#another weekend of wine tasting
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Duddee, now you gotta write luke proposing to trouble, you simply cannot now IBHBHKK
the perfect weekend
a ‘partners in crime’ alternate universe installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
alternate universe masterpost
words: 1.2k (this was too cute the word count escaped me)
summary: alternate universe - the perfect weekend with your perfect boy, even if he thinks otherwise
a/n: happy luke happy luke happy luke FIANCE LUKE
(posted 2/4/23 unbetad and written on caffeine)
—
This weekend felt like a dream.
Luke took you to your favorite spots that you’ve both carved memories out of in Westport, buying you and his mom gorgeous fresh flowers from the farmers’ market, and he let you drag him around his hometown, spending hours in tiny antique shops and the record store on Main Street. He couldn’t get over how you always found fun in the simple things— even going to the pharmacy to pick up his mom’s medication felt like going to Disney World with you. He couldn’t be more sure of his decision, it was almost inconceivable to spend another day without you being his fiancee.
But luck wasn’t known to be on his side, after all (yeah, thanks dad). Luke’s always had to work harder to get what he wants, and he’s spent the past few years trying to prove himself to your dad—though deep down, he thinks Mr. D doesn’t mind him as much as he makes it seem. (Asking him for his blessing last week over a bottle of wine and a bone-shaking hug scared the wits out of him. He pretended to not notice the god cry.)
Luke just wants to give you what you deserve. And if he needs to spend the rest of his life working on it to prove it, he ought to do it with you by his side.
But he couldn’t think of how.
He tried proposing over dinner last night, with the smell of burnt cookies in the air, but that wasn’t romantic at all, and his hands were shaking so hard he knocked a glass over, prompting you and his mom to fuss over the mess and giggle over his silliness. You both chatted deep into the night, Luke sitting quietly and nodding at two of his favorite women babbling about who knows what (Sometimes he’s still convinced you like his mom more than him, but the way you both take care of him makes him tear up if he thinks too hard about it).
When you went horseriding this afternoon, he set up a picnic for lunch, which was romantic. Chocolate-covered strawberries and sandwiches made by mom, sparkling cider twinkling in the sun. Luke was sure it was going to be great timing— until he realized the ring box fell out of his pocket again, and he slipped in manure trying to rush you back to the house (The sound of your laughter at clumsiness made his heart warm though, and it almost made up for the three hours he looked for the stupid box in the grass that night when you fell asleep with his tiny Star Wars-themed flashlight).
He woke you up early before the sun rose, carrying you out to the car still bundled up in his old Toy Story throw blanket that you wouldn’t let him toss out when he brought it to college (The faded pictures of Buzz and Woody kept a smile on your face, and the memories it brought make you feel connected to 9-year-old Luke). The drive to the beach was short, a sleepy smile on your face as you felt Luke grab onto your hand, sand getting between your toes before he laid out a blanket and the both of you sat down.
Cracking open a redbull for the both of you to sip on, you leaned against his muscled frame, legs hanging over his lap as he wiped the sand off your feet, holding you close as he smiled.
“Good morning, handsome,” you grinned, leaning up for a kiss. Luke obliged, savoring the taste of you mixed with sleep and artificial peach. Your noses nudge against each other before he mumbles a reply, “Good morning, pretty girl.”
“Y’know? I could die happy just like this. I can’t think of anything else that would make this weekend more perfect.”
Luke hummed in contemplation, “I could think of a few things,” he said, as a laugh bubbled from his lips. A noise of confusion rose from you as you reached up to dust lint off his shirt before your knee nudged something hard in his pocket, and your eyebrow raised in mischief.
“Dirty boy, you get me out of your mom’s house and you’re already excited?”
And he laughed the stress off until it freed itself from his bones, pure elation radiating off of him before Eos even had a chance to spread her first rays of light into the sky.
He’s never needed perfect.
He just needs you.
His hands dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring box that’s caused him so much trouble this weekend. But a life with you should’ve already prepared him for that—and the shock on your face became funnier when you launched yourself on top of him, kicking up sand and taking the air out of his lungs.
You both hit the ground with a loud thud, your nose buried in his chest as he chuckles at your scream. Why was he even worried to begin with?
“Wait, wait, I still have something to say trouble, don’t jump ahead of the script!”
His hand rubbed your back in gentle strokes as he popped the box open to reveal a delicate golden band with two diamonds juxtaposed against each other sitting pretty on top.
“It’s always been you and me. And I’ve spent hours thinking of what to say, days trying to figure out when the time would be right, months working for a pretty ring that’s perfect for you, years loving you… and well… I want more. I want this, you and me spending the rest of our lives together because I can’t comprehend a future without you. I’d do anything for you trouble, and I don’t believe in much, but I believe in you. Us.”
You’ve cried so hard by this point that you’re convinced it’s so goddamn ugly but Luke smiles at you like he’s been promised immortality. And perhaps he has, with the future you two will have scrolling through his mind like an old film, a house on a hill, kids, a dog, shit—whatever you want as long as he’s with you it’ll be the closest thing to forever he’d have.
“Are you sure?” you said sniffling, and your boyfriend wiped your tears away like he has countless times before, though happy tears are something he’ll have to get used to.
“I literally ruined your proposal, I just thought you were horny, oh my gods…” Whining loudly and laughing, you held your shaking hand out as he sat up to put the ring on your finger.
“Well, we can fix that later. I still have a question to ask, after all.”
Luke grinned when your head nodded rapidly, finally shutting up so you wouldn’t interrupt him again.
“Will you,” he says so surely now, saying your name before continuing, “let me have the honor of spending the rest of our lives together as your husband?”
“Gods, yes. Fucking hell angelface, did you really think I’d say no?”
The both of you laughed through tears and snot as he placed the ring on your left hand, and still, it couldn’t be more perfect.
“A life with trouble is the life for me,” he mused, laughing as you covered his face in kisses before the both of you fell back into the sand a tangle of lips and lust and love.
You jolted up from your fiance’s embrace just as he thought he was going to get lucky, almost emptying your entire wallet of drachmas into the sand-covered blanket to Iris message your friends.
---
(pics are not representative of reader's appearance or gender just a lil visual for funsies)
ask to be added to general/luke taglists!
luke taglist (struck out won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun
#made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x dionysus!reader#pjo x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#percy series#luke castellan imagine#🪽#જ⁀➴ jo answers !
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Hey Jealousy
Rating: M/borderline E? (for now)
Pairing: Spawn!A/Fem!Tav
Word count: 3.5k
Warnings: NON-CANON, 18+, degrading speech, somewhat dubcon for certain parts but not totally?, adult themes, mentions of past sexual relationship, alcohol mention, alcohol use, blood mention, possessiveness, jealously, stalking, dry humping, ANGST, some fluff, bitter petty nonsense overall tbh
Summary: Astarion and Tav split at the end of the game due to a huge miscommunication. She tries desperately to move on, Astarion not so much. He finally gets ahold of her, aaaaand some messy feelings come out.
A/N - 1/28/24: Reuploading this! Not much has changed; mostly pulled it for grammatical editing purposes. Hopefully the story flows a bit better now!
The tavern is bustling with the usual weekend crowd. Upbeat music fills the air of the small establishment as this evening’s band continues their set. Drinks cascade like waterfalls into the hands and mouths of the tavern's parched patrons, each desperate for a distraction to drive out the unsettling reality of their lives, albeit for a few hours.
Astarion is perched in a corner of the tavern, circling the tip of his finger around the edge of his wine goblet. The unpleasant flavor of piss and vinegar lingers on his tongue from the spirit, mouth salivating. He sucks his teeth instinctively, trying to rid himself of the taste.
Reaching into the pocket of his favored violet and gold doublet, he retrieves a small vial of crimson liquid. He pops off the stopper and deposits the contents into his cup, bringing the cylindrical glass to his mouth to lap up the small droplet that rolls down its side.
He hums in satisfaction as the sweet flavor spreads across his tongue, floral and lively, before returning the stopper back atop the vial. Using a single finger, he swirls the additive into his wine, bringing the goblet back to his lips for another sip.
Ah, much better.
Surveying the bar, Astarion catches the attention of a young elven woman. She's aesthetically pleasing on the eyes - blonde hair with tan skin. Were he here for another reason, he may have tried his luck with her.
Astarion nods politely. The woman then rises from her seat, walking toward him. “Shit,” he mutters to himself, adjusting his positioning. He hurriedly repockets the blood vial within his doublet and hangs his head low just as she takes the seat at his booth, opposite him.
“Well, you’re certainly different from the usual fare,” she says, confidently. “Not often we get you teu-tel-quessir folk in here.”
Astarion absently swirls his wine. She believes I'm a moon elf?
Assuming that she's a regular of this tavern, this woman may be somewhat oblivious. Were she not, she’d have realized this is his third visit this month alone.
Astarion decides to play into her little game - he’s compelled to see how long he can keep the charade going. “I’m but a weary traveler, just passing through,” he lies. It rolls off his tongue like the caress of an old friend. Creating a fictitious life for himself is something he’s had quite a bit of practice doing.
“Is that so? I, too, happen to be passing through here.” The woman places her elbows on the table and leans forward, giving Astarion better access to the cleavage threatening to spill over the top of her bodice. His eyes fall briefly to the woman’s chest, but he doesn’t look at her face. Not yet. “Got the room rented out upstairs for a couple more days,” she adds, tone hushed.
Sliding her hand toward his, she gently rubs her fingers over the ones he has encased around the neck of the wine goblet. Astarion shudders, not expecting such an intimate touch, and finally lifts his gaze to meet her own. “Care to make a few mistakes with me?” she asks.
Astarion snickers. He can tell part of her story is a facade, though he doesn’t care enough to discern which.
“My apologies, love, but I’ve made enough mistakes to last a lifetime,” he replies. Pulling his hand from her, he grabs his wine by the cup, bringing it again to his lips. “I’ll have to decline.”
The elven woman softly hums in disappointment, standing up from her seat at the booth. “Such a shame,” she says, “you really are something beautiful.” She raises a hand to her lips, kissing the pads of her fingertips before extending them out toward him. Gently blowing on her fingers, she says, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Astarion raises his cup to her and she walks off, returning to her group of friends on the far side of the tavern. He groans a sigh of relief.
Wasting little time resuming his attention on the crowd surrounding him, another is quick to catch his eye. He's seen her before - long auburn hair flowing down her back with streaks of blonde scattered throughout. She wasn't dressed in her evening best, but even so, the blouse and slacks she wore left little to his imagination.
She's sitting at the bar in the middle of the tavern, a young tiefling gentleman holding her attention at present. He’s not her usual type, Astarion notes to himself, though he remains transfixed on their interaction.This is the second man he's seen this evening trying their hand at impressing the young human woman.
A smile forms on her lips as she converses with her current suitor. Astarion once again swirls his goblet of wine before bringing it back to his mouth for another taste.
He knows this woman, rather intimately, at that. He’s held her hair within his hands, traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips. The smell of her skin is ever present in his mind. The saltiness of her sweat on his tongue as he lavishes her throat, the intoxicating roll of her hips against his as he bites down into the tender flesh of her neck… the rush of blood cascading down his throat.
He swallows thickly around the memory.
They've been together a handful of times throughout their travels to save the Realm from the threat of the Absolute, but that was neither here nor there, at this point.
The tiefling begins skirting his fingers along her forearm, and she leans into his touch. Astarion seethes from his place in the booth, a rush of warmth flooding his core and quickly spreading outward to each of his limbs. It’s been months since they decided on this new agreement, though his reaction is just as strong whenever another encroaches on her.
Astarion looks on as the red-head gently pats her companion’s arm before standing from her seat. His eyes follow her toward the back of the tavern. After downing the rest of his drink in one quick swing, he’s following her, careful to keep just enough distance not to rouse suspicion.
The music from the band thumps loudly in his chest as he draws closer to the crowd of people gathered before the stage. Lucky for him, they’re so entranced by the show that they hardly notice his mindless weaving, trying not to lose sight of his target. Astarion stops for a moment to refocus, looking around. It doesn’t take him long at all to zero in a glimpse of those fiery locks disappearing down a hallway off to the side.
His feet bring him to the start of the long corridor and he peers cautiously around the corner. The woman is not to be found, likely in the powder room. Astarion sighs, some of the built up tension beginning to wane from his shoulders, and comes to stand with his back against the window across from the facilities.
The residual tension within him is beginning to bleed into anxiety and doubt the longer he waits. His mind is rapidly exchanging scenarios, all of which cause his stomach to become unsettled. Gooseflesh spreads over his arms and the fine hairs covering them stand on end. Why is he doing this? They'd agreed to be friends and nothing more. It’s his fault for not being able to honor his end of the deal, he knew, but by the Gods, he simply does not care.
Since the first drops of her blood spread across his tongue, Astarion knew something within him changed. He wasn't sure if it was due to her being his proverbial “first,” but he felt… compelled by her from that moment forward. Bonded almost, in a strange way.
In a sea of crimson, her blood would always sing loudest to him. It horrified him in the beginning, recalling memories of Cazador's puppeteering ways. The fear ebbed into compassion, after a time. As their physical relationship grew more intimate, compassion melted into an overwhelming desire to guard her. A want to protect what was his, finally his, after so many godsdamned years of pure, absolute shit.
Their… whatever it was they shared, was his. And he would gladly throw his life on the line any chance he could to insure its sustainability.
He catches a glint of red in his peripheral vision again. The human, oblivious to his presence, begins her trek back to her seat at the bar. The thought barely has time to process in Astarion’s head before his body reacts, reaching out to grab the side of her arm, pulling her back toward the wall with him.
“What the-!” the woman exclaims in shock. Her other hand comes up to begin swatting at the offending appendage. She stops midway as her eyes meet his face, recognition washing over her. “Oh, Astarion,” she says, voice flat, “what… what are you doing here?”
A practiced smile graces his lips as he releases the grip on her arm. “Am I not free to seek my own pleasure, darling?” An uneasiness begins to take root again, mind scolding him once the words leave his lips. What in the hells kind of question is that?
Astarion clears his throat. “I was simply out for a drink before returning home when I saw what appeared to be a fire in the middle of the bar.” Unsure of what response he's hoping for, he's praying she doesn't catch onto his desperate attempt at recovery.
A quick blush spreads across her cheeks and she bows her head, giving a genuine smile. Astarion huffs out a breath in relief.
During their time together, Astarion would often tease that her hair reminded him of a raging fire. Eventually, he adorned her with the pet name of “spitfire;” she thoroughly enjoyed solving the majority of her problems through brute force. She favored it, evidenced by a deep blush that would spread across her features.
Not unlike the one rising to her face at this very moment.
Were he honest with her, he’d tell her that this isn’t the first time he’s followed her since they parted - watched helplessly from afar as she rotated through potential nightly suitors. He chooses not to, however. Chooses to not tell her that he’s noticed every man she’s taken home has platinum hair. How they’re always of elven lineage.
She seems to buy his excuse as she visibly relaxes before him. “Oh, no, of course, Astarion,” she sighs. “It's uh, it's been a few weeks, hasn't it?” Her eyes are soft as she shifts her weight onto one hip. “How have you been?”
