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hd-junglebook · 2 days

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Does He Know

Part 2

Word Count - 3023

The bedroom was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the nightstand and the distant hum of traffic outside the window. The once-comforting space now felt cold and unfamiliar, as if the revelation of Vince's cheating had tainted every corner of their shared life.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped and her head bowed, the revelation of Vince's betrayal pressing down on her like a physical force. The hotel receipt lay crumpled in her hand even days after the discovery, the damning evidence of his infidelity a tangible reminder of the shattered trust between them.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, the tracks of her tears still glistening on her cheeks. Her normally vibrant face was pale and drawn, the light in her eyes dimmed by the pain and confusion swirling in her heart. She stared blankly at the floor, the plush carpet blurring before her as fresh tears welled up, obscuring her vision.

Vince stood in the doorway, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched in a posture of guilt and remorse. He watched Y/N, his heart aching at the sight of her so broken and lost. The urge to go to her, to wrap her in his arms and beg for forgiveness, was overwhelming, but he hesitated, unsure if his touch would be welcome.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, talk to me. It’s been a week and you haven’t said a word. I ended things with her, I want to put you first. We can work through this. You know I love you."

Y/N's head snapped up, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and anguish. "You love me?" she repeated, her voice raw and trembling. "How do we work through the fact that you betrayed me, that you broke our vows, that you..." her voice broke, a sob tearing from her throat. "How could you do this to me, to us? You told me you wanted to have a family and the next day you go and cheat."

Vince took a tentative step into the room, his hand outstretched in a gesture of supplication. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "It was a mistake, a moment of weakness. I was feeling insecure and went out to find something to fix it. It didn't mean anything more than that, I swear."

Y/N shook her head, a mirthless laugh escaping her lips. "It meant something to me," she said, her voice barely audible. "It meant everything to me. Our marriage, our love, our future... it was all a lie."

Vince crossed the room in two quick strides, dropping to his knees before her, his hands reaching for hers. Y/N flinched at his touch, pulling away, the hotel receipt fluttering to the floor between them. The sight of it, lying there like a boundary, a divide, was too much for Vince to bear.

"Please," he begged, his voice thick with tears. "Don't give up on us. I know I hurt you, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, but please, don't let this be the end."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his face, looking for some glimmer of the man she had loved, the man she had trusted with her heart. But all she saw was a stranger, a man capable of deceit and betrayal. The pain in her chest intensified, a physical ache that took her breath away.

"I don't know if you deserve that," she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. "I don't know if I can ever trust you again. I don’t want to trust that."

Vince's shoulders slumped, the weight of her words hitting him like a physical blow. He bowed his head, tears dripping onto the carpet. Y/N watched him, her own heart breaking, torn between the love she still felt for him and the unbearable pain of his betrayal.

…

Y/N sat at her desk, staring blankly at the computer screen in front of her. The cursor blinked mockingly, the empty document a reflection of the emptiness she felt inside. Her eyes drifted to the small slip of paper tucked beneath a stack of files, the edges peeking out invitingly. Jack's number. She had taken it on a whim at their last family gathering, not really intending to use it, but now...

Before she could second-guess herself, Y/N reached for the paper, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed the number into her phone. She held her breath as it rang once, twice, three times.

"Hello?" Jack's voice was slightly breathless, as if he had been in the middle of something.

"Jack? It's Y/N. I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" Y/N bit her lip, suddenly unsure of herself.

"Y/N! No, no, it's fine. I just got out of practice, that's all. What's up?" Jack's tone was warm, friendly, and Y/N felt herself slightly relaxing.

"I was just wondering if you might want to grab a coffee later? I could use a friendly face and some good conversation." Y/N held her breath, waiting for his response.

"How could I possibly refuse coffee with such a beautiful woman?" Jack's voice was playful, teasing, and Y/N found herself laughing despite herself. She didn’t even remember the last time Vince called her beautiful or anything romantic at all for that matter.

"Great. How about that little place on Main Street, say around 4?" she asked.

"It's a date then. I'll see you there." With a click, the line went dead, and Y/N found herself smiling, a flutter of excitement in her stomach. The sound of the office door opening startled her, and she looked up to see Vince standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, his tone slightly accusatory.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before answering. "A family friend, Jack. We're going to grab coffee later."

Vince's face darkened, his jaw clenching. "Really, Y/N? You're going to start hanging out with other guys now? I thought we were supposed to be working on our marriage, not complicating things further."

Y/N felt a spark of anger flare in her chest. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Vince when I’m not even sure I wanna be with you. You're the one who complicated our marriage by sleeping with someone else for four months. I'm just trying to find a little bit of independence outside of you and support where I can."

Vince ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I hurt you. But you trying to get even with me is not allowed. I'm trying to be there for you. Running off with some other guy who just wants to sleep with you isn't going to solve anything."

Y/N stood up, her hands clenched at her sides. "I'm not running off with anyone, Vince. I'm having coffee with a friend. And frankly, I don't think you have any right to tell me who I can and can't spend time with, not after what you did. I will continue doing whatever the hell I want."

Vince opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N cut him off. "I can't do this with you right now, Vince. I need some space, far, far away from you. And I need to know that I have people in my life who I can count on, who I can trust. Right now, that's not you."

She grabbed her phone and pushed past him, ignoring the stricken look on his face. As she walked out of the office, she felt a sense of lightness, of freedom. She knew that her problems with Vince were far from over, that they had a long way to go if they were ever going to rebuild what they had lost.

…

They settled into the plush, worn leather armchairs, the rich burgundy color a warm contrast to the pale green walls of the cozy coffee shop. The late afternoon sun streamed through the large picture window, casting a golden glow over the polished wooden tabletops and the colorful artwork that adorned the walls.

Across from her, Jack leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the back, his long legs stretched out beneath the table. He was dressed in a fitted navy blue henley that accentuated his broad shoulders and a pair of dark wash jeans that hugged his lean hips.

The gentle hum of conversation and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine created a soothing ambiance, a welcome respite from the chaos of her personal life. "So there I was, standing in the middle of the pet store, covered in dog food, and this little old lady comes up to me and says, 'Young man, I think you've got something on your shirt.'" Jack's voice was rich and warm, with a hint of mischief that made Y/N smile despite herself.

She laughed, the sound bright and genuine, and she felt some of the tension that had been coiled tight in her chest start to loosen. It felt good to laugh, to forget about her troubles for a moment and just enjoy the company of a friend.

Y/N cradled her mug of steaming hazelnut latte in both hands, the heat seeping into her skin and the rich, nutty aroma filling her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent, before taking a small sip. The creamy, slightly sweet liquid coated her tongue, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the flavor and the warmth wash over her.

When she opened them again, she found Jack watching her, his gaze intense and focused. He had one elbow propped on the table, his chin resting on his hand, and he was leaning forward slightly, as if drawn to her.

"You know, Y/N," he said softly, his voice low and intimate, “He doesn’t know how lucky he is does he? To be married to someone so gorgeous and interesting as you. He must always let you down, he probably doesn’t even buy you flowers or cook dinner. you're handling it with such grace and resilience."

Y/N felt a flush creep up her neck at his words, and she glanced down at her mug, suddenly shy. "that’s what happens when men aren’t in love with you anymore," she murmured, tracing the rim of the cup with her finger. "And I’m not handling it gracefully at all. Most days, I feel like I'm barely keeping it together."

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," Jack said, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. "And you don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, whenever you need me."

Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. There was something in Jack's gaze, in his touch, that made her feel seen, understood in a way she hadn't experienced in a long time. It was both thrilling and terrifying, and she found herself leaning closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"Thank you, Jack," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat. "That means more to me than you know." Jack smiled, a slow, warm curve of his lips that made Y/N's stomach flip.

They sat there for a moment, lost in each other's gaze, the rest of the world fading away until it was just the two of them, connected by a thread of understanding and attraction that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

Finally, Y/N pulled her hand away, breaking the spell. She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of the other patrons in the coffee shop, the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation rushing back in. "We should probably find somewhere more quiet," she said, glancing at her watch. "It’s getting crowded in here."

As they left the coffee shop, Jack suggested a walk along the nearby beach. Y/N readily agreed, eager to feel the salty breeze on her face and the sand beneath her feet. They strolled along the shore, their shoulders brushing occasionally, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks a soothing rhythm.

Y/N found herself opening up to Jack in a way she hadn't with anyone else, not even Vince. She told him about the struggles in her marriage, the doubts and insecurities that had plagued her even before Vince's betrayal. Jack listened intently, his brow furrowed in concern, his hand occasionally reaching out to give hers a comforting squeeze.

The sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, they settled down on the sand, side by side, watching the stars slowly emerge in the darkening sky. Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over her, a feeling she hadn't experienced in longer than she could remember.

She glanced over at Jack, only to find him already staring at her, his gaze intense and filled with an emotion she couldn't quite name. Y/N's heart skipped a beat, a flutter of something dangerous and exciting stirring in her chest.

"You know," Jack said softly, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves, "Vince is a fool for not realizing what he had in you. You deserve so much better, Y/N. You deserve someone who will cherish you, who will put you first, always."

Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She knew she should pull away, should put some distance between them, but she found herself leaning closer, drawn in by the magnetism of Jack's presence.

"And who might that someone be?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jack's hand was warm and slightly rough against Y/N's cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine. His thumb traced the delicate curve of her cheekbone, the gesture intimate and possessive. Y/N's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she leaned into his touch. “I think you know," he murmured, his eyes darkening with desire.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew this was wrong, knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but in that moment, with the stars shining above them and Jack's touch setting her skin on fire, she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"Are you happy with him?" Jack asked, his voice low and husky. "I can do so much more for you than just make you happy."

Y/N shuddered at his words, a heat blooming in her core. She knew she should pull away, should put some distance between them, but she found herself drawn to Jack like a moth to a flame. His presence was intoxicating, his gaze hypnotic, and she felt herself falling under his spell.

"I..." Y/N's voice trailed off, her thoughts scattered and jumbled. She couldn't think straight, not with Jack's hand on her face and his body so close to hers. "I don't know anymore. Things with Vince are so complicated, so broken. I don't know if we can ever go back to the way things were."

Jack leaned in closer, his lips just inches from hers. "Then don't go back," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Move forward. With me."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, a thrill of excitement and fear running through her. She knew that what Jack was offering was dangerous, that it could destroy what little was left of her marriage. But there was a part of her, a part that had been buried for so long, that yearned for the passion and excitement that Jack promised.

"Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't. I'm still married. I made vows."

Jack's hand slid down to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. "Vows that Vince already broke," he reminded her, his tone gentle but insistent. "You deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deserve to be with someone who will cherish you, who will put you first."

Y/N's resolve wavered, her body responding to Jack's touch even as her mind screamed at her to stop. She knew that what he was saying made sense, that Vince had shattered their vows the moment he had slept with another woman. But still, she hesitated, torn between her desire for Jack and her sense of loyalty to her husband.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so confused, so lost."

Jack's other hand came up to cup her face, tilting her chin up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "Let me guide you," he murmured, his gaze intense and filled with promise. "Let me show you what it's like to be truly loved, truly desired."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing. She knew that she was standing on the edge of a precipice, that if she took this step, there would be no going back. But with Jack's hands on her skin and his words echoing in her ears, she found herself wanting to take that leap, to give in to the desire that had been building between them for weeks.

Slowly, tentatively, Y/N leaned in, her lips parting slightly. Jack met her halfway, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Y/N melted into him, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair as she pressed her body against his.

For a moment, the world fell away, and there was nothing but the two of them, lost in each other's embrace. Y/N knew that there would be consequences, that she would have to face the fallout of her actions. But in that moment, with Jack's lips on hers and his hands roaming her body, she couldn't bring herself to care.

All that mattered was the fire that Jack had ignited within her, the passion and desire that had been missing from her life for so long.

…

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ltcdrmcgarrett · 1 year

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It was dark down there, man. There’s no way you could have known. No, man. I messed up. Don’t do that. I didn’t have a visual. Steve, listen to me: It was an accident. The guy was trained, he should have identified himself as a cop — Lou. I didn’t have a visual.

#Hawaii Five-0 #h50edit #Steve McGarrett #Mine #mygifs #SIT DOWN AND HEAR ME OUT #I was SO excited about this storyline and I can't let it go #I'm kinda furious that they just 'oh nevermind'ed it in the same episode man #Imagine just imagine how incredible this could have been if it had been legit #Steve killed a police officer #The weight of that guilt is almost unbearable #He starts to distance himself from his friends because they desperately want to help justify it #but Steve won't hear of it #The blame is his and his alone as far as he can see it #A police officer is dead and it was Steve's bullet #A police officer's family and friends are mourning his loss and it was Steve's fault #not a terrorist or a robber or a murderer but Steve's #He can't sleep without seeing that cop's face so he barely sleeps #When Steve works a case he can't focus #He can't bear to be around HPD because he knows what they're thinking #He becomes trigger shy and unwilling to pull the trigger until he has a full visual #This puts his life in danger more than once and endangers his team #Once he spots a suspect before anyone else but freezes #The suspect shoots Junior #It's not fatal by any means but this just adds to Steve's guilt #He stops coming to work #He no longer trusts himself and refuses to put any more lives at risk because of his failings #*slams my fists on the desk* I WANTED TO SEE THIS #Ugh I'm mad there was so bloody much potential and I ache for it #8x07

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struniolos · 4 months

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guitar lessons.

chapter two: meddle about.

(you can read chapter one here!)

synopsis: you decided to take guitar lessons from your boyfriend nate’s best friend, chris, while he’s away at college. but one night, things go too far. loosely based off the song sex by the 1975.

warnings: smut! minors do not interact.

“what did you yesterday baby?” nate’s voice hums through the phone, as you cuddle up into your bedsheets.

you rambled to him about everything, how you’d gone to buy a gingerbread house to make with your friends, how you bought a new coat, everything other than what was gnawing at you. chris. you tried your best to act as you usually did, but made an effort to bounce the questions back to him so you didn’t have to talk about yourself.

“so, when are you coming to visit me?” you said, biting your lips.

“i’ve got to study for finals next week, so i’m probably not for another two weeks.” nate told you, making your heart sink.

the less you saw him, the more you felt yourself drifting away from him. it was a gut wrenchingly awful feeling, guilt bubbling beneath the surface of your body. in everything you did, you felt it.

you sighed into the speaker. “i miss you.”

“i miss you too, baby.” nate told you. “well, i’ve got training in the morning so i should go, but we’ll talk soon. i love you.”

“i love you too.” you said quietly, holding your face in your hands.

as the phone call came to an end, you found yourself curled in a ball under the covers. it was almost 8pm, when you agreed to meet with chris. but your heart was telling you not to go, that this was an awful idea. because it was, you had just told your boyfriend how you loved him moments before meeting up with his best friend. you decided to message chris.

you: i’m not coming, i’m sorry.

he typed back instantly.

chris: why? we can just chill :(

you: it’s too cold. i just want to stay in bed.

you try and weasel your way out of the gate you’ve opened, to step back as if you weren’t the one also engaging in this.

chris: what if i came to pick you up?

you bit your lips, sighing.

you: fine.

about an hour later, you look out your bedroom window to see the familiar black van out the front of your house, it’s headlights illuminating the icy road thats caked in snow at the curb. you grab your hoodie and put on your slippers, sneaking down the staircase to not disturb your parents as they would know damn well it wasn’t nate.

you tiptoed your way out the front door, walking the snowy path towards the van. chris had already reached over to open the door for you, and you felt yourself getting flustered. you jumped into the van, closing the door firmly behind you and looking over at chris, his hair dark and loose, his silver necklace stark against his black crewneck.

“hey.” he smiled, putting the car into drive.

“hey.” you said shyly, biting your cheek. “so, where are we going?”

“you’ll see.” chris shrugged, with one the hand on the wheel and the other propped up against the window.

you felt an unbearable weight on your chest, something urging you to stop. to tell him to turn around and take you home. but there was something about him, something that you couldn’t fight. nate was the safe option, you knew that, but chris- chris was dangerous.

the radio was on quietly, the hum of the engine and icy roads filling your ears. you both didn’t speak for the rest of the drive, in complete silence within each other’s company. you wondered if chris was thinking about nate, or if he was selfishly wanting you all to himself.

eventually, you were parked at a lookout spot at the hilled part of the neighbourhood, looking out to the thousands of houses below only specks of yellow light against the darkness. you were shielded by woods, away from prying eyes.

chris parked the car, pulling the handbreak and leaning back in his chair. he looked over at you, his eyes dark.

“i don’t know what i’m doing, chris.” you said softly, breaking the silence. “i shouldn’t be here.”

“but you came.” he opposed, rubbing his face- his chain bracelet falling down his veined arm. you found yourself eyeing his fingers too, long and slender, the dimmed light carving out his features.

chris was the one to make the first move, shifting his hand to your thigh as he held eye contact with you. “why did you leave yesterday?”

“because it’s wrong and we shouldn’t be…i shouldn’t be doing this.” you said with pleading eyes.

chris continued rubbing your thigh. you don’t stop him. he leaned over to grab your face with his other hand, his finger tracing your warm cheek and lips, his thumb prying your mouth open.

“after you left, did you go home and touch yourself thinking about me?” he murmured, looking at you though hooded eyelids.

you hated how much you loved this, how much you revelled in his forbidden touch. you knew he wanted you to suck on his fingers but you didn’t, simply kissing the pad of his thumb. “no.”

“hmm.” he hummed, grabbing your cheeks with one hand, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he squeezed them together to pout your mouth. “i did.”

you clenched your thighs together, as he kissed you deep. you moaned into his mouth, as his tongue came to lick into yours. it was messy, all teeth and tongue. you never did this with nate, it was always so straightforward. you guessed this was why chris was so enticing- he was everything nate wasn’t.

“come over here.” he whispered, grabbing your hips to help you. he pushed the seat backwards to give you both more space, as you settled yourself on his lap, straddling him.

you rubbed your palms down his shirt, breathing heavily. “what happened to teaching me guitar?

“i’m teaching you something else.” he smirked, kissing you again, this time slower.

you pulled away briefly. “and what would that be?”

“how to feel good.” he flirted, kissing the corner of your mouth, his hands greedy as he squeezed your hips and groped your behind.

