from behind.

There are no words needed in this moment of such tender care, but he uses them anyway as he engulfs you in his safe embrace. “My starlight…” He breathes. You turn to face him and immediately bury your face into his chest, eyes clenching shut with a feeble attempt to halt your incoming tears, yet they seep into his tunic and dampen the icy blue into a mass of grey, and when you look up to meet his softened gaze he can barely withhold the sight. “What troubles you?” He says, catching a freshly fallen tear with his thumb. Revealing your burdens proves much harder than you can handle at the moment, with a relentless lump that barricades your throat from speaking. You bring your palm up to brush over your dampened cheeks, and through your misty vision you see the gentle look of utter concern presented on his features. You lean your forehead onto his chest, clutching the fabric of his tunic and breathing deeply to gather yourself in an attempt to preserve what remaining composure you still possess. He listens with patience while you murmur softly through trembling breaths of the day you had, not once freeing you from his arms as he offers words of comfort and understanding.

What is it about the prince that compels you to fall apart with little restraint? Did it have anything to do with the delicate way in which he handles you? How he takes hold of your hand and guides you to lay your head on a pillow as he prepares you tea with only the freshest of herbs? Perhaps it was how his arms cocoon you into a nestled entanglement, kissing away the lone tear that slides down your cheek with hushed assurances. Maybe it was the way he spoke to you long after you are lulled to sleep, hands running up and downs your back in a slow caress while he whispers things of only love and support to you so you are reminded of his eternal devotion, even as you dream.

Holding On

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings Ship/Pairing: Haldir x Reader Trope: Best Friends to Lovers Note: Took advantage of the potentially invented elven tradition of gifting someone your most precious possession after your first kiss :D. Warnings: Angst/Miscommunication - damn you Haldir/Slight smut if you squint and zoom at the very end. Word count: 2 836 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

The gentle breeze brought a soft tune to your ears. Of course, he would be playing in the first hours of the night. What else could he do, before leaving for another long month of patrol? Certainly not seek you out. The bitter lingered.

Haldir was a dear and close friend of yours. He had drawn you in with his cheekiness and teasing words. You were lucky enough to know those sides of him, usually hidden. Unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of those same unruly sides, sometimes. It felt harder and harder with each joust of words to stop the ones you wanted to say from blurting out of your mouth. Today was about fixing that. Upon walking the narrow path, your eyes met his silhouette before he could see you. The length of his hair covered his face. His bow and arrows were left in the grass, carefully propped against a branch. His head rose, and he finally saw you. A flutter of wings came to life in your stomach. He smiled at you.

“What are you doing out this early, melon?”

You had no good answer for that. Knowing he was leaving was one thing. Seeing him do so, even in your dreams, was another. Every departure was a torment for you.

Your lips curled sadly with your next words.

“Why did you not say goodbye, Haldir?”

The underlying harshness of your tone startled him. He paled, his eyes growing wide. He did not expect that. Not from you. You who were gentle and kind. Soft-spoken and careful in all manners of life. He never wanted to disappoint you. Nor hurt you. After your first encounter, he knew very quickly your presence could never be replaced by anyone else. When he identified those feelings as more than friendship, he snuffed them out. The mere thought of losing you because of them was unbearable. Deep down, he knew you would not leave him so. Yet, he feared it all the same and kept himself quiet.

“I thought I did. What is happening to you?”

A heavy sigh. Again, your emotions had got the better of you. The loneliness he left behind was a most cruel sentiment to have. Or to hold on to. His hands had stopped playing, and he laid the instrument next to him.

“I am sorry. I fear my future loneliness at your departure is haunting me in advance.”

Haldir chuckled weakly. You always did have a way with words. Even more so since becoming a script here in the palace. Where he was the one leaving, you were always the one staying. It tore his heart in two to see you afflicted so. The Marchwarden did not know what to do to alleviate the sadness in your eyes. You stepped forward until he had to raise his head to look at you. Soon, you sat down in front of him. An itch went through him from his fingertips to his shoulder blade; how he wanted to touch you right now…

“And you woke up this early because of it? Have I altered your sleeping by my rudeness? — Do not flatter yourself that much, Haldir.”

Finally, a smile had made its way onto your face. You reckoned that being mad at him was not your best skill. Unwavering, he stared at you expectantly, wishing you would answer and share your troubles with him, as you always did. This time proved harder than the other ones.

“I have made a decision.”

His eyebrows rose.

“What kind of decision? — About… us.”

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath shortened. He frowned even more, at a loss for words.