She's nervous, he can tell. She's doing that thing with her lip, chewing the inside of it. The rush of blood in her veins crashes and bellows in his ears as her blush settles deeper across the top of her chest.
“As well as one would imagine,” Astarion replies, “after having their heart broken.” There’s an air of nonchalance decorating his tone. A well-worn smirk tugs at his lips. He's fuming inside at the thought of another touching her, but he doesn't want to play his cards outright yet.
No, he wants to see her squirm, wants to inflict just a touch of the torment he's experienced since their parting.
What a spiteful creature.
Her expression falls flat, jaw tensing. “I'm not sure what you mean by that,” she retorts in a meek tone. She pulls her shoulders back. "I-I thought we agreed to be friends, no?”
Astarion glances over his shoulder to see the young tiefling gentleman from before passing behind them. Their eyes meet, Astarion furrowing his brow. His jaw tightens, lips curling upward, and the peaks of his fangs are visible. He watches for the tiefling’s reaction, elated to find that the boy is clearly shaken by his display. The Tiefling turns to speak but decides against it, turning his back to the scene before him.
Astarion sneers.
Yet another unworthy fool.
Though… a fool who has touched her. Something he and only he should be privy to.
An inferno erupts within him.
Astarion grabs the young woman by the arm again and leads her toward the supply closet at the end of the hall, making quick work of the lock. Astarion scans their surroundings before opening the door and shoving her in, a small squeak pushed past her lips from the impact of his hand on her back. Quickly closing the door behind him, he yells, “Ignis!” a fireball lighting the lone torch in the room.
“Astarion, what-” she shouts in protest. Before the opportunity arises he’s back on her, pinning her in place to the wall with his hips. His hands fly up to cup either side of her jaw.
"Do you truly believe I meant that?" he growls low in his throat, their eyes meeting in a whirlwind. “That I only wanted to be friends?” he adds, mockingly.
He's desperately searching her face for something, anything to show him he's not alone in this. Her tense expression stokes the fire raging within him.
Suddenly, he's spiraling.
The small voice in his head, his conscience, is yelling at him to stop - to pull back. She’s made it quite clear how she feels, you love-sick idiot.
Logic fails him - he cannot form a single cohesive thought. Not when she's looking at him like that.
A doe caught unawares in the middle of a forest. Eyes blown wide, mouth slightly agape. Not unlike those he's hunted multiple times in the past. His chest heaves as he drinks in her expression, a wave of heat rising up within him.
The compulsion is overwhelming, rapidly losing the battle with the rational part of his brain. Bitterness bites at the back of his throat like acid.
He absolutely must continue.
“Is that why your home has become a revolving door?” Astarion says, watching her face shift.
“Excuse me?” the human asks, offense evident in her tone. A rhetorical question, though he pushes forward.
“Of men who look just enough like me?” he continues, driving the thorn deeper into the woman's side.
Suddenly, she’s stone, cold and unwelcoming. Her face twists into something sour, nose scrunching up in disgust.
“Astarion Anunín… Have you been stalking me?” she nearly yells.
Oh, he has her right where he wants her.
"The color of their hair does always match my own…” Astarion ponders aloud, head tilting to one side. “Have any of them fucked you as thoroughly as I have, darling?" he chides.
Pulling in a quick, ragged breath, the young woman shudders beneath him, her head falling forward. Her hips involuntarily twitch against the knee he’s suddenly wedged between her thighs and she whimpers, biting her lip to stifle the sound.
“Astarion…” she groans, eyes falling closed.
She’s upset, he knows. Yet, he’s privy to how she can barely resist the call of his body against her. Why not use that knowledge to his advantage?
A heavy flush settles across her face and she reopens her eyes, looking up at him through hooded lids. Astarion sees it then - the unabashed desire emanating from her.
How ironic, he thinks to himself, that her eyes have a hunter green hue. At this moment she feels like prey, wrapped up in a delicate satin bow, all for him.
The remnants of his eternally damned soul sing in delight at her unraveling before him. Saliva pools thick on his tongue as he lavishes the thought of pushing forward, closing in on her.
Astarion leans toward her, cocking his head again to one side. “Hells, Tav… Did it really never occur to you that we made love the last time we were together?" he asks quietly, mouth hovering just above her lips.
Tav shivers beneath him, body writhing against the wall she's leaning against. Her hands come up to press against his chest, gripping fistfuls of his shirt as she grinds herself again on the knee between her legs. The flush on her face is so deep, practically matching the color of her hair.
“Y-you’re hardly playing fair,” she huffs out. She moans again, genuine and clear, making little attempt to subdue the noise. Astarion groans in response before closing the distance, finally capturing her lips in a kiss.
He’s timid at first, wanting to gauge her reaction. Tav doesn't resist nor push him away, giving him the encouragement to continue. Her jaw grows pliant under him and invites him deeper into her mouth, tongues entangling for a quick moment. The kiss is brief - just enough until she settles beneath him. Both of their chests heave as they part.
Astarion’s eyes rest upon her lips before he draws his head back. His hands fall from her face and he lays his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head.
"My biggest regret is that I lacked the courage to tell you with words..." he admits, voice trailing off. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he adds, "so, instead, I used the one tool I'm most versed with.”
Tav's pupils blow wide at the implication of his words.
Of course, Astarion used his body - used himself as an instrument. Again. To him, this is familiar territory. This is safe.
This is all I’m good for.
"It appears I must have gotten my translation wrong," he quips.
Tav shakes her head in disagreement. “It wasn’t wrong…”
She adjusts herself against the wall as Astarion’s leg falls back into a normal position, no longer wedged between her.
“I was so sure… and then the morning after, I- '' She cuts herself off and swallows. “I didn’t know what to think, Astarion.”
Astarion pushes himself off the wall, taking a few steps back from Tav to give her space.
“I don’t understand,” he begins, folding his arms over his chest. “I thought I made my position rather clear that morning. About…” He shrugs his shoulders. “Us. This.”
Huffing out a quick laugh, Tav shakes her head again, her discomfort in their current conversation mounting. “You started talking about being free, and-”
She stops herself again, choking back a sigh. “It just seemed so selfish to ask you to be with me. You were just getting yourself back, after so long.”
Tears begin to gather at the corners of Tav’s eyes. Gently with the pads of his thumbs, Astarion wipes them clean.
“Oh, my silly little love,” he says, lowering his face to place a chaste kiss upon her forehead. “How I wish you would have spoken to me first.”
Tav’s hands come up to cover his, removing them from her face. “I think… I think I need to go,” she tells him, urgently.
Nodding in silent agreement, Astarion lets her dip out from under him, seeing her inch closer toward the door.
Before she grips the door’s handle, she turns to look at him. “...Can we talk more about this?” She quickly gestures to their surroundings before adding, “In a better situation, maybe?”
Astarion can only sigh, chest rising and falling heavily. “Of course, my dear. Do you have a particular place in mind?”
Her eyes fall to the floor. Tav knits her fingers together nervously, rubbing her thumbs over the other. “Well… where are you staying?”
A quick laugh escapes his throat and he averts his gaze. His voice is soft and tender as he focuses on a broom leaning against the corner of the wall behind her, “...I went home.”
Tav furrows her brow before asking, “What do you mean by home?”
“Home, to Cazador’s,” he states, devoid of emotion. Astarion’s eyes fall back onto her, watching as she adjusts her posture.
“It’s not as though I know much else,” he continues. “I lack the gold or the ability to work. I have only what I’m able to pilfer off the unassuming, and I’ve grown tired of playing such a role.”
Astarion sighs heavily again before adding, “There are a number of… resources available to me, now that Cazador is gone. It would be foolish of me to squander them.”
Tav only nods in his direction, her expression falling flat. “Alright,” she says, “I’ll meet you… there, I guess.” She unlaces her hands and turns around, heading back toward the door.
“Tavaria,” Astarion calls to her as she wraps a hand around the door handle again, freezing in place at the use of her full name. “If you do decide to visit me, you’re going to need the passcode for the tower door.”
Looking over her shoulder, Tav waits for him to continue. Moments pass between them, the air growing thick and stale within the small closet. When she doesn’t speak, he pushes forward.
“It’s spitfire,” Astarion tells her.
He hears more than sees the small inhalation of breath she takes as his words register. Turning her head forward again, Astarion watches her finally twist the knob to the door, pushing it open. Tav steps out of the closet, looking at him briefly before disappearing down the corridor of the tavern.
Astarion slumps against the cool stone of the supply closet wall, light now pouring through the open doorway. His head is throbbing, an uneasy ache beginning to take root deep within his chest.
What a day.
#astarion#astarion x female tav#astarion fanfic#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion smut#astarion angst#jealous astarion#possessive astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion romance#fanfiction#astarion ancunin#astarion fluff
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Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)
1.6k | fluff
The stray and his forever home (part 1)
“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.
“What?”
You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”
He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.
That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.
Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.
The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.
His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.
Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.
In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.
Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.
“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”
Is that not a good thing?
Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.
Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!
“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.
“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”
He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”
Home.
You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.
Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.
You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.
You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.
“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.
“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.
He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.
“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”
He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.
In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.
“Two goldfish are in a tank…”
He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”
“It’s too lame to forget.”
“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”
“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”
“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”
“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.
“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”
“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”
Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.
“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.
“Why?”
“Because it drank condensed milk.”
He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”
You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”
“Not in a fight.”
You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.
Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.
It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.
Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.
The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.
“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”
“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”
Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.
Captain Simon Riley.
Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.
Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.
He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.
“For you,” he mouthed.
Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.
Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!
Line art from part 4
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@luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter
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#call of duty#cod#cod fanfic#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty fluff#cod fluff#call of duty x you#cod x you#female reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost fluff#simon riley fluff#ghost fluff#neighbor!ghost
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simon riley loves his car (and fucking you in it) nsfw!!
Simon had picked you up outside your apartment some hours ago, car parked out front and tapping on the steering wheel in front of him as he waited patiently; he had shown up much earlier than he anticipated, but would rather put a shotgun to his head than leave you waiting. A bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat, and surprise dinner plans that reminded you of your first real date with him, despite going out for almost a year now. He keeps things classical and efficacious.
He’d say it was well worth the wait, being able to watch you walk down the staircase in that flowy, little sundress of yours that hiked up with the wind, much to his viewing pleasure. He got out of his car the moment your front door had opened, looping around to be able to greet you with the flowers and a kiss. He showered you with compliments, as always, in that gruff and hilariously out-sticking Manchester accent you adored so much. Opening the door of his ‘69 Mach for you, ever the gentleman he is, and you were off for the evening.
He took you to your favorite restaurant downtown, the one he made your favorite by hearing you say you wanted to try it once and proceeding to take you the next night. One, ‘that was really good, Si, thank you,’ as you were kissing him goodnight, and suddenly he was taking you almost every weekend he was home. He’s sure to introduce some sort of variety every once in a while, though, for the other free nights of the week.
The man is shameless, truly. He isn’t afraid to whisper something naughty in your ear in public, or outright insult someone for looking at you in any way, malicious or not. These things he whispers: so fucking dirty, and tend to come out as you’re about to head home so he can warm you up and have you all desperate for an extra good fucking. One with your head buried in your mattress as his is between your thighs, chest rising and falling like a madwoman with exactly no worries in the world other than.
The worst is when you’re at previously mentioned restaurant and he doesn’t even bother keeping quiet as he’s signing the check because it’s well enough spaced out and, or at least he argues, nobody has the right to be listening in to his conversation in the first place. Scar themselves, and if they have a problem with it, he’ll add another just above the jugular so they don’t think about doing it again. He smirks when he sees your face has gone all red, hoping that no one had heard his vile promises until your faith is truly tested and you’re forced to just close your eyes and give in.
He drove you to your favorite viewing spot, parking his Mustang a few meters from the cliff’s edge that overhung the entire city. A beautiful sight, like it was straight from a modern painting or film, and the comfort of his car paid towards the surrealness of it all. You’re a pretty sight as well, all dolled up in the passenger seat with your hands folded in your lap, flowers and bag forgotten in the back.
Simon wasn’t ever much for using his words, but he’d do it all day if it meant hearing your sweet voice give him a response. There are times where you’ll both be as chatty as a couple of grandmothers meeting for their annual lunch outing, and then there are moments where it’s time to zero in on the afternoon wine tasting and fewer words just work better than the rundown. Times where you can’t shut up because he wants to hear every single detail about every single thing you’ve done since he saw you last, in the most caring way possible, and moments where it feels like you’ve been happily married and tied at the hip for twenty years and you don’t need to share out because the quietness is just as good.
“That’s when you know you’ve found somebody really special, when you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share a silence.”
He reached over the center console and put his hand on your bare knee, calloused fingers treading so lightly and yet instantly sending jolts of goosebumps throughout your entire body. You both kept your eyes on his hand as it trailed up your thigh, contrasting skin slipping inward to make you gasp and giggle. It’s big, veiny, and utterly mesmerizing to watch as it moves.
You were silent as you watched, apart from the audible blushing in your breath, then looking up to him through your lashes. The hem of your dress was pushed up and up and he inched closer and closer to your core until you were shuddering and unable to blink.
“Simon…” you breathed, and he straightened his shoulders, eyes meeting your fuck me ones. “Please.”
Well, he couldn’t say no to that, now, could he?
He got you in the backseat of his car, straddling his lap with him shoving his tongue in your mouth so strongly it was almost too overwhelming. His body heat, his muscles; you felt it all.
There wasn’t much time for comfort before his hands were slipping under your dress and groping at the plush fat of your bent hips. He pinched and slapped your ass to pull those cute whines from you, lips quivering right up against his own, and then smoothed small circles over the skin with his thumbs and palms to ease the sting. His hands went further to feel up your waist, just under your tits and stopping there. He wouldn’t dare mess up your pretty outfit just yet, but he loves to see you whining for more.
He pulled barely an inch away from your face, with a great, cocky smirk coating his expression. “No bra?” Your already flustered face had somehow gotten even more heated in front of him; he really knows how to work you up. He chuckled, “You naughty little devil.”
His hand met the back of your head and pulled you right back in as the other was returned to your waist. He nudged and encouraged you to move your hips, so you did, back and forth ever so slightly to start out.
But you both needed more than slightly, and he knew it. His grip didn’t yield and instead pressed you down harder onto his lap, causing your movements to stutter from your depraved and clothed clit getting harshly rubbed up against his firm bulge. Your lips halted in an open form, moaning into his mouth, and he snickered at the fact.
Grinding down on a man his size was no easy feat but you gave it your all nonetheless, makeout turning sloppier and more desperate by the second. But messy has always been his favorite when it comes to you and that body.
You always lose track of time so easily when you’re with him, and same goes for him. You’re dangerous, and he loves it. Neither of you had even noticed the sky turning from a pale blue to pitch darkness in the time between then and when he had brought the car to a stop.
His hand, rough and straightforward as ever, moved to slip between the two of you and into your panties, cupping your cunt. You gasped at the coldness of his touch and he hummed at your warmth, delving two fingers between your folds before you could totalize it all in your head. “That feel alright, honey?”
You nodded with a squeak of a whine, and he took that as his cue to push further.
“So fuckin’ tight…’n wet…all for me, sweetheart?”
He shoved his fingers deeper, and you choked on air. “Y-yes. All yours,” you breathed.