“my boyfriend makes me feel just fine.” you told him, trying to elicit a reaction.

but chris didn’t react, instead looking you directly in the eyes as he tilted his head as he dipped a hand below your sweatpants. “if he did, why did you come to me?”

your lips fall apart as he began to rub circles through your panties, your sensitive bundle of nerves pulsating at his touch. your lips found each other, tongues dancing and hot air spilling from your nose as your breathing picked up. he moved your underwear to the side, his fingers collecting your slick.

“i dreamed about this.” chris told you, as he began to push his ring finger inside your velvet walls.

“you did?” you breathed, bracing your hands on his shoulders.

he kissed your cheek sloppily. “mhm, about how good you’d feel.”

you moaned at the feeling of his finger fully seated inside you. fuck, it had been so long. chris pumped his finger in and out of you a few times before adding another, your vision blurring and body heating up.

“c’mon pretty girl.” he urged you, as his fingers curled and beckoned you towards your orgasm.

you moaned raggedly into his mouth, your hips starting to grind up and down. the feeling of his lips on yours, his hand on the small of your back guiding you as he fingered you deep sent you over the edge embarrassingly quickly. you moaned and squirmed in his lap, a complete mess. he coerced your release through small praises and kisses, holding you close to his chest. chris brought his fingers to his mouth to suck clean, locking eyes with you- it was lewd, but ridiculously hot.

“i want to be inside you.” chris confessed, his lips attaching to your neck to suck bruises into your skin.

“chris.” you protested, but he continued to assault your neck, his other hand coming to cup your ass, moulding it against his hand.

“i can take care of you better than him.” he uttered, now squeezing your breasts with both hands, kneading and palming them.

you felt your pussy flutter, your core coming in contact with his hardness. you ground down onto him, the friction euphoric. “show me.”

between kisses and whispers, chris assisted you in ridding yourself of your hoodie, and pulling your sweatpants off. he tossed them into the backseat, as well as tossing his crewneck and tshirt off and shimmying down his own sweatpants, so they sat at his thighs. you continued to grind yourself down on his hardness, both of you moaning and breathing heavily at the feeling.

you couldn’t do this to nate, this would completely change things. this would break you. you knew if you continued, that there was no going back. but it just felt so good.

chris kissed the valleys of your breasts, pulling your bra down so it hung at your hips, as he continued to suckle on each one, toying with the other with his free hand. you moaned heavily, the feeling of his warm mouth and breath on you too much. chris pulled away with a wet pop, leaving your nipples peaked and wet.

“i want you to spit on my cock before i fuck you.” he instructed, and you did as you were told.

you pulled down his boxers to let his weeping cock spring free, letting it slap against his stomach. you licked your lips, as you held it in your hands, the warm weight of it enough to send you over the edge. he was definitely bigger than nate, girthier too- you knew it was going to hurt. you spit on your hand, before coating it all over his cock like lube. chris threw his head back, groaning and bucking his hips up into your hand.

chris stopped you, placing his palm on your chest. he sat himself upright, as you hovered your hips above him. he pushed your soaked panties to the side once more, rubbing the red tip of his cock against your opening. you both indulged in the feeling, pushing your lips together and your breath mingling as one.

“want me to fuck you, pretty girl?” he growled.

“please.” you pleaded, feverishly kissing him.

“you think i can fuck you better than your boyfriend?” he dares, licking behind your ear and continuing to rub the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

you shudder, biting your lips to you conceal your answer as your pussy throbs. yes, you think to yourself.

chris grabs your hips, leaving crescent moons in your flesh from his nails as he guides you. you let out an embarrassing desperate moan as you sink yourself down onto him, seated perfectly in his lap. he’s only halfway in, and the stretch is much more than you’re used to. or maybe because it had been so long? was it because he was bigger than nate? your mind buzzed with thoughts. thoughts of your boyfriend. here you where, with his best friends dick inside of you- and it turned you on much more than you’d admit to yourself.

chris kissed you sloppily as he helped you seat yourself completely on him, your pussy swallowing him whole. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. you felt so full, so content. you hadn’t felt this...ever.

without much time to adjust to his size, chris began thrusting his hips up into you, filling you to the hilt. you gasped and grappled onto him, anywhere you could, his hair, his shoulders, the car seat behind him. he was relentless.

“i’ve wanted to do this for months.” he whispered, grabbing a fist full of your hair and using it to pull your head back, giving him full access to your neck and chest.

all you could do was moan in response, as his hips snapped up into you at a reckless pace. he licked up your throat, and dipped his fingers into your mouth. you gagged on them, saliva dripping down your chin. it was filthy and messy and so fucking hot. you had never experienced anything like it.

“do i fuck you better than your boyfriend? huh?” he growled, as you began to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing your release.

“mhm” you muffled, his fingers dropping from your mouth.

“what was that?” he taunted, a devilish smile daunting over him.

you almost felt like you were going to split in half with the pace and force he was fucking into you. tears were almost pricking your eyes, everything just felt so good.

“yes, yes chris.” you cried, a blubbering mess as he grabbed your hips tighter to pound into you.

you grabbed his face with both hands, kissing him full of tongue and saliva. everything was becoming blurred, your thoughts of nate a distant memory as you felt your orgasm building in your stomach. your toes began to curl, your face contorting and a high pitched squeal -you didn’t know you were capable of- coming from within you.

“fuck oh my god!” you shuddered, your body beginning to convulse and shake around him, clutching onto his sweaty body tighter.

you felt your release come quicker than you’d have liked, with chris’ thrusts becoming more languid as he helped you ride out your high. his hair was stuck to his forehead, his cheeks and chest flushed red. his eyebrows knit together and lips parted as he followed close behind you, shooting his hot juices into you. you let your forehead fall to his shoulder, breathing heavily and your body shuddering.

you both sat for a while, catching your breath, with chris still deep inside you. you raised your head, looking at him with saddened eyes, pushing his hair from his face.

chris pouted at you, scrunching his nose. “what?”

“i cant believe we did that. that…that shouldn’t have happened.” you tell him softly, as the weight of the situation finally sunk in.

you had cheated on nate.

“he won’t know.” chris assured you, rubbing slow circles on your bare back.

you shook your head. “but what if he finds out.“

“he won’t.” chris said firmly, looking at you with a seriousness you weren’t used to. “same time tomorrow?”

you rubbed your forehead, looking at the man before you. he was gorgeous, all fucked out and blissful, lips kissed and hair mussed. how could you say no?

“okay.”

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#sorry this took so long #it’s been a hell of a week #anyway i’m not very happy w this but thought i’d post it anyway #lmk if u guys want another part!#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo x you #guitar lessons

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dreaming-tonite · 8 months

Text

All That There Is

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warning: innocent!virgin!reader, lil bit of nsfw above cut scroll very quickly if you don't wanna see, he has issues he needs to work on but we'll give him a pass, slight corruption kink, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, "just the tip", unrealistic first time but who cares it's porn

Word count: 2k

Jason Todd wanted to be a good man for you, he really did.

If it wasn't for you, it would be hard for him to believe anyone could be so sheltered in Gotham of all places. Wide-eyed with wonder as if the crime and chaos of the streets never managed to taint you.

He loved your innocence, the way you batted your lashes at him and looked away sheepishly when he got close to your side. In anyone else, he could spit venom about the ivory tower that allowed them to be ignorant of the true dangers of the world, of all the suffering their peace was built on. But he could not fathom the thought of seeing the light in your eyes crumble, not when you looked at him with such awe. In your loving gaze, he found an escape from the harsh reality of what he was, who he had been and the weight that followed him in his chest of all he had lost.

A faint voice in his head reminded him always that the idolization could turn to fear and disgust in the blink of an eye if you truly knew the things he had done. So he always managed to be the best version of himself he had never known, to stay acting like the gentleman that you deserved and believed he was.

But you had really been testing his limits lately, with your feet rubbing against his under the table when all he wanted was to be nice and wine and dine you; or the way you pressed your chest against his arm while he walked you home, not knowing that it was a battle between his rationale and primal instincts every time he stopped at your doorsteps.

He was starting to think that you never wanted a knight. How childish you were, did you truly know nothing? You thought you could handle it, that you wanted him to lose control when you had no idea that he was trying his damn hardest to protect you from what you didn't know.

And it terrified him, the images that he was able to conjure up when the aching hardness of his cock straining against his jeans became too unbearable. Oh, he just knew you would not be able to take it if he showed you what would happen to good little girls like you if you put up that act with anyone less chivalrous than he was. He could only imagine the distaste you would hold if you heard how near animalistic his grunts were when he fisted himself feverishly at the thought of your tear-stained face begging for him to stop. He was disgusted by how the thought of ripping your innocence away sent him over the edge, the warmth of his own release almost chilling when the guilt finally dawned on him.

You made him feel like a good man and he would make sure nothing could take that feeling away, even if it meant punishing himself for all the things he wanted to do to you.

He wanted to be good for you so badly and you must trust him when he said he tried.

So how could you just offer yourself to him so easily as if all his restraint was nothing but a joke?

"I want you to be my first," your sweet voice rang in his ear like a siren going off as you took his hand in your much smaller ones and put it at the hem of your shirt, "I want you to make me yours."

Jason swallowed the acid that welled up in his mouth, the thought of marking you all over eliciting a spark through his veins.

Something in him broke when he felt your supple skin under the calloused pad of his fingers as you guided him to ride your shirt up.

"Please?"

Then it was all white in his head as all the pent up frustration and desire unleashed all at once. He could not find the strength in him to be gentle when he pushed you down onto your plush mattress, the small gasp you let out when the back of your knee hit your bed frame making him wild at the thought of all the noises he could draw out of you by the end of the night.

Still, you were so good for him, so clumsy and sweet when you tried to kiss him back amid the messy tangling of tongues. You barely even knew how to breathe properly when his mouth was on yours, poor thing, even though he had been slow with you every time he tried to teach you. You made the sweetest mewls and whimpers as he dragged his chapped lips lower and lower, gripping onto his shoulders for leverage while he licked and bit his way down your neck and onto the hardened peaks of your breasts.

There was already a sticky mess clinging to his skin by the time his erection sprung free and he could see the bob in your throat when he fisted himself, the bulging vein at the underside of his shaft looking nothing short of intimidating.

He came to his senses when he kneeled in front of you and you let him push your legs apart by the knee.

You still didn't know that he was so close to ruining you, he thought to himself when you shuddered at the strange sensation of his index finger tracing the folds of your cunt, wetness gushing out when he brushed past your clit. You were at his mercy and there was no way your tiny body would fit all of him. Your pussy fluttered in anticipation when his finger was replaced by the leaking head of his fat cock, the bead of pre mixed together with your own arousal to leave an obscene sheen.

Just the tip, he told himself, it's not sex if it's just the tip.

It was a devastating feeling to know that he had made a mistake, that he was not nearly as good and virtuous as the man he wanted to be, but he knew that he was not above the rogues he wanted to protect you against when he pushed into you and realised he could not make himself stop.

You dug your nails into the blade of his shoulders, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes when he sunk into your tight walls, the hot tip dragging against your spongy insides as shallow bucks turned into a long, hard thrust until he finally hilted in you. Jason buried his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of your cunt sucking him in making his breath hitched at the back of his throat. Well-trained muscles caged you between his arms as he held you tight, your toes curling and feet arching as you struggled to wrap your head around just how stretched and full you felt.

Your Jason was always so gentle, held your hand like he was afraid you would break and never stepped one foot too close to your door even though you had begged for him to just stay.

But this Jason, this Jason that was kissing your tears dry while he slammed his pelvis against your ass was nothing like the careful man you knew.

You had touched yourself before, but your fingers felt like nothing in comparison to his girth, the high-pitched whimper that left your own throat making your face burnt when the dull ache fizzled out and became a foreign sensation you had never felt before. The tingling waves made your vision pale and your body did not feel like your own as your walls spasmed around him in a way you never knew you could. It was overwhelming and it would have been scary if you had time to process it, but he was so rough, pounding into you in such a bruising force that was sure to leave the feeling of him ghosting in you for days even when he was gone that all you could do was babble his name like a mantra pathetically.

He felt sick at how he only felt harder when he licked at your tears of pain and the saltiness spread in his mouth. He should have stopped when he felt the signs of your orgasm, your voice growing coarser by the second from the broken moans and the tightness almost making him combust. It was your first time and he should not push it too far or else he might scare you, and you might finally leave him for good. But he was not thinking straight, had not been since the first time you whimpered his name while he was fucking you like an animal.

He was rambling at this point, embarrassing to say the least, of all the things that he never had the guts to say to you. "'m gonna fuck you so good you can never fuck anyone else," he gritted, the sound of skin against skin muffling the possessiveness in his voice, "gonna make sure you can never leave me now."

He wanted to laugh when you pulsed around him, that you seemed turned on by the thought of never being able to be satisfied by any other cock than his.

"Yeah? You want that?" breathy words followed each piston, "Want to be mine forever?"

You nodded almost too fast, his hand shoved under the small of your back and lifted your hips off the mattress. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he slammed you down onto his cock to join him mid-thrust and you could not ever imagine that he could go deeper than he did before.

"Gonna cum inside you, baby," the syllables slurred from the tip of his tongue as his thrusts got sloppier, "say it— say you want me to cum inside of your pretty pussy."

"Please—" you obliged, lips trembling and sore legs hooked around his waist weakly, "want you to cum inside of my pussy—"

Your voice echoing his filthy words made his abdomen tensed, words you would have never said coming out so easily just because you were too fucked out to think of anything but repeat what he said.

"Good girl—" A cry ripped from the back of his chest as his head fell back, the loose strands of his bangs sticking to his forehead in sweat, hard thrusts accentuating each word, "good. fucking. girl."

But most damning of all, he could not hear the incoherent words that slipped from his lips as he buried himself balls-deep in you and his thick load filled your insides.

"God— I love you. I love you I love you I love you—"

His jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching down until he came down from his high. Weight left his lungs when he pulled out of you and his cum gushed from your abused hole, your chest heaving and eyes fogged over as your sweat-covered body twitched from the overstimulation.

Jason panted, but the wash of clarity dawned on him in the form of impending guilt.

Oh lord, what had he done?

He was still nothing more than the monster he was afraid of turning into in the end.

He was prepared to brace whatever it was waiting for him behind your eyes when you mustered the strength to blink, half-lidded eyes looking around as you struggled to recollect yourself from what just happened.

But when you finally found him from the corner of your eye through the haziness, instead of fear or disgust, it was still the adorning gaze that he knew so well and Jason Todd thought he finally broke his own mind when he wanted to sob.

You extended your arms weakly for him to come hold you. He chuckled and you pouted, mistaking his attempt to brush off all the disturbing mushiness he felt as him laughing at you.

All his walls came crumbling down when you snuggled close to his side, proving him wrong after all.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut

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mcverse · 1 year

Note

hi!!!! i have a req for neteyam x na’vi reader with a “marriage of convenience” trope. where reader does genuinely try to make it work with neteyam, but after months of being shut down she stops trying after talking to kiri. neteyam has always treated reader as a duty to be fulfilled, but LOWKEY has feelings for her he keeps SUPPRESSSSEDDDDD. however, after one of readers good friends from another clan visits, neteyams jealousy gets hold of him. you could make the rest however you’d like, but happy ending please🫶🏽

Pairings: Neteyam x F! Na’vi! Reader

Type: One Shot

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Angst, Miscommunication, slight jealous, not proof read, edited to fix mess ups

Side Bar: You’re amazing for requesting this! Thank you!!!

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please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+, and although I can't monitor who reads my work, if you are not 18+ I advise that you do not engage in my page or stories.

Love, that elusive and mysterious emotion, has captivated you since you first heard about it. The concept of love is a feeling of warmth, passion, and a connection that's deeper than anything else, impossible to ignore. It's terrifying and exhilarating, often filled with moments of joy, uncertainty, and vulnerability.

But falling in love? That's a whole different story. It's like the world suddenly shifts into a whole new perspective. Colors are brighter, sounds are louder, and everything you didn't care about before suddenly becomes beautiful and captivating.

Your thoughts, your mind, your body - everything is consumed by the object of your affection. No amount of daydreaming or silly little creepy crawlers in your tummy could ever prepare you for finally being seen by them, for being loved by them.

It's tragic that not everyone has the luxury of falling in love for themselves. In many clans, people come together for the benefits of both parties. Love becomes an afterthought when situations arise, and it breaks your heart. It's almost like love becomes foreign to them, despite having found it on their own.

But to be forced into a relationship of convenience, not truly knowing the other person, is frightening and challenging. They're a stranger, and it feels so wrong to love them. It's like they weren't made for you, like Eywa didn't create them for you. And it hurts. It's a deep, stabbing pain in your chest that never truly goes away.

Why is it that anyone but you is allowed to love who they want?

The thought reverberates in your mind, a constant reminder of the burden you bear. Love, the very essence of Na’vi emotion, was supposed to be a choice, a right, not a privilege granted by duty. But there you are, trapped in a loveless relationship, forced into a union that you never wanted.

"It's your duty," they told you, as if that was supposed to make it easier. As if it was supposed to alleviate the guilt and the pain. "You will learn to love Neteyam, the chief of the Omaticaya Clan." It was always for the greater good, always about the needs of the clan. "This alliance will strengthen the Na'vi, it is the will of your father."

But what about your will? What about your heart? You didn't want to learn to love someone; it wasn't realistic, it was forced. The very idea of it was distressing, and it made you sick just thinking about it.

You knew, deep down, that it wasn't about how you felt, though.

It was clear as you saw your future mate leave your shared hut hurriedly, feeling the weight of the unspoken understanding between you. He was just as much a victim of this situation as you were, and it was obvious that love was an afterthought to him, just as it was to your people. You were just a means to an end, a pawn in a game that you never asked to play.

But you had to play along, no matter how unbearable it got. You sought him out against your better judgement, watching him like always from the distance at first. It was justified, your future mate was intimidating in both height and build. If he wanted to, he could break you easily, ridding you of existence due to your constant annoyance over the past few months.

When you finally work up the nerve, the training session have ended and you use that time approach him, fiddling with the small basket of Yovo fruits, “Ma Neteyam,” you called out to him, grabbing his attention immediately.