“We have been friends for a long and appreciable time. — Yes, we have. — Please do not interrupt me, it is already so hard to do…”

You bit on your lip, your courage leaving as water out of its bed. His stare became more present, his fingers tapping an invisible rhythm against the earth. Could this be it? Or had he been a fool this whole time?

“As a token of my appreciation, I want you to have this.”

Out of your hand, a piece of paper neatly folded — just as you knew how to. He had had those notes before. When you wanted to see him but could not fetch him yourself. Or when you wanted to say anything to him while he was on patrol. He took the piece of paper, seemingly heavier than the lasts. It seemed to contain something. Before he could pry it open, you stopped him.

“I also want you to wait until you are at your post.”

He looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“Humour me. — Oh, I will.”

You laughed with him this time, inclining your head on one side. He found it entirely too endearing.

“I will, I promise. — Thank you.”

The letter clutched in his hand, he found himself speechless again.

A loud sound announced his departure. A few of his comrades passed you by. They soon waited by the end of the path for him to follow.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

While saying the words, he grabbed what was his, placing your letter in an inside pocket close to his heart. You noticed. You smiled as brightly as you could.

“Safe travels, my friend.”

He smiled brightly back, always one to try to cheer you up. Before you could register what he had done, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. His steps were barely echoing around you anymore when you realised. The flutter in your stomach turned into a full storm.

*

The advanced post took them three whole days to reach. During those three days, Haldir could not help himself from touching and toying with the piece of paper you left him with. He was patient; you knew that. When it came to you, he could have waited another lifetime. Yet, this simple piece of paper and what it contained, almost weightless, made him more impatient and frustrated than the longest watch had ever done.

Finally, he reached his destination, and they relieved the others from their patrol. He waited the middle of the night to be alone and open the gift you had left him with. The paper unfolded easily enough. It almost toppled the thin ring left inside. The details were weaved around it, organised in rows of leaves and polished silver. It could not have belonged to you. The size was too big, and the ornaments were indicative of a skilled touch. He held the jewel in his palm for the longest time, almost losing track of what he was supposed to watch out for. Luckily, his brother had joined him and kept an extra eye out when he saw him entranced by what an object he could not see. Rúmil only hoped it would be a good thing. And made a mental note to ask about it later on.

On the paper, read the following.

“Dear friend,

I have known you for the longest time. I have cared for you for just as long. In truth, I have more than cared for you. My friendship was soon turned into affections and my affections turned into love. True unbearable, unbreakable love. This seems sudden, I know, and if you do not feel the same, I wish you would forget all about this affair and we will go back to the way things were. I promise not to bring it up again. In my heart, I know that no matter what, I will always be by your side. I believe you know in our tradition, a first show of affection is to be rewarded by that which is most precious to us. With the ring, I hope to offer a payment in advance. You see, this belonged to my father. Before him, my grandfather and before him, my great grandfather. It has seen better times. I hope it will see better times. He passed it onto me, as his only child. It is my most precious and meaningful possession. I want you to have it, for if you feel the way I do, there is no other way forward but to spend the rest of my life with you.

You have known me to be meek, but when I am with you, I become brave. I want to be brave with you.

Again, if you do not wish for me in those ways, I will understand. That ring, nevertheless, shall always be yours, for I will never love anyone else.

With love, Your friend.”

Haldir’s breath stopped. The shock must have shown on his face, for the comrade next to him shook his shoulder in the hopes of waking him up from his reverie. A wide smile had spread across his face, his heart beating anew.

“Are you alright? — I am. Now go back to your posts, please.”

Never before had he said please when giving orders. They figured this letter must have broken his skull, for he spent the rest of the month whistling and daydreaming, spending more time alone than with them. The oldest knew. The youngest were still asking questions. When they received no answers, they settled for quiet speculations.

None of them could have figured out what was happening in Haldir’s head the whole time.

*

You waited for an answer.

It never came.

Your days were spent writing and copying the history of your people, under a strict supervision. Celeborn would have no mistake be made, whereas Galadriel encouraged you in more positive ways. They were nervous, for those scrolls were to be sent to other countries for archiving. They were a testimony and inheritance of your people’s knowledge and myths. No room for errors.

Alas, you were distracted. On the first week, you were wondering if anything had happened to Haldir during his trip to his post. Then, news came that his group had safely arrived. The second week, you convinced yourself he did not return your attachment and cried yourself to sleep every night. It was cruel, but you had expected it. After all, he was a Marchwarden and you were a mere scribe. The third one, right before he was supposed to come back, you willed yourself to go back to the way it was. He was probably giving you the space to mourn and grieve for what would never be. You had to let things go, eventually.