“Yeah?” he razzed on. He knew he was beginning to test your limits, even if you wouldn’t admit it. “Well, I want you to take what you want from me, then, love. Make yourself come ‘nd I can watch.”
You swallowed thickly; it was never a question with him. Your kneedy hands wrapped around the thick arm leading to your cunt and you began to rock your hips back and forth, eyes closed. The friction and the reaction it pulled from you was instantaneous, but you’re no quitter. He adjusted his fingers upwards and curled them a bit, causing you to stutter out a broken and shy moan from your slacken jaw.
“Come on, sweetheart, that’s it…grind that little cunt down on my palm f’me. Fuck yourself on my fingers, make it feel good.”
You increased the pressure with which you grounded yourself down on his palm; you really wanted to make him proud. The heel of his palm dug ferociously at your clit in all the best ways, allowing you to feel up every callous and year of strenuous work on his skin; he’s a skilled man, a provider. The same hand he brought to countless countries to do God knows what to the enemy soldiers, working at your cunt so sweetly you’re sure you’d have actual hearts in your eyes if it were physically possible. You don’t have to worry your pretty, little head about the gritty half of his life, however; he’s reassured you an infinite amount of times, and will continue doing so until he retires.
He fucked you with his fingers just right, like he knew you better than you knew yourself. He’d always have you unraveling and drunk in front of him in mere seconds, doesn’t matter if it’s been weeks or minutes since the last time, on his fingers or tongue or cock. However it be, he always takes care of you.
“Jusst like that…there ya go, honey. Makin’ a proper fuckin’ mess of my hand, aren’t ya? Tirin’ yourself out, now?”
He watched on, witnessing the affects his words had on you; he’d have to be an idiot not to notice them, and he let it fuel his ego freely.
“So fuckin’ stunning… You gonna come f’me, love?”
“Mhm,” you whined, nodding feverishly and nearly busting your lip with how hard you were biting down on it to keep your sanity. It’s so fucking close, you could just barely reach it.
“Mhm?” he mocked. “Pretty pussy must’ve been so needy while I was away, I bet.” Damn him, for even his mean side is still so gratifying. “‘S a good thing I’m here, now…make this cunt feel real fuckin’ loved. Ain’t it right, sweetheart?”
As if on cue, you came on his hand with a broken moan, practically clawing at his thick forearm as he continued to work at you until you were seeing flashes of white with pink roses in your closed off vision. Your eyes shot open, breathing erratic and pupils blown out, and were met with his smug face.
“There’s your answer,” he commented. Fuckin’ meanie. He pulled his fingers from your sensitive pussy and brought them to his mouth, sticking his tongue out wide and to taste that cum of yours he missed so much. You watched on, dumbfounded, and he clearly enjoyed the audience.
Heaven, and you should know it. He’s a kind man; he shares.
Before you could think, he shoved his fingers between your lips and against your hot tongue without a warning, forcing a whine from deep in your throat. Saliva mixed with cum mixed with spit. You took them greedily as he was the one to watch that time, lust and stupefaction and all the feelings bundled up into his observant, anthracite eyes. He taunted once more, “It’s nice, innit?” with an unruly snicker.
You nodded with his fingers still in your mouth, the amount of space they took up utterly inordinate, until they were clean. He pulled them out and praised you for the good cleaning before telling you, “Tell me what you want. Right here, ‘nd now.”
With your hands already at his zipper, palming his erection while you silently begged to take it out of his pants, you told him, “Want your cock-…need you to t’fuck me, please,” through tired and desperate chokes. You were about ready to cry if you had to sit on his lap and be without his cock stuffed deep in your cunt for another minute. “Need it so fucking bad, Si.”
The man leered and chuckled at your cute patheticness, his hand finding yours on his crotch. “Mmh. With pleasure.”
—
Now, as you’re speared open on his cock in the backseat, sitting on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, you can’t seem to think much about anything but him. The way his cock fills you so nicely, all big and relentless just like the rest of him. He just makes you so dizzy; it’s as easy as one glance and half the time you don’t even know if he means it or not. It’s like he has you under an unbreakable spell, or whatnot.
“Gotta start movin’ ya now, sweets,” he says, like he’s a man who’s sorry but knows he’s right. And he’s always right.
You lift your head from his shoulder, eyes all glossy and lit up by the car’s interior lights, so fucking desperate for him. You nod in understanding before stationing your hands on his broad shoulders and slowly raising your hips a few inches with the help of his heavy hands on your hips, hissing through your teeth turning into a whimper-esque moan as you sink back down. It burns, stings, yet repairs all with a kiss to your cervix.
Your post-orgasm slick is making it a snug fit, but you fear your legs will seize up seeing how unreliable they are after just coming once. And it’s still one hell of a stretch. Collect yourself, breathe, and you’re doing it all again. Slowly, until you’re eventually riding him so leisurely with his assistance.
“Good girl,” he drags out, impossibly long and sultry. It hits you right in the gut like it always does, and you feel that tingling behind your ear from how close you are to him. “My good fuckin’ girl, made to take this cock. Ain’t that right?”
You’re not going to last long with such a sensitive cunt having finished hard only a moment ago. The fabric of his jeans grinds so wonderfully right up against your nerves in the particular position, and your brain is utterly fried. You know nothing more but to fuck yourself on this cock until you physically can’t anymore and your lungs give out.
He stretches you out and fills you beyond what you can handle, but you’ve always tried your best to make it work for him. He’s just so fucking sweet on you, how could you not make an effort?
You’ve got the hang of it. It’s not often you get to be on top of him, but you’re doing a nice job on proving he should let you more often. Christ, he’d die a very happy man like this if it was up to him. You move to gently push his hands aside and he gives you a surprised, yet still taunting, look. You return with a smirk of your own, for once.
Your hands plant themselves on your thighs to give him a nice show as you very slowly bounce yourself on his cock, careful not to be hitting your head on the ceiling each time like an idiot, with him all leaned back and soaking in the view. Your fingertips curl around the end of your dress and hike it up your lap, teasing his eyesight with what it could reach. You stop just before he gets to see your cunt swallowing him whole, and he groans at both the prospect and what he’s missing out on. He shakes his head. Surprise is quick to turn to disapproval, though all still the same amount of playfulness.
“So pretty like this, darlin’. One of your best looks.” His praise can come with the slightest belittling kick to it more often than not, and you eat it up every time like a starved girl to a feast.
He adjusts to be more comfortably seated which, of course, comes with him just barely jutting his hips upwards. He somehow manages to hit that far-too-sweet of a spot in you with the small movement, and you fall forward onto his chest with hands rushing and mostly failing to catch yourself.
“Silly woman,” he huffs. “Don’t lose your balance, when you’re doin’ so good.” You raise your head to scold him with your eyes but he’s so quick to give you an atypical pout in return, leaving you with mixed emotions running rampant in your mind and heart and gut. He tells you, “Don’t gimme that face, now. C’mon, then. Aren’t ya gonna kiss me?”
You do so in a heartbeat, but not without a roll of your eyes to keep him in check. Suddenly, you’re more interested in chasing your own high than his. But don’t get it wrong; that was his plan from the start; get you riled up so you’ll take what you need from him. He knows what he’s doing, at all times. You push yourself from his chest with your hands back to being planted firmly on his shoulders and you begin riding him again with a newfound, eager energy. Back to grinding, more so.
“There she is,” he laughs. “All mean ‘nd angry, using my cock like the rightful toy she deserves.” And you can’t disagree.
“Come on, keep those pretty eyes on me, now.”
“Fuck, Si—‘m trying.” Your thighs burn and you struggle to reopen your eyes every time you find that they’ve closed on their own.
He takes in the sight and burns it into his memory for good, right next to every other time he’s had you all fucked-out and cockdrunk under him. Having you absolutely struggling to take everything he gives you but oh-so willing every time because he’s just so fucking caring with it. In the backseat of his car, though? That’s a new one.
It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to spark in your belly, right where he’d see that moving bulge in your stomach he always obsessed over so dearly, and would be now if it weren’t for your dress in the way. His cock twitches inside you at the prospect, even the smallest of groans ghosting his lips. You’re tumbling so fast and so blindly into your orgasm and you can’t even think about how it may be your stamina’s killer for the evening. He offers his hand and you take it. Gentleman.
You lace your fingers with his, using it to ground yourself and level your head. And it makes the entire experience all the more intimate; you fuck like you love each other because the words going unsaid as of now won’t stop them from being true.
“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Wanna feel you squeezin’ my hand when you come on my cock. Lemme hear those pretty noises ya like makin’ for me.”
He tends to talk a lot when he’s buried deep inside you; he’s cocky, he can’t help it. Despite his words majorly being muffled in your hearing, the volume of your moans and whines increase like he asked for. Each noise you make comes with a punch of butterflies to his stomach, and he’s never enjoyed the fictitious, creepy-crawlies as much as he does now.
He admires how your face contorts with pleasure, brows gone all low and straight with your jaw hanging slightly open and eyes closed. He feels how close you're getting with your stuttering and uneven movements, and how you’re practically strangling his cock as tension builds up in your gut.
Like he’s nothing but warm flesh for you to use to get off in this moment, and your entire world in others and especially now, even after his relentless teasing. He doesn’t mind being both. Lie; he hopes he’s both. He needs to be everything you need, and what you need now is a small push of worshiping degradation. He knows you, nearly better than you know yourself, and you’re not afraid to say it.
You’d be dead without him, in all honesty. He puts up with you, and you put up with him, in ways no other humans would. You’re better than good for each other, more often than not.
He scoffs with bemuse, “Even prettier when you let me fuck you so hard I ruin your lovely hair ‘nd makeup.” His eyes ricochet between your dilated ones, a nasty smirk on his lips. You’re utterly gone. “Yeahh, that’s right…I know you like it, too, pretty girl…doin’ amazing, takin’ what I give you so well… Like my loyal little fuckin’ whore,” he spits, with love.
You come hard on his cock and it sucks every bit of energy from you, exuded through uncontrolled moans and heavy breathing and the fierce death-grip you have on his hand. He talks you through it until you finish riding it out, and he swaddles you in his arms the second you fall slack against his broad front. He’s here to serve you in your every step.
And he hasn’t gotten anything.
“—‘m sorry, Si…I don’t know if I can keep going yet,” you pant. “…’t’s too good. Need a break.”
Was your mascara really running? You hadn’t even noticed.
He breathily chuckles at your words. Edge him for hours and the sick bastard laughs. Though, you haven’t given him much of a choice, considering you’ve just let him fuck you silly in the steel and leather compartment of his car and now you’re catching your breath as you lean your full weight on him. He never thought he’d find something so caging to be so comforting for him.
“It’s alright, love, I know you’re tired.” His arms wrap tightly around you and savors it. He’d be a dead man if it weren’t for your warmth and hugs. “Y’did such a nice job, as always.”
His teeth will rot if he keeps up with this all. Routine of praise, abandonment of brutality. He’s lucky he was never one for showing teeth whenever you make him smile. Makes the illusional—and hopefully never of his reality—cosmetic change easier on the both of you.
Seriously though, anything but the teeth.
An idea pops into his head; it’s no flashing, spur-of-the-moment idea, but rather one that has been brewing in his mind for a long time, and with no clue on how or when to introduce it to you. Now, however, it feels just right. Still, it comes out in a mumble, partly to comply for the close proximity but mostly because he’s never been good with this kind of stuff.
Vulnerability, ‘nd all that crap.
“Want you to move into my place.”
Best saved for when he’s just fucked you into a near-coma in the backseat of his Mustang.
You amusedly hum into his shoulder, still so drunk on your highs you can barely process exactly what he’s putting out there. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “Whaddya think? I like it well enough…imaginin’ waking up to that beautiful face, all wrapped up in my sheets…walkin’ around the kitchen ‘nd wearin’ my clothes after I fuck you real nice every mornin’. Isn’t that a pretty sight?”
His last words bite you right in the sweet spot as they graze past your ear, and you’re suddenly a weak, giggling, and borderline whining mess atop him. “You might break me at that rate,” you warn.
It’s difficult to ignore his hard cock still shoved deep inside you during such a tender moment, especially with the way you’re involuntarily writhing with his and your words.
“Every other mornin’ then,” he reasons, and you can’t help but giggle. “You’re laughin’ but I ain’t joking, sweetheart. That’s another thing, wanna hear that laugh all fuckin’ day when I’m home. I’ll never get tired’ve hearin’ it.”
You finally manage to pull your flustered face from the crook of his neck, looking at him with a surprised smile like you’ve just discovered the secret meanings to time and space and they all lie within his marked up face. “You’re serious?”
“‘Course I’m bloody serious.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing, while you never thought you’d hear the words.
A step forward. You’ve been waiting, but can’t exactly say you’ve been expecting.
“You’ve stayed the night plenty before, I doubt it’ll be any different. I’ll give you the fuckin’ key right now.”
You grin huge—so bright and lively he thinks he may just catch it like a disease—before leaning down and gently smashing your lips against his. He returns the gesture, a classic smirk fighting its way through.
Gently smashing. It makes sense, between the two of you.
You pull away slowly and barely, muttering to him through your smile, “I accept your key.”
He hums a satisfactory one, rolling his shoulders back against the hard leather seat as if his mind isn’t running rampant with a billion thoughts, all revolving around you and happiness. He realizes he hadn’t ever had the chance or reason to sit in the back before. He definitely belongs up front in the driver's seat. It’s a miracle he even has enough leg room to fit you on his lap.
“Although,” you start with a hint of sarcasm in your voice, though he still furrows his brows urgently. What could possibly be in the way? Who does he have to kill to fix it? “I’m gonna get lonely in a house that big, when you’re off getting deployed in another country.”
Every god-damn terrorist on the planet, apparently. His retirement party better be worthwhile.
A dagger to the heart he’d happily take again simply because it’s got a part of you. In this case, it’s far-too-real words that are laced in your charming voice.
“We’ll get a dog.” His words are said so nonchalantly and it’s a conscious decision, as if they aren’t the most important things in the world for the both of you. So determining for your future together, and so sweet despite his downright rough and gruff drawl. So much emotion in such a seemingly emotionless voice. “Even let you name it.”
You smile impossibly bigger, and it’ll go on to continue growing with every half-sentence he utters. “You’d do that for me?”
“Oh, I’d do anythin’ for you, love.”
You throw your arms around his neck with an excited squeal, practically strangling the man with love. He takes you graciously, big arms tightening around your waist, but tries to calm you like a wild dog by moving a hand up to the back of your head, buried in his shoulder once again, and patting it.
“…s’long as I approve of it. Sound about right?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mumble, locked onto him. “Does this mean I get to drive this car while you’re away?”
He laughs, chest inflating for a split second and taking you up and down with it. “God, no. Maybe I’ll let you drive the Charger, but this beauty isn’t goin’ anywhere without me behind that wheel.”
“Damn,” you hiss. Obviously. “Was worth a shot.”
“Smart thing,” he murmurs. You sink your slack body into him impossibly closer, every muscle relaxed beyond what you thought they were capable of because he’s just that comfortable. The squishiest chest you’ll find on a man.
“….Gonna be my pretty, li’l housewife.”
“Even though I have a job and we aren’t married?”
“Even though you have a job and we aren’t married,” he repeats, sighing the entire time.