He tenses up, his face hardening as he motions with his head for the last young warrior to leave before giving his attention back to you, “Ma [Name], what are you doing here?” He asked, eyes flickering to the basket. His hands twitched by his side but remained there.

“I knew you would be training hard, Neteyam, so I thought I'd bring you a treat," you said, smiling up at him. You cringed inwardly at how needy you must look, reminding yourself why you had to get along with him.

Neteyam's lips formed a tight line, and his forehead creased as if he were pondering something difficult. Finally, he bowed his head to you. "That's kind of you," he said, his eyes drifting off to the side. "But I don't want any. Perhaps the trainees would?"

You could tell he was playing the nice card, as he always did. What he really meant was, "I don't want anything from you." Your ears flattened against your head in disappointment, and you lowered the basket.

"Of course," you said, trying to hide your disappointment. "What a great idea. Do you mind giving it to them then?" You raised the basket, suddenly feeling the weight of it more heavily than before, and offered it to him.

As Neteyam took the basket from you, you couldn't help but feel a small spark of hope. Maybe this time would be different. But as his fingers brushed yours, you felt him pull away as if your touch was toxic. His reaction stung, but you tried to hide it as he turned away from you.

"Of course," he muttered, barely looking at you.

You couldn't stand how he was treating you. It seemed like no matter how hard you tried, he was always shutting you out. You couldn't help but wonder if he was even trying to make this work.

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, you couldn't force him to love you, but on the other hand, you couldn't bear the thought of being alone if he doesn’t come around. The fact that this was all just for the benefit of your clans didn't make it any easier.

You tried to salvage the conversation, “Will I see you for dinner?” You tried again to make the effort, only to be shot down immediately, no hesitation whatsoever.

“I have patrols. Don’t wait up.” He left soon after, leaving you frustrated and hopeless. Nothing you ever do is reaching him, was he made out of actual rock?

It's annoying how one-sided everything feels.

You always initiate contact, never the other way around. You bring him gifts, participate in his customs and traditions, and cook for him, only to be met with silence or absence. And yet, you continue to do it all with a forced smile, hoping that one day he'll see your effort and reciprocate.

But the reality is, you don't know how much longer you can keep up this charade of a marriage. From the outside, it's a picture-perfect union, respected by all. But inside, you barely speak to each other and can't stand being in the same room together for more than a few minutes. It's like there's too much space, yet you feel suffocated at the same time.

You expressed how you felt later that day with Kiri, as you always do. She, along with her youngest brother, Lo’ak understood what it was like to feel different from her people—soon to be your people. So it felt right confiding in her, knowing she gets you when your future mate doesn’t make the effort to try.

Kiri sat next to you, intently fixing a necklace for one of the clanmates who had messed up. As she worked, she spoke softly, "That's unlike my brother, I don't understand why he's acting like this towards you." She gave you a sympathetic look before continuing, "I know it's frustrating, but give it some more time."

You couldn't help but let out a frustrated huff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "That's all I've been giving. When is enough time enough?" you asked, your voice tinged with annoyance. You knew you weren't exaggerating or imagining things.

Kiri paused her work, considering your words for a moment before offering a suggestion. "Perhaps you need to approach it differently. Focus on yourself, as he focuses on the village. Maybe then he'll realize that he should have been focused on you too."

You looked at her with surprise, not expecting such wise advice from her. As she placed the finished necklace on the low table, you smiled genuinely for once, feeling a glimmer of hope. This was the best advice she had ever given you, and you knew it was time to stop waiting for him to come to you and start putting your own feelings first.

After thanking Kiri and complimenting her handiwork, you left her hut feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The air felt fresher and lighter, as if the weight of your worries had been lifted off your shoulders.

From that moment on, you threw yourself back into your tsakarem training, determined to become a skilled and respected member of the Omaticaya clan. By immersing yourself in their culture and customs, you began to feel a deeper connection to both the people and the land.

This newfound sense of belonging also opened up new opportunities for you to assist with the day-to-day tasks of the tribe, and in return, they offered their guidance and support to help you adjust to your new way of life.

The perfect example would be currently, where you were in your hut crushing herbs that Tuk had brought you after hearing you asking about them. You were actually happy knowing Neteyam’s family were warming up to you. But Neteyam was still distant.

As you crushed the herb, you couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration and hurt. You had heard countless stories about the Omaticaya chief, Neteyam, and his unwavering loyalty and attentiveness to his people. Yet, when it came to you, his soon-to-be mate, he seemed to give you the cold shoulder.

You had tried to make him a priority in your life, but it seemed like he didn't feel the same way. Why did he get to act like he didn't want you while you had to pine after him? It didn't make sense to you, especially since you were in an arranged marriage for the sake of your clans' alliance.

As you were lost in thought, you were startled by the sound of your hut's entrance swooshing open. You looked up to see Aeknim, one of your close friends from your old home, smiling at you. "[Name], I was hoping you were here!" he exclaimed, taking a seat across the low table from you.

“Aeknim, what are you doing here?” You asked, curious about the goofy grin on his face. You haven’t seen him since you left, to come out of the blue must be important.

He chuckled, raising his head high, “I have found a worthy mate.” He proudly said, patting his chest with his right hand for a job well done.

You put down the pestle you were holding and clasped his hands in yours, "That's amazing news, my friend! Tell me all about her." As he shared the details of his new love, you couldn't help but feel happy for him.

Aeknim spent the afternoon telling you all about his new mate while you caught up on old times. You even forgot about your tsakarem training for the day, knowing that there were other healers in the village who could cover for you. One day wouldn’t hurt.

As night fell and it was time for Aeknim to depart, you walked him to the edge of the village to say goodbye. You ignored the curious glances from your fellow villagers as you hugged your friend tightly and bid him farewell, wishing him well on his journey and sending him off with some healing ointment in case he needed it.

When you approached your hut coming back, you noticed Neteyam standing in front of it, his expression inscrutable as he watched you approach with a predatory gaze. You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, wondering what had brought him here.

Without preamble, he demanded, "Who was that?"

Confused, you asked, "Who was who?"

Neteyam inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tensing as he closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they blazed with an intensity that made you take a step back. "The man you were walking around the village with," he said, his voice deeper than usual as he stepped closer to you. He bent his head, allowing a few braids to fall into his face. "That's who I'm talking about."

You recoiled at the sudden change in Neteyam's demeanor. The tension emanating from him was uncomfortable and you couldn't maintain eye contact with him any longer. As you tried to process his words, you looked away.

Aeknim was the man he was referring to, but you couldn't fathom why Neteyam was so bothered by you walking with him. You decided to meet his intense gaze again, but his eyes, usually a bright yellow, were darker and it made you shudder.

"Yes, Aeknim came to visit me," you confirmed, hoping to dispel any misunderstandings.

"He came to see you?" he repeated, furrowing his brow in confusion. He leaned back slightly and asked, "Why did he come to see you?"

You paused for a moment, caught off guard by his sudden interest in your life. You couldn't recall a time when Neteyam cared about what you did or who you spent time with, and it annoyed you that he was being so attentive now.

"Why does that matter to you?" you asked, your tone defensive as you tried to keep the frustration out of your voice. You noticed his tail swishing behind him aggressively, and it only served to make you more uneasy.

Neteyam didn’t like what he was hearing. No, he didn’t like what he was seeing. His mate was defending another male, it made him sick inside and angry… the only male you should be protecting is him.

"You are my mate--" he began, but you cut him off, your ears flattening against your head at his words. You could feel your own anger rising, a fierce determination filling you.

"Yet, I am not your mate yet," you corrected him, standing your ground. You had done nothing wrong, so where was this interrogation coming from? It was almost as if he had lost his mind.

Eywa help him.

Neteyam shook his head, his braids swaying with the movement. "Now and then, you are my mate!" he spat, his face scrunched up in disgust. "Who visits my mate late into the night is my concern. You are my concern."

“You have an interesting way of showing concern for your mate, especially over the last few months,” you retorted, holding back a scoff as you watched confusion flash across Neteyam's face.

“Did you forget? Because I certainly haven't,” you continued, your expression softening slightly as you finally allowed your exhaustion to show.

It had been a constant struggle trying to reach him, and now is the time you choose to feel vulnerable, “You've been distant while I've been trying to connect with you. Not cold, necessarily, but you might as well have been with your absence.”

Neteyam's face softened as realization dawned on him as you continued, “I had to learn how to live here from people other than you. Your family has been around more than you have.” You finished, waiting for a response, but he simply stood there, eyes lowered towards the ground.

This time your scoff freely at him, honestly disappointed. You thought this conversation was getting somewhere, somehow to a point where you can come to some sort of agreement but there he goes again avoiding you.

Having enough of him, you brush pass him to enter the hut, “Of course, you have nothing to say.” You expected him to leave after that, like he does every morning to get away from you but he enters behind you, his expression morphed into determination.

“I have nothing to say,” he started, standing in the doorway, despite his expression, his body betrayed him as he’s slightly hunched over and his ears a deep purple, “because I don’t know how else to act with the one who I’ve already fallen in love with, but haven’t fallen for me yet.”

His words catch you off guard, and you turn to face him fully, shoulders losing its tenseness, “What?” You can’t believe he just said that. He loves you?

“I’ve noticed you more than you noticed me. I know that your actions mean nothing to you, while if I returned them, it would mean everything to me.” He started walking towards you, “I know your feelings you display towards me are not genuine. I know you don’t want to mate with me. I know and still can’t help but fall.” He stops a feet away from you, eyes trailing over your face.

“How can I do those things knowing what it means to me, that you don’t see me like I see you.” He finished, looking you in the eyes. There they were, bright yellow, nothing like the other harsh color. He looked as you expectedly, gentle, yearning and vulnerable.

Your throat tightened with emotion as you gazed up at him. His confession was a shock, but a welcome one. It was as though a veil had been lifted, and you saw him in a new light. Perhaps you had been blind to his feelings, too caught up in your own concerns. Perhaps you had been the one in the wrong all along, insensitive to his emotions, and acting selfishly.

Looking at Neteyam now, you saw a man baring his soul to you. He was hoping for your acceptance and understanding, acknowledging his mistakes and making an effort to set them right. You saw him in a new light: gentle, kind, compassionate, and fierce - just as all the stories said.

How could you have missed this before?

"I had no idea," you said, your voice quivering with emotion as tears welled up in your eyes. "I was so focused on my own desires that I neglected to ask about your true feelings."

Neteyam shook his head, "It was my fault for not showing you how I truly felt. If I had, we wouldn't be in this position now."

You chuckled softly, tilting your head down as you brushed a stray hair behind your ear. "You're right about that," you said, reaching out to take his hand in yours. Bringing it to your chest, you looked up at him with a shy smile. "But it doesn't matter. I see you, Neteyam. All of you."

Neteyam's eyes lit up, a goofy grin spreading across his face. He looked so handsome and carefree, and you couldn't help but think that this was what had been holding him back all this time.

"I see you too, [Name]. I always have," he said, pulling you close to him. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

Maybe you can learn to love him, wholeheartedly and authentically.

Edit: Thank you for all the likes and reblogs! Means a lot ❤️ Helpful hint for reblogs, be sure to add # to be found

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New post : all my life I had to fight, Lo’ak x human! reader

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whore4abby · 6 months

Text

cookies 2; dbf!abby anderson

part 1

warnings; older!abby, smut - fingering (r!recieving), masturbating (reader), mdni

wc; 1.5k

secrets and side-eyes;

she’s your dad’s best friend for fucks sake, you shouldn't be feeling this way about a woman 20 years older than you, but yet here you are silently pining after her and avoiding her like the damn plague that you’re desperate not to catch. staying cooped up in your room with the lame excuse of ‘homework’ whenever she came over to watch a game with your dad. catching glimpses of her as you leave the safe confinements of your bedroom and sneak down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, your heart almost stopping and you eyes widening immediately when she makes eye contact, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face, showing her delight in making you flustered.

abby looks up at you and raises an eyebrow as she sees you walk into the living room, ”hey, honey~” she says casually, but there’s an undertone of something more in her voice. she leans forward and places her elbows on her knees, her blown-out eyes trail down your body hungrily. a hint of a cocky smirk curls at the corner of her lips. the sexual tension between you two is extremely evident and you can’t help but squirm a little under her gaze as her eyes linger on you for a little too long.

“hey…abby….” you try and speak as nonchalantly as possible, but the words seem to snag in your throat as she’s practically undressing you with her eyes, probably thinking about bending you over the nearest counter and fucking you dumb until you can’t walk straight.

“come and watch a movie with us…” your dad doesn’t seem to notice abby staring and smiles happily. he’s sitting in his trusty old, leather la-z-boy recliner, leaving you no other choice but to sit next to abby on the tiny beige two seater sofa. fuck that. you have better things to do than to endure some mind-numbingly shitty movie for the rest of the night.

“dad i would love to, but…i got stuff to work on…” you sigh softly in frustration, talking in a mildly exasperated tone as you're absolutely insistent on not sitting next to abby. but you truly would rather work on a bullshit project than sit beside her for two hours.

“cmon, kiddo….i hardly spend time with you anymore.” your dad looks at you with a hint of sadness showing on his face and you can’t help but feel a wave of guilt. because its true, being so busy with college and the relentless studying and countless assignments doesn't leave you much time to spend with him these days.

“ugh…fine…”your shoulders slump in defeat and you pout as you walk over to sit beside abby. you squeeze in next to her, her thick thighs pressing into yours as she manspreads even further, obviously getting a kick out of this.

you instinctively reach for a nearby fuzzy blanket to cover up your bare thighs, mentally cursing yourself for wearing such small pyjama shorts in front of her. abby notices you trying to cover up your legs and a smug, knowing smile spreads across her lips, she crosses her arms and leans back into the couch, pushing her knees out even further and bumping them into your legs which only heightens the ongoing tension between the both of you.

you catch onto her act but don’t acknowledge her subtle clues at all, choosing to continue watching the television quietly. after a little while you can feel the weight of her gaze on you again and you turn your head slightly to look at her curiously from the corner of your eye and see her staring at you intently, almost as if she’s studying you somehow.

you turn your head fully and your eyes lock with hers but you don't say anything as your father is still in the room and it makes things unbearably awkward. but despite the growing tension, abby doesn't give a single fuck that he's sitting right there as she slips her hand under the blanket and traces an intricate pattern with her fingertips across the flesh of your thighs.

“you're so naughty… letting me touch you like this while your daddy's in the room~” she whispers into your ear as she slips her hand beneath your soft cotton shorts. you’re thankful for your dad being utterly engrossed in the movie and the booming sound effects making it impossible for anyone but you to hear her words but you still feel so embarrassed of the way your body is reacting to her lewd touch.

the crotch of your shorts is practically sopping wet by the time she gets her hands to where you need her most. she smirks when she feels that you aren't wearing any panties, this new revelation seeming to amuse her. she ever so slightly brushes the pad of her middle finger across your clit, making you bite your lip harshly to stop yourself from making any noise.

she continues to tease you, rubbing tiny circles over your clit before dragging her fingers down through your folds to thrust into your soaked slit, before dragging them back out, evoking a gasp from you.

this back and forth continues for what feels like forever until you're so wet its almost dripping down your thighs and you have to resist the urge to start bucking your hips up into her. the movie quickly comes to an end and she reluctantly drags her hand out of your shorts and rests it back on her own leg. her fingers are still shiny with your slick, glistening in the dim light, your eyes widen as she subtly puts them in her mouth to suck them clean with an air of pride.

you quickly spring up from your seat as soon as the credits start rolling, “i’m really tired, i’m sorry…” you lie, adding in a faux yawn to hopefully fool your dad into letting you leave. your father looks over at you and nods, “of course, you should go to bed. i’ll see you in the morning.” you smile and say your goodnights to both your dad and abby before retreating back up the stairs. the stickiness on your inner thighs reminding you of the feeling of abby’s hand on your cunt just mere minutes ago.

you quickly close your bedroom door behind you, relishing in the silence and security. the room is cozy, decorated with soft colors, from the lavender walls, to the soft white sheets on your comfy bed with plushies and various stuffed animals sitting neatly against the fluffy throw pillows.

you walk over to your bed and collapse down onto it, the lingering wetness of your shorts pressing against your throbbing pussy. you close your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself down, but it's no use. your body is still hot and trembling from all the excitement that abby had brought upon you. and as much as you try to ignore it, that familiar ache between your thighs keeps growing stronger and harder to ignore by the minute, leaving you helplessly longing for a release.

you hand drifts down into your shorts to slowly touch yourself, the memories of what happened earlier still floating around in your mind. your shaky fingers glide over your pussy, still soaked from all the attention abby gave you. barely audible moans leave your lips as you rub through your delicate folds before mimicking the rhythmic movements of abby’s fingers on your clit. your mind is filled with nothing but dirty thoughts about abby and it makes it harder to resist your orgasm.

your breathing becomes ragged and your hips buck up involuntarily, seeking more of the delicious friction that’s pushing you over the edge. your fingers start to move faster, frantically rubbing across your swollen clit and it isn't long before you're cumming, covering your mouth to muffle your whimpers and desperately refraining from crying out her name.

thinking only of the lingering and vivid memory of abby's fingers inside you and how good they stretched you out as you bite your lip and come down from your high, still feeling so aroused but so ashamed at the same time. you feel like such a pervert for thinking about abby this way but she seems so comfortable in this new situationship that’s unfolded between the two of you and it's as if all the existing boundaries been completely erased since that odd afternoon in the kitchen.

you get into bed with a strange sense of guilt lingering over you as you close your eyes tightly, as if trying to forget about everything that happened between the two of you. you lay there staring at the ceiling for a while, the experiences with abby feeling so surreal almost dream-like, and you’re not even quite sure how to process it all.

all you know for sure is that this changes everything between the two of you and it exceeds way beyond a fleeting infatuation or a silly crush on your end.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️#abby anderson #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader

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harrieatthemet · 3 months

Text

Newborn

It's a miracle he hasn't chewed off all 10 fingernails yet.

this is long but whatever!

There's an abundance of nerves so dense it may as well have it's own seat in the Range Rover; plenty enough to go around with seconds for anyone interested. With the stereo at a whopping maximum volume of 2, and unbearably loud fidgeting in the driver's seat, you're well versed enough to know something is just eating away at him.

