#sorry you tagged me days ago. oops. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bella-rose29 · 5 months ago

Text

Breathe

Elrond x gn!reader (Rings of Power)

not me coming out of my cave to post an Elrond fic then leave again 👀

also not me not writing anything for over a month (probably, I haven't counted) and then coming out with a near 5k fic oops

the original title for this was 'is he dead or not??? who knows' but I think this one is good too

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: I think I killed someone writing this/made them need a lobotomy so consider that a warning to anyone who's gonna read (sorry), mentions of death, war, wounds, a child crying, the photo I'm gonna use is a warning in and of itself, I think that's it?

I feel I should add that this fic is actually happy (eventually) 😂 I reread the warnings and thought 'oh oops'

tagging @oblivious-idiot and @uku-lelevillain but if anyone else wants to be tagged in future Elrond works then let me know!

You could not breathe.

It would eat you alive, all this waiting, chewing on your insides until it worked its way outward and left you but a shell of the person you used to be, and you wouldn’t have any way of stopping it. Your lungs felt tight as you cradled the head of a sobbing child, his mother dead after birthing him and his father out in the fray with the rest of the soldiers of Middle-Earth. He was young, had barely seen his homeland, let alone the world, and he had never seen war before. You were not so lucky as he - war had been your upbringing. You could fight as well as any other of the elven soldiers, but somebody was needed to look after those who could not, and so you had volunteered along with a small band of others: retired fighters and those looking to start out and join the ranks but were not quite good enough yet. You had trained them over the last few days that you had all spent in the safe hold, taking them through the basics of how to grip a sword and the best way to gut an Orc should they break through and make it to the doors of the underground cavern serving as your shelter.

The child in your lap had stopped sobbing, his cries turned to sniffles, and you carefully lifted his body to nestle into your side. He was too young for war, you thought again, taking in the small points of his ears and the lack of angles on his face. You attempted a smile, hoping it would comfort him a little as you pushed a strand of his hair behind an ear, and whispered to him. “All will be well. They will return to us victorious, and we shall have no need of too many more tears.”

“But how do you know?” Children were inquisitive, which most of the time you adored, but when you are attempting to raise the spirits of a boy who does not know if he will ever see his father again, the questions become rather irritating.

“Because I have seen many things, and because our armies are strong. They will defeat the darkness and bring light to our lands once more.” It was the best you could do when you did not truly know the answer. You had learned the art of rhetoric years ago, when Elrond Peredhel had first come to Lindon and had quickly discovered that for the elves to see past his half-elven status he would need to become invaluable, or risk being an outcast in the race he had chosen to be counted among. You had been the first to greet him, intrigued by this visitor from the Havens of Sirion when you had been born in Lindon and raised there, and he had been grateful for your tour and kindness. He had spent many an hour sat with you, commenting on his meetings and the politics of Lindon, and how he carefully navigated clashing personalities and difficult conversations, and so you had learned.

You used it now, that knowledge that Elrond had provided in all those hours, to comfort this child. He had since taken to playing with a stick on the floor next to him, leaning further away from your side to entertain himself as he drew patterns in the dirt, and it gave your lungs the much needed space to breathe a little more.

It had been hours and hours since the army had left, heading out onto the battlefield to meet Sauron’s forces, and you were getting impatient. Elrond had gone with them, determined to provide what help he could no matter your protests to him entering the fray. You had trained him up, knowing that he could hold his own but wanting to be sure that he would be alright, and when you had suggested that you go with him while tightening the straps of his armour he had placed his hands over yours (his hands were too soft - far too soft for someone about to go into battle), gently coaxing them from where they had fretted with the leather and returning them to your side with a sad smile. “You must stay here, melethel, and protect those who cannot fight.” The term of endearment never failed to heat your cheeks, or send a warmth up your neck and through your chest. “For my peace of mind, please stay here.” He had let go of your hands at that point, moving them up to rest on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over his face, and before you could think you were pushing it back into place, wondering if you had imagined him leaning into your touch that lingered a moment too long for two elves who were only friends and nothing more, his eyes fluttering closed for the barest fraction of a second before he was looking at you again, or if it had truly happened. What you were certain was real was the soft kiss he placed on your forehead, lips brushing the skin with such care and tenderness while his hands on your arms squeezed like you would disappear that it made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed. Elrond would not see you cry, not now, not when there was a chance it could be the last-

No. You would not think that way. He would come back alive, and if he was hurt then you would stay by his side until he was healed, and then you would continue your lives as you had before - content and in friendship.

It wasn’t how you wanted things to be with Elrond, which was why you could not breathe. What if he was one of the fallen, and you never saw him smile again, or gaze in wonder at the golden leaves of Lindon or cast a wry glance your way in a council session when somebody said something he thought was silly and knew you would be thinking it too, your eyes already seeking him out? What if you never heard him sing again, or write poems about trivial matters that seemed so important to him? What if you never got to challenge him to a duel again, laughing when your swords clashed and rang out in the clearing you always fled to, and calling him a cheat for tickling you after you pinned him to the floor?

And what if you never told him how you truly felt? That from the moment he had seen you try not to show your tears after climbing too high in a tree and falling, grazing your knee and cutting your calf, and had rushed to your aid because that was what Elrond did, you had loved him. He had been so calm, so gentle that night, the lights of others long gone out as they dwelt in near darkness while your lanterns stayed lit as you gritted your teeth and washed the cut of dirt and bark. You had barely heard him come in, his knock as quiet as your tears, but when his hands wrapped around your own and took the cloth from you, dipping it again in the bowl of water to your side, you barely startled. He had not been in Lindon long and yet already you knew him and his movements as though they were your own, and you trusted him enough to see you so vulnerable, and from the way he had looked at you that night he knew it. Your love for him was strong and true and the greatest thing you had ever felt, and for years you had passed it off as a friendship so powerful that the bond between you was unbreakable. You had friendships like that with others, so it would not have been out of the ordinary to have one more person whom you would love unconditionally until your light died, but when he had been kneeling by your side and cleaning the gash on your calf with a tenderness you had only read about, you had known it was different.

The child beside you now dropped his stick, the movement bringing you out of your thoughts as he scrambled instead to his feet and started to push through the gathered people to make for the doorway.

The doorway which was now opening, a messenger stepping through. You stood up, air catching in your throat and making you nearly choke on spit as you struggled to breathe again. Your hand flew to your opposite wrist, under the fabric of your sleeve and touching the chain that rested around the base of your hand - a gift from Elrond in the early hours of the morning before he had left for battle and after he had kissed you on the forehead. “To remember me by,” he had said, a sadness settling over his features that you hated. He unclasped it, gesturing for you to hold out your wrist, and when you complied he had linked the chains so carefully, fingers brushing the underside of your forearm so lightly it sent chills darting over your skin like minnows in a stream. His hold had lingered, and your breath had been held while time seemed to stretch on more than usual for your kind.

Elrond had that effect on you, it would appear. Making you breathless was a skill of his you weren’t sure he knew he possessed, and at this current moment you wished it was a skill he had never mastered. Your throat felt tight while the messenger caught his breath, tired from sprinting from the battlefield. The fight was over for now, the question was simply who had won.

“Sauron’s forces have been pushed back, and the majority slaughtered. We have won this battle!” the elf cried, and the first wave of relief washed over you and the crowd. The second would come when you knew who was alive out of those that had been sent away that morning, and who would not return this night.

The thundering of footsteps could just be heard over the cheers of the people gathered in the safe hold, and the first of the elven soldiers appeared in the chamber, tiredness being replaced by joy at seeing their loved ones again and embracing them with a fierceness that even Sauron could not comprehend. There were too many similar soldiers, their armour all the same and their faces all dirtied, and it was a long few minutes before you caught sight of the elf you were searching for. You were sure your face was blank and cold, and your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to see past the hordes in front of you, but the moment a head of unruly curled hair glinted under the torchlight, clearly moving from soldier to soldier and asking if they were alright, you knew it was Elrond. He seemed to sense your gaze on him, turning his head to look over his shoulder and seek you out, finding you within seconds. He is alive. Elrond is alive. It was a mantra, playing over and over in your head as your feet numbly moved you forward while he did the same, pushing through people to reach you, and before you could truly register it you were in his arms, the coldness of your previous gaze melting and turning into warmth as you looked at him, tracing the small cuts on his face and wrapping your other arm around his waist. He was dirty, and bloodied, and shaking from the cold or from the fight or from something else entirely that you could not name, but he was alive. You squeezed his waist, pulling him closer to you, but didn’t miss the slight wince on his face as you did so. “Elrond, are you hurt?”

“I am fine, melethel. Just a scratch.”

“Do not lie to me, Elrond. Come, let’s get you cleaned up and out of your armour; it must be heavy on your shoulders.” He did not reply, only giving a tired smile in its place, and let you take him by the hand to the room you had commandeered for you both when you had arrived. There were two raised cots, not that Elrond had slept much, as he had been needed in meetings to discuss battle strategies and had, in his usual fashion, not stopped working until he was content that his plan would work. You closed the door behind you and pointed to one of the cots, not looking at him as you told him to sit. He did so in a daze, fingers picking at the leather straps that you had done up for him that morning. It was long past nightfall now, and Elrond likely had not rested since he woke up. You gathered your medicines and poured a dish of water, moving to sit on the stool that Elrond had pulled up for you and putting your supplies on the side table to help him with his armour. You worked in silence, removing piece after piece of metal until it sat on the floor in a neat pile and you had better access to his wound. Cautiously you pressed your fingers to the edge of the cut, trying to gauge how bad it was and immediately regretting it when he hissed in pain and tried to move away. You snatched your hand back, eyes snapping to his face to see it scrunched up in pain. “Elrond,” you spoke, voice quiet in the near-empty room as you placed your hand on his fist. “Elrond. It is alright. Here, help me get this off of you so I can clean it.” He softened, features settling back into a face you knew better than the wrinkled nose and squeezed-shut eyes, and smiled a little as you started tugging at his undershirts.

“You know, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you could have said it earlier.” Had you been standing you were sure your knees would have given way and caused you to hold on to something for support. He must be delirious from the wound, or the amount of time spent on his feet fighting. Elrond never said things like that: not to you, not to anyone. You forced a glare onto your face in lieu of a response, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much he had affected you with one simple sentence, and started to gently pull the fabric up.

“Stop jesting, Elrond. I need to clean your wound. Unless you would prefer I left you here to get an infection and suffer?”

“You rather enjoy leaving me to suffer, melethel. You do it whenever we fight.”

“I always help you up off the floor after I wipe it with your backside,” you indignantly replied. You were glad he was talking - the silence had been strange. Normally you would not mind sitting in silence with Elrond, but that was when you were safe in Lindon, books in your hands and paper rustling as the pages turned, not when he had just fought a bloody battle and could have died.

“I recall that last time we fought it was I who helped you off of the floor,” he mused, and you swatted at his arm.