He can change at least one of those things. He’s gonna change one of those things.
He starts again, “Seems like you’ve got your energy back. And you still have a job to do, little miss.”
You groan dramatically into his neck when his hands find your waist, very sadly attempting to pull you off him for only a moment. Groans fluidly turn to whimpers and you’d be stomping your feet in protest if you could, but your stubbornness has always translated to playful arousal.
“Don’t worry, love,” he chuckles. “I’ll help ya out.”
#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x female reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley smut#ghost smut#ghost cod
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Here's an interesting property- The Henderson Castle is an 1895 Victorian in Kalamazoo, MI. 14bds, 16ba, $4.998M. The Henderson Castle hosts weddings, events, corporate retreats, group dining, murder mystery dinners, haunted history tours, bachelor/bachelorette weekends, family reunions, cooking classes, wine tastings and much more. It's turn-key, so it must come fully furnished.
Look at this gorgeous original entrance foyer.
Wow, huge entrance hall. Look at the original millwork. It's magnificent, the ceilings, moldings, stairs.
There are many dining rooms. The description says that it's ready to make money the first day, for the new owners, so I guess the staff comes with it.
Look at the chef that conveys.
Wow, they're leaving that statuary?
Several dining rooms.
The bar is beautiful. Look at the ceiling.
They show the pantry but not the kitchen. It looks like a combination of commercial & vintage.
The powder room has a baby changing table.
The antiques are worth millions, alone, if turn-key means they're leaving them.
Beautiful stairs to the 2nd level.
This is amazing.
This bedroom has a table for 2.
The en-suite has Victorian touches. Look at the plumbing on the wall.
A beautiful bedroom. I wonder what's up the stairs.
Gorgeous terrace.
This dining room has a pipe organ.
This was one of the murder mystery dinners.
More gorgeous stairs to maybe a private venue dining room.
Amazing - a hot tub on top of the roof.
And, this is a guest house.
Another hot tub in the garden.
Beautiful grounds on 3.21 acres.
Set up for a wedding. What a place. Look at the silver roof on the tower.
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/100-Monroe-St-Kalamazoo-MI-49006/303785141_zpid/
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For the Love of Love | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader | Part I
Summary: You are dreading your grandparents' 60th anniversary. While you love them, along with the rest of your family, you're tired of being "the single one." So when your friend Bradley Bradshaw offers to accompany you to your grandparents' Tahoe cabin for the long weekend, your tipsy self agrees. The problem? Only that you're hopelessly in love with him.
Word Count: 2.4K
Warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, fake dating, reader is supposed to be young, so age gap?
a/n: this is my first series, yay! Let me know if you'd like to join the taglist! I hope y'all enjoy x
The night before you were expected – along with the rest of your family – at your grandparents’ Tahoe cabin, you called up your childhood best friend to help you drown your sorrows at the Hard Deck. The air in the bar was dense with a steady throb of ‘80s music and the slur of dozens of drunken conversations. There were so many people that, even though you immediately shed your jacket, a bead of sweat rolled down your back before you even reached the bar. Still, the Hard Deck was like a second home to you, and its chaos enveloped you with all the warmth of a hug from a friend who was a little more drunk than they’d admit.
Nat was already at the bar. She had a beer in one hand, another waiting for you in front of the empty barstool next to her. You smiled. She must have put up quite a fight to keep that seat for you on such a busy night.
You hopped up on the barstool and snagged your beer, relishing in its coolness more than its taste. How long until Nat gave up on trying to get you to like IPAs? At least this one was potable, unlike the last one she tried to get you to drink.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Sorry, I was packing.” You had to yell over the clash of noise between you. “Do you know how hard it is to pack winter clothes? I have, like, three suitcases. Full.”
Nat laughed. “Excited much?”
You slammed your bottle of beer down on the counter like an inebriated judge making a ruling. “I’m actually not going to go.”
“To your grandparents’ 60th anniversary?” Nat arched her brows.
“Yes. Think about it.” You sat up straighter. “I’m alone with my family in the mountains. I’m the only grandchild not in a relationship. We’re all there to celebrate love. My grandma tells me fourteen times that she had two kids by my age. Auntie Marnie will get wine drunk and ask why I’m not dating anyone when I’m such a catch. All the cousins will bring their partners and they’ll hold hands and make googly eyes at each other and kiss each other in the kitchen. Everyone will be so in love, and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And I can’t even bring you with me because you’re working. Ugh, this is going to suck.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Nat took a swig of her beer.
“Didn’t I tell you about Sabrine’s wedding?” You knew you had. Your cousin’s wedding was sweet and intimate, and of course you were happy for her and Matt. But there were moments that sent you teetering toward something akin to an existential crisis. And the constant comments from your aunts, the snide remarks from your brother, and the oppressive sense of love in the air definitely did not help. Slightly buzzed in your aunt’s backyard the night before the ceremony, watching everyone declare their love in a thousand small ways (an easy brush of the hands, a fork of pasta held up like an offering, a future planned by spoken word), you couldn’t help but draw up your feet and stare at the stars like they had an answer for you.
Nat shrugged this off. “Then bring a date. There’s plenty of eligible bachelors in this bar right now.”
As if her words were a spell, a seaman tapped on her shoulder. Nat was in civilian clothes, so her high rank wasn’t visible to ward him off like on most other nights. She snapped around. Her teeth must have been barred because she sent him skittering into the crowd in record time.
“Oh yeah,” you sipped your drink, “plenty of eligible bachelors.”
“Shut up. I’m not the one leaving on a flight tomorrow morning, desperately lonely, heading for a fate as terrible as celebrating love.”
“Who’s celebrating love?” Jake appeared like a demon summoned straight from hell.
When Nat first introduced you to the Daggers, they had all been intimidating. But only Hangman had you on edge. You’d softened up to the guy in the years since, but you didn’t need him knowing about how “desperately lonely” you were. In fact, there was only one man in the world who you wanted to see less than Jake in that moment. And if Jake was there, it was only a matter of time before he was, too.
Nat tipped her beer toward you. “She doesn’t want to be the only single person at her grandparents’ 60th wedding anniversary this weekend.”
God. There he was. Popped up right as you expected – and dreaded. His loud Hawaiin shirt poorly concealed his heavily muscled arms. His aviators hung off his undershirt, and they rattled against his chest as he laughed at your predicament. You couldn’t even look at his face.
“I just know my family’s going to give me a hard time,” you said in panicked defense. “Even if they don’t mean to.”
Bradley draped an arm over your shoulder. He’d done it so countless times in knowing you, like it never fazed him. It probably didn’t. He did it to Hangman and Phoenix and Bob, too. However, you had never gotten used to the feel of his skin against your own. Your face got hot, and you hoped he couldn’t feel the sweat spreading under your shirt
He brought his mouth close to your ear to ensure you heard him over the ruckus of the bar. “Whatever your family says about you, just know that they’re right.”
You wriggled out from under his arm, and he doubled over laughing. So did Hangman and Phoenix.
“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Nat said after collecting herself.
You rolled your eyes. He was already under your skin. Had been from the moment you first laid eyes on him. Spread like an itch that was always there, but one you could never scratch.
“C’mon, let’s play some pool.” Jake vanished into the crowd, knowing the three of you would follow.
You had never been so thankful to be around the pool table, even though some nights you dreaded it. Every one of the Daggers could outplay you in pool; you always felt bad for whoever was unlucky enough to be your partner. And normally, you felt a little awkward when the conversation turned to work. Fighter jets and naval bureaucracy were not things you were well versed in, but that night, you were grateful for the work conversation to overshadow the conversation about your lack of a love life.
Unfortunately, when you and Nat were down three-nothing, somehow your love life took center stage again.
Jake sank the cue ball – such a rare occurrence the four of you stood still against the wave of bar patrons for a solid five seconds before you and Nat cheered.
“Nice going, Seresin.” Nat patted you on the shoulder. “Set her up real nice.”
Jake scoffed.
Bradley winked at you as you set the cue ball on the table. He mouthed good luck, and you – along with your chances of winning – were a goner.
You had a perfect opportunity to sink the ruby red 7 ball. You lined up your shot, pulled back on your cue stick, took a shallow breath – that did not calm your nerves – and completely missed. The cue ball jumped around the table, smacking into solids and stripes alike. Everyone leaned in as it collided with the 8 ball, sending it hurtling toward the corner. By some small miracle, it missed the pocket by a breath. Both the 8 and cue balls rolled to an unceremonious stop.
“Well, that could have been worse.” Nat sounded like she was trying to reassure herself.
“Jesus,” Jake said. “No need to worry about your boy troubles if this is how you play pool after two years of practice with the best.”
Your cheeks warmed. Usually, you could at least hold your own. Your partner would have to do a lot of heavy lifting, but they could count on you to sink a few balls. At the very least, they could count on you not to do whatever the hell that just was. You could feel everyone staring, Jake’s mishap long forgotten. You could especially feel Bradley’s gaze on you. It was hotter in the bar than when you first arrived. You crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing a thumb against the sticky skin of your upper arm.
“Don’t you think she should just bring a date to the anniversary?” Nat asked the two other aviators as Bradley lined up his shot. “That would keep her family off her back.”
You dug your nails into your skin to keep from lunging at her over the pool table.
Hangman grinned, his teeth flashing against the neon lights. “Sure. Any luck with those dating apps?”
“Ha ha,” you said. “It’s no use. Besides the fact that they suck ass, my plane leaves at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”
Bradley sank two stripes in one shot. Before taking another, he gestured around the bar. “And these fine men don’t meet your standards? They are members of the American Armed Forces, after all.”
“I’m not taking a stranger on my grandparent’s 60th anniversary trip, thank you.”
Bradley shrugged. He missed the 15 ball.
Nat leaned over to take her shot. She looked up at the boys, flashed a smile at you, then said, “What if she took one of the Dagger boys?”
Your hands flew to the edge of the pool table for support, otherwise, you might have gone down.
“What, should she take Bob?” Jake’s voice was laced with alcohol and utter delight in your misery. “He’d have a heart attack trying to keep up a ruse like that.”
Jake and Bradley shared a good laugh, only to be quieted when Nat went on a run and sank four solids before finally missing.
She straightened and used her cue stick to point at them. “Y’know, I was kind thinking about one of you two.”
Your blood just about froze solid in your veins. What the hell was Nat thinking? You’d rather die than spend a long weekend at Jake’s side – you just couldn’t bear a constant barrage of snarky comments and showboating. And you’d actually rather die than have Bradley at your side, touching you in his casual way, his shit-eating grin dawning under his mustache, and god forbid his winking.
Jake smirked. “Surely there are easier ways to ask us out.”
“Yeah, we don’t bite.” Bradley laughed. “Before I consider the offer, how nice is this cabin?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I’m dying to go out with the both of you. How could you see right through me?”
You prayed that no one could see right through you. Especially as your heart rate quickened when Bradley’s gaze settled on you, clouded with thought.
“Assholes,” Nat grumbled as Jake sank the rest of the stripes and the 8 ball in three easy shots. You two were down four-nothing.
Your night of drinking with Nat was ruined. You half-hoped Bob would pop up, offer to be your date, and whisk you away for a respectful and very platonic weekend. Your heart sank like the 8 ball when you remembered he was deployed for three months somewhere in the Indian Ocean.
Reality settled in and you figured you might as well get a good night’s sleep before braving the cold mountains and your family.
“I think I’m gonna head home.” You hugged Nat. “Sorry for being a shitty pool partner.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less of you.” She dropped her voice and whispered in your ear. “Sorry for pimping you out like that.”
You shook your head. As much as you had wanted the ground to swallow you, you appreciated her efforts to make your weekend less miserable. Even if she was a little out of line.
You said goodbye to the boys, gathered your purse and your jacket, and left. The noise of the bar melted into the cool, quiet night. You pulled out your phone and ordered yourself an Uber. A slight breeze chased away the sheen of sweat on your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment’s respite under the moonlight.
“Hey.”
You spun around. Bradley was standing there, his hands in his pockets.
“Hey.” Your voice was a little too loud. You’d been yelling all night over the noise of the bar, after all. “Did I forget something?”
“No. I just wanted to say sorry.” He smiled. “For teasing you about the whole no date thing.”
“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” Goosebumps raised on your arms.
“Y’know, I’ve never been to Tahoe.”
“Oh really?” You started to struggle on your jacket to fight the chill. Bradley held a hand out, and you gave him your purse so you could slip your jacket on easier. “Thanks. You’ve never been to Tahoe?”
“Nope.” He handed your purse back.
“Thanks,” you said again. “That’s a bummer. It’s beautiful, especially at this time of the year. A late snowstorm just rolled through, it should be a winter wonderland up there.”
“Well,” he took a step closer to you. “I was thinking. I’ve never been to Tahoe, you still need a date, I enjoy your company…”
You swallowed hard. Were you dreaming? “Bradley, my flight leaves early tomorrow.”
“So? I’ve got leave. I’m used to early mornings.” His smile was nearly blinding in the full moonlight.
“Did Nat put you up to this?” You tried to catch a glance of her through the large windows, but the Hard Deck was just too packed.
“A little. But to be honest, I didn’t need a lot of convincing. I think it could be fun.”
You fiddled with a button of your jacket, unable to look at him. Before you could think of an excuse to reject his offer, you blurted, “Pick me up from my place?”
“Of course. That’s what a good boyfriend does.” He pulled you in for a quick hug. A completely platonic, pat-on the back, ends-quick-as-it-started type hug. So why did your heart almost stop?
“I’ll book your ticket,” you said over the jackhammering beat of your heart. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Just be at my apartment at 6:00.”
Your Uber pulled up to the curb.
“I’ve gotta go.” You edged toward the car. “But, just – thank you so much. I know this is weird, but I really appreciate it.”
He winked. “Anytime.”
As you settled in the back of the Toyota Camry, you took a deep breath. What the hell did you just get yourself into?
Read Part II here!
#top gun maverick fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#top gun fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster fanfic#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw x you#fake dating
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❤️Red Wine Supernova❤️
pairing: dealer!ellie williams x introverted(f)reader
cw. : smoking, drinking
summary: modern college au, slow burn with some sad elements, inspired by Red Wine Supernova by Chapel Roan
Parts:
1. I Just Want to Get To Know You
2. Mini Skirt and My Go-Go Boots
3. I Don't Care That You're A Stoner + Epilogue: Falling Into Me
a/n: bittersweet ending to my first fic 🥺
Part 3
I Don’t Care That You’re a Stoner
The following week was busy. On monday you started a class project worth 40% of your grade and the prep for it was drowning you. On top of your other classes you barely had time for yourself. Which is why you were actually looking forward to tonight. There was another party at House 09 and Sage promised to stay by your side and make tonight worth it. But a certain green eyed girl took up residence in your mind, refusing to vacate.
On that Friday, in the late afternoon, you were sprawled across Sage’s bed, with her on the floor, passing a joint between you.
“I don't know dude, we texted for a bit Sunday but I haven't heard from her all week. I didn't even see her in the cafe.” you sigh, pulling out your phone to check the message thread between you and Ellie again.
“Damn, but she kissed you right?” Sage says from the floor. “That's so weird, maybe she's just busy with school?”
“Yeah maybe, I don't even know what she studies. She's kind of a nerd though, it's cute. She wanted to watch this space movie together.”