"The only thing louder than your nail biting," you tease from the backseat, "is the sound of your heart beating in your chest."

You watch his eyes briefly flicker their attention to the mirror, greener than ever as they widen a bit to catch a steady glimpse of your reflection from the backseat. And all he lets out is a quick sigh before he tightens the grip of the wheel (10 and 2, the entire time), eyes out of your peripheral vision as quickly as they came in. He only waits to nervously shift his weight in his seat for the umpteenth time until he gets to another red light.

"S'it bothering you," his tone is so flustered and apologetic, you almost feel bad for joking, "m'sorry just, y'know, nervous."

For the first time since the hospital departure, he turns in his seat to fully face the second row of the car. He's envious of you; so calm and collected, radiant with joy even after a grueling delivery. And he sucks in a calming breath when he trails his glance to the tiny baby snuggled sweetly into the car seat beside you, swimming in her baggy pink flower pajamas and endless mountain of hospital-gifted blankets.

He's done this ride before. He remembers it so fondly as, easily, unarguably, singlehandedly the best drive of his entire life. And it feels like it was only yesterday when he was bringing Angel Baby home for the first time. It's exactly why he's so fucking nervous.

"Har, we're good," and as you patiently insist, you're adjusting the frilly white blanket on the newborn beside you, "but you're driving 9 miles per hour. I literally just saw that woman on the scooter pass us for the third time."

"Hey she's bloody fast on that thing, you saw her!"

"Pretty sure she's missing a wheel," you snicker, "so what's actually bothering you?"

He doesn't want to say it. Like, he really doesn't want to say it. Not just because you both have already discussed it over a dozen times in the past week alone, but because he doesn't care to tarnish what should be a wholesome moment.

So instead he says nothing. Not for a long time, he doesn't let the silence linger but for a minute he says nothing; he barely breathes. When your hand reaches out though, and finds it's way to his shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze, he releases that breath before letting the words soon follow.

"What if she hates 'er," and the way he's blurting it out tells you he's been sitting on this for hours, "or worse, what if she hates me and-and, I dunno, (Y/N) m'nervous. Y'remember wha' she said!"

A very shallow sigh of disapproval innately makes it's way passed your lips. It isn't because you're annoyed with him. The guilt is natural and, by nature, he only ever wants angel baby to be happy. But it's stemming from the fact that you're only physically capable of providing so much assurance. Not to mention he practically begged for another baby.

"Harry she's two," you remind him, "she told your mother she didn't want legs so she wouldn't have to go for a walk."

On the other hand, though, the imminent addition to the family was not a hit for everyone in the household. Angel baby did not take kindly to the impending addition. And you know exactly the incident he's referring to. Sure, she's definitely well immersed into her terrible two's stage, and you'd like to chalk it up to that. But she's never been keen on sharing Harry with anyone, even you sometimes. So the idea of now having to share him with a sister presents itself as an incredibly challenging hurdle.

"She'll be fine," and as you say it as soothingly as possible, you can see he begins to ease up "she's got a built in best friend now."

Those exact words are playing on a loop the rest of the trek home. Each stoplight that brings him closer to the front gate of the house, he's mentally psyching himself up; the best thing to say when he walks in, how to ease her into the role of being a big sister, the right way to bring you in with the new baby. He's so consumed in concocting the perfect delivery that he doesn't even realize he's already pulling past the open gates.

"This is your house," and already he's gone full blown with the baby talk, "y'live here with me 'n mummy 'nd a sister who... might not like you very much fo' a bit."

Though he masqueraded it with a sweet, gooey, charming little baby voice, your squinting eyes are loaded with displeasure so he understands it was not well received.

He takes a moment before opening the door; adjusts the hospital bags in his arms, takes in a breath before allowing it to roll out, lays a gentle kiss to your temple. Then he decides to stretch out his arm to press his thumb on the door handle.

It's a bittersweet moment. He's itching to see angel baby after two long days with out her. And he knows there's family, both yours and his, waiting eagerly to get their eyes on their newest 8 pound family member. But his heart sings when he hears the pattering of a familiar set of bare feet down coming from down the hallway. Immediately, he drops the bags in the foyer to make his way out from the front entrance and down towards the living room.

"Go see m'love," he hears Anne coo sweetly, so he rounds the corner, "who could tha' be?"

For the moment being, despite the fact it's fleeting, he tables the introduction to the newborn once he lays eyes on angel baby. Well aware of the fact you're just in the next room over, a brand new bundle of joy toted in your arms, he feels a surmountable sense of joy now that angel baby's in eye shot; hair unbrushed and a mess from what one would assume was a successful nap, head to toe in a watermelon printed pajama set, eyes wide with sheer joy and arms outstretched to intercept him. To which, he eagerly accepts as he crouches down to let her crash into his chest before sweeping her up.

"There's m'girl," he hums, hand tucking her hair from her face before showering her with kisses, "how's m'angel, hm? Still sleepy from y'sleepover this weekend? Missed me as much as I missed you?"

He can almost feel his heart melt to mush in his chest as he cranes his neck back, listening in awe as angel baby spares no detail in her weekend with both sets of grandparents and Gemma. Most of it is borderline incoherent, though her elaborate expressions and dramatized recounts of events has him entranced.

"Where's mommy?"

"Oh yes" Anne's near double over in excitement, inviting herself into the conversation as she rubs small circle on angel baby's back, "where's (Y/N)? M'about ready t'explode, m'so excited!"

There it is again, that nervous feeling bubbling up in his stomach again. He's excited too; wants to show off the adorable little baby that completed his growing family, watch his mother and sister fawn over her. But he doesn't want to blow it on his first go. Most importantly, mere forethought of angel baby feeling like second place is enough to make him wanna start crying.

So he's going to try to ease angel baby into her new role as a sister while she's still fresh out of a nap and giddy with excitement. And while he still has the balls to actually go through with it.

"Mummy's here poppet," his tone is so sweet and fragile it'd break from the weight of a feather, "n' I think she's got something really, really special for you."

An animated expression paints itself across her face; eyes wide and doe-like as they twinkle in giddiness, her smile tripling in size. It's only a matter of seconds before she's writhing in Harry's arm, desperate to break herself from his grip to place both feet back on the floor.

There's no reason he should feel this guilty and this nervous. He's hot on angel baby's heels as she turns her skips into a light jog, traipsing down the hallway towards the front entrance sitting room as fast as her short legs will allow.

Anne's awing is low in tone, hands flying to her chest as she delights in the sight she's taking in. And as she goes to get a better look, making idle chatter with your parents and gushing to Gemma, Harry's eyes are darting back and forth as though he's waiting for angel baby to go right into orbit.

Momentarily, he anticipates an alternative outcome. Angel baby runs right up to you with arms wide open. He does that thing that gets him every single time - where she melts into the kisses you deliver all over her face. She hasn't killed the newborn yet, or thrown herself to the floor in existential despair. That's gotta be good start.

"Hi bubba, I missed you so, so much" you place a kiss to her forehead and she smiles contently, completely ignoring the baby in your arm, "but I have someone who wants to meet you!"

She squeals with joy, jumping up and down, "A puppy!"

"No baby," you laugh, and Harry swears he's about to spin off the fucking planet, "even better, a baby!"

"A baby dolly!"

She's either choosing to disregard the fact that the baby perched in front of her is 100% a real human being and not made of plastic, or she's genuinely oblivious. Regardless, Harry's panic is quickly becoming your panic. Because now you're both teetering on anxious, though Anne is swift to pick up on it and comes to aid.

"No poppet, not a dolly," Anne mewls, crouching down beside angel baby in front of your lap, "s'your baby sister. Mumma and Daddy brought y'a real sister."

And now it's fully set in - sheer panic. He's quick to jump into action though.

In quick strides from across the other side of the room, he very gently inserts himself beside you on the couch. You aren't catching on to what's to come and he chalks it up to you still being a little tired. Why wouldn't you be? He doesn't want this to go south, so he shifts himself on the couch, knees spread a bit so angel baby can lean on his leg and look over at the . If anyone could be the buffer here, he thinks he's the best bet.

Harry coos, "Say hi t'your baby sister!"

"No"

You side eye your husband beside you, who is staring at angel baby as though he's trying to to mentally coerce her into actually wanting to like the infant. He doesn't know where to take it from here. Angel baby is so viscerally displeased and uninterested at not just the concept of a sister, but the literal physical sister sitting inches away from her face.

"Dunno if that I love my big sister onesie seem t'be working." Gemma cracks in attempt to lighten the mood.

"No?" Harry repeats, though soft, but with the undertone of frantic as he glares at his older sister, "What do y'mean, button? She's really nice, 'nd

"My daddy!"

"Oh I told you," Harry's voice is a hushed squeak as the internal panic collides with irreconciable guilt "(Y/N) I told you!"

He can't imagine things getting worse than this. Until, of course, it does. Because as soon as the infant yawns and squirms a bit, Harry reaches over to your lap on instinct to adjust the hospital cap still clad to her head. And that was enough to get angel baby to strike. She leans right over alongside Harry with her fingers spread and palm flat, going to give the baby a shove before dominantly announcing another 'my daddy.'

A slew of gasps and stern no's come flooding out by all your familial spectators, even including yourself as you angle your body away from your 2 year old with a vengeance. Harry's stomach has completely flipped upside down, especially when angel baby bursts into tears and collapses to the floor.

The temper tantrum has ensued; she's a puddle at Harry's feet, back flat against the multicolored sherpa carpet as she rips out wails that could shatter every glass flower vase throughout the first floor. And naturally, it sets off some cries of distress from the new baby. In a second Harry might join them both.

"Jesus Christ," you exhale quietly, "this is fucked."

Your mom, noble as ever, does her best to step in and peel your daughter off the floor to bring an end to the (literal) swan song. Even now you have to admire the theatrics and flare for drama. She's truly emulating her father.

Her father, who is in an isolated frenzy in his attempt to asses every possible way to rectify this nightmare. Harry's not afraid to go low and opt for the last possible resort.

"Button," he exclaims, like he's just conjured up the best idea of his life, "she got y'a gift! A super big, really fun, totally awesome gift!"

The wailing comes to a slowed stop before an altogether halt. With eyes still watery and cheeks stained with tears, she peels herself up from the floor in what feels like slow motion until she's level with Harry. And she looks up at him with those eyes and that look - the one that you know will have Harry in the palm of her little hand in a matter of seconds.

"A gift?" she says it through a sniffle, "Like.. a barbie?"

She sniffles a few times more in an attempt to collect herself and, God, Harry can't help but fold, "Four barbies!"

And he doesn't care that your face shoots him one of those 'we should discuss this first' looks because she's finally reeling in the crying. And she's finally starting to take to the idea of another baby to share the spotlight with because she goes to lean on your knee now - right next to the baby as a show of solidarity. That's a win to him, even if he had to get there with shameless bribery.

"Harry," you whisper sternly, "remember.. about the gifts... and not spoiling her."

It's like talking to a wall, because he doubles down, "And a new dream house! If y'really sweet t'her, maybe baby sister will buy you tha' little pink limo for 'em too."

"Harry!"

"What?" He shrugs, but quickly evades your glare, "th'limo l'look great with th'house! 'Nd they can't walk everywhere!"

#harry styles fanfiction #dad!harry #harry fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry x reader #harry styles blurbs #harry blurb #harry styles one shot

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queenshelby · 2 months

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part 21: CAUGHT

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Inside the kitchen, Cillian poured you two a glass of wine and heated up the food while you watched, marveling at how easy it was to be around him. It wasn't just his charm or experience, but the passion that seemed to radiate from him. It was infectious and invigorating.

As you sat at the dining table, picking at the delectable dishes laid in front of you, the two of you started talking, about everything and nothing. You discussed everything from poetry to life choices, the conversation flowing naturally, almost effortlessly, as if you had known each other for years.

And then, eventually, he brought up his wife and the fact that, on the morning of this very same day, he had phoned his lawyer.

"I am filing for divorce," he confessed with a solemnity that turned the atmosphere heavy with a looming sense of foreboding. "I just can't do it anymore," he sighed heavily but with a hint of excitement in his voice.

His words hung in the air, weighty and inevitable. You sipped from your wine glass, feeling a sudden chill seize you.

"Please tell me that it's not because of me," you demanded, your voice wavering slightly.

"No," he reassured you, grabbing your hand across the table. "It's just...I can't pretend anymore. I can't keep pretending that I love her when I don't and, after all she has done to me over the years, I am certain that, leaving her, is what I need in order to be happy," he confessed.

His words pierced your heart, and you felt a sense of guilt creeping up inside you. Despite his reassurance, you couldn't deny the fact that you had somehow played a significant role in the end of Cillian and his wife's relationship, although it wasn't intentional. Your affair had started off as a simple short-lived escape from reality for both of you, but now that you confessed your feelings for one another, it was much more than that.

"What are you thinking?" Cillian asked, his voice soft and soothing.

"I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't deny the guilt you felt over what was happening. "She might try to ruin your career," you warned, causing Cillian to nod.

"I know, but like I said, I cannot keep going like this," he confessed. "Life is too short, and I refuse to let her dictate how I should live mine."

You both fell silent for a moment, the gravity of the situation soaking in. The thought of Cillian's name being dragged through the mud was unbearable - even if you felt confident that he was making the right decision.

"What about us?" you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Will there ever be an 'us'?" you wanted to know, causing Cillian to gaze at you, his intense blue eyes meeting your own.

"I want there to be an 'us' Y/N," he affirmed, squeezing your hand. "But I have to take care of this first," he explained, a solemn expression crossing his face. "And to tell you the truth, I do not know how I would ever explain this to Max," Cillian sighed, seeing that until just a year ago you were dating him, his very own son.

"I know. It seems like an impossible situation," you agreed, a twinge of sadness creeping into your voice. "But once you finalise your divorce, we may be able to come up with a plan to address this," you told him, a determined glint in your eyes.

Cillian nodded solemnly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"I could not possibly ask you to wait for me, Y/N. You are young and deserve better than someone like me, who comes with baggage," Cillian admitted, a look of regret flashing across his handsome features as the weight of his words settled between them.

"Cillian, I am in love with you," you declared before taking in a deep breath. "And it's not something that I thought would happen when we started sleeping with each other, but it did," you confessed with all the sincerity you could muster. "So, I think me waiting for you to sort out this mess might be worthwhile. Despite, we can still go on like this, in secret, for the time being," you suggested, your voice hopeful.

Cillian's eyes lit up, his surprise palpable. "You'd do that for me?"

"I would," you replied, a determined expression on your face. "But only if you promise that we will work towards something real after all this is over."

"I promise," he assured you, cupping your cheek before placing a tender kiss on your lips. The promise of a future together was exhilarating, yet tinged with uncertainty. You knew it would not be easy, but the thought of being with Cillian - of sharing yourself fully with him - made the struggle worthwhile.

After you finished your meal and settled on the sofa together, the hours crept towards midnight. The two of you were cocooned in a blanket of warmth, your legs tangled together as you shared stories of your lives.

You relished in the opulence of his penthouse suite, the skyline of London bathed in an ethereal glow as the city lulled to sleep outside. The sounds of the city seemed to fade away until only the gentle hum of his heater filled the silence. Your head rested on Cillian's chest, lulled into a peaceful trance by the steady beat of his heart.

You glanced up at the clock, noticing the time had slipped past the midnight hour. Reluctantly, you detangled yourself from him and stood up.

"I should get going," you mumbled, stifling a yawn. "Early start tomorrow."

Cillian grabbed your hand, his face unreadable in the dim light. "Can't I convince you to stay?"

You hesitated, the desire to spend the night beside him battling with the responsibilities that awaited you in the morning.

"I guess I could get to work straight from here," you mused aloud, glancing up as a sly grin spread across Cillian's face. He tugged gently at your hand, pulling you towards him and trapping you within the circle of his arms.

"Good, then stay," he murmured, nuzzling your hair.

A sigh escaped your lips and you leaned into his embrace, feeling as though you could remain in this moment for an eternity.

"Okay," you agreed, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. "But only if you promise me something," you declared, looking him directly in the eyes.

"Anything," he vowed, his voice low and ragged with desire.

"You will let me sleep," you giggled. "No fooling around," you commanded, your voice barely audible.

Cillian merely chuckled at your words, kissing the top of your head affectionately. "How about a little more fooling around and then I will let you go to sleep," he teased, nipping at your earlobe with his teeth.

"Hmm, not fair," you whispered, closing your eyes and loving the sensation of his lips on your sensitive ear.

He placed his hand underneath your chin, tilting it upwards slightly. His lips found yours in a soft kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You opened your mouth to allow him entrance, the taste of wine still on his tongue as it danced with yours. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you.

Despite your exhaustion, your body immediately responded to his touch, a slow burn working its way through your veins as arousal built within you.

"I am going to be sore tomorrow, won't I?" you joked, pulling back from his embrace and smiling up at him.

Cillian chuckled softly, his arms still wrapped around your waist. "That's the idea. I want you to remember this moment tomorrow, so you know how much I want you," he admitted, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

You shivered, your body aching for his touch, but your mind still tried to resist, knowing that the morning would soon be upon you.

"The sheer thought of being tired and sore from having been fucked by you all night is quite the turn on," you said, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

"Oh, yeah? That's good to know," Cillian murmured, capturing your lip between his teeth for a playful nibble.

His hands slid up your back, lifting the hem of your shirt and caressing the bare skin beneath. You gasped, your body tingling with anticipation.

His t-shirt came off next, revealing his toned but slim frame and the smattering of freckles across his shoulders.

You couldn't help but trace the line of freckles with your fingers, savoring the feeling of his bare skin against yours.

Cillian then captured your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue tracing the contours of your mouth.

You yielded to him, allowing yourself to become lost in the passion of the moment. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath your fingertips.

Despite your earlier reservations, your body begged for more. Each brush of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His cock hardened against your leg, the sensation making you gasp and, by this point, you were so engrossed within each other that you didn't realize that Max had walked through the front door.

"What the fuck!" Max exclaimed, his eyes widening in horror as he realized the scene that was unfolding before him after his mother had sent him to Cillian's apartment to get something for her, knowingly, claiming that his father wasn't home.