“Shush. I let you win that one. Now stop talking and help me; your limbs are gangly.” He let out a noise of disbelief at that but lifted his arms anyway, wincing when the shirt went over his head and pulled at the skin of his side. An Orc had found a gap in his armour, pushing its blade through and marking the side of his body with blood. You held your breath at the size of it, and when Elrond asked you how bad it was you answered with your eyes still on his side. “It is… it is nothing I cannot fix.” He seemed content enough with your response, nodding and leaning back on his hands to allow you more room to work. He grunted in pain when you raised the cloth to his skin and started cleaning away the blood and sweat that had stuck there, but otherwise was silent while you worked.

Time is a strange thing for elves: your lives are so much longer than those other races of Middle-Earth and so often you do not perceive it in the same way - twenty years for some may be the blink of an eye to an elf. You could not have been cleaning and stitching his wound (he had cried out more when the needle had pierced his flesh) for more than an hour or so, and yet it had felt like an eternity. When you were finally done, his wound covered in an elvish salve to stop infection and the spread of whatever evil was in Orcish weaponry and stitched up with a fine thread that would dissolve harmlessly into his skin over time, you brought out another cloth and poured fresh water to clean his face. He was caked in dirt and blood and grime, sticking to his fair skin from all of the sweat he had created in exertion, and if you did not know Elrond like the back of your own hand then you would not have recognised him at all.

“Let me,” he said, pushing up off of the cot and moving to where you stood by the basin. His hands covered yours, gently attempting to pull the cloth from your grasp and do the rest himself, but your grip was strong.

“No. I have been sat around doing nothing all day and I might just explode if I do not finish looking after you.” He smiled, the barest of things as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards a little, and his eyes softened. How he could be soft after everything he had seen today amazed you. It had taken you years to stop guarding yourself after you first fought in a battle, not letting anybody see any vulnerability in case they took advantage and thought you weak. It was part of the reason you stayed behind: you had not wanted to find out what would happen if you fought again, not when Elrond had come into your life and, piece by piece, dismantled your high walls.

“Alright, melethel. Alright.” He had always insisted on calling you that, saying that it didn’t matter that the pair of you were not courting, and who were you to refuse him when he spoke so sweetly? He settled back against the counter, letting his feet drift apart a little so you had room to stand between his legs. He closed his eyes, trusting you to take care of him, and for the first time since he had returned he looked at peace. He seemed unsure where to place his hands, hovering for a moment between your waist and the wood of the cabinet top he perched on before deciding on the latter. You worked away the dirt, revealing more clean skin with every swipe of your cloth, until eventually you were looking at the face of your friend as you remembered it. His hair still needed a wash, as did the rest of him, but Elrond was here, in front of you and more like himself than he had been since he had left in the morning.

“I think you had more soil on your face than the grounds of Middle-Earth,” you joked, rinsing out the cloth again before bringing it up to his face to wipe the remainder of the grime away. He opened his eyes, a childish grin appearing on his face at your words.

“Then you have done a fantastic job in removing it all.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes at you in playful suspicion. “At least I assume you have removed it all, and haven’t just smeared it all around my face?” He poked a dirty finger into your cheek, making you laugh and jerk backward to stop him spreading muck everywhere. Elrond stopped moving abruptly, catching your hand and studying a finger. “You’re bleeding.” He blinked at the dried blood on your pointer finger. “Or is that mine?”

“Oh. I had not even realised. I must have stabbed myself with the needle earlier. Really, it is nothing, Elrond.” He didn’t let go however, still looking concerned that you had hurt yourself while tending to him.

“But if you are hurt-”

“Which one of us was brutally stabbed by an Orc blade? And nearly died?”

“I did not nearly die, melethel, you are being dramatic.”

“As are you, Elrond. I barely even noticed the prick of the needle.” He had brought your hand close to his face, and somehow your body had gone with it. The hand that held the cloth was bracing your weight next to Elrond’s hand, your fingers just touching, and your face was so close to his that you could feel the soft brush of air that he let out every time he breathed. It was so typical of Elrond to be more concerned for others when he himself was the one that needed to be worried over, and it only made you love him more.

“If you say so,” he hummed, shifting his hold on your hand so that he could bring his lips to the tip of your finger where you had stuck yourself with the needle, pressing the smallest kiss to it. Your breath caught again, and he noticed the hitch. “Melethel? What is it, did I hurt you?” His eyes widened and he rushed to rectify the mistake he thought he had made. “I am so so sorry, I did not mean-”

“You did not hurt me, Elrond, for goodness’ sake!” You cut him off, exasperated and feeling very warm.

“Then why-” he broke off, eyes searching your face and studying the most likely very visible flush to your features. “Oh,” he said, softer than a leaf of one of the trees of Lindon falling to the earth. You swore his pupils dilated a little, and he tilted his head back ever so slightly as realisation dawned on him. “Oh.” He let go of your hand, fingers slowly moving to your jaw to turn your face back towards his after you had looked to the side in an attempt to hide from the intensity of his gaze.

“Elrond, what- what?” Your hand he had been holding was now on his shoulder, keeping you upright along with the arm he had somehow snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“Are you- do you…” he fumbled over his words, something he very rarely did, and through the haze of wondering how you had ended up in this situation, his fingers cupping your jaw while his other hand rested on your lower back and he stared into your eyes, flicking between them both to see if he could read you, you felt a swell of pride that you of all people had made Herald Elrond of Lindon speechless.

“Do I what?” you asked, as gently as you could. The hand you had rested on his shoulder was now toying with a strand of hair that curled under his ear against his neck, your other braced on his chest (which you were just now remembering was unclothed), and a small smile was on your face. You knew that he knew the truth now - how could he not? But he wanted to hear it, as did you, because the fear that he might be wrong was lingering and if he was wrong, he might hurt you, which was the last thing Elrond ever wanted to do.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, eyes similar to that of a wolf cub you had once seen, wide and innocent, but entirely Elrond in the blown out pupils and spark of knowing that he carried. His nose was brushing yours, breath fanning over your face, and now it was your turn to tilt your head back to meet him. “Do you feel that whenever we are apart… your heart aches for the space where I should be stood? That whenever we are together I am complete because you are there and you are so bright and wonderful that you take my breath away more often than I would care to admit - do you feel that too?”

“How could I not, Elrond? How could I not feel that?” You felt the tension dissipate from his shoulders, his body sagging forwards into yours just a little, the action causing his face to come even closer to yours, angled slightly upwards from where he was an inch lower than you sat on the cabinet.

You couldn’t breathe again, but this time it was because Elrond had pressed his lips to yours so cautiously that you thought you might melt into him. His fingers on your jaw were warm, not urging you one way or the other but just anchoring you, as he always had done from the moment you had met, letting you decide what happened next. You broke off first, resting your forehead against his and catching your breath, and he swallowed thickly, moving to place tiny kisses against your jawline and cheek, pausing only to murmur your name into your skin. Your hand buried itself in his hair, fingers tangling in the curls and knocking out the dust and dirt that had stuck there. It had long since dried of sweat, but the strands were greasy and needed washing, and that thought combined with the memory that he had a wound in his side were enough to make you pull back even further. “You should have a bath,” you said when he looked up at you with adoring but concerned eyes. He paused for a moment, frozen in place while he contemplated what you had said, and then he chuckled, the sound low in his throat.

“Are you saying I smell, melethel?”

“Yes. Come, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

“And if I would rather stay here?” His fingers had started lightly stroking your jaw, and with the way he was looking at you it was becoming harder and harder to leave his embrace. You managed to wrinkle your nose and step back, a strength you hadn’t known you possessed taking over and making you move.

“I’m not kissing you again until you have bathed, Elrond.” He sighed dramatically, retracting his arms and standing up, wincing slightly and favouring his non-injured side while you started transporting water from over the fire.

“Truly? You really would leave me here?”

“If it gets you over here faster, then I shall get in with you.” You had never seen the elf move so quickly before, pulling off his boots and drawing out towels for when the bath was finished with. He hesitated with his trousers, then decided to keep them on, glancing at you to see what you were doing. You were already watching him, making a decision of your own before starting to pull at the strings holding your robes together.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m keeping my underclothes on, but I shall likely sink right to the bottom if I keep these thick robes on.” He looked relieved, and you stifled a laugh as you headed for the dresser where your clothes were kept, pulling out a pair of fresh trousers. “Here, get changed first if you’re keeping trousers on; you’ll dirty the water immediately.”

He complied, heading behind the partition in the corner of the room and re-emerging a few moments later to find you already in the bath, eyes closed in contentment at the feel of the warm water on your skin. Elrond lifted your head, pushing you forward gently so that he could clamber in behind you and settle back against the tub. You heard him grunt when his wound his the water, and turned to see his face scrunched in pain. “Are you alright?”

“I am alright. Just don’t lean on my side.” He helped you turn in the tub so that you were sideways against him, his wound kept out of the danger of being pressed down upon.

You stayed in the bath until it got cold and your fingers wrinkled, having washed the dirt off of each other with one of the towels Elrond had brought over, and then when you got out you dried each other off and redressed in fresh clothes, hanging up the wet fabric and making for the bed, curling up next to each other, your head on his chest. Sleep came easily to you, Elrond’s body creating a warmth under you that made up for the dying fire in the cold room, and at some point your breathing matched his.

For now, you could be content in peace. Another battle would come, the war not yet won, and Sauron’s armies would be at your doors again soon. But not yet. They would need time to gather strength again, to marshal and be ready, and so you had time too before Elrond had to leave again, and time to breathe before you would be sat waiting, and waiting, and take in air before it was stolen from you when he kissed you goodbye.

#elrond peredhel #elrond x reader #elrond rings of power #rop elrond

385 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 1 month ago

Text

coming in clutch

@starrystevie asked two days ago for someone to write enemies to lovers Steddie on the same hockey team and one of them gives the other his stick from the bench and so I volunteered and yesterday afternoon started writing this and it got to almost 6000 words by this morning. Oops?

This is therapy for me, as a Bruins fan, who is suffering tremendously this season. I can't believe some people live like this all the time. I am so, so sorry. I promise you fixing it with Steddie helps ease the ache a little. It's bitch4bitch, what's not to love?

rated e, minors dni | 5801 words | also on ao3 | cw: mention of injury, hate making out for the drama | tags: modern au, hockey au, enemies to lovers, feelings realization, sorta love confessions, anal fingering, anal sex, handjob, life is a series of connections

🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒

If there’s one thing Eddie Munson knows, it’s that Steve Harrington will steal the show.

With less than two minutes left in the game that will determine if they clinch the wild card spot for the playoffs, it could still go either way. They need a goal to tie it, and the point will be enough to get in, even if they lose in overtime.

The Rangers don’t even get anything if they win this one except a pat on the back, yet they’ve pulled their goalie in hopes of ruining the only chance the Bruins have of getting into the playoffs. If Eddie wasn’t seething with rage about potentially starting his offseason much sooner than expected, he’d respect the hell out of them for it.

How they got into this much of a mess is beyond him…or really it isn’t. It’s well within reach.

He knows from the beginning shit was hitting the fan and then it just…kept hitting the fan.

They started bad and they don’t play well from behind in games, so how could they catch up when their entire season went to shit so early on?

