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alicerosejensen · 6 months

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Something about sin. Pt.3

Warning: Age difference, Older!Leon, Reader daughter of another DSO agent, fem.reader, mention of sex, guilt.

A/N: The penultimate part. The second part was chaotic and probably the weakest, but it is what it is. I’m still trying to overcome my chronic fatigue and constant apathy, so if it’s not difficult for you, please write a few kind words if you liked this text.

I still decided that there would be four parts instead of three. The final chapter will probably be smaller in volume, but it will have a lot of dialogues and the resolution of the conflict itself, so I decided that it would be better to write it separately and not in one large text.

Once again, I apologize for the delay in publication, but sometimes our health fails us all.

Part 1

Part 2

And he would burn in hell for all the lust he feels for this lost innocent soul.

Your father would never forgive him for this, just as Leon will not forgive himself for having you in his arms. Albeit of his own free will, but getting out of bed, going to the bath and rinsing his face with cold water, Leon prefers to take all the blame on himself. You are innocent... you were innocent and he stretched out his dirty hands to you, put you into his bed three months after that kiss in the barn and, no matter how disgusting it may sound, slept with you.

The most tender, most precious girl he's ever had of all, he knows that he would have made the same decision every time if God had brought him back to the day he kissed you, allowing himself to desire you. That's why it's nice to come back to bed with you, even if it's soul-destroying from himself.

You destroyed him thoroughly.

You are his sin, a sweet obsession and a mad desire designed to crush all the little that he has managed to build in his hectic life. You mock him, tear him apart so that he pursues you and falls into this sinful ocean of passion without regrets. And Leon can't do anything to himself. He was older than you, almost twice as old, well, that was fine with you. The feeling of comfort and security never left while Leon was around, as if it was something you needed all your life. As he lay back in bed, he replayed your dialogue in his head. It's one thing to kiss while muffling the egregious voice in his own head that it's not worth it, and it's completely another to insert dick into his friend's daughter.

Leon was the first in every way for you and he understood it perfectly without words. It's not that your dad forbade you to date boys, but maybe your father's attention really wasn't enough if you reciprocated his feelings?

"I could be your father… Your father and I are the same age…"

"But still, you're not my father," you smiled then, begging him with puppy eyes to teach you love and move on to something more than ordinary kisses, which of course you were crazy about, but you want to understand what it's like to be with someone you love, even if he's much older than you.

You promised him that you were ready for more, for a new stage, and Leon continued to feel as if he was seducing a young girl, doing something dirty and vicious with you, something against your will. This, of course, was not the case, but the anxiety did not go away. Asking to think about this decision, to weigh everything, led nowhere, and in the end everything happened.

"Are you sure you want this?; Are you sure?; we can stop, sweetie, at any time you want"

His voice, saturated with anxiety, accompanied you throughout your first sex with him, and it was never as described in the books... however, this was not surprising and you knew very well that what is on the pages and in films differs greatly in real life. And yet, it's good that you got Leon and not someone else, because he took care of your feelings, trying to prepare you in such a way as to reduce all discomfort to a minimum: gentle kisses, a prepared bottle of lubricant, long intimacy , careful touches. All his movements were careful and together with you, he essentially got to know your body, trying to help you and himself understand what you would like in sex. he allowed you to touch him, showed how he liked it, smiling, kissing you on the corner of your lips, seeing the embarrassment on your beautiful face.

"My dear, do you remember?" his reminders constantly sounded while his thumb caressed your swollen clit with round movements, "I will stop as soon as you say"

How could you forget? Leon was catching every emotion on your face, afraid to catch the pain, but it was good for you. It's better than if it was a guy your age who didn't give a damn about you. Leon was doing everything right, but he was still a monster in his head. You liked it. There was no blood, none of the things your friends used to scare you with, but you didn't see the stars in the sky either, no matter how funny it sounded. Just because it was the first time and yet Leon left almost a thousand kisses on your face before and after sex. He took you to the shower, gently ran a sponge over your body, washing away all traces of intimacy, wrapped you in a towel and put you back to bed, not forgetting to bring a glass of water. You were sitting on his bed and the man's hands were firmly holding you by the waist while he weightlessly touched the bridge of your nose with his lips asking about your well-being. You could joke that you really feel a little unwell after sex, but seeing your lover's panic, it would be wise not to play him like that, otherwise this could be your first and last sex with him.

"I don't regret it," you said, hoping that it would take some weight off his shoulders.

Leon reassured himself that even if nothing came of this relationship, at least your first man was the one who took care of you and did not run away the next morning, managing to tell his friends about the new notch on bedpost.

.. But yes, now if your father finds out that you've been fucked, then a fist in the nose will be the most merciful thing Leon can ever get. Most likely, it will be an explosion of epic proportions and a shootout worse than Hollywood action movies. What should it tell him? "Buddy, but we can still drink beer and watch football, it's just that now I'm still sleeping with your daughter, whom you've been caring for and cherishing all his life?" This is shit, not an explanation. If his friend had once confessed to him that he was sleeping with HIS daughter, Leon would have killed the bastard and disposed of the corpse so that no evidence would be found. That's just that he is now the main culprit, and he does not want to leave your life when such a charming angel sleeps next to him in bed.

Leon doesn’t want to leave you, but he himself has no idea what outcome his actions will lead to. Hugging and pulling your body while you sleep, he kisses the back of your head, sincerely hoping that you won’t regret what happened between you, that you won’t cry in the morning, calling everything a mistake, but the devil is not as terrible as he is imagined...

A sound sleep was interrupted by caring strokes and soft kisses, although he is not a handsome prince, but he still got a sleeping beauty and it seems that the only thing you were unhappy with sitting with him at the kitchen table was that Leon woke you up too early. Like a gloomy owl with disheveled hair, you try to focus your gaze on coffee and not fall asleep while he says something and you ignore all his speeches until your name is called.

"Did you heard what I said?" and you honestly nod your head negatively to a heavy male sigh.

Trouble obviously doesn't come alone, fortunately you don't cry or curse him, instead you just snuggle up to his back and pull him back into the bedroom to sleep an extra couple of hours with him in your arms like the whole last night.

He was a good man. Not ideal, with his own problems, fears, experiences, but still he continued to care about you more than about himself, so he carefully turned to face you, hugging you, starting to gently rock you to the sides, burying his nose in the top of your head.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked still anxiously.

"All was good"

With Leon you could relax and trust him, last night he was perfectly prepared and constantly asked if you could continue or if he should stop, and you know that if you said yes, he would immediately end everything without caring about his feelings. The main thing is you! As a result, he treats you like a princess all day long, taking care of you. He even volunteered to comb your hair, which now smelled like his shampoo, and while Leon was fiddling with the comb, at the same time remembering the jokes that your father loves so much, you just laughed and enjoyed the complete adoration of his person.

“I’ll order food for us, and you relax on the couch. Choose the movie you want.”

Not surprisingly, Leon doesn’t know how to cook, he doesn’t have much time to improve this skill, but you don’t expect him to pick you up in his arms and put you on this very sofa, covering your legs with a blanket and handing you the TV remote control. Another girl obviously wouldn’t like it, but not you, although you didn’t feel helpless. There was some discomfort, but nothing scary or that would require consulting a doctor. As a result, the two of you spent another day lying cuddled on the couch, eating pizza, watching, flipping through channels and discussing various things. Despite the age difference, there was no feeling that Leon was some kind of ancient old man walking around with an ancient push-button telephone (although you assured him that there was nothing wrong with that). He smiled, playfully flicking you on the nose and it seems he even exhaled and came to reconciliation with his inner voice, but exactly until the moment when your father called.

And conscience woke up again.

He protected you, he didn't hurt you and took good care of you, Leon is ready as a faithful doggie to accept any thing you ask him, because he is...

It's worth admitting to yourself that this is not an affair because if Leon just wanted to sleep with someone, he went to a bar and found someone who wouldn't mind spending the night with him, and you are something more. He wants to cherish you and shower kisses on your face while you're lying serenely on his couch watching the show. A good excuse for the conscience that was gnawing into his brain and telling him that he was an ordinary son of a bitch, screaming: "Look, you took advantage of the poor girl's naivety. The daughter of your friend who supported you after China! How well did you repay his kindness by dragging his favorite daughter into bed!"

The phone rang but couldn't find the strength to answer.

You asked if everything was okay, to which Leon sighs and answers yes, asking not to worry. And then he gave you his sweater and you curled up next to him and fell asleep without caring about anything, because the thunderstorm with lightning no longer scared you both. And Leon really slept well for the first time in a long time, hugging you to his chest, knowing that when he wakes up he will find you where you fell asleep - with him.

No more notes with lipstick marks or paper airplanes on the nearby pillow. Besides, it’s so nice when you snuggle up to him at night, trying to hug him. Leon allows it. Your hands are much warmer. this makes him fall out of reality when he turns to you, wrapping a blanket around your body and pressing you to him so that you don’t freeze. It can rain outside as long as you like, his phone can ring off the hook with calls all night long, but his lips will still find yours and kiss you tenderly.

The forbidden fruit is very sweet.

For the first time in years, the government agent felt like he had something to treasure. Sometimes he envied your father for the fact that he could return to a cozy home where his beloved wife and daughter were always waiting for him, eat delicious home-cooked food and sleep in bed with his loved one. Not much is needed for happiness, according to Leon, and he would also like to receive this gift. But probably for you it's all just an affair. For children, you are young and he himself is not trying to knock you up. Besides, marriage is a matter that should be approached wisely, and neither you nor Leon are fools, so he doesn’t even console himself with the hope of a future together.

As a matter of fact, the matter is rubbish and Kennedy should not have put you to bed at all. How can he look your father in the eyes after what happened? And you? so Leon again does an even more disgusting thing - he ignores you.

You wrote him several messages, called him a couple of times, but the calls went unanswered, he didn’t even send a tiny message like “Sorry, work. I’ll call you later” or “I’ll call you when I’m free.” Yes, he could at least write something and not remain silent like a fuckboy who fucked half of the college! But you are not intruding, no, but this does not mean that you are not offended and you do not feel that you were simply used. For many months you felt this beautiful love for him, afraid to show it, but when the miracle happened, it turned out that the gingerbread house was not so sweet.

It was a complete failure, which brought you to tears, although you didn’t pester him with calls and messages because you didn’t want to look stupid, like the girls from high school who were chasing guys around. There should still be pride, but do you really have to pretend now that nothing happened between you? Actually, it wasn’t even that bad, right? he looked after you and didn’t throw you out of his apartment after sex; he was sweet and gentle, but no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself of this, the resentment still stuck like a bone in your throat.

Therefore, you locked yourself in a room and did not leave it for hours, and to all the requests of your parents you answered one thing "I feel not well", of course you managed to slip unnoticed into the toilet, but if your father saw this terribly swollen face from tears, then his weapon, which was always hidden from you when you were still a child, risked shooting someone- something in the balls, if your dad found out that the reason was a guy.

Although it would be more correct to say an adult man.

But your nightly sobs did not go unnoticed, and in the end, your dad really wanted to kick someone's ass because his babygirl was constantly crying due to a broken heart.

“If he somehow offended you, just tell me,” he asks, stroking your back soothingly, and you can’t even squeeze out a word, just cry. "And this little piece of shit will remember that he can’t offend my girl."

Your father’s words made you laugh through your tears and calm down a little. Although you were still terribly swollen with a huge nose from which snot flowed every now and then, thanks to the support of your close person, life no longer seems so spoiled. However, no matter how your dad tried to find out the name, you didn’t tell him anything about Leon.

After a couple of weeks, you were even able to calm down and have fun with friends, but still the image of Kennedy kept popping up in your head, haunting you both in your dreams and in reality, despite all your attempts to distract yourself. He never left you a single message, thereby forcing you to draw conclusions.

Your college classes will begin in the fall, so there is not much time left to rest, so you decided to make the most of the rest of the summer, but returning home you clearly hear the sound of cleaning weapons and a painfully familiar voice that raises a wave of anxiety in chest.

"...I swear to God I'll find out who this asshole, Leon." Your heart tries to jump out of your chest when you press your ear to the door of your father’s room where he keeps a gun and other things that are not for your eyes. Leon himself almost doesn’t answer and you honestly don’t even want to face him anymore because the resentment still bites painfully into your throat making your eyes water.

It's not good to eavesdrop, but what could you do with yourself? Part of you hoped that he felt at least some guilt for treating you so badly.

“He’s such an asshole...” Leon says quietly in an unnatural voice. "Definitely deserved the bullet"

Maybe he didn't deserve a bullet after all, your heart is not so cruel as to wish him dead, but you could slap him in the face, although you don't want to see him at all, so carefully moving away from the door, go upstairs to your room and lock yourself in it again hoping that Leon will leave before you get hungry. It took about two hours before stomach growled for food. A bar of chocolate in purse briefly saved the situation, which caused an almost opera orchestra of an empty stomach to resound throughout the room. As luck would have it, a delicious aroma came from the kitchen from below, from which wings almost literally grew behind your back and you flew down to try this freshly baked pasta. Your mom called you to the table a couple of times, but it looks like Leon didn't go anywhere, once again staying at dinner with your family, and how the hell did he end up in the same room with him?!

But you can't tell them that Leon is the guy who dumped you after the first sex.

Therefore, it went downstairs and met his guilty gaze. You didn't say a word to each other at dinner, although Leon asked neutral questions like are you okay? It's a shitty question, actually, and your want to throw this plate at his head so Leon's answer is a simple nod.

Your parents are sure it's about the boy who broke their daughter's heart, but they don't know that this "boy" is right in front of them. That makes Leon even more sick of himself, but what happened was clearly a mistake.

He had no right to drag a young girl into his bed, he had no right to touch you at all, and yet the vicious feeling turned out to be stronger than the mind. And yet Leon thinks you can easily overcome your first crush, because no matter how you look at it, this relationship is hopeless. He will not be able to marry you, will not create a family and the people around him will always condemn and most of their sidelong glances will be directed at you. Damn, your dad took out a loan so you could go to the college of your dreams and fall in love with someone like him, the worst possible idea.

"She'll find a better boyfriend in college," Leon said to your father that afternoon. Although he wanted to bite his tongue, because he didn't want to give you to some brat at all, but his mind kept saying that it would be the right thing to do. You deserve a quiet life, and everyone Leon gets attached to sooner or later leaves. Therefore, this time he decided to leave first. And yet he really acted no better than any jerk when he ignored you and your messages.

Dinner passed in tense silence. Your appetite disappeared and a piece wouldn’t go down your throat, which is why you offered to help your mom put the leftover food into the refrigerator, at the same time running away from Leon because tears were running down your cheeks by themselves. Standing in the kitchen, washing the dirty dishes, you were drowned in your thoughts, realizing that you were again sliding into the deep bottom of self-torture, because of this you did not hear the steps behind you, shuddering in surprise when Leon’s hands carefully placed them on your waist.

"Forgive me" It seems that he himself does not know how to choose the right words, but takes his hands away from you, looking around so that your parents do not hear this conversation "I know I acted like an asshole, but it's not going to work. It's wrong, God, you're old enough to be my daughter, and I don't know what I was thinking when I was doing this with you.

You're silent, turning away from him, continuing to wash the poor plate, and Leon is ready to swear that your silence is a hundred times worse than if you were yelling at him.

"You're so young, good, please... Sweetie, I didn't mean to offend you. Trust me, this was never part of my plans, and when your father told me how you cried all night long... It will pass. You'll find yourself a good guy of the same age, well, maybe he'll be a little older than you by two years or maybe three, well, certainly not more than fifteen years."

You are silent again, putting down a clean plate and starting on another one, standing with your back to him.

"This is the first love... And I gave up on myself. You're a wonderful girl..."

"Is it my age?" You rudely interrupt him: "Am I not experienced enough or am I just disgusting to you?"

Finally you turn around turning off the water with your arms crossed over your chest. But God no, that's not what he meant! If he had his way... if it's not the damn framework that Leon mostly pushes himself into, then he won't admit to himself, but he wants there to be no more men in your life besides him. In an intimate way.

"No, God, no, your inexperience has nothing to do with it at all!" he says and immediately tries to take a deep breath, looking around seeing the shadows of your parents, realizing that he chose the wrong place and time to clarify the relationship. "I mean, I can't give you what you want. Honey, at my age, I can seduce a young girl only with my unlimited account card, but you... You need attention, love and care. You see how often your father is away from home and I'm there even less often. Besides, you still don't understand that it won't lead to anything, it's falling in love, butterflies in your stomach, what else is there... euphoria? Please don't think that the world has come together like a wedge on me. Believe me, I'm the most lame option."

"Is it still about age?" Through a lump in your throat, you said softly, "Not old enough for you? "

"I'm too old for you"

It sounded like a sledgehammer had fallen on your head. You let out a shuddering sigh, turning away from him again, because in fact, in your opinion, there is nothing wrong with this relationship. You are not a teenager, some of your age may even have children, and sometimes such a thought has slipped through your mind. Only after graduation, not before. Leon claims that it's just falling in love, but it feels like he's trying to convince himself of this and yet it's very difficult for you to say anything to him right now. The moment is really unfortunate.

“It’s not fair” you turned away, not knowing what else to say to him.

In essence, his argument sounded like a stupid excuse to get rid of an annoying fan while remaining noble. The aftertaste of his words nevertheless remains disgusting.

Of course, you won’t complain to daddy, but your soul was becoming more and more lousy as it seemed that this was the same love that was breaking to the core. It’s as if all the bright colors have disappeared from life, leaving only shades of black and gray without a single hint of joy. Perhaps in a few years this will be perceived as stupidity, but what matters is how you feel now. And this is a piercing, gut-wrenching pain. For several months he flirted, cared, made it clear that this was not a game and that everything was serious for him, but the truth turned out to be too cruel.

Your mother comes in exactly at the moment when you can barely restrain yourself from bursting into tears again at the top of your voice, and she perfectly sees this expression on your face. And it’s obvious that you give up, running to your room, leaving the dishes unwashed, so that you can lock yourself in the room again and not leave there for days on end.

Everyone has their own truth. Leon thought that he escaped with less bloodshed and that you were prudent enough not to make stupid mistakes. Because of his actions, many people have already died and if he finds out that you did something to yourself...