“You should totally invite her over this weekend!” Sage says sitting up right. “Oh my god it would be so cute! And I could buy from her, I'm running low” She giggles, looking down at her close to empty stash jar.
“You know what, ya! I'm going to text her. I kept waiting for her to text first, I just didn't want to bother her.”
“You aren't going to bother her! Send the text” Sage smiles at you, and puts out the rest of the joint before standing to stretch.
You organize a text after a few tries:
Hey Ellie! Want to come over
Hiii, when do you want to watch that movie?
My place, this weekend. You. me. Space movie
y/n: hey ellie hope u r well! Want to watch that movie at my place this weekend?
“Okay I sent it!” you say chucking your phone away from you.
“Good job!” Sage says, giving you a thumbs up. “Now let's start getting ready!”
You shower and do your makeup in Sage’s room with the rest of the girls. Sage had the biggest space and the best lighting which made it the prime spot for your roommates to get ready together.
Phoebe and Ivy are discussing recent events from a class they share and the drama that went down between a few students. You try your best to focus and be in the moment but each second that goes by without a response makes your heart sink. Memories of the previous weekend flash in your mind. The taste on your lips left by the auburn haired girl disappeared too soon, leaving you wanting more. You didn't want to come on too strong, too forward, worried you would scare Ellie off when you didn't even know what she wanted. You check your phone again, your message was delivered, but not read. Your heart falls a little lower.
“Hellooooooo, y/n” you tune into Olivia's voice calling to you. “You okay? You've been quiet, more than usual”
“Hmm? ya , sorry, I'm good! I just haven't heard from Ellie all week.” You say with a shrug. You never liked putting your hurt onto others, choosing to brush it off and face it on the inside than over share.
“Maybe she will be at the party tonight!” Ivy suggests. “Arent her and Dina roommates? And Dina is dating Jessie right? If you see them you could ask them about her?”
“Oh maybe.” The thought of that made your stomach flip. You had never talked to Dina or Jessie and you definitely didn't want to seem like a crazy lover girl. “We will see, can you pass me that eyeshadow Pheebs?”
“Here ya go babe!” Phoebe hands you a green shimmer shade that looks oddly familiar…
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hours later you and Sage are side by side facing down two of the H09 guys in a competitive game of beer pong. Sage and you are surprisingly winning and both are on a high -figuratively and literally. You were actually having a really fun time. You’ve been nursing a hard seltzer since you got there but had indulged with Sage in a few seshes.
“OHH FUCK YA!” Sage exclaims, landing another shot in a red solo cup.
“Drink up guys!” You say, backing up your roommate's excitement.
“Oh don’t sound so excited! It's my turn next” Says a very confident resident, you think his name is Cole?
And Cole was right. He ends up sinking each and every one of your remaining cups, securing the boys a win. They celebrate and you all exchange good games.
“Damn dude! You want to redeem ourselves?” Sage says, turning to you with fire in her eyes.
“I'm down in a sec! Gotta go to the bathroom.” You say. “I'll be right back!”
You leave Sage and navigate through the house. You have to pass through the kitchen and a hallway to get to the bathroom. You move slowly, shifting around drunk bodies left and right. As you pass through the hallway your attention is drawn into the living room where people are dancing. Your eyes land on a familiar figure facing away from you. Tall and lean with her hair half tied up, for some reason you just knew it was Ellie, and it stopped you in your tracks. A rush went through you, she was here! She really was just busy! You start to move towards her until your eyes fall upon someone else. Ellie was talking to a girl in front of her, although you couldn't hear the conversation over the music. The girl had this look in her eye that you recognize all too well. She was swaying back and forth and just the nature of her demeanor told you she was flirting. You were confused, but unable to form a thought long enough before the girl moved her arms to wrap around Ellie’s neck pulling her closer.
You turn away. Ears ringing, your vision tunneled, you could assume what happened next. Your feet moved without warning, your mind instantly dissociating. You left.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
“What the fuck get off!” Ellie says loudly, pushing off the girl's arms around her.
“Aww come on don’t be like that El!”
“You said you wanted to buy Cat. You know we’re fucking done.”
“God, ya, my friend did. Whatever, you don't know what you're missing.”
“Oh I know, lose my number.”
Ellie storms away, she needs a shot, something to shed the feeling of her ex on her. She had just gotten back to Jackson a few hours ago. Having to go home for a week left many buyers dry so she had her work cut out for her at this party. She just didn’t realize her ex would be here.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Ivy! Ivy, where are you?” Sage shouts through the house, appearing in the kitchen.
“Shit Dude! right here! What?” Ivy sat on the counter, Phoebe next to her cutting limes.
“Guys have you seen y/n? She said she was going to the bathroom but that was like twenty minutes ago!” Sage looks at her roommates worried.
“Nope, haven't seen her, maybe she just went home?” Phoebe suggests
“She usually does, I'm sure she's fine!” Ivy reassures.
“I don't know guys, she would have texted us! Oh, Ellie!” Sage catches Ellie as she comes in from a sesh in the backyard.
“Hey Sage, you want tobuy–”
“Have you seen y/n??” Sage practically yells at Ellie.
“What? She’s here?” Ellie looks around in anticipation. You had been on her mind all week. But with other stressful matters at hand she couldn't bring herself to text you when she wasn't feeling her best. Something you two had in common.
“I mean she was! But i can’t find her and she hasn't texted me, and-”
“Wait dont you have her location?” Ivy says through a mouthful of chips
“Oh shit ya!” Sage flicks to your contact, pulling up your location which pings close by, right in…
“The forest? What the fuck is she doing in there?” Sage exclaims, turning the phone to show the girls. “Oh my god what the hell i don't even know how to get over there!”
“Oh fuck,” Ellie says. “I know where she is.”
Pheobe, Ivy and Sage all look at Ellie, with equally confused ‘you do?’ looks on their faces. “Do you know why she would be out there?”
“She might have wanted some peace? I'll go get her, I showed her the way.” Ellie says, turning to leave. She felt protective over you, she had no idea why you were out there but she knew she had to get to you.
“Want us to come?” Sage says, moving with Ellie
“Nah it's okay, I need to talk to her anyway… uh i'll text you when I find her okay?” Ellie says, reassuring Sage.
“Okay you fucking better Williams” Sage says before letting Ellie run out the house.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cold from the concrete crept up your thighs while the liquor burned in your throat. You didn't know how long you had been out here but tears pooled stains on your jeans and a half drunk bottle of tequila kept you company. You must have grabbed it on your way out. You weren't sure, you weren’t focusing on anything right now in attempts to keep images of arms wrapped around her strong frame out of your mind. Only the sound of your sniffles and the creek beneath you rang through the forest.
*Crack*
You instantly perked up, attention drawn. Through the buzz your mind formed a realization. You were out in these woods alone, at night, and more than under the influence.
*crack*CRACK*
You stand up, almost tripping, straining your eyes to see in the darkness for any sign of movement. Your eyes catch light fumbling through the brush, a flashlight?
The light gets closer and you hear footsteps over the soft ground. “y/n? Are you over here?”
A voice you longed to hear, a siren in the night, it caught you off guard and you were silent for a second before speaking.
“El.. Ellie?” You say between sniffles and hiccups”
“Oh my god, y/n! Thank god, everyone was looking for you… hey what's wrong?” Ellie approaches you, noticing the bottle of liquor in your hands, your unstable movements and the tears drawing mascara down your cheeks.
Arms wrap around Ellies neck in your mind, you see her kissing another girl, your heart ignites on fire.
“No. no i'm fine. I was just leaving.” You say trying to compose yourself. You suddenly felt embarrassed of your state, not wanting Ellie to see you like this and in no mood to talk to her. You take a step forward trying to move around Ellie but end up tripping, falling right into her.
“Hey how much have you had to drink? We should get you home.” Ellie stabilizes you, then pulls your chin up so you're looking at her. “Why are you crying baby?”
You jerk your head away from her hand, the liquor fueling a wound within you that too many have deepend. “I-donneed to tell u anythin! *hiccup* Why don’t you jus go back tothe party? Just leave me be like they all do.” You turn away from her, taking another swig of liquor.
Ellie grabs the bottle from your lips, “i don't think you need any more of that come on you're not making any sense.”
“OH i'm not making sense? What about you!?” Your last conscious brain cells form a coherent thought as everything you wanted to say comes out at once.
“I thought you were so sweet when you brought me here and kissed me but then you didn’t talk to me all week and when i do see you you’re kissing some other girl and i don even know why i try anymore-”
“Wait, wait what” Ellie tries to slow your ramble.
“because no one actually wants to be with me-”
“Y/N!” Ellie shouts. Not angrily, more stern, but it shuts you up.
“I haven't kissed anyone tonight, what are you talking about?” Ellie looks genuinely confused, and worried at your sudden outburst.
“Don lie! I saw you with that girl in the living room. She had her hands all over you.” You couldn't bring yourself to look her in the eyes, as tears started flowing again.
“Oh my.. fuck..” shes says under her breath. Ellie was pissed off at her ex for causing her more problems. “Y/N, listen to me. That was my ex, she told me she wanted to buy but I should have known better. I pushed her off of me and definitely didn't kiss her. Trust me I have no intentions on getting back with her.”
Your mind takes a second to process this information, through sniffles and tears you come to realize what Ellie is saying.
“Oh my god,... im so fucking stupid” you say, bending down into a small ball. Now you really just wanted to disappear. You hadn't talked to this girl for more than three days and you were already making assumptions and being heartbroken over nothing?!
“Hey no you’re not!” Ellie crouches down next to you, rubbing your back. “I'm sorry you had to see that, I wish I knew you would have been there tonight, we could have gone together.”
“You could have texted me back…” you say, collecting yourself a little more.
“I know.. I know I should have. I'm sorry, I was just dealing with a lot this week and I honestly didn't expect you to be here tonight. I just wanted to sell and go home.”
You stay silent, not really knowing how to move forward with the conversation. You were uncomfortable sharing so much emotion to someone you just met but at the same time you wanted to be close to Ellie. A shiver goes down your spine, and your teeth chatter a bit as a breeze blows by.
“You cold hun? Here take my jacket” Ellie stands, removing her hoodie and putting it around you. “Why don’t we go back to the house? We could just talk and sit for a bit? Warm up?”
You nod, accepting Ellies hand to help you up and guide you out of the forest. On the walk back Ellie texts Sage that she found you, letting her know she's bringing you home and staying with you for a bit.
You walk back in silence, hand in hand, tension brewing as you and Ellie both run circles in each other's minds. You unlock the door to your house and let Ellie in. Too faded to care that much you lead her up the stairs and into your room. You toss your bag and shoes in the corner, grab your blanket and wrap yourself in it before sitting on your bed, back against the wall. Facing a very awkward Ellie, standing in one place looking everywhere but you. She didn't exactly expect to be in your room tonight.
“Can you take your shoes off?” You ask, breaking the silence. “You can also come sit over here if you want.” you pat the space on the bed next to you.
“Ohshitya! Sorry…” Ellie says, fumbling to take her shoes and jacket off. It takes her a sec to untie her dirty converse, she slips them off, crosses the room then settles herself down next to you. You are both a jumble of nerves and anxieties colliding together as you speak over each other.
“So-” ellie starts
“I Invited-” you say
“Oh, shit”
“No sorry- you go ahead”
Ellie takes a breath. “I'm sorry I didn't text you this week. I had to go back home, my dad got hurt and needed someone to watch over him.”
“Oh, shit is he okay?” You say, cursing yourself for thinking worse of the poor girl.
“Yeah! Yeah he’s good now, had to go to the hospital but he's feeling a lot better.” Ellie says, a smile of relief on her face.
“That's good, I'm glad to hear Ellie.” You take a moment to formulate your thoughts before continuing. “I'm sorry for being a lot… I didn't mean to scare anyone. I just, well I wasn't thinking really..”
“Hey, it's okay.” Ellie moves to put a hand on your leg, “you're not a lot, and plus, i can handle it.” She winks at you, lightening the mood a little, allowing you to stifle a laugh.
“So does this mean you accept my movie invite?.” you ask.
“Well I'm already here huh babe?” Ellie says, rubbing circles on your thigh.
You look down at her hand. You loved it when she called you those names but you still didn't know where you were at with her.
“Ellie?”
“Yeah?”
“What are we?”
A beat goes by and Ellie gives you a funny look before you realize how cringey you must have sounded.
“Oh fuck did i really just say that? God we do not have to have the "what are we" conversation, forget I said anything.” you cover your face in embarrassment.
Ellie laughs, your embarrassment even cuter to her because of the context. “I dont know y/n what do you want us to be?”
You pause for a moment before peaking out from behind your hands. Ellie is looking at you with such a sweet expression, you can see the love in her eyes. Your ears get hot and your face gets red, forcing you back behind your arm-wall of protection. “Oh god,” you sigh at yourself for getting you into this. Which is exactly where you wanted to be really - Ellie Williams is in your BED!!! Why was it so hard to face what you wanted?
“You know…” Ellie says. “I was going to wait until it was like an appropriate time but it seems you forced my hand” she teases. “y/n?”
“Hmmm?” you say from your cocoon
“Will you look at me, pretty girl?”
Your stomach flips and despite the heat rising in your body you will yourself to look at Ellie.
Eye contact that could last a lifetime. You flick back and forth between her eyes, taking in her whole appearance. Your room was lit with a few lamps and salt lamps casting an orange hue on the both of you. You were inches away from each other, the energy swirling between you, anticipating connection.
“y/n, would you like to be my girlfriend?” Ellie asks, holding her breath and searching for a response.
You blink, forcing your mind to make quick understanding of her ask.
“Girlfriend?” you say, half in shock, half making sure you heard her right.
“Girlfriend.” Ellie says, bringing her hand to your cheek.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Aw shit wait!” Ellie pauses the movie right before the opening credits start.
“Babeeee come on! What did you forget now?”
“Y/n, i am so sorry, but there is no way I can watch a movie about space without being in space.” You both laugh at her stupid joke.
“Ellie, I don't care that you’re a stoner. You just have to share! Girlfriend rules!” You say jumping up from the bed.
“My girl always smokes for free,” Ellie says, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling you in between her legs to kiss you.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Epilogue
Falling Into Me
“I found the umbrella!” Ivy shouts into the house
“Okay I got sunscreen, towels, uhh food, water, weed hehe” Sage is standing by the door surveying the group's bags.
“We’ll start packing the cars” Phoebe says, Daniel next to her grabbing the cooler.
“y/n! Ellie! Let's go!” Olivia yells up the stairs.
—--------------
“How do I look babe?”
“Holy shiit….” Ellie turns around to look at you modeling a new bathing suit. You’re in your room, the sun illuminating your frame and dancing in Ellie's eyes. “I need you… like right now”
You hear Olivia call up the stairs. “Well you gotta wait, you'll just have to eye fuck me all day.” you say with a giggle. The way that Ellie appreciates you in every way has made your confidence skyrocket. You had come out of your shell to her more in the past two months than you have with anyone. It wasn't surprising though. Sage had said with the way that you two look at eachother, it's like you had been searching your whole lives and finally found each other.
“Fuck youre such a tease” Ellie says grabbing at you with needy hands and soft kisses on your neck.