It should never come down to one win, not for them.

But he knows that some of the issues are that Steve was handed this captaincy before he was ready, and Eddie’s done nothing to truly help him. He wears an A, but it’s more for Asshole or Annoyance than Assistant. He knows it, Steve knows it, the team knows it.

It’s making everything harder.

Coach already lit him up a few times over stupid shit this season, things he can’t get away with for much longer. His time will be cut short on this team if he can’t-

The whistle blows and there’s a penalty on Hargrove. Not surprising, but it’s enough to get Eddie out of his own head and focus. There’s barely a minute left and they’re facing a long offseason if they don’t get their shit together.

He won’t see more ice time today. He’s third line right now, a demotion from his usual first line after a string of shitty, stupid penalties. Coach will send the first line back out for the last minute to increase their chances of scoring.

The puck drops and they make the fastest line change they’ve managed the entire game.

Steve’s skating to the puck, eyes on the prize. He’s good at it, despite Eddie hating that he feels constant competition with him. They don’t even play the same position. Eddie’s a defenseman for fuck sake. Steve’s a center. The only competition is what’s made up in his own head.

Steve gets there first, manages to pass it to Sinclair, who passes it to Hagan. It’s beautiful, but it’s not enough.

The puck is cleared out and they have to rush to it to start setting up again.

They don’t have time.

And then Steve tries to shoot it to center ice and his stick breaks. It’s the worst timing. Eddie feels his heart sink in his chest at the realization that this is it. They’re done.

Steve’s skating to the bench, yelling about needing a replacement when he should just get off the ice, let someone else out there. They’re gonna lose anyway.

Eddie throws Steve his own stick. It’s not the right curve, and not the right length. It’s not even the same brand.

But if there’s one thing Eddie can respect about Steve, it’s that he’s a damn good player. He makes shit happen, even when no one else can. He’s been their saving grace this season, arguably the only reason they’ve managed to even have a shot at the wild card spot.

He may hate his guts, and he may be annoyed that he got picked as captain, and he may also find him impossible to be around most of the time, but he can see that he’s one of the best players in the league.

Steve’s never skated harder than in this moment, and Eddie can’t feel his face as Steve sneaks the puck between the legs of Wheeler, winds back, and shoots.

None of their players get to it in time.

It goes in their empty net.

The bench is so loud, Eddie can’t even hear himself think.

They’ve tied it up.

The clock says 24 seconds.

It’s as good as done.

They’ll have overtime, of course, but they squeaked in the playoffs. They get at least four more games.

Steve skates to the bench and hands Eddie his stick, but doesn’t say anything.

That irks Eddie a little.

“Not even a thank you for getting the assist on that one?” Eddie asks because if he’s one thing, it’s a shithead.

“Shut up, Munson. Could’ve scored an empty net from the locker room,” Steve replies with an eyeroll, his smile dropping in annoyance.

A for annoyance, after all.

“With a broken stick?” Eddie pushes because he loves to push and because Steve always pushes back.

It’s their game.

Steve sits on the bench, catches his breath for a moment while the arena celebrates his goal.

“How about a thank you for getting us to the playoffs?” Steve says back.

It’s unlike him to be self-centered like this. It throws Eddie off.

For once, he doesn’t have a damn thing to say.

The goalie gets back in the net and the Rangers finish off the regulation game with their tails tucked between their legs.

Eddie doesn’t get sent back out, but neither does Steve.

Coach leans down to say something in Steve’s ear and he grits his teeth together, jaw clenching painfully.

When they’re about to start overtime, Coach taps his back and tells him to go.

“But it’s first line?” Eddie asks.

“I said go, Munson!” Coach says, leaving no room for argument.

So Eddie goes. He’s not gonna argue with the coach, and he’s damn sure not gonna be the reason there’s a delay in starting.

He skates to the blue line and sees the focus on Steve’s eyes.

This game can end either way to him and he won’t care, but Steve wants this win. He wants the two points, not just one. He wants to say they overcame a shitty game to pull off a win.

He would never admit it, but his effort is for Steve. His speed and hits during the first shift are to give Steve every opportunity to pull off this win.

If Steve wins, they all win.

Eddie should have had that mindset for every game. Maybe they wouldn’t have had to fight for their lives just to get a shot at the playoffs.

It’s not a great shift, but they manage to shut the Rangers down a few times.

Steve is red-faced on the bench, watching the second line move with a fire they were lacking for much of the first 60 minutes. That’s been a pattern this season, something Eddie isn’t sure they’ll get over with this group.

It ends during the third line’s shift.

The Rangers get a breakaway and score.

It’s a loss, but they’ve still won something. They aren’t leaving completely empty-handed.

The walk down the tunnel is interrupted by the broadcast person yelling for Steve to stay back to do the post-game interview and accept third star of the game. It always sucks accepting a star away from home ice, but Steve’s used to it by now.

He’s the guy who comes in clutch. He’s always a star.

Eddie’s only a little jealous over it.

The rest of the team is pretty quiet despite their playoff spot.

Coach stands in the center of the room.

“We got lucky,” he says. His tone is calm, but there’s something hidden beneath it that Eddie can sense is anger. “We won’t get lucky in the first round. Get your shit together before next week or you might as well start scheduling your tropical vacations.”

He leaves the room.

No one says anything as they get undressed. No one speaks when Steve comes in the room and wordlessly undresses. No one utters a word when he’s the first to leave, even though that’s the first time that’s happened in the history of ever.

Eddie follows him.

He should give him space. Now isn’t the time to work him up more.

Now is the time to be a good teammate, a good alternate captain. Behave and follow the rules and be a good example off the ice. Leadership saw something in him to give him the A in the first place, now’s his chance to prove he respects them for it.

“Since when do you walk out without a speech?” Eddie calls after him when they’ve exited the building. This arena is relatively normal, but there’s a lower level of parking just for VIP. He doesn’t see anyone else yet, but that’s not surprising. Their bus is parked a few rows away, doors up to start loading equipment for the haul to the airport.

“Since there isn’t a damn thing I can say to get this team motivated and I’m done trying!” Steve yells back without turning. “If you’d like to try, go right ahead.”

“Doesn’t seem like something a captain would do.”

Steve freezes, turns.

His face is bright red and Eddie knows immediately he pushed too far.

“Maybe you should be the captain if you know so much about what it takes, hm? Maybe instead of passing me your stick to score you could score one once in a fucking while. Maybe,” Steve takes a shaky breath, exhales it right into Eddie’s face. He didn’t even notice how close he was before. “You could start acting like a leader and less like a fuckin’ nuisance.”

Eddie scoffs.

“I’m sorry I helped? Was I supposed to let the opportunity to score go? Would you rather have not tied the game? Do you wish we were going home for the summer instead of just the next few days?”

Steve’s chest is brushing against Eddie’s.

Neither of them showered, so there’s a faint scent of sweat clinging to his nostrils, but Steve must’ve freshened up with deodorant and cologne before getting changed. Cedar and pine overtakes the locker room smell as Eddie’s eyes dart down to Steve’s lips.

“Did you want me to do all the work for you?” Eddie grins.

It’s painful, when their lips crash together. Eddie doesn’t care.

Steve’s mad, he’s loud, and he tastes like victory. It has nothing to do with their game.

“C’mon,” Steve says against his lips, and Eddie isn’t sure exactly what he wants. They’re kissing in public, in a place that could be filled with their teammates any second. Steve’s hands are against his chest, pulling him impossibly closer by his shirt. “More. You want more out of me, take it.”

Eddie’s not always the smartest guy in the room. He’s, like, smart, but sometimes he misses some obvious shit. Unobservant, his uncle calls him.

But he can read people pretty well if he has a second to really see them and he thinks he’s seeing something Steve didn’t mean to show. He knows what Steve’s really asking and he knows he can give that to him.

“No.”

Steve stills. He pulls away, hurt clear on his face before he manages to school his features. It’s eery how quickly he was able to do it.

“Knew you weren’t up for it, anyways,” Steve mutters, but Eddie doesn’t let him walk away.

His grip on Steve’s wrist is tight enough to cut off circulation, tight enough to bruise. Steve doesn’t react at all.

“I’m not taking anything from you. You’re gonna take what you need from me.”

Steve’s brows furrow, and Eddie allows himself a moment— just one— to think that he’s cute like this. If they weren’t teammates, and if Eddie could stand him for more than a few minutes at a time, maybe they could do something.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“No? Like how you didn’t need my stick to score earlier?”

Steve’s mouth snaps closed, but Eddie doesn’t feel as smug as he normally would. He can hear voices coming and he knows that if they leave here now without something worked out, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.

“When we get back, come to my place,” Eddie orders.

“And if I don’t?”

Eddie laughs.

Steve likes to win. He’s gonna come just to see what his prize will be.

He boards the bus and ignores his half-hard dick in his slacks.

Steve always finds a way into his brain. And now he’s found a way into his bed.

~~~~~

The bus ride is quiet, but most of the guys are busy texting significant others and coming down from the adrenaline of the game. The flight is silent, everyone taking a power nap before they have to get back home. They’ll have a day off tomorrow, but most of these guys are married and have kids, or fiancées who haven’t quite figured out that a day off is needed for recovery, not for filling the calendar with other events.

Steve is far away from Eddie, barely even visible unless Eddie leans into the aisle and squints.

He doesn’t do that more than once, doesn’t wanna draw attention to whatever it is that’s happening between them.

Eddie is the first off the plane, but he walks slow enough to his car that a few teammates catch up and tell him his quick reaction saved their asses. He laughs and thanks them, tells them they’ve got some work to do if they’re gonna win the first round, and gets in his car.

Somehow, Steve’s already at his door when he gets home.

“Eager?” Eddie asks.

“You tell me,” Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and places it over his crotch. He’s already hard.

“Did you touch yourself on the way here?” Eddie feels like he’s been struck by lightning, energy zapping through him at the speed of light. Realizing Steve’s into this is rewiring his brain.

“Obviously,” Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie unlocks his door and pushes Steve inside. He pushes him down the hall and right onto the bed. He pushes until Steve pushes back.

“I thought I was taking from you,” Steve says as he sits up, taking his shirt off and throwing it to the ground.

“You are. But only when I’m ready to give. I need a second,” Eddie says as he strips his own shirt off. He walks to his bathroom to throw some water on his face and pretend for a second that the sweat dripping down his spine isn’t a ridiculous reaction to Steve.

“It’s been a second!” Steve calls to him.

Eddie smirks at himself in the mirror before heading back to the bed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I assume you’ve got something specific in mind?”

Steve eyes him up and down. “Take everything off.”

Eddie does as he says. Steve’s surprise that he didn’t argue is obvious.

“Get lube and condoms.”

Eddie reaches into his bedside drawer and gets out his unopened bottle of lube and the only three condoms he has that may or may not be expired. He doesn’t have time to fuck around much, and most of the time he does, it never gets far enough to need a condom.

His traitorous stomach swoops at the thought of Steve being inside him.

Steve looks at him like he’s starving and Eddie’s a five course meal on a table in front of him, and Eddie likes it. He likes that Steve wants to devour him.

He’s pulled into a bruising kiss, can taste blood on his tongue when he swallows spit that’s just as much Steve’s as his own. Eddie knows if they kiss like this for long enough, Steve will barely have to touch him at all to get him there.

As if reading his mind, Steve’s hand is on his dick, stroking it slow enough to drive him insane. Eddie blushes, but doesn’t let it hold him back from pushing Steve more.

“You gonna take your clothes off or are the lube and condoms just for decoration?”

Any hand is better than his own, but Steve’s hand might be the death of him. He tightens his grip around him, leaning in to bite Eddie’s collarbone.

He’s sensitive there and somehow Steve knows it, and Eddie might die tonight, but he can’t let Steve know he’s making him feel this fucking good. He wants Steve to take what he wants, but he doesn’t wanna give it easily.

“You like this with everyone or am I special?” Steve asks before he licks a stripe up Eddie’s neck.

It’s gross. It’s hot as fuck. Eddie’s lightheaded.

“Just you, sugar. Or should I call you Captain here, too?”

Steve pulls back like he’s been burned.

“I’m not your captain right now.” He’s glaring at Eddie, making him wish he could shrink into the mattress, down through the floor. “I’m Steve. Got it?”

“Got it,” Eddie’s nodding along, but he feels like he’s teetering into uncharted territory, some kind of rough terrain that most people don’t get past the fence to explore.

Steve starts taking and Eddie lets him.

First, it’s rough hands pushing him around until he’s in the position Steve wants him: face down, arms under the pillows, legs spread so Steve can see him.

Then, it’s teasing touches, laughing when Eddie gasps and moans, nipping at his skin after a soft brush of his fingers.

It’s hot and cold, it’s hard and soft, it’s push and pull.

It’s the first time Eddie feels like he understands who Steve is.

The lube is cold as Steve spreads it around his entrance, more teasing, more taking. Eddie doesn’t mind. He’s always loved the build-up as much as the finale.

Steve’s quiet, focused, as he works his fingers into him. He’s meticulous about it, looking for the best reactions.

When Eddie whines into the pillow, spreading his legs further apart to make more room for whatever Steve wants from him, he realizes that this will change everything. He should’ve realized it sooner. He may regret it tomorrow. He may not.

“You ready?” Steve asks.

Eddie feels empty. Steve’s fingers aren’t there anymore, aren’t stretching him and prodding every sensitive part of him. He whimpers pitifully at the loss.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve’s cock is pushing against his entrance, and Eddie thinks he was severely mistaken about Steve before.

Because why is Steve being gentle? Why is his hand rubbing Eddie’s spine as he pushes into him slowly? Why are his lips against Eddie’s shoulder, not kissing so much as resting there, his hot breath a comfort that he’s right there paying attention to everything Eddie’s doing?

Why is this the best Eddie’s ever been fucked and why does it feel less like getting fucked and more like making love with every passing moment?

Steve’s big, which Eddie knew already. There’s just a difference between seeing it and feeling it. He fills him up, makes him wonder if he’ll be sore tomorrow.

Kind of hopes he will be.

“Take it,” Eddie mumbles against the pillow.

Steve grabs his hair, strong grip, but gently pulling. “What?”

“Take me.”

Eddie’s not sure where those words come from, but he feels the way Steve responds. His cock twitches inside him, his hands grip his waist harder, and Steve moans against his shoulder.

His own cock is trapped against the sheets, but it’s fine. He’s in no rush. Steve will take what he wants and Eddie will wait. He’ll wait all night if he has to.

He feels good like this, at Steve’s mercy.

He didn’t think he’d be able to relax under him. He thought the fight he always has to assert his own dominance with Steve would carry over here, too.

But it’s easy to let Steve have this.

He knows that Steve needs this just as much as Eddie needs to be used.

“You’re quiet. Everything okay?” Steve whispers against his skin. A check-in to make sure Eddie doesn’t need to stop.

“I’m good. Feels good. Keep going.”

The softness never goes away, but Steve’s moving faster, breathing heavier, putting more weight on Eddie’s back. It’s almost too much, the pressure inside him, surrounding him. The scent of Steve, the scent of both of them mingling together and staining his bedsheets.

He’ll have to wash them tomorrow. He won’t.

“God,” Eddie says as he fists the pillow under his head. “Right there.”

Steve’s nailing his prostate, almost more than he can handle. It feels like when they reach their groove on the ice, like despite their disagreements and different styles of play, they’ve meshed together for this moment to make something happen.

“Yeah? You like letting me have you like this?” Steve asks.

It feels out of place here, but Eddie’s allowing it all. If this is what Steve needs, if this will help, then he’ll let Steve have everything.

“Mhm. C’mon, want you to come,” Eddie begs.

He doesn’t want this to be over, though. He finds it shocking how much he wants Steve to keep fucking into him for hours, finding new positions and ways to make Eddie question his existence. He wishes Steve wasn’t wearing a condom, wishes he could fill him up with his cum, plug him up so he stays filled until morning.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking these things. He’s never wanted that with anyone, let alone Steve.

Steve’s hand covers the back of his neck, applies just enough pressure that Eddie knows it would be hard to move.

He’s coming before he even realizes the tug in his belly is there, moaning into the pillow as Steve’s hips meet his ass with every thrust. It’s too much, but Eddie’s giving himself.

That’s all this is.

It’s everything now, but tomorrow it’ll be nothing.

And the day after that, when they have team meetings to review tape for their first round matchup, it’ll be even less than nothing. It’ll be like nothing ever happened and Eddie never let Steve fuck him into his mattress. It’ll be back to tolerating each other for their job, and Eddie poking at him until Steve is riled up and the coach is yelling at both of them to get their shit together.

And then when they inevitably lose in the first round, they’ll go all summer without speaking and Eddie may get traded to a team that will put up with his antics.

Eddie sniffles.

“Eddie? Shit.” Steve pulls out, which is wrong and terrible and not at all what he wants. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too much?”

“No,” Eddie’s voice is shaking and he feels stupid. How did this happen? How did he get to this point? Over Steve Harrington? “Sorry, I’m okay.”

“You’re clearly not okay.” Steve turns him over so he’s on his back and that makes everything so much worse.

His release is sticky across his stomach and the head of his cock, and he’s flush from his cheeks to his toes. Tears have fallen, leaving tracks down his face.

He doesn’t paint a pretty picture.

“What’s this about?”

“I didn’t expect this,” Eddie admits.

It can’t hurt. Honesty is only a small vulnerability compared to letting a man fuck you.

“Expect what?”

“This. You to be soft and caring. You don’t even fucking like me. I thought you’d be quick, come on my back, and then find a reason to leave,” Eddie says, covering his face with his hands. It sounds even dumber out loud. Jesus.

“The thought did occur to me,” Steve says.

Eddie peeks through his fingers to see Steve smiling with an eyebrow raised.

“What the fuck is happening.”

Steve snorts. “You threw me your stick during the play so I could score the goal that sealed us a shot at the Cup. I’ve been hard for, like, six hours now, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude while you’re staring at my dick!” Eddie argues.

“You annoy the shit out of me,” Steve rolls his eyes. “More than anyone else I’ve ever played with.”

“Okay. My dick’s already soft, you don’t have to talk me down, Steve,” Eddie groans, covering his face again.

Steve pulls his hands away, laces their fingers together, squeezes. Eddie’s stomach flutters.

“But you’re good. And you know you’re good. That’s why you’re as frustrated as I am about how this season’s been. It has fuck all to do with me being captain, and everything to do with nothing going right for us.”

Steve’s right. He’s always right, even though Eddie rarely acknowledges it.

“Does this kind of talk get you off or should I do something for you?” Eddie tries to joke, to push.

But Steve doesn’t push back this time.

He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in, kisses him soft, so gentle it feels like a whisper of something Eddie’s absolutely terrified to name.

“Let me take a little more,” Steve says against his lips.

He lifts Eddie’s legs and slides back into him, and Eddie moans at the overstimulation. He’s definitely gonna be sore when he wakes up, but he doesn’t mind so much right now.

“That’s it,” Steve groans as he moves in and out, holding Eddie’s legs apart so he can make sure he gets as deep as possible. “Let me have it.”

Eddie’s never come twice like this, without his cock even being touched properly. But here he is, barely even hard again, and cum is leaking onto his stomach as he whimpers his way through another orgasm.

“Fuck, so good.” Steve’s hips stutter as he tenses his hands around Eddie’s thighs. “That’s it, baby. Let me fill you up.”

It’s not real, but for a second Eddie can picture it. He pretends he can feel it inside him, and his cock twitches, but otherwise doesn’t act like it can do anything else tonight.

Steve lets his legs drop as he pulls out, and Eddie winces at the feeling of emptiness it brings.

Eddie closes his eyes, tries to figure out how he’s gonna ask Steve to stay.

“Is it okay if I stick around?” Steve asks before he can think of something.

“Yeah, of course. Shower’s all yours if you want it,” Eddie offers, sounding breathless still. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels like the world around him is spinning.

“You wanna join?” Steve asks him, seriously.

“Showering together doesn’t seem like a teammate thing to do,” Eddie replies.

“Neither is watching a teammate come twice.”

“Point made.” Eddie groans as he turns on his side, reaching a hand out until he makes contact with skin. He thinks it’s Steve's thigh, but he can’t be sure with his eyes closed. “Go on without me. I can’t feel my legs or my…anything.”

Steve doesn’t get up, and he doesn’t say anything. After at least a minute of silence, Eddie blinks his eyes open to see Steve staring at him.

“Are you gonna be fucking creepy all night? I rescind my permission to stay if you are.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s just. I’ve seen you mostly naked so many times, but I never noticed this scar.”

Steve gently brushes a finger across the scar on Eddie’s abdomen. It’s barely an inch in length, and you can’t even see it unless the light hits it just right.

Eddie looks down at it, at the way Steve’s fingertips graze the outer edges. He doesn’t think about it much anymore, but he remembers when it happened.

“Junior hockey. Kid’s skate got me just as I was falling. My chestie rose up too high and didn’t protect the spot,” Eddie shrugs. It could’ve been a lot worse. He was back on the ice within three days. “Accidents happen.”

Eddie watches Steve’s face morph from curious to confused and then shocked.

“That was you?” Steve asks.

“What do you mean?” Eddie leans up on an elbow, looks back at Steve as if he’s lost his mind.

“I…holy shit. They never told me the player’s name. Just said he was getting stitches in the locker room and would be fine,” Steve is rambling, gesturing wildly and shaking his head. “They wouldn’t let me check on you. I tried as soon as the game was over.”

“I’m still confused.”

“It was my skate. I tripped over a player’s stick as you were falling. I didn’t even realize it actually hit you until I saw the blood on the ice.” Steve scoots down so he’s eye level with the scar and then he does something that changes Eddie’s DNA.

He presses his mouth to the scar, his lips parting just enough for his hot breath to cause goosebumps to break out across Eddie’s skin.

“Why did you give me your stick?” Steve whispers.

Eddie swallows. He feels heavy, weighed down by whatever this is.

“You had a chance. You just needed a stick,” he whispers back.

“Eddie. You would rather lose than help me any other time.” Steve tilts his head to look up at Eddie. “Why did you pass me your stick?”

“I-” Eddie breathes in. “I wanted to do something right. I wanted you to look at me and not see someone failing for once. I wanted to be good enough to wear the A.”

Steve’s forehead drops to his hip, and it takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s laughing.

“What’s funny about that?” Eddie’s ready to pull away, kind of wants to make Steve leave now that he’s feeling like he’s being made fun of.

“I just cannot believe that you would think you aren’t good enough.” Steve looks back up at him, grinning, eyes shining with amusement. “Who do you think chose you for the A?”

Eddie thinks about it. He always assumed that the coaches just picked the guy with the most NHL experience out of the few options they had. He never thought he’d be A or C material professionally, so he accepted the offer, grateful to be given the chance.

He felt like an idiot for wasting the opportunity this season.

He didn’t produce the way he knows he can, and he let his stupid jealousy of Steve get in the way of everything. It’s not like he wanted the responsibility of being captain. He knows now he probably isn’t cut out for any type of leadership role with the team.

“I thought the coaches?” Eddie frames it as a question because now he isn’t sure.

“They wanted to name Hagan. I suggested you instead.”

Eddie’s breath catches. “You suggested me? Why? You fucking hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Steve raises a brow and gestures at their current state. “I don’t sleep with people I hate.”

“I thought it was spur of the moment! Like you were so mad at me that the only thing you could do to get it out of your system was fuck me!”

Eddie’s head is spinning.

“I mean, it was spur of the moment. I never had any intentions of acting on anything I felt for you.”

Eddie’s head is going to explode.

“Harrington. You’re really making my head hurt. Like, I have never felt this confused after getting fucked.”

Steve laughs, which doesn’t help anything. It almost makes it worse.

He crawls back up so he’s only inches from kissing Eddie.

“I chose you. They said I had to pick someone who would compliment me on and off the ice and you were the first and only choice I could make. You’re an incredible player and the only defenseman I trust on this fucking roster,” Steve leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. “If I’m annoyed with you, it’s because I’m annoyed at myself. I’m making your job harder by losing the room. I don’t even know how it happened.”

“You haven’t lost the room,” Eddie interrupts, placing his hand on Steve’s hip. “They love you. You’re the hero.”

“I don’t wanna be the only guy who comes through, though. I want everyone to succeed.”

“They will. It’s just not our year. It happens. We started off bad and we never got back on track.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “It’s my job to make it work.”

“It’s everyone’s job to make it work. You can’t do it by yourself. They don’t hand Stanley Cups to a player, they hand them to a team.”

Steve smirks. “They do hand them to a player first, though.”

Eddie smacks him. “Don’t argue with me. I’ve had my brains fucked out of my head.”

They stare at each other, both of them smiling fondly.

It’s such a stark difference to everything they’ve been this whole season. Eddie doesn’t know how to handle the electricity between them. He thought it would fade once they were done, once Steve cleaned up and they got dressed. In the morning, he’d leave, and they’d go back to being a mediocre team and he’d probably end up traded or losing the A.

But now, he’s looking at Steve with something he’s pretty sure is affection, maybe even love. It’s ridiculous, which is why he isn’t gonna say anything.

“So, are we good?” Steve asks.

It’s such a jock thing to say. It throws Eddie off yet again.

“Um. Yeah.” He pulls away slightly, considers turning around and getting under the blankets. “We’re good. Hit the showers or whatever.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Eddie has got to figure out how to get a read on this guy. Seriously, the whiplash he’s getting from Steve’s words and actions might break his neck.

“You want to?”

“I don’t kiss people I don’t want to kiss.”

“Alright, then.”

It’s so soft, it practically melts what little brain Eddie has left. He’s not sure he’s ever been kissed like this, like he’s precious and like this moment needs to be cherished.

“Are you still gonna be a bitch?” Eddie ruins it.

Or, he thinks he does. But Steve is just smiling at him, amused, like he wants nothing more than Eddie’s attitude.

“Depends on if you’re gonna keep giving me problems.”

“Oh, so this is like a thing for you.”

“What?”

“You like disciplining me. Oh, this will be so fun.”

Steve shakes his head and falls against the pillows. Eddie turns his own head to smile at him.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says after a minute of just watching Steve exist in his bed.

“You answered yourself.”

“You’re irritating.”

“So are you.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“Everything is a competition,” Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, smirking. “And I’m winning.”

“We’ll see about that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #hockey au #modern au #enemies to lovers #love confessions #feelings realization

127 notes · View notes

deezee112 · 2 months ago

Text

The worst ending 7 : Starved Devotion

The worst ending 6 | The worst ending 8

Yandere!Ruggie Bucchi x GN!Reader

A/N : Today is the second day that I have finished my exams. There is only one more day left until I finish my exams. I will make a masterlist soon.

Warning : This story contains themes of yandere behavior , emotional instability , and intense , unsettling relationships. Includes scenes of violence , primal instincts, and death

Tags:

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

You crouched down, peering inside. The boy tilted his head, sniffing at you outstretched hand.

“ I guess it’s you and me now, huh? ” you murmured. His tail twitched, and you couldn’t help but smile. “ I’ll name you Ruggie. ”

At the sound of his new name, the boy barked out a short laugh. It wasn’t sweet or gentle; it was loud and sharp, like a hyena’s cackle.

From that day forward, Ruggie became you shadow.

Ruggie was clever, too clever, and raising him was an exhausting adventure.

“ No stealing. ” You warned, placing your hands on your hips. you had caught him pocketing you earrings for the third time that week.

“ But I wasn’t stealing. ” he protested, flashing a wide grin that revealed his sharp teeth. “ I was just borrowing. You’ll get them back… eventually. ”

“ Borrowing means you ask first ” you corrected.

He shrugged, tossing the earrings back onto your dresser. “ Okay, okay. No more stealing. Promise. ”

But Ruggie’s promises were as flimsy as his self-control. Shiny objects, snacks, even you favorite mug—nothing was safe from his sticky fingers.

Still, You couldn’t stay mad at him for long. He had a way of making you laugh, even when you was furious.

“ Ruggie. ” you groaned one evening as you discovered your missing phone tucked under his pillow.

“ Oops. ” he said with a sheepish grin. “ Guess I forgot to put it back. ”

“ You’re impossible. ” you muttered, ruffling his hair as he cackled.

But despite his mischief, there were moments of quiet sweetness. Late at night, when he couldn’t sleep, he would curl up beside you, his head resting on your shoulder.

“ You’re warm.. ” he would mumble, his voice drowsy.

“ You’re lucky I love you, you little thief. ” you reply, brushing his hair back as he drifted off.

One night, You found yourself stuck in an endless meeting at work. you phone battery had died hours ago, leaving you unable to call Ruggie and let him know you be late.

“ He’s probably fine. ” you reassured yourself, glancing at the clock. It was nearly midnight.

At home, Ruggie wasn’t fine.

He had checked the fridge multiple times, but the shelves were empty. His stomach growled loudly, and frustration bubbled beneath his skin.

“ Where is she? ” he muttered, pacing the kitchen. His tail flicked anxiously, his sharp ears twitching at every small sound.

By the time you finally walked through the door, carrying a box of donuts, Ruggie was a mess of hunger and nerves.

“ Ruggie! ” you called out, kicking off you shoes. “ I’m so sorry I’m late! I brought your favorite— ”

He appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide and wild.

“ Ruggie? ” you asked, concern lacing you voice. “ Are you okay? ”

The sight of the donuts made something snap inside him. The hunger was unbearable, clawing at his insides like a living thing.

“ Ruggie, I— ”

Before you could finish, he lunged at your.

The first bite wasn’t intentional.

It was instinct, pure and primal, driven by a hunger that had consumed him. His teeth sank into your shoulder, and you screamed, shoving at him with all your strength.

“ Ruggie, stop! ” you cried, you voice trembling with fear and pain.

But he couldn’t stop. The scent of blood, the taste of your skin—it was too much. He was lost in the frenzy, his instincts overriding any sense of reason.

“ Please... ” you sobbed, you voice growing weaker with each passing second. “ Ruggie, it’s me... ”

You words barely registered. The hunger was too loud, too overwhelming.

It wasn’t until the screaming stopped that he realized what he had done.

Ruggie sat on the floor, his hands stained red. The box of donuts lay forgotten on the counter.

“ Y/n? ” he whispered, his voice small and broken.

You body lay motionless before him, you eyes closed as if you were simply sleeping. But he know better. He had felt the life leave you body, the final shuddering breath escaping your lips.

“ No. ” he whispered, shaking his head. “ No, no, no... ”

He crawled to you side, his hands trembling as he touched you face. “ Wake up.. ” he begged, his voice cracking. “ Please, wake up. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t— ”

But you didn’t wake up.

The police found him there, sitting beside you body with a vacant look in his eyes. He didn’t resist when they took him away, didn’t say a word as they questioned him.

In the days that followed, he replayed the night over and over in his mind. You laughter, you warmth, the way you had always forgiven him—until the hunger took over and destroyed everything.

He had loved you, more than he had ever loved anything. But his love, his hunger, had destroyed you.

Now, all that remained was silence.

Forever.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere ruggie bucchi #yandere ruggie x reader #au doll #Why didn't you charge the battery from the beginning😭😭😭?

55 notes · View notes

zigrethsnotebook · 3 months ago

Text

[OVERWHELMING KISS]

Bill x Reader

words: 623

tags: sfw, violence

a/n: sorry guys, i think reader snapped in this one... oops. Also, I guess the Bill ones are just all one story now, so read the other ones first? or don't, I'm not the boss of you. (oh and lmk if you think i shouldn’t tag this as sfw lol)

You woke up to the same chaos all over again. Eyeballs floating around, stacking more and more people to his throne and Gideon Gleeful now dancing in a little cage with a pained expression on his face. Bill, however, was nowhere in sight.

Bored already, you watched Gideon for a bit until you called out to him. “You can take a break, you know?” The kid didn’t stop. “No, I can’t! Bill ordered me to keep dancing.” “But he’s not here.” Gideon didn’t listen to you and continued his dance. You sighed, kind of wishing Bill was here.

He hadn’t shown himself to you once since he kissed you. That was two days ago. You laid back down. It was kind of impossible for him to avoid you completely while keeping you chained to a wall next to his throne. But that didn’t mean that he had to face you. You only ever caught his voice, some yellow glimpses if you were lucky.

Eventually, you heard that familiar voice again. He was talking to one of his maniacs who had informed him that ‘Dipper’ and ‘Mabel’ were free or something. Whoever those two are. When the nightmare creature had left the pyramid again to do god-knows-what, you decided to tempt fate.

“Bill!” The air in the room went still. “You’re a giant coward!” The room was deathly silent, even Gideon’s dance went quiet. In the blink of an eye he appeared in front of you - gigantic, seething and glowing red. “WHAT?” His voice echoed through the hall. Somehow, it didn’t scare you anymore. You were getting bored with this. With him.

“You’re a coward.” There was no need for you to raise your voice as you stated this simple fact. Bill wasn’t having it though as he yanked you upwards and towards him by the chain around your throat before flinging you backwards. Your back hit the wall with a dull thud and your motionless body fell to the floor.

Bill’s eye widened in shock as his body transformed back to his yellow, tiny self and flew towards you. “No, no, no…” His voice was tiny as his hands hovered over your unmoving form. He didn’t know what to do, panic seeping into him at the thought of having killed his favorite human in a burst of blind rage.

A soft groan left your mouth as you came to. Dull but intense pain spread from your back and neck outwards, leaving you breathless and unable to get up. Bill’s eye watered, relief flooding his mind at your obvious signs of life, when he pulled you into a sitting position. You cried out in pain as he moved you to lean against the wall.

When you opened your eyes you saw Bill, holding you by the shoulders, crying, pathetic. He moved his hands from your shoulders to your cheeks and sobbed once before transforming his eye into a mouth again and leaning in quickly.

These few seconds of believing he had lost you left him so helpless that he couldn’t stop himself when he realized you were okay. Or, well… alive. Bill kissed you, this time truly meaning it and putting all the emotions he tried to shake these past two days into it.

It was intense - good - but intense. You could taste the tears he had shed and felt him quietly sob into the kiss. It left you feeling breathless and seeing stars, which could have also been from your injuries now that you thought about it.

You wanted more of this. Something real - raw emotion. You also wanted to see him like this more often. Pathetic. Vulnerable. Starting today there was nothing you wouldn’t do to achieve this new goal of yours.

#gravity falls #zigreth writes #gravity falls x reader #bill cipher #bill cipher x reader

70 notes · View notes

blessedbyahuntress · 2 months ago

Text

Sparks Fly

A Jason Grace smau because apparently Leo wasn't good enough. *Ugly sobbing noises*

Summary: Jason has always been commenting on Y/N's posts for a while now- but ever since she started posting about a mysterious, anonymous boyfriend, he's begun to slowly stop commenting- until something is revealed.

Warnings: None!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don't_offend_Y/N

One year anniversary with the best boyfriend evvveeeeeerrrrrr!!!

Liked by JasonisGraceFul, 1989_Piper'sVersion, Will.S, and 508 others

#Wisegirl Wait a second... hold up.

The_#1_SeaweedBrain You have a boyfriend???

Zhang=ChineseBabyMan When did this happen?

Don't_Offend_Y/N replied to Zhang=ChineseBabyMan A year ago. Obviously. Zhang=ChineseBabyMan You're starting to sound like Mr. Persassy Jackson. The_#1_SeaweedBrain eXcUsE mE? Don't_Offend_Y/N You're excused

Don't_Offend_Y/N

Guys I swear we were studying...

Liked by #AllDaLadiesLuvLeo, Miss_Metal_Ditector/Levesque, JasonisGraceFul, and 499 others

AllDaLadiesLuvLeo I'm sorry- who is this man? I'm insanely jealous.

CalypsotheSunshine replied to AllDaLadiesLuvLeo Count your days, Valdez.

I've_Stoll_en_Travis's_Good_Looks Does anyone know why Calypso is chasing Leo around with a butter knife?

1989_Piper'sVersion Oh, enough about that. Does anyone else notice Jason not commenting on Y/N's posts anymore?

Liked by #Wisegirl, Don't_Offend_Y/N, AllDaLadiesLuvLeo, and 23 others

1989_Piper'sVersion

Looky what I found 🤭

Liked by #Wisegirl, The_#1_SeaweedBrain, Zhang=ChineseBabyMan, and 764 others

Tagged @Don't_Offend_Y/N and @JasonisGraceFul

Don't_Offend_Y/N PIPER VICTORIA MCLEAN YOU DID NOT

JasonisGraceFul Welp that didn't last long 🤷

Don't_Offend_Y/N replied to JasonisGraceFul You don't sound very disappointed 1989_Piper'sVersion That would be because he gave me those pics Don't_Offend_Y/N JASON JasonisGraceFul PIPER 1989_Piper'sVersion Oops I said too much 🤭

Don't_Offend_Y/N

So this was supposed to be a soft launch until my idiot boyfriend (affectionate) ruined it! So now I present to you my bf. Do with this information what you will.

Liked by 1989_Piper'sVersion, JasonisGraceFul, Miss_Metal_Ditector/Levesque, and 1,009 others

Tagged @JasonisGraceFul

Miss_Metal_Ditector/Levesque You two are so cute together!!

Don't_Offend_Y/N replied to Miss_Metal_Ditector/Levesque Aw! Thank you, Hazel! I really do love this idiot.

JasonisGraceFul First of all, how dare you. Second, I love you too! 🫶🥰

Don't_Offend_Y/N replied to JasonisGraceFul 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace #percy jackson #jason grace pjo #Jason Grace smau #jason grace x reader #pjo hoo toa #the heroes of olympus #pjo smau

54 notes · View notes

emmett6 · 6 months ago

Text

i am being attacked by antis.

this is emmett. emmettnet, emmettverse, emmettland, emmettundead, emmettlab. whichever blog you knew me from.

i am a whump creator. i've been in the whump community for a few years now. and now, i am unable to share my work with the community on here because people are mass reporting me for being a proshipper, and Tumblr keeps deleting my blogs as a result.

(if that isn't the reason why, i would be more than happy to get the explanation from @staff that i've been asking for.)

now, that is speculation on my part based on the timing of each termination (it's after i put my pinned post in the whump tags).

but here are the facts:

months ago, i became comfortable enough to share proshipping content. seeing as how every other artist would link their nsfw work on here, i thought it was acceptable for me to do the same so long as the preview image did not violate any rules.

an anon asked if i was a proshipper, and i said i didn't ascribe to that label*, but i agreed with the philosophy.

*i don't have any choice BUT to use it now because my posts get removed for describing what the content is

note that this anon asked multiple people in the whump community if they were proshippers. it was the same person each time, same copy-and-pasted responses.

i kept posting my proshipping content, all with links and extensive content warnings.

i started getting anon hate.

my account was terminated. after further reflection and rereading the terms of service AGAIN, i figured maybe links are not allowed and so i switched to DM only.

this time, the anon hate was consistent. every week was something new. every day felt like bracing myself to open my inbox. i kept anon on, since i have so many people who feel uncomfortable sending asks off anon and didn't want to take away their safe space.

months pass. i go on hiatus for all of July. i find out someone stole my old nsfw art and reposted their edited versions of it to rule34, a site that i never wanted my work to be on. this person waited until the exact starting day of my hiatus to do this.

i come back to more anon hate in my inbox.

suddenly, out of nowhere, my account is terminated again.

i make a new blog. more anon hate. another termination.

lather, rinse, repeat.

i stopped doing DM only stuff. i figured, if i just link my other platforms and only post safe things on Tumblr, there's nothing in the rules against that. everyone has links to their social media.

i still get terminated. and again, i keep getting terminated after i post my pinned post in the whump tags. which -- speculation again -- leads me and others to think that these antis are stalking the whump tags, waiting for me to show up so they can mass report me and get me terminated.

i have NO idea what they would report, aside from claiming i'm trying to "dodge being blocked". which, i'm not. in fact, i say every single time i come back that i WANT people to block me if they need to.

but regardless, it keeps happening.

i'm losing a place i considered home.

i'm being forced out of a community on here i love so dearly.

and you want to know something funny? for some strange reason, i'm unable to block my anons. yup. an 'error' message comes up. and i'm apparently unable to report them too -- like reporting the one who called me a 'tumblr tranny' and said i would 'always be a woman' for hate speech. oops, sorry. error message.

by now, i've been called evil. told to listen to my intrusive thoughts. told that i should be on a watch list. told that it's disgusting that someone's mutuals still interact with me. told that i have no place in the whump community.

i know that's not true.

i'm so sick and tired of being treated like this. i'm tired of being dehumanized. and i'm disgusted with this behavior.

at this point, i'm just screaming as many times as i can. i'll keep losing blogs, because i know my attackers will read this and just keep on reporting me. what do they have to lose? nothing. they don't have enough of a conscience to care. and why should they? clearly, i'm a monster. i'm a piece of shit. i don't deserve basic respect, and i apparently don't deserve to keep my 'platform'. to stay in my community and to keep my livelihood.

my discord is emmettnet. send me a DM if you don't want to lose me, because there is no point in following me repeatedly just for every blog to be terminated.

if you want to reblog this to spread the word and show your support, i would be eternally grateful. but i understand if you choose not to; i don't want anyone to be subjected to what i'm going through.

thank you for reading.

#whumplr #whump #whump community #proshipping #proshipper #proship

140 notes · View notes

saritapaleo · 4 months ago

Text

Archovember is here once again! Looooots of theropods this year. Also a lot more dinosaurs in general than other archosaurs. Sorry. There were just too many I wanted to add!

I also apologize that there are several redraws in this list… I included a couple animals I’ve drawn for past Archovembers that I wasn’t quite happy with (7 to be exact, oop). If you’ve been drawing along since the beginning and don’t feel like drawing a repeat, feel free to substitute a related species!

For new folks: this is my “Draw Dinovember” list that I expanded out to include other archosauriforms. I started doing this a few years ago to challenge myself to draw species I’ve never drawn before and/or ones that don’t get a lot of attention. Feel free to join in! You can do the whole list, just the dinosaurs (the names in green), just the pterosaurs (orange), just the pseudosuchians (blue), just the 3 oddballs (red), just your favorites, just ones you’ve never drawn before, pick one blindly, roll a D20 and a D10 and draw the sum of whichever numbers you get, etc. Just make sure they’re posted on or after their specific day! You can use #Archovember or #Archovember2024, as those are the tags I follow. Be as detailed or as sketchy as you’d like! I’ll be leaving the story highlights on my Instagram (also SaritaPaleo) from last year’s Archovember up until November 1st, if you’d like to see what people have done in the past! (This challenge usually gets a lot more traction on Instagram; so I would recommend checking it out there if you have one!)

As a disclaimer that I am obligated to give every year: when you are looking for refs for some of these species you will come across David Peters. This guy posts a lot of pseudoscientific images featuring lesser-known species, and his stuff can sometimes dominate search results. Do not trust anything from sites called “Reptile Evolution” or “The Pterosaur Heresies.” Peters’ constant outpouring of material has a habit of clogging up search results, misleading and tripping up people who may be trying to get into paleoart. He fooled me when I was first starting out! If you’re drawing along and are having trouble finding legit references, send me a message and I can send you what I’m using!

Anyway, here is the list in case the above graphic can’t be read:

1. Your Choice!

2. Other - Protorosaurus speneri

3. Dinosaur - Gorgosaurus libratus

4. Pterosaur - Preondactylus buffarinii

5. Dinosaur - Gargoyleosaurus parkpinorum

6. Pseudosuchian - Razanandrongobe sakalavae

7. Dinosaur - Vespersaurus paranaensis

8. Other - Euparkeria capensis

9. Dinosaur - Spiclypeus shipporum

10. Pterosaur - Arambourgiania philadelphiae

11. Dinosaur - Tsintaosaurus spinorhinus

12. Pseudosuchian - Armadillosuchus arrudai

13. Dinosaur - Shingopana songwensis

14. Pterosaur - Cuspicephalus scarfi

15. Dinosaur - Saturnalia tupiniquim

16. Pterosaur - Caelestiventus hanseni

17. Dinosaur - Koreaceratops hwaseongensis

18. Pseudosuchian - Lotosaurus adentus

19. Dinosaur - Pelagornis sandersi

20. Pterosaur - Anurognathus ammoni

21. Dinosaur - Jakapil kaniukura

22. Pseudosuchian - Purussaurus brasiliensis

23. Dinosaur - Ledumahadi mafube

24. Pseudosuchian - Sillosuchus longicervix

25. Pterosaur - Pteranodon longiceps

26. Dinosaur - Compsognathus longipes

27. Other - Tanystropheus longobardicus

28. Pseudosuchian - Eurycephalosuchus gannanensis

29. Pterosaur - Campylognathoides zitteli

30. Dinosaur - Iguanodon bernissartensis

#archovember #Archovember2024 #draw Dinovember #dinovember #paleoart #paleontology

67 notes · View notes

jeeseth · 5 months ago

Text

cute distraction. (req)

pairing , ryu sarang x fem!reader ᵎᵎ

summary , sarang volunteered to accompany you while you practiced, but you're starting to wonder why she constantly keep telling you to redo the dance.

tags — fluff, short ff, trainee au, clingy sarang, a lot of skinship, literally just sarang being in love . ( grammatical errors. )

around a year ago, you got accepted into wakeone ent. and you were lowkey regretting your decision, not until you met sarang. she willingly guided you around the company on your first week there. and after a few more talking with sarang, you two becomes close! no matter where you go, sarang will always finds her way to you (guided by the lights i fear). she will always be stuck to your side like a lovesick puppy.

and slowly, this friendship bloomed into something more. something you didn’t expected. as the days passed by, you keep getting more and more attracted to sarang and so does she. the small talks and playful bantering turns into constantly flirting and a lot of skinship like holding hands, hugging and even comforting each other.

long story short, you shyly confessed your feelings to sarang while you two were having a picnic together at the Han river. and of course sarang felt her heart swelled with affection and excitement. she pulled you in for a kiss after that. and guess who turns into the same colour as a tomato!

now you’re currently practicing for the all-rounder mission with sarang who volunteered to be your camerawoman for today. strangely, sarang already makes you redo the dance for more than five times already. and you’re getting really sceptical at the way she’s grinning while recording you.

"hmm baby, i think you need to do it again." sarang muttered while sitting in front of you with her back against the mirror in the dance practice room. all that while she eyed you up and down with her gaze lingering on her zipped hoodie that you’re wearing.

you sighed and mentally patted your own back, before dancing to the music again. after that, you went to her before asking, "was it better? lemme see" you reached out for the phone and sarang reluctantly pulled the phone away from you.

"oops sorry, i didn’t press record." your eyes widened as you sighed again. "why not?! sarang- are you even doing your job?"

"nope" sarang mumbled before looking up at you. "sorry not sorry, babe." you let out an exaggerated sighs at her reply as you lay down on the floor.

"baby listen to me," sarang chuckled before pulling you closer to her. she rested her hands on your waist as she practically makes you sit on her lap, facing her.

"i can’t help it okay? how can i focus when you’re wearing my clothes.. it’s too tempting." sarang chuckled as she saw you pouting. she pecked your cheeks before apologising.

"sorry not sorry baby" sarang giggled, caressing your waist gently.

"i hate you."

"no you don’t, you love me"

"ugh! thank god you’re cute. now come on! record me properly" you playfully rolls your eyes before standing up.

"yes babe"

a/n — sorry cz it’s short + i forgot who requested this..

#sarang #ryu sarang #sarang izna #iland2 #ryusarang x femreader #izna x reader #izna #kpop #wlw #jeeseth #dew’s 🍈

80 notes · View notes

zevrra · 5 months ago

Text

silver heart; clouded judgement—

𖥔 ࣪˖ ⊹₊ ⋆

synopsis: after the heist mission, upon hearing the bad news about how their life is going to go; V is comforted by Vik who wishes he could do more.

tags: 18(+), cyberpunk 2077, lil angsty, lil sad oops, two povs (maybe i dunno i tried), hurt/comfort, v(y/n) x viktor, a lil underlining feelings, one-shot, tw for mention of character death, spoilers if you have not played the game too!

Viktor Vektor. He was the best goddamn ripperdoc in all of Night City. He had always been there for you. Always patched you up when you needed it. Gave you the best of the best cyberware he could get his hands on and never expected anything back. You always paid your dues to the old timer, always.

So why now, when you needed him the most, he couldn’t help you? You survived breaking into Arasaka Tower. Jackie died but you survived. You were shot in the damn head and somehow survived but now? Now you had months, maybe weeks to live because of some stupid chip in your head.

“Vik please. You gotta help me,” You plead to the older man. He sits before you, exhausted. You don’t know how long you had been asleep but you knew he had been looking after you. If he could save you from the bullet lodged in your fucking skull why couldn’t he take out a stupid chip? “Tell me what I need to do, please.” You beg but Vik just sighs.

“I wish I could kid. The relic inside your neurolink it’s…” He begins, following up with a shake of his head. He moves closer to your bedside. A hand touches your shoulder in reassurance but the look on his face tells you it’s terrible news. “It’s already seeing you, your soul, as a threat to its host. The data encrypted on the chip began overwriting your own the second you died. There’s nothing I can do.”

Even if you had heard him explain it to you in simpler terms a million times, you would never understand. It was your body after all. You were still alive, soul intact. Why can’t your own body recognize you? Even worse, you got stuck with a terrorist taking over your body. Truly how long would it be before you ceased to exist?

A sharp pain to your head cripples you and your thoughts. You can’t help but cry out in agony, a hand flying to your head in some pathetic attempt to stop the pain. Vik’s hand squeezes your shoulder but he can’t do much more than to relieve the pain that plagues you. He hands over a couple of pills and you swallow them without hesitation.

All of this was happening far too fast. You were on top of the world days ago. Pulling off the biggest heist of your life. The death of Saburo by his own son. Jackie dying in your arms. Your own untimely death and the miracle of coming back to life, only to be told you too were going to die a horrible, horrible death. Where you would simply be replaced by some data on some stupid fucking chip.

“I’m so sorry V.” Vik mumbles softly. The hand on your shoulder moves to your cheek. His thumb wipes away tears you didn’t know you had been crying.

You lean into his touch, sobbing into his hand. “I don’t wanna die Vik.” You weep as the tears begin to fall.

Vik frowns deeply. His hand slides from your cheek down your back as he wraps his arms around you. Hugs you close to his body. “I know, kid. I know.” He mumbles into the crown of your hair.

Your bottom lip wobbles before you finally let loose. Your arms move to wrap around his back, hands pressed against his shoulder blades as you sob into his chest. His touch is soothing but it does nothing to truly comfort the agony going on in your head. It was a start though.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Viktor whispers. How could he let this happen to you. You meant more to Vik than he’d like to vocally admit in the moment, yet maybe he should’ve. Should’ve a long time ago. Because now, you sit before him like a broken shell of your former self. Dazed, confused, angry, hurt, and saddened.

And it was all his fault.

He of course blames himself. He should’ve warned the two youngsters about working with such a well-known fixer like Dex. Well-known for dumping bodies in the river after he hired the cheapest mercs he could find. But when you came to him to tell him the good news…you were so excited. Running into his clinic, laughing about how you were going to be a legend in Night City with this newest job. Even going so far as to beg him to install some new cyberware. Which you had never requested to have been done before. How could he say no to you?

Well, he fucking should have.

Oh god how he should’ve told you no. He was too weak to those pretty eyes and now because of his stupidity you were going to die. And he could only watch.

“I’m so sorry V.” He mumbles sorrowfully. Placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you in any way he could. In all his years of being a doctor, never in his life would he have thought he’d never be able to cure someone. Especially someone he cared so deeply for.

Always thought he would be your savior. And now with Jackie gone too, could he really help anyone? Was he even worthy to be a doctor anymore?

Behind his glasses he watches as the tears begin to fall. Jackie’s death was enough of a reason to cry, but V had held out. Wrapping up their emotions in a suffocating bundle. Yet now upon learning about their own death, and how he himself would be unable to help at all, sends the tears finally over the edge. And Vik could only watch.

His arms move to hug around V. He presses his face into your hair as wail after wail wracks your body. Sobs of not wanting to die beat against his chest and directly into his heart. Every pained cry stabs him like a knife. Why couldn’t he do more for you? Why out of all the low lives in this godforsaken fucking city did it have to be V? As someone who deserved none of the pain and heartbreak thrust upon them. You were a kind soul who should’ve had everything.

Now, because of him, you would end up with nothing but flowers placed at your grave.

#viktor vektor #viktor x reader #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk v #viktor x v #viktor x you #where v is you #you are v #fluffy zevrra #fluff #cyberpunk angst #light angst #Vik is so dreamy #you can’t tell me he doesn’t blame himself #sorry if this is bad 😭#hurt/comfort

51 notes · View notes

jasperhaleobsessed · 1 year ago

Text

Dancing with the Cowboy

Jasper Hale x GN reader (requested by anon)

Notes: Sorry this took me forever I've been preparing for the holidays and school's been a bit stressful the last week or two. Thank You so much for your patience! :) This is my first x reader fic so please be nice! Posted this by accident oops! But it's fine it was practically done anyways! Not heavily edit sorry in advanced! Hope you still like it! :)

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word count: 853

Tagging some mutuals/friends cause I need some love since this is my first x reader fic! @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @twilightsaga123412 @nobody0805 @naolvshan

You smiled to yourself as you popped in your ear buds. It was finally your 'me' time in the day. And to say the least today was exhausting and you needed some music in your life. Excitement rushed through your veins, it was finally time to listen to your favorite album and your favorite artist. You were bubbling with excitement, you just couldn’t wait. You unlocked your phone and tapped on your music app. You scrolled until you found your favorite album. Reputation by Taylor Swift. Out of her discography rep was most definitely your favorite and the best out of her other albums in your honest opinion. It was different and unique from the rest of her work that’s what made it special. Of course the rest of her discography was amazing but this album held a special place in your heart.

This album always pumped you up. It always brought a smile to your face when you were down. When you were sad it made everything better. They say books can take you to magical places but in your case it wasn’t a book, It was Reputation and any of Taylor Swift’s music. Her music was magical in your eyes, her lyrics were like poetry, they’re beautiful. They’re amazing. It’s what got you through the good and bad. But it wasn’t just her music that helped a certain cowboy, helped as well. You blush at the thought of your boyfriend, he always had this effect on you. You tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, smiling at the thought of your boyfriend. You also couldn’t help but feel excited to see him in the next 30 minutes. Currently it is 2:30 and he said he’d be at your place at 3:00. So you have about 30 minutes to listen to tswift and relax. This sounded perfect. You headed towards your room, you twisted the doorknob and flicked the lightswitch.

Once you stepped into your room you plopped onto your soft, comfy bed. You hit play on Reputation and the first track started to play …Ready for it? The song started to play and after a minute you couldn’t help but move from your bed. It was a difficult move since your covers and pillows were ever so soft and comforted you greatly. But suddenly you were in the mood for a little dance even if you weren’t the best, at the end of the day it was all about having fun. You started to shuffle your feet, a giggle escaped your lips as you continued to shake your hips trying to match the rhythm of the song. Dancing hasn’t always been your forte and you haven’t always enjoyed it but when you're alone and not judged by others it feels good. It also helped you were listening to rep. Suddenly you felt a strong arms wrap around your waist. You squealed in surprise. And you may or may not be very, very ticklish. You whipped your head around to meet a pair of golden eyes. You put a hand over your heart, it raced fast.

You swat his arm, “You scared the crap out of me Jazz.” He chuckled at your response. “Sorry Darlin’ didn’t mean to startle ya.” He smiled dazzlingly at you.

You pulled your earbuds out of your ears to hear him better. You quickly pause your music and toss your phone on your bed. You admired his smile, you could never stay mad at him long.

You shake your head and a small smile graces your face. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be here until 3:00?” You question, raising your eyebrow.

“Sorry darlin’ I missed you too much.”

“You just saw me like an hour ago, you know!”

“Well excuse me darlin’ but I missed you and I’ll take any chance to see you.” You smiled at him like a dork. You blushed and closed the gap between the two of you. You pressed your lips against his cold ones. It made you shiver and yet it was a wonderful feeling. A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you kissed him. You pulled away and giggled, you looked up at him and you couldn't help but look deep into his honey eyes. He smiled warmly at you, and caressed your cheek. “I also may or may not have felt that you're a bit exhausted and I wanted to do anything to help ya.”

Your heart melts, it's official you have the sweetest boyfriend. “Aww thank you Jasper, that is so sweet and considerate of you. I love you.” He beams and you lean in and hug him tightly.

“May I have this dance?” You smiled at him and took his hand. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed play. The beat of lover came on, it was one of your favorites.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and you rested your hand on his chest. You both swayed together and danced to the slow beat.

You felt glad he came over. He always came when you needed him. It really helped that he could feel what you felt, it may or may not have come in handy at times. He has this wonderful talent of taking away your worries and making everything better. He had the best hugs and always knew the right words to say He really was the perfect boyfriend.

The End.

210 notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 4 days ago

Text

michigan cherry // part nine

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 1.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops

a/n: and what if i said this series is almost done...

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

Billy had walked out on you.

Not truly, not officially, though nothing you had really was "official" beyond what you believed, and what you were under the impression he believed as well. However, you knew better than anyone the power of spoken word- something you were too scared to value in their entirety over the last months with him.

You felt a little foolish regarding your inattentiveness to the situation. Leaving the bar by yourself, walking through the now familiar trails toward your shared camp hidden by the seclusion of trees a ways out of town, you could feel vulnerability creeping up on you like a cat in the dark- claws bared and silent in its hunt.

Without Billy, you realized, your eyes were open wider.

Not just to your surroundings, keeping an eye out in the fear of being robbed again and letting go of the safety he had offered you in his presence, but laid bare to the opportunity of overturning every one of your interactions with the man with a keener eye, no longer blinded by the flickers of light in his blue eyes.

And damn him, he'd taken the horse, too. Now that you really thought about it, every crunch of your heels in the gravel mimicked the flap of a red flag in the wind; warnings you couldn't be bothered to heed.

Among an array of other signs, Mr. Booker's trembling finger on the trigger of that rifle stood out. The look in his eyes, tinged with fear when as far as you knew, you were just young people in search of shelter from a dangerous storm. What had happened to southern hospitality? To the reported kindness of these people who had it in their hearts to take in your little brother and keep him fed and happy with that smile on his face you had seen outside the school that day a couple of weeks ago. The way he spoke to Billy and the way it confused you at the time, only to be blissfully blown away in the storms strong wind that couldn't budge the way he had kissed you in that ditch.

When you get back to camp, you're a tempest in and of its own when you see Billy sitting by the fire he had started upon his return.

"Where did you go?" You ask, dropping your guitar down beside your bedroll with more force than you intended.

Billy looks up at you, his head tilting curiously and you have to see past how he lowered his hat to imagine his expression. "Here." He answers, gesturing vaguely, like it was obvious.

"Here." You repeat, glancing over to the horse tied to a nearby tree. Affectionately, months ago, you had named the creature Dolly, though you were more like a doll to her than she was to the two of you.

"Yeah, here."

"Why?" You prompt, unable to help it as he pokes at the fire with a stick and shrugs unhelpfully.

"Okay, well, if you're not gonna be honest with me I'll have to assume it's because your ears were bleeding from my singin'. Which, mind you, as I promised, was the oh-so-coveted song about you."

The admittance was as uncomfortable as it was unavoidable, because you were sure he had known.

"That's not it and you-"

"I know it?" You interrupt, arms crossing over your chest. "Tell me, how am I supposed to know that? We don't talk about these things, we-"

"We talk about things!" He protests and you sigh, running your hands down your face. Everything was falling apart.

"Obviously, that's not what I meant. We talk about music and horses, and I talk about my family, and you don't tell me much of anything since that first night."

A moment of quiet follows, and you're sure he's just as scared to break it now as you are but clearly, he won't. He's prone to keeping things to himself, the same way you are prone to writing it down and chucking a guitar behind it before displaying your feelings to the world. Or at least how you used to be, until you met him.

"What happened at the Booker's?" When you ask him, he looks at you like you've thrown him a curve ball- knocking back the rim of his hat to make eye contact with you.

"Doll, you're gonna have to clarify a bit, here." He replies after a moment with a slight shake of his head, brows raised in perceivably genuine confusion.

"Mr. Booker pointed a gun at us, and said he knew who we were, and that he should kill you for it." You explain, trying to refresh his memory as calmly as possible but he can see the fire of accusation in your eyes. It was a look he was familiar with from many others, but never you- his precious you, who could sing about trust issues all she wanted but had hardly ever shown an ounce of it with him even if it wouldn't have been without reason.

Billy chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, his gaze finding the fire again. "Listen, I... I'm not-..." He cuts his train of thought short, sitting up a bit straighter and looking down at his hands. "It's... it's a real long story."

That's the best he can give you? When so few words has thrown your mind into a frenzy? Granted, it didn't seem like he was lying, but what could you assume if not the worst? It was hard to imagine.

"Do you... do you know them?" You ask, trying to get to the bottom of it by starting easy. He shakes his head. "Then how did he know you?"

"He doesn't." Billy insists, and you scoff, throwing your hands up as you turn a little bit.

"I'm throwing you a bone, here. All I'm asking is that you're honest with me, Billy. Clearly he knows you, okay? We've established that. So tell me how."

"I..." He sighs, looking at you with slightly wide eyes. "I don't know, shit- could be anything, could be... stories, maybe? Posters? I ain't ever been here before, maybe in passing but not that I can remember-"

"Posters?" You echo, frozen on the spot by the chill that filled your bloodstream steadily and quickly. "What have you done?"

Stolen horses? You hope, sparing another glance to Dolly chewing obliviously on some grass a few feet away. Killed a man? You wonder, slowly turning your head back to him.

"Hey, listen, it's not-" He stands up then, and with his first step closer to you you're matching it with a tiny one back which he obviously picks up on when he freezes on the spot, hand stretched out in a reach for you.

"Okay..." He says lowly, looking at you like you were a frightened horse he had to calm. "I'll explain, just... just listen, doll."

Staring blankly at him in response, he gets the message that you want him to continue.

"I've done some things I'm not proud of, and I mean that. Really, I ain't- I don't even want to think about it, but... but you gotta understand, I didn't want to do those things." He tells you, a pleading look to him that was unfamiliar to you coming from him.

While you didn't see what happened that night outside your wagon, there's no doubt in your mind that Max had a similar look about him minutes before the light left his eyes- when he insisted that those men not look in the back for the sake of keeping you safe.

"I've hurt people, okay, I've killed people, and I'll come by that honestly but I don't want you to think- I don't want you to be afraid of me. I promise, I'll swear it on my ma's grave that you don't need to be. No one really does, I just... I got wrapped up in some shit, I lost myself for a bit, I'll admit that, but-"

You've shut down too much by now to absorb what he's saying in any meaningful way, the ringing in your ears drowning out his explanations and cries for your understanding.

Billy can see it, his voice getting louder to try and reach you as you take another small step back, the blood drained from your face and your eyes locked on him like he was some kind of threat. It broke his heart as you backed away, quickly turning to untie the horse like you couldn't even hear him anymore and he's sure that you can't.

Such a strong reaction was warranted, he understood. He wishes you hadn't been afraid, or angry, or that you had given him more time to explain- to pull together his words in a way you would understand more concisely. He should have just come out with it and told you that he loved you- that he left your show because someone had just pointed him out to the sheriff and he didn't want you to see him dragged away. He left you alone because he didn't want you to be left alone again, and the irony in that felt like it was crawling up his throat and choking him.

Because now you were alone, but this time it was by your choice.

Billy sat at your abandoned camp alone, worrying about you and laying on the grass by the coals of a dead fire wishing that the earth would swallow him whole like it had his family. He was alone now too, and he didn't know what to do now that he had found everything and lost it again in one night. He figures he deserves it, though. The blood on his hands was impossible to scrub clean; every time he thought that maybe it was gone there's a new stain on his clothes, and a spot he realized he missed between his fingers. And inevitably, it ended up all over you, too.

Time is merging into itself and folding over for him in hopes that you'd come back, so lost in it that he almost misses the snap of twigs indicating someone was nearby. He jolts up, gun already in hand fearing the worst- that you had turned him in.

But he sees no one.

Standing now, pistol a comforting weight in his palm, he looks around. "Who's there?"

There's a few tense moments of silence before he hears a quiet voice. "Are you Mister Billy?"

Billy's breath hitches with slight confusion at the voice of a child, holstering his gun as he looks toward the tree the small voice came from.

"Depends who's askin'." He replies, taking a quiet step closer.

"U-um... 'M Harvey."

There's small boy peeks out from behind the tree, hesitant as he mostly stays behind its cover.

"Alright, bud, come out, then." Billy says, waving at him to step out once he recognizes him. "Ain't gonna hurt ya."

The little boy steps out then, fixing the brim of his hat so he could look up at the man in front of him as he got closer. "You're friends with my sister, aren't you?"

"I am." Billy answers, trying to avoid coming across as hesitant as he felt.

Harvey shifts on his feet, looking down again more focussed on the way the grass crumples beneath his boots than looking at Billy.

"Then... I need your help."

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

#michigan cherry !#billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid #tom blyth #william h bonney x you #william h bonney x reader #william bonney #tom blyth fic

21 notes · View notes