To be continued...

Tags:

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#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic

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brandnewhuman · 1 year

Text

THE COD MALEWIFE

♡ random headcanons ♡

☆ starring ☆

♡ könig aka the most babygirl of them all ♡

Tw: mentions of anxiety, weight and mature language. Other than that pure fluff

A/N: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU DON'T GET IT HOW MUCH THIS MAN IS STARTING TO GROW ON ME. THIS FUCKING TALL ASS BITCH AND THE OTHER GIANT JACK SKELLIGNTON FUCKER ARE THE BAIN OF MY EXISTENCE. I needed to do write for him, you can blame it on tiktok and it's sinful content and @bloodlst for fueling my obsession

He knows a lot of cool fidgeting tricks with pencils or knives because he needs to keep his hands busy when he's nervous.

It's almost like a security blanket for him when he's around too many people, he carries something he can fidget with and uses it

I can't stress this enough but tall people have back pains and oh boy if könig is tall

He is always cranky in the morning because of it and because he loves to just sleep in the weirdest fucking positions ever

Which is funny cause otherwise his postures is always very straight and stiff, it just that when he sleeps he gets all weird

About that, he hates, absolutely despises, the beds they have during missions

THEY'RE TOO SMALL OKAY? AND TOO THIN AND HE CAN'T FUCKING REST WELL AT ALL

which makes me absolutely sure he downs coffee likes it's fucking water

His breakfast is basically a big ass mug of coffee first and then some herbal or fruity tea or maybe some juice

He loves sweets but has a weirdly good self control

He just likes the idea of savouring things rather than eating all at once bc they're so good

Besides I just know he has also a tendency to gain weight more easily than the others

He just tries to be as healthy and balanced with things as much possible bro

The only times he doesn't pays much attention to what he eats is around the holidays or when he gets to see his family

Which always ends up in him putting some weight but he doesn't cares that much, he always gets in shape before getting back to work

He loves to read, he carries a book everywhere he goes and ITS THAT TYPE OF PERSON WHO CAN'T FUCKING HIDE THEIR REACTION TO WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THE STORY

You can actively see this unit of a man closing the book and like getting up and walking away two steps just to turn around and keep reading

HE CAN'T HANDLE THE DRAMA OKAY? LEAVE HIM ALONE

He does not look his age at all. Either bc of how youthful he acts or bc he looks really young no one has ever guessed his age and it's something he find quite funny so he just let people try to figure it out on their own

People are often really mean with him and sometimes really harsh. He knows they're just playing around and they mess up with everyone like that but he gets genuinely hurt sometimes

No one notices cause he always takes it like a champ tho

I feel like ghost kind of gets annoyed at him. Not for the reason you may think

He's just looks always so serene and at peace, but most importantly happy and it's something ghost can't comprehend given what they do for a living

Key word is looks

König is not a sad person by default and he recovers pretty quickly for certain things but he always carries around a weight of guilt and self doubt that is unbearable sometimes

Much like ghost, this man is kind of scare of himself really

He always worries about ending up being some sort of psycho who has no regards towards human lives

He gets so carried away when he's on the mission and often does not realise how efficient and kind of brutal he can get

He is absolutely scared of ghost. Everytime he is in the same room with him he just gets so nervous he ends up embarrassing himself more than once

Look, I may be projecting onto him but I KNOW THIS MAN AND HE HAS HIS JAW FUCKED UP FROM CLENCHING IT TOO MUCH

like I have anxiety and my jaw is dislocated cause ever since I was a kid I was always clenching my jaw while sleeping or unconsciously while going about my day so I just know that someone like him has the same problem

He has definitely popped his jaw and hurted his ear more than once and has ADORABLE CROOKED TEETH CAUSE I DO AND I WANT HIM TOO OKAY?

he is really good at signing but everyone thinks he's not because the few times he has tried to sing in front of someone he fucked up from being too nervous

He knows how to play piano. As matter of fact he has one at home

Prefers wine over beer or cocktails but has a weird ass liking for strong liquors

And BTW he is annoyingly hard to get drunk, this man could get down shot after shot and still be as lucid as ever

Which soap found out by embarrassing himself. König ended up trying to take care for him the whole night cause he felt guilty

When he gets angry is not a pretty scene. He's always so jolly and easy going even if you're rude to him so is hard for him to get angry, but when he snaps this man is not playing around

Smells of fresh laundry and lemon perfume

He is still pretty mad about not being able to be a sniper. Specially because he's good at his job, he knows he is but no one believed in him and his abilities bc of his height and his anxiety

When he was younger everyone always used to talk over him because he had difficulty with speech due to his anxiety

He used to get so frustrated to the point of crying and since no one ever had the patience to listen to him he just used to write on notebooks all the things no one ever wanted to hear

He still does it and has like a lot of diaries filled with rants, thoughts, jokes ecc

When he was younger he used to listen to the FILTHIEST SONGS not knowing what they were about because he didn't understand English well

When he's nervous his accent slips a little bit

He writes letters to his loved ones and specially his s/o when his away from home and has the prettiest handwriting ever

#könig #könig cod #könig cod mw2 #könig cod headcanons #cod headcanons #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #codmw2 #cod

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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months

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Undying Love || Bucky

Character : Assasin!Bucky x Assasin!Reader

Words Count: 1,490

Summary: Bucky, a famed assassin, retired to his hometown after a mistaken cancer diagnosis. Unbeknownst to him, his nemesis followed him, determined to claim her place as the number one assassin.

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Bucky Barnes, the world's most feared assassin, felt a sinking dread as he read the words on the medical report: "Cancer." His life of shadows and violence had finally caught up to him. He decided to return to his quiet hometown, seeking solace in his childhood memories before the inevitable.

Little did Bucky know his nemesis, Y/N, had followed him. Clad in sleek leather and a steely gaze, she was determined to claim the title of "Number One Assassin" by taking him down. She shadowed Bucky relentlessly, a constant ghost reminding him of the fight he couldn't escape.

One day, Y/N finally cornered Bucky. Knives clashed, sparks flew, but Bucky's movements were sluggish, his strength sapped by the illness. He knew he needed to end this fight, but not with violence. A sudden idea struck him.

With a swift movement, Bucky closed the distance between them and kissed Y/N. The kiss was unexpected, electrifying, and disarmed Y/N completely.

"Why did you do that?" she sputtered, her cheeks flushed.

Bucky smirked. "You're my type, Y/N."

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Don't try to charm your way out of this. You're not getting away with this, Bucky."

Bucky's smile faltered. "Please do," he whispered. "Release me from this misery."

His words made her caught off guard, she had never seen him give up this quick. "Are you alright?"

"I'm sick," he confessed, the words heavy on his tongue.

The revelation hung in the air, a bridge built between two sworn enemies. Y/N saw the pain and vulnerability beneath Bucky's hardened exterior.

From that day on, a fragile truce settled between them. Y/N, unable to bear watching him suffer, found herself becoming his caretaker.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N's presence in Bucky's life became more than a duty. He looked forward to her visits, shared meals, and their quiet moments. He began to see her not just as his nemesis but as a woman who made him laugh, soothed his soul, and made him feel alive again.

One day, he gathered the courage and made an appointment for another checkup. He needed to know for sure. As he sat in the sterile waiting room, anxiety gnawed at him.

What if the results were the same?

What if he had less time than he thought?

The doctor finally called his name. Bucky felt his heart pound in his chest as he entered the room. The doctor's expression was grave, his voice solemn as he spoke.

"Mr. Barnes," the doctor began, "I have some good news. It appears there was an error in your previous tests. You do not have cancer."

Relief flooded Bucky's body, so intense it almost knocked him off his feet. He could breathe again, truly breathe. He had a second chance, a future to look forward to.

But amidst the joy, a new fear took root.

If Y/N found out, would she leave?

Would she feel betrayed, used, or lied to?

The thought was unbearable. The woman who had become his lifeline, his reason to smile, could vanish instantly.

So, Bucky made a choice. He kept the truth hidden. He returned home, a silent struggle raging within him. The joy of his health was tainted by the guilt of his deception.

He saw Y/N waiting for him, her eyes filled with concern. She had prepared his favorite meal, a small act of love that tore at his heart. He sat down, a mask of normalcy plastered on his face.

As they ate, he forced himself to smile, to laugh at her jokes, to pretend everything was fine. All the while, a part of him withered, the weight of his lie crushing him from the inside.

He knew he couldn't live like this forever. He had to tell her the truth, no matter the consequences. But until then, he would savor each moment with her, each stolen laugh, each shared sunset. He would hold onto the fragile peace she had brought into his life, even if it was built on a foundation of lies.

One day, Y/N stumbled upon a discarded medical report. The truth hit her like a bullet. Bucky wasn't sick. The doctor had read the wrong file.

Y/N was furious. She felt betrayed, lied to. But as she looked at him, sleeping peacefully in his bed, her anger melted away. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so relieved you're healthy."

Bucky woke up to her touch. Guilt washed over him. He had been so afraid of losing her that he had kept the truth hidden.

Bucky felt tears prick his eyes. "I...I was afraid," he choked out. "I was afraid of losing you. I thought that if you knew the truth, you would leave me."

Y/N looked at him, her anger slowly melting away into understanding. "Bucky," she said softly, "why didn't you just tell me you were afraid? We could have faced it together."

Bucky shook his head. "I didn't want to burden you. You were already taking care of me, doing everything you could to help. I didn't want to add to your worries."

Y/N placed a hand over his. "Bucky," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "you are not a burden. You are the man I love. And I would do anything for you, anything at all."

Bucky looked into her eyes, his heart filled with gratitude and love. "I love you too, Y/N," he whispered. "More than words can express."

As their lips met, a tear escaped Y/N's eye, tracing a shimmering path down her cheek. Bucky felt it against his skin, a testament to the depth of her emotions. He chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting.

"Funny," he murmured, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. "Who would have thought it would come to this? You, wanting to kill me, and now...saying you love me."

A playful glint entered Y/N's eyes. "Didn't you say I was your type?" she teased, rolling her eyes playfully.

Bucky grinned, his heart overflowing with a joy he had never known. He had faced death and lived in the shadows, but it was Y/N who had indeed shown him the light.

Bucky pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her like a warm embrace. Y/N leaned into his touch, her heart beating perfectly with his.

At that moment, they were two souls intertwined, their pasts forgotten, their future a blank canvas waiting to be painted with love and laughter.

-The End-

Author Note :

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

I'm now offering faster release and bonus chapters for Ko-fi members. If you enjoy my content and want early access, consider supporting me on Ko-fi!

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

#bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #assasin!bucky barnes #the winter soldier

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eksvaized · 1 month

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Part Four König / Ghost / Reader [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist (if you want to be added - let me know!): @strawberrygato, @ghostslittlegf, @eskalotte, @abcdbleh, @yawning-grave81, @liamwholover, @valira-demaur, @idek101-01

You don’t immediately confront König about the texts you discovered on his phone. Initially, you keep quiet because you’re still trying to comprehend and process the shocking revelation. The words you read are still swirling around in your mind, causing you to question everything you thought you knew about your relationship. However, as you remain silent, a creeping sense of doubt infiltrates your thoughts. You question your own judgement, wondering if perhaps you have misunderstood the situation. You wrestle with the notion that maybe there’s an explanation, a context that you’re not privy to.

The very notion that König could betray your trust and cheat on you is too painful to even consider. While there are times when he seems distant and you sometimes feel that he doesn’t pay enough attention to you, deep down, you still want to believe in him. You want to have faith that the man you love would not hurt you in such an unimaginable way.

And then, there comes a moment, when you find yourself aimlessly standing in the kitchen. Your eyes, almost instinctively, drift towards the window. There, you catch the sight of your neighbour. As your gaze lingers on him longer than it should, a pang of guilt washes over you like a tidal wave. Suddenly, it hits you like a bolt of lightning, the realization that your thoughts are straying, straying into a territory that you never intended to venture into. It makes you question whether you are really any better than König.

Your boyfriend might occasionally engage in harmless flirting with other women. Yet, you are in a similarly precarious situation, guilty of the same act of letting your eyes wander. You find yourself infatuated, even slightly obsessed, with the man who lives across the street. Even now, at this very moment when you should be returning to your living room, where König is waiting for you, you find yourself rooted to the spot, unable to move.

You let out a weary sigh, the weight of the world seemingly pressing against your chest. Your hands reach up to rub your face. The thought of confronting König has been gnawing at you, consuming every waking moment with a dread that’s nearly unbearable. You know deep down in the pit of your stomach that you should have a conversation with him. Yet, the haunting fear of the unknown keeps you paralyzed.

The morning has started off on such a high note, with König in a great mood. The last thing you want to do is to cast a dark cloud over the day. So, for now, you decide to push the matter aside, tucking it away in a corner of your mind. Yet again, you make a solemn promise to yourself, a vow sealed with the weight of your own resolve, to broach the subject of his potential infidelity the following day. Tomorrow, you would face the storm head on. But for today, you allow yourself a moment’s respite from the looming storm.

However, when the promised tomorrow arrives, you cannot break the silence. Again. Your lips remain sealed, your words swallowed by the anxiety of what his response might be. As the hours turn into days, and then into weeks, you find yourself trapped in a continuous, never-ending loop of silent mornings that stretch out before you, each one more daunting than the last.

Every day, you wake up filled with a newfound determination, believing that today would be the day you would finally gather the courage to ask him the daunting question that’s been relentlessly haunting your thoughts, echoing in the empty corners of your mind. But every time the moment arrives, every time you find yourself standing at the precipice of confession, you bite back the words, swallowing them down as they rise in your throat.

The question stays unasked, lingering in the air between you like a ghost, because you’re terrified of what Konig might say. You fear the rejection, the disappointment, the potential heartbreak, and breakup that his answer might bring—you fear the change that might come. But above all, you fear falsely accusing him. And so you remain silent, caught in a cycle of fear and anticipation, waiting for a tomorrow that might never come.

* * *

“Trust me… I’ll make up for it when I come back, okay?” König’s words echo in the hallway as he steps closer to you. The intensity of his gaze is almost palpable, and the air seems to thicken. As he leans down, his lips find their way to your forehead. It’s a gentle touch, soft and tender, sending a comforting warmth seeping through you, spreading from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

His hands find their place on your waist before venturing further, sneaking under the hem of your shirt. The feel of his gloves lightly grazing your bare skin sends a shiver down your spine, a ticklish sensation that has you squirming in his arms “I know you really wanted to visit your family, and that you are disappointed that the plans had to change, but this… this is the last time I’m breaking my promises.”

You’ve considered the idea of going alone, but the thought of flying on your own is daunting and the prospect of traveling across the country by yourself is something you’d rather not do. So, a part of you wants to trust him, to believe in the sincerity of his words. However, there’s this lingering voice at the back of your mind, a constant nagging reminder of past experiences, urging you not to place too much hope on the chance that König would keep his word this time.

As he leans down to kiss you, his hands trace the contours of your body. They glide downwards in a slow motion before settling on your hips. His fingers hook around the belt loops on your jeans, exerting just enough pressure to tug you gently, yet insistently, closer to him.

König pauses then, creating a moment of suspense that makes your breath hitch. As his eyes focus on you, his forehead comes to rest against yours. The intensity of his gaze is magnetic, drawing you in and holding you captive.

In the quiet space between heartbeats, he breaks the silence. His voice, low and husky, “I’m going to miss you.” The words hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the inevitable parting that looms ahead, adding a bittersweet edge to the tender moment you two are sharing.

You give a slight nod in response; the words stuck in your throat, unable to find their way out. You’ve always found it excruciatingly hard to bid him goodbye, to watch him walk away with the haunting uncertainty that he might not come back. The fear always nibbles at your heartstrings. But this time, it feels distinctively different from the departures that preceded it. This time, he tenderly wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you into the comforting warmth of his embrace, holding you so tightly as if trying to imprint the moment into his memory. His voice, a soft murmur laced with raw emotion, tickles your hair as he leans in to whisper the three words that make your heart flutter: “I love you.”

* * *

As each day passes by, one following the other, they march in a slow, monotonous rhythm, a procession of identical hours and minutes that seem to stretch into infinity. You fall back into your mundane routine, the familiar patterns offering some semblance of normality. You fill your hours with activities, tasks and hobbies, each one designed to distract you from the overwhelming sense of loneliness that threatens to consume you. This feeling, this insidious companion, becomes particularly potent whenever you are alone in the house.

One of these mundane activities is doing laundry. It’s a chore that brings you face-to-face with König’s oversized duffle bag, which is practically bursting at the seams, indicating it’s full of dirty clothes. With a sigh, you approach it, lift it with an effort, and start extracting the smelly, forgotten laundry. You can’t help but crinkle your nose in disgust — König’s disregard for cleanliness, particularly his tendency to leave his dirty clothes lying around when he returns home from a mission, is a habit you’ve always found distasteful.

As you lift the worn-out duffle bag for one last shake, ensuring every last piece of clothing has been retrieved, a crumpled, forgotten piece of paper tumbles out and lands softly on your lap. It piques your curiosity. Casting the bag aside, you pick up the paper, your fingers tracing its creased edges as you attempt to smooth it out.

It’s a hastily torn page from some notebook, its edges rugged. Something has been scrawled across it in messy, rushed handwriting, as if the thoughts were too fast for the hand to keep up with. The once vibrant ink has smudged, faded, and blotched in places, making it a challenge to decipher the words. So, you bring it closer to your face, your eyes squinting in concentration, your mind eager to decode the what was written so hastily.

Meet me at the usual spot when you come back. -S

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t pay much attention to the note. After all, it’s not uncommon to find a medley of objects, ranging from old notes to various pieces of paper, interspersed amongst König’s possessions. He has a habit of stuffing it all in the side pockets of his bag, rather than disposing of everything.

However, on this occasion, the mere sight of a single initial inscribed at the end of the note instantaneously triggers a wave of memories, all leading back to the cryptic messages you had encountered on König’s phone. While there isn’t any concrete evidence linking the note to Sarah, a gut feeling, combined with a series of coincidences, leads you to believe that this note was penned by her.

Throughout the entire day, you keep the note tucked away with you. It sits in your pocket, feeling heavier than a handful of stones. Now and then, you find your hand subconsciously reaching out to touch it, just to reassure yourself that it’s still there. You are gripped by the fear of misplacing it, consumed by the thought of it slipping out of your pocket unnoticed, or worse, accidentally throwing it away with the day’s rubbish. .

You are filled with a profound sense of regret, a feeling that gnaws at your heart. You wish you had discovered the note sooner, at a time, when König was still within reach, still at home.

You can’t help but allow your mind to wander to what could have been. It’s crazy how something so small could hold such big implications. It is the missing puzzle piece—the catalyst you needed to muster the courage to confront him, to have a heart to heart conversation about the questions that have been haunting you for weeks now. However, he is no longer here to provide the answers you seek. His presence replaced by an echoing silence and cold emptiness.

Yes, you can call him, while clinging to the hope that he hasn’t decided to turn off his phone and that he will be willing to pick up. But you yearn for more. You want to see the expression changing on his face as the truth finally sees the light of day. You want to witness that moment of raw honesty, not just hear it.

Your evening culminates with you sinking, almost melting, into the plush cushions of the couch. The room around you is bathed in a soft, dim light, the last remnants of the day’s glow that are gradually fading away, surrendering to the impending darkness of the night.

You seek refuge from the tormenting thoughts that have taken a firm grip on your mind, and attempt to distract yourself with a bottle of wine. This bottle, which you found hidden deep in the far corner of one of the kitchen cupboards, had been lying there neglected, its layer of dust indicating its long-standing disuse.

You’d hoped that the warmth of the wine trickling slowly down your throat would offer some semblance of solace, a temporary respite from the turmoil within. However, the wine doesn’t seem to be working its anticipated magic. Instead of the calming effect you’d hoped for, the chaos inside your mind persists, relentless and unforgiving. It leaves no room for tranquility.

The note, those haunting words etched upon it, along with the vivid image of König and Sarah together, play in your mind like a broken record. The heart-wrenching thought of them together is like a punch to your gut, making you reel with a pain you’ve never known before. All these thoughts, these nagging reminders of a reality you’re not yet ready to accept, continue to circle in your head. They are like unwelcome guests who have not only overstayed their welcome but have also made themselves too comfortable, refusing to leave the confines of your already burdened and overwhelmed mind.

At this point, you are at a loss, unsure of your own emotions. You stand on the precipice of an emotional abyss, not knowing whether to let your pent-up frustration take the reins. To yell, to scream, to let it all out in a burst of cathartic anger, or to let the tightly held dam of tears break loose, allowing yourself the release of a heart-wrenching cry. A cry so deep, so raw that you might just end up crying until you’re completely spent, until you’re hollow and numb, devoid of any feeling.

You grumble when the doorbell rings. A sense of annoyance bubbles up within you, prickling at your skin like a thousand tiny needles, since you are certainly not in the mood to entertain unannounced guests. In your quiet frustration, you stubbornly choose not to move at first, silently praying that the person standing on your doorstep will take the hint and leave. But much to your dismay, the doorbell rings again. Again. And then, again. The repeated disturbance finally causes your patience to snap like a twig.

With an audible groan, after it becomes clear that the uninvited visitor won’t leave, you angrily pull yourself up. You march towards the door; your mind filled with bitter thoughts, ready to confront and cuss out the person who dared to disturb you.

As you reach out to twist the knob and open the door, the words you had been rehearsing seem to become lodged in your throat, rendering you momentarily speechless. A look of surprise paints your face as you take a sharp breath in. Standing at your doorstep is your neighbour.

His gaze, piercing and inquisitive, travels down your body before snapping back up to meet your eyes. It is at this moment that you suddenly become aware of your appearance. You are clad in one of König’s old, worn-out shirts that hang loosely on your frame, coupled with a pair of grey joggers that have definitely seen better days. Your hair is dishevelled, a wild mess that you haven’t bothered to tame, to say the least.

To top it all off, the haunted look in your eyes is unmistakable; in a sense, you are indeed being haunted. The note, stashed away in your pocket, seems to radiate an intense heat that burns through the fabric of your joggers. It feels as though it’s searing your skin.

“You’ve come to borrow another cup of sugar?” You inquire, your voice laced with a rich, unmistakable layer of sarcasm. The once overpowering feelings of hesitation and intimidation that had previously gripped you, rendering you silent during your last encounter with him, have now dissipated.

“No.” The word falls from his lips as he shakes his head. A few rebellious strands of his hair tumble forward to obscure his eyes. It looks like he just stepped out of the shower—his locks are still slightly damp, and you can’t help but notice the way they’ve darkened from their usual shade.

Your eyes wander, drawn to the subtle changes in him you hadn’t noticed before because of your nervousness, but the movement of his arm pulls your attention away. Your neighbour extends his hand towards you, his fingers curled something. His action effectively diverts your attention from his appearance. “But I wanted to give you back this.”

Upon closer look, you realise it’s the cup you had lent him. You nod, reaching out to take it from him. Your fingers brush against his. Just days ago, such touch had sent a jolt of electricity coursing down your spine, made your heart beat faster, and even caused you to blush. But right now, it all is replaced by an all-consuming numbness and emptiness that has taken up residence within the deepest corners of your heart.

You want to tell him that he really didn’t have to go through the trouble of returning the cup. But there’s a question that’s been burning at the back of your mind, a question that you’ve been wanting to ask him for quite some time now.

“What’s your name?”

“Simon,” he says. There’s a moment of silence that seems to stretch on but only lasts a few heartbeats.

His brown eyes dart towards your vacant driveway. The absence of your boyfriend’s truck does not go unnoticed. Then, as if on a silent cue, they flit over your shoulder, taking in the hollow emptiness of the hallway behind you. Every corner, every shadow, scanned with an almost unnerving precision. And then, within the blink of an eye, his gaze returns to its original position, resting on your face, studying you with an intensity that’s hard to ignore.

“Y/N,” you also say, deciding to introduce yourself as well. It feels only fair after all.

It’s clear to you that you should shut the door right in Simon’s face, just like you did the last time he showed up late in the evening. However, the weight of the note in your pocket feels extraordinarily heavy, and it ignites a burning desire within you to retaliate against König. The wine, which has been flowing freely tonight, is clouding your judgment and leading you to make irrational decisions.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask, a question that in the sober light of day, you will probably regret.

“Won’t your boyfriend be mad?” Simon replies. For a moment, you find yourself puzzled, wondering how he knows about your relationship. But then it dawns on you—his house is right across the street. There’s no way he could be ignorant of your comings and goings, and he’s certainly not blind or stupid. He must have spotted König at least a few times.

“He’s not at home,” you say, a hint of defiance in your voice.

You half-expect Simon to turn down your invitation. But to your utter astonishment, he takes you up on your request and steps over the threshold, into your home.

After you lead him to the living room, you pour him a glass of wine, draining the last drops from the bottle. Sitting down on the armchair, he leaves you to claim the entire couch for yourself. The conversation, initially, is awkward and stilted—you find yourself grappling for the right words to say, and his intense scrutiny doesn’t help.

His lips are curled into a smirk, his gaze shamelessly scanning your figure with a heated intensity that causes a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks. However, you find solace in the wine; the more you concentrate on the swirling ruby liquid in your glass and drink, the easier it becomes to maintain the conversation.

You expect him to make advances, to reciprocate the flirtatious overtures that you not so subtly weave into your sentences. But even when you let slip a few obvious innuendos, a few candid remarks about the palpable loneliness that you feel, or about his undeniable attractiveness, Simon doesn’t seem to register them. Or if he does, he does a commendable job of feigning ignorance.

As you sit across from him, you can’t help but notice the way he listens to your every word, his attention never faltering. It’s as if your conversation is the most important thing to him at that moment. His eyes—always focused on you. Somewhere along the way, amid the banter and the wine, you find yourself veering away from idle chit-chat, starting to open up to him. The conversation takes on a more profound tone, and you begin sharing things you never thought you would. You pour your heart out, peeling back the layers, revealing parts of yourself that have been hidden for so long.

“If you want to know the truth instead of trying to come up with your own version of it, you should just ask him and stop avoiding the difficult conversation just because you’re afraid of its outcome,” Simon says after you share with him your suspicion that your boyfriend might be cheating.

You’re not entirely sure why you chose to unveil such personal turmoil to him. Perhaps it was his empathetic gaze or the fact that he was simply there. At the right moment. Regardless, it feels incredibly cathartic to finally unload the burden that has been weighing heavily on your heart, even if the person you’re entrusting this secret to is essentially a neighbour—a person you barely know.

The atmosphere is saturated with a silent, heavy melancholy, palpable in the surrounding air. Simon catches a fleeting glimpse of the sadness mirrored in your eyes. He’s quick to offer consolation. His words, tender and sincere, gently brush away the dark, brooding clouds that had gathered in your mind, casting a shadow over your thoughts. Eager to distract you from your worries, he shifts the conversation to a lighter note.

He starts talking about everyday occurrences, sharing amusing anecdotes, and recalling some old memories, all in an attempt to bring some normalcy back into the equation. This strategy, simple yet effective, seems to work its magic as your gloomy mood gradually lifts.

As the hours unfurl and slip away, you find yourself deeply engrossed in a multitude of topics, ranging from the mundane to the profound. Simon appears genuinely interested in getting to know you. His demeanor is open, warm and encouraging, prompting you to open up and share parts of yourself that you usually keep hidden away. As you share stories about your life, yourself and your relationship, you answer his volley of questions with refreshing honesty.

However, it’s only much later, when the conversation has dwindled and you’re left with your thoughts, that you realize that Simon, despite leading the conversation and asking all the questions, has shared very little about himself.

Eventually, exhaustion creeps in. You lower yourself down on the couch, stretching your legs out, the stiffness in your joints slowly dissipating as you sink deeper into cushions. Without realizing it, you drift off to sleep, an empty glass still clutched in your hand. The last thing you remember before sleep completely engulfs you is the sound of Simon’s voice, a soft cadence in the background, narrating his recent move to America for work. What surprises you is the lack of an accent, quite unusual considering he hasn’t spent a significant amount of time in the states yet. You want to comment on it, but the thought remains unspoken, swallowed up by the encroaching fog of sleep.

When you awaken, the armchair that he had been occupying is empty. You assume that he must have gone home—the house is quiet, devoid of any sound of footsteps.

The soft glow of the moonlight illuminates the darkness, offering you just enough light to navigate through the house without stumbling. But as you make your way towards the bedroom, the soft glow of a light turned on in the hallway catches your attention. You halt and see Simon’s silhouette. He appears to be engaged in something, though from your position, it’s hard to tell exactly what. Several doors are left slightly ajar.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice piercing the silence. Simon looks startled at your sudden question. He turns around, his body stiffening before eventually relaxing.

“I was just looking for a bathroom,” he explains.

“Oh,” you respond, suppressing a yawn and scratching the back of your head as you point towards the room across the corridor.

A/N: finally I was able to edit this chapter-- it took me so damn long because of all the midterms (which literally left my brain scrambled) >.< but thank u for the patience & hope you enjoyed it!!

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #writing #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod #ghost cod #konigxghostxreader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig #konig x reader #fem!reader #ao3 fanfic

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kun3ho141 · 23 days

Text

This image does not belong to me. All credit is due to its respective owner.

Inspiration: Call of Duty: Ghosts

Pairing: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

Synopsis: With the grief of losing his family, Hesh blames himself for the loss of his younger brother. While locating Logan, guiding a team, and maintaining a relationship, he succumbs to yet another nightmare, seeking comfort in your presence.

Word-Count: 985

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Panic Attack

☆ Reblog, Comment, and Like ☆

I do not permit others to translate or republish my works on this platform or any other A.I. program.

A/N: I found a post that talked about Hesh experiencing overwhelming guilt after losing his family. Even though I can't find it, if you happen to stumble upon it, please tag me. I'd love to credit them.

Originally, I planned to write fluff, but this particular scenario came to mind. I promise to write something more wholesome next time lol. Thank you for reading!! ♡

Hesh's heart pounds in his chest as he struggles to catch his breath. The image of Logan's despairing face flashes before his eyes, etching itself into his memory. The sound of his brother's cries echo in his ears, haunting him with every beat of his racing pulse.

Sitting up in bed, Hesh runs a trembling hand through his buzzed hair, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that had woken him. The room feels suffocating, the air thick with the overwhelming guilt that threatens to consume him.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Since his childhood, Hesh’s father had emphasized the importance of looking after his younger brother, a duty he approached with dedication and pride. However, since Logan’s abduction, he believes his own failure allowed Rorke to take him, convinced that he lacked the strength to protect him or to offer himself in his brother's place.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

A single bead of sweat trickles down his forehead, making its way to his cheek. His throat is parched, and he struggles to breathe.

In the midst of his turmoil, he can almost hear his father's voice, the words a relentless mantra in his mind. "You were supposed to protect him," it whispers, each syllable a sharp stab to his already wounded conscience. The weight of his father's expectations presses down on him, threatening to crush him under its unbearable culpability.

“...esh?..”

“..ove?..”

“Hesh!”

His thoughts abruptly halt when he hears your voice echoing in his ears. Glancing to his left, he spots your figure. You’re sitting up, anxiously gazing at him, tightly gripping the shared blanket.

“Are you okay, love?” you question him, scooting closer to his trembling form. Taking his hand, you soothingly brush his knuckles. Your expression is gentle, in sharp contrast to the exhausted and guilt-ridden look on your boyfriend's face. Not wanting you to worry, he merely offers you a smile. He had forgotten that you were sleeping beside him.

"I'm alright, sweetheart," he murmurs. Despite his effort to conceal his discomfort, his voice falters. Seeing your concern heighten, he averts his gaze. With a soft sigh, he understands that you’re aware of his distress.

“Another nightmare?” you ask, tightening your hold on his hand. Without saying a word, he simply nods. As tears well up in his eyes, his throat tightens. Ever since Logan's absence, he hasn't been the same, feeling completely lethargic. His temper has worsened, causing him to lash out at his team and even at you. The realization that he's hurting the only person he has left in this world weighs heavily on his shoulders.

He lets out a soft whimper, then collapses into your arms. His erratic breathing persists, clutching onto you as if his life depended on it. "I'm sorry..." he repeats profusely, his voice tinged with regret.

Your heart aches, watching him crumble in your arms. “It’s okay…” you console him, embracing him tightly while running your fingers through his short hair. Planting tender kisses on his head, you attentively listen to his uneven breathing. His tears soak into your nightshirt, dampening the fabric. However, you remain unbothered, solely focused on your boyfriend's well-being.

“I’m trying my best,” he promises, his voice strained and fractured. "But I feel like I'm letting the team down... and hurting you too..." His sobs grow louder, finally releasing all the emotions he has been suppressing since Logan's absence.

You've noticed his waning patience, understanding the reasons for his actions. Coping with the loss of his family, the pressure of finding his brother, and juggling both a team and relationship? Difficult was an understatement.

“No, no, sweetheart,” you reply, pulling his body closer to yours. "I'm sure they understand, and I’m not upset at all." You assure him, resting your head against his. Breathing in his scent, you gently rub his back, attempting to comfort him. “I know you’re trying your best…”

He shakes his head, dismissing your words. "I'm pushing you away," he murmurs. Despite wanting to deny his claim of disregarding you, there’s some truth in his words. He’s been neglecting your relationship, focusing solely on his work. He’s dedicated most, if not all, of his time to locating Logan. While you understand this, you feel alone and excluded. Even taking on the responsibility of caring for Riley because Hesh forgets to feed him.

Noticing your silence, he instinctively strengthens his hold on you, overwhelmed with apprehension. Although his voice is barely audible, his plea manages to reach you, "Please… don’t leave me too." With his words pulling at your heart, you attempt to understand the fear that engulfs him. His nails dig into your skin, desperately grasping onto you. Ignoring the sharp pain, you focus on consoling him.

"I won’t. I promise," you respond, your voice devoid of any uncertainty. The mere thought of you leaving him alone, vanishing from his life, lingers in his mind, haunting him. “It’s going to be okay…” you whisper, gently raising his head to meet your gaze. A faint smile grazes your lips as you look at his face. Despite the scars and exhaustion, you still see the charismatic man you fell in love with years ago. "We’ll find him, I promise..."

He nods, finally calming down. His tears wane and his breathing becomes steady as you plant a soft kiss on his forehead, then on his lips. His calloused hands loosen their grip, as he finally finds solace in the moment. Seconds pass before you separate, cupping his face in your hands, caressing his scarred cheeks with your thumbs. Your foreheads touch, eyes closed. "We'll work on our relationship and the team. I'm not going anywhere, Hesh. I promise," you murmur.

Sitting up straight, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering before he pulls away. "I love you so much... I always will."

“I love you too.”

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 4 months

Text

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 19

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 01/03

Word Count: 7K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

That place…lightning and a red sky. You couldn’t get it out of your head. You couldn’t stop picturing it, trying to make it make sense, trying to figure out where it could be, this place that haunted him, wouldn’t let him rest. Could it be the mall fire? The flames and smoke could have made the sky appear red…but didn’t the fire happen at night? And was there a storm that night? You didn’t remember there being any mention of a storm in the news articles you'd read. But with so many deaths, the weather could have been an inconsequential detail.

You lay back on the couch, Eddie’s heavy weight pressing you down into the cushions as he slept, wrapped around you like a baby lemur. His arms were locked around your waist and his leg wound around your thigh. Soft snores rumbled between his lips from where his head rested on your chest. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to and you didn’t find yourself inclined to do so, comforted by the warmth of his body, your own personal man-shaped heating blanket.

Your fingers danced over his dark locks, appearing almost black in the darkness of the room, rubbing the ends between your thumb and finger. He’d finally calmed, slipped into sleep, about an hour ago, once the thunder and the lightning had subsided. But you found yourself wide awake, your brain unable to stop the mad dash it was in as it tried to search for answers to your never-ending questions.

Soft whimpers filled the silence as Eddie began to move, small, jerky movements at first, building into more erratic ones. His head shook from side to side, jaw stabbing into your sternum, fingers trembling against your back. Then his arms shot out from underneath you and you made a cage with your own around your head, preparing for him to lash out. Because that’s always where it led. You had quickly learned within the past week to dart out of the way once the nightmares took over but there was nowhere for you to go with him on top of you and he was going to feel awful if he managed to hurt you again.