On the day he did come back, Haldir made no specific announcement to you, nor did he arrive during daylight. Rúmil had warned him about showing up at this hour, himself having gone directly to bed. Of course, he did not listen to his brother. Especially when he was teasing him about the love-struck face, he had a hard time hiding, all the way back home. The first thing he did was seek you out. Despite his restlessness, the odd hour triumphed over him, and he could not find you anywhere. Straight away, he went to your room, which for this hour should not have been this cold, nor this lifeless. Your bed was undone, it was obvious you had trashed around in it, the sheets left in disarray. Your work clothes were scattered around the floor. The windows were open, a faint trace of flowers in the air. He did not recognise this to be you. His worry only grew when he found inks and quills, papers thrown about on the desk. All of them with his name, some angry, others drowned in tears. The library was empty, your usual meeting point by the pond too. No guard could tell him where you had gone. He almost snapped his bow under the pressure of his hands. A quick detour to his room and he dropped off his bags and weapon. It was his fault. All of it. Not knowing what you wanted him to do, he had tried to write letters, never sending them out. It was all his fault for not telling you, even in unwisely chosen words, how he truly felt. What an actual idiot he had been. Only then did he realise where you must have been and ran.

The scribes had all left their working space. And here you were, hunched over and scrapping paper after paper, in your usual measured manners. He halted his steps. From where he was, he could not see your face, nor your hands, yet he was sure they were covered in ink stains and sore from having been overused. His feet reached you rapidly. You were about to cry out when you turned around.

Haldir had been right. You were wearing a wrinkled nightdress, clinging onto your skin with the sweat, your eyes haggard, hands covered in small ink stains. You probably had touched your face too, for it had several spots of ink there too. One by your left eye, over your eyelid. Another on your cheek, spread in a wild sprawl. The last ones on both your temples, where you must have tried to erase a headache.

As well as tears. So much tears growing in your eyes dying on your lips, nesting in your throat, making your skin damp when he reached for your face. How could he had let this happen?

“Why are you here? — I love you.”

He figured that in the state you were in, brutality was the swiftest way of ripping this sadness away. He did not think far enough to predict the anger that would follow.

“And you’re only telling me now!”

You wanted to hit him. Badly. Even tried to slap him. If it were not for his stupid reflexes, you might have done so. He would have let you, if the need to embrace you had not been so overwhelming. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before securing his arms around you. You relented, too tired to fight with him. Without warning, he picked you up a hand under your knees and the other on your back. Your hands secured against his neck as he carried you out. Haldir did not bother looking out for onlookers. They would have no answer from him anyway, too focused as he was on seeing your face for the first time in a month. It was lucky this mission had been this short, otherwise… He did not want to imagine otherwise. Your room was the closest, and he reached it first, settling you in bed. You were the one to stop him. Those pleading eyes he could not resist, and a need to rest his bones close to the person he wanted to be with. He laid down with you, and you fell asleep safe and sound in his arms.

* The next morning, he woke up with a back pain, in the bed only made for one. You were nowhere in sight. He sighed. Maybe you had gone to wash and would come back soon. He waited a little while before deciding he probably had the time to wash and change too until you arrived. As he had been previously, he was wrong.

When you came back an hour later — the ink had washed away with difficulty and you needed clean clothes — your room was empty. No traces left behind. Frustration took root within you. Where could he be? Showing up in the middle of the night, no notes, no nothing announcing his return. Not directly from him, at least. You had hoped for a letter or a missive. Something, anything.

He did not have another mission yet, as far as you knew. The only logical places he could be were the bathhouse or his chambers. You chose the latter. You stomped into his bedroom with no warning.

“You did not say goodbye, Haldir.”

A chill ran down his spine. His undressed state did not seem to phase you. But then again, he thought he was the only one in love in this relationship and it had proved wrong. Deciding against his first instincts, he put a light shirt on and walked to you. You wanted to slap the smirk off of his face. Just as much as you wanted to take that shirt off of him right this instant.

“No, you did not this time. — I did not?! How… — Please…”

This time, he was the one pleading for mercy. You were looking precious, like this. A nymph or a divine being, freshly out of the water, droplets dragging against your skin. Haldir’s thumb touched your lips lightly, plump and warm against his fingertips. Your breath shortened, anger drowned by him. By his arm around your waist, by his breath fanning over your cheek, his hair caressing your collarbones, your throat, firm hands mapping your back. The fire within you could not be stopped this time.

“If you start this… — I know.”

His lips touched yours, and the world was ablaze. He brought your legs against his hips. You could feel his desire against your core. Never before had you willingly surrendered to your feelings like this.

You felt the edge of a silver ring you knew by heart around his finger. You bit your lips hard and kissed him again, even harder.

There was no letting go now.

Only holding on.

Leap of Faith

aka an Only One Bed headcanon with no context whatsoever

because this popped into my head and I wanted to be able to write and finish something for once god damn it. @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book this is for you 🥰

Legolas/Human Reader (gender-neutral)

Word count: 663

Rating: G

Read on AO3!

Legolas is instantly flustered at the sight of the single bed, his eyes darting between you and the pillows and back again. Despite himself, he’s half-contemplating diving out the window to freedom—but at the look on your face, he forces himself to take a shuddering breath.

You’re more than happy to share the bed, you reassure him: there’s plenty of room, and you’re a heavy sleeper, so he won’t disturb you. But he rejects the offer smoothly. Elves do not sleep like mortals, of course, and he need not lie down to find his rest as you do.

For the first time, he regrets it.

Legolas is a gentleman: he turns away quickly as you slip out of your traveling clothes and boots and slide under the covers, but the rustling of your garments and slide of fabric against your skin is so loud in the silence of the little bedroom, so intimate, that his heartbeat lurches in his chest. By the time he risks a glance back at you, you’re buried in blankets and pillows, looking more at peace than he’s ever seen you.

And now there is nothing to do but wait for dawn.

He pours water over the coals in the fireplace as your breathing evens out in sleep. He paces quietly. He sighs. Time slips by, and his eyes dart to you more and more often.

He’s curious. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Legolas has so rarely been around mortals, and the way they sleep is fascinating. You’re deeply, wholeheartedly asleep—no wide-open staring eyes, no mind still active and wandering, elf-like.  

He’s curious. Your chest rises and falls under the blankets, your breaths even, calm. In through the nose, with the slightest snore, then out through the mouth in a warm puff. He finds himself stepping closer to the bed, transfixed.

He’s curious. That’s all. His elven eyes can make out the darting of your pupils beneath their lids, the slight parting of your lips. He leans closer, unconsciously. Perhaps you’re dreaming—and he hopes, with a sudden jolt, that you’re dreaming of him. And as though in answer, your lashes flutter restlessly, a single word escaping your parted lips: “Legolas.”

Oh, fine. He’s far more than just curious.  

Legolas is perched on the bed beside you before he is aware of it, his heart in his throat. Perhaps it meant nothing—very likely it meant nothing, for rarely was there sense to be found in mortal dreams. He should move away, and stop staring longingly at your sleeping form. You would hardly appreciate it if you knew.

Or would you? You had invited him to share the bed with you, after all.

Thoroughly defeated, Legolas slips under the covers to join you. Even in sleep, you’re enough to overpower him. And even in sleep, you turn toward him, clutching at his torso and pressing yourself close. His breath hitches.

Your hands clutch tight to his tunic as you nuzzle into his side, and Legolas curls against you, your legs tangling together. A shudder runs through his body.

He breathes in and out as evenly as he can, in imitation of you, and closes his eyes against the pillows, just as you did. Perhaps he can sleep as you do, just this once, so he can survive this overwhelming closeness. Keep his eyes shut tight and his mind closed off from the world, so he can outlast it.

It frightens him for a moment—the uncertainty of his tight-shut eyes, the lack of awareness of the wider world. How odd this mortal sleep is. It feels like a leap of faith. But your breath is warm and even against his neck, your hair soft as it splays against the exposed skin of his neck and collarbone, and his heartbeat slows, sleep—true sleep—stealing over him at last.  

This leap is an easy one to take, for he has faith in you utterly.  

Stranger in my house

Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.

WK-1.6k

Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.

A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.

[Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

You notice him one day.

  A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice. 

  That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out. 

  It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended. 

  He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend. 

  You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc. 

  You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.” 

  The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to. 

  You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go. 

  “Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response. 

  “Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.” 

  “Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.” 

  ****

  You notice one day

  You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie. 

  When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after. 

  You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift. 

  He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes. 

  You should thank her mate

  She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday 

  Well it’s technically not anymore is it? 

  He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it. 

  “I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun. 

  You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little. 

  “I know what you’re going to say…”

  He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break. 

  He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “Honey,look at me.” 

  His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face. 

  “Thank you, love.” 

  ****

  It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you. 

  You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.  

  “I thought you liked those?” 

  He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes. 

  You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter. 

  “Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass. 

  “Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet. 

  ****

He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed. 

  After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you. 

  “You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear. 

  “You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’

  “This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’

  He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers. 

  “Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both. 

  ****

  You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar. 

  “I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.” Jake 

  It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up. 

  Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.” 

  He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets. 

  “I know.” 

  They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house. 

@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Dejeme ver-Let me see

Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there

Asi- just like that

Es mejor- that’s better