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lila-lou · 4 months ago

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✨ His second exception - Pt. 7/? ✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 6658

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 7 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As the morning light filtered through the curtains and your alarm went off, you groaned in annoyance. You tried to wiggle free from Ben’s grasp, but just as you managed to shift slightly, he pulled you back harshly, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist.

“Don’t you fucking dare get up now”, he muttered, his voice still heavy with sleep. His eyes remained closed, but his grip on you was strong, making it clear he had no intention of letting you go.

You sighed, half-amused and half-exasperated. “Ben, we need to get up”, you whispered, trying to reason with him.

“Just a few more minutes”, he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the comforting weight of his arm around you. “Alright”, you conceded, relaxing back into his embrace. “A few more minutes”.

Ben hummed in contentment, his grip on you loosening slightly but still keeping you close. You felt his heartbeat against your back, the steady rhythm lulling you into a sense of calm.

The two of you lay there in comfortable silence, savoring the peacefulness of the morning. The world outside could wait a little longer while you enjoyed this rare moment of tranquility together.

Just when you were about to turn around and tell him that the two of you really needed to get up, you felt his free hand running down the small of your back to your ass. He squeezed it firmly, making you gasp softly. Without opening his eyes, he spread your cheeks and slid two fingers inside your pussy from behind.

You shivered at his touch, the sudden intrusion sending a wave of pleasure through you. “Ben”, you murmured, a mix of surprise and desire in your voice.

He didn’t respond with words, instead focusing on the slow, deliberate movement of his fingers. His eyes remained closed, his breathing steady as he continued to explore you. The sensation was both comforting and electrifying.

Your breath hitched as his fingers curled slightly, finding the spot that made your toes curl. You pressed back against him, seeking more of the delicious friction. The warmth of his body against yours, combined with the skillful movement of his fingers, was quickly driving you to the edge.

“Ben, we really need to get up”, you whispered, even though your body was betraying your words, responding eagerly to his touch.

“Just a few more minutes”, he repeated, his voice a low, sleepy rumble.

Before you could respond, he pulled out his fingers, and before you could protest, you heard the familiar sound of him uncapping the lube. He knew you were sore, so to not hurt you further, he squeezed a generous amount onto his hand, lubricating his dick thoroughly. Within seconds, he positioned himself behind you and pushed inside your pussy, gripping your hip firmly and knocking the air out of your lungs.

The sensation of him filling you so suddenly made you gasp, your body instinctively arching against him. The mix of pleasure and a slight sting from your soreness made your head spin. Ben’s grip on your hip tightened, his other hand sliding up to your waist to hold you steady.

“Ben”, you breathed, your voice a mixture of surprise and raw desire. His slow, deep thrusts made your breath hitch with every movement.

“Just a few more minutes”, he murmured again, his voice thick with need.

Ben’s hand around your waist traveled up, cupping your breasts tightly as he pressed his lips against your shoulder. The warmth of his mouth on your skin and the firm grip on your chest sent shivers down your spine. Each thrust was deliberate and deep.

“Ben”, you moaned, your voice trembling with the intensity of the sensations flooding your body. His hand on your breast squeezed gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin as his hips continued their steady rhythm. The combination of his mouth, his hands, and the deep thrusts inside you was overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with every passing second.

“You feel so good”, he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. His lips moved up to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “I’ve missed this so much”.

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, your hips pushing back against him, seeking more of the delicious friction. The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and the rhythmic slapping of your bodies coming together.

Ben’s hand left your breast and trailed down your body, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, teasing circles. The added stimulation made you cry out, your fingers digging into the sheets as you felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your belly.

“Ben, I’m close”, you gasped, your voice a desperate plea.

Ben groaned deeply, his voice resonating with raw desire. "I can sure feel that", he murmured, feeling the tightness of your muscles clenching around his dick. The sensation drove him to the brink of his own control, each thrust becoming more urgent, more desperate to reach the same heights of pleasure.

His fingers on your clit moved faster, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. "Ben… I'm going to…", you tried to warn him, but the words were lost in a moan as your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure pulsing through your entire being.

The feeling of you tightening around him, the way your body responded to his touch, sent Ben spiraling into his own release. He groaned your name, his thrusts becoming erratic as he found his own climax, emptying himself inside you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, and there was only the two of you, connected in a way that went beyond the physical. As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, Ben's grip on you softened, and he pulled you close, pressing tender kisses along your shoulder and neck.

You were pressed against Ben’s solid chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, when the loud ringing of his phone shattered the moment. With a groan of annoyance, Ben reached over to grab it, seeing Annie’s name flashing on the screen.

“What?”, he answered gruffly, his voice tinged with irritation.

“Ben, why aren’t you at the tower already?", Annie’s voice came through, sounding both concerned and annoyed.

Ben rolled his eyes, his arm tightening around you as he spoke. “Maybe because I have a life outside of that damn tower. What’s so urgent?”.

Annie sighed on the other end. “We have a situation here. We need you. Now”.

Ben’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the frustration radiating off him. “Fine. I’ll be there when I can”, he snapped before ending the call abruptly.

He tossed the phone aside, his fingers brushing through his hair in frustration. “I swear, they think I have nothing fucking better to do”, he muttered, his annoyance palpable.

The two of you slowly got up, the remnants of sleep making your movements sluggish and groggy. Ben was still muttering under his breath, clearly irritated by the sudden disruption. You both moved through the familiar motions of getting ready, the air filled with a sense of urgency tempered by the need to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

Ben pulled on his suit quickly, his frustration evident in the roughness of his movements. You watched him, feeling a mix of empathy and concern. “Do you want some coffee?”, you asked softly, hoping to ease some of his annoyance.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair.

You moved to the kitchen, starting the coffee maker. The smell of freshly brewed coffee soon filled the air, providing a small comfort. Ben joined you, leaning against the counter as he waited. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the frustration seemed to melt away, replaced by a softer, more vulnerable expression.

You looked at Ben and bit your lip as you handed him his coffee. He took the cup from you, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a moment, the tension in the air seemed to dissipate. Ben leaned in close, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. The familiar gesture sent a warm shiver down your spine.

“Thanks”, he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, a teasing grin spread across his face. “You know, I can smell you getting horny again”, he said, his voice low and playful.

You blushed deeply, rolling your eyes at his teasing. “Ben”, you protested, a hint of embarrassment in your tone.

He chuckled, his mood lightening as he enjoyed the moment. “I’m serious. It’s like my own personal alarm clock”, he continued, his grin widening. “Maybe we should call barbie back and tell her we’ll be late. Very late”.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “We can’t. Duty calls, remember?”.

Ben sighed dramatically, his shoulders sagging in mock disappointment. “Yeah, yeah. Always the responsible one”, he teased, but there was a note of genuine affection in his voice.

You reached up, placing a hand on his cheek. “We’ll have time later”. you promised, your voice soft and reassuring.

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ll hold you to that”, he said quietly, his tone serious despite the earlier teasing.

After finishing your coffee, the two of you headed out the door, ready to face whatever challenges awaited you at the tower. The drive was filled with a comfortable silence. When you arrived, you could feel the urgency in the air, the team already gathered and ready for action.

Butcher glanced over as you entered, his expression a mix of relief and impatience. “Finally decided to join us, then?”, he said, his tone gruff but not unkind.

Butcher’s expression remained serious as he turned his attention fully to Ben. “What’s the situation?”, Ben asked, his arms crossed over his chest, exuding an air of readiness and determination. You took a seat nearby, your eyes following the exchange intently.

Butcher sighed. “We’ve got a real mess on our hands. A bunch of supe kids went on a rampage in Europe, killed a dozen people. It’s chaos over there“.

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose with his half-gloved fingers, his brows furrowing deeper in thought. "Any leads on their identities or motives?".

Butcher shook his head solemnly. "Not yet. It looks like they appeared out of nowhere, no previous records or affiliations. It's like they're new players in the game, and they're not playing by any rules".

A tense silence filled the room as everyone processed the gravity of the situation. The team had dealt with rogue supes before, but this felt different—more chaotic, more unpredictable.

"What's the plan?", Ben asked, his tone steadying as he shifted into leadership mode. "How are we going to contain this?".

Butcher glanced at the map on the screen, tracing his finger over the route they were planning to take. "We've identified their last known location here", he said, pointing to a cluster of buildings on the outskirts of a city. "Our best bet is to move in quietly, assess the situation".

Ben nodded, his expression resolute. “Alright, MM, get the jet ready. We’re heading out in two hours”.

The rest of the team dismissed themselves, each moving with a sense of purpose to prepare for the mission. Ben turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with a determined look.

“We?”, you asked quietly, a hint of surprise in your voice. “I thought you weren’t going on missions anymore?”.

Ben sighed, a mix of irritation and resolve crossing his features. “I need to make a good impression in Europe too”, he said, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And… I actually miss the action. Sitting around while others get to have all the fun? Not my style”.

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “Fun? This isn’t a game, Ben. These kids killed people”.

His smirk softened into a more serious expression. “I know it’s not a game. But it’s what I’m the fucking best at, and we need to make sure these supes are stopped before they do more damage”. He placed a hand on your shoulder. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Butcher. Can’t let him have all the glory, can we?”.

You rolled your eyes, a small smile breaking through despite your worry. “Just promise me you’ll be careful”.

“Promise”, he said, his tone mockingly solemn as he raised his hand as if taking an oath. “I’ll be the picture of caution. As cautious as I can be while kicking ass, anyway”.

You rolled your eyes, feeling a mix of frustration and determination. “I could join the team, you know?”, you mumbled, but Ben wasn’t having it. His expression hardened, the playful edge disappearing from his features.

“No”, he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s too dangerous, especially with what we’re dealing with. I need you safe”.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop you. “I know you’re capable, but I can’t focus if I’m worried about you getting hurt”.

You held up your hands in protest, your frustration boiling over. “Ben, I—”, you began, but before you could finish, Ben quickly grabbed your hands with one of his, his grip firm but not painful. He raised a finger in front of your face, his expression stern.

“Don’t be a fucking brat now”, he said, his voice low and authoritative. The intensity in his eyes left no room for argument, but your own frustration wasn’t so easily quelled.

“I don’t want to be here alone”, you shot back, your voice tinged with desperation. “I want to be there, with you, helping”.

Ben sighed, his stern expression softening slightly as he looked at you. “I get it. I really do. But this isn’t up for debate. I need you safe, and right now, that means staying here”. He leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours. “I need to know you’re okay so I can do what I need to do out there”.

Ben let go of your wrists, his expression softening further. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration mixed with concern.

“Look”, he began, his voice quieter now, “I get that you want to be there with me. I want you with me too, believe me. But I can’t risk losing you again. Not like with Homelander. That was too fucking close”.

You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Memories of that harrowing encounter with Homelander, where you nearly lost your life, flooded your mind. It was a reminder of the dangers that came with his line of work, dangers that seemed to follow you even when you tried to stay out of harm’s way.

“You won’t be a target ever again”, Ben continued, his voice firm with determination. “I’ll make sure of it. But that means you need to stay out of the line of fire”.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration at his protectiveness, despite understanding where it came from. “Ben”, you argued softly, “I always seem to get hurt when I’m not with you. At least if I’m there, I can watch your back too”.

He shook his head, his jaw set in stubborn resolve. “No". He reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I need to know you’re waiting for me when I come back”.

You let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that arguing further would be futile. Ben was stubborn, especially when it came to protecting you.

“Fine”, you relented reluctantly, “but promise me you’ll come back in one piece”.

He gave you a small, sad smile, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “I’ll come back to you. I always do”.

Ben left for the mission, and the rest of the day passed in a blur of anxiety and restlessness. You tried to keep busy, but your mind kept drifting back to him and the dangers he was facing. With every hour that passed without a word from him, your worry deepened.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the floor, you found yourself standing at the door of the baby’s room. The memories of your loss were still raw, but something drew you to that room tonight. Biting your lip, you hesitated for a moment before slowly pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Your eyes scanned the empty space, your heart aching at the sight of the bare crib. The only thing left in the room was the plush eagle, sitting forlornly in the corner of the crib.

You walked over to the crib, your fingers tracing the smooth wooden edges as you stared down at the plush toy. Memories of the hopes and dreams you had for your baby flooded your mind, and you felt a lump form in your throat.

Gingerly, you picked up the plush eagle, holding it close to your chest as if it could somehow bring you comfort. You didn’t cry, though; instead, you felt a profound sense of emptiness. The grief was there, a constant, dull ache that seemed to have settled into the very core of your being.

You sat down on the floor, leaning against the crib, and let yourself sink into the memories. You thought about the nights you spent imagining a future filled with laughter and love, a future that had been cruelly snatched away. But amidst the sorrow, there was also a resolve—an understanding that you had to find a way to move forward, for yourself and for Ben.

As the minutes ticked by, lost in memories and the quiet solitude of the baby’s room, you found yourself yearning for the comfort of Ben’s arms. You knew he wouldn’t return quickly; missions like this required time and focus. Sighing deeply, you slowly got up from the floor and made your way to your bedroom, the plush eagle still cradled in your arms.

The evening light had dimmed further by the time you reached your bed. With a gentle sigh, you lay down and placed the plush toy beside you, as if it were a silent companion offering solace in its own way. The room felt empty without Ben, his presence usually a reassuring anchor in moments of uncertainty.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to find some measure of peace despite the ache in your heart.

But the emptiness persisted, a reminder of the loss you carried with you every day. You turned onto your side, curling up slightly, and clutched the plush eagle closer to your chest. Its softness against your skin offered a small comfort, a tangible reminder of the love and dreams that still lingered in your heart.

As you lay there, the sounds of the house settling into nighttime silence, you whispered a silent prayer for Ben’s safety. The ache of missing your child intertwined with the worry for Ben’s well-being, a complex knot of emotions that felt overwhelming at times.

Eventually, exhaustion tugged at your senses, pulling you into a fitful sleep.

As dawn broke, casting a gentle glow through the curtains, you stirred awake, the ache in your heart softened but still present.

You sat up slowly, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and glanced at the plush eagle beside you.

With resolve in your heart, you whispered a quiet affirmation to yourself and to the empty room. "We'll get through this", you promised, your voice a fragile whisper against the morning light.

Just as you made yourself a big bowl of cereal, your phone rang. The sound startled you, breaking through the quiet morning. Glancing at the screen, you saw your mother’s name flashing. Fuck. You hadn’t talked to her in months, not since you joined Butcher’s team. Swallowing your mouthful of cereal, you hesitated for a moment before pressing the green button to answer the call.

“Hey, Mom”, you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady and casual.

“Hello, dear”, your mother’s voice came through, a mix of concern and warmth. “It’s been a while. I was starting to get worried”.

You sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Yeah, sorry about that. Things have been…busy”.

“I can imagine”, she replied, a hint of curiosity in her tone. “You never did tell me much about what you’ve been up to”.

“Just work stuff”, you said vaguely, not wanting to get into the details. “How have you been?”.

“Fine, fine”, she said, though her voice carried a note of something unspoken. “I’ve missed hearing from you. Your father and I both have”.

Guilt tugged at your heart. You hadn’t meant to distance yourself from your family, but everything that had happened had made it hard to keep up with normal life. “I’ve missed you too”, you admitted, your voice softening. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch”.

“It’s alright”, she said, her tone forgiving. “Just promise me you’ll try to stay in touch more often. We worry about you”.