“No! No! Dustin, please!”

“Eddie!” you cried out, trying to break through the horrible memory he was living, to bring him back to the present, to you. “Eddie! It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“No! Stop! Please!”

His body flailed on top of yours and you grunted, gasping for breath when his elbow slammed into your ribs. Jesus, he was heavier than he looked, his panicked writhing weight making it hard for you to breathe. You reached out, wrapping your arms around him, trying to stop his movements before he hurt you. You couldn’t bear to see that guilt devouring him again. He didn’t mean it, had no control of it, but he would never look at it that way.

“Eddie! Eddie, you’re safe,” you cried, holding onto him as tightly as you could but he was so much stronger than you and you couldn’t keep him still no matter how you tried. “I’m here. You’re safe. You’re with me. You’re not in that place. It’s okay. Just open your eyes, baby. Come back to me. It’s okay.”

Deep brown eyes shot open, darting around the room as if searching for any signs of danger, a wild animal ready to defend against a predator. His large hands gripped your arms tightly and when his eyes finally found yours, you could see as he visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, tense muscles in his face releasing. Then his hands were cupping your face, so gently, as if you were made of glass.

“Are you okay? I didn’t…did I hurt you?” he asked and your heart broke with the fear in his words, the tremble in his voice. This man, who was tormented every night by monsters you didn’t know, was more concerned for you than he was for himself.

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you assured him with a shake of your head, hands running up and down his back soothingly. “I’m fine. Really. Are you okay?”

“I’m…fuck. No. I’m never okay, am I? Okay people don’t turn into massive babies because of a little thunder and lightning, they don’t fight invisible monsters in their sleep every damn night, and they don’t have to worry that they’re going to hurt their girlfriend.”

“Eddie, it’s okay. I know what to do now. You haven’t hurt me since that first time.”

“Princess,” he huffed, pulling away from you, sitting up. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, all mussed, smushed down on one side from where his face had been pressed against you. “This is insane. You know that, right? You shouldn’t have to think up defensive tactics just to be able to sleep next to the guy you’re seeing.”

“It’s not a big deal, Eddie. It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Did you even sleep?” challenged Eddie, dark eyes shooting over to you. “Or did you lay awake just waiting for the moment that I lost my shit, getting ready to cover yourself in case of attack?”

“I wasn’t sleeping but it had nothing to do with that. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what? How you made a massive fucking mistake deciding to date someone as unstable as me?”

“Jesus, no,” you groaned, pulling yourself up next to him. Your arms came around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder. “Just thinking. Us women are quite known for that, you know. Men just lay down and conk out. Us women have to run through all the problems of the world first, not to mention our to-do lists and chastise ourselves for everything we didn’t get done on our to-do lists that are still on there for tomorrow now, and we have to think of all the ways we’ve failed that day. It’s a lot to run through and sometimes it makes for bad sleep. That’s all.”

Eddie’s cheek pressed against the top of your head, his fingers running along your forearm, the movement soothing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Each sweep of his fingers caused your eyelids to droop, the lack of sleep you'd been experiencing for the past week starting to catch up to you. Your body was desperate for some real rest, a full eight hours of uninterrupted slumber.

But there was only one way for you to get that and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t ask him not to stay over with you. His face, the expression of hurt that would be on it, flashed before your eyes and no. You couldn’t be the cause of that. You couldn’t be just one more person who couldn’t accept him for who he was. You wanted him, wanted this, in spite of all of his baggage. And if that was the case, then you needed to heft up some of the load and figure out how to make it work.

“Hey, come here,” he whispered, twisting his torso to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into the safety of his chest. He sank back into the couch, bringing you with him, his lips brushing over your forehead. “You sleep for a bit, okay? I’ll stay awake this time.”

“No, it’s okay. You need…”

A calloused finger pressed against your lips, “You need sleep, too. Let me be the one who’s got you right now, okay? Just close your eyes and relax. No alarms need to be set. No big schedule or to-do list for today. It’s Saturday. Just get some rest. I couldn’t go back to sleep right now if I wanted to, anyway.” Eddie shifted and then you heard the sound of the tv, turned low, through the sleep that was pulling you under. “Just sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”

And then you were gone, Eddie’s heartbeat your own perfect lullaby, sending you off to peaceful dreams.

____________________________________________________________

“Come on,” Eddie whined, dragging you behind him, your feet rushing to keep up with his long strides, toward his van.

“Where are we going?” you laughed, feeling much more yourself after a solid seven hours of sleep.

Eddie had let you sleep until eleven. You'd woken to the smell of bacon beckoning you to the kitchen where Eddie stood in his boxers, frying eggs and popping Eggos down into the toaster, a sight you could definitely get used to. All lean lines, long limbs, and inked skin. You could not think of a single thing more beautiful than Eddie at that moment. You'd enjoyed a large breakfast where he’d been bouncing like a kid who was getting ready to head off to the amusement park and just couldn’t wait, pressing you to eat faster.

He’d told you that he had a big surprise for you but he would not tell you what it was. So, you had headed in for what was supposed to be a quick shower but became anything but when Eddie decided to join you. Borrowing one of his Iron Maiden tees, pairing it with the shorts you'd worn yesterday, you had brushed out your hair and called it good because Eddie appeared to be in a rush.

“Eddie, seriously,” you laughed as he ushered you into the passenger seat and then raced around to the driver’s seat. “What are you in such a hurry for?”

He turned to you, eyebrows raising and dropping dramatically, that grin taking up his entire face. “You’ll see.”

What in the world was he up to? Eddie turned up the music, hands drumming along to ‘Sacrifice’ by Motorhead. The windows were down, a warm breeze moving through the van on this perfect late spring day. You tilted your head, your arm propped on the frame of the door, closing your eyes, relishing the feel of the warm sun beating down, the wind rushing through your damp hair.

School was going to be out in just one week. Come Friday when that bell rang, you would be facing ten glorious weeks of freedom. Two months ago that had sounded like hell. Ten weeks of nothing ahead of you. Ten weeks of working on whatever house projects you could scrounge up the money for just to keep yourself busy. Ten weeks to dwell on all the ways your life had gone wrong, how you were thirty and all alone and that wasn’t likely to change soon.

But now, you were looking forward to all that time. Time you could spend with your new friends. Time you could spend with Eddie. Yes, you still planned on doing some things around your house. But now instead of sitting alone in your house with a carton of Chinese food and television, you could picture cookouts and bonfires in the backyard with friends. Instead of silent mornings, drinking your coffee on the couch while reading a book, you could see you and Eddie staying in bed far too late, wrapped up in each other, before tumbling out to make pancakes. You could see long, hot days spent at the lake, strolling with Eddie through town as ice cream dripped down your fingers, Tuesday nights sitting at The Hideout watching his band play. The future suddenly looked bright, as if someone had changed the bulb, shining light into the dull dreariness that your life had been.

“So, before we get to this surprise, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” Eddie announced, turning the volume down to conversation level.

“Okay.”

He looked so nervous, tongue dancing around the corner of his mouth, his fingers gripping and loosening around the steering wheel. You turned in your seat a bit, noticing those little lines between his eyebrows, the ones you always wanted to smooth out with your fingers when they appeared. Something was making him nervous and you weren't sure if you should be too.

“I told my uncle about us.”

“Okay. Is that a bad thing? I mean, everyone else knows, right? So he’d find out eventually.”

“Yeah, no. I mean, it’s not a bad thing. Trust me, the old man is thrilled. I mean, he’s ready to throw a party and invite the entire town to celebrate the fact that I am finally dating someone seriously. He was convinced I was going to be living alone in that house, yelling at kids when they walked through my grass, angry and spiteful at everybody, hating the entire world. So, trust me, he might just be happier than anyone else.”

You laughed, picturing a crotchety old Eddie, waves that had long gone white billowing behind him, as he shook his cane at kids. His cane wouldn’t just be any old cane either. No. It would be something impressive, ebony wood with some crude silver topper, maybe a hog’s head or a skull to match his rings.

“Alright, so what’s the problem then?”

“The problem is that he’s been bugging me. Hell, he’s been harassing me every day since I told him to bring you over there for dinner so he can meet you.”

“But we met,” you laughed, remembering that day. The gentle, kind man so opposite from Eddie’s surly and rough demeanor. The man who’d had a glimmer of hope in his eyes that you were more than just some girl Eddie brought around to see a car. “Doesn’t he remember me coming over there to look at the car?”

“Yes, but he wants to meet you as my girlfriend,” snorted Eddie, rolling his eyes. “Like you’re a completely different person now that we’re dating or something. Look, we don’t have to do it. I can come up with some excuse if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of meeting the parent. I mean, I know we haven’t been dating that long and it’s probably weird, right? Is it weird?”

“No, it’s not weird,” you answered, meaning it. You were genuinely touched that his uncle wanted to invite you over, that Eddie seemed to want you to get to know the man who raised him. “I mean, when were you thinking about doing dinner?”

“Tonight.”

“Oh…” You trailed off, your stomach suddenly knotting up with nerves. Yes, you'd met the guy but that had been as just some girl that Eddie was bringing to possibly buy his car. This man meant everything to Eddie. You wanted to go. You wanted to go because Eddie wanted you to but if you made the wrong impression, if his uncle didn’t like you, would Eddie still want to date you?

“Like I said, we don’t have to,” Eddie reminded, his hand coming to find yours, fingers slipping between your own. “I can just try to deter him for a while longer until you’re ready. But I want you, he is pretty stubborn so it might not be long before he shows up on your doorstep.”

“No. I want to,” you stated, nodding and you did. You just didn’t want to say or do anything wrong. “We can have dinner with him tonight. Your uncle seems like a great guy.”

“That he is. He can come off as a little gruff,” Eddie chortled, shaking his head. “But he’s a big ass softy.”

“Hmm…sounds like someone else I know,” you teased with a smile.

The van turned onto the main road and then Eddie was pulling into a spot right in front of Melvald’s, the local general store. You knew that Will’s mom, Joyce, worked there. You'd met her the day you'd headed into town to buy a few things for the house. But you couldn’t figure out what Eddie would be so excited about at a general store.

“We’re going to Melvald’s?” you asked, confused.

“No, we’re going next door.”

Eddie pointed out of his windshield and your eyes tracked it, landing on a sign that read ‘Hawkins Animal Shelter.’ Why would they be…then it hit you. You turned to him, jaw dropped, eyes wide.

“Eddie, no…”

“I thought since your ex is a massive dickbag who took your dog that you might want another furry companion to cuddle.” He shrugged, that cute little smirk you loved so much curving his lips as he shook his hair. “I mean, besides me, of course. Look, maybe I’m overstepping but the idea just came to me this morning. I was watching you sleep and…”

“You were watching me sleep? Creepy, much?” you joked with a grin.

“Yeah, well, I am the town freak, sweetheart. Gotta live up to the name. But anyway, I was watching you and thinking how damn lucky I am to have found you, someone who is willing to put up with all my bullshit and my neurotic behavior. Anyway, I wanted to do something nice for you. And I didn’t want to do flowers or chocolate or that boring shit guys usually do. And then it came to me. You miss your dog. So, I thought maybe you’d like to find a new little guy who needs someone to love.”

“That is…” Your voice broke and you cleared your throat. “That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me. But Eddie, you don’t have to thank me for anything. I just want to be here for you.”

“No, I know. I know you do. I just…you know, I’m not good at always saying shit. And I just want you to know how much it means to me that you haven’t gone running for the hills yet. Because nobody would blame you if you did. I’m a lot. I know I am.”

“You’re not a lot. You’re just enough. Eddie Munson, you’re perfect.”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, “Sweetheart, did you get into my stash because…”

“Stop it,” you laughed, swatting at him.

“Alright, you ready to go find a new friend?”

“Yes!” you squealed, hopping out of the van.

Eddie grinned as he came around to you, his arms circling your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. His finger booped your nose.

“You are fucking adorable when you’re excited.”

You were probably smiling like an idiot but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because this man enjoyed you, all of your quirks and your flaws. He didn’t mind if you used your teacher voice, didn’t care that stupid things made you giddy, wasn’t bothered when you randomly broke out into song because everything reminded you of a lyric. All things that Cam used to hate but Eddie only seemed to find endearing.

His hand trailed down to the small of your back, guiding you into the shelter. You were greeted by a cacophony of barks, a symphony of high and low, but all sounding very excited to possibly have new friends visiting. A young guy who looked to be in his early twenties approached you with a warm smile.

“Hi there. Are we looking for a new four-legged friend today?”

“She is,” Eddie told him.

“And do we know about what size of dog we want?”

Your cheeks puffed up and then you released a long breath, “No idea. I don’t really care. I just want a dog that’s mine.”

“Something bigger,” Eddie answered and when you looked up at him in confusion, he shrugged one shoulder and added, “you know, for protection.”

“Protection? What do I need protected from in Hawkins?”

“Stop assuming that this place is safe just because it’s a small town,” Eddie told you, his tone far more serious than seemed necessary. “You have no idea the things that…look, bad things can happen anywhere, right? It doesn’t matter. Big cities and small towns. You live all alone. Would it be the worst idea to have a bigger dog?”

“No. I guess not. I’m not against a bigger dog. I mean, Marley was a husky.”

“Husky, you say? Well, then I may have just the buddy for you,” the guy told you, gesturing for the two of you to follow him into the back.

Kennel after kennel ran along the wall. Sweet little faces, standing on their back legs, paws up on the bars, greeted you as you walked by and you wondered how you would ever pick just one to save and bring home. You wanted to unlock every single gate and tell the guy to load them all up in the back of the van but you knew you couldn’t. You didn’t have the room or the money for all of that.

“This guy just came in yesterday. They found him wandering around out by where the old lab used to be.” You seemed to be the only one who noticed Eddie stiffen, the guy completely oblivious to the change in his body language. “The best we can guess is he’s got some husky and doberman in him. So, he’d made a great guard dog. We’ve named him Reese because of the black and brown. Get it? Like Reeses Cups?”

“Yeah, we get it,” Eddie snorted.

“Of course, you can change that name if you’d like. He’s not used to it yet as he’s only been here a day. He seems young. We’re thinking maybe four months old.”

He opened the door of the kennel and the young pup came bounding out. You knelt down to the floor and he lunged at you, wet kisses all over your face and just like that, you were in love. Giggles rose from your belly as you ran your hand down his fur and he spun in a circle before sitting down in your lap.

“I would say it looks like we’ve found a match,” the guy beamed.

“He clearly seems to think so,” chuckled Eddie, squatting next to you to scratch behind his ears. “So, what do you think?”

“I think I love him already,” you breathed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I would say the feeling’s mutual. He’s already staking his claim,” laughed the guy.

“Alright. Well, let’s just get something clear, my little furry friend,” Eddie told the pup, taking his face in his hands. “You have to share. No staking claims. She was mine first.”

Reese tilted his head from one side to the other as if he could understand Eddie’s words. Then he lurched forward, paws flat into Eddie’s chest, and the man was on his back, Reese covering his face in kisses as he laughed.

“I would say he’s a winner,” you told the guy happily. “So, what do we have to do?”

“Just some paperwork to fill out. We get him up to date on all of his shots for you and get him fixed. He just got here yesterday so we haven’t had a chance. Our vet will be taking a look at him on Monday. So, you should be able to take him home by the end of next week.”

“Alright. Give me the papers,” you stated, watching with amusement as Reese bounded all around Eddie before jumping on him once again. It looked like you weren't the only one the dog was staking claim to.

___________________________________________________________

“Finally!” Uncle Wayne announced loudly as he swung the door of the trailer open. “I have been bugging him to bring you over. I never thought he was gonna do it. This nephew of mine doesn’t seem to want to share you, wants to hide you.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes at his uncle. “We’ve barely decided we’re in a relationship. You act like I’ve been seeing her for a year.”

“Still, glad he finally brought you over. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting any of Ed’s girls. He’s never brought them around. You’d think he’s ashamed of this old man or something.” He winked, elbowing Eddie gently in the ribs to let him know he was kidding around.

“No, I never brought anyone around because I never had a girl,” Eddie stated.

“Oh, there’ve been girls.”

“No. There’s been flings. I’ve never had anyone I was serious enough about to warrant bringing them over to meet you.”

Wayne’s eyebrows lifted, teeth flashing as he grinned, “Serious, huh? So this thing here is serious? Well, that’s damn nice to hear. It’s about time. I thought Eight Ball was going to get a slew of new friends when you became an old bachelor just like your uncle.”

“Eight Ball?” you asked.

A small meow greeted you, a black cat appearing from behind the recliner, beckoned at the sound of his name. He gracefully pawed his way over, rubbing himself in between your legs. You knelt down, running your hand over his sleek fur, smiling when he purred in response, bright green eyes closing in contentment as he nuzzled his face into your palm.

“That’s Eight Ball,” Wayne explained, swinging his hand in the direction of the cat.

“What a funny name for a cat,” you laughed. “What made you decide to name him that?”

“I didn’t name him nothing,” he told you, pointing at Eddie. “This guy’s the one who picked the name.”

“I found him by the dumpster behind the pool hall,” Eddie explained with a shrug, kneeling next to you, one finger coming out to rub under the sweet kitty’s chin. “I had slipped out back for a smoke and this little guy came right up, rubbing all over me. I pet him and tried to go back in but he followed me. I thought he might be hungry so I snuck inside and stole some ground beef from the kitchen. After that, it was a done deal. The cat was on my heels, followed me to my van, meowing, looking at me with those big old eyes. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t leave him out there. It was January in Indiana and cold as hell. Little guy could have frozen to death if I didn’t bring him home.”

“Yeah. I come home from work in the morning, dead tired on my feet, and almost step on this guy as he darts between my feet, demanding food. I wound up falling on my ass, staring at this cat, wondering where the hell he came from,” Wayne chuckled. “Didn’t take me long to figure out it was Eddie. He was always trying to bring home strays. He fed a damn raccoon once and the thing wouldn’t leave, kept coming around, getting into the garbage. I yelled for him and he came stumbling out, half asleep. I asked him what the hell this cat was doing in my trailer. I had every intention of telling him to get it out of here but he turned those damn sad eyes on me and I couldn’t say no.”

“The cat?”

“No, Eddie!” Wayne harrumphed. “I’m sure he’s used that look on you, those eyes like a damn baby deer, looking all sad and shit. He knows how to pull at the heartstrings with those things. I’ve never been able to say no to him. Those eyes got him out of a lot of trouble, let me tell you. Never could stay mad at him for long.”

You smiled, glancing over at Eddie who smirked, lifting one shoulder. Oh yeah. You knew exactly what eyes Wayne was talking about. Those eyes could melt you into a puddle on the spot. Those eyes had you completely wrapped around his finger. You weren't sure there was anything you could deny him if he asked.

“So, if he’s Eddie’s cat, why didn’t you take him when you moved out?” you asked, rising to your feet as Eddie sat down, folding his legs, the cat curling up in his lap.

“Because that old man can say whatever he wants but he loves this cat. He bitched about him all the time. He was under his feet. He was in his bed. He scratched up the couch. But then I would come home to find him napping in the recliner, Eight Ball curled up on his chest. I felt bad about leaving him here all alone so this way, he’s got a friend.” The cat rubbed his cheek against Eddie’s and Eddie planted a kiss on his nose. “Huh? Doesn’t he, buddy? You’re Uncle Wayne’s best pal, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess he grew on me. Well, come and have a seat. Dinner should be ready.” Wayne’s hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously, a habit that seemed quite familiar. “We uh…well, we don’t have a large enough table for all of us so I thought we could eat at the coffee table. Sorry. Don’t usually have more than Ed over for meals. Would that be alright?”

“That’s perfect,” you assured him, recognizing the embarrassment he was feeling at how small his trailer was. “I have a table but I eat at my coffee table all the time.”

“Well, alright then. Have a seat and I’ll bring in the plates. I made a pot roast. Hope that’s good.”

“That sounds perfect. Do you need any help?”

“Oh no. I got it. I’m not as old as Ed likes to make me out to be, you know. Just go relax and I’ll bring everything in.”

Eddie stood up, placing Eight Ball onto the floor, brushing his hands on his jeans. The cat looked offended but sauntered off into a room in the back of the trailer. Eddie followed you over, sitting down on the floor next to you. His hand covered your knee as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, soft and sweet and leaving you wanting more.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly enough to not be heard over the clanging of plates as Wayne assembled their dinner.

“Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take that kind of thank you any time you want to give it but for what?”

“For being you, for not making a big deal about my uncle living in a trailer or eating at the coffee table.”

“Why would I make it a big deal? It’s not a big deal. It’s just a table. And who cares where he lives? Personally, I love this trailer. It’s so cozy. I love his little collection of ball caps and mugs. It makes it feel like a home, like a place where you can just be comfortable.”

Eddie laughed, “Yeah, well not everyone thinks like that. Why do you think you’re the first girl I've ever brought around here?”

“I thought it was because I was the first one you were serious about,” you teased. “Or were you just saying that for his benefit?”

“No, that’s definitely a big part of it. But even when I still lived here, I never brought a girl around that I was seeing. Hell, sometimes when I told them where I lived, they’d get this look, you know? Like they smelled something bad and that something was me. Of course, the town already knew where I lived so some girls said shit anyway. They’d rather hook up in the back of my van or in the middle of the woods or the alley behind the bar…”

You clasped his lips between your fingers, “Eddie, I get it. I know you’re no virgin and have a lot more experience than me. And that’s fine but I’d really rather not listen to you laundry list all of the places you’ve had sex or how many girls you’ve had it with.”

He smiled, his lips flattening in your fingers and you laughed because he looked so ridiculous. You let go and he nipped at your hand playfully.

“Sorry. My foot and my mouth need to be way less friendly with each other,” he sighed. “Harrington tries to tell me to think about what I’m saying first but the thought just shoots right from my brain and out of my mouth before I can do anything about it. Anyway, it means a lot that you’re not making my uncle feel uncomfortable about what he has.”

“Of course not. Eddie, the richest men in the world can be the unhappiest. They can also be absolute pricks. Money does not define a person. Your uncle seems pretty damn happy. His face absolutely lights up when he sees you. You are obviously his favorite thing ever.” You leaned in close, your forehead pressing against his. “And I know the feeling quite well.”

The smile he gave you could have lit up the whole town. It was like a sunspot emerging through the canopy of trees in a dark forest. It was pure light, a glow from within that radiated everywhere, warming everything that it touched. His eyes lit up with the beauty of that smile and you swore, right then, that you would do everything you could to make him smile like that every single day.

“Where in the hell did you come from?” mused Eddie, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Galena, Illinois,” you said with a grin.

“Galena, huh?” asked Uncle Wayne as he set two plates of food in front of them. Pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, and gravy: a feast that had your tummy rumbling in hunger. “I drove through there one time on my way to Chicago for a Stones concert.”

“You saw the Stones?” asked Eddie, wasting no time digging in, scooping a heapful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “How have you never told me that?”

Wayne shrugged as he walked in with his own plate, plopping down in his recliner, leaning forward, “Never came up and you never asked, I guess.”

“How could I ask about something I didn’t know about? And never came up? I play music. I love music. I am in a band. How would it not come up that you’ve seen the Stones play live?”

“I don’t know. It just never did. It was…” His face crinkled in thought, deep furrows appearing on his forehead. “It must have been ‘64, I think. Went with a bunch of friends of mine. Hell of a night. Hell of a morning after too.”

He chuckled and Eddie glanced over at you in amusement, “Party a little too hard there, old man?”

“You could say that. Of course I wasn’t an old man then. There was some drinking…and some other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Eddie questioned, interest piqued as his body leaned in, effectively blocking you from your food. “What other stuff?”

“I may have tried a little LSD that night,” Wayne admitted and when Eddie gasped, he held his hand out, shaking his head. “It was the ‘60s. Everyone was trying every damn thing. It was just the once. Man, I swore I was hearing colors and seeing the music. It was the trippiest fucking thing ever. I didn’t like it. Don’t like losing control of my faculties. Swore I’d never do it again.”

“All those times you’d lecture me about drugs…” Eddie clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I did because I know what they do. Not that you ever listened for all the good it did.”

“Oh, it was just marijuana. Shit, man, not even I have done LSD.”

“Well, good for you. There’s one thing you haven’t tried,” Wayne scoffed, spearing a hunk of roast.

“There’s loads of things I haven’t tried. Even I drew the line at needles.”

Your eyes went wide, “Well, I guess at least you have a limit.”

“I mean, I don’t do any of that shit anymore. Well, weed, but that’s it and that’s barely even a drug. I haven’t done Coke or Special K or X in years. And I never touched heroin or meth. That shit would fuck you up. I watched a couple guys lose everything because of it. I’m not scared of needles but the shit they’d mix in that stuff without you knowing could kill you with one dose. No thanks, man.”

“Well, now, how about we switch over to a more dinner appropriate topic?” Wayne urged and you had to agree. “So sweetheart, tell me about yourself. Ed here doesn’t like to share much so I don't know anything about you except that you’re a teacher.”

“Umm, well, I mean, I don’t know what else there is to tell. I’m really not that interesting.”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed, “Now that can’t be true, not if my Eddie likes you so much. Something piqued his interest. What brought you here from Galena?”

“Oh, I got a job offer at Hawkins Elementary and decided to take it,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your water. “I mean, there’s not much more to the story. I didn’t particularly choose Hawkins. I was just looking for a fresh start and when they offered me the teaching position, this seemed as good a place as any.”

Wayne sat back, folding his hands over his stomach, “Well, now, in my experience if someone needs a fresh start, there’s a reason. Was there a reason?”

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie muttered in warning, those dark eyes flashing up at his uncle.

But the warning wasn’t necessary. It made sense that he would be curious about the girl who was dating his nephew. Besides, he was bound to find out eventually that Eddie was dating a divorcee. What did it matter if you told him now or in six months?

When it had first happened, you had been humiliated, embarrassed, and didn't want to show your face. You hated having to open your mouth and admit what you'd allowed your husband and best friend to do. To admit that you'd been dumb enough to not know. But now, sitting here with Eddie, you found it didn’t really matter anymore. Because, if Cam and Cassie had never done what they did, you wouldn’t have come to Hawkins. You wouldn’t have all the new friends you'd made and you wouldn’t have Eddie. So, really, even if it hadn’t felt like it at the time, your ex husband and ex best friend had done you a favor.

Besides, it wasn’t your shame. You hadn’t been the one to betray your marriage, to throw your decade long friendship out the window. You hadn’t been the one who had schemed, lied, and done something that would hurt someone you loved. You were done being ashamed. You were done being embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” you told Eddie, laying your hand on his arm. “Actually, I came to Hawkins because I had to get out of my old town. My husband and my best friend were having an affair behind my back. It went on for a year and I walked in on them. I left him and we’re divorced now. But I just couldn’t stay in that town with all of those people knowing, looking at me like I was someone to be pitied. I wanted somewhere new where no one knew me or what I’d been through. So, when the job offer came around, I jumped at the chance.”

“Well, I am mighty sorry that happened to you. That’s a real shitty thing for someone to do but it sure seems like it worked out well for you,” Wayne commented with a kind smile. “And for my boy. So, as much as those two deserve to be whipped for what they did, I’m sure glad they did. I ain’t seen a smile like that on that boy’s face in far too long.”

“Damn, you really gotta just call me out like that?” Eddie huffed, shaking his head.

“Damn right, I do. You know how long I been waiting for you to be happy? Way too damn long. It does this old man’s heart good to see you like that, to know I don’t need to be worrying about you in that house all alone, cutting yourself off from the world.”

“Hawkins isn’t the world,” argued Eddie.

“It’s your world. You chose to stay here so this is your world, kid. I know you got all those friends and they’re mighty fine people. I’m so grateful you had all of them looking out for you when this town was gunning for your head. I’m more than grateful for Hop making sure all those charges were dropped, proving you were innocent. Good man. Always been a good man.”

“I had you. You were more than enough,” Eddie told him. “You’ve always been more than enough.”

“That’s mighty nice of you to say. I tried my hardest to be everything you needed but I knew I could never fill the holes left behind by your parents. I worry about you, kid. I can’t help it. Don’t matter if you’re sixteen or sixty. I am always going to worry about you. But maybe I don’t need to lose so much sleep now that you’ve got someone. Someone who will be there all the time. You planning on sticking around, sweetheart?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, squeezing Eddie’s knee, receiving a smile in return, his hand coming to cover yours. “Eddie couldn’t chase me away if he tried.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s done that already. My boy is nothing if not stubborn and self-sabotaging. Thinks he don’t deserve anything good. The truth is, he deserves everything good and more.”

Eddie flushed bright red as you agreed, saying, “He deserves the world.”

“Yeah, well I don’t need the world,” he mumbled, looking up at you from under those impossibly long lashes as he squeezed your hand, implying what he struggled to put into words.

“So, how are you at playing Rummy?” asked Wayne, rising from his seat with his plate in hand.

“Oh, I think I’m pretty good,” you told him, grinning. “My family and I used to have game nights every Thursday night. Rummy was one of our favorites and I won quite often.”

“Well now, sweetheart, those are fighting words. Eddie, go get the cards.”

“Uh-oh, you’re in for it now,” Eddie teased, lips pouting, eyebrows raising. “My uncle is a shark when it comes to Rummy. He appears to be a sweet old man but he’s got a nasty competitive streak.”

“Bring it on,” you replied with a grin.

Chapter 20

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teawithnosugar · 11 months

Text

Terrified Her

! Pairings ,' Toxic!Ellie x Chronically ill!Reader ! CW ,' angst, Ellie is kind of toxic???, anxiety??? not the best depiction of a heart disease, open ending ! words ,' 1.4k ! synopsis ,' Ellie is constantly pushing you away and your already weak heart can't take it anymore ! song ,' You're Losing Me - Taylor Swift

"I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy"

! AN ,' not happy with how this turned out, still practicing after years of writer's block so feedback is appreciated <3

“My god- just fuck off for once!”

The words echoed in your ears like a piercing scream, shaking the fragile peace of your farmhouse. Barely a week had passed since your return from Santa Barbara, yet the tension between you and Ellie had grown unbearable. Each time those harsh words spilled from her lips, they struck your heart with the force of a jagged stone.

“We can’t keep going on like this Els, we need to talk about this, I can help you.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, and Ellie stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. She never strayed too far, merely pacing around the farm, choosing to sleep beneath the stars instead of finding solace by your side. So you retreated to the bedroom, sleeping alone once again. Silently, tears streamed down your face, just as they had during the treacherous journey to Santa Barbara and back. You had mastered the art of stifling your sobs and sniffles, not wanting to further upset Ellie. That was a mistake on your part, creating a barrier that held her back from comprehending the agony that her relentless quest for vengeance caused you.

The morning arrived, Ellie's absence was noticeable until you found yourself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. With puffy eyes, you cast a pointed glare at her as she walked into your home. You needed to let her know that this was wrong. But when she gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek and ever so casually asked what you were making, you almost crumbled then and there beneath the weight of her indifference or feigned ignorance of the profound anguish you bore down deep.

You held it together though, as always, and gave her a soft answer, afraid to use too much energy in speaking as it was already taking everything in you to keep it together.

“Some pancakes…it’s all I could make with what we have right now.”

She hummed in response, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind as you cooked. Resting her head on your shoulder, she seemed lost in thought, oblivious to how tightly she held onto you. Her embrace that used to comfort you greatly now suffocated you, literally. She was clearly still grappling with the events in Santa Barbara. Ellie had been frustrated for years, always yearning to seek revenge. Now that she was back home, she felt so alone, and that killed you because you were right there, begging for her to see you.

But now, you were softly begging for her to let go, wincing a little because her grip had opened a few stitches of wounds earned during your trip.

"Shit, sorry," she quickly let go, hurrying to retrieve the first-aid kit from the bathroom when she noticed blood seeping through your shirt. You turned off the stove and perched on the counter, patiently waiting for her to return.

You slipped your shirt off, to make it easier for you both. Once you got a look at the wound, only a few stitches had come undone but you took blood thinners due to the heart condition you had and it caused an excessive flow of crimson.

Ellie wordlessly positioned herself between your legs, tending to the wound with delicate hands and having to do very minor stitches. Her brows furrowed in worry and lips pursed in concentration, guilt filled her eyes as she adamantly avoided meeting your gaze.

In moments like these, you caught a glimpse of the Ellie you fell in love with all those years ago in Jackson—the one hidden beneath the walls you now saw, your Ellie.

Your Ellie, once so tender and serene, always playing your favorite songs and filling her notebook with drawings of you. Now her guitar sits silently in the corner, its strings wounded by her injury. And she had grown weary, devoid of the energy to birth new art. Whenever she opens her notebook, it's only to revisit old memories. Once, she left it out on the table, and it was hard not to notice the prominent tear stains that marked its pages, like a sad reminder of lost joy.

Even when she finished patching you up, she lingered before you, her presence marked by silence, her hands trembling ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but ask a soft “you okay Els?”

In an instant, her expression changed dramatically. She emitted a small, exasperated groan before abruptly leaving the room, a bitter remark escaping her lips, “I’m fine, stop fucking asking.”

You just closed your eyes, trying to steady the resounding heartbeat that you could hear in your ears. You swallowed thickly once you composed yourself, ignoring the pins and needles you felt on your forehead and fingertips.

You quickly abandoned the half-prepared meal and walked in front of her where she sat on the couch. You slipped on a shirt from a pile of clean laundry next to her. Silently, you stood before her, though she made it abundantly clear that she would ignore you, rolling her eyes and meticulously cleaning her already gleaming firearm.

“Ellie…please…we need to talk about this…I’ve been so understanding…let me into the pretty little head of yours.” You whispered softly, voice a gentle plea as you put a gentle hand on her hair, which she quickly swatted away as she rose from the couch.

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m fucking fine”

“You’re not fine!” You shouted, causing her to freeze because you never raised your voice at her before.

“Just…leave me alone Y/N…” she sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Are you sure you want me to do that? Cause if you want me to leave you alone, I’m going to fucking leave.” Your voice resonated with firmness, but your eyes begged her for any kind of communication, to tell you she wanted you there.

Her eyes widened slightly and her mouth opened and closed a few times as she struggled to find the words she sought but all that left her mouth was a soft and pathetic “I don’t understand.”

“Clearly,” you muttered under your breath before shaking your head softly and sighing. “I’m getting tired Els, I’m here to help you. I’ve done nothing but fight by your side…so stop ignoring me…” You took a few steps closer to the brunette. Every step you took, a warmth blossomed within Ellie's chest, a familiarity she hadn't felt since Joel’s death. It absolutely terrified her, bringing back memories from when she had everything, reminding her of everything she had lost yet again, so she snapped.

You had no idea what she was shouting at you, and neither did she. She screamed at you words that she hadn’t even processed before they left her lips. You didn’t know when it happened but you were now standing, back against the wall as she pinned you, her arms enclosing you in as she spewed words she didn’t even mean.

Her glare alone caused you to instinctively shrink, your heart pounding so forcefully that all you could hear was the ringing in your ears. You wanted to tell her to stop, that you felt like you were going to faint, but you felt frozen on the spot.

You had a heart condition, a condition that demanded caution, and yet you followed Ellie across the country despite the dangers. But it was not the infected or violent people that quickened your heartbeat in an unhealthy manner; it was Ellie, right within the safety of your home. Ellie just had that effect on you

It’s only when you let out a strained cough, doubling over against her, did she finally realize the extent of her rampage and fell silent.

She immediately lowers both of you to the floor, cradling you in her arms.

You desperately tried to breathe and she did everything she could to help, holding your hand and whispering sweet words. She kept you close to her chest, trying to calm you down. As your breathing gradually steadied, absolutely drained, you closed your eyes, falling asleep in her arms.

Ellie fought back tears as she held you because she realized that while she mourned the losses she had endured, you had been silently mourning your relationship which wasn’t even over yet and that was all her fault. Her thoughts spun wildly, attempting to etch the feeling of your weight on her and your scent into her memory, unsure if you’d grant her such intimacy like this again when you wake up. That terrified her.

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader

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