Fortunately, your father just thinks that Leon has found the wrong words of comfort, and this is the reason for lying in bed all day because of your lack of desire to do anything at all right now. When your brain becomes a little clearer after several cycles of sleep alternating with insomnia, it eventually requires you to shift your attention to something other than Leon. In fact, the idea of watching The Lord of the Rings is not the worst, although your father was worried that you would withdraw into yourself again after seeing Aragorn and Arwen break up, involuntarily comparing them to yourself, but nothing terrible happened. You just watched TV, even sometimes smiled at some moments, and then fell asleep, and no one dared to disturb your already light sleep.

“Leon shouldn’t have opened this wound. I shouldn’t have asked him to talk to you.”

Your father confessed in the end, feeling guilty for your next relapse of tears. You sigh and at some point you even want to confess everything to him, clutching the corner of the blanket while you and dad watch the movie together, but you change your mind.

It's probably better not to know the whole truth, because if it comes out, then Armageddon will be.

But maybe Leon is right and this is just falling in love, which you just need to get over, despite the fact that it’s not easy.

Kennedy also disappeared from everyone's radar, appearing only at work. However, he still couldn’t concentrate on reports and training; instead of important thoughts, only you and your tear-stained eyes were spinning in his head. He wanted to console you, to tell you that he was wrong, although he told himself the opposite. The decision that he made, Leon considered truly true and correct, but for some reason everything inside him spoke of the opposite, so the only way to feel sorry for himself, he chose alcohol.

It was like a slow death. Being away from a loved one without being able to even touch. Why not agony? every burning sip of alcohol drew your face in front of his eyes and the desire to get lost with you in the world so that both would never be found was something painfully new for Leon.

He will burn in the fire, but you will remain the peak that he cannot reach. Like a fucking drug that he became addicted to and the pain of withdrawal seems to be many times stronger than the one when Ada left him. He desperately needs to get back to you, to his beloved girlfriend, and just be there for you. But it's so wrong. He didn't give a damn about sex… The hated job sucks all the life juices out of him, so the only thing he wants to do after returning home is to get into a hot shower, washing away blood, dirt and guts. He would have taught you everything, explored boundaries together, guided you… It's not such a big problem, considering how attracted you are to him, and not only in an erotic way. Leon just wants to fall asleep with you, hugging you to him. Listening to the chatter and making these stupid jokes that annoy everyone, but at least you were smiling.

Without you, he's drowning in this sea again.

Let this world be so cruel, but it continues to love you with all its soul, therefore it is ready to sacrifice everything without regret and protect you to the end. Every moment with you was colorful, but with his decision, Leon brought everything back to normal, afraid to be happy. At least Chris said something like that to him when she saw that he was drowning himself in alcohol again. These words made Leon curl his lips in an almost malicious smile, snarling because Redfield didn't know how old you were. If he confessed, he would get something like, "Well, it's just lust." Maybe even reminded him of Ada Wong and how Leon was ready to shoot to save this woman.

But life was filled with meaning only when he was with you and not with Ada. He no longer needs a senseless race after each other when he finally managed to bite into a piece of that life where he is loved and expected.

"I have no future with her, Redfield!" he barked, pouring more whiskey into a glass. "My little American dream of a pretty wife, two children and a white picket fence will not come true."

In fact, Leon would be glad to have you alone in his life. He wants too much, although what is available to ordinary people, Leon is fully aware that he has long lost the right to have it. Your father was not afraid to start a family and you, he loves to talk about what pranks you did in childhood and how you sometimes scared your parents by doing something stupid. The usual parental care. Leon thinks that if he were an officer in Raccoon City, as he dreamed, then now he would also be chatting with some cop about what his children are doing.

Eventually, the sand castle built in the head collapsed immediately.

Where is HIS happy "together and forever"? Obviously in another universe, because in this one he still understands that an old jerk with an alcohol problem and an endless sense of guilt clearly shouldn't bother a young girl without experience.

In fact, he's not such a scumbag as to ruin your life. It's better to be a bad experience than an asshole partner who is also never around.

But you're still as beautiful as the day he met you. However, now you keep your distance from each other, which makes the pain of parting remind you how difficult it is without him. Naively, you drew a too unrealistic picture in your head about this relationship and for some reason you still believe in it, hoping for a fairy tale with a happy ending. From that, you constantly look at Leon with a long piercing look that is literally soaked with a plea to take you back.

You could shout, "Look, I'm aware of my choice! And that's you," but sometimes I wondered if he needed you.

After all, Leon deliberately tore up the little that you recreated with him, preferring to go his own way through life alone.

He doesn't talk to you and has kept communication with your father to a minimum due to the inability to look him in the eye. In fact, Leon really wants to get some kind of punishment for what he did to you, for being so dirty and dishonest, and yet like a puppy, he almost whines wishing that it was you who loved him. Maybe there would be another woman who could heal his mental wounds and the question of age would not be so acute, but Leon does not let anyone get too close to him. Sometimes Ada still comes and he honestly tries to find solace in her, sometimes it even works, but his medicine for longing has too short an effect and a new dose is too difficult to find…

Although he knows where you live, what position you like to sleep in, what kind of music you listen to and all that…

On very difficult days, the hand reaches out to read those sent messages. Flipping through the correspondence in the chat, going back to the very beginning when there was no question of any relationship, when you still just considered him just a colleague of your father but already sent something funny, which made a smile appear on his face by itself.

You haven't written to him for about two months, although the impulses to start scribbling message after message still do not leave, but if before it was a cry of the soul for the way he treated you, now you are ready to literally beg him to give you a chance. Yes, you're young, you're still studying, but you don't demand marriage and children from him right away. And besides, you already have all the rights to make decisions for yourself, even if sometimes they are thoughtless and you still need parental help because of your age. But everything comes with age, right? No one starts walking right after birth and you think you have the right to make mistakes and learn from them, so if Leon turns out to be one of them, then you will face the consequences yourself.

You wanted to write something like this to him, but you constantly deleted the printed lines and wrote again, unable to find the strength to send it to him.

Courage came and went at the most inopportune moment, giving way to doubt and low self-esteem. And yet it was he who kissed you first in the barn, gave you expensive gifts and courted you like a man and not like a brat. Seriously, you don't even pay attention to guys your age, focusing only on one man who was killing his liver and psyche. Of course, there is a high probability that in five years or so you will want to go back in time and hit yourself on the head, but nevertheless it will be later. Only in the possible future, but for now, slowly walking through the wet streets of the city under an umbrella, you slowly wander to a familiar apartment, trying to keep your courage in your fists and not let it escape. It gets too wet on the streets, and it's cool, which makes your palms get cold, but still, gathering your courage, you knock on the door of an apartment in the city center.

The knocking is too quiet, so you try to knock a little louder, but as soon as your palm hovers over the door, Leon's face immediately appears in front of you, forcing all the rehearsed words to disappear from your head.

It seems at first he can't believe his eyes. You are standing in front of him, in a cute raincoat, with an umbrella in your hands, whose hand you are nervously pulling and your hair is a little wet - reality and not his drunken imagination, although for a couple of seconds Leon still thinks that this is his drunken delirium.

"Um…Sorry for being uninvited… I just wanted…To talk?" almost stuttering, you say, looking into his blue eyes that seem a little drunk, "Will you let me in?"

He sighs and you wait with bated breath for the verdict, hoping that you don't look like a fool in front of him. It takes maybe ten seconds before Leon nods, stepping back and you enter his apartment with small steps, standing on the threshold, still nervously but holding on to your umbrella more tightly, scratching the handle with your thumb nail in excitement.

Maybe he's just overworked, but there's an unfinished bottle of alcohol on the table and Leon himself seems disheveled, but still he holds out his hand to you and you look at him in amazement, not realizing that he just offers to take your umbrella and raincoat to dry them a little. Slow reaction is normal for ordinary people and Leon never condemns you for this, in fact, he's not even angry, deep down he's probably even glad that you appeared briefly in his life again, however…

"Something happened?" He asks in a tired tone, although he can see from your body language how tense you are, hoping that you don't have any very serious problems, why are you so worried "Do you have problems or…"

At that moment, you realize that the conversation you are about to have will be long and emotionally difficult.

As the saying goes, "Fortune favors the bold " even if your legs are shaking with fear, then at least you will try to solve this dilemma with him.

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pulisicsgirl · 1 year

Text

breathe, you're okay - mason mount

summary: when the mounting pressure of a Women's UCL run is falling on Y/N's shoulders, she isn't handling it by herself as well as she would like everyone to believe she is

pairing: Mason Mount x footballer!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, no established relationship, !!descriptions of a panic attack!!, discussions about mental heath, supportive Mase

requested: no

notes: surprise!! I'm sorry I haven't posted in months-- my life kind of went up in flames over the summer and I haven't had the time to write that I was hoping to. I have a few WIPs in my drafts, and I am still working on all of your requests! Please let me know what you think of this!

The hot afternoon sun beat down on you, and you felt the drops of sweat sliding down the side of your head and tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you ran up and down the field, weaving between cones, carrying the ball at your feet, running through a series of consecutive drills that were designed to refine your skills and test your endurance.

You did your best to recall the instructions that your coach had carefully laid out before the team began the drill, but with the heat and the fatigue that was seeping all the way into your bones, it seemed impossible to remember. You wound up relying on the teammate in front of you to recall what you needed to do next.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you heard the sound of the whistle—two short chirps, signaling for you to halt your movements. You draped your arms over your head, drawing in deep, heaving breaths as you attempted to get your heart rate under control.

You joined the rest of your teammates as they gathered around the coach, preparing for his parting words before everyone was dismissed.

“Good session today, ladies,” he clapped his hands in front of him, looking around the circle. “I’m seeing a lot of good things. A lot of improvement in our touches and finishing. You all are looking really good.”

A couple of the girls clapped at his words, the rest too exhausted to do anything but listen.

“We have the day off tomorrow, so use it well. Rest, recover, and come back Monday ready to go. We’ve got some heavy prep next week before the second leg on Friday,” he continued, and a couple others whooped, getting excited for the upcoming big game.

“They’re gonna be a really tough opponent, I’ll be honest. We know that their back line is really strong, tough to break through.” Your coach’s eyes fell on you, and you knew what was coming next before he even began to speak, your stomach sinking slightly. “But that’s what we have Miss Y/N, for, right?”

Several of the girls cheered for you. The girls near you slapped you on the back, trying to get you hyped up. And the weight that had settled in the pit of your stomach grew heavier.

The Manchester United women were on an impressive UEFA Women’s Champions League run, overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds to make it to the semifinal. And according to the media (and now your own teammates and coaches), it was all thanks to you.

In the group stage, a decisive game in which your team had gone down 2-0 in the first half had seemed hopeless until you had scored two goals in the second, assisting on the third to put your team through to the knockout games. Another three goal contributions in the quarter-final matches had put you in the spotlight of all of the team’s media coverage, thrusting a wave of attention upon you that you had never asked for.

You had gone down 1-0 in the first leg of the semi-final, and now you were playing from behind. And it seemed that everyone expected you to be the one to pull them out of it.

So now, you were left feeling the pressure as the second leg was fast approaching.

“Alright, ladies. Have a good rest of the day and a great day off tomorrow.” He clapped his hands, dismissing you all. The circle of girls dispersed, chatting among themselves.

“Am I still leaving the cones out for you?” the coach raising his eyebrows at you. You only nodded in return. “Okay, don’t work yourself to death.”

You laughed humorlessly as you fiddled with the ball at your feet, not meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder to try to draw your attention to him. “Get some rest tomorrow, okay? We all see how hard you’re working. Give yourself a break.”

Another nod is all that you can muster, and you don’t miss the short sigh that he lets out as he drops his hand from your shoulder and walks to join the rest of the group moving indoors.

You repositioned a few of the cones to set up your own drill and got right into it.

Across the field, on another training pitch near yours, Mason watched as you carried the ball with you up and down the field, weaving between cones, practicing a few skills that he had seen you implement in games, and taking a shot on the goal at each pass.

He was supposed to be doing a bit of extra work with a few of the boys. The men’s team had finished their training session about an hour before, but a few of them still felt like they wanted to get a bit more done before calling it a day. So here they were, running a few small three-a-side games to utilize the last of their energy that day.

But he couldn’t help but notice how you never stopped.

During the team training, you were always one of the hardest-working ones out there. When he had returned to the pitch from lunch, you were taking shots on the goal with the rest of your team nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even sure he had seen you eating lunch inside when he thought about it.

And now here you were, sprinting across the length of the field, over and over, after the rest of your team had hit the showers.

He felt a twinge of worry for you but brushed it off as one of his teammates called his name to pull his attention back to the game they were playing.

Your head was spinning as you pushed yourself to keep moving. Your entire body was drenched in sweat. Every muscle ached from overexertion as you gritted your teeth, forcing them to keep moving. The sun was dizzyingly bright as the evening set in. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of your skin. Your lungs were burning with your heaving breaths and your mouth quickly grew dry.

“That’s what we have Miss Y/N for, right?” Your coach’s words echoed through your head as you carried the ball down the field.

“Y/L/N carries the Man U Women through to the semifinal!” You recalled the title of the article as you weaved between the cones.

“I really believe Y/N Y/L/N could be the one to lead Manchester United to their first Women’s Champion’s League trophy!” You heard the words of the pundit clear as day as you planted your foot, striking the ball cleanly. It soared through the air, curving toward the goal, and struck the crossbar. The ball flew away from the goal, bouncing pathetically on the ground in the penalty area.

You took a pause, the words and expectations crashing around your mind leaving an unsettling feeling in your chest. As you stood there, you couldn’t seem to get your panting breaths to grow steadier.

Your shirt suddenly felt too tight on your neck. You grasped the fabric, pulling it away from your body in an attempt to allow yourself to breathe easier, but nothing seemed to be helping.

Your head was spinning. You felt your stomach sink, a feeling like when you plummeted down the tall hill of a rollercoaster, a sick feeling settling in your abdomen. Your skin began to crawl, and you just couldn’t stop hyperventilating.

You began to panic. Eyes searching frantically for relief. You weren’t sure what you were looking for—something, anything.

You suddenly felt like you were too out in the open, needing to seclude yourself away from the sight of prying eyes. You set into a sprint, off of the field and around the corner of the nearest part of the building to you, trying to find some shade from the hot sun and hide yourself from anyone who might see your pathetic state.

But it was too late. Mason had seen the whole thing.

They had just paused their game for a short water break. He had seen you take the shot, instead hitting the crossbar. It only took him a few seconds once you paused to realize that something wasn’t right.

He watched the way your chest rose and fell rapidly in quick, short breaths. When you began attempting to pull your shirt away from your body, he instantly knew what was taking place. He’d recognize that feeling anywhere.

You were having a panic attack, whether you realized it or not.

As soon as he saw you take off for the side of the building, he was running after you without so much as a word of explanation to his teammates.

Once in the shade of the wall you hid behind, you began pacing, unable to keep still. Every inch of your body felt jittery, and you felt unsteady on your legs. You couldn’t manage more than rapid, shallow breaths. Your throat felt tight, your breaths sounding more like wheezes, and it was starting to make your head spin. Your hands flew to your head, scratching at your scalp in an attempt to somehow rid yourself of the feeling.

You were startled by Mason swiftly rounding the corner, concern written all over his face as he stopped in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he spoke calmly and evenly. He quickly reached up, taking your wrists in his hands so he could gently but firmly pull your hands out of your hair to keep you from hurting yourself.

“I can’t, Mason. I can’t,” you panted, shaking your head ‘no’ frantically and still trying to weakly pull your hand from his grip.

“You’re okay, Y/N. Try to slow down your breathing,” Mason’s calm voice directly contrasted your frantic behavior, speaking in short sentences so as to not overwhelm you more. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

A short sob fell from your lips, and you felt the tears spilling over and down your cheeks.

“We’re gonna lose,” you sobbed, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “The semifinal, we’re gonna lose it, and it’s gonna be all my fault.”

In that moment, everything clicked into place for Mason-- the UWCL run, your success in the games leading up to the semi-final leg, the pressure from the fans and the team, the countless extra hours you had been putting in.

A loud noise in the distance, coming from the direction of the parking lot, startled you, snatching your attention and you whipped your head to the side, eyes searching frantically for the source. He released your wrists from his hand, testing the waters as he turned your head back to look at him with a hand on your cheek.

He cradled your face with a hand on either side, keeping your focus on him. His thumbs wiped the tears away that had slipped down your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you,” he repeated the affirmations he had already been telling you.

As he stroked his thumbs softly over the skin of your cheek, he felt that your breathing was already growing a bit slower. You had reached up, holding onto his wrists with both of your hands to steady yourself, feeling too unsteady on your feet. His hands were gentle and soft on your skin.

Mason watched your expression, taking long deep breaths for you to emulate. Your eyes were still wide, darting frantically around his face, but you were trying your best to follow his breathing. He continued whispering short reassurances.

“You’re safe.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got you.”

You were beginning to calm down, but your eyes darted to something behind Mason, pulled away from the calm atmosphere he had tried to create for you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he spoke gently, pressing his forehead to yours so you would only focus on him. You were shocked at how little the intrusion on your personal space bothered you. In fact, to your surprise, the closeness seemed to settle you a little more.

You continued focusing on your breathing, gripping tightly to his wrists as if you thought he’d disappear if you let go. Your eyes were clamped closed, listening to Mason’s soft and slow breathing. You felt your pounding heart being to slow its pace.

The panic you had been feeling subsided, leaving behind a wave of extreme fatigue. You felt completely and utterly drained.

Mason must have noticed the way that your body slumped over, and he guided you to sit down on the grass, leaning back against the brick wall of the building. He sat down next to you, leaving space so he didn’t make you more nervous. But in the haze you felt in your mind, you felt a need to still be close to him, leaning over so you could place your head on his shoulder. A short pang of guilt washed over you as you noticed the crescent-shaped indents you had left on his wrists, your nails digging into the skin as you had held onto him.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your eyes slipping closed as you continued focusing on breathing slowly. A gentle breeze blew through, cooling your clammy skin and brushing through the blades of grass.

“I used to get them sometimes, too, you know?” Mason broke the silence, speaking softly.

You responded with a quiet, “hmm?” unsure of what he meant.

“Panic attacks,” he explained. “At the end of last season, before I left Chelsea. There was a lot of pressure. Any time I played, everyone had something to say about it. Even when I didn’t play, some would find a reason to be upset. It all just got to be too much.”

A deep sadness filled you while you listened to his words. “How did you get through it?”

“Ben found me having one in my car after training one day.” He was quiet for a moment. “I tried to power through it—like you. Skipping lunch and staying late to train a bit extra on the field or put in an extra session in the gym. But once Ben realized what was going on, he made sure that I was taking care of myself properly and wasn’t dealing with it on my own anymore.”

You sat up so you could look at Mason’s face, and you saw a hint of sadness there. “So I’ll tell you what he told me. There are 10 other people with you on that field at all times. If you fall down, there are 10 pairs of hands ready to help you back to your feet. If you succeed, there are 10 others to celebrate with you. But it’s not all on you.”

Your eyes were misty, welling up with tears at his words. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a secure hug as the tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“No matter the outcome of the game next week, you’re an incredible player, Y/N.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve already done so much so early in your career. The media and the fans will say what they want—don’t let them get to you. And your coaches may get carried away with their expectations for you, but it’s just because they’re so excited to see you succeed. Just be the player you know how to be, and your achievements will speak for themselves.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you whispered after pondering his words for a moment. No words could express the gratitude you felt for the relief he had brought you just by letting you know that he was there and he understood. But as he squeezed your shoulders lightly in response, you hoped he knew just how thankful you were.

Eventually, Mason helped you to your feet, guiding you back toward the fields. You were still feeling a bit weak and unsteady, so he made sure you remained upright with a gentle hold on your arm as you walked. Deciding it was time for you to call it a day, he insisted on collecting the cones that you had been training with, not allowing you to help him by picking up even one of them.

It took some convincing but you told him you would be fine to drive yourself home—his only condition was that you texted to let him know you made it there safely.

“Alright, then. Rest on your day off tomorrow. Give yourself a break, okay?” he spoke as he put the last of the cones away. “I’ll check in with you on Monday, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The two of you had been friendly before today, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves close friends. He just wanted to be sure that you knew you had people in your corner.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you nodded, smiling at him. With a final hug, he sent you on your way as he turned to rejoin his (undoubtedly confused) teammates where he had left them.

“Remember: rest!” he shouted back at you as you parted ways, and you couldn’t stop the blushing smile that worked its way onto your face.

tag list: @landoslover @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fic #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #chelsea fc #footballer fic

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katerinaaqu · 3 months

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Odysseus not sleeping for 9 days increased suspicion to his men unconsciously (a small analysis based on sleep deprivation and Odyssey)

So it seems that the limits that we know so far is around 264 hours or just above 11 days of staying awake consequently. That is surprisingly just above what Odysseus did who stayed awake for 9 days or approximately 216 hours! That seems ironically accurate on Homer's part that it occured.

According to Homer's Odyssey, Odysseus remained awake for 9 consequent days, guarding the sack containing all the winds blowing over the Mediterannean (a gift of the god of winds, Aiolus). Overcome by fatigue, once the island of Ithaca came on sight Odysseus fell asleep but at that moment his men, thinking that the sack contains rich gifts, they opened it up, releasing all the winds out and pushing Odysseus back to the islands of Aiolus. Aiolus witnessing upon that sign of bad luck, he refused to help Odysseus again.

Now of course one might say why on earth wouldn't his men trust him when he told them not to open the sack and why were they so overcome by not just distrust but also greed? Well, apart from the symbolism of the Iliad, ironically their distrust was perfectly logical even if in a way misplaced. And here's why

Odysseus was guarding the sack

No matter what one says, Odysseus was still acting distrustful to THEM. In a way he felt like his warning was not enough and he needed to take some extra precaution. The fact that he was still feeling the need to guard the sack like a guard dog, because of his natural suspicious nature, made his men feel not trusted and therefore evn more suspicious of his behavior. Why all of the sudden their captain had his guard so high up? Why did he feel like he had to take extra precaution? Didn't their captain; the captain they spent almost 15 years together trust them anymore? What did he have to hide? This behavior drove them suspicious back thinking there was more to that story than what Odysseus was saying.

Behavioral changes due to sleep deprivation

Odysseus was sleep deprived, that much everyone could tell. However interestingly the signs of sleep deprivation might unsconsciously increased suspiciousness to the already tensed atmosphere. Some of the early signs of sleep deprivation are:

drowsiness

irritability

impaired decision-making

impaired judgement

altered perception

memory deficits

vision and hearing impairments

decreased hand-eye coordination

increased muscle tension

tremors

increased risk of accidents or near misses

Therefore already from the first two or three days without sleep, Odysseus's character began to swift due to fatigue. He was expected to become more irritable, more drowsy, having difficulty to concentrate and having tension to his muscles. He would become increasingly more and more aggressive in his reactions. The longer he stayed without sleep and one could expect

mtabolism disruptions

hallucinations

delusions

mood swings

risky behavior

decreased attention

inflexible reasoning

The more Odysseus remained without sleep, the more unpredictable he would become and the more suspicious and aggressive his behavior would be. Imagine if at some point some of his men would want to give him some food or drink and Odysseus violently pushing them away, yelling at them that he needs nothing but to be left alone. He would become more and more irritable by basic things even if those things had the kinder intentions.

He would seem more and more like a tiger in a cage, more and more paranoic about the precious sack he guarded; seemingly getting all the more anxious the closer they got to his beloved home. At some point if he actually got hallucinations (talking to things that aren't there or looking around like a madman) would also make his men suspicious on his capability to lead them if an emergency were to occur.

Conslusion:

Therefore in his zeal to protect the sack at all costs, in his fixation upon doing everything himself, in his obsession with getting anxious and not trusting his own shadow, Odysseus made the bad decision to remain awake for so long that affected his mental and behavioral health, thus leading to more suspicion on his men's part to doubt his words and believing he was lying and that he was hiding gold and gems instead of their salvation. In a way Odysseus's obsession, just like all his plans, turned boomerang against him. Sleep deprivation made him aggressive. His aggressiveness was perceived as suspicious and his men didn't believe in him.

Still stupid on their part but one can understand their thoughts a bit. Having a captain that is slowly breaking guarding a seemingly precious sack rose plenty of suspicion. Of course that mistake costed them not only their home but also their life, but one can probably understand them a little.

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nenelonomh · 3 months

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how to identify what's keeping you stuck

feeling stuck can be frustrating, but understanding the underlying factors can help you break free. this post focuses on helping you identify what may be keeping you stuck and provides actions to help you get unstuck again.

limiting beliefs

unconscious beliefs often hold us back. these are deeply ingrained thoughts or assumptions that hinder our progress and self-confidence. here are some key points: 1. origins: limiting beliefs often stem from childhood experiences, societal norms, or past failures. they shape our perception of what’s possible. 2. confirmation bias: we seek evidence that supports our beliefs. if you think you’re not good enough, you’ll notice instances that confirm this, ignoring evidence to the contrary. 3. self-fulfilling prophecy: beliefs influence behaviour. if you believe you’ll fail, you might not even try, ensuring failure. 4. cognitive distortions: these are irrational thought patterns. examples include black-and-white thinking, catastrophizing, and overgeneralization. overcoming limiting beliefs is essential for personal growth and achieving your goals. the key is to become aware of and challenge these beliefs. pay attention to negative self-talk or thoughts that hold you back. write them down to gain clarity. question the validity of these beliefs. are they based on evidence or assumptions? challenge them with rational thinking.

replace limiting beliefs with empowering ones. for example, if you believe “i’m not good enough,” replace it with “i am capable and deserving.” gather evidence that contradicts your limiting beliefs. celebrate past achievements and positive feedback.

use positive affirmations daily. imagine yourself succeeding despite obstacles. visualization can rewire your brain and boost confidence. take small steps toward your goals. each success reinforces positive beliefs.

physical and emotional signals

physical signals that indicate feeling stuck include tension, fatigue, headaches, digestive issues, and insomnia. stress and feeling stuck often manifests as physical tension. feeling constantly drained or tired can be a sign that something is amiss. frequent headaches or migraines may be related to emotional stress. additionally, stress can affect digestion, leading to stomachaches, bloating or discomfort. difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep may also indicate underlying stress or unresolved issues.

emotional signs include persistent worry, feeling unmotivated, frustration, a belief that things won't improve, feeling paralyzed by choices or unable to make decisions, or a lack of joy and enthusiasm.

paying attention to these signals can guide you towards understanding what's keeping you stuck.

to manage emotional and physical signals, participate in relaxation techniques, such as meditation, progressive muscle relaxation, deep breathing, or yoga.

repetitive patterns

take note of recurring thoughts, behaviours, or situations. are there patterns that keep you in the same place? identifying these can lead to breakthroughs, as well as personal growth and positive change. 1. types of repetitive patterns the three types of repetitive patterns can be categorized into behavioural, thoughts, and situational. behavioural patterns involve actions you repeat, even if they don’t serve you. for example, procrastination, overeating, or staying in toxic relationships. thought patterns, such as self-criticism or catastrophizing, can keep you stuck. additionally, certain situations trigger familiar responses. for instance, feeling anxious in social gatherings. 2. identify why you repeat patterns here are some common reasons why people choose to repeat patterns, even when the actions are not beneficial: familiarity, unconscious beliefs, and neuroplasticity. familiarity feels safe, even if it's not beneficial. this causes us to continue negative patterns - since we respond abrasively to change. deep-seated beliefs drive behaviour. if you believe you’re unworthy, you’ll repeat self-sabotaging actions.

neuroplasticity is the brain's capacity to continue growing and evolving in response to life experiences. plasticity is the capacity to be shaped, moulded, or altered. our brains wire pathways based on repetition. breaking these patterns requires hardwiring.

3. steps to break repetitive patterns

awareness: notice when patterns emerge. journaling helps.

understand triggers: identify what sets off the pattern. is it stress, boredom, or fear?

challenge beliefs: question why you engage in the behaviour. what belief drives it?

replace with new actions: introduce healthier alternatives. for example, replace procrastination with focused work.

seek support: therapy or coaching can provide insights and tools.

seek professional support

seeking professional help is a valuable step when dealing with personal challenges. professionals, such as therapists, counsellors, or coaches, have specialized knowledge. they can offer insights and strategies tailored to your situation. professionals provide an unbiased viewpoint. they don’t have personal attachments or emotional involvement, allowing them to see patterns and solutions objectively.

therapy sessions can create a safe environment to explore feelings, fears, and vulnerabilities. you can express yourself freely without judgment.

regular sessions will keep you accountable for your progress. having someone to check in with motivates consistent effort. feeling understood and validated is crucial. professionals offer empathy and validate your experiences.

remember - seeking professional support will never be a sign of weakness. you are simply investing in your well-being!

further reading Coping Skills for Stress and Uncomfortable Emotions| Very Well Mind The Yuckness of Stuckness | Psychology Today What's Keeping You Stuck? | My Think Big Life

end notes thank you for reading! i hope you found this post helpful. ❤️ nene

image source: pinterest

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shunsuiken · 2 years

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LEAN ON ME.

pairing. scaramouche/wanderer x gn!reader

genre. fluff + comfort + reader has insecurities and wears a mask + he might be a lil ooc here forgive me + he also says you have a pretty face <3

synopsis. a tiresome day of travelling leads to you revealing a part of yourself to your travelling companion. and in the same moment, he stumbles upon revelations about you.

wc. 1k (i know. its short. bear with me please)

an. I WAS STILL EMO AFTER THE 3.3 ARCHON QUEST SO THIS HAAAAD TO BE WRITTEN MAN ig this is also a late scara/wanderer bday fic ? take it any way you like <33 also yes there are spoilers for the 3.3 archon quest here

“you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to,” the wanderer reminds you, fixing his gaze on the wall of the inn so you don’t feel pressured. “the final decision is always yours.”

“no, no. i want to—i’m just… i’m gonna need some time,” you explain as your eyes turn into crescents. one of his favourite expressions you made a lot. considering its the most he’s seen. but at least he’s able to see some visible feature of yours beyond the mask you wear. he knew you were smiling and that was all that mattered.

he would never say that to your face though.

“do as you wish.”

you look at him and realise he’s offering his lap for you to lie on. his eyes bore into your wide ones before switching his gaze to his lap then back to yours again.

he’s asking you: what are you waiting for?

your eyes soften at the confirmation of his offer, positioning yourself to comfortably lay your head on his lap. your hand boldly slides under his thigh and to your surprise, you hear no immediate complaint to your actions.

instead, the wanderer is putting every ounce of his power into holding his indifferent expression. suddenly, he doesn’t know where to put his hands, where to look or even if his lap is as comfortable as your pillow made of cotton wrapped in silk.

the warmth of your palm underneath his thigh feels like a reminder. a reminder that you aren’t going anywhere. a reminder that you will be his travelling companion and stick by his side despite all those empty threats and remarks he throws at you.

the wanderer’s lips are held in a line tighter than rope as he ponders about these heartfelt revelations. the air is comfortable. nature beyond the windows whisper and coo, he sighs inwardly and gently caresses your head once you’ve fallen asleep.

the wanderer never gets tired—one of the perks of being born a living puppet. but you, on the other hand, often find yourself falling into the hands of exhaustion. he obviously can’t see the expression on your face, but as a puppet that’s lived longer than you, he’s picked up on reading your body language whenever fatigue overcomes you.

your eyes become droopy, the steps in your walk become sluggish, your breath shortens and most of all, your posture wanes like someone turned you into an old person when he wasn’t looking. so the least he can do is calm your heart after such a trifling day of brawling fatui agents, stumbling upon domains and getting chased by wild fungi is… some peace.

such a pathetic creature you are. he mutters during those moments but his actions make his thoughts meaningless.

it’s silent. you don’t feel nor hear any movement. you’re obviously aware that a puppet doesn’t breathe, so you’ve tried picking up on other signs that lets you ascertain his presence.

unfortunately for you, none of them have worked. hence why trusting your luck felt like a better idea.

you lift your head a little, using the most of your peripheral vision to determine whether or not he fell asleep. and when silence greets you after the loss of contact from his thigh, you slip a finger under the string of your mask and pull it off.

the cool air of the inn splashes the lower half of your face, it’s uncomfortable at first—very exposing too, you almost feel naked. steeling your heart and pushing away your thoughts before they take over you, you quickly but gently rest your head on his lap again to continue napping.

it’s quite some time after, but the wanderer’s eyes finally flutter open—and the first sight he gazes upon is you. your face. he has to furrows his brows. there’s no way this is real.

he closes his eyes—if he’s dreaming right now, then he’ll need a word with lesser lord kusanali about this because, okay, sure! he’s been curious about his companions’ face but it’s not that serious! (which is the biggest lie he’s ever told since he started his new life as the wanderer).

it is, in fact, very serious. but he doesn’t let the curiosity win. it’d be rude to expose what you’ve hidden without your consent.

when he opens his eyes he realises that this moment is very much real.

he blinks, processing the situation before it hits him that you’ve taken your mask off. all his movement pauses completely at this realisation. he’s also aware that he’s never getting this chance again once you’re awake.

you are quite the sight. he thinks, peering over his lap to take one good look at you. he’s always wondered what the rest of your face might look like. he’s proud to say he’s not disappointed.

to think you hid such a pretty face behind that mask too… he’ll have to berate you for this betrayal (he’s half-joking). however, these emotions dissipate into the air when it strikes him again that you’re in front of him. without your mask.

now this means a lot of things. and one of those things is that you’ve learnt to trust him a whole lot more than you did in the beginning—no, that’s not it. the mask was your safe haven, it was your zone of comfort. plus, you’ve always trusted the wanderer. if not, why did you always yell out his name whenever danger was up your ass? this can only mean…

they let their walls down. he supposed, unsure what to make of this. so, they are letting themselves be vulnerable… in front of me? he continues his train of thought albeit how ridiculous it sounds to him.

he sighs, putting his thoughts away as he observes the lower half of your face. your cheek is squished from sleeping on your side and the fat of it accentuates the unintended pout on your lips.

the wanderer has nothing particularly in mind when the pad of his index finger gently trails along the bridge to the apex of your nose. he’s barely touching you to keep you from awaking.

he finds you rather mesmerising like this, napping quietly on his lap, without a care of your bare face. the back of his mind just knows how liberating it must have felt to remove the mask.

it is a shame you are asleep. because if you were awake, at least you’d be able to catch a glimpse of the soft smile the wanderer gazes at you with.

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader

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scaranation · 2 years

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Hi there dear

I stumbled upon ur blog and ahh love ur writting i wad thinking maybe if ur requests are open that u could write a lil smth IF UR FREE OFCI

was thinking scaramouche x reader argument (angst to fluff :the ansgt shouldnt be brutal bc i dont hsndle it well)

Or if ur not comfy writting that u could doo

Scaramouche x reader scara accidentally confesses to reader??

Dont overwork urself and remember to eat <3

Ofc! Literally giggling and kicking my feet as i wrote this anyway I hope it’s what you had in mind <33

༊*·˚ 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊

Pairing: Scaramouche x GN!reader (Scaramouche is referred to as Kunikuzushi)

Content: Modern AU, angst to fluff, comfort

In which Kunikuzushi’s trust issues lead him to grow apprehensive of your recent actions - although the argument he instigates leaves him in dire need for your reassurance.

“Fuck, why are you keeping things from me?” Kunikuzushi stood glowering on the other side of the kitchen counter, violet eyes flaring with unbridled frustration.

“Kuni, I told you, I was preparing-” You began, your voice barely able to remain level, but your fiancé cut you off.

“Bullshit! I’ve been betrayed so many times, I know the signs when I see it. Buying men’s products? Sneaking out? Hiding your phone? You might as well just tell me the name of your other man.”

Kunikuzushi had flown into a rage after discovering expensive men’s cologne in your room, and you were now left floundering in the wrath he usually saved for his subordinates. Usually, you matched his explosive energy, impulsively making snarky remarks in return - but now, you were just so, so tired.

Tired of this stupid argument.

Tired of Kunikuzushi.

Maybe you were even tired of your engagement.

“You’re just like the rest of them. How stupid I was, to think you’d be any different. Pathetic.” Kunikuzushi seethed, and that was it. The tears that’d threatened to spill for the past few minutes finally flowed as you felt your eyes heat up, the droplets staining your cheeks as you could only feel helpless.

Kunikuzushi’s gaze flickered at your crying, his lips sealing quickly as you finally took your turn to speak.

“The cologne was for you. Happy anniversary, Kuni.”

Without a second glance, you turned and strode off. In the arguments you usually had with Kunikuzushi, you’d storm off in a blind rage - but somehow, it was even more heartbreaking for him to see you shuffle away in fatigued defeat.

You’d been planning a surprise for your anniversary with Kunikuzushi for weeks. You’d treat him to a nice dinner, present him with expensive cologne and a new hat to add to his prized designer collection. But when you’d returned home on the evening of the anniversary, excited to have everything in order, you’d been greeted with the sight of your fiancé at the counter - holding the present you’d bought for him.

At first, you were surprised, but that was quickly overcome with excitement as you anticipated how he would react. Would he be happy, that you prepared a gift just for him?

What you didn’t expect however, was for him to explode into a violently personal spiel - accusing you of cheating, and hiding things from him, and purchasing gifts for another man. You knew he was busy with his work, which could leave him tense, and that he was quick to catch on to signs of betrayal, given his past. You knew he was prone to spewing harsh words he didn’t mean, but this time simply left you worn out.

Worst of all, it never occurred to him once that today was your anniversary. Were you foolish, to hope that he too would be counting down the days?

Perhaps you simply weren’t meant for each other - after all, you weren’t sure if you could continue putting up with his attitude.

And so, you decided to pack your things - not eliminate your relationship, but just stay in a nearby hotel to cool down. You figured that both you and Kunikuzushi needed the break.

The more clothing you shoved into your suitcase, the more convinced you became that this was the right decision. Overcome by the fatigue and mental drain however, you paused your rushed packing briefly.

You told yourself you’d close your eyes for just a moment as you propped your elbows on the pile of shirts in the case, laying your head down.

You’d just take a small rest.

As you lapsed in and out of consciousness, at some point you became vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps.

Kunikuzushi’s, unmistakably.

They shuffled hesitantly to the door, before pausing - the room dropping back into silence as the steps stopped in their tracks. A silence that was shortly broken by the quickening breaths of Kunikuzushi, indistinguishably muttering barely audible.

Was he relieved, to see you go?

You were vaguely aware of Kunikuzushi’s smooth, cold hands around your legs and the small of your back. They were tentative, shy - deeply contrasting his usual prickly nature. After another hesitant pause, you felt yourself being lifted into the air and set with utter care onto your bed, the man lowering you down slowly. Tracing the shape of your face affectionately, you felt his fingers cautiously slide across the planes of your face before pulling away in quiet resolve.

You heard the sound of your suitcase being unpacked, with a little too much force - your clothes placed in the wardrobe once again with a rigorous energy. A small smile crept to your face at the gesture. Kunikuzushi could be cute at times, although you’d never say that to his face. As he shoved the last of your clothes back and shut the suitcase with a vehement finality, you let out a sigh - feigning mumbling in your sleep.

The reaction was immediate as Kunikuzushi stepped over to your side, gently grasping your hands in his and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Too stunned by the out of character gesture, your breathing stopped - although it went unnoticed by your fiancé as he delicately placed his lips against your hand, cradling your arm close to him in a grip that was just tight enough not to hurt. Just as you felt your eye begin twitching from feigning sleep, Kunikuzushi gently pulled away with a reluctant sigh - placing your arm slowly back on the mattress and carefully tucking the blanket around your body.

A while later - following the sound of the shower - the other side of your shared bed dipped as Kunikuzushi crawled into it. You felt lithe hands wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you closer into Kunikuzushi as he pressed fluttering kisses down your neck and back.

“I don’t know if you’re awake… But I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I know I can be quick to misunderstand things and assume the worst of people, and I’m sorry for lashing out and forgetting about our anniversary. But… If you’d like, we can have a date tomorrow, and maybe…” Kunikuzushi’s voice was rough and gravelly, faltering at your lack of response. His arms tightened around you. Maybe, in his heart, he wanted you to be awake - to respond to him, and offer him the forgiveness he sought.

“If you… Still want to be with me, of course.” He added, voice trembling lightly. He dipped his head back into the crook of your neck, and you felt something damp on your skin.

Was he… crying?

You rolled over at once, to see Kunikuzushi staring at you with teary eyes - face flushed, and eyebrows raised in an expression of vulnerability you’d rarely ever seen from him. You weren’t sure if it was the dark, but it looked as though his lower lip was shaking.

“Kuni, why would I leave you?” You thumbed away his tears as he melted into your touch, closing his eyes.

“You were packing your things… You know I don’t like it when people leave.”

“I was just planning to take a small break.”

You felt your fiancé’s arms hug you closer at that, his eyes widening.

“Are you going to call me a liar?” You chuckled, as Kunikuzushi closed his mouth. His face flushed with embarassment.

“Listen. I won’t leave you, and you need to believe that. I won’t lie, neither of us are great with words, so I’ll just say it as it is - the only thing that has the smallest chance of driving me away is your inability to believe that I’ll stay.” You murmured, before realising that your delivery of words had significant room for improvement.

“… Okay, I believe you. Because that’s what silly mortal love is, isn’t it? A risk.” Kunikuzushi muttered, although his arms relaxed.

“Good thing we’re both taking that risk.” You smiled, as Kunikuzushi’s usual demeanour returned. Typically, he couldn’t handle apologising and cracking his infallible ego.

Kunikuzushi supposed that since he’d already been vulnerable, he might as well continue to be. Curling into your form, he held you tightly - pecking light kisses wherever his lips could reach.

“You know, you’re not as insufferable when you’re desperate.” You laughed.

“… Are you still okay with a date tomorrow, though…?” Kunikuzushi ignored your comment.

“Yes, of course.” You replied, lacing your fingers with his. He turned red, stuttering in his movements at the simple gesture. His eyes however switched to relief at your acceptance - mouth curving into a smile despite the flush across his pale cheeks.

“Good night.” You pressed a lazy kiss against Kunikuzushi’s cheek, preparing to close your eyes.

“Can I have one… here?” Kunikuzushi grabbed you before you could fall asleep, pointing to his lips with a guarded expression.

You obliged, chastely kissing his lips before pulling away and laughing at his embarrassment.

“I hate you.” Kunikuzushi scowled at your deriding chuckles, closing his eyes and nestling into the blankets.

“I love you.” You responded quickly, letting your eyelids droop sleepily.

Then, a few minutes later, in the slumbering silence of the bedroom, came one last comment.

“… I love you too.”

#genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin oneshots #fatui x reader #kunikuzushi #genshin angst #genshin fluff #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you

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glowwithkristen · 5 months

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Nurturing Your Well-Being: Signs of Emotional Overwhelm and Calming Affirmations for Self-Care

In today's fast-paced world, it's easy to neglect our emotional well-being amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life. However, prioritizing self-care is crucial for maintaining a healthy mind and body. Recognizing the signs of emotional overwhelm is the first step towards implementing self-care practices into your routine. Additionally, incorporating calming affirmations can help alleviate symptoms of anxiety and depression, promoting a more balanced and resilient mindset.

Signs of Emotional Overwhelm

1. **Persistent Stress**: Feeling constantly stressed or on edge, even in situations that wouldn't typically cause stress, could indicate emotional overwhelm.

2. **Difficulty Sleeping**: Insomnia or disrupted sleep patterns may signal underlying emotional strain.

3. **Fatigue**: Feeling exhausted despite getting an adequate amount of sleep is a common indicator of emotional overwhelm.

4. **Irritability**: Becoming easily agitated or snapping at others over minor issues could be a sign of underlying emotional distress.

5. **Withdrawal**: Withdrawing from social interactions or activities you once enjoyed can signify emotional exhaustion.

6. **Physical Symptoms**: Headaches, muscle tension, and digestive issues may manifest as a result of prolonged emotional stress.

7. **Difficulty Concentrating**: Struggling to focus or make decisions could indicate that your mind is overwhelmed with stress.

Calming Affirmations for Anxiety and Depression

1. **"I am worthy of love and compassion, especially from myself."**

2. **"I embrace each moment with a sense of peace and gratitude."**

3. **"I release all worries and fears, allowing myself to find inner calm."**

4. **"I trust in my ability to overcome challenges, one step at a time."**

5. **"I am capable of handling whatever comes my way with grace and resilience."**

6. **"I honor my emotions and give myself permission to feel without judgment."**

7. **"I choose to focus on the present moment, letting go of past regrets and future uncertainties."**

8. **"I am surrounded by love and support, even in times of darkness."**

9. **"I nourish my mind, body, and soul with kindness and self-care."**

10. **"I am enough, just as I am, and I deserve peace and happiness."

Prioritizing self-care is essential for maintaining emotional well-being in today's hectic world. By recognizing the signs of emotional overwhelm and incorporating calming affirmations into your daily routine, you can cultivate a sense of inner peace and resilience. Remember, self-care isn't selfish—it's a necessary practice that allows you to show up as the best version of yourself for both yourself and those around you. So, take a moment to breathe, listen to your inner voice, and nurture your well-being with kindness and compassion.

#mental health #aesthetic #self love #self care #self improvement

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partwaydecent · 22 days

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Notice: our Patreon billing will be paused indefinitely and all posts will be made publicly available.

Although I had previously considered switching us over to Ko-fi, all my work is still on an indefinite hiatus due to medical issues with fatigue and brainfog that have been a bit too frustrating to overcome in order to make that change.

If you are a current Patron, I am advising that you cancel your membership with Partway Decent Productions, as members-only content will now be made free and publicly accessible. Although I do not condone Patreon's shady practices, it will take me longer than I am comfortable with accepting money from members to transition to a different service, especially when links on existing published episodes lead to our public Patreon posts. I will continue to enable paused billing each month.

Many thanks for your patronage during our active months. I will always cherish that. Accepting that my health comes first has been difficult for me to come to terms with as someone who has spent most of my working life valuing what I make but I appreciate the patience and understanding the listeners of Trial and Error have shown me since making this decision in 2022. I hope that one day I can return to creating audio projects but, for now, this break will need to continue.

I would also be remiss if I did not let you know, If you are looking for somewhere to donate some cash each month, to please consider buying eSims for Gaza or donating to vetted Palestinian fundraisers to help individuals and families survive and escape genocide. Visit cartoonist.coop/esims4gaza or linktr.ee/opolivebranch for more extensive information on how to help.

Thanks as always, Dairy James

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amhdes90 · 5 months

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@gofundmereach-blog

My journey of building a stable life for my family began with love and determination. From the moment I decided to build a promising future and get married, my dreams and aspirations embraced me, and life renewed itself every day. Hard work wasn't the only path to success, but resilience and faith were the keys. I dedicated my life to serving my future family, studying nursing diligently while working in a print shop. This journey spanned years, overcoming many challenges and hardships. After graduation, I didn't settle for a part-time nursing job; instead, I ventured into the world of graphic design.

I found myself anew in this field, embarking on a journey to explore my potential. With each new challenge, I gained more experience and skill, eventually becoming a professional graphic design trainer. Amidst hard work and many challenges, I saved every penny to fulfill my dream, which never faded from my mind. I made a fateful decision to marry, and my wife joined me on my journey. Together, we faced challenges and overcame them, striving to build a bright future for our family.

Every detail meant a lot to us in building our home—the bed's placement, the number of windows, paint colors, cushion texture, flooring, lighting, and many more. Seeing our dreams materialize made the fatigue and hardship bearable, and we completed the finishing touches with extreme care.

But life holds unpredictable twists. In an instant, everything changed. The sounds of bombing emerged, and flames engulfed our dreams and hopes, turning everything to ashes. Our house burned along with our belongings and dreams. Screams filled the air, tears flooded our faces, and our hearts bled with pain.

Now, here I am, alone among the rubble, searching for a way to rebuild my life. My family needs a home to shelter them, and my children need a new hope. I am here, grappling with deep sorrow and despair, but I must face the circumstances and rebuild a new home for my family, even if tears accompany me every step of the way. https://gofund.me/03bd44b1 https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=JM4BATJ3VCFME

#home #help #free gaza #free palestine #home design #go fund me #fundraising #support #go fund them #HopeAfterLoss #charity #donate #evacuation #fundraiser #mutual aid #aid

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liamhaydn-blog · 1 month

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Why Andy Murray is Britain's Greatest Ever Sportsperson

The Difficulty of Tennis

Tennis can be regarded as one of the toughest, most demanding Sports there is for many reasons. The physical demands are huge, with speed, strength and endurance all required. The mental demands are great with the need to manage stress and emotions, with mental fatigue just as much as physical needing to be overcome.. The mental exhaustion must be resisted in order to allow you to keep problem-solving on the court, keep producing solutions and asking questions of your opponent. The 1 v 1 nature of tennis, with coaching not allowed in-game amplifies the psychological battle, not solely against your opponent but also raging inside your own mind, with noone to rely on but yourself. With no time limit, the match only ends when you are the first to reach 2 sets (or 3 for men in Grand Slams) and due to this you have to deal with being as little as 1 point away from victory, before having to still be on court battling hours later if you were unable to take that matchpoint.

As well as requiring physical and mental endurance, Tennis also demands a high level of skill with the elite players needing to have every shot in their repertoire to a high standard: be it the backhand, forehand, serve, volley, smash, slice, groundstrokes. Berrettini for example has one of the best serves and forehands in the game, his backhand however is susceptible and this weakness has been exploited by opponents, and in part because of this he is yet to win a big title at the time of writing. You constantly need to be making decisions when serving and returning, and when in rallies the need for accuracy is essential, especially when facing the elite players. You can make the correct decision in the shot type you go for but if the execution is just a few millimetres wrong it could cost you the point.

The tennis season is a long one lasting around 11 months of the year, and it requires you to play on vastly different surfaces, in vastly different conditions, indoor and outdoor whilst also adjusting to new timezones and climates. You also have to deal with the different opponent styles that you face from the other end of the court, and adjust tactically. You could on Monday, play a huge server with a great forehand but with a susceptible backhand who doesn't like to be made to hit on the run. So you play to their backhand and try and move them around as much as possible. Then the very next day, you face a great returner and mover with a solid backhand, but with a less solid serve which is prone to mis-firing. What worked for you yesterday, will now definitely not work and you need an entirely new strategy.

Sports that combine the need for endurance, technical skill & mental strength of the highest order should be considered more difficult and demanding Sports that those which only require 2 of those 3, such as Darts & Snooker. And other sports may be more physically demanding than tennis, but do not require the same level of diverse technical skills.

Tennis is one of the most popular individual sports in the world when it comes to global participation, with it being one of the biggest sports across many continents. The ATP top 50 at the time of writing features men from 23 countries and 5 continents. The chances of a kid from the tiny Scottish town of Dunblane going on to top the world rankings in such a global sport, and during by far the strongest and most competitive era of men's tennis were so incredibly miniscule.

Since the beginning of the Open Era in 1969, 29 different countries have produced a singles Champion, 20 on the men's side alone, from 5 different continents. Asia is the only continent not to have yet produced a men's singles Champion in the Open Era, though Nishikori of Japan reached the US Open final in 2014 and India has produced some of the finest Doubles players ever. In comparison, some of Britain's other great Sportspeople have dominated in sports such as Darts & Snooker. The Darts World Championship has produced 2 winners from outside Britain since the event began in 1994 and Snooker has produced 4 World Champions from outside Britain since the World Championships began in 1927.

Murray's achievements of winning Wimbledon, the Davis Cup & 2 Olympic Gold's in a truly global sport have led to him winning the BBC Sports Personality of the Year Award a record 3 times. Murray won in 2013, 2015 and in 2016, he became the first and to date only person in the award's 70-year history to retain it. That 2016 win came in an Olympics year, following GB's most successful Olympics ever on foreign soil, yet Murray's achievements that year stood out amongst all others.

An Unsuccessful Tennis Nation

Great Britain at the time of Murray's emergence had been a very unsuccessful Tennis nation for a long time, particularly on the men's side. Britain had been one of the strongest nations in the world prior to World War 2, but in the many decades since they'd gradually sunk into a bit of a joke for the rest of the world to laugh at. Britain held the biggest and most prestigious tennis tournament in the world, but they hadn't produced a men's finalist since 1938. British tennis hit its lowest ebb in the 1980's when it was considered a successful slam if a Brit was able to win a round or two at the event. Tim Henman had restored some British pride, reaching 4 semi-finals at SW19, but he fell at that hurdle every single time and even he was regarded as a nearly man.

Many of the all-time great British athletes had a recently successful Brit in their field to emulate, who'd opened the path somewhat for them. Murray had to be the one setting the path for future generations himself, it was going to have to him who made the journey through unchartered territory for Britain in the Open Era.

In 2012, he became the first British man in 74 years to reach the Wimbledon final and the following month he became the first Brit to take the Gold in the Olympic singles for 104 years. Later that year Murray went on to finally end Britain's 76-year wait for a men's Grand Slam champion at the US Open and then the following year he became the first British man to win Wimbledon in 77 years. Given the level of pressure on Murray and the opponent he faced in that 2013 Wimbledon final, Novak Djokovic, statistically unquestionably the greatest Tennis player ever, one of the biggest winners and mentally resilient people sport has ever seen, it has a strong argument for being the greatest victory ever achieved by a British athlete.

It's unlikely any British athlete has ever been under the level of pressure and expectation that Murray had placed on him to win Wimbledon, and not only did he win it, he won it twice. In doing so becoming the only Brit male or female to win multiple Wimbledon singles titles in the Open Era. Murray also ended Britain's 79-year wait to be Davis Cup Champions in 2015, and the following year became the first British man to reach the world number 1 spot since 1941. At Queens, Britain had been without a men's winner since 1938, Murray went on to win the event 5 times, more than anyone else and for this achievement Queens Club immediately announced on his retirement that they will be changing their arena's name to the "Andy Murray Arena" in acknowledgement of their greatest Champion.

In the Open Era, Tim Henman held the record for the British man with the most wins with 496. Murray went onto achieve 243 more. Since the Second World War only two British men had reached a Grand Slam final prior to Murray, John Lloyd and Canadian-Born Greg Rusedski who only switched to British Citizenship in his early 20's. They reached 1 each for a total of 2, Murray had already bettered this by age 24 and his total of 11 Grand Slam finals is more than every other British singles player male and female combined in the Open Era, including Raducanu's 2021 US Open final.

Andy reigned as the British Number 1 for 140 consecutive months, a period of just under 12 years, with only long-term injury ending the run, which undoubtedly otherwise would have gone on for considerably longer. Murray set numerous records in British tennis as the first and only man or player to do many things. He stands alone in the professional era of Tennis as a giant of the British game and his achievements in the sport led him to become the youngest person in modern times to be knighted, earning him the title of 'Sir' before his 30th Birthday.

What Made Him So Good?

What made Murray so good at tennis? Why was he able to compete against the Big 3 for so long, beat them more often than anyone else and dominate the rest of the field? Murray was one of the best returners ever, rated in the same category as the likes of Djokovic, Agassi & Connors when it came to the quality of his return and between August 2015 and June 2017, Murray had a run of breaking his opponent's serve at least once for a run of 136 consecutive matches. That run only coming to an end due to the hip injury.

His ability to read the serve, quickly spotting patterns combined with his reaction speed due to incredible hand eye coordination and speed of movement made him so hard to ace or hit an unreturnable serve against. A great example of this came in the 2016 Wimbledon final, when Raonic hit a 147mph serve, the quickest of the entire Championships into Murray's body in an attempt to jam him up. Raonic quickly looked to move forward off the back of it, assuming that the serve's quality would put him in the drivers seat to finish the point. However Murray's return was so good that it immediately neutralised the point and as Raonic approached Murray simply hit a passing shot which left the Canadian hopeless.

Murray had one of the best backhands not just on the tour, but probably that the game's ever seen. It meant he was incredibly secure off either wing, his depth and quality of shot was always there. Even when a powerful forward was attacking his backhand, it was so reliable at absorbing attacks, and coming back at his opponents over the net even when he was scrambling deep from a defensive position.

The Scot was forever willing to grind behind the baseline and play patient points with deep returns, making it difficult for opponents to come forward and take over the point. This would often force an error to come from the opponents side as they either couldn't match Murray's shot quality or his patience. But Andy was also capable of turning defence into attack with one shot that suddenly caught the opponent off-guard and with that he would suddenly seize the opportunity to finish the point off with a winner. His speed at covering the court, the IQ in which he played points and as well the angles he could find with the ball all made him extremely difficult to beat.

He was an expert at crafting points, but also with an incredible touch and feel for the ball which allowed him to improvise creatively and surprise his opponent. His ability to retrieve the ball from the far corners of the court deep behind the baseline and force his opponent into playing an extra shot often paid dividends. One such famous example came in the 2015 Davis Cup final, which saw a vintage Murray point at matchpoint. Goffin hits a shot down the line which causes some Belgian's to prematurely cheer what looks like a winner to save matchpoint. But Murray reaches it on the stretch and gets it back over the net. Goffin attempts to finish the point again by hitting to the other side of the court but it's not hard enough or far enough away from Murray and he produces one of the finest shots in his repertoire, the backhand lob, high above the head of Goffin before bouncing comfortably in for a winner.

Murray's exquisite touch and feel for the ball always made him a good watch when facing lanky "servebots" who would hit serves and forehands with incredible power. It was always exciting to see Murray often find a way to neutralise all that power, bringing them to the net with his magnificent sliced dropshot, before either hitting a perfect lob over them or a brilliant passing shot often on the run. His ability to reach their attempted winners and force them to keep playing an extra shot or two helped Murray to achieve a great record against the tallest and hardest hitting guys on the tour.

Murray's fitness and durability also made him so difficult to beat. His fitness allowing him to never slow up on the court and keep sprinting for everything. This meant the opponents margin for error was small as if they didn't do enough with their shot, for example if they didn't perfectly execute a dropshot, Murray would be up at the net in no time punishing it. The best-of-five format suited Murray's game and he finished with a total record of 230-60(79.3% win ratio) in BO5 matches. Prior to the hip surgery his BO5 record was 219-48(82% win ratio).

His durability was one reason he had such a good record in deciding set matches, winning 67.7% (193-92), just over two-thirds of matches that went the distance in either best-of-three or best-of-five formats. There was many matches he probably should have lost, but he somehow snatched victory in, just by hanging in there and allowing his opponent to wilt physically or mentally before him.

Another reason Murray won so many of these matches that went the distance was his will to win and his refusal to give up. Murray won 16 matches in his career from matchpoint down and that doesn't even include the two in Doubles with Dan Evans at the Paris Olympics. Andy's memorable run to the 3rd round of the Australian Open in 2023, which he backed up by reaching the final in Doha saw him save matchpoints before winning in 3 different matches in the space of 38 days, and this didn't even include the comeback against Kokkinakis from 2 sets and 2-5 down, with Kokkinakis two points from winning.

Murray won 28 of his 42 career 5-set matches (66.6% win ratio), including a record 11 from 2 sets to love down. 2 of these wins came despite having the metal hip and included the win over Kokkinakis in Australia, which was Murray's most infamous win at a major since winning the Wimbledon title in 2016. The match summed up something else Murray possessed, which alot of the true greats have. Simply he had a hint of madness about him. He's a little bit nuts, a little bit crazy. And this helped him when he was able to drag an opponent into a crazy match. They looked uncomfortable there, like a fish out of water, often close to looking and feeling a bit foolish. Whereas Murray thrived in that situation, the chaotic and random nature seemed to somehow suit him.

The madness of Murray could be epitomised in just one point in that match. He trailed Kokkinakis by 2 sets and 2 games to love. It was the 2nd round of the 2023 Australian Open, a tournament Murray had no chance of winning given he'd not reached the last 16 of a major for six years. It was late at night, he'd just played a near 5-hour match in the first round against Berrettini and the prospect of getting back into this match and taking it the 5-set distance was next to none.

Kokkinakis is serving to make it 3-0 when Murray brings up a breakpoint. But the Australian plays with authority on the point, hitting hard accurate shots corner to corner. Murray retrieves them both forcing Kokkinakis to play another shot to finish the point, a smash put-away. Murray retrieves it and forces him to play another, then another, then another, then another until suddenly Kokkinakis is back behind his own baseline and hitting the ball into the net. Kokkinakis appeared to quickly regain control, going into a 5-2 lead, but it was an illusion. Murray took it to a tiebreak, won it and went on to win the match which concluded at gone 4 in the morning.

Consistency at the Grand Slams

Murray reached 11 Grand Slam Finals, only bettered by 8 men in the Open Era. Only 7 have reached more than his 21 major semi-finals and just 6 have more than his 30 Quarter-Final appearances. He is one of only 7 men along with the Big 3, Rod Laver, former coach Ivan Lendl & childhood hero Andre Agassi, to play in all 4 major finals in the Open Era. Murray is one of just 6 men in the Open Era to reach the semi-finals of every slam on at least 3 separate occasions, and the same is true for him reaching the Quarter-Finals of every slam on 6 occasions. Andy reached atleast the Quarters at all 4 majors in the same calendar year on 4 different occasions, which only the Big 3 have done.

Murray has 200 Grand Slam match wins, which only 7 men have bettered in the Open Era. Exactly half of those wins have come on a hard court, which is the 7th highest on the surface. The Scot retires with a 200-57 record (78% win ratio). Prior to the hip resurfacing surgery Murray's slam record stood at 189-45(81%).

The man from Dunblane is one of only 5 men to reach 5 Australian Open finals. Between 2010 and 2016, 5 of the 7 finals featured Murray, with the Scot having the misfortune to meet Novak Djokovic, the best player in the history of the Australian Open in 4 of them. Djokovic won all 4, as he has the other 6 Australian Open finals he's played to date. In that 7 year period, Murray was a remarkable 37-0 against non-Big 3 opponents at the Australian Open, with an overall record of 39-7, with 5 losses to Djokovic (including a 5-set near 5 hour semi-final epic in 2012) and 2 to Federer. With 51 match wins at the event, Murray is 5th highest in the Open Era, with a 51-16 (76%) record. Before the two hip surgeries that record stood at 48-13(79%).

Roland Garros was Murray's weakest slam, yet between 2011 and 2017 he reached at least the semi-final in 5 of the 6 years he played (missing 2013 through injury), losing in the quarters the other year. He had a 30-2 record at the event against non-Big 3 players in this timeframe and 30-6 in total. His record at the French prior to the hip surgeries was 39-10, with an 80% win ratio which remarkably put him in the top 10 men in the Open Era at the event, despite it being his worst surface. With 2 defeats and no more wins at the event since the hip resurfacing, that win % has dropped to 76.

Wimbledon is ofcourse the slam Murray is most associated with and for good reason. His 61 wins is only bettered by 5 men, with him trailing 7-time winner Pete Sampras by just 2 wins. His overall record of 61 wins for 13 losses gives him a win ratio of 82%, the 9th highest on the men's side in the Open Era. Prior to the hip surgery, Murray's record was 57-10(85%) which was then the 7th best.

Between 2008 and 2017, Murray made the Quarter-Finals for 10 consecutive years. His record vs non-Big 3 players in this period was 47-2, with an overall record of 48-7. Between 2009 and 2016, he only once failed to reach the semi-finals, successfully getting there on 7 occasions. Murray's special relationship with Centre Court began with a 5-set loss to David Nalbandian in 2005, the first and only time Andy would ever lose from 2 sets up. From the moment he had defeated Stepanek, ranked 299 places above him in the 2nd round of his first Wimbledon, the hopes of a nation would rest firmly on his shoulders each and every summer. From 2005 up until 2017, Murray would be the last Brit standing on either side of the singles draw every year that he entered.

Though the pressure was immense, Murray progressed steadily each year. From the 3rd round in 2005, then it was the 4th in 2006, then a first Quarter in 2008 after injury ruled him out in 2007. Murray then fell at the semi-final hurdle 3 years consecutively, before finally reaching the final in 2012. He was beaten by Federer, but a year later got himself back there again and this time he wouldn't be denied. The expectation was extraordinary after Federer & Nadal's early exit made Murray a strong favourite alongside Djokovic, but the title looked a long way away as Murray trailed Verdasco 0-2, a set from elimination. But Murray refused to lose, roaring back and in the final comprehensively outplayed Djokovic for a straight sets victory.

The US Open was a special tournament for Murray, he was junior champion there in 2004 and 4 years later he would reach a maiden slam final aged 21. It was another 4 years of waiting before he could be on the winning side of a Major final, and that of course came at Flushing Meadows. Between 2011 and 2016, Murray made at least the Quarter-Finals 5 out of 6 years and achieved 49 wins at the event, which is the 9th most in the Open Era. His career record there is 49-16(75%) with his record before the hip injury 45-12(79%).

Murray had runs of outstanding levels of consistency across all the majors. Between the 2011 Australian Open and the 2013 Wimbledon, he reached at least the semi-finals at 9 of the 10 slams he played, exiting in the Quarter-Final at the other. His record against non-Big 3 players at the slams in this time period was 53-1, and 56-8 in total. Between the 2012 and 2013 Wimbledon's, he reached the final of all 4 majors that he entered (skipping Roland Garros 2013 due to injury), winning two for a 26-2 total record in that time.

Between the 2015 Australian Open and the 2016 Wimbledon was another golden period for Murray, as he reached atleast the semis at 6 of 7 slams played, going on to the final in 4. His record vs non-Big 3 players at this time was 38-1, with a total record of 38-6. He reached 3 successive finals in 2016 across the 3 different surfaces, for a 19-2 record.

In the exactly 9 years between Murray's first and last Quarter-Final appearances he played 36 slams, reaching the Quarters at 30, the Semis at 21 and the Finals of 11.

The Big 4 Was Real

"He had a lot of finals. He was an amazing player that probably played in a difficult moment of the history of tennis, because, he shared the tour at the prime time of Novak, Roger and myself. And he was, in my feeling, the one that was at the same level as us, in general terms. Then, in terms of victories, it's true that he achieved less, but in terms of level of tennis, in terms of holding mentally, the winning spirit week after week... He was the only one that was very close to, to be at the same level as us."- Rafael Nadal

Murray registered 29 victories against the Big 3 (12 whilst they were ranked #1 in the World), which is more than anyone else and 12 more than the next man Del Potro. 25 of those wins came at one of the big events (either Grand Slam, Olympics, Tour Finals or Masters event). Murray had a 14-17 record against the Big 3 in finals, which improved to a pretty remarkable 12-7 in non-Grand Slams. He also had a positive combined record against the Big 3 in Masters finals with 8 wins to 6 losses, with 5 wins and 5 defeats against Djokovic, the most successful player in Masters history.

Murray and Federer had a very competitive rivalry, with the Brit leading the head to head after 20 matches. Federer ended with a 14-11 edge, though Murray led 6-3 in Masters 1000 matches. Against Nadal, Murray won 7 of 24 matches but won 3 of their 4 meetings in finals. His rivalry was close with Djokovic for the first 20 matches, before the Serb pulled away to win 25 of their 36 total matches (including 1 walkover). Though in finals it was significantly closer with Murray winning 8 of 19 and he remains the only man to have won finals against Djokovic on every surface: indoor & outdoor hard, clay & grass.

Murray met Djokovic in 7 Grand Slam Finals, making it the third most played men's final in the Open Era, only trailing the greatest rivalries in Tennis history Nadal-Djokovic & Nadal-Federer which produced 9 slam finals apiece. Murray and Djokovic met in all 4 Grand Slam Finals (a rarity only shared by the Nadal-Djokovic rivalry in Men's Tennis) with Murray winning the US Open & Wimbledon finals and Djokovic winning the French Open & all 4 Australian Open finals.

Between 2008 (the year Murray won his 1st Masters 1000 title) and 2016 (the year he won his last) the Scot won 14 Masters 1000 events and reached 21 finals, Federer also reached 21 finals but won only 10, Nadal won 19 from 30 finals and Djokovic won 27 from 39. Murray had 9 seasons as a top 10 player & in those seasons which came between 2008 and 2016 he won 41 ATP titles, which was 6 more than Federer in the same period and only 5 less than Nadal, with Djokovic winning 59.

From the 2008 US Open where Murray made his first slam final and the 2016 Wimbledon where he made his last, Murray played 11 slam finals, which was the same amount as Federer managed in that period and only 2 fewer than Nadal with Djokovic reaching 19. Between 2012 and 2016, the peak years of Murray's career, he reached 8 slam finals winning 3. Federer in the same time period made exactly half, winning 1 of his 4 finals. Nadal also appeared in less finals reaching 6 but winning 4.

It goes without saying that the Big 3 caused Murray alot of pain throughout his career and they prevented him from winning many more events. But Murray went toe to toe with them for around a decade and when playing at his best, he was extremely difficult for those guys to get past. On the two occasions he met Djokovic on Centre Court, Murray won both in best of 3 and best of 5 format. He's the only man to beat Nadal on the Madrid clay more than once, and is the only man to beat Federer in straight sets on Centre Court in a final.

As the stats clearly demonstrate, in terms of Masters titles, ATP titles & deep runs at all 4 majors, he was comparable to the Big 3 for the 9 years he was at the top of the game and absolutely in the same category as them in the years 2012 to 2016 in particular.

Big Titles

In the 11 Grand Slam finals Murray reached, he met either Federer or Djokovic in 10 of them. This limited Murray to just 3 Grand Slams, but given the opposition they came against and the circumstances in which they were won, they certainly feel worthy of more. Murray went into the 2012 US Open final against Novak Djokovic aiming to not only end Great Britain's 76-year wait for a men's singles champion, but also to avoid his name going into the history books as the first man to lose his first 5 Grand Slam Finals.

It's hard to imagine many more difficult circumstances to win your first major than to face Djokovic on a hard court. Murray let a hard-earned lead of 2-0 slip away as they went into a 5th and deciding set. He was one set away from losing from the most commanding position he'd ever reached in a slam final, and had he done so it's hard to believe he'd ever have recovered mentally.

But he steadied himself and outlasted Djokovic in the joint longest final in US Open history, and the 4th longest Open Era final ever at the time. The win felt like an amazing achievement then, but with hindsight it's aged brilliantly, as Djokovic has gone onto establish himself as the best hard-court player ever and the best 5-set player ever. And for Murray to win his first major against Djokovic on a hard-court in a match that went the 5-set distance, showed not just unbelievable quality but extreme mental fortitude. For a long time this was the only 5-set major final that Djokovic ever lost, until he was beaten aged 36 by Carlos Alcaraz in the 2023 Wimbledon final.

In the 2013 Wimbledon final, Murray secured his 2nd major with another victory over Djokovic. Winning this one in straight sets was incredible at the time, but seems even more incredible now given that Djokovic has gone on to be a 7-time Wimbledon Champion with a 3-0 final record at SW19 against the 8-time Champion Federer. In 3 extremely tight sets, Murray was able to out-clutch the most clutch player of all time, breaking at the right times and holding his nerve in 3 consecutive sets to see it out. From his first 8 Wimbledon finals, this was the only one Djokovic ever lost until losing in back-to-back years against Alcaraz aged 36 and 37.

In his 11th and what turned out to be last Grand Slam final match, Murray finally met someone other than Federer or Djokovic in the final and didn't let the opportunity pass, defeating the huge serving Milos Raonic in straight sets. Murray dropped just 2 sets all tournament, both against Tsonga in the Quarter-Finals. Aside from that one small blip where he let a 2-0 lead slip to 2-2, in all the rounds before and after he was borderline unplayable, reaching the final without needing to break out of second gear. In the final he played like a man who'd been there many times before and like in 2013, was rock solid in the clutch moments to see out another straight sets victory.

From Murray's 21 Grand Slam semi-final appearances, on the 18 occasions he didn't go on to win the tournament 16 of his losses came against the Big 3. He had a 10-2 record in either Grand Slam semis or finals against non-Big 3 opponents, with Roddick (Wimbledon '09) and Wawrinka (Roland Garros '17) the only men outside of the Big 3 to beat him at that stage.

Murray recorded 5 wins over the Big 3 at Grand Slams with 2 against Nadal, including in the 2008 US Open semi-final, with Murray progressing through to his first slam final. Murray also notched 2 over Djokovic, both in slam finals and came close to more in a couple of semi-final defeats, including memorably in the 2012 Australian Open semi-final, with Murray falling just short, coming within a few points in the deciding set. Murray managed 1 Grand Slam win over Federer, with what was one of his best ever performances at a major in the 2013 Australian Open semi-final. Federer clung in winning 2 tiebreaks, but Murray's serving and forehand was so exceptional on this day that the Swiss only delayed the inevitable.

The Big 3 played a seismic role on keeping Murray at just 3 slams, but he did still manage to win 20 Big titles. This includes 14 Masters 1000 titles, 2 Olympic Golds & the ATP Tour Finals, aswell as the 3 Majors. Only 5 men have won more on the ATP tour, those being Sampras & Agassi, aswell as the Big 3. He is one of only 5 men to reach every major final as well as the Olympics final, with Djokovic only recently joining Andy, aswell as Federer, Nadal & Agassi on the list.

With 14 Masters 1000 titles, Murray has the 5th most, with 3 more than Sampras on 11. He won 7 of the 9 Masters Events, and reached the final at 8. The Monte Carlo event is the only final appearance missing, with Murray losing in 3 semi-finals there. The Scot won 4 Masters 1000 titles without dropping a set, which only the Big 3 have done that many times.

By beating Djokovic to the ATP Tour Finals title in 2016, he prevented the Serbian from winning the event 5 years in a row, with this being the first time someone had beaten him in the final. Murray also topped up his collection with 2 Olympic Gold medals.

His record for GB

Murray has a phenomenal 45-4 record in singles competition when representing Great Britain. With a 92% win percentage, his win ratio for his country is higher than the Big 3's for their respective nations. 12 wins came at the Olympic Games for just 1 sole defeat, and Murray's Davis Cup record stands at 33-3.

At the Olympics, Murray is the most successful singles player, the only player with 2 Olympic singles Golds, and therefore of course the only player to retain it. He won his first at the 2012 games in London, producing one of the most impressive weeks of his career, roared on by his home crowd. After beating Wawrinka in the opening round, Murray progressed to meet Djokovic in the semis, taking him out 7-5, 7-5. In the final he met Federer, the man who'd reduced him to tears and triggered an immense outpouring of emotion from him just weeks prior on the very same court.

This time the outcome was to be totally different, Murray won in straight sets for the loss of just seven games. The biggest title of his career at the time, Andy had earned it by beating Djokovic and Federer (now regarded as the two best grass courters of all time) in back-to-back matches, both in straight sets. 4 years on, Murray would win again this time in Rio De Janeiro, in another carnival atmosphere. Though this time it was one sounding more like a Football crowd due to the number of South Americans in attendance, with plenty pulling for the Argentine Del Potro (who'd defeated Djokovic & Nadal on his way to the final) whilst the Brazilians pulled for Murray. In an epic battle, Murray came through 3 sets to 1, to put his name in the history books forever.

In between winning those two Olympic Golds, Murray brought more glory to British tennis in the form of the 2015 Davis Cup. Andy led GB past USA, France, Australia and Belgium in the final. In total, GB won 9 singles matches and Murray won 8 of them from the 8 he played. Aswell as the singles, Andy also played 3 Doubles matches alongside brother Jamie and he won all of those aswell. This meant that in winning the tournament, GB had won a total of 12 matches & Andy had been on the court for 11 of them.

Anyone who watched the titanic 5 set doubles match in the semi-final against Australia's Hewitt & Groth in an incredible Glasgow atmosphere, or who saw Murray's Davis Cup-clinching matchpoint in the final against Goffin away in Belgium, will surely never forget it. Perhaps noone has ever come closer to winning a team tournament single-handed as Murray did in the Davis Cup that year. The way he absorbed all the pressure and expectation, with the team's chances resting entirely on his shoulders and used it as motivation to inspire the team to victory was extraordinary to see.

When representing Great Britain, Murray often shone outside of just singles action. Aswell as many great performances alongside his brother in the Davis Cup, Murray also has a 3rd Olympic medal for his run to the Mixed final in 2012 alongside Laura Robson. Given all the memorable moments Murray has provided when representing Britain, it was a fitting conclusion to his career that he should finish at the Olympics on the Doubles court alongside Dan Evans, giving the British public that last drop of excitement.

The Olympics is the career pinnacle for most of the all-time great British athletes, and Murray conquered it twice, aswell as reaching the pinnacle in his own Sport by winning 3 Grand Slams. Though the Olympics singles title has sometimes been referred to as the 5th major, and there's an argument for that especially in the years Murray won it when the final was best of 5 sets.

Titles, Finals & Match Statistics

Murray reached 71 ATP finals which is the 16th most in the Open Era on the men's side and won 46 of them which is the 15th highest total. With a 46-25 record, he has a final win ratio of 66.2%, which is the 12th best. Before losing his last 3 finals with the metal hip, his 46-22(67.6%) record was then the 8th highest win ratio in the professional era. Andy won at least 1 ATP title in 13 different seasons, only 6 men have won in more seasons. He also won multiple titles in 10 consecutive seasons with only the Big 3 & Sampras enjoying a longer run since the introduction of the ATP tour in 1990.

What makes Murray's final record even more impressive is he faced a member of the Big 3 in 31 of them, so 44% of his final appearances came against Federer, Nadal or Djokovic. Murray won 14 of them, with 17 of his 25 final losses coming against the Big 3, and 17 of the 22 pre-hip surgeries. Murray's final record against non-Big 3 opponents stood at 32-8, and 31-5 prior to the hip injury. From the 2007 title he won in St. Petersburg up until his final title in 2019 at the European Open, Murray won 30 from 32 finals against the non-Big 3. This run included 15 straight wins, with Murray not losing a final against someone outside the Big 3 for six years between a 2010 loss to Sam Querrey and when Marin Cilic ended the streak in 2016.

34 of Murray's 71 titles came on the hard courts with 20 coming outdoors and 14 indoors. Only 5 men have ever won more hard court titles in the Open Era than Andy, and Nadal is not one of them, winning 9 fewer than Murray. 8 of the Scot's titles have come on grass, with only 4 men having more on the surface. Murray also has 3 clay court titles, with 2 of the final wins coming against Nadal & Djokovic. Andy's other title was won on indoor carpet, at the 2007 St. Petersburg Open.

Murray played 1,001 matches on the ATP tour with 739 wins, which is the 4th most since the tours introduction in 1990. His 73.8% win ratio puts him at 17th on the all-time men's list in the professional era. His record prior to the hip surgeries was 663-190 (77.7%) which was at the time the 9th best Open era record. 200 of Murray's wins came at Grand Slams and 230 at Masters 1000 events, which is the 4th most and gives him the 7th highest win ratio.

503 of Murray's win came on hard courts, which is the 5th most in the Open Era and just 15 fewer than Nadal at the time of writing. His record on grass is 119 wins for 30 losses (79.9%), which gives him the 10th best win ratio for men with at least 50 wins on the surface in the Open Era. His record prior to the metal hip was 107-21, which at the time was the 5th highest and had him above Sampras. His indoor record stands at 115-54 (74.2%), the 10th best ratio in the Open Era for men with at least 100 wins.

The stats show Murray's prowess across surfaces, with him being one of the best players on grass, hard and indoor surfaces over the last several decades.

His 2016 Season

In 2016 Murray had one of the most successful years a British athlete has ever enjoyed. He made the first 3 Grand Slam finals of the year, losing the first two against Djokovic, including his first and what was to be his only Roland Garros final as the Serbian became the first man since Laver to hold all 4 slams simultaneously. But Murray's clay season showed the extent to which he had conquered the dirt, of the 4 clay events he played he reached 3 finals meeting Djokovic in all of them and winning the middle one in Rome, with what was his best ever Singles' championship point, delivering a winner from well wide of the court on the run after expertly reading an attempted put-away from Novak. His performance in that Rome Masters final and aswell when knocking out the defending French Open Champion Stan Wawrinka in the semi-finals at Roland Garros demonstrated just how much Murray had improved on the surface over the years, he was truly an all-surface specialist by now.

Murray had had to wait until mid-May for his first title of the year, but he would go on to make up for it. After losing the RG final, Murray would bounce back to win a record 5th Queens title, a 2nd Wimbledon title and a 2nd Olympic Gold medal as part of a 22-match win streak which was ended by Cilic in the final of Cincinatti. The Scot then suffered two gruelling 5-set losses, first to Nishikori in the Quarters of the US Open, which was a painful defeat as Murray was the best and most in-form player in the world at that time and it felt like a good chance to win another major. Murray then suffered defeat to Del Potro at home in Glasgow which effectively ended Great Britain's Davis Cup reign. Murray had led both matches 2-1, but he quickly shrugged off any disappointment, responding to the set-backs by going on a 26-match win streak (including two walkovers) to win 5 successive tournaments including two Masters titles in Shanghai and Paris.

Before the Paris final, Murray went onto court knowing he was the new world number 1 no matter the outcome but it would have been very short-lived had he lost the ATP Tour Final against Djokovic to end the year. The year end number 1 was on the line aswell as the trophy. To reach the final Murray had beaten the rest of the top 5, including wins over Nishikori and Raonic which were the longest matches in the competitions history. With a straight sets win over Djokovic, Murray became the only man outside the Big 3 to end the year as World Number 1 between the years of 2004 and 2021. With wins over every other top 5 player, this was one of the most impressive tournament wins of Murray's career, proving that at that moment he was hands down the best tennis player on the planet.

Murray played 17 tournaments in 2016, reaching the final in 13 of them and winning 9, including 5 consecutively to end the year. He reached 7 consecutive tournament finals between May and August and had two separate win-streaks of over 20. He became the first and to date only man to win a Grand Slam, the Olympic Gold Medal & ATP Tour Finals in the same year. He finished the year with a 78-9 win-loss record, winning 63 of his last 67 matches after losing the Madrid final. After losing the RG final, Murray was over 8,000 points behind Djokovic in the race, yet managed to hunt him down and improbably catch him to end the year as World Number 1. For his efforts that year Murray would earn around £16.3M, which is the 2nd most any player has ever earned in a calendar year, but it would also come at a cost, as the 172 singles matches he had played in the last 2 years began to take its toll on his body.

The Unluckiest Tennis Player Ever?

Murray played in what was undoubtedly the Golden Age of Men's Tennis and its strongest era. Aswell as the Big 3 or the Big 4 including Andy, the top 10 was made up of exceptional players such as fellow Grand Slam winners Wawrinka, Del Potro & Cilic, aswell as Berdych, Tsonga, Nishikori & Raonic, all of whom would also have reached and potentially won more finals if not for the Big 4 denying them on so many occasions. Murray had a 21-9 record in Grand Slam matches against those 7 names, with 2 defeats to Wawrinka coming after the hip operations. He also has 9-1 record in ATP finals against them, with Cilic the only one to beat him.

Despite facing off against the Big 3 84 times and playing with metal in his hip for 5 years, Murray still had a winning record against top 10 opponents with 105 wins and 96 defeats. Prior to his hip surgeries his top 10 record was 101-80 (55.8%).

From his first ATP final in Bangkok in 2005, where he met Federer in the final, Murray spent all of his career prior to the hip injury competing against Federer, Nadal and Djokovic, players who all have a strong case to be included amongst the top 10 greatest athletes of all time. Given Murray's success against the rest of the top 10, it's likely he would have dominated tennis if not for the Big 3, and if just 1 of them didn't exist, he'd at least have 5 or 6 majors. From 21 semi-finals, 16 times Murray was prevented from lifting the trophy courtesy of a defeat against a Big 3 member. He was also knocked out of a major before the semi-final stage on 4 occasions by either Federer, Nadal or Djokovic.

Against these 3 absolute giants of Sport, Murray was still able to reach the number 1 spot in their era, which is surely one of the greatest achievements ever by a British athlete. He was also able to hold onto the top spot for 41 weeks, which is longer than fellow greats Boris Becker, Ilie Nastase & Mats Wilander managed at the top of the rankings in their careers. Djokovic has a strong argument for being the greatest athlete of all time in an individual Sport, given the amount of records he holds in the era he's played in, and Murray was able to get the better of him in 8 finals, including 2 Grand Slams.

But despite the huge amounts Murray has achieved, he's also not had a great deal of luck. He met either Federer or Djokovic in 10 of his 11 major finals and on the 3 occasions he beat a Big 3 member on the way to a Grand Slam final, each and every time there was another Big 3 player waiting to meet him in the final and deny him the trophy.

Against Federer and Nadal, his age was always more of a disadvantage than an advantage. With Federer being 5 years older, when Murray first began his career the Swiss was in the prime years of his mid-20s. When Murray reached his mid-20s, Federer then had a wealth of experience behind him whilst still being incredibly fit. Murray was only a year younger than Nadal, but it always felt like the gap was bigger, given that the Spaniard was already a major winner as a teenager and had already won every major by the age of 24.

Then at the age of 30 when Murray's age for the first time looked to become an advantage against Federer due to Andy now having more confidence & experience, whilst still having a significant youthful edge over a Federer approaching the other side of 35, that was when Murray's body broke down and he never made a Slam Quarter-Final after the age of 30.

Also sometimes forgotten due to all the success & consistency Murray had is that when his hip effectively ended his career at the highest level, his prime had really only just begun. 2015 & 2016, years in which he won 5 Masters titles, Wimbledon, the Olympic Gold, the Davis Cup & the ATP Tour Finals were really just the beginning of what should have been Murray's trophy winning prime. In this period he was becoming extremely dominant on the court, opponents were beginning to fear him in a similar way they did the Big 3, in the way in which they quickly felt defeated and out of their depth.

A cruel quirk was that in the years Murray was competing for majors, Djokovic was by far the most dominant player and Murray's most regular adversary in semi-finals and finals, with the two meeting in 7 Grand Slam finals, with the Scot losing 5. Between the 2010 and 2016 US Open, Djokovic made the final in 19 of the 25 majors, losing just twice before the semi-finals. But between the 2017 Australian Open and the 2018 Roland Garros he didn't make it past the Quarter-Finals once, due to injuries which caused issues with his form and motivation. This time period was when Murray could have took advantage, now in his prime and taken his slam count up to 5 or 6. But of course, it should happen that just when the path to more majors would have been more open than it had ever been for him, Murray's hip snatched the chance away and it was instead a mid-to-late 30's Federer who capitalised along with Nadal.

In 2019, when Murray had improbably battled back to return to the tour with a metal hip, he won an ATP title against Wawrinka just months into his comeback. But he hadn't played much tennis over the last few years and desperately needed to spend more time on the court if he was to again become a player who could go deep in the big events. But then the following year Covid struck and Murray was limited to just 7 matches over the whole year. And also with the world locked down, tennis players were away from the tour and forced to spend alot of time training solo. This meant there was little to do but work on fitness, and when the full tour returned players seemed a little fitter, a little faster. Murray's endurance levels and speed at getting across the court had been one of his superpowers and one of his advantages over the rest, now it would no longer be the case.

The Comeback

Constant severe hip pain took Murray off the court during his peak. His love for the sport, sheer force of will and stubbornness saw him then return to the game with metal implants inserted into the hip to absorb the surface impact. Noone in singles tennis had previously returned to play in a similar situation, so there was no measuring stick on how the return would go.

In the first months back on the tour, Murray won 2 titles, one with Feliciano Lopez in the Doubles at Queens and the other in singles against Wawrinka in the European Open. For the 5 years Murray would play on with the metal hip this would be as good as it got, though he was able to reach a further 3 ATP finals. But the former World Number 1 had to live with being less than 50% of what he once was.

The player who was once capable of beating Djokovic on hard, Federer on grass and Nadal on clay now had to accept losing regularly in the early rounds of draws against low ranked players. And he did so with a remarkable level of humility, without feeling sorry for himself that he was now reduced to this, that injuries had stolen his time at the very top. Free of ego, Murray endured what must have been at times highly frustrating, with his body unable to do what his mind wanted it to anymore.

Whilst his once-great rivals added to their legacies with Djokovic and Nadal reaching over 20 slams each, Murray continued to grind away, even dropping down to the challenger tour. At less than half of what he once was, he hung around the top 50 for years, reaching as high as 36 in the world with the metal hip, getting right to the edge of being seeded for a major again. His love for the sport kept him going, and the odd bit of magic here and there gave him the encouragement he needed to keep fighting. Like Muhammad Ali in the late '70s, Murray may have been a shadow of his former self but he went on raging against the dying of the light, refusing to quit on anyone's terms but his own. He soaked up the punishment against those he would have toyed with in his prime, without any self-pity, out of sheer love for the fight.

Legacy

Sport ultimately is about entertaining its billions of viewers, making them feel something and for a brief time making the outcome of that sporting event feel like the most important thing in the world. It's doubtful if any athlete has done that better than Andy Murray. You could check the score of a best-of-three sets Murray match and he'd be a set and 1-3 down. You'd check again close to an hour later for the confirmation of defeat and see it was still going, taken to a tiebreak. Murray would be 0-3 down in the tiebreak and you'd again assume it was all over. Then Murray would win the tiebreak and take a 2-0 set lead in the final set. You'd start to relax, the finish line in sight. You'd check back in half an hour later expecting the confirmation of a Murray win and they'd still be going, locked at 4-4. Another half hour later and finally you'd get your winner and much more often than not it'd be Murray

Noone could make you feel as wide a range of emotions as often and as rapidly as Murray. So often he would veer from the sublime to the ridiculous and back. The emotions were only heightened by seeing him go through the exact same emotions on court, all of them clear to see, heart bared on his sleeve. The rollercoasters and level of drama his matches would so often provide made him from an engagement perspective, one of the most entertaining athletes ever. If you wanted to ride the highs and lows with an athlete, there'd have been no better choice than Murray as he experienced the up's and down's with everything in between for the entirety of his career.

The last week of Murray's career at the Olympic Games was an excellent summation of why Murray is so beloved by so many sports watchers. In the opening round he's 9-4 down in the first to 10 points match-deciding tiebreak, he saves 5 matchpoints to come back to win 11-9 alongside Dan Evans. 2 days later and he saves another 2 matchpoints to win 11-9 in the 3rd again. In the end it took 9 matchpoints to finally end the professional career of Andy Murray. Drama loves him and he loves the drama, often finding another level to reach when he most needs it, almost taunting defeat when it feels it has him in his clutches, only for him to say "not today, not just yet."

His love of the game, his love for competing at the sport made him a fantastic ambassador for the game of tennis. Was his behaviour always perfect? No. Was it always utterly genuine, often bizarrely funny? Definitely. Murray found ways to deal with the burden of pressure placed on him not just by the entire country, but also the huge expectations he placed on himself, with Murray demanding near-perfection of himself, knowing that's what was required if he was to beat the Big 3 to a big title. He responded to set-backs and adversity time and again, as the pressure only increased. After losing his first 4 Grand Slam finals, he responded by winning his 5th. After losing in the Wimbledon final to Federer, he came back a month later to the same court to face the same opponent and beat him for the Olympic Gold and then a year later got himself back in the Wimbledon final and this time won it. And in 2019 when injury appeared to have ended his career prematurely at the Australian Open, he battled on for another 5 years.

In total Murray played 1,001 ATP tour level matches, 148 of them with the metal hip. His final win came in his last completed match, fittingly the 1,000th. Murray fighting on for so long with the metal hip and still managing to win more matches than he lost with it on the ATP tour added to his enduring legacy as a titan of British Sport, who kept on fighting longer than anyone could reasonably have asked of him.

With Queens already naming their arena in his honour, it's surely only a matter of time before Wimbledon commissions a statue of him to join Fred Perry, the greatest British man before Murray's arrival. This will go some way toward acknowledging Murray's enormous contribution to Tennis in Britain. And though his contribution on the court may be over, there's plenty left for him to provide for future generations be it through coaching at youth or senior level, or merely through the inspiration his journey will provide others for decades to come.

#andy murray #tennis #novak djokovic #roger federer #rafael nadal #carlos alcaraz #olympics #paris 2024 #parisolympics

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inevitablysomber-dark · 2 years

Text

Shackled (Chapter 10)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Pogue! Reader

Warning: There are some intense, dubiously consenting and nonconsensual sexual themes in this series, MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You hate Outer Banks with a passion and are working hard to get out despite all the obstacles in your way. Rafe himself eventually becomes one of those obstacles after a night of low impulse control. Will you be able to overcome him or with you have no choice but to submit.

Slow Burn

Series Masterlist

Dinner was served.

You were still full from the Chinese you had earlier, but you put a little food on your plate to avoid offending the hosts of the manor.

Rafe sat next to you with one hand holding on to your thigh and the other picking at his place.

“So,” Ward begins, “You must be the infamous Y/N.”

Rafe perks up at the mention of your name. Until now, he’d shown no interest in the conversation at the table and was obviously impatient to get you back to his room.

“Yes sir, that's me,” you nod.

“Charlie’s kid, right?” he goads

You nod, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Charlie was your father's name. If Ward knew his name by heart, that means he was aware of his reputation and, by extension, your mother's reputation.

“That means you’re Tammy’s kid, right, or…” he speculates.

“Yes,” you sigh, nodding your head and looking down at your plate.

Rafe squeezes your thigh, and you’re reminded of when he declared that you would always have him.

So in a moment of comfort, you place your hand over his own and squeeze, showing appreciation for his attempt.

“You know, I used to date Tammy back in my younger days,” he says

“Really,” Rose squeaks.

The statement caught everyone's attention.

“Yeah, if you were ready to become a man, you went to see Tammy.”

You drop your head in embarrassment.

“Dad, are you serious?” You look up to see Rafe, anger apparent on his face.

“What? I’m just saying your mother made some very questionable decisions in life. That's probably why Charlies got rid of her,” he mumbles.

"Dad!" Rafe says

“I thought he was found innocent because there was no evidence,” Rose supposes.

“Oh come on, hun, do you really believe-”

He’s interrupted when you suddenly stand, chair scraping against the floor, and frustration in your heart.

“She left,” you say

“Is that what he told you?” Ward snides, “Listen, your mother was not a good person, and your father even worse, so excuse me if I’m not so keen on having you parade around the town on my son's arm.”

“Ward!” Rose shrieks.

“Dad!” Sarah responds it was the first thing she’s said since dinner started.

Wheezy just sat back, entertained by the scene in front of her, plate empty and eyes wide.

Rafe stands next to you, grabbing your arm and pulling your ear closer to his mouth.

“Let's go upstairs.” he grabs your hand, pulling you toward the staircase. “We’re done with dinner,"

Just as you get to the base of the steps, Ward calls out to Rafe.

“Rafe, I’d like to see you in my office asap.”

“Sure, dad.” moving you to walk up the staircase.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He wraps his arm around your waist and plants a kiss against your neck.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

===

You walk into Rafe’s room, dragging your feet as fatigue seeps into your bones.

Dinner had been…intense.

It turns out Ward already knew who you were. Rumors of Rafe ‘The Kook Prince’ Cameron dating a pogue spread like wildfire.

You felt like you should have done more to keep your relationship with Rafe a tad more private. Maybe, you wouldn’t have had to worry about such a chaotic dinner.

Now you were sat in his bed waiting to get kicked out, as you listened to muffled arguing in what you assumed was Ward's office.

10 minutes in, the yelling became staggered. Still, it didn’t seem to be ending soon, so you decided to get ready for bed, hoping that maybe Ward would forget about your existence. They’re still arguing when you crawl under the covers, browsing through your phone and waiting for Rafe to return.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you were startled awake when you felt a pair of arms wrap around you.

“Hey,” your voice husky.

“Hey,” he says, his voice tense.

You rub your eyes, and he pulls you closer to his chest.

“I’m sorry, “ you say, “ I should’ve just-”

He squeezes you, pulling his chin to the top of your head.

“I told you, you don’t need to be sorry; it was all him,” his voice tight with anger.

“Ok, I just don’t want to be the reason you and your dad fall out.”

“You won’t. Ward’s always been disappointed in me. I’m just a big fat waste of his time.”

“I wouldn’t say that” you wrap your arms around him and press your face against his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I should say anything….”

“Just say it.”

“I know, Ward. I know how he treats people who he thinks are useless” you say

“And how would you know?”

“Well, for starters, my dad works for him” you pull away to sit up and get a good look at his face.

“What does that have to do with you?” he asked.

“The first time my dad messed up on the job, he got fired, was out of a job for a whole year, and he was running around the island, suffering from alcohol withdrawal doing odd jobs trying to pay bills.” Rafe starts playing with your fingers, and you place your hand over his own in retaliation.

“We suffered that year, I had to dip into my own funds to help pay for everything, and it's one of the reasons why he never asks why I disappear during the weekends.” you turn your attention back to his hand and pull it into your own. "Rafe, if Ward genuinely thought you were a waste of his time, then you wouldn’t be here, in his house, eating his food, using his resources.”

“I-” he starts, and you put your hand up to stop him.

“Dad went back several times, begging to get his job back. Ward knew he had a child to care for and still didn’t care. It wasn’t until his business was booming and he needed more hands that he bothered to take him back, and dad has been on his best behavior ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“You don’t need to apologize for Ward,” you say, moving to lay down and hold his face in your hands. “But, since you really seem to care about his opinion of you, do anything, literally.”

He gives you a confused look.

“Invest your energy in something productive, and I promise you, he’ll think rainbows fly out your ass.” you move to lay a peck on his lips. “Just don’t let his opinion of you take over your life.”

“Never.” He pulls you closer by your ass, hauling you into a deep kiss.

And you stayed like that the rest of the night, with no sex or sexual actions. Just you, Rafe, and a make out session late into the night.

#Dark!Rafe Cameron #Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader #Dark! Rafe Cameron x Pogue! Reader #Dark OBX #Pogue! Reader #Pogue Reader #dark fics #Rafe Cameron c Reader #Outer Banks #series #Shackled #Shackled Series #dub con #dubcon #dubious consent

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irrelevantwriter · 2 years

Text

Comfort You

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, 18+ only

Warnings: Language, slight angst/insecurities, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, domestic bliss with our babygirl

Word Count: 3232

Summary: Part Two. This time, it's your turn to make Eddie feel better.

A/N: A role reversal of Comfort Me. You don’t have to read that part to understand this one, but its adorable fluffy goodness, so why the fuck not? Link is below. Enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

Disclaimer: Characters are of age in my fics.

Check out part one here

Check out my other Eddie fics here

*Masterlist in bio.

************************

Eddie dragged his booted feet through the door of your shared apartment, the fatigue of the day settling in tenfold now that he was home.

He’d had a shit day.

He’d woken up late, therefore making him late for work. The blinking of his alarm clock suggested the power had gone off some time in the night, rendering the thing useless. He prided himself on his work ethic, and starting off the day late irritated him. To make things worse, he’d snapped at you on his way out the door, immediately regretting it once he’d sped away. But he’d gotten his karma.

The garage had been a mess. Parts were delayed. People were short on kindness. Which seemed to be a running trend. And his coworkers, who on most days he enjoyed, were walking a fine line with their blasé attitudes. Customers and cars alike were testing his patience, forcing him to take deep breaths throughout the day.

He’d called you earlier to let you know he was going to be late. Late for dinner. Late to apologize.

He felt like an asshole.

He usually kept his composure. He was good about letting things roll off him. But something about today had worked its way under his skin. And then came the insecurities. They ate at him. Reminding Eddie that you were too good for a guy like him. Hitching yourself to a Munson was a foolish thing to do and he’d proven that today by lashing out at you. His wife.

So when he made his way into his home, the guilt sitting in his stomach began to swirl.

You were in the kitchen, humming to the radio, your back to the door. He could tell you were cooking. The scent made his mouth water, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since that morning.

He dropped his keys and wallet off at the small table near the entry. Tried his best to rub away any remaining motor oil on his hands and trudged over to you hesitantly, unsure of how to approach.

You made the decision for him when you looked over your shoulder, meeting his weary eyes. Your own sparkled in greeting. You smiled. It was a smile that made his chest tighten. Not with anxiety. But with love. Devotion. Awe.

You were breathtaking, as always. And the sight of you smiling so brightly made his own lips lift slightly, your bodies meeting in the middle like two moths to a flame.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted, your voice soft and warm as you enveloped him.

He held you by the hips, meeting your pouted lips for a kiss. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You caressed his stubbled cheek tenderly. He didn’t have time to shave that morning. He instinctively leaned in to your touch, feeling a million times better already.

“Tough day?”

He nodded, fingertips digging into your flesh. As if he was afraid you’d disappear.

“I could tell on the phone. M’sorry baby.” You brushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes.

He sighed, feeling overcome with emotion. He held your hand against his cheek, turning your palm up to kiss it. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I was a dick this morning.”

You laughed off his apology, shaking your head. “You don’t have to be sorry, Eddie. S’not like you make it a habit. It was a bad day. We’re all allowed to have them.”

“Still. Doesn’t make it right. Felt bad about it all day,” he insisted, securing his arms around you tighter.

You could see you wouldn’t win this one, so you acquiesced and accepted his apology. “S‘okay, baby.”

A comfortable silence descended, the low hum of the radio the only noise. He held you for a moment longer. Now that he had you in his arms, he didn’t want to let go.

“You hungry?”

At the mention of food, his stomach made itself known and growled. Loudly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You giggled as he hid himself away in your neck.

Eddie let his lips brush your skin, feeling you shiver. Taking pride in making you feel that way.

“I’m starving.” He let his teeth join his ministrations, playfully nibbling at you.

You let him have his way with you for a moment until you felt the familiar push of his hips against yours.

“Why don’t you go take a nice hot shower? Hm? And I’ll keep working on dinner.” You gently detached yourself and pushed at his chest, sending him in the direction of the bathroom.

“Okay.”

You went to walk away, but he pulled your hand, gaining your attention. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you, Munson.”

He let you go and made his way to the shower, feeling lighter than he had all day.

******

Half an hour later he was freshly showered and making his way back into the kitchen. He’d changed into a faded Metallica tee, his favorite pair of gray sweats hanging low on his hips. He ran a towel through his hair, brush in hand as he made his way towards you.

“Better?”

“Mmhm.”

He dropped the brush and bottle of product he’d brought along with him onto the table, choosing to join you at the stove. He embraced you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I have a surprise for you,” you whispered, joining his hands that rested on your stomach.

“You do?”

You moved to take the lid off the pot that sat on the low simmering stove, his eyes following. You revealed what you’d been working on, making him suck in a breath. There, sitting in a pan that’d been gifted to you at your wedding, was a mirage of childhood memories. It was his comfort meal. The one Wayne would always make for him. When they could afford it.

Hot dogs and mac n cheese.

“You mentioned that Wayne would make this for you and—I don’t know—I just figured it’d help you feel better.”

You were nervous. He could tell. You fiddled with your hands as you waited for him to react. You’d learned with him that childhood memories weren’t always a basket of rainbows. Things had been hell for him. And most days he’d rather forget than dwell on them. But in this moment, you’d read the situation perfectly.

It wasn’t until Eddie finally turned you to face him that you calmed. He was smiling. His entire body was filled with so much love that he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, attacking your lips with an eager kiss, hands cradling your cheeks. He felt like he wanted to cry. Like he could cry. But he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the feel of you. Focused on the way your fingers gripped his shirt and your tongue met his.

A true lover’s embrace.

You pulled away first, desperate for air. He let his forehead rest against yours, the air between you intermingling.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“You deserve the world, Eddie.”

He left it at that. He wasn’t going to fight you on it. He wouldn’t win. Not this time.

******

Eddie found himself sitting in front of the couch between your legs, back to you so that you could easily manage his tangled waves.

The food had been just as he remembered and it sat warm in his belly, the bitter acid of guilt now gone. You’d even manage to sneak in dessert. Ice cream.

He was satiated. Content. And utterly relaxed. Especially at that moment with your hands working into his hair.

You’d offer to brush it while it was still wet, adding the necessary product to ensure it wouldn’t be too frizzy after he slept on it. His eyes fluttered closed as you massaged his scalp, a low groan making its way past his lips when your fingers ventured down to his neck.

“Your neck bothering you again?”

“Just tight,” he replied, voice low and slightly slurred now that he was completely at your mercy.

You moved down to his shoulders, working over the knots that sat there.

“You excited about the show tomorrow?”

“Yeah. The guys are finally gonna let me play your song.”

“Really?”

“Mmm, yeah,” he moaned, your movements making him feel sleepy.

“That’s great, baby!”

Eddie was excited to debut the song he’d been working on for the last few months. He’d dedicated it to you. Wrote it about you. And while it was more of a ballad than a heavy metal tune, the guys were willing to let him play it. He thought it had more to do with you than him. They liked you. And they knew it’d be a nice gesture. And earn Eddie some major marital points.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

You worked your fingers back up over his neck and head, sending tingles down his spine. You continued on until your fingers got tired, ending the moment with a delicate kiss to his forehead.

Eddie let his head rest in your lap, his gaze focused on the ceiling, your hands managing to weave themselves back into his hair.

“Ready for bed?”

Eddie grunted. He wasn’t sure if it was a real answer but you took it as one. He shifted so that you could get up and then took your offered hand to help him off the floor.

You didn’t let go of him.

Not when you turned out the lights.

Not when you made sure the door was locked.

Not when you led him down the hall to your bedroom.

Eddie followed willingly, watching the graceful way in which you moved around your shared home. After dinner, you’d changed into your own pajamas. An oversized shirt. One you both shared. You were mesmerizing.

You led him to the bed, and he followed, sitting near the edge. He noticed that look in your eye. The one that made his heart race and his blood pump faster. He felt himself harden, the desire swimming in your irises telling him all he needed to know.

“Are you sleepy?” Your voice lowered an octave. And your lashes did that thing that he loved where they batted innocently at him. As if you weren’t about to proposition him for sex.

That’s what he loved about you. You were subtle where he was overtly obvious. You tethered him to the ground, while he helped you fly into the clouds. A beautiful symmetry.

“Nah, not anymore,” he rasped, matching your tone.

You smiled coquettishly at his answer, stepping between his legs, leaning in to his touch that ran along your exposed thighs.

“Good. I wanna do something for you, baby.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Came his automatic reply.

You bent down to kiss him, hands going to the hem of his shirt. He took your hint and removed it, lips separating for only a moment as he threw the garment somewhere behind him. He explored you under yours, feeling the delicate lace that sat high on your hips. He let his fingers roam under the band, gripping your soft flesh.

He heard a soft moan pass from your lips to his, allowing him the chance to tease his tongue over yours. He widened his legs, silently urging you to straddle his lap, but you stopped him.

“Not yet.” You dropped to your knees, biting your lip.

Eddie eased back, leaning on his hands so that he could see you. His breathing quickened and his hips shifted against the bed, antsy to have you touch him.

You pulled his sweatpants down and he watched as you hungrily licked your lips, eyes trained on his length. He growled when you teased his tip, tongue barely swiping over the sensitive skin.

“Shit,” he cursed, trying hard not to thrust into your mouth.

You looked him right in the eye as you spat onto his heated flesh, and he swore he almost came. He white-knuckled the sheets beneath him, closing his eyes to focus on his breathing. Your hand surrounded him, pumping slowly. Tortuously.

Finally, your mouth descended fully onto him. He moaned, hand instinctively settling onto the back of your head. He didn’t push. He just held you while you devoured him.

“Wanna see you,” he softly demanded, his words coming out more strained than he’d liked.

You understood, stopping momentarily to take off the shirt that still covered your upper half.

His hips moved on their own, rutting up at the sight of you. You didn’t waste a second getting him back into your mouth. You touched him the way he liked. The way he needed.

“Fuck, that’s amazing, baby.”

You let him go with an obscene pop, smiling at his praise.

“Good,” you breathed, sliding your tongue along him like a popsicle. You traced the veins just beneath the skin, keeping eye contact the entire time.

And fuck if that didn’t make him twitch.

He beckoned you towards him, in desperate need of your lips on his. You met him halfway, your hands still at work while he kissed you. Your pace quickened, forcing him to pull away and hiss.

“You gonna cum, baby?�� Your words ghosted over his clenched teeth. They were teasing and a little bit condescending. He loved it.

“Inside. I wanna cum inside you.”

He didn’t care how fucked out he sounded. He needed to be inside of you. That’s what he’d needed all day. It’s what healed him. What made him feel worthy.

You nodded and stood, discarding your panties while Eddie kicked his sweats all the way off. You both moved as one. He shifted up to lean against the headboard while you followed, eagerly crawling into his lap.

You wasted no time in angling yourself over him, gliding your soaked slit over his pink flushed skin.

“Shit, you’re wet.”

You nuzzled into his neck, breathlessly giggling at his awestruck state. He dug his fingertips into the globes of your ass, wanting to slip into your depths so badly it almost hurt.

He kissed you everywhere he could reach. Your neck. Your shoulder. Your chin. He raised his hips when you teased yourself, using every inch of him to pleasure yourself.

“Put me inside,” he pleaded impatiently, eyes rolling back when you sucked harshly at his neck.

“Relax, baby…I got you,” you soothed, slowly sinking down. You took him fully in one go, causing you both to release shaky moans.

You sat unmoving on top of him and he swore he could feel your heartbeat. It was a weird feeling. To feel so at home and so imbalanced at the same time. It was calm. It was chaotic. It was perfect. Being with you, like this, was his drug of choice. You made him feel whole.

“Okay?” you asked, sweeping his bangs aside.

“Yeah…”

You took that as your cue and began to move, rocking slowly. Your hands came to rest on his chest, nails following the inked lines embedded into his skin. He let you do as you pleased, feeling your velvet walls grip him in return.

You swiveled your hips, keeping him encased inside of you. He pulled you tighter against him, wishing he could get closer but knowing it was impossible.

Your lips hovered over his, your gazes locked. “Feel good?”

“Fuck, yeah…” he groaned, feeling that familiar clench of your inner muscles around him. “S’good, baby.”

He mouthed at your breasts, finding a nipple and sucking. You gasped, hips picking up speed.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whined, finding your clit. You buried your face into his neck, leaning forward so he could hit that spot deep within.

He could hear the way your skin slid against his. Hear how much you wanted him. How much you craved him. The thought set his body ablaze.

He began to meet your movements, thrusting up. You tugged at his hair and tensed, signaling he’d done something right. He locked his arms around you, trapping you.

“Eddie—I’m—,”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence. He felt the moment your orgasm claimed you. Felt the ripple of every spasm. Felt the urgent way you clawed at him while you ventured through space. It was enough to send him into flight right along with you.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He gritted his teeth while wave after wave of pleasure suddenly rushed over him. Lights danced in his vision as he filled you, pumping for what felt like hours but had to only be seconds. Every stress, every insecurity left his body as he gave himself over to you. And you took it.

Only the sound of your combined breathing filled the room. Your skin stuck to his as he cradled you. It felt like you were both melting into one, limbs entangled to the point that he couldn’t tell where you began and he ended.

You moved first, pressing featherlight kisses to his neck and cheek as you both floated back to solid ground.

Eddie ran his hands over your back, shifting under you slightly. The movement elicited a low moan from you both.

“Sensitive,” you mumbled into his ear, your head resting against his chest.

“Sorry. Want me to move?”

You shook your head. “No. You know this is my favorite part.”

He did know that.

You loved the moments after sex. The moments where both of you were too lazy and exhausted to do much else but collapse onto one another. Oftentimes, he would stay inside you. Just to stay connected to you a little bit longer.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. A lot better,” he rasped, meaning every word of it.

You raised up to meet his eyes, fingers brushing over his lips. “Promise?”

He knew you knew. You knew the kind of tailspin he'd flung himself into today. The insecurities. The doubts. You knew the place he’d sometimes take up residence in. And you were good at pulling him out of it. He was thankful for that. For you.

Eddie playfully nipped at your fingers, lightening the mood. “Marry me?”

You laughed at his joke, rolling your eyes. “We’re already married.” You encircled your arms around his neck, dragging your lips across his lazily. “In fact, I think this is the reason we got married in the first place.”

To accentuate your point, you rolled your hips, reminding you both of the very intimate act you’d just partaken in.

He smirked, squeezing your ass. “You did let me fuck you on our first date.”

You pulled back, faux shock on your features. “We knew each other for years before that, Munson.”

He pulled you back into him, pressing a sloppy kiss to your pouted lips.

“But to be fair, I probably would’ve let you fuck me even if we’d been strangers,” you teased, sending him a flirtatious wink.

Eddie laughed, finally feeling that sense of calm he usually felt when in your presence. It wrapped him up like a warm hug. It was his version of heaven. Being with you, here, in your bed, that’s where he hoped to stay forever. Even after he died. He hoped he was with you.

“Thank you, sweetheart. For everything.” He cupped your cheek, his tone just as serious as his words.

Your eyes glittered up at him, your mouth pulling into a shy smile. “Anything for you, Munson.”

Yeah, he was one lucky son of a bitch.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things

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norgekko · 1 year

Text

──⠀۪ there's always a new way of seeing life... or maybe not

warnings;; mentions of trauma ig, angst, no happy ending bc i like suffer, abandonment, emotional and physical fatigue, i feel bad for chigiri

the sun was shining high in the sky, illuminating chigiri's path as he made his way to the hospital, a few years ago, he had suffered an accident that left him with his leg in a cast and had to use crutches for a long time, but now, you, his beloved partner, were going through a similar situation, with a leg fracture that required surgeries and a long period of recovery

for both, it was difficult to take the situation calmly, chigiri tried to maintain a positive attitude, remembering how his own recovery had strengthened him and helped him find new ways of seeing life, but seeing you in the hospital bed, with your leg cast and your face covered in pain and tears, the sadness invaded him

In the next weeks, chigiri became your caretaker, helping you with everything you needed, from the most basic tasks such as bathing and dressing, to visits to the doctor and physiotherapy, he would always be there to support you..

but as the days grew longer and the nights darker, the emotional and physical burden of taking care of you affected chigiri's health, he found himself struggling with his own memories and emotions while trying to help you overcome your own difficulties, there were nights when he stayed awake, unable to sleep, and days when he felt overwhelmed by sadness and consumed by his memories, he couldn't ignore his thoughts

He realized that he couldn't go on like this, he couldn't keep taking care of you in that way. He couldn't bear the emotional and physical burden he had been carrying since your accident for so long

chigiri was sitting next to you, watching you sleep, there was a slight but noticeable sadness in his eyes. If he didn't do this as soon as possible, he would regret it, and there will be no turning back

He called your parents, telling them to come take care of you starting tomorrow, He had been thinking about it for the past few days, and with a heavy heart and a lump in his throat, He finally made the decision to leave, to get away from you

"Why... why did you do this to me?

the absence of chigiri was felt the next day, your parents told you everything, you wanted to cry, you felt betrayed, abandoned... you couldn't understand why he left you that way after everything you both did for each other

But he knew what was best for both of us, he knew he needed time to recover and find a way to deal with his own traumas before he could take care of someone else

The separation was painful for both of us, He promised to keep in touch with you, but that communication was fading with the passage of time, until there was no trace of him, you never fully recovered from your injury, and chigiri never took care of anyone the same way again

After all, the two were trapped in constant angst, unable to find happiness again, unable to see new ways of seeing life

it was shorter than i thought

it's my first time uploading these things, sorry if there were spelling mistakes, my english sucks HEKGJWKELFJ I'm also horrible at writing but I like sad endings

#blue lock #chigiri hyoma #chigiri x reader #chigiri x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #chigiri hyoma x reader #bllk chigiri

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i-did-not-mean-to · 10 months

Text

Mind Control

Let's kick the darker part of December off with Námo having an idea, Irmo enabling his brother, and Fëanor having a very bad time because of it...

Please be advised that this story, as all stories, are on the fringe of consent and good taste at times.

Please proceed warily! Take care of yourselves, loves!

Prompt: Mind Control

Characters: Námo, Irmo, Fëanor x Nerdanel

Words: 2 210

Warnings: Minor Manipulation, confusion -> dubcon, NSFW, nudity, reference to potential incest, vaginal sex

“Brother!”

Irmo looked up in surprise—it was rare that Námo came to see him at work for the eminently dignified Lord was usually entirely absorbed by his own tasks.

Curiosity and earnest affection gave the Ruler of Reveries wings as he rushed over to the dark shadow’s side, basking in the air of cool efficiency emanating from his older sibling.

Where Nienna was warm and soothing, Námo was the blessed, fresh breeze on a sweltering day, and Irmo loved them both more than words could describe.

“What can I do for you, oh Lord of the Dead?” he asked teasingly—he was too attuned to the desires and impulses of those around him not to notice the discreet thrum of unspoken wishes in his brother’s soul.

“Punishment,” Námo replied calmly.

Sucking his teeth, the Lord of Dreams and Desires shook his head. “That is not my purview, as you well know, and I am sure that my wife would not approve.”

The heavy cowl dissimulating a pale face of heart-wrenching, soul-destroying beauty shifted as Námo cocked his head in disbelief.

“I am the judge of all things—I am the law and the right—and you think that I’d come to you behind Estë’s back?”

It was now the older one’s turn to cluck reprovingly.

“Your wife has given me quite an interesting lecture on the bodies of incarnates—she agrees that, once an impasse such as the one I am facing is reached, one must consider more drastic therapeutic measures.”

“Very well then,” Irmo gave in. “Am I right in surmising that it is one of those pesky Ñoldorin kings of yore who is to suffer terrible nightmares?”

Pride and affection shone in tangible waves from the deep, dark recesses of Námo’s obscuring cloak as he nodded slowly. “Curufinwë Fëanáro himself,” he admitted. “And—ah! Come and see for yourself.”

Irmo followed that exhortation obediently even though he was already perfectly aware of the confused and torturous labyrinth of half-formed wishes and reluctant desires smouldering in the Elf’s soul as embers in a neglected forge.

“Methinks, he doesn’t need any of us to make himself laughably miserable,” he remarked upon sliding up beside his impassive, motionless brother when they finally reached the cell of one of the most notorious of the Children.

“He needs guidance,” Námo started decisively.

“He’s always refused it,” Irmo reminded him gently.

“Yes.” A hint of supercilious humour tinged the Judge’s voice now. “That is why we won’t give him any choice this time.”

Fëanor stared despondently at the wavering nothingness surrounding him when he was quite overcome by a sudden wave of fatigue—he instinctively knew that there was nothing natural about it, but he could not shake off the blinding mist obdurately flooding his leaden mind.

Everything around him seemed to blur into a maelstrom of melting time and swirling events, and he could do nought but bear it, in hopes that sooner or later the sickening vertigo would subside.

When he finally managed to blink and clear his sight, he was standing in a bedroom he had not seen in an eternity. In front of him, stood a young maiden with whom he had once exchanged a few flirty, inconsequential quips in the halls of his father.

“’Náro,” she sighed, undoing the laces of her tunic and laying bare beautifully youthful, pert breasts that were screaming for his attention and tenderness.

“No,” Fëanor muttered. “This is not what happened—we have never…”

He could feel strange, inquisitive eyes burning into the back of his neck, and he rolled his shoulders uncomfortably to brace against the pervasive influx of corrupting madness some evil power was pouring into his befuddled mind.

He had always known, he reminded himself adamantly. Even in the most foolish years of his unsullied youth, he had been painfully aware of his duties, and she had been but the daughter of a minor courtier. He would never have risked her reputation and his hand for a fleeting tryst.

Before his very eyes, however, she now undressed further and extended her pale, soft arms to him, and he found himself unable to withstand the alluring call of her self-forgotten willingness. Too long had he abided in solitude and darkness, condemned to mull over his crimes in utter isolation, and so he could not forego the chance to feel another body’s heat chase the ubiquitous chill that had crept into his immaterial bones.

At the very moment that his body was about to collide with her firm, nubile flesh, though, the whole scene shifted once more.

“Brother,” Ñolo, his half-brother, turned around and gave him one of those tender, slightly awkward smiles that did nothing to distract from the impressive shapeliness of his bare chest. “Have you come to reprimand me for being late? Which one do you like better?”

Fëanor shrank back as the old-familiar burn of illicit, morally abhorrent desire made his thighs clench and his mouth go dry.

Indis’s first-born had ever been as compellingly gorgeous as infuriatingly oblivious of that fact, and he had hated him with a fervent passion for fear of what other feelings and yearnings might be hidden just underneath the thin veneer of his hurt pride.

While Fëanor was battling his baser instincts, Fingolfin was holding up two shirts—one of a subdued eggshell colour and the other one a mesmerizingly deep blue—as if he was truly expecting his seemingly not-all-too-surprising visitor to help him choose between them.

“What do I care?” Fëanor barked so he would not pounce upon that naked flesh and sink his teeth into the bulging muscles to make the other squirm and squeal with pain and rapture alike.

The disappointed, injured look spreading across Fingolfin’s soft, sweet face made Fëanor’s heart clench, but his involuntary reaction of relenting tenderness only gave rise to another slew of all the more vicious snarls and aggressive gestures.

This was just a dream, he tried to tell himself—none of this was real, but when his half-brother’s mouth, soft and desperate, was pressed against his own taut lips, he could not suppress the very real shivering sigh that escaped him.

Endless training sessions in the study as well as in the courtyard had left the younger one’s sensuous fingers strong and unexpectedly calloused, a hidden feature of which Fëanor had not been aware until slightly rough palms slid under his tunic to trace the outline of his well-honed, frantically clenching muscles in a caress so corruptingly naïve and eager that he had to force himself to stay still lest he do something unforgivable like succumbing to the torturous onslaught of shameless seduction.

“This didn’t happen,” he whispered. “I would never have dishonoured our father and his house so.”

“But you wanted to,” an insidious voice, incorporeal and wavering, susurrated, telling Fëanor that he was definitely not alone. He bristled—he had never allowed anyone to know about the strange tension between his half-brother and him, and he was loath to let down his walls even in death and desolation.

“That is of no consequence—what is this? A compilation of all the opportunities I’ve missed? It was a conscious decision, and it does me credit,” Fëanor spat resolutely even as the hands of one who had no reason or right to be here moved in tantalising circles across his trembling skin. “Leave me be! I shan’t submit to your ludicrous corruption!”

Irmo cocked his head at his brother. “He certainly is a fiery one,” he commented, a hint of amused fondness in his voice. “He knows that you are toying with him.”

Nodding, Námo pointed at the edges of the vacillating soul—they could see the ignominious former King of the Ñoldor such as he truly was through the sheer veil of a body his memory had merely conjured up, and it now became evident that Fëanor’s essence had grown more solid already. “Naturally, he persistently misunderstands my purpose, cursed be his defiance, but it’s working.”

“Love does that,” Irmo agreed pleasantly. “That is your design, isn’t it? After neither friends nor family could move him sufficiently, you thought to skirt the brittle, dangerous boundaries of modesty by digging into his more depraved memories? Devious, but effective!”

There was no judgment or reprimand in those words; Irmo was veritably impressed by how ruthless and determined his brother was in the pursuit of the questionable goal of getting Fëanor ready to be returned to those who awaited him most patiently.

“Shall we get on with it? Maybe we should let him…consume the act this time? He seems to grow rather…impatient,” the Lord of Dreams then remarked lightly, nodding at the flickering cluster of bright, pulsating light radiating from the core of Fëanor’s quickly firming silhouette.

“Her then,” Námo relented immediately and smiled when the scene shifted yet again.

“Nerdë!” Half-scream, half-sob, the name of his lost wife sprang from Fëanor’s tingling lips.

“Hush, I’ve only just gotten Káno to stop yowling,” she chided him softly as she sat up in a bed he remembered all too well.

Her smell—clay dust and wildflowers—filled the room, and this time, he did not hesitate to hasten over to let himself be embraced by those impossibly strong and yet incomparably soft arms.

A remnant of doubt lingered in his mind, but he could not say whether this torturously tender scene was a fabrication or a bona fide memory; there had been so many evenings just like this, sitting in bed and talking, while their sons slept down the hallway.

Nevertheless, Nerdanel, the Wise, seemed to have different plans for she pulled him closer to her alluringly freckled chest and sighed when his lips closed around her right nipple through the thin chemise she was wearing. He had married her out of love and folly, and he was sure that none of the chronicles of his terrible crimes would even bother to mention how unconditionally and desperately he had wanted her.

Of course, the staggering number of sons as well as their relative youth on their wedding day were clear signs, but he still hoped that these scheming ink-smeared liars would have the decency to pay homage to Nerdanel’s beauty and his devotion to her appropriately.

“We have to be quiet,” she whispered again, and now, he thought that he recognised her conspiratorial, youthful tone.

As her thighs fell open around him and her broad, nimble fingers tangled in his unbound hair, a surge of compounded darkness made his head spin and his blood boil. Here she was, his one true love, opening up beneath the unyielding pressure of his heated flesh like a blossom in spring, and he might have wept for joy and relief.

Mouthing the name of a child not yet conceived, he closed his eyes as she shifted ever so slightly to steer him resolutely towards the voracious heat of her desire—everything about her touch, her almost mocking smile, and her tiny gasp as he slid into her was so painfully familiar that—for a single, precious moment—Fëanor entirely forgot that none of it was genuine.

How could he have thought of the Valar and their senseless games when Nerdanel’s flesh was writhing—warm and tight—around his cock? Could anyone have faulted him for losing sight of the unfathomably convoluted games of destiny and retribution when he was losing his mind, his heart, his whole self in the velvet abyss of her burning gaze as she met his every thrust halfway?

Her body was strong and glorious, and he worshipped at the altar of her lust as the inexorably increasing pace made his hips stutter against her—Nerdanel laughed breathlessly and surged up to capture his lips in a searing kiss, greedily drinking every tiny moan as she had once lapped dew off green leaves at sunrise.

Nothing mattered besides her—the softness of her breasts against his heaving chest, the clenching ripples of her cunt as her own climax threatened to overwhelm her, and her throaty moans that spurred him ever on—and Fëanor, ever a slave to the fatal flaw of impatience, grabbed her waist possessively to lift her just a fraction before bearing down in frantic movements of unbridled rapture.

Teeth clenching mercilessly around her slender wrist to keep from waking her precious babies, Nerdanel arched into his punishing thrusts one last time; seeing her come undone once again was an image so exquisite that it burned itself through Fëanor’s eyes straight into what was left of his soul.

Throwing his head back in a soundless scream of deliverance, he exploded within her.

Just as he was about to bend down to kiss Nerdanel’s sweat-sheened brow, though, he was whisked back to his cell, alone and shivering. “Come back, you coward!” he bellowed, blind anger and devastating loss ravaging his tortured soul. “Take me back.”

“It actually worked,” Irmo muttered as if he was surprised himself by how successful his brother’s hare-brained plan had turned out to be. “I shall come back soon then?”

“Thank you,” Námo said, bowed, and retreated.

Had he not known better, Irmo would have sworn that the Lord Judge, ever serious, was skipping merrily down the wavering halls of Mandos.

-> Masterlist (by @tolkienpinupcalendar)

Lots of love from me, please take care of yourselves!

#og post #Dead Dove December #Dead dove #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Námo #Irmo #Fëanor #Nerdanel #Fëanor x Nerdanel #Fëanor x Fingolfin #Mind Control #dubcon #manipulation

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