“I promise”, you said, meaning it. “I’ll try to call more”.

There was a pause on the other end, and then your mother’s voice came through, a bit more hesitant. “Is everything alright, honey? You sound…different”.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s been a rough few months”, you said finally. “A lot has happened. But I’m managing”.

“Do you need to talk about it?”, she asked gently.

You considered her offer, the familiar comfort of her voice tempting you to spill everything. But you weren’t ready for that, not yet. “Maybe someday”, you said, giving her a small smile she couldn’t see. “But not right now”.

“Alright”, she said, a note of resignation in her voice. “Just know that we’re here for you, whenever you’re ready”.

“I know”, you said softly. “Thank you, Mom. I love you”.

“I love you too”, she replied. “Take care of yourself”.

After hanging up, you stared at your phone for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions. The conversation had stirred up feelings you’d been trying to keep buried, but it also reminded you that you weren’t alone. You had people who cared about you, who worried about you, even if you hadn’t been in touch.

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to your cereal, determined to face the day with a bit more resolve.

As you finished your breakfast, you kept your phone close, hoping for any update from Ben or the team. The waiting was the hardest part.

Even though your parents and you weren’t the closest, over a year with no calls was pretty unusual. Not long after your call ended, your phone buzzed with a text message. It was your mother.

“Hey sweetheart, I know it’s been a while, but we’d really love to see you. How about coming over this weekend? I’ll bake your favorite cake. Love, Mom”.

You stared at the message for a moment, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. Your mother’s cake had always been a source of comfort, a sweet reminder of simpler times. The idea of visiting home, of stepping away from the chaos and grief for a little while, was tempting.

With a deep breath, you decided to reply.

“That sounds nice. I’ll try to make it this weekend. Thanks for the invite. Love you”.

You sent the message, feeling a strange mix of anxiety and relief. Going home could be a chance to reconnect, to find a bit of solace in familiar surroundings.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You tried to focus on mundane tasks, but your mind kept drifting to Ben and the mission. Every so often, you checked your phone for any updates, but there was nothing.

As the sun set and evening turned into night, you found yourself wandering back to the baby’s room. This time, you didn’t linger at the door. You stepped inside, carrying the plush eagle with you. You sat down on the floor, leaning against the crib again.

As Sunday came around, you found yourself making your way to your mom’s house. Ben had texted earlier, letting you know that it would take more time than initially assumed to take down the supes. With a bouquet of flowers carefully placed on the passenger seat, you parked your car in front of the familiar house.

The neighborhood hadn’t changed much since you last visited. Memories of childhood flashed through your mind as you approached the front door. You took a deep breath, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you rang the doorbell.

Within moments, the door swung open, and there stood your mom, her face breaking into a bright smile as she pulled you into a warm hug.

“Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you!”, she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine happiness.

You hugged her back tightly, feeling a rush of emotions. “It’s good to see you too, Mom”, you replied softly.

She pulled back slightly, holding you at arm’s length to examine you. “Come in, come in. I’ve missed you”, she said warmly, ushering you inside.

The familiar scent of home greeted you as you stepped into the cozy living room. The atmosphere was comforting, the walls adorned with family photos and trinkets accumulated over the years.

“I baked that cake”, your mom announced proudly, leading you into the kitchen where a delicious aroma filled the air. On the counter sat the cake, tempting and inviting.

“It looks amazing”, you said sincerely, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

“I’m glad you’re here”, she said softly.

Your mom placed a piece of cake on a plate and handed it to you along with a steaming mug of tea. She sat down across the kitchen island from you, watching you intently as you took a bite. The familiar taste brought a small smile to your face, momentarily easing your anxiety.

“How’s your job at Vought?”, she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. You had filled her in on a few things just yesterday. “I heard that piece of shit Soldier Boy took over. You still have your job, right?”.

You nearly choked on your cake at her words, coughing as you tried to regain your composure. Your mom rarely swore, and hearing her use such strong language caught you off guard. She didn’t know about you and Ben, so you decided to tread carefully.

“Piece of shit?”, you echoed, trying to keep your tone neutral.

She leaned back in her chair, her expression darkening. “Yeah, Soldier Boy. When I was younger, he was known for banging more women than spending time at saving the world. Always in the tabloids for some scandal or another. I can’t imagine he’s changed much”.

You swallowed hard, trying to think of how to respond. The stories your mom was referring to were part of Ben’s past, a past you knew well but one he was working hard to move beyond.

“Well, he’s… different now”, you said cautiously. “He’s trying to do better”.

Your mom raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear in her expression. “People like him don’t change easily, sweetheart. Just be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt”.

You nodded, appreciating her concern even if she didn’t know the full story. “I’ll be careful, Mom”.

She sighed, her expression softening slightly. “I just worry about you. It’s a tough world out there, especially with all these supes running around. Promise me you’ll look after yourself”.

“I promise”, you said.

Your mom grumbled, “Anyway, how about your love life? Planning on finding someone to marry? Maybe making me a grandmother?”.

You paused mid-bite, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut. The mention of babies was too much. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you set your fork down, trying to compose yourself.

Your mom’s expression softened instantly, her eyes widening in concern. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. What’s wrong?”.

You struggled to find the words, your emotions a turbulent storm inside you. Finally, you mumbled, "Nothing", brushing away your tears with the back of your hand, trying to appear composed.

Your mom reached out, placing a gentle hand on yours. "It's obviously something. You know you can talk to me, right?".

You nodded slightly but stayed silent, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. The room felt heavy with unspoken words and the weight of your grief.

She sighed, not pressing you further. "Okay, I won't push. But just know I'm here if you ever need to talk".

You gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Mom".

She squeezed your hand reassuringly. "How about we change the subject? Have you seen any good movies lately?", she asked, trying to lighten the mood and give you some space to breathe.

You appreciated her attempt to shift the conversation and managed to engage in small talk, though your heart still ached with the weight of your unshared sorrow.

After a while of catching up with your mom, your dad came home from work. He greeted you warmly, surprised but pleased to see you after such a long time. As the three of you sat at the dinner table, eating the lunch your mom had prepared, the conversation shifted to your work again.

“So”, your dad began, his tone skeptical as he looked at you, “you’re telling me that Soldier Boy actually wants to save the world? Like that cunt Homelander?”, He shook his head, his voice dripping with disdain. “If I could, I’d burn all those fucking supes”.

Once again, you were taken aback by the swearing. It was so out of character for both of your parents, and it underscored just how strongly they felt about the issue.

“Dad”, you said, trying to keep your tone calm and measured, “it’s not like that. Ben—Soldier Boy—is different. He really is trying to do the right thing”.

Your dad scoffed, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll believe it when I see it. All these supes ever bring is trouble”.

Your mom raised an eyebrow at you, picking up on the slip. “Ben? You’re calling him Ben?”.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing your mistake. “Yes, uh, Ben. That’s his name”, you replied, trying to sound casual.

Your mom exchanged a glance with your dad, who still looked skeptical but was now more curious. “And why are you on a first-name basis with him?”, she asked, her tone gentle but probing.

You took a deep breath, knowing that this moment was inevitable. “Because we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. We’re… working closely together, and he’s actually a decent person once you get to know him”.

Your dad frowned. “You’re getting to know him personally, huh? How close are we talking here?”.

Your mom gave you a pointed look, her voice taking on that familiar tone she used when emphasizing important family rules. “You know there’s only one rule in this house. And that is—”.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, cutting her off mid-sentence. ��To never get involved with a supe. I know, Mom. I’ve heard it a million times”.

Your mom sighed, a mixture of frustration and concern evident in her expression. “And yet here we are. Sweetheart, I just don’t want you to get hurt. Supes have a way of bringing trouble into people’s lives”.

Your dad nodded in agreement, his frown deepening.

Your dad nodded in agreement, his frown deepening. “Especially not with Soldier Boy. With him, all that crap started. He’s the reason we had to shoot you up with—”.

Your mom quickly nudged your dad with her elbow, cutting him off before he could finish. “Don’t, Frank”, she muttered under her breath, giving him a warning look.

You frowned, suspicion and curiosity piqued by their exchange. “Shot me up with what?”, you asked, your voice sharp with concern.

Your parents exchanged a worried glance, and your mom sighed deeply. “It’s not something we wanted to talk about, but I suppose you deserve to know”.

Your dad took a deep breath and leaned forward, his expression serious. “When you were born, there were complications. You were… special. The doctors didn’t know what to make of it at first, but eventually, they realized you had traces of Compound V in your system”.

You felt a chill run down your spine at the mention of Compound V. “What? But how? Why?”.

Your mom squeezed your hand, her eyes filled with regret. “It’s complicated, sweetheart. Soldier Boy’s presence caused unexpected side effects. Some of it lingered in the environment long after he was gone. Both your dad and I worked closely with Soldier Boy at Vought for over three years”.

Your mind reeled at the revelation. “You worked with him? Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”.

Your dad sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “We didn’t think it was something you needed to know, not until now. We thought we were protecting you. Back then, we didn’t fully understand what Compound V could do. No one did. When you were born, and the doctors found traces of it in your system, we were terrified. We did what we thought was best to neutralize it”.

Your mom nodded. “We didn’t want you to end up like the others, those kids who were experimented on. We thought if we kept it a secret, you’d have a normal life”.

The room felt heavy with unspoken words and emotions.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”, you asked, your voice shaky.

Your dad sat back in his chair, his expression troubled. “We didn’t want to come across as conspiracy theorists or something. Most people love supes, but after everything we saw at Vought, we just… hated them. Especially Soldier Boy, for what he did to us, to you, affecting our genes like that”.

You sat there, absorbing their words, trying to reconcile the parents you knew with this new perspective. The weight of their revelation settled heavily on your shoulders.

The three of you talked a while longer, the conversation flowing with a mixture of revelations and shared memories. The more your parents explained, the more everything began to make sense.

You finally understood why Ben’s blood could heal you without turning you into a supe or killing you. It was because your body had been altered by Compound V, making it different from a normal human’s but not fully transformed into a supe. This also explained why, out of all people, you were able to get pregnant by Ben. Your unique physiology allowed you to carry his child, something that seemed impossible for an ordinary human.

As your parents shared more details, you learned that you were the only child who hadn’t turned into a supe. All the other kids who had been exposed to Compound V either became supes or were experimented on and died. Your parents, terrified of what might happen to you, had taken extreme measures to protect you. They had brought you to an organization of doctors dedicated to finding a way to kill supes. These doctors had shot you up with various substances in an attempt to eradicate the traces of Compound V from your body.

As the evening came, you found yourself sitting in front of the TV in the living room, though you barely registered what was on the screen. Your mind was racing, not just with the revelations from your parents, but with the thought of how you were eventually going to tell them that you were with Ben.

The idea seemed daunting. Your parents had just revealed the depth of their fear and mistrust of supes, especially Soldier Boy. How could you possibly tell them that you were in a relationship with the very person they blamed for so much of their past pain?

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. The weight of the secret felt heavier than ever. You knew you couldn’t keep it from them forever, but you also needed to find the right moment and the right way to explain it.

You left your parents' house two hours ago, and now you were alone again, the silence of your apartment feeling oppressive. The weight of the day's revelations and the unresolved conversation with your parents hung heavily over you. You yearned for Ben's comforting presence, but he was still on the mission, and there had been no updates from him yet.

You wandered through your apartment, picking up a few things here and there, trying to distract yourself. The memories of your parents' faces, their worry and concern, played over and over in your mind. You understood their fears, but it didn't make your situation any easier. You knew that your relationship with Ben was complicated, but you believed in the person he was becoming.

Sighing, you sat down on the couch and picked up your phone, checking it for any messages. Still nothing from Ben. The silence was starting to get to you, and the loneliness felt more acute with each passing minute. You needed to hear his voice, to feel his arms around you, to know that he was okay.

You decided to text him, even though you knew he might not be able to respond right away.

"I miss you. Hope everything is going okay. Can't wait for you to come back".

You hit send, feeling a small sense of relief just from reaching out. You placed your phone on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, closing your eyes. The day had been emotionally exhausting, and you were starting to feel the weight of it.

After what felt like an eternity, your phone buzzed. Your heart leaped, hoping it was Ben. You grabbed the phone and saw his name on the screen.

"Miss you too. Mission's taking longer than expected. Be safe, I'll be home soon".

A small smile tugged at your lips.

You put your phone down and wrapped a blanket around yourself, trying to find some solace in the quiet of your apartment. The TV played softly in the background, but your thoughts were far away, with Ben. The night stretched on, each minute feeling like an hour as you waited for him to return.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep on the couch, the blanket cocooning you in warmth.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 🥰

Part 8

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78 @uddiifiigj

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy #his second exception

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bettyfrommars · 1 year ago

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I had an anon request asking about Eddie and Reader intimacy sex after a hard day of work, and I meant to write a few lines, but now there is this ❤️ WC:640

boyfriend!Eddie x fem!Reader

18+Only, intimacy smut, boyfriend!Eddie, unprotected p in v, creampie

At first, sex is the last thing on either one of your minds, even though you're very much in love, because life in the real world gets exhausting. But then you go to kiss each other goodnight in bed once you're under the covers and the lights are out, and Eddie makes that needy mew sound in the back of his throat, spurred by the tongue you just slipped him, his thumb grazing your nipple through the cotton of your shirt. The kissing deepens, inhaling the smell of the soap you bought him to wash his face, and the crisp scent of laundry detergent on the pillowcase. "Fuck, I love you," he mumbles on an exhale, helping you take off the baggy tee of his that you wear to bed so that the two of you can press skin on skin. "I thought you were too tired?" you tease, snapping the waistband of his boxers, knuckles grazing the treasure trail below his bellybutton.

"Never too tired for this," he whispers, fingers seeking the heat between your legs. "Open up for me baby, I need to be inside you again." As he says it, he's moving on top of you, getting rid of his boxers, and you're pushing your underwear down your legs, offering yourself to him. Tongues flick between softly parted lips, "you miss it, don't you, baby? You miss my cock inside of you?"

"Yeah, baby, I need it," you whimper, feeling the tip stretch you a bit as he guides it in, and you buck your hips up to meet him, begging. A strand of his hair gets caught in between your lips and you caress it back behind his ear.

His mouth hovers over yours, nose pressing into your cheek, because he wants to stay as close to you as possible, sinking in with a groan. "I love how wet you get for me, baby, fuck. I love that it's all for me."

He's all the way in now, and the sensation makes you shudder, filling you with those familiar intense emotions that make a tear catch in your throat from time to time. "I love you so much," you whisper against his mouth, his hips working, unsure what saliva belongs to who. One of your hands is on his lower back, coaxing him deeper, while the other is holding his face, needing the weight of him.

He hesitates, lifting up just enough to ask if you want him to grab your vibrator out of the nightstand.

"Don't you dare go anywhere, baby. I want you just like this," you insist. You need him as close as he can be for as long as it takes.

You push hair out of his face again as his forehead rests on yours, and his thrusting gets faster, breath hitching in his chest. "I'm gonna cum so hard, holy fuck," he hisses, hips stuttering. "Do you love me, baby?"

"I love you more than anything," you whine, fingers sinking into the flesh of his hip. "I'm so in love with you."

His movements jerk and then still, exhaling a sharp breath, pouring himself into you, pushing it base deep. He always came the hardest when you told him how much you loved him.

He stiffens and rides the wave of bliss for a few seconds longer, and then you have all of his weight on you, cock staying inside until it softened enough to slide out. Your orgasms were plentiful with Eddie, but this time, even without it, your pleasure was equal to his.

Exhaling hot breaths against your throat, he hushed, "I've never loved anyone this much," and then both sets of eyes fluttered heavy and the pillow was calling.

You let him be the little spoon that night.

#Eddie munson #eddie munson smut #intimacy smut #intimacy #boyfriend!Eddie #missionary baby #asks

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defectivevillain · 4 months ago

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born into blood

pairing: Ghostface/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: Christina Carpenter wasn’t the only woman to have an affair with Billy Loomis… Your mother did too. You’re Billy’s child, just like Sam Carpenter. But you saw what happened to Sam—so you keep silent. Your father’s real identity is a secret you will take to your grave. At least, that’s what you think. Then, one day, Ghostface comes calling…

word count: 2.2k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical violence, character death; attempted murder, strangulation, blood, hallucinations; scream (2022) spoilers.

notes: I wrote Ghostface with he/him pronouns, but he remains nameless—so feel free to imagine whichever killer you want.

thank you @palefaceswhore for the beta! 🖤 any remaining mistakes are mine.

You don’t usually answer phone calls from unidentified numbers. But you had a job interview a few days ago, and you still haven’t gotten a response from the company, so you accept the call and bring your phone up to your ear with hope brewing in your chest. You thought you did a decent job in the interview, and you hope the recruiters thought the same.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of breath on the other line. Dread begins to prickle across your skin. Your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth. Just as you summon the courage to speak, the other person speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A shiver runs down your spine at the familiar voice. You immediately hang up and slam your phone face-down on the table. With quick breaths, you pick up your phone and shakily open your phone app again, blocking the contact. It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a prank call mimicking Ghostface, unfortunately—since the Stab movies first came out, unruly teenagers have started doing it rather frequently. But your particular situation is a bit different than that of the average person. After all, Billy Loomis is your father.

For the longest time, you had no idea. But once you turned sixteen, your mother sat you down and told you the truth: she had an affair during her marriage, and that affair resulted in your birth. Safe to say, you were sick to your stomach. That revelation only proved to be much worse, however, when she revealed exactly who she slept with: Billy Loomis, one of the original Ghostface killers. A murderer.

It took you a long time for you to begin trusting your mother again. And a small part of you knows that you’ll never look at her the same again—both because of what she did and because of the years she spent keeping it a secret from you. When you finally moved out from her house, you were mostly relieved. Leaving that house meant leaving it all behind. You didn’t have to meet your mother’s eyes and see a killer’s malice reflected in them any longer.

Time passed and you slowly moved on. Ultimately, you decided that it would be ridiculously dangerous for you to tell anyone. You’ve kept that promise to yourself since your mother first confessed the identity of your father to you. You can only hope the secret dies a swift death, never seeing the light of day. After all, Billy Loomis is dead. You can take comfort in that… right?

Then you hear about Sam Carpenter, and everything comes rushing back. The world had slowly moved on from Billy Loomis, as the Ghostface mask was passed from killer to killer. But once Sam Carpenter was unwittingly thrust into the public eye, you saw your quiet life slowly crumbling before you. You didn’t need to know Sam personally to know how she must’ve been treated for her parentage. The public villainized her—even with incontrovertible proof that she wasn’t the killer. Ghostface is everywhere now. You can’t avoid him, no matter how hard you try. All you can do… is hope that no one else discovers the identity of your father—otherwise you’ll be pursued with vengeance, just as Sam and her friends were.

A ringing sound draws you from your thoughts. You frown and walk through your living room, attempting to discern the source of the noise. Once you walk into the kitchen, you realize that it’s your landline—the one that was supposedly disconnected. You’ve never given out that number to anyone. Hell, the phone hasn’t been used in years. It rings again and you flinch, before shaking your head in disbelief. You should just ignore the call, obviously. But that’s against the rules, a voice in your head whispers. In the movies, if you don’t answer, he’ll just come out and stab you in the back. At least this way, maybe he’ll give you a chance at life. You know this isn’t a Stab movie… but your hand moves of its own accord, grabbing the phone and bringing it to your ear.

“That wasn’t very nice.” That warped, deepened voice sends chills down your spine. “Don’t try that again.”

You’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t a prank call. And on the small chance that this is really happening—that Ghostface himself is calling you—hanging up would be a death sentence. You swallow hard and remain on the line, despite everything in your head screaming at you to hang up and run away as fast as you can. You try to take slow, measured breaths as you look around the room for signs of his presence. You don’t see anything.

“Good,” Ghostface says patronizingly. You try to take a deep breath. It isn’t your father. But that doesn’t quite matter—that deepened, warped voice still reminds you of him. “Now, let’s try that again. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You rack your brain and try to think of something to say. “… Saw .” You eventually respond. Admittedly, it’s hard to focus on the conversation. All you can think about is the high probability that Ghostface is outside of your home—or, hell, even in it—already.

“Really?” Ghostface hums interestedly. “Not Stab ?”

“No,” you respond, your heart jumping in your throat. The mere mention of the movie franchise is enough to make you nervous, as you remember your father. Something stews in your chest and your fingers tighten around the phone as you hold it to your ear.

“Why not?” Ghostface asks innocently. His voice is mocking. “It’s about your father, after all.”

You’re silent, entirely frozen as a victorious cackle sounds through your phone.

“Oh, you thought no one knew?” He continues. “Billy Loomis was a player, and that’s no secret.”

“What do you want from me?” You choke out. You’ve spent more than twenty years outrunning your father’s reputation—doing everything in your power to ensure that no one ever knew your connection to him. And now it’s all slipping away from you. All your hard work is slipping down the drain, falling through your fingers like granules of sand.

As if sensing your unease and distress, Ghostface’s voice has a triumphant lilt to it. “What I want…” He breaks off, “is for you to give in. ” You stare ahead in shocked silence. The taste of bile settles on your tongue. “It’s time for you to carry on your father’s legacy.”

The call abruptly ends. Immediately, you whip around and brace yourself against the kitchen counter, dread churning in your chest. You’ve seen the Stab movies—once Ghostface hangs up, he reveals himself to his victim. You grit your teeth and frantically search your drawers for a knife. When your hand closes around the knife, you turn around to find Ghostface standing right in front of you. The knife in his hand glitters at you mockingly.

“Come on,” he says, his voice still distorted and deep. You squint at him, surprised that you don’t see him holding a voice changer in his hand. There must be something fixed to the inside of his mask. Unfortunately, you’re not given the luxury to muse on that thought, as he steps even closer and forces you to back up against the counter, before standing still. You can sense his eyes boring into you through the mask. “I’ll give you a free shot. It’s your birthright.” Ghostface reaches out with his free hand, taking your hand in his and tilting your knife up until it points at his shoulder.

You swallow hard, your heart thundering in your chest as you try to grasp the reality of the situation you find yourself in. You’re standing before a killer and he’s willingly giving you a chance to weaken him. Despite knowing that you should take the shot he’s giving you, all it takes is a flicker of your father’s visage in your mind’s eye for you to shake your head stubbornly. Making the first move is far more difficult in reality than you expect it to be. Besides, while he’s certainly antagonized you, Ghostface hasn’t actually harmed you yet. Stabbing him without being provoked isn’t something you can get yourself to do, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that you need this advantage he’s giving you.

Silence stretches on, settling in the air between you. Ghostface is standing far too close for you to be comfortable, and his grip on your arm is extremely tight. Eventually, he exhales. “I gave you a chance,” the killer shrugs. Despite that statement, he’s still grasping your hand. “Now, I’m afraid your cameo has come to an end… The killer’s child becomes the victim. It’s poetic justice!”

You don’t get a chance to pick apart that statement before Ghostface is lodging his knife into your left side and pulling it back out forcefully. You scream, quickly pressing a hand to the wound in a rather futile attempt to stop the bleeding. As you fall to your knees, you return the blow and sink your knife into his thigh. He hisses and falls to the side, giving you time to sweep his feet out from under him and clumsily get to your feet. Through your pain-hazed vision, you manage to navigate through your kitchen and into the living room. Remembering your phone in your pocket, you take it out and attempt to call emergency services, only for Ghostface to slam into you and tackle you to the floor. You try to throw him off, but he looms over you and tries to stab you again. You manage to roll to the side, letting out an uncomfortable hiss as the movement sends pain flaring up your side. His knife lodges into the floor beneath you with a solid thunk.

“That’s it,” he spits, grabbing your shirt collar. “Bastard.” The insult is punctuated by a harsh thud, which you realize moments later to be the sound of your head hitting the ground. Your vision is spiraling and blurring as his hands move to your throat. You immediately try to push him off.

Suddenly a bright light flashes before your eyes, and your father is staring down at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes fall to something near your side and you follow his gaze, remembering the knife that is still lodged into the ground. In his enraged fervor, the killer hasn’t seemed to notice it. It’s nearly right in front of him—you’ll have to be very quick to grab it. Your vision is practically pulsing at this point, but even through the blurriness, you can see Billy Loomis’ twisted grin.

Ghostface brutally tightens his grip on your throat and rips the air from your lungs. You’re writhing and thrashing against him, but his hold is strong and unflinching. You don’t have much time, so you make a grab for the knife and manage to free it from the floorboards. It clatters to the ground and suddenly, both you and Ghostface are reaching for the weapon. With a stretch that sends bolts of pain down your forearm, you manage to clasp the knife first—and you don’t hesitate to bury it into Ghostface’s neck. His hands fall from your neck and you frantically inhale, coughing and choking as you push yourself to your knees. Saliva falls from your lips and you wipe at it with your free hand, before focusing your attention on Ghostface once more. He’s sprawled on the ground before you, clasping at his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. But blood is positively oozing out of him, and his form promptly slackens.

You’re still not convinced. Doesn’t the killer always miraculously lurch forward at the last moment, when the victim thinks they’re dead? You decide you’d rather not test that theory, and settle for yanking the knife back out of his neck. The blood loss will kill him, if he isn’t already dead.

After a few more moments staring down at Ghostface and contemplating your next move, you grab at his wrist and feel for a pulse. There’s nothing—a notion further punctuated by the way his arm promptly crashes to the floor when you release it. Your attacker is dead.

The adrenaline that kept you alive begins to fade, leaving you with a bone-deep ache and a stinging sensation in your side. The knife slips from your grasp and falls to the floor with a deafening clatter. Ghostface’s blood is pooling beneath him, and your hands are painted crimson with it. You’re shaking extremely hard, your chest burning from your near suffocation only moments prior. Your equilibrium is all off, and you’re forced to watch from an outsider’s perspective as the world sways and tilts to the side as you fall back down to the ground. Shadows are crawling across the room; when you blink, you see black boots on the ground next to you. Your father crouches down and stares at you, his expression unreadable through your foggy vision. He almost looks to be resisting the urge to reach out to you. A tear crawls down your cheek as you hear sirens in the distance.

“Well done.” Billy Loomis says, his voice reverberating through your ears. He crouches down even more, until he’s sitting next to you. With ghosts for company and pain stitching your body together, your vision quickly fades to black.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #gn reader #male reader #transmasc reader #nb reader #scream #scream x reader #scream franchise #x reader #x gn reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface x gn reader #ghostface x male reader #ya ya

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fanficgirl429 · 9 months ago

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Awake (smut)

Pairings: Mike Schmidt x Reader

Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sex- 18+ only!

---

Staring up at the blank ceiling your mind was going in a million directions. It had been another sleepless night- lots of tossing and turning. Somehow your boyfriend had managed to stay asleep the whole night.

The book on your nightstand was calling your name. Ripping the blankets off your body, you quietly stood up, grabbed your book and left your bedroom. You closed the door quietly behind you so you wouldn’t wake Mike up.

The small house was quiet as you walked into the kitchen, flipping on the light. The brightness made you squint as your eyes adjusted.

Placing your book on the counter, you begin to make your much needed coffee. As you wait for the coffee to start, you flip open your book and begin to read, leaning your elbows against the counter.

Reading was one of your favorite things to do. You loved being able to escape reality and go to a different world. Becoming engrossed in your fantasy world, you didn’t even notice when your boyfriend had come up behind you. He places his hand lightly on your shoulder and you jump, swatting him playfully on the arm.

Mike wraps his arms around your waist and presses his body against your back. His body was still warm from being under the covers and you melted against his touch, placing your hands on his arms that were resting against your body.

“What are you doing awake?” he asks quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply, shrugging. “What are you doing awake?”

“Well I was having a dream about the two of us when I woke up. I was hoping that we could finish what had started in my dream,” he tells you.

“Oh yea?”

“Mhmm.”

His hand plays with hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers danced along your stomach and up towards your breasts. He gently squeezes one while two fingers begin to rub against your nipple.

An ache begins to form in your core as Mike continues to touch you. Once both nipples are standing erect, his hand moves back down your stomach and slides underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts.

His fingers move down to your core, gently moving along your folds. Your breath caught in your throat as a finger gently grazes your sensitive spot.

“You’re so wet already,” Mike mumbles to himself.

He pulls his hand away and you groan, wanting him to put it back.

“Mike please” you beg.

A soft chuckle comes from behind you before Mike pushes two fingers inside you and you let out a soft gasp. He moves them quickly in a ‘come hither’ motion as you grip the counter that's in front of you.

His fingers continue to move and the familiar knot begins to form in your stomach. You try your best for hold onto it as long as possible but with each movement you can feel yourself getting closer.

Not being able to hold on any longer, your walls clench around Mikes fingers and you let out moan.

Mike pulls his fingers away and places them on your hips. He slowly pulls your hips back towards him as you lean your elbows on the counter.

When you look behind you, you see him pull his pajama pants down, just enough to free his length. His brown eyes catch yours as he pushes your underwear and pajama shorts to the side.

One hand grips your hip while the other lines himself up with your opening. Slowly he pushes into you and you let out a small gasp as he fills you up.

He waits a moment allowing you to get used to the feeling before he places his other hand on your hip and begins to move his hips.

From this angle, his length goes deep inside of you, hitting the perfect spot with each thrust.

The small kitchen is filled with the sounds of yours and Mikes heavy breathing and the occasional soft moan.

A knot forms in your stomach as you become closer and closer to your high.

“Faster,” you plead.

Mike obliges and his thrusts become quicker. Within moments your walls clench around him just as he releases into you.

“Fuck babe,” Mike says as he slows his pace before coming to a stop.

He pulls away from you and adjusts your shorts, making somewhat presentable. Your cheeks are flushed and your breathing is still heavy as you turn around to face him, your back leaning against the counter.

Mike pulls up his pajama pants and adjusts himself, his brown eyes staring at you. His brown hair is still messy from sleeping and his cheeks are a soft pink color.

He takes a step towards you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Are you awake now?” he asks, chuckling

“So very awake,” you say, laughing.

“Maybe round 2 after Abby goes to school?” Mike asks. “We don’t have to be quiet.”

“You know I will never say no to a round 2.”

#mike schmidt #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt x you #final mike

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elfy-elf-imagines · 1 year ago

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— Out of the Woods | Maedhros *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst

▹ Words: ~8k

▹ Summary: Thrust into the world of Arda, you find yourself enraptured by the elven lord Maedhros. Yet nothing is ever easy in times of war as your love story unfolds and then unravels.

▹ Notes: Hi, hello, this is about 6k words longer than I intended. Oh well. This is a rewrite of a oneshot I wrote yearsssss ago, but thought it deserved a rewrite. I hope you guys like this because I deleted the original. You have no choice, YOU WILL LIKE THIS MORE. Please tell me you like it, I crave validation. Jk, jk...unless.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Golden.

Glittering and gleaming.

Opulent in an understated way and all too beautiful to be real.

It was the only way to describe the lavish keep the armored guards escorted you into. Men with delicately pointed ears and unnatural beauty were both your protectors and jailers as they paraded you through the city. You weren’t familiar with your surroundings, never even heard of it. You feel as though a place as beautiful as this would be pasted on every tourist’s brochure and dream board. And yet there was nothing familiar.

Even the people seemed so different from you.

“You have brought a mortal woman before me; why is that?” his voice boomed as he sat straight back and stiff as a board on a lavish throne. You were speaking with the presiding ruler if the golden crown atop his head was anything to go by. He was tall and regal, only made taller by the raised platform his throne was built upon, his figure looming over you with an intimidating presence.

His hair was like fire, falling in perfect waves that reached the middle of his back. His skin was porcelain and perfection, clear of any slight imperfections or marks that marred your own. He wore formal attire made from silk, with details of glittering gems that made him look like a sun. The heavy crown resting up his head was made of pure gold and dotted with jewels, each worth more than you’d ever make in a lifetime. But what captured your eyes were his own. Light green, they shone like the reflection of emerald leaves off a crystal clear lake. No poem or ballad could ever capture the beauty he possessed.

He was ethereal, the poster child for what a king should be.

One of the guards pushed you forward, and you nearly stumbled to the ground, but you’d caught yourself in time. You looked up at him, not even knowing his name yet and already being enraptured by him. A god, that’s what he has to be. There’s no other way he could look like that.

You must’ve died and now stand at the gates of heaven. In your current situation, the most illogical answer has become the only one that made any sense.

“T-they found me, your grace, in the...woods.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and your face flushed hotly as red stained your face. Did you address him adequately? Was there any correct way to address a literal angel?

His gaze on you was sharp, making you shrink within yourself. His hair may have been made of fire, but he was entirely crafted from ice. Cold, biting, and bitter, you were surprised your skin wasn’t frostbitten.

“She was rambling like a mad woman when we found her. Despite that, she seems harmless. We thought it best to present her for your judgment, your grace.” The guard spoke with a smooth and even tone, able to look at the elven man unflinchingly. Does one become accustomed to staring at the sun? They must if the guards can directly look at him.

“And so you deign to bring the mad woman before your lord?”

“Times are strange. She may be a gift from the Valar.”

A hush fell over the onlookers before a flurry of whispers filled the courtroom. The lord returned his attention to you, raising a single, inquisitive brow. He was assessing you, determining if there could be any truth to the guard’s words. It made you squirm under the weight of his eyes. They were too piercing and too invasive. He could see past your soul. Your deepest fears and thoughts were laid before him.

“Perhaps there is some merit to the words my guard speaks,” There was a lilt of amusement in his otherwise smooth, dulce voice. It nearly seemed mocking, the way he looked down on you. He leaned to the left side of his chair with his knuckles tucked under his sharp jaw, momentarily taking a more relaxed posture. Yet his gaze on you didn’t lighten; if anything, it became heavier.

“Have you been sent to us by the Gods?”

The throne room became quiet once more.

Your heart hammered against your chest, a lump stuck in your throat. All eyes were on you, the undivided attention making you want to curl in on yourself.

“I don’t know.” You mustered up the strength to speak, attempting to keep the fear drowning you out of your voice. Would he cast you out of the kingdom, leaving you to fend for yourself? You couldn’t survive in the woods alone, but you didn’t want to lie and be heralded as a sign of divine intervention.

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, the room’s walls closing in on you.

All there was to be done was hope he was as kind as fair.

He hummed in response, neither angry nor pleased. There was no grand statement or judgment, instead, he continued to inspect every detail of you. His eyes scanned you up and down in an almost clinical manner like you were a new art exhibit in his favorite museum. He took notice of your odd clothes, maintained teeth, and healthy hair. Strange for a human in these lands to be so… well groomed. Even with the mud that caked your body, you were cleaner than the other humans before you.

“You place me in a strange place. If I send you away, it may anger the Gods, yet if I allow you to stay, I may be dooming the very people who’ve put their belief in me.” He spoke in such a calm tone as if the fate of your life didn’t rest in his long fingers, each embellished with a ring.

The anxiety made your body weigh a thousand pounds. You weren’t even sure your heart was beating, the impulse to check your pulse growing stronger. There was worry in your eyes, creases above your brows that were pulled together tightly.

Yet you didn’t speak, unable to make your tongue form words.

“Will you not plead your cause to me?” He leaned forward; both brows pulled upward, an almost challenging smirk pulling on his lips.

Rendered speechless and playing the fool, you opened and closed your mouth as you tried to remember how to speak.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning back into his seat, his smirk pulling back into a nearly disappointed frown.

“Very well. I shall make the decision for you.”

You prepared to be condemned to the wilds, thrown to the wolves who would surely tear you apart. Head lowered, eyes counting the reflections of sunlight inside the room. Tears threatened to fall, but you forced them away. You would face your imminent death with pride.

“You will stay here.

Gasps of surprise filled the room, followed by mutters of the courtesans. You made no such noise, head snapping up to meet the elven lord’s gaze. There was surprise evident in your wide-eyed gaze. You’d expected the worst, yet that was not what you’d been given.

“In time, we will learn if the Gods truly sent you to us.”

He nodded at the guards around you, and they helped you stand. Shaking and nervous, the guards held your body up as they guided you from the throne room to what would become your quarters. But over your shoulder, you spared one last glance at the elven lord, his green eyes watching your form disappear.

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“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar--” You stumbled over the elvish text, unable to translate the rest of the sentence. There was a crease above your furrowed brows and a slight frown on your face.

It had only been two months since you were unceremoniously dropped here, yet it felt as if no time had passed, but not in a good way. You were like a newborn babe, stumbling in the dark as you attempted to gain your bearings. The faint throb in your head warned you of a headache, encouraging you to put the book down. A warning you didn't heed, you were stubborn, determined to prove you could assimilate.

The court has been a dizzying experience to get accustomed to. Most courtesans treated you like a curiosity, a pretty bird for them to teach silly words and feed salted crackers. They were nice enough and greeted you with pleasant smiles, but it all felt patronizing. As if you were nothing but a simpleton child, but perhaps that’s just how they viewed you; elves were immortal, after all. Nevertheless, they have treated you kinder than expected, correcting your choppy Quenya with lyrical giggles and coy smiles.

The giant oak doors swung open, startling you. Looking up, you watched as Maedhros swept through the library. He grabbed a few books from the shelves and went to a table opposite the room. His hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and his clothes were more casual than what he would don at court. Your eyes followed his form, only looking down when he briefly looked up from his book.

Heat flared to your cheeks, eyes returning to the book before you. You haven’t spoken with him since your initial meeting. He’d never invited conversation, and you were too terrified to do so. Instead, you stole glances at him whenever the moment presented itself, content to daydream about the Maedhros turning his eyes to you.

He’d say hello, inquiring about your stay in Himring. You’d answer him shyly, looking up at him through your lashes. So enchanted by your beauty and quiet whit as the conversation continued, he’d invite you to take a stroll with him around the gardens and then--

Your daydreams were cut short by the loud thump of a book falling. Turning, you watched as one of the library attendants scurried towards the fallen three or so books. A soft sigh left your mouth, and your attention returned to the book you were struggling through.

Picking up where you left off, you struggled through the same sentence. No matter how many times you re-read it, the translation wasn’t clicking. What did tenn’ mean again? A grunt escaped your mouth, the pulsing headache returning. You shut the book, perhaps harder than necessary, and opted to fiddle with the bracelets you wore.

Was it even worth struggling through this silly language? Surely you’d return home sooner or later and this grand delusion would be broken.

Yet the longer you’d spent here, the less likely the prospect seemed. You poured over every map and searched every geographical book, and nothing seemed familiar to the home you’d known.

Lost in your mind, you didn’t hear the scratch of a chair being pushed back nor the light padding of footsteps approaching your table. Only when you felt someone’s presence beside you and red hair loosely hanging did you look up? Maedhros had stood beside you, leaned over to be at eye level with you. His expression was perfectly neutral, not portraying a single thought in his head. Tucked behind his back was his left hand, which he’d lost many years ago. There were whispers in court about how it happened, being hung from a cliff for thirty years. How terrible that must’ve been.

“You seem frustrated.” His common was not as smooth as his elvish, yet speaking a common language with someone was nice. Most of the elves here only spoke their native tongue.

“It’s nothing, your grace,” you looked away from his gaze that was entirely too invasive. You didn’t want to risk that he really could read your thoughts; you didn’t want him to see how often they lingered on him.

“Your lie would be convincing if you hadn’t spent the past hour stuck on the same page,” he breezily replied, pulling up a chair to sit beside you.

Has an hour already passed?

And how did he know you hadn’t flipped pages? Had he paid that much attention…?

“Some words are confusing in their translations; no need to be concerned.” You didn’t want him to burden himself with such a silly thing. This wasn’t something a lord needed to concern himself with. There was also a flush of embarrassment creeping up on you. You wanted him to see you as competent and intelligent, not fumbling over simple translations.

“Allow me to offer insight. It is my native tongue, after all.”

You stared at him for a moment, lips pursed. His expression never wavered, and you couldn’t think of any reason to dissuade him from helping you. Apprehensive, you grabbed the book you’d previously pushed away. There was a light shake in your body from nerves, and you prayed to whatever god there was that Maedhros wouldn’t notice.

Flipping through the page, more delicate with it than usual to avoid Maedhros thinking you disrespectful, you pause on the last page you’d read. You point at the sentence you were struggling with and push the book toward Maedhros.

He leaned forward to read the sentence, and you took the opportunity to appreciate his side profile. His facial structure was sharp, with a tall, noble nose and a strong jawline. Pristine and void of imperfections, he was even more beautiful this close up. With each breath taken, the warm, heady cologne was enough to send you into a dizzy spell. It wasn’t fair for one person to be so…perfect.

He whispered the sentence under his breath, then straightened his posture. As he did, you moved your eyes from his face, looking at the book as if that was where your eyes always were. His eyes met yours as he began to speak.

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta.”

You mimicked his pronunciation, awkwardly fumbling over the words as you did. The faint whisper of a smile appeared on his lips. However, as soon as it was there, it was gone.

“Do you know what it means?”

“No, I was having trouble translating.”

This time he allowed his lips to turn upward into a faint smile, eyes glimmering in the dim lighting of the room.

“It’s no wonder. This is in Sindarin. My understanding is you’ve been learning Quenya.” He reached over and grabbed the book, pulling it closer to him.

“What’s the difference?”

“Quenya is an older dialect, though many of the Noldar still use it, whereas Sindarin is a newer version of the Eldar language.”

You didn’t respond, simply nodding your head as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. Maedhros closed the book much more gently than you initially did, though he made no move to stand.

“I apologize; I have yet to inquire about your stay here. Have you found the accommodations to your liking?”

His question was nearly word for word what you fantasized he would say to you. Was he teasing you? Could he truly read your every thought, or was it just a coincidence?

“They’ve been great, better than I could’ve hoped.” You were nervous, so nervous it wasn’t even a joke anymore. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“And how do you find yourself settling in?” He seemed so relaxed and at ease; why can’t you be more like that.

“I’m getting accustomed, but it’s all so different from the home I knew. I will admit, it is refreshing to speak with someone in a language I am familiar with.”

Maedhros pauses, slightly tilting his head to the side, something flashing across his face.

“Forgive me; I did not think about how few people share a common language with you.”

You shook your head once again afraid of accidentally offending him. “It’s no issue; if anything, it forces my Quenyan to improve.” You wanted to be reassuring, to show that you were more than comfortable with your current circumstances. The last thing you needed was the king thinking you were being difficult or ungrateful.

“But it must be frustrating not being able to convey your thoughts clearly.”

You merely shrugged in response. It was, and sometimes it made you want to scream and break something, but you couldn’t admit that. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

Maedhros hummed in response and pushed his chair back, now standing at full height.

“I must part from you, but perhaps we could meet here again tomorrow, if only so I may offer my translating abilities.”

A tentative smile appeared on your face, and you nodded in agreement. Maedhros tilted his head in a slight nod and turned, exiting the room with a flourish.

Only once you were left alone did you let a high and girlish giggle leave your mouth. It echoed in the quiet library, and unbeknownst to you, Maedhros heard it on the other side of the door.

And so a new tradition began as you and Maedhros met in the library every evening. You’d spend hours with one another, and within the first week, the excuse of studying linguistics had been forgotten. Enraptured in the presence of one another, you were both entirely unaware of the impending war.

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You were waiting by the gardens.

Wearing a new dress, fiddling with the bracelets that adorned your wrists. You were so nervous yet equally excited. Maedhros had broken tradition, and instead of meeting you in the library, he asked to meet you near the gardens.

Your heart was in your throat; nervous goosebumps were all over your skin. It was truly as if all of your fantasies had come to life. Light footsteps echoed on the marbled flooring, and it made you turn. Maedhros, your intended partner, walked towards you, taking long strides.

A smile was placed on your lips, and Maedhros matched it. Long ago had he shed the detached demeanor he so often presented to the rest of the world. Instead, he was open with his emotions - both good and bad - allowing himself to be vulnerable with you in a way so few people have witnessed.

“You came,” he spoke as he closed the distance separating the two of you.

“How could I refuse?” Your smile widened, eyes in the shape of crescent moons. He laughed, low and smooth, offering his arm to you. Your hand wrapped around the crook of his arm, and it fits as if your hand was met for his.

“Shall we?”

You motioned with your hand towards the gardens. “We shall.”

The two of you walked in near perfect sync, wandering through the gardens, making quiet conversation with explosive banter. He was not as stern and rigid as he once appeared. With the moonlight reflected in his eyes and the stars making him shine, he seemed more like an innocent child than a hardened warrior burdened with war and trauma.

You wanted to see this side of him every moment of every day. To see his eyes resemble glass and to hear his hearty chuckle as he threw his head back. Eventually, you gave up the guise of being interested in the flowers, even though they were quite beautiful. All your attention was focused on Maedhros, a sight you were determined to imprint in your brain.

If you were to wake up tomorrow, back in your old bed, in your old apartment, you’d be happy to remember this moment and this moment only. You’d dedicate the rest of your life to writing poems about him, painting portraits, and writing overly embellished love stories. Anything to commemorate Maedhros and everything you’d wanted with him. Even if he didn’t return your affections quite as fiercely.

“Tell me about your home. You never speak of it.”

Your expression fell, your smile dimmed, and your eyes downturned. Home. You hadn’t really thought of it as much. It used to be a constant thought, a thing you wished on every falling star to return to. But now… You couldn’t remember the last time you made that wish.

“It’s…different.” You fumbled over your words. How do you explain something you yourself hardly understand?

“In what way?” Maedhros pries, wanting to know more information. You’d be flattered in any circumstance or with any different topic. Yet the subject of home was complicated and one you hadn’t dared to broach with anyone.

“In every way.” A breezy laugh escaped your mouth, hoping to distract how tense you suddenly became.

“I’d like to hear it all if you’d be willing to tell me.”

“I--” You stuttered over the words, a lump caught in your throat. You wanted to tell Maedhros to bear your entire soul to him, but an inkling of fear gave you pause. Would he deem you a mad woman? Distancing himself and becoming as aloof as he once was.

Yet the two of you had grown so close as of late, and if you’d ever hoped to be more than friends, it would only be fair, to be honest.

“I don’t think I’m from this time.” You began, unsure of the best way to start.

Maedhros stopped, turning to face you. You nearly stumble but manage to catch yourself, meeting Maedhros’ gaze.

“In what way?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pressing your hand into a fist. Fortune favors the bold. You have to be bold if you want this.

“I believe when I was dropped here, I was dropped in the past. My world is so different and so much more advanced in terms of technology.”

He gave you a hard stare, not speaking for a few minutes. The moments of silence dragged on, and you were half tempted to flee and never return. Yet your body had become so heavy, and your feet were bolted to the ground. There would be no escape.

“I don’t know why, but I believe you.” He spoke slowly, as if unsure of his own words as he said them. “At the very least, I believe you believe in what you say, and you have given me no reason to distrust you.”

Your breath that had been caught in your throat was suddenly released as your body slackened. The wide grin you previously wore returned to your face, all the worry lines and creases on your face melting away.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.” You were breathless, a weight you hadn’t even realized was weighing you down, relieved from your chest.

“I can only imagine how you must’ve felt, how confused you were.” His tone was soft and took a somber note, his eyes closer to an emerald green than the light color they previously were.

“I managed to get by.”

Maedhros nodded, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips.

“Well, please indulge me then, and tell me all the wonders of your home. I’m sure you’ve longed to do as such; you assimilated so quickly, I never would’ve thought you were from a completely different time.”

You stared at him a moment longer, a breath caught in your throat. Yet this time, it wasn’t from nerves or anxiety; no, the pounding in your chest was for an entirely different reason. It had everything to do with the softness in Maedhros’ eyes as he looked at you.

And so you indulged his every question and whim, the two of you wrapping around the garden a million times, talking until the moon was at the highest point in the sky, and all was silent.

You were exhausted, holding back yawns every other sentence, but you pushed through, soaking in the time with Maedhros. Who knew when you’d get another chance? But eventually, he caught on, noticing the droop of your eyes and the lethargic pace you walked with.

He guided you back to your chambers with all the chivalry gone from your world. You expected him to say farewell and give a single nod, as he always did when parting ways. He did bid you farewell, his smile warm and vibrant, and he did dip his head into a nod.

But he also placed a kiss on the very edge of your lips before turning and disappearing down the hall.

Frozen, you stood there for who knew how long, face awestruck and hand resting where his lips previously had been.

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Time had seemed nothing more than an illusion.

It seemed to move around you, yet you were the same, unchanged by it. Physically, you may appear the same, yet everything is so entirely…different. Maedhros made quick work of letting you know he intended to court you, and who would you be to deny it.

All the formalities and technicalities that came with courting royalty was dizzying, but Maedhros was always there to center you. Strolls through the gardens and long evenings in the libraries; it made everything more bearable. It was also worth the stiffness that came with court to see the child-like grin that would light up Maedhros’ face when it was just the two of you.

But doubt was a terrible thing.

You constantly feared you wouldn’t live up to not only his expectations, but the expectations of his people. You were a human among elves, and despite not aging, you knew the court talked. Their fascination with you long died out, and anyone who believed you were sent by the Gods was the minority. They hid sharp words behind pretty smiles and musical laughter, but you could see through the fakeness all the same. Their cruel words only helped reinforce the doubts you already had.

And you weren’t the only one weighed down by it.

Maedhros was a far cry from what he used to be. Before the oath, before the torment, and before all the death at the hands of his kin. Could he really be so selfish as to tie you down to him? You were blind to this of course. You knew he suffered from PTSD and trauma, but even as you held him under the light of the moon, you were never aware of just how deep his fears went.

How when he wept in your arms, it wasn’t only for what he suffered, but what he may suffer when you decide you want better. When you finally realized he wasn’t enough for you.

His anxiety twisted into something harsh, manifesting as anger rather than sadness. Yet even as he lashed out, you stayed. Your face would remain perfectly passive, seemingly unbothered by it.

It was another one of those nights.

You both sat on the balcony attached to his chambers, feet dangling over the edge. It was improper for you to be in his bed chambers, especially so late at night, but you couldn’t care about court etiquette at a moment like this.

Your arms were wrapped around Maedhros, keeping him as close to you as physically possible. His head rested in the crook of your neck, eyes shut as his breathing matched the rhythm of your heart. All was quiet except the occasional sniffle from Maedhros. But after a few moments he was the one to break it.

He pulled himself away from you, not an inch of his body touching yours. His relaxed posture suddenly seemed so tense and proper; an austere expression falling over his face. The sudden change was enough to give you whiplash, all the worst of your insecurities coming to head.

A moment passed before Maedhros stood, returning to his chambers. Tentatively, you stood, following after him. What made him suddenly change, as if a light had been switched?

He walked across the room, to the decanter holding a red wine. Maedhros took his time pouring it into a crystal glass before bringing it to his lips and nearly downing it all in one drink. He sent it down and refilled the glass, continuing the same pattern.

The entire time he refused to meet your gaze. Awkwardly you say at the end of his bed, intertwining your fingers in an attempt to distract yourself. It hadn’t worked, all your fears growing the longer Maedhros held the silence. Was it a contest? Was he waiting for you to poke and prod?

“We should dissolve our courtship.”

If you hadn’t already been sitting, you could’ve fallen to your knees. One simple sentence, that was all it took to make the past years come crumbling to nothing.

“What?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Why?”

Another glass of wine drank and another glass filled before he dared to answer.

“While I have enjoyed your company, I do not believe us suited to continue any further,” he said. Even still, he refused to meet your eyes. His hand gripped the table he stood before, his grip so tight you were half surprised it didn’t crack under the weight of it.

“So that’s it.” Your voice was like stone; hard, cold, and unwavering. “You decide to end our courtship, yet you can’t even look me in the eye as you do it.”

Maedhros didn’t move from his position, you however, stood from the bed.

All the anger and frustration, needling insecurities and self doubt came bubbling to the surface. You didn’t bother to push it down, or rationalize it so much you can’t even feel anymore. It came together in one chaotic concoction and exploded.

“Look at me.” You weren’t shouting, but there was force behind your tone. A warning and a threat all in one. Yet Maedhros still kept his back to you. You took three more steps towards him, nearly behind him.

“I said look at me.” The volume of your voice became louder, the stone facade breaking and cracks of desperation shone through you. You couldn’t understand why he was doing this, you’d thought he loved you the same way you loved him.

Had it all been a mistake, were there signs and clues you’d missed along the way?

Finally Maedhros turned to face you, and within moments all of your anger dissipated. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unshed ones exaggerating his red rimmed eyes. He looked absolutely broken, the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Why are you doing this?” You dropped the facade of nonchalance. Tears began to well in your eyes, a slight waver in your voice as you spoke.

Still he didn’t speak.

You closed the distance separating the two of you, grabbing his hand in yours, but he pushed you away. Still you attempted to grab it again and this time he didn’t bother rejecting your touch.

“Mae please, what is the real reason for this?” You looked up at him like a doe, so wide-eyed and teary. Any shred of conviction he previously held onto crumbled as he looked at your face.

He thought marrying you would be selfish, but perhaps this was the more selfish option?

“You deserve better. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

A crease formed on your forehead as your brows furrowed.

“Fuck it.”

Maedhros blinked, stunned by your brash words. For a moment he thought he might’ve misheard, he’d never heard you speak like that. But it would appear he hadn’t misheard you.

“What?”

“I said, fuck it. I love you, and you love me, and god dammit, if you’re not best for me then I don’t want better.”

You moved one of your hands from his, cupping his chin, forcing Maedhros to meet your gaze, an attempt to show the sincerity in every word spoken.

“I love you, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Your words hung in the room, imprinted on the floorboards and the walls.

The Maedhros’ lips were on yours. The kiss was quick and fervent, expressing everything he’d never be able to put into words. All the love and fear that clung to him like a shadow; his entire soul was laid before you. It was dizzying - you were drowning at sea, and Maedhros was your only lifeboat.

You clung to his form, never able to get close enough, one of your hands wrapped around his lithe form while the other reached towards the nape of his neck, gently tugging on his hair. He groaned against your lips and you swallowed the noise, deepening the kiss.

Closer, closer, you needed to be closer.

He pulled you just as tight as you were pulling him, just as desperate if not more so than you were. His one arm wrapped around your waist and held you against his body. His scent was intoxicating, that same heady cologne he’d been wearing when you first spoke in the library. Your teeth clacked against his, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You needed him to know that every word you’d said, you’d meant.

There wasn’t a universe you wanted to exist in without him.

And while that thought terrified you, you repressed it, opting to deal with it later.

Maedhros needed to know you were all in, and you’d spent the rest of eternity convincing him if need be.

At some point he pulled back, the rise of fall of both of your chest and heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

His hand moved from your waist and into your hair, finger combing through it. There were stars in his eyes that you surely replicated.

“Forgive me, I was being foolish. I don’t want our courtship to end, you’re the woman I want to marry. I never want to leave your side and I promise to never send you away, I swear it.”

A smile, small and delicate, lit up your features as you frantically nodded in response. Maedhros huffed out a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours, muttering elvish endearments against your skin.

You closed your eyes, basking in his presence and the musical sound of his voice.

Oh to freeze this moment and live in it forever.

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Everything was silent and calm, but not in a way that would be soothing and leave behind a sense of weightlessness. Instead, it was harsh and grating, mile-high walls building up around you as you subconsciously prepared for...something. Anything that would cause a ripple and disturb this illusion that encased you.

You couldn’t deny it anymore and continue to make excuses for what was so clearly right in front of you. War had brought devastation, and with that came change, and with change came the end of a life you’d built. For so long, Maedhros was able to ignore the Oath he and his brothers had sworn. The Silmarils were forgotten but only for a time. Word had reached Ossiriand that the son of Beren and Luthien had inherited the Silmaril his parents had recovered.

Maedhros, once noble and as bright as the sun, now appeared worn and haggard, his eyes bearing the weight of a consuming madness. Restlessness gnawed at his soul as his insatiable quest for the Silmarils tightened its grip on his heart.

It was only a matter of time before the bubble burst, and you could no longer delude yourself into thinking he was still the same man you fell in love with.

“Maedhros,” you said quietly in hopes of not sparking another argument. “Are you certain this is the wise decision?”

He turned to you, his eyes stern and calculating. It was a stark difference from the love and warmth they used to be lit by. Instead of looking into the sun, you were staring into a fiery furnace.

“It is my duty, as well as my brothers, to honor the Oath we swore to our father. I have no doubt this is the right course of action.” He sounded so detached when he spoke to you. It was the same way he talked to commanding officers and diplomats, not how he should speak to his wife. Not the way he used to talk to you.

The fear you’d felt, the drop of your heart each time you looked into his eyes, intensified. He was teetering on the precipice of madness. You bit your lip, mulling over the right words to keep him from falling off the ledge.

“I understand your quest,” your voice trembled with slight trepidation despite your best efforts to keep it even. “But Maedhros, the toll it’s taking on you��I fear for your well being.”

His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration, impatience, and slight madness evident in his gaze. It made you nearly flinch, but you held your ground.

“You doubt me?” His voice had an edge so sharp it cut you like a knife. It intensified your anxiety, but you swallowed it, steeling yourself against your nerves.

“I don’t doubt your intentions, Maedhros,” she replied, her voice steady now, “but I fear for what this obsession is doing to you.”

Your words seemed to strike a chord within him, his anger momentarily giving way to a flicker of doubt. A moment of clarity within his addled mind. “You think I don’t know the burden I bear?” he murmured, his voice softening now, but the anger still lingered beneath the surface.

“I know, my love,” you replied, much softer this time. You crossed the room’s threshold, gingerly sweeping your knuckles across his cheek. His eyes flutter shut, momentarily allowing your soothing touch to wash over him. “But I can’t bear to see you suffer like this. Your people need you. I need you. Not just as a leader but as a husband too.”

His eyes opened, and the green within them softened as his anger began to wane. Yet the turmoil was still evident within him. He was a man fighting two wars, one war with the forces of Morgoth and the second war within himself.

“It’s not easy for me either, and I curse the day I swore that oath.” His confession made the flicker of hope within you get bigger. Perhaps you’d successfully pulled him from the ledge. “But I cannot turn away from my destiny.”

Just as soon as it appeared, the hope was snuffed out; stubborn and proud, you now cursed what you used to admire about him most.

“But at what cost, Maedhros? The Oath has led to nothing but tragedy and death. You are losing yourself in this darkness, forsaking all that once mattered. Look around you! Our people suffer, our family crumbles, and still, you are blinded by this madness!” Desperate and pleading, you tried to force him to see reason.

As if your touch was made of acid, Maedhros pulled away and sidestepped you, a sea separating you from him. The anger returned to his eyes as they hardened once more. The brief moment of vulnerability was gone, and it was difficult to remember if it had ever even been there, to begin with.

“And for what? For some gems that shine prettily,” you continued; he needed to hear your words, to taste the venom behind them. If he held even an ounce of love for you, he would heed your warning. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost amidst the blaze of anger that threatened to burn the whole world.

“You know nothing of the weight I carry,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a freshly sharpened sword. “You are my wife, not an advisor; quit constantly questioning me and stand by my side as you were intended to.”

The words caught in your throat faded, replaced with a bitter taste of the last bit of love and hope you held for Maedhros dying. Your eyes fell to the floor; there was nothing left to do. The butterflies he incited within you had turned to ash. Everything the two of you built crumbled, and Maedhros gladly helped, knocking down the pillars it once stood upon.

The Maedhros you loved was long gone; what stood before you now was a shell of the man he once was.

“If that’s the way you feel.” It was all you uttered before exiting the room, leaving Maedhros in the dimly lit room with nothing but anger and regret. He wanted to call out to you, to beg you to stay and reassure you he hadn’t meant it. But the grip of madness was unyielding, and even in the depths of sorrow, it would not relent.

The Silmarils that had once been a beacon of hope now seemed to mock him, and the emptiness in his heart felt like a chasm he could never fill.

In the stillness of the night, as Maedhros lay slumbering, you stole away into vast open fields. Cloaked in the darkness that came with night, you ran, nowhere in particular, just so long as it was as far away from Maedhros. Your heart was heavy with the weight of your decision and the finality of the ending of a love you thought would last forever. Yet the echoes of the argument lingered; his harsh words and austere face were a haunting reminder of what had been lost.

“It’s better this way,” you told yourself.

You would carry the memory of Maedhros until your dying day, praying that he might find solace and release from his Oath. But you couldn’t count on it, and you wouldn’t waste your days hoping he’d change.

“It’s better this way,” you repeated once more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The warm glow of the sun was waning, warning you of the impending cloak of night.

You stood on the cliffside, staring into the waters below, feet buried in the overgrowth and dirt. The air was cool, and the world was quiet. So serene and perfect that it was hard to believe it was real. You burrowed your feet deeper into the dirt, desperate to ground yourself into reality.

The mellowness of your surroundings eased the grief within your heart. War was over, and the suffering you’d endured was but a distant dream. Residing in the lands of Aman, you could forget your life had been anything other than something full of beautiful poetic prose.

Yet it was hard to let go of all of your pain. But as time passed, it became twisted, no longer the stabbing pain of a needle. It poured from you into a melancholia that you would use to paint all your skies a dark blue. It lingered in the edges of your landscape, blurred in the edges and nearly unseen by anyone except for you.

A soft hum escaped your mouth as you allowed the sound of cascading waves to fall over you. Eyes fluttered shut, the faint mist of water touching your body.

You only opened your eyes once the sound of footsteps was heard. Your posture stiffened, ears sharpening to hone in on the sounds of the intruder. No one dared to intrude upon you, and if they did, it was preemptively planned, never just a sudden visit.

Slowly, you turned, but you were still surprised even though you didn’t know what to expect.

Standing before you, as tall and proud as the day you’d first met, was Maedhros. He was vibrant and real, only a hint of tentative uncertainty marring his neutral expression. He stopped a few paces away, silent as you took him in. Framed by the soft glow of the golden rays of sunlight, he was just as you remembered him, yet with an unmistakable touch of time.

It wasn’t in the traditional ways of humans; there were no wrinkles and lines imprinted on his face. It was all in the eyes, the centuries of wisdom, pain, and suffering making them heavier than they once were.

He’d died. You knew that. He cast himself into the fire alongside his brother when he could no longer possess the Silmarils. It was said they burned him upon contact and it was a fate too terrible for him to live. You’d wept for days on end upon learning his fate.

And yet here he was, as real as the day you’d met.

“Maedhros.” His name hung in the air as if you were unsure it was truly him. He simply nodded, an affirmation that he was really here, standing before you.

Silence stretched between the two of you, your eyes locked in a gaze that spoke the words your lips couldn’t find. There was a tempest of emotions within you - joy, relief, curiosity, and a lingering sense of hurt you couldn’t fully let go of.

And then, like the first rays of sunrise, a smile graced Maedhros’ lips, and it was as if the years spent separated vanished. The arguments disappeared with them, leaving only an overwhelming happiness to see him standing before you. Your strides were sure as you stepped towards Maedhros, and he helped to close the gap, your arms weaving around his body as you embraced him for the first time in years.

He smelled just how you’d remembered, and you buried your face into his chest, determined to remember how his arm felt around your waist.

“Is it really you?” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and delight.

You felt the rumble of Maedhros’ slight laughter as he nodded his head. “ Yes, it’s me, my love.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough that you could see his face but close enough that you could feel the warmth he radiated. “I- I can’t believe it; how is this even possible?” You were nearly out of breath as you spoke, eyes searching for answers within his.

“A twist of fate, I suppose. I was released from the Halls of Mandos, my time of repentance done.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his grip on you tightening. “I should have listened to you the night that you left. You were right, and I was just to--”

You cut him off by placing a searing kiss on his lips. His words were forgotten, the long speech he’d probably been preparing since the moment you left cut off. There would be an eternity for forgiveness and apologetic words. Right now, you just wanted to remember how his lips had felt on yours.

He melted into the kiss, his lips just as sweet as you’d remembered them to be. The years melted into oblivion; it was just you and Maedhros, with nothing severing the love you held. The kiss was a mixture of vehement remorse and a promise to never forsake the promise of love he’d made to you. Time slowed as the two of you savored the moment, fully immersed in the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you and Maedhros stayed tangled in one another. You’d both been given a second chance, something you hadn’t dared to think would be possible. And yet here he was, so intertwined with you it was hard to see where you ended and he began. It was a chance to reignite a love that had never fully died out.

#maedhros imagine #maedhros x reader #maedhros #lord of the rings imagine #the silmarillion imagine #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #lord of the rings oneshot #tolkien #lotr #lotr imagine #silmarillion #angst #lotr fluff

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samdeancass · 7 months ago

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Soft and Slow

Requested by @oakensheilded

Pairing: Jack Kline x male!reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Characters: Jack, Y/N

Description: Jack was still new to having sex, so Y/N takes it nice and slow with him.

A soft feeling warmed your chest, and a smile erupted on your face as you saw Jack sitting at the table in the library, the warm hue of the wall lamps accentuating his facial features. He looked so relaxed, so carefree, which was a huge relief after all he'd had to endure. You walked behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"How's my favourite nephilim today?" Jack turned in your arms and tilted his head. "I'm the only Nephilim in the world, so, of course, I'm your favourite." Chuckling at his comment, you leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. His lips connected with yours immediately, coming together in a loving bliss. Jack slowly stood as your lips stayed locked together, his hands exploring your broad back. Your hands found their way to his hair, yours and his lips moving together in a familiar motion. Soft moans escaped him as your hands travelled down his body but stopped at the hem of his pants. "Shall we move this to the bedroom?" Jack nodded, and you took his hand, guiding him toward your shared room. Closing the door, you and Jack connected again, kisses more desperate and ravenous. You pushed him onto the bed, his body bouncing roughly off the mattress.

You crawled on top of him, hands finding their way underneath his top and exploring his bare skin. You could feel the bulge in his pants digging into your thigh and smirked. "Does it really feel that good, angel?" He purred at the nickname you had given him. Your hand disappeared into his pants and underneath his boxers. Jack hissed at the longed connection of your hand with his dick. "Yes, feels so good." Your hand began to stroke him, moving slowly as the most beautiful sounds came from Jack. You could feel yourself become hard at the mere sight of Jack getting off on your touch.

You pulled his pants and boxers down, letting his cock spring free as you licked your lips with excitement. Kneeling, you took Jack in your mouth, licking the pre-cum from his tip that had begun to seep out. You were slow at first, letting Jack become used to the sensation, but once Jack entangled his fingers in your hair, you knew he was ready for more. Hollowing out your throat, you took all of Jack, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You licked around his tip before resuming your movements from before, bobbing up and down at a furious pace. You felt Jack's dick twitch in your mouth, and you tasted sweetness as his seed filled your mouth as delicious sounds escaped Jack.

You removed your own pants before crawling on top of Jack, peppering his face with sweet kisses. "Are you sure? We don't have to." Jack cupped your cheek and gave a soft smile. "I've never been more sure of anything." You kissed Jack deeply as your tip entered his ass, hisses sounding from the both of you. "You're so tight, angel. You feel so good." You spat onto your hand and spread it along your cock to act as a lubricant. Slowly, you pushed inside him; the feeling of his tight hole around your cock was enough to have you cum right there.

Jack looked at you and nodded, signalling for you to move. You began to thrust slowly, letting him get used to the movements. Entangling your fingers with his, you began to make love to him slowly and softly. Your lips found each other again, kissing every inch of the other's face. You could feel the familiar warm feeling building up in the pit of your stomach, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. Letting go of one of his hands, you reached between the two of you and began to move your hand up and down his shaft to the same motion you were thrusting. His moans were getting louder the closer he got to his climax. His eyes fluttered closed as his dick twitched in your hand, his white seed squirting onto your chest. Your moans echoed around the room as you came, your white seed seeping out of his hole. You licked it up before gathering his seed on your fingers and swirled them around your mouth. "You taste so delicious, my angel."

You lay down next to him, gathering him into your arms. "That was amazing, Y/N. Thank you." Chuckling, you kissed his forehead. "You never need to thank me for doing that. It was for both of us." You lay there for the rest of the night, content with each other's company.

Supernatural Tags:

@akshi8278 @bxoken-heartss @desimarie12 @deascheck

#jack kline #jack kline x reader #jack kline imagine #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline fluff #jack kline smut #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #supernatural smut

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valleydean · 2 months ago

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Chapter 16 [Read Here]

CHAMPION Part III of Heavyweight a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from the beginning | playlist

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1933. Dean Winchester, the number one contender, trains to become the next Heavyweight Champion of the World, and this time he won't let anything get in his way. Title holder Castiel Novak has second thoughts about retiring, especially when someone from his past arrives in New York and asks for his help. Meanwhile, a new contender rises to fame and threatens to complicate both of Dean and Cas' ambitions - and their relationship.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

The MC’s voice boomed through the arena: “Ladies and gentlemen, live from Madison Square Garden in New York City, welcome to tonight’s main event!”

There was a pause for more cheers.

“We have a very special fight for you tonight, and that’s all thanks to the man entering the arena for the very last time in his professional career…”

Castiel flexed and tightened his hands inside his gloves. They were already sweating. He hoped, after he’d won, the crowd wouldn’t be too disappointed to find out that they would no longer be able to brag about having been at Angel Novak’s final bout. Perhaps they’d be satisfied in knowing they’d been there when he announced that he was staying.

“Coming to us from Brooklyn, New York. You know him as the Angel of America. The undisputed heavyweight champion of the world—Castiel Novak!”

“An-gel Nov-ak!” the crowd chanted, stomping their feet. The fanfare of brass instruments rose up from the orchestra.

The curtains were pulled back. Castiel pushed his shoulders upright and walked into the arena.

“An-gel Nov-ak!”

There wasn’t a seat left vacant in the Garden. The crowd undulated from the ringside seats to where the bleachers met the ceiling. The people standing in the pits surged forward and thrust their arms over the barriers to touch his gloves and robe. They waved signs and lit cigarette lighters to get his attention. Press cameras blinded him from every direction.

When he reached the rows of ringside seats, the people sitting close to the aisles grabbed him by the shoulders and shook his gloved hands, wishing him luck. The governor and his wife, the mayor, Congressmen, socialites, gangsters, and celebrities.

“Give ‘em hell, baby,” a familiar, sultry voice said to him while he was shaking Babe Ruth’s hand. He glanced around, finding Meg Masters.

“Meg.” Pleasantly surprised that she was there, he gave her a smile. She planted a possessive kiss on his cheek before he had to move on.

Mick was on the aisle seat in the second row from the front, Balthazar beside him. He clapped Castiel on the back before hugging Michael. Balthazar leaned over them and said, “Do us proud, Cassie!”

He expected to find Dean in the first aisle seat. Instead, Kelly was there, giving him a bright smile. Jack rushed around her and gave Castiel a hug. Castiel put his glove on Jack’s head, chuckling. His buoyancy sank somewhat when he found Dean standing over the seat next to Jack’s. Dean clapped, his eyes on Castiel. He gave Castiel the same phony grin that was usually reserved for press photos. Castiel promised himself that Dean’s smile would be genuine by the end of the night.

Sam was next to Dean, then Eileen, who gave him a thumbs up—and Castiel was surprised to find Maura clinging to Sam’s shoulder as he held her. Jo and Charlie were further back in the row. The end chair had been removed for Bobby’s wheelchair. Castiel thought he spotted Henriksen, Benny, and Rufus in the seats behind Bobby, but it was difficult to see in the shadows. All the blinding lights were focused on him.

“You have lipstick on your cheek!” Jack laughed. That certainly explained the hints of jealousy on Dean’s face. He hadn’t even realized Meg had left a mark behind.

“Oh, I…” He raised his glove, then paused, because he didn’t want to smear red on the leather so soon.

Kelly pulled out her handkerchief and wiped the lipstick off his face quickly. When she was done, she said, “Go. They’re waiting for you. Good luck!”

With one last look at Dean, Castiel moved to the ring. He climbed inside, his team right behind him. As he did, he heard the commentator saying for the people listening over the radio, “Angel Novak has entered the ring for the final time in his career—or is it? He’s expected to make an announcement at the end of tonight’s bout. His coach and promoter haven’t commented on the matter, but analysts speculate that Novak will push his plans for retirement and hold onto the belt for a little while longer. That is, unless Mr. Webb beats him tonight.”

In his corner, Castiel shuffled from foot to foot and shook out his arms, still trying to get loose. His robe fluttered around his calves.

#[elmo in hell meme regarding this chapter]#oh i am a bad person for this #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #dean winchester #dean #castiel #cas #my writing #my post #heavyweight

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crushedgraham · 1 year ago

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Can you write a smut fanfic where D.Va and reader were playing together but Hana was being a sore loser and starts teasing her gf to distract her from the game? And ends up very fucked up if you know what i mean 🥰

Mario Kart Escapades

oops went a little overboard with this one...lemme know if you guys like the longer or shorter fics better!

"Ugh! 꺼져! (fuck off)"

A pillow gets thrown at your face which muffles your laugh. You sit up, tossing the pillow onto the floor to get a good look at the small girl curled into the corner of the couch. Hana has a vice grip on the controller, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"How the hell do you keep winning?!"

"I'm just better, bunny. You know you can't beat me at Mario Kart"

That only seems to deepen the crease between her brows. A new round begins with you in first and Hana second. But as you're revving up your kart, her figure quickly blocks your view, a familiar weight in your lap.

"Hana move!"

Hana giggles evilly as your kart slams into the side of the track, all the other bots and herself speeding past you. You adjust to push her away with your elbows but her toned thighs lock against yours with a strength you didn't know she had. Usually this position, with her ass facing you, would ignite a hot pit of desire into your lower stomach but right now you had to push it away.

Competition was apart of the foundation of your relationship, you were one of the few people that could actually match the notorious D.va's competitiveness. And being one - if not the best e-sports player in the country (maybe even the world), Hana won most of the time. But on the rare occasion that you did beat her, she'd turn into a total sore loser.

Like now. A loud grunt escapes you as you thrust your hips up to get her off, but what you don't expect is an equally loud (exaggerated) moan to leave her. Then you realize it, she's fucking with you. Hana grinds her ass against the crotch of your thin shorts. The frustration simmering in your chest mixes with the shocks of pleasure in your core, creating a haze that overtakes every thought besides Hana. You can't take your eyes off of her, no matter how hard you try. Hana's body was perfect, small and petite with a beautifully rounded ass. The small red switch controller lays abandoned in your left hand as your right fists the sorry excuse of fabric that her team created as booty shorts.

"I win."

You don't even have to see her face to know she has a smug smile spread across her pink lips. Hana's back now presses against your chest so she can lean up and nip at your ear to really rub in her victory.

"You owe me milk tea for a week now sucker!"

Hana moves to hop off your lap but you're faster. Your hands dwarf her small hips, flipping her onto her knees with her face buried into the leather cushions of the couch.

"Hey- What the fuck Y/N??"

Your left hand squeezes both her wrists together behind her back in a bruising grip; your left placed around her throat with no pressure, just as a threat.

"Such a brat."

The words are sneered from your lips with a venomous tone causing Hana to suck in a sharp breath. Your teeth drag down the collar of her shirt to reveal slender, milky shoulders that're just begging to be marked. Hana lets out a muffled whine as your canines dig into the skin, surely leaving a red print of teeth that'll remain for the rest of the week; ensuring that everyone who sees it knows who she belongs to.

You release the hold on her neck to slither underneath her loose shirt. The fingertips of your calloused hands gently rubbing against her nipples, drawing a moan from her. Hana pushes her hips back, grinding against nothing for some sort of relief.

"Look at you, so desperate. I bet your pussy's already drenched and I've barely even touched you"

An incoherent noise of agreement slurs from her lips as you twist and pinch at the sensitive buds. Hana did always love when you got rough on occasion. Your lips trail up the side of her neck, leaving a trail of purples and maroons - she was your canvas tonight.

"Fuck, Jagi. Need you...need you so bad..."

"Yeah? What does my bunny need, hm?"

Hana can't even form the words in her brain, the stimulation on her nipples and the embarrassment from her position melts her brain.

"Tell me baby."

Her nipples are beginning to get sore and sensitive from all the stimulation, making her cry out when you emphasize your statement with a twist of her right nipple.

"Shit! Fuck me! Please Jagi need it so bad"

You tut, sucking at your teeth while pulling away and releasing your hands from her overheating body. Hana whines in protest at the lack of touch, her body trembling from the overwhelming lust buzzing throughout her body. Beads of sweat roll down the curve of her spine and drip off of her when you swiftly smack your hand across her ass. The contact creates a loud "thwack!" that gets drowned out by Hana's moans.

"So demanding...I bet this is what you wanted all along huh? To be fucked like a slut"

Nonetheless, you cup her pussy through the thin shorts. Hana's shorts were completely soaked. A prominent dark patch seeps through the fabric, coating her inner thighs in her slick. Your self control was slipping faster than you'd like to admit, her adorable little noises spurring you on as you rubbed her clit through the ruined material. God, Hana could've probably came just from that, the slow circles wouldn't usually be enough but she was already on edge. Her thighs quaked and her free hands fisted the cushions - she was right there.

"You're not allowed to come, Hana"

When you pull your hand away, a cross between a whine and a groan rips from her throat. Her feet kick childishly to convey her frustration. You hush her as you shove her ruined shorts down to her knees, and the sight your met with makes you bite your tongue to keep a moan at bay. Hana's cunt is absolute perfection, swollen and a downright sinful shade of red. You can't help yourself when you lean forward to swipe your tongue across her slit, collecting a good amount of slick on your tongue. Your moans mix; yours from the taste of her and Hana's from the sudden pleasure that spikes through her body.

That's what does it for you. Your tongue fully dives into her sopping cunt, eager to taste all of her. Hana cries out, still sensitive from being edged - her hand reaching behind her to fist your hair, keeping your face smothered in her pussy. The way you're eating her out mimics that of a starved animal. As you lap at her, growls and moans vibrate throughout her body, sending a rhythmic pulse to her clit. You find yourself losing your mind almost instantaneously, taking the term 'pussydrunk' a little too literally. Your jaw moves down to suck at her clit, then releasing it to lick at it side to side. At this point you don't know who's pleasure you're doing it for, hers or yours.

"Mmm! I'm so..fuck..close!"

Your tongue slides back to prod at her slit, hungry for more. Pushing in is a task, her cunt tight from how close she is and she screams once the majority of it's stuffed inside of her. The muscle moves in and out as best as you can when she's clenching down on you, her walls pulsing - a telltale sign that she's about to come. Eager to make her finish, your thumb draws tight, quick circles into her clit.

Hana's walls clamp down on you, a gush of come filling your mouth as she screams your name. You moan in satisfaction at her taste, pulling out your tongue to lap up the remaining slick. But Hana writhes away from you, collapsing onto the damp cushions. Her eyes are closed as her chest heaves up and down to catch the breath that she didn't know she was holding. You lean down so your teeth catch against her flushed ear, whispering:

"I'd say I won, bunny"

#overwatch #overwatch x reader #dva x reader #dva overwatch #hana song x reader #hana song #dva #dva ow #overwatch 2 #dva smut #ow2 #overwatch smut

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tonowaritrash · 1 year ago

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pairing: tonowari x reader

tags: morning sex, horny wari, fluffy, romantic sex, p in v sex, soft praises

a/n: read about needy wari on another blog and had to make it a reality lol

minors dni

in the early morning, just as eclipse ended, you and tonowari were already out of bed getting ready for the day. being an olo’eyktan was a full day affair and you did everything you could to support him, despite feeling extremely drowsy. your steps as you meandered about your home were lazy and your hands seemed to move on their own accord without your mind registering.

it was only through vague awareness that you knew you were grabbing things for both of you to eat before you headed out. tonowari was a large man and it was paramount that he had sufficient energy as he went about his day, so a large breakfast was vital.

as you hummed, grabbing what you could, a sigh came from behind you while gentle hands rubbed your arms. his soft lips trailed down you shoulders and you chuckled.

“wari, not now. gotta grab food.”

he whined and pulled you into his embrace. the reason for his needy behavior immediately made itself apparent to you by poking your back. he grinded into you a bit, still trailing kisses on the side of your neck. “just once before we leave? please?”

you protested but were quickly silenced by his teeth nicking your sensitive neck. your breath hitched.

“we don’t even have to go back to bed,” he said now, now rubbing your breast under your beaded shirt.

right here? you weren’t even sure if the walls could support your weight. but his touch was so enticing and his low voice had you wet already. and, if you were truly being honest, you were doomed the moment you heard him behind you. he always could sway you so easily. it was almost unfair.

his hands wondered down until they rested on your mound. when you made no noise of protest he carefully moved away your loin cloth and pressed two fingers into you before taking them out.

they were covered in your wetness and he let out a knowing hum before you heard him suck them into his mouth. “you’re already so wet for me,” he cooed, before turning you around to face him.

you kissed, sweet and slow and tasting yourself. he grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up before pinning you against the wall. your legs wrapped around him and you whined while he guided his cock into you.

he hadn’t even bothered to put clothes on yet, the absolute tease.

slowly, he entered you and you covered your mouth as you moaned, not wanting to wake any neighbors. a cocky smile graced tonowari’s lips at this before he started thrusting into you.

the pace was slow but deep and little bursts of pleasure fluttered through you with each movement. you held on for dear life as he kissed you wherever he could reach you, gently moaning your name and sweet nothings into your ear.

you could feel his cock drag along your walls and you, wanting more, reached down and rubbed your bud almost screaming at the sensation.

tonowari whined at the noise and leaned in to your neck as he panted. “you feel good, my sweet girl. so, so good. taking me so well.”

you could barely nod, the pleasure was so great. this was nothing like the usual primal way you two fucked, this was an act of love and devotion.

you came together, sweaty and panting, the feeling so great you collapsed into him. “easy now,” he cooed, stabilising you. “there’s a good girl.”

he rocked you in his arms, kissing all parts of you until the star’s light was bright enough to illuminate your home. the familiar sounds of the village beginning to stir were heard and you knew you’d have to return to your responsibilities.

he nuzzled your hair, as if knowing that you didn’t really want to leave. as if he felt the same.

“were it that we were the only two in the world.”

“if only,” he responded. “but we can pretend, even if just a little longer.”

#avatar the way of water #atwow #atwow smut #avatar smut #atwow tonowari #tonowari #tonowari x reader #tonowari x you

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thunder-wolf64 · 2 months ago

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So I have a kinda old piece of writing that I still want to share. I would characterize both Hunter and Gourmand differently and write in a different format if I were to restart

But heres some Cherrypie writing:

Cw (nothing bad but just heads up): for body horror (Hunter's rot) centipedes, and death (cycle restart)

Another morning marked by the smell of petrichor. Hunter may have finally been freed from his illness, but his body still felt as if the rot was transforming his flesh. Though he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Just another obstacle to tear me down, he thought. The rot was no longer able to grow and take over his body, but what it left behind is still terrible. Fleshy tendrils and sore lumps stretching through his fur and bleeding out of X-shaped wounds. It makes him disgusted with himself.

A flicker of green light caught his eye and drew him out of his dark thoughts. Looking at the flashing light -a warning of the oncoming lizard- he pulled a spear from his scarred back. Out from the pipe came a clumsy lizard. Hunter pulls back his arm and throws the spear, hitting the lizards back. While the Hunter’s next meal thrashes around, he runs to it and pulls the spear out- only to plunge it back into the lizard a few more times before it dies. Hunter slots his spear onto his back and starts eating. The lizard's scales are rough, and the meat underneath is stringy. Food is food out here though, only an insane creature would pass up the opportunity to eat. Hunter knew that all too well, becoming prey himself quite a few times.

Then there is an abrupt noise from above the pale red slugcat, he turns, bloody teeth bared. A round creature leaps from the rebar poles into an upper tunnel. Hunter’s nose twitches to try and catch the creature's scent; it smells like food and something familiar. Hunter wipes his mouth, blood smearing on his short fur. I should probably follow it. I need to know what lives here. He climbs up the poles quickly, thrusting himself onto the platform and into the tunnel.

Hunter’s thin body easily moves through the metal space, the only inhibitor being the darkness. Whiskers are a help, but with his bad eye, his ability to see is lower than average. He senses movement and veers towards it in the tight tunnel. But his ears pick up the sound of small scratchy limbs, more than there should be on what he was trying to follow. Hunter immediately tries to turn around and dash, but he is too slow. The sharp jaws of a centipede close on him, tearing into his flank and crushing his bones. Its plated body slowly snakes around Hunter's shaking body. And in a few seconds an electrical current courses through his small body, killing him in an instant.

* * *

Hunter wakes up with a start, his fragile heart beating a mile a minute. He gasps for air and a shiver wracks his body. He hasn't died in a while, no less from a centipede. He lifts himself up, trying to overpower his anxiety attack, which just leads him to collapsing. He lays on the ground of the shelter for an amount of time he cannot discern. But once adrenaline cedes, he gets up and tries to go on like nothing happened. His once sharp mind struggles to stay focused as he returns back to the world, it’s just as it was yesterday. And just like yesterday, a green lizard slithers from a pipe and Hunter pulls his spear out. He aims and takes a deep breath, but it’s not enough to settle him down. The panic he feels loosens his grip and his paws drop the spear. The lizard’s head snaps towards the sound, It charges in an instant, a green blur as Hunter flinches. He expects to die again, but then the lizard suddenly collapses under the weight of the same creature from the previous cycle. A slugcat, another slugcat, Hunter can hardly believe his eyes. Overtop of the lizard corpse is a tan-ish slugcat, it looks well fed.

The new slugcat steps off the lizard and sniffs at Hunter. Its ears raise as it chitters softly, “Hello, are you okay?”

Hunter flinches again, it has been a long time since he heard his native language. “Yes,” he says, before straightening his posture and repeating another yes. Hunter sniffs at the other slugcat as well. It -he- smells like centipede and faint smoke. Hunter makes no further attempt to communicate, his throat is rather closed up with fear from earlier.

“That’s good, you looked pretty startled there.” The unfamiliar slugcat steps back, “I’m Gourmand.” He looks down at Hunter, patiently waiting for an answer.

The red slugcat is still in a somewhat fuzzy state, this is not how he imagines his days going. “I’m Hunter,” He picks up his spear and slots it onto his back, between the tumor-like masses. “I had a rough cycle.”

Gourmand's ears flatten and he looks at Hunter empathetically. “Ahh, you must have been the slugcat that centipede got to.”

The two sit in silence for a moment before it’s interrupted by Hunter's stomach growling with hunger. The smaller slugcat wraps his arms around his stomach, murmuring in discomfort. Hunter hasn't been feeding himself well enough lately, just trying to keep his karma up.

“You should eat this lizard, I’ve had my fill already.” Gourmand pulls the lizard towards Hunter, offering him the meal. Gourmand just wants to help.

Hunter’s hackles raise slightly as he bites into the lizard, which leaves him in a somewhat vulnerable position. Never pass up an opportunity for food. He reminds himself as he stares up at Gourmand. The meat, although filling, is just as mediocre as it was last cycle. After Hunter finishes eating all of the edible parts of the lizard he licks his muzzle clean of blood and sits back on his hind legs. “... Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” The bigger slugcat smiles and cocks his head as he tries to see Hunter’s malformed back. “Are those rot cysts?”

Hunter hisses softly and angles his sensitive back away from Gourmand. “It’s not your problem.”

It’s quiet again as Gourmand decides how he wants to handle this situation. As much as it is in his helpful nature, he can tell Hunter is far too defensive to let him help. Gourmand decides to change the subject. “Do you know of a shelter around here? I keep getting caught in the downpour.”

Hunter is apprehensive, the only shelter he knows of is his own. And while the slugcat in front of him has not done anything to threaten Hunter, that means nothing to the traumatized animal in the grand scheme of things. He could so easily get the jump on me inside of a closed space. Hunter’s brain ticks with anxiety.

Gourmand realizes that his hopes for a companion of some sorts were too high. Not every slugcat comes from a social group, a colony. This slugcat may have not seen others of our kind in many cycles. The amiable slugcat reminds himself that life is different here, away from the tree. “I’m not territorial, this space is no more mine than it is yours.”

“The only nearby shelter I know of is the one I'm using,” Hunter says with slight authority, hoping that Gourmand would be put off by the idea of sharing. Who would want to stay with a creature affected by rot?

“That's fine- if it’s okay with you, that is.” The slugcat replies quickly with slight enthusiasm.

Hunter does not want a roommate, the lizard that followed him into the shelter several cycles ago was enough company for the rest of time. “I don’t-” He is cut off by the ground rumbling and an ominous boom from above. The rain would be here soon. If he denies the other slugcat shelter, he would surely die. Death is a terrible feeling, He recalls last cycle’s abrupt end. If I can stop another creature from experiencing it, then I should. “That’s fine by me. We should hurry though.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it, Hunter.” A small raindrop lands on Gourmand's nose, and he shakes it off. “This rain looks bad, it’s coming in quicker than usual.”

The coming storm is indeed bad news. Without a word (thanks to Hunter’s quiet demeanor) the two set off back towards the shelter, so they can survive another day, and move up another karma level.

---

That's pretty much all I wrote. Lmk if you like my writing and maybe I'll post more.

#rain world #rw cherrypie #rw hunter #rw gourmand #writing

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 1 year ago

Text

Here You Come Again [Part Sixteen]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF, American Actor

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Addison Goodwin, Original Female Characters, Priscilla Presley, Colonel Tom Parker, Vernon Presley, Gladys Presley, Minnie Mae Presley, Marci Cunningham, Jerry Schilling, Red West, Sonny West, Marty Lacker, Joe Esposito, Charlie Hodge, Lamar Fike, Alan Fortas, George Klein, Memphis Mafia

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Word Count: 3423

Summary: When Addison Goodwin was seventeen years old her life was turned inside out after a chance encounter with her past. Now, fifteen years later her life is the best it’s ever been. She has a home, a good job and a daughter she loves more than anything in the world but will all that remain when an old familiar face rolls into town.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Graceland, Las Vegas, The International Hotel, Elvis In Vegas, 1970s, 1970s Elvis, Friends To Lovers, Rekindled Romance, Parenting, Time Line is Sketchy, Guilt, Betrayal, Teenage Pregnancy, Hawaii, Hidden Pregnancy, Jealousy, Sex, Absence of Parent, Single Motherhood, Trauma, Oral Sex, Tension

Notes: Short and sweet but I promise the next part is longer! Last one after this followed by an epilogue x

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Jess had been rifling through her suitcase, hoping that the top she had worn yesterday could take another outing when the door burst open and Addison came in slamming it closed behind her as she said, ‘pack your shit we’re leaving.’

‘What?’ Jess asked watching as her mother started pulling clean clothes out of the closet.

‘Mom,’ Jess said but Addison didn’t say anything and instead she thrust the pile of clothes towards her daughter who took them, though instead of putting them in her case she just let them hang limply over her arms. She didn’t know what the matter was but her mother’s face was frantic, like it had been the day she’d first met her dad. Yet when Jess didn’t move it fell into a scowl as Addison said, ‘I mean now Jess.’

‘Mom what’s going on?’ Jess asked worriedly.

‘Please just do as I ask,’ Addison said moving back to the closet, gathering items haphazardly as she threw them on the bed hoping her daughter would spur into action that would allow her to circumnavigate any questions. But Addison wasn’t that lucky. Jess’ familiar blue eyes were watching her, her face plastered with concern. She’d always gone with what her mother wanted, she hadn’t pushed because she trusted her mom would do what was best, but now she had a sinking feeling in her gut. One that she doubted would go until she knew what was going on.

‘Mom what’s happening?’ she asked as Addison continued to move around her, taking the items out of her hands as realised Jess had failed to move.

‘Jess please,’ Addison said pleadingly.

‘No,’ Jess said firmly making Addison stop in her tracks. She folded her arms across her chest watching her mother expectantly, the way Elvis did when he knew she was keeping something from him. She didn’t want to tell her. She didn’t want to get into it, to rehash all the pain that was swirling inside her at that moment. She didn’t want to go through it because she knew she was in the wrong too, that she shouldn’t have let herself get so close, to give them both hope.

‘Jess please,’ Addison said placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, gnawing on her lip as she tried to keep herself from crying.

‘No not until you tell me what’s wrong,’ Jess said watching her mother closely. Watching her expression, one Jess knew only came when she was trying not to cry, something clicked into place as she said, ‘you guys had a fight didn’t you?’

Addison sighed moving away to busy herself with packing. She should’ve known she’d see through her, after all, Elvis could always read her even when others couldn’t.

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ Jess said making Addison’s movements slow, ‘what happened?’

‘You don’t need to know this stuff,’ Addison said quietly.

‘Because I’m a kid?’ Jess scoffed making her mother turn around in an instant.

‘Of course because you’re a kid!’ Addison said, ‘Jess this stuff-’

‘Involves me. If it involves you two it involves me and I think I should be included don’t you?’ Jess said waiting for her mother who remained stony-faced and silent, ‘fine if you don’t want to tell me I’ll just go and ask Dad.’

She started moving towards the door making Addison sling the stuff she had been holding down as she rushed forward to stop her.

‘Okay, okay,’ Addison said quickly before she sighed and took a seat on the cluttered bed. Jess hesitated but then she moved to sit beside her, waiting for whatever it was to come spilling out of her though all she said was, ‘you’re right…we had a fight.’

‘What about?’ Jess asked tentatively.

‘It’s complicated,’ Addison said peeking at Jess who was waiting patiently for her to continue, ‘he said, we said some stuff…it was bad.’

‘What stuff?’ Jess asked.

‘Like I said it’s complicated,’ Addison said trying to ignore the twinge in her heart as Elvis’s face flashed behind her eyes. The anger, hurt and upset burned into her brain. Though its presence was forced out as Jess said.

‘He’s in love with you isn’t he?’

‘Jess!’ Addison gasped.

‘What I have eyes,’ Jess said, ‘I can tell by the way he looks at you…you look at him the same way.’

‘Honey,’ Addison sighed but Jess was on a roll. She had noticed it well before they had gotten to Hawaii and she was sure that both of them felt the same.

‘What? I mean you love him, he loves you, what more is there to think about?’ Jess asked, her hopes fading as her mother placed a gentle hand on her knee.

‘Jessie it’s not that simple,’ Addison said though as Jess went to protest she dove in. She did love him, she always had, but that was the reason she couldn’t go through it all again. As was the hope in her daughter’s eyes, ‘Jessie I can’t do it again. I wish I could but I just can’t. Last time…it nearly killed me.’

‘But maybe it’ll be different this time,’ Jess pressed on, ‘I mean this time there’s nothing stopping us from being a proper family, right? I know you love him and he loves you too. He wouldn’t hurt you I just know he wouldn’t-’

‘Is that why he threatened to take you away from me?’ Addison asked making her daughter’s eyes go wide. She didn’t mean to do it, she didn’t want to paint him in a bad light, if anything she’d always tried her best to soften the blow of the truth when it came to Jess considering throughout her childhood she had been forced to see how her parents tore chunks out of one another, but she needed Jess to understand. She needed her to realise that her actions, whilst not logical to everyone, did have a deeper meaning.

‘Mom, I would never,’ Jess said in little more than a whisper.

‘I know,’ Addison said stroking her face gently, ‘but like I said it was bad…and I can’t be around him right now not with all of this up in the air.’

‘Okay,’ Jess nodded.

‘Okay,’ Addison said taking a deep breath, ‘let’s get you packed up then.’

‘I meant okay I understand you don’t want to be around him,’ Jess corrected making her falter, ‘look I know you guys have had a fight and I know whatever’s going on between you isn’t going to be fixed fast-’

‘But-’

‘But he’s still my dad,’ Jess said firmly, ‘and you promised that we could try this and that no matter what I’d have you.’

‘Of course you will-’

‘So I’m not going to ask you to spend every minute with him,’ Jess said taking her own deep breath as nerves started to bubble inside her, ‘but I am going to ask that we stay. Because if some of your reasoning is to protect me or whatever what point is there in running away? And if it’s hard, if it’s awkward I’ll jump in…like you did for me the first time he came to the house, okay?’

The words seemed to hit Addison a good thirty seconds before the sentiment kicked in. It wasn’t what she wanted, all she wanted to do was get out of there even if that proved Elvis right about her, but she could see her daughter had a point. She kept saying that she was doing this for Jess, would that still be true if she didn’t take her daughter's needs into account? It also struck her just how kind and loving her daughter was, though that was something she already knew. All this time she had worried about how including Elvis in their lives would affect her and it turned out she was handling their situation better than either of her parents.

‘When did you get so grown up huh?’ Addison said with a sad smile as she pulled her in for a hug. Jess nestled herself on her mother’s shoulder, her arms wrapping around her torso.

‘You miss a lot when you’re drooling over Dad,’ Jess joked making Addison laugh though it was a little flatter than she hoped. They were quiet for a moment before Jess managed to work up the nerve to ask something further, ‘does this mean we can stay?’

‘Yeah,’ Addison sighed, stroking her daughter’s hair, ‘I can’t promise it’ll be like it was…I might need some space.’

‘That’s fine,’ Jess said pulling out of their embrace, ‘you hang with Aunt Mar. I’ll handle Dad.’

‘I shouldn’t be asking you to do this,’ Addison frowned.

‘Why not? We’ve always got each other that’s what you promised,’ Jess said, ‘I’m happy to help.’

Though before Addison could agree there was a knock at the door. They both looked at it, wondering who it could be this early, but they were saved from the suspense as Jess got up to open it. Standing outside the door was Elvis who offered her a smile before he peered in and noticed Addison sitting on the bed.

‘Oh, uh, hey,’ he said. Addison said nothing.

‘Everything okay?’ Jess said leaning on the door and moving it forward so his view was obscured.

‘Fine, uh, Lisa’s wondering if you want to come down the beach,’ Elvis said nervously.

‘Yeah,’ Jess said though she looked towards her mother, wondering if their little pow-wow was done. Addison nodded though it was a gesture so minute anyone else but the pair of them probably would’ve missed it.

‘Great,’ Elvis said looking down the path to where Lisa was standing, hand in hand with Vernon, eagerly awaiting the pair of them to get a move on.

‘Two ticks,’ Jess said moving away so that she could run into the bathroom, grabbing the t-shirt she had been debating wearing on her way past. She changed in record speed, ignoring how her bathing suit was still slightly damp as she put it on underneath her clothes. Yet it wasn’t quick enough and when she reappeared Elvis was now standing inside her room, watching her mother as she looked away from him, her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to hold her entire being together.

‘Ready,’ Jess said grabbing her beach bag off the bed and taking a stand in front of him, hoping he’d stop watching Addison and move towards the door, but he didn’t move, in fact, he looked down at her, pleading in his eyes as he said.

‘Actually, could I speak to your mom for a minute,’ he said.

‘Isn’t everyone waiting?’ Jess asked glancing at her mother.

‘It’s fine Jess,’ Addison said offering her a reassuring smile. Jess looked between them and then sighed.

‘Two minutes, okay?’ she asked looking at Elvis as sternly as she could muster.

‘Two minutes,’ he promised. And then with one final look at the pair of them, she headed out towards where Lisa and Vernon were waiting.

Elvis waited thinking that she might start first. Now that the fear had settled, he didn’t doubt she had a slew of things waiting for him and yet as he watched her they didn’t come. The only thing that did come as he took her in was a distinct ache in his chest.

‘Addie,’ he said finally making her look at him though her face was plastered in a scowl which somehow hurt worse. At least if she was screaming at him she was still talking to him. When she didn’t say anything he sighed.

‘Look I know you don’t want to speak to me right now and I don’t blame ya,’ he said earning a scoff, ‘but luckily I don’t need you to talk I just need you to listen.’

She didn’t say anything but the scowl faded as she waited for him to say whatever it was he needed to.

‘I’m sorry okay. Bringing up Jess and…and Mona like that was wrong,’ Elvis admitted.

‘You think?’ Addison said angrily.

‘You’re mad I get that,’ he said holding his hands up, ‘but I think you’re wrong too. I think you’re wrong for not giving us a shot. I think you’re wrong for not even trying. And I know you keep saying it’s for Jess or whatever but I meant what I said. I think you’re using Jess so you don’t have to admit you’re protecting yourself. I love you Addison, always have… and I know you love me too.’

They were staring at each other now, the tension between them palpable though it wasn’t like when they had been yelling at one another. This was worse. At least in the heat of the moment she could write off his words, now they were meticulous, planned out and each one cut deeper than the other though she knew that was only because they were laced with truth.

‘But,’ he sighed making her brows knit together, ‘but I’m not gonna force it. I can’t make you love me Addie, or make you admit that you do whatever way around it is. I can’t hang on hoping that one day you’ll decide to love me back. Now that doesn’t mean that I’m just gonna up and leave either. Like it or not I am gonna be in your life, in our daughter’s life…I just hope when you’re ready to admit it it’s not too late.’

And with that he strode out of the room, trying to ignore the sting of tears in his eyes as he walked out into the bright Hawaiian sunshine.

As they walked down to the beach he was quiet, every moment running through his brain in a cycle taunting him for what he did wrong. He tried to tell himself he had been in the right, that for the most part, he had a point, yet that didn’t take the broken way she had looked at him after he’d mentioned Mona out of his mind. The only solace he had as they walked down the sandy path to the beautiful beach was that he had been honest. That he had told her everything and now the ball was in her court.

That didn’t stop the ache in his chest though, it didn’t stop Jess and Vernon from sharing a look as he over-acted trying to remain as normal as possible as he followed Lisa down to the sea. At least spending time with the girls he didn’t have to think about it. Well almost.

He had taken a seat on his towel, dusting the wet sand off his legs when Jess plonked down next to him, her blue eyes watching and waiting for him as though he needed to explain himself.

‘What?’ he asked hoping her scrutiny wasn’t what he thought it was.

‘What happened?’ Jess asked.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked casually.

‘What did you say to her?’ Jess pressed.

‘Jess,’ Elvis sighed.

‘Don’t bother lying to me because she already told me most of it,’ Jess said taking Elvis off guard. That wasn’t a good sign, if Addison was willing to let the façade break even a little bit in front of Jess it meant that the situation was dire.

‘You know we had a fight?’ Elvis asked.

‘Yeah,’ Jess said. Elvis sighed and looked out towards the sea. Lisa was with some of the other kids, running along the waterline as they allowed the waves to chase them up the beach. Carefree, happy. Something he wished he could feel at that moment in time. Jess watched him for a moment.

‘You love her don’t you?’ she asked after a minute. Elvis looked towards her, unable to protest.

‘Did you tell her?’ Jess asked though her face fell as Elvis looked at her pointedly, ‘oh, that’s what the fight was about.

‘I thought she told you most of it,’ Elvis said raising an eyebrow as Jess blushed.

‘Well she skated over a few details,’ Jess admitted, ‘but I got the gist of it…what I don’t understand is how you telling her you love her led to a screaming match.’

‘You’ve never been in love I take it,’ Elvis chuckled though it dimmed as Jess rolled her eyes. He wanted to be honest with his daughter, yet he didn’t have the heart to tell her what had kicked it all off in the first place. How the hurt and anger he had felt with Addison had pushed him onto the nearest girl around. How he’d taken her to bed, wishing for every minute that it was Addison.

‘Jess, I know this isn’t going to come as a shock to you but your mother isn’t exactly the easiest woman to deal with,’ he said making Jess smirk.

‘I know,’ Jess sighed, ‘she’s hardheaded, stubborn, uncooperative, unreasonable…and yet you love her anyway.’

‘Yeah, I do,’ Elvis smiled. It was true. Out of all the women he’d ever dated Addison was all the things he’d profess never to want. And yet all those qualities were things he loved about her. They infuriated him of course, but they had a hold on him. He was no more able to resist her now than when she was three years old and demanding he play house with her.

‘And she loves you too,’ Jess said.

‘Jessie,’ Elvis sighed. He knew she did but hearing someone confirm it other than his own thoughts hurt more than he anticipated.

‘She does love you back I know she does,’ Jess said firmly.

‘I know,’ Elvis said pulling her into him as he sighed, ‘but that doesn’t mean she wants to be with me, honey.’

‘She’s just scared,’ Jess said, ‘I mean last time she felt that way it all went wrong. When the Colonel sent her away-’

‘How do you know about that?’ Elvis said pulling back. Though Addison and he had gone through everything that had happened in their late-night talks she had always said Jess didn’t need to know the ins and outs of everything. And from the look on his daughter’s face, it hadn’t been her mother to tell her.

‘Grandpa told me,’ Jess said biting her lip as Elvis’ jaw tightened, ‘but I made him. I begged him please don’t be angry with him it’s not his fault.’

‘He shouldn’t have told you,’ Elvis said looking down the beach to where his father was lying reading his book, unknowingly being ratted out.

‘It’s my story too remember,’ Jess said making his gaze fall back on her, his expression softening a touch, ‘and I know you guys think I’m just a kid and I know you want to protect me or whatever but that doesn’t mean I don’t see everything y’know? I remember it all.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you think that in fourteen years mom didn’t have a chance at being happy? At meeting someone new?’ Jess asked raising an eyebrow. Elvis’ brow furrowed; he hadn’t thought about it much before. When Jess had blown his questions off he had allowed that answer to be the truth in his mind because he hadn’t wanted to think about it.

‘I suppose,’ he said.

‘I used to think it was because she was worried about me. That if she let herself be anything other than a mom it would upset me but now…now I don’t think that’s what it was,’ Jess admitted, ‘I think she didn’t allow herself to do that stuff because…well because she was still in love with you. And well I can see why she might think it could go wrong, how it might not last…I mean you got married-’

‘I didn’t stop,’ Elvis said, the words falling out of his mouth without him giving them permission, ‘I never stopped loving her.’

‘So don’t stop now,’ Jess said, ‘please?’

‘Jess,’ Elvis sighed.

‘She’ll realise it I promise she will,’ Jess said, ‘just don’t give up on her just yet.’

‘Oh honey,’ Elvis said pulling her back into his side. They sat there for a moment, both looking out towards the gently lapping blue sea, listening to the wind as it rustled through the palm trees behind them. She didn’t look up but after a moment Jess spoke.

‘Dad?’ she said tentatively.

‘Yeah?’ Elvis asked still watching the waves.

‘Maybe next time don’t tell her you’re gonna take me away?’ Jess said making Elvis’ heart twinge. It had been a stupid remark, one he hadn’t meant and hearing the way Jess’ voice sounded made him feel all the more worse.

‘I never would baby,’ Elvis said firmly, ‘I never would.’

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