“Mmm common Ellie we gotta go-AA!” You feel sharp fangs in place of her kisses. Ellie bites you a little harder than she thought, pulling away with the goofiest grin, looking so proud of herself.
“Did you just put your canine teeth in the side of my neck!?” You ask, looking at her in shock.
“Yep!” Ellie says, still smiling, she grabs your chin and tilts your head so she can see her dirty work. “Oh shit..” Ellies face turns to shock as she tries not to laugh, amused with herself.
“Babe.. whaaat” You say, releasing from her grasp and going over to your mirror. There on the side of your neck you see small indents in your skin from where she bit you. In the same reflection you see Ellie behind you, unable to control her laughter now at the situation.
“I marked you babe!” She laughs, standing in the sunlight, wearing a pair of swim trunks, an old t-shirt, bucket hat and crocks. Summer had come fast bringing heat and passion as your relationship with Ellie bloomed.
You stood there half in shock, half in awe at your life now. Looking at the girl you were so happy to call yours. Memories of the past two months cycled through your mind. Your late night movie dates, studying in the cafe together, sitting at what you now consider ‘our spot’ in the woods, talking endlessly with each other. You turn back to your girl, lunging playfully at her, falling into her.
“You come here now! I have to mark you too!”
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taglist: @vqxen @bready101 @sourgummywormsss @a-little-bit-of-everybody @shewantstoknow @liasxeatt @onlinelesbo
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie smut#ellie tlou#ellie williams smut#the last of us
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For Daniel x sunshine what about sunshine being courted by another team to work for them, and it turns into a fluffy moment about how sunshine has no plans of leaving Daniel and not work on his car an stuff because despite working for a team, they're a team themselves :) I hope this makes sense!! <3
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
.
It had been like every other night in your shared apartment.
Daniel was in the kitchen, hips swaying and lips mouthing the words to whatever playlist he had put on whilst he made dinner. Salem was perched on the kitchen counter, nibbling on the small bits of food Daniel would sneak him, despite your constant insistence not to do so. You were in your office, finishing up some emails you needed to send off before you could enjoy the relaxing night with your boyfriend, and the odd weekend you both had off between races.
Soon enough, you would finish your work and make your way into the kitchen, cracking open one of Daniel’s branded wine bottles and pour two glasses to enjoy with dinner. Daniel would make a joke about complimenting the chef. You would lean over and kiss him on the lips, letting the bittersweet taste of the wine linger on both your tongues. And then, you would curl up on the couch with Salem beside you both as you finished off whatever show you two were binging together.
That was how the night was supposed to go.
The night took a turn when Daniel reached over to grab a lemon from the fruit basket, needing it for the recipe he had impulsively decided to make for the night, only to come to a halt when he noticed a letter lying at the breakfast bar.
A letter with your name on it and the McLaren logo in the corner.
He frowned, quickly turning the stove off and giving Salem a soft scratch under his chin when he meowed out for Daniel, but his attention was fully focused on the letter. He turned it over, seeing it had already been opened and his stomach dropped a little.
It was wrong. He knew it was wrong. And yet, he still pulled the letter out anyways and let his eyes scan over the words, only for the pit of anxiety inside him to grow with each passing line.
A job offer. They were fucking offering you a job with them, and for a hefty amount as well.
He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the sound of your feet padding down the corridor towards the kitchen, or even see you as you rounded the corner, smiling as the smell of the dinner Daniel was making wafted through the house.
However, you stopped short when you noticed your boyfriend glaring at something.
“Babe? You good?”
Daniel lifted his head, the uneasiness clearly written across his face because your face instantly dropped in concern as you stepped towards him, a frown on your lips.
“Danny, what’s wrong?”
He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, he didn’t even know if he could say anything as he lifted the letter. You didn’t need to look at it, the logo printed on the page told you exactly what it was and you let out a heavy sigh.
“It’s not what you think,” you murmured softly.
“I didn’t know you were looking for another job,” Daniel commented vaguely, because the truth was that he would never hold your career back. He would never want to be the kind of boyfriend that told you what to do or where to go.
But the idea of you working for McLaren of all teams made him a little sick to his stomach.
“I’m not,” you said with a shake of your head, stepping closer to him. “They sent me an offer unprompted.”
“It’s a good offer,” he murmured, every inch of him wanting to reach out to hold you but he held back.
“Nah,” you said with a shrug. “They couldn’t offer me what I wanted.”
His brows furrowed together. “What’s that?”
“You, Grumps,” you smiled up at him, teasingly poking his stomach until you saw his lips twitch upwards. “They could offer me millions and I would have still said no.”
His chest tightened at your words. “All for little ol’ me?”
“We’re a team,” you told him, your words thick and heavy with sincerity as you wound your arms around his neck, and his instinctively fell to your waist. “Sunshine and Grumps. They can’t separate us.”
Daniel couldn’t fight back his smile. “No, they can’t. That genius brain of yours is reserved for my car and my car only, Sunshine.”
“Always,” you smiled, tilting your head back until he caught the hint to lean down and kiss you. “Plus, I’d never go to those fuckers of all teams.”
Daniel snorted. “You can’t hold a grudge, Sunshine.”
“Watch me,” you muttered. “I love the boys there but fuck that team and everything they put you through. I would never betray you like that.”
“I know,” Daniel smiled before he leaned down to kiss you again.
.
#daniel ricciardo#formula one#f1#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x y/n#daniel ricciardo fic#daniel ricciardo one shot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot
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GF! HAZEL DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO COOK:
literally inspired by the day my roomie made a lasagna and it tasted horribly but we ate anyway cause we did spend some money on that. enjoy :) !
—I made you something! — Hazel said excited as she opened the door for her girlfriend to come in.
Her girlfriend, Y/N, always made delicious food to hazel. even after six months it happened, Hazel dreamed with the nutella cookies she made once, and whenever she was sad Y/N would come over with cupcakes. so, she though it was an amazing idea to cook some delicious dinner for her.
—Oh, what did do? —Y/N went to take her coat, being beat by Hazel, who crossed to her other side taking it off first before kissing her cheeks.
—I made you dinner!
Hazel looked adorable. Her hair caught in a small ponytail, a shirt that looked way to big on her and sweatpants. Plus, the proud smile on her face made she look even more perfect.
—You cooked us dinner?
—Yep! I made us some lasagna, grabbed some delicious wine and there's cake!
—That's great love! — It wasn't.
Y/N and Hazel were together since highschool, with this whole time Hazel already cooked to her couple of times and she was the worst. Y/N literally got food poisoning from eating Hazel omelette once. But, of course she couldn't tell her pretty girl that she couldn't cook to save her life.
—Let's go, I'm kinda of starving.
—Sure. —Y/N gave Hazel a smile. Once she got at the table in Haze's small kitchen, the smiled dropped. It was so romantic and cute, obviously Hazel had out some effort doing all that. Doing that lasagna.
—Wow, that's a big lasagna. —Y/N stated, if it was a bug portion, of course Hazel would eat. What if Hazel got food poisoning from her cooking? That wouldn't do. She had a big Psychology test the next day worthy 75% of her final grade.
She can't eat this. She'll die! Y/N though I need to do something!
—Baby, what about we go to your room pretty quick. Your roommate is out right? —Y/N started running her finger into Hazel hair while kissing her neck —We should enjoy your apartment since we have it to ourselves. —she tried, kissing Hazel lips this time.
—And we will, once we eat. Because I'm starving. I can't have sex if I can't barely keep myself up because all the hunger. —Hazel moved Y/N to the side, pulling the chair out for her. —See, the lasagna is in heart shape. Isn't it cute?
—Yeah. —Y/N stared at the lasagna in front of her. —You sure you don't want to have sex like... now?
—Nope. I really want to eat first.
—You can eat me.
—The lasagna, Y/N. —Hazel laughed, pouring wine into the Kuromi and My Melody cups that Y/N gave to her as a house warming gift. —Are you ovulating or something?
—I just really missed you. —Y/N mumbled, And want to protect you from your cooking.
—We have all the weekend, babe. —Hazel rubbed her girlfriend hands on top of the table. —Now, taste it and tell me what you think.
So she did. The sauce was way to salty, the meat was undercooked, but Hazel was staring at her with those gorgeous eyes full of expectation. So, just like Y/N did when Hazel gave her undercooked pancakes, burnt cookies, a very weird tasting omelette, she smiled.
—It's perfect babe.
—Then let's eat! —Hazel took a big portion, making a disgusted face. —Babe it tastes like shit!
—Well, I loved it! —Y/N took another portion, Hazel holding her girlfriend hands so she wouldn't do that again —It's delicious to me, your effort was totally worth as always. Very yummy!
—Y/N this will make you sick! Stop eating that!
—I survived the omelette, I will survive this one!
Hazel looked confused, then it all clicked inside her head.
—Does all my cooking taste bad?
—Ah... Well... A little? —There it was! The realization that Hazel shouldn't have had. But, she didn't look sad as Y/N imagined she would, she was laughing, really loud.
—Why did you eat all those things, dummy? —she whipped a tear, moving to stand by Y/N cuddling her
—Because you out so much effort on these and I didn't want to make you sad. —Y/N said, her lips jutting out because Hazel was pushing her cheeks together and kissing her repeatedly.
—You're the cutest. Gosh! —with one final kiss, Hazel smiled at her —I won't cook for you anymore. We'll always eat take-out when you're over, okay? Don't want you to get sick, okay?
Y/N nodded, nuzzling into Hazel's neck. She really was whipped for her, to the point of risking —for the fifith time!— to get food poisoning, just go make her happy.
—I'll order us pizza, okay? And you'll find a good movie for us.
—Okay. —Y/N smiled —Can we watch some horror one?
—Sure.
Y/N got up, getting ready to go to the living room, getting quickly stopped by Hazel hands. That wrapped around her wrists, bringing Y/N to a quick kiss.
—And I love you.
—Love you too. Even though you cant cook a lasagna. —Y/N laughed.
—So this is how is gonna be now? —Hazel screamed while watching her girlfriend run to the living room with a smile on her face.
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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. V
✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.
Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader
AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series
Rating: M, 18+
Word Count: 3,342
Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jk has milk obsession, oc injured, both lonely :(, mommy issues, lots of family drama/in-laws, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, jk being good hubby to oc
Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+
A/N: I've heard the requests and I think it's time to fulfill them–how did they get together?! Yes, it's here and I'm excited to finally share! Also, yes this took up whole chapter so a tiny break from present-day stuff but we'll be back at it next chapter. 💞
<< ch. IV ༓ ch. Vl >> | series masterlist
Before marrying you, Jungkook had the same routine. He got up, showered, brushed his teeth, put work clothes on, grabbed breakfast, and ran out the door with twenty minutes to spare. Trying to find a parking spot at 7 a.m. at the university was no joke and he had to leave early or some college kid would take the last spot and not think twice.
His night routine was similar. Jungkook finished the day between 5 and 6 pm, slowly regretting he ever agreed to teach evening classes. He’d kick off his shoes, eat dinner, grade some of his student’s papers if needed, brush his teeth again, and went to bed.
It was a constant cycle and with no one around, not even a pet, Jungkook’s life was fairly quiet and systematic. Sometimes his buddies would come over on the weekend for a couple of hours and that surely rocked his world.
But that wouldn’t happen often during the school season due to his ridiculously packed teaching schedule. The most recent person he’d hang around during those months was Taehyung and if he wasn’t free, Jungkook would spend his time at the grocery store–stocking up on milk.
4 years ago
“That was two weeks ago man,” Jungkook says, pushing a cart with five-gallon jugs of milk to his car. He’s on the phone with Taehyung who's reminiscing about the grand opening of the new art exhibit and how “lovely” it was to meet you there.
Jungkook doesn’t need reminding though.
He clearly remembers seeing you there and Taehyung happily making a complete fool of him once he found out who you were. Thankfully you hadn’t seemed to mind too much since you and Taehyung soon moved on to discuss various art theories, masterpieces, and underrepresented artists.
“You didn't have to stay y'know.” If Jungkook didn't know any better he'd think Taehyung was salty. "You could've left at 8 pm like you planned. __ and I would have been fine."
Jungkook winces hearing the man's argument. He did think about going home at 8, but it unsettled him to leave you alone with Taehyung. His colleague was enjoying himself a little too much that night and there’s no telling what he’d do or say when he’s overly comfortable.
Jungkook had to stay until you left.
"Are you kidding me? Leaving you unsupervised would've been the worst idea after all your endless blubbering." Jungkook pops the trunk of his car, stuffing the jugs of milk inside. "God knows what you'd scar __ with."
On the other line, Taehyung smirks through the speaker. "No, that's not it......you weren't going to leave me alone with a woman, an attractive one at that."
Jungkook grabs the last jug of milk, slamming it on the floorboard. "Student, and stop talking about her like that. She's my stu—"
"Say student one more time and I'm going to take all your milk and give it to Yoongi hyung's cats."
"I swear to god, Taehyung, if you touch my milk I'm never going to another art museum or wine tasting with you again." Jungkook is very protective of his dairy products.
"That's okay. I don't need you when __ says she'll be happy to go with me sometime." Smug bastard, Jungkook thinks. There's no way you said that.
"That's bull Taehy—"
"Look she's in her masters and is literally eight years younger than you. It's not that serious so stop acting like she's fresh out of high school. Besides, you said it yourself, she's not a child."
Jungkook grunts, shoving the cart into the others. "She's a young lady who happens to be enrolled in the school. As faculty, we have no business thinking or talking about her outside those terms."
"For fucksake, Kook. You always make things so complicated!" Taehyung's baritone voice cracks through the speaker. "I'm just trying to get you to admit that you're into her some way or another. How many other students have I stayed to talk to and you couldn't give a—"
Just then a loud, high-pitch screech interrupts the call. Jungkook whips his head around immediately. He doesn't spot anything at first but a string of profanities remains audible in the distance.
"Jungkook, are you okay?"
"Yeah, but someones screaming and I can't tell where it's coming from." Jungkook walks around the grocery parking lot, eyes darting left and right. "Oh shit!"
There, near the bus stop, you lay on your side with your right leg stretched out and blood running from your temple. You try getting up but you fall right back down, cursing sharply.
"Taehyung I gotta go, it's __. I don't know what happened but she's laying by the bus stop and I think she needs help!" Jungkook shuts his phone and races to where you lay. He kneels next to you with sheer horror on his face. "__, what happened? What can I do?"
"Damn college boys, Dr. Jeon," you spit, dragging your leg up as far as you can. You reach for your bag which had flung about a foot away when you crashed. "So fucking eager to get off the bus and—oh damn that hurts like a bitch!"
"What hurts?" Jungkook lunges forward to catch your torso from slamming on the hard concrete. "Stay still okay? We need to get you to the hospital."
"I'm all set, but thanks. It'll likely heal in a day."
Jungkook shakes his head and wraps an arm under your back and legs. "Can you put your arms around my neck?"
"Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but I don't want to go to the hospital. Please."
You're serious. No trace of bluffing or even simply trying to act tough. You really don't want to go.
"You need to be checked by a doctor sweetheart," Jungkook insists. "Whatever happened has made it so you can't walk. C'mon, my car is nearby and I'll drive you over."
"No, wait!" He feels you push against his chest.
"__. I'm not leaving you without making sure you didn't break a bone or something. I don't want to make things worse but you don't look so hot right now. So please, let me take you." Jungkook lifts you up when you give a barely consenting yes.
"You sprained your ankle pretty bad hun." Dr. Kim Seokjin draws your attention to the X-ray scan. "Second degree." He points to the visual of your partially torn ligament. "There's going to be a lot of swelling so you're gonna need to stay off your foot for at least 4 weeks."
"Do I have to stay here?" is your first question.
"For the first couple of weeks, we strongly advise—yes." Dr. Kim moves on to the next X-ray scan. "You also cracked a rib which will also take about 4 weeks to heal, or more. Of course you're head has suffered a mild concussion as well but it's very mild thankfully." Dr. Kim catches sight of Jungkook next to you, staring at the scans. "You're wife's going to be okay," he says mid-diagnoses.
"We're not—" you start to say but Dr. Kim continues talking.
"Wife, girlfriend, lover, what have you. The point is, much of what we have here will recover with a month of rest, ice, and elevation." He takes a pen from his pocket and starts jotting down something on paper. "I recommend two weeks here for moderation purposes. If things look good, you finish the healing at home. Still, be careful though, no funny business."
The blank looks on both your faces tell Dr. Kim he wasn't clear enough. "Yah, my filters going to die with you two doe-eyed deer. No funny business means no sex!"
"Oh god!" You outburst, mortified by the thought. Jungkook whips his head to your slack-jawed expression. "Dr. Kim, it's not like that between us."
The older man suddenly zeros in on your professor, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's the matter son? Having trouble getting it up?"
Jungkook jolts in his seat, startled by the crass response. "I—no, what? There's nothing wrong with my—"
"We're not together!" You shout before Jungkook's sentence finishes. "We're friends." Saying that your professor brought you here sounded a little odd for some reason, especially when Dr. Kim was already convinced you two were a thing.
"Mhm sure, heard the same thing from my wife before we went off and eloped." Dr. Kim treads to the door. If he has a dime for how many times he's heard that "we're friends" bs he'd be...well, he's already rich so never mind. "Let's move on to something more productive now, like getting __ settled in a room. The sooner she starts the healing process, the sooner she can be good as new again."
"Thank you Dr. Kim," Jungkook says, slowly standing up to stroll you and your wheelchair out of the room. You didn't like it but the nurses insisted you be in one to keep pressure off your muscles.
"Yeah yeah." Dr. Kim waves him off. "Just remember what I said, no funny business. Especially here at the hospital. You don't know how many times I've heard the nurses catching their patients on top of one another at 2 am in the morning. That better not be you two, whoever you are to each other."
"Yes, doctor." You both reply, thankful of the fact that neither of you are in any position to be looking at each other.
"Is there any way I can be here for less than two weeks?" Jungkook watches as you plead with the nurse. It worries him that you're still anxious to avoid medical attention.
"I'm afraid not," the nurse says simply. "If you need anything, press the call button and I'll be in as soon as I can."
Once the nurse leaves, Jungkook pulls up a chair next to your bed. "Stupid question but how are you feeling?"
"I'm in an ankle brace, my rib burns, and my head is still dizzy. I'm trapped in the hospital for two weeks and all because a bunch of nineteen-year-old boys couldn't wait to hit up some frat party," you groan, not bearing in mind your tongue. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this Dr. Jeon."
"You didn't drag me into anything __. I'm glad I was there when this happened and I'm even more glad that you're here, getting help." Jungkook clears his throat before continuing. "Even if it isn't ideal for you."
You ignore the subtle pry for information. "Please, Dr. Jeon. You don't have to stay any longer. It's the weekend and I'm sure you have plans."
Jungkook gives a faint smile. "So, you're saying this is none of my business?"
"No, not—not at all. I mean if you want to stay then I guess you can but I don't want you to feel obligated or anything."
"I want to be here," Jungkook says simply. "But you know that's not what I meant. I'd like to know why it bothers you when anyone tries to help you...if I may."
"Just habit," you mumble quickly, averting eye-contact. It's not your professor's job to bear the weight of your problems.
Jungkook nods in reply, pretending you gave a satisfactory explanation. He wishes you'd tell him but if you didn't want to share more then that was your choice —he wasn't going to force you. "I understand." He grabs his phone from his pocket and rests his elbows on his knees. "Are you hungry?"
"Huh?" You look back at him, his question going right over your head.
"I asked if you're hungry. It's about dinner time so I can get you something if you want. I also have a bunch of milk in my trunk that needs to get to a fridge. But I can place the order now and pick it up in my way back here."
"Milk in your trunk?" Is the only words you repeat, dumbfounded. "Like chocolate milk or...?"
"Nah, Whole Milk." Jungkook grins at your scrunched up face. You try to hide it but not very well. "Don't look so disgusted. Milk is good for you."
"Yeah when you're ten years old."
"On the contrary!" You flinch when his voice rises, along with his eyebrows. "Milk has a lot of health benefits as adults. It has thirteen essential nutrients and helps maintain muscle and bone strength. I drink at least two full glasses a day, if not more."
"I'm sorry but that's nasty." You shudder at the thought of drinking milk in your twenties let alone your thirties. "You really enjoy it? The taste?"
"Yup, always have since a baby! Loved it so much that my mother-" You raise an eyebrow to which he abruptly switches topics. "Anyway, do you want me to pick you up something or no?"
You giggle, a little uncomfortable with whatever he was about to disclose to you.
"That's okay, no thanks."
"You sure? Otherwise I'm gonna be eating in front of you." Jungkook knows how this sounds — he's trying to force you to eat. But the truth is, he just doesn't want to eat by himself tonight. He also doesn't want to leave you alone this early, especially when you obviously detest being here, for whatever reason.
"I'm sure," you say. "But...if you want to come back you can. Not like I have anything to do anyway."
"Good then." Pleased, Jungkook opens up his phone contacts. "Give me you're number in case you change your mind while I'm out."
Over the next couple of weeks, Jungkook continues to stay by your side. He leaves to teach his classes of course and to go home late at night, but he stops by every day—hours at a time.
You keep insisting that he not come so much but he always makes the same excuses. "I just brought food" or "You're on my way home from the university". Sometimes he brings in class notes too.
Due to your current predicament, you're missing a lot of content so Jungkook thinks it best to go over key principles with you and takeaways from his lectures. He says it's his duty as a professor–never minding the fact that many of his other students are in a predicament of their own yet he’s not bothering to do jack for them.
"Look Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but you really don't have to. I'll be perfectly alright to catch myself up from the textbook and study guides. You don't have to keep stopping by." You try again but Jungkook keeps his wall just as strong as yours.
"I know I don't have to __. I know that I could leave right now, take all these lecture notes home with me, and not feel guilty about a thing. But I told you I was going to be here and I'm going to keep to that no matter how many times you urge me to leave. I also want you to call me Jungkook outside class but have you allowed for any of those to happen?" Jungkook tosses the folder of notes in his sachel, a loud thump following. "A simple thank you would suffice."
"I am grateful, I really am. But I never asked to be given so much of your time. I feel bad because maybe you're just one of those overly nice people who feel it's their duty to stick around or what not when someone's in trouble. I don't need to be pitied over! Also, you said I could keep calling you the usual, so Dr. Jeon it will remain!" Why you're raising your voice, you don't know but it's happening either way.
"Yeah I did," Jungkook quips, matching your tone. "But after the last, nearly two weeks I think we ought to be on a first-name basis! And I'm in no way pitying you okay? I'm here because I care dammit! I don't want you to be alone and I don't want you to be behind in getting your Masters. So I' try to be be here every day for at least fifteen minutes if not more!"
You don't fully process what he says so you reply to what you remember most. "Why? Why can't I call you Dr. Jeon? It's been that way from the start, twice every week. So why do I need to call you Jungkook all a sudden?!"
"Because it makes me feel younger, you insulted my milk after I first took you to the hospital, we've been eating dinner almost every night since your injury, you told me about your childhood cat named Mr. Muttonbottom, and you just called me by my first name so there are no take backs! Now, if you're done making a fit, do you want bibimbap or jajangmyeon for dinner tonight?!"
What the actual hell? You cease your arguing at once, hearing your professor, or excuse you, Jungkook, all fluffed up. Obviously, you're not the only one high-strung over being stuck in the same routine day in, day out.
"Jajangmyeon...please," you mutter.
"Thank fuck," he swears. Yeah that's new too.
"Sorry for getting mad earlier." You mumble the words as soon as Jungkook returns with the food. "It just feels odd that you've been here all the time...you're my professor."
Jungkook mauls over your choice of words, stiffening ever so slightly. "Well, I'd like to think we're sorta friends now but alright. Does this actually bother you __? I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, you know that." He places the bag of take-out on the small desk near your bed.
"No, it's doesn't bother me." you just don't know how to react or what to say besides a measly thank you. More so, you don't want to make someone feel responsible for you...you should take care of your own shit without bringing others with you. It's not the best mindset, you're aware, but its the one you have.
"Okay good because to be completely transparent, I'm sorta here for me too. I live my myself, eat by myself, talk to myself....I do most things alone so it's nice having someone else to be around." He's not sure where to set his eyes, so he looks downward, fumbling with the napkins in front of him. "I'm making this awkward, sorry."
Feeling the strange need to offer comfort, you stretch a hand over Jungkook's arm. "I get it. It's nice having someone around too."
You and Jungkook hold each other's gaze for a few seconds more, letting the brief silence do the rest of the talking. Maybe you've been looking at this a little too one-sided.
"How are you feeling today? Any better?" Jungkook cracks open the bowl of Jajangmyeon, handing it to you with a pair of chopsticks.
You take the steamy food and gesture to your ankle which has swollen down a good amount. "Still more healing to be done but it's better."
Jungkook hums in approval. "That's comforting to hear. Dr. Kim going to discharge you soon?"
"Yeah, I think so. A few more days and he said I should be able to rest up at home."
"Really?" He chews on his bottom lip. "Well great, uhm , do you have stuff going on when you get back?"
You think a moment, trying to recollect if you made plans with Na-Rae. "Maybe some but not much. I don't have a ton of people around me right now either...down here I mean."
"Well, do you wanna go out to dinner then?" Jungkook pops the question more causal than expected. It's almost like he planned this or at least has been thinking about it for a bit. "We've been eating together for a while now and I think it might be a nice celebratory thing."
"Are you asking me on a date...Jungkook?" Because it defiantly sounds like he is, as indirect as it may be.
His reply is barely audible but you hear it and for the first time, your professor sounds truly timid. "Uh, well...let's go with "hang out", like friends do."
A/N: so yeah, thats how they got together 👀😅 anyone surprised? Thinking about a drabble for thier first date now haha. Anyway, next chapter we get back to present day stuff where more drama goes down. Also, adding a chapter bc this flashback took the whole chapter lol. Lmk your thoughts 💞
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An Illicit Affair
Part Eight: The Morning After
Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)
Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity
On Thursday morning, right following a night of steamy passion and countless orgasms shared in that luxurious hotel room, you woke up to find Cillian spooning you from behind, his naked form clinging tightly to your back.
You glanced at the luminous numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table; it was just seven o'clock and you dosed back off to sleep for an hour longer, enjoying the warmth of his arms wrapped snugly around you. You relished in the fact that you had successfully managed to sidestep the path of normalcy.
Each of you had cleared your schedules for the day, planning to indulge in each other's company without any interruptions from the outside world.
Cillian had texted his agent last night, cancelling his interview with Vanity Fair, insisting that he needed some personal time following his son's accident and would be unavailable today. His agent understood, respecting that he too deserved space to breathe and experience some time off.
You, on the other hand, had sent a quick text message to Lucy explaining that you would be spending the next couple of days away from campus and, since you only had two lectures and no work scheduled until the weekend, she seemed to grasp the idea without pressing for further details.
By eight o'clock, the sun peeked through the curtains, casting shadows of light upon the wall-to-wall carpeted floors. You opened your eyes again slowly before turning around carefully to face Cillian who appeared to be still asleep.
You admired his features; the sculpted planes of his face, the small scar beneath his chin, the freckles that dotted his cheeks, and even the small patch of slightly greying hair covering his chest.
His hands rested on your hips, holding you close. The feel of his breath on your neck and shoulders was comforting and exciting.
Your heart raced at the thought of waking him up and starting another round of pleasure, but you resisted the urge, deciding instead to lie there, basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Seeing his greying hair and crow's feet around his eyes, you had always felt drawn to him, the fact that he was older exciting you tremendously.
Though you knew the dangers of playing with fire, you couldn't resist the flames dancing in your belly every time you looked at him. There was something incredibly enticing about him and it was not just lust you felt.
No, it was much more potent than sexual attraction. It was the realization that this man could challenge you, inspire you, and push you beyond your limits. In essence, he was the embodiment of everything you desired in a partner with just two small problems to consider. He was married to someone else, and he was your ex-boyfriend's father.
The two of you had crossed boundaries that society deemed taboo and irreversible. Yet, none of those concerns mattered to you right now as you looked at him in awe. He simply looked breathtaking, even more so than the first time you saw him and, as you finally ran your fingers through his grey hair, he stirred, opening his eyes groggily.
"Morning, beautiful," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead and wrapping his arms tighter around you. "You look gorgeous like this," he commented, his eyes roaming over your face hungrily.
"Like this?" you smiled shyly, turning your face into his caress.
"Yes, like this. So natural. No make up, just your flawless beauty," Cillian smiled, admiring you.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," you chuckled, your eyes lighting up at hearing Cillian's compliment. "But thank you," you added sincerely, and he leaned over to kiss you on the mouth, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips from the night you shared.
"I wish I could stay in this room with you like this forever," Cillian breathed against your mouth, his hands roving across your skin as he spoke.
"Me too," you whispered as his fingers lingered on your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine.
"You're absolutely stunning Y/N…" he murmured, looking intently at you and you were lost in his eyes.
They were mesmerizing and full of desire, longing, and a promise of things to come.
"You're not so bad yourself, Cillian…” you teased, kissing him lightly on the lips before rolling on top of him.
"In fact, I think that you are incredibly handsome," you continued, tracing your finger along his jawline before kissing along his neck.
"Don't stop there," Cillian murmured, his voice low and sultry, and a thrill coursed through you.
"Where should I continue?" you asked, arching an eyebrow suggestively.
"Downwards," Cillian breathed, reaching out to cup your cheek, his fingers trembling slightly.
You smiled and lowered your head, planting kisses along his neck again before working your way downwards.
The feel of his strong hands on your back guided you expertly as you moved lower, kissing and licking every inch of his torso.
"Tell me Cillian, where exactly do you want my lips," you whispered provocatively, pausing briefly to look up at him.
His breath hitched, his gaze intense as he stared down at you.
"On my cock," he rasped, the word hanging heavily between you.
You smirked, reaching down to grasp his naked shaft, already hard and throbbing.
"Really?" you challenged, biting your lip lightly.
"Oh yeah," he groaned, his erection growing harder and harder beneath your touch before tying back your hair with the elastic wrapped around your wrist.
You then flicked your tongue out, teasing the tip of his penis before sucking it into your mouth.
"Fuck!" he cursed softly, arching his back as you sucked him deeper, taking him all the way inside your hot, wet mouth. You swirled your tongue around his length, tasting him, enjoying the sensation of his cock pulsing in your hand as you worked it rhythmically.
"Ah, fuck yes," he gasped, thrusting upwards into your mouth, reveling in the fact that no one had made him feel like this before.
"You're incredible," he muttered breathlessly, his grip tightening on your hair. You paused, gazing up at him. "Keep going," he pleaded, his voice strained and desperate. You resumed your movements, bobbing your head faster as you took him deeper, swallowing him whole.
"I'm close," he groaned after about twenty minutes of you pleasuring him, bucking wildly underneath you as you massaged his balls firmly, drawing out his orgasm. With a final, forceful thrust, he exploded, filling your mouth with his seed. You swallowed greedily, lapping up every drop.
The taste was bitter, salty, and utterly erotic. A sense of power surged through you as you looked up at Cillian, his eyes wide with shock and satisfaction. "You're amazing," he murmured, his voice hoarse and raw but before you could continue your erotic adventure, Cillian's phone rang loudly.
He fumbled for it amongst the pillows, finally locating it under a rumpled sheet.
"Dermont," he croaked, clearing his throat nervously. "Hi, is everything alright?" he continued quietly, listening intently as his friend ought to confirm his whereabouts.
"You are staying at the Westin, aren't you?" Dermont asked while juggling two cups of coffee in his hands.
"Yes, why?" Cillian asked suspiciously, his tone shifting abruptly.
"I am standing downstairs, in the lobby, with two caffeinated beverages," Dermont responded cheerfully, ignoring Cillian's sharp change in demeanor. "I hope I am not disturbing anything?" he added innocently, earning a scowl from Cillian.
"No man” Cillian stammered. "Of course not," he lied smoothly, looking over his shoulder at you. "I didn't even know that you were coming to London," he then went on to say, trying to mask his surprise.
"I got in this morning," Dermont said. "Now, are you coming down or do you want me to come up to your room?" Dermont chimed, and Cillian let out a soft groan, glancing at you nervously. "Uh, no, don't come up," he stuttered, "I'll be down in a minute," he promised before disconnecting the call.
"Is everything okay?" you asked worriedly, sitting up on the edge of the bed while Cillian grabbed his clothes from the floor.
"Everything is fine," he tried to assure you, slipping his pants on hastily. "But I need to head off for ten minutes. A friend of mine is in the lobby," Cillian apologized, fastening his belt.
"It's fine. Seriously. I might have a bath and order some breakfast for us for when you come back" you suggested before pulling Cillian in for a quick kiss. "Don't take too long though. I am still aching for you," you teased, giving Cillian a flirtatious glance before heading to the bathroom while Cillian left the room to meet his friend.
Once Cillian was gone, you ordered two plates of eggs Benedict alongside fresh fruit salad and a side of crispy bacon. Satisfied with your selection, you then indulged in a leisurely soak in the tub, letting the warm water wash away the tension from your muscles while Cillian caught up with his best friend Dermont.
"Hey man," Dermont greeted him with a wide grin, handing him a steaming cup of coffee. "I heard about Max," he said earnestly, concern etched onto his face. "How is he doing?" he asked, and Cillian inhaled deeply before responding.
"He's good, considering the circumstances," Cillian stated flatly, forcing a smile. "The doctors expect him to make a full recovery, which is all that matters," he then assured Dermont, his voice cracking slightly. "Thanks for checking in. I appreciate it," he then uttered, grateful for such genuine support.
"How are you holding up?" Dermont asked, concerned for his friend. "You seem distracted," he noted, peering at Cillian closely who was looking at his watch. "No, I am good. I have a meeting at nine and will have to get ready..." Cillian began to say just as one of the hotel staff members came to seek him out, recognizing him in the lobby amongst a handful of people.
"Mr Murphy, your wife ordered some breakfast, but I am afraid that we are out of the cold pressed juices she selected," the staff member explained, causing Cillian to blush with emberassment.
"Just orange juice is fine," he quickly answered while Dermont looked at him sideways with raised eyebrows.
"Your wife, huh?" Dermont repeated, narrowing his eyes at Cillian. "Are you sure you are okay?" he asked, watching his friend closely. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" Dermont urged, setting his coffee on the nearby table.
"Yeah, thanks," Cillian nodded, picking up his own coffee cup. "I'm fine, Derm. Just...preoccupied," he clarified, taking a sip. "With work, mostly," he added, crossing his arms over his chest.
"And Danielle?" Dermont asked. "I know that she is back in Dublin, looking after Max, which makes me wonder..." Dermont questioned cautiously, scrutinizing Cillian closely, and before Dermont could finish his question, Cillian told him that he wasn't staying in his hotel room alone.
"I am seeing someone," Cillian blurted out quietly, his face reddening in embarrassment. Dermont stared dumbfounded at Cillian, unable to believe what he had just heard.
"You are having an affair?" Dermont exclaimed shocked, his eyes widening. "Are you mad?" he asked incredulously, raising a brow before sipping his coffee thoughtfully. "Who is she?"
"I can't tell you man," Cillian replied nervously, avoiding eye contact with Dermont who was quick to reassure his friend that his secrets would be safe with him.
"Look, if you don't want to talk about it, that's cool," Dermont said sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on Cillian's shoulder. "But if you ever need anyone to confide in, just reach out to me," Dermont promised, his voice filled with warmth and understanding. "I mean, I know you've been dealing with a lot lately..." Dermont trailed off, his words hitting a nerve with Cillian who decided to confide in his best friend.
"Her name is Y/N and she used to date my son," Cillian revealed hesitantly, fearing the judgment he might receive from Dermont.
"Wait, what?" Dermont exclaimed, his eyes bugging out in disbelief. "The med student? The one we met at your house a few months back?" Dermont remembered, the shock evident on his face. "I didn't realize you guys..." Dermont trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief. "Jesus, Cil, how did this happen?" he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.
"It was a complete accident," Cillian explained defensively, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "We ran into each other in London not so long ago. We had a few drinks and one thing led to another," Cillian confessed, averting his gaze. "I know it sounds crazy, but we just fell into it," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking helplessly at Dermont.
Dermont studied Cillian closely, a storm brewing inside his head. "Didn't you feel awkward? Or guilty?" he asked, his voice stern and disapproving. "I mean, your son has been dating the same girl you are currently involved with?" Dermont asked, struggling to wrap his head around this bombshell revelation.
"A little at first," Cillian admitted, squirming in his seat at the memory. "But I feel so fucking alive when I'm with her," he confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She's so different from Danielle - so spontaneous, so wild yet mature beyond her years," Cillian gushed, a reverential note creeping into his voice. "There's nothing like this, Derm," he insisted, gripping the armrests of his chair tightly. "I never imagined that I would feel this intensely again," he confessed, his voice breaking slightly.
Dermont sat silently across from Cillian, absorbing his words while studying his friend's expression closely.
He noticed the way Cillian's Adam's apple bobbed nervously, the way his eyes darted around as if searching for escape. Dermont could tell that Cillian was genuinely torn apart by his feelings for you, yet scared to fully embrace them.
"How many times have you seen her?" Dermont probed gently, studying Cillian's tormented expression. "Twice," Cillian mumbled reluctantly, his voice cracking slightly. "I swear, Derm, it just happened," Cillian declared earnestly, his eyes pleading for understanding.
"You know you can't hold up an affair like this. You will get caught eventuelly," Dermont warned, studying Cillian's anguished expression. "I don't know if I can advise you on this matter, Cil," Dermont sighed, rapping his knuckles on the table. "But whatever you decide, please consider the consequences thoroughly," Dermont advised, his voice grave and sombre. "Because once this news gets out, it will cause havoc, and people will suffer," Dermont predicted gravely, staring straight into Cillian's eyes.
"You're not just hurting Danielle here, you're also affecting the entire family," Dermont reminded him, sensing Cillian's indecision.
"I know," Cillian whispered miserably, feeling like a failure. "I should end it with Y/N, right?" he sighed, contemplating his predicament. "But I can't. I really care about her, Derm and my marriage has been falling apart for quite some time now," Cillian whispered miserably, wringing his hands nervously. "What am I supposed to do?" he pleaded, seeking advice from his best friend.
"Maybe you should try talking to Danielle," Dermont suggested tentatively, watching Cillian closely. "Have you tried?" he asked, recalling how detached they had seemed during their last visit together.
"Not really," Cillian admitted guiltily, lowering his gaze. "Things between Danielle and me haven't been great and you know that," he confessed, squirming in his seat. "I have been unhappy for years," he admitted, his voice dropping to a painful whisper.
"Like I said, I don't know what the answer is man, but do you really want to throw away 20 years of marriage for a fling with a woman half your age?" Dermont asked, knowing the impact of his words and, somehow, they resonated with Cillian.
"I suppose I owe it to myself and our relationship to at least attempt to communicate with Danielle," Cillian agreed, nodding slowly. He knew deep down that Dermont was right. He couldn't live with himself if he threw away twenty years of marriage for a fleeting affair and he knew that ending it with you would be the only way to possibly save what he had built for so long.
To be continued...
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#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x you
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Negotiations
a/n: This is Day 2! So sorry it's late, I was hospitalised over the weekend which put me behind! I'm working hard to catch up hehe
Pairing: Ambessa Medarda x Fem!Reader
Prompt: Write a scene without any dialogue
Warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, public sex, alcohol drinking, slight dom-sub vibes, mentions of violence, mention of blood
Summary: Ambessa hates negotiating, no matter how important it is for her rule. Perhaps she will make herself some entertainment to find it more enjoyable...
Word Count: 1.1k
18+ | MEN AND MINORS DNI | 18+
You know Ambessa finds these meetings the most tedious part of ruling over Noxus. She finds little meaning or use in negotiations, far more used to greeting political rivals and ambitious warlords with her sword at their throat than breaking bread with them. It is a preposterous notion to her, attempting to appease her perceived enemies. As she presides over the emissaries and nobles at the head of the table, you know she is listening keenly, identifying weakness, and sniffing out any hidden agendas. Noxian custom is steeped in violence, and there was a time that Ambessa would be demanding fealty or these peoples’ heads.
But things are different for her now. Now, her daughter Mel has agreed to remain in contact with her and visit Noxus more often with her consort, Jayce. Ambessa can breathe easier knowing that rebuilding the bridge between herself, and her daughter will secure her legacy and ensure that a Medarda inherits the throne upon Ambessa’s death.
She has you now. Seated to her right, close by so she can always see you. Her consort, the love she never thought she’d find again. You’ve dressed yourself in a scarlet red ensemble tonight, complete with a gold medallion belt accentuating your hips. Red and gold, her favourite colours. The colours of war and victory. Conquest. You’ve already caught her more than once tonight, her eyes raking down your figure, her eyes hungry and her tongue darting out to wet her lips. When your eyes meet, she flashes you a fanged smile, no doubt envisioning the many ways she will take you when this insufferable night is over.
You’re drawn to one of the visiting emissaries booming laughter as he gulps down wine and flirts boisterously with the serving girls as they refill his plate and his cup. You try to suppress your smile as you take in Ambessa’s disgust, knowing she’d want nothing more than to pick up the lout like a ragdoll and smash him into the ornate mahogany dining table, likely shattering it in the process.
The image sends an unexpected but not entirely unwelcome rush of heat between your legs. You squeeze your thighs as you imagine her leering down at the man, twitching as blood leaks from his head and then turns to you with her signature smirk. The very same smirk that ushered you into her bed three years ago, at another function where Ambessa was more interested in the wine selection than the purpose of the gathering. The scandal had rocked the court of Noxus, their esteemed leader engaging in an ill-advised relationship with a younger woman, and the daughter of an insignificant noble. She had silenced their doubts in her usual way, with threats of broken bones and removed tongues.
At first, you were convinced that she wanted only for your body, the way she tasted and marked your flesh during your visits bruising you with carnal possession. She was a tornado of fire, and you were blessed to be at the heart of the inferno. Countless nights you found yourself in awe of her, in awe of your luck. Nights spent with shaking legs, dripping with sweat and your own release as she made you scream her name for her over and over again. She was never satisfied with hearing your desperate pleas and devoted prayers to her only once. You never feared her, and knew she would never hurt you, not unless you asked her to.
But she soon proved to you that she wanted more, much more, than what your body could give her. She wanted you by her side always, listening to her stories of long-forgotten battles on distant shores, showing off your new dresses, massaging away her troubles in the bathhouse. She had fallen hard for you, an unexpected light leading her out of the darkness.
You’re startled out of your reminiscing by a hand creeping up your dress, invited in by the high riding slit at the thigh. You gulp as Ambessa’s face remains completely impassive as she sips at her wine, but you don’t miss the quick glance she sends your way, and you know exactly what she’s trying to say.
Be quiet. Don’t move. And enjoy.
Her hand climbs higher, and you hear her try in vain to supress the deep rumbling groan that threatens to emanate from her throat when she finds no underwear to stop her advance. You’re already wet from your earlier fantasising, and your clit is throbbing, begging for her attention. As she drags calloused fingers through your folds, you grit your teeth and grip the table tightly. You’re in for a ride, and regardless of the social setting, Ambessa will expect you to take what she gives you.
She wastes no time in gathering the slick pooling from you, coating her fingers before she pushes one inside. Her fingers are thick, and no matter how used to the stretch you’ve become, you relish in the burn as your pussy eagerly welcomes her inside. Your knuckles are white with how hard you’re holding on and you’re fighting to keep your breathing even, lest one of your guests suspect something’s wrong. Ambessa would hate to be interrupted.
She’s adding a second finger, smirking into her wine as she can feel you tighten around her. You can feel the pressure mounting in your belly, your entire body aching for release. You shoot her a pleading look and feel her curl her fingers in response. You start to see spots at the edge of your vision as she brings you closer and closer, all while engaging in dull conversation. Gods, you were going to make her pay for this later. Her thumb is pressing roughly against your clit in swift, calculated circles, you can feel her determination to send you tumbling over the edge. Soon enough, you are doing just that, but you’re hurtling not simply falling. Your orgasm hits you like a searing meteorite, burning through you with force and it takes all of your self-control not to cry out, biting down on your lip so hard you draw blood. You cover it up quickly by taking a sip of wine, dabbing at your mouth with your napkin and glaring at Ambessa reproachfully. She takes no notice, leaning back in her chair with a self-satisfied grin.
Shaking your head, you try to reintegrate yourself into the conversation, though none of it holds your interest. Instead, you find yourself consumed by thoughts of your handsome warrior, trailing over each scar you can see and thinking fondly of all the ones you cannot but know intimately. You will reward her mischief with a soothing massage and relaxing oils tonight, it’s been far too long since you’ve caressed her bulging muscles. But you will deny her the taste of your flesh until she begs, a fitting punishment for tonight’s shenanigans. After all, no matter what the nobles of Noxus or the visiting emissaries of foreign lands may think, no matter how imposing Ambessa may appear, you know that there is only person she will fall to her knees for. Tonight, you will make her remember why.
#my writing#arcane fanfic#lesbian#arcane#ambessa medarda#ambessa x reader#smut#female reader#fem reader#writing challenge#arcane ambessa#fanfic#dom/sub#no dialogue#slight blood
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8 Days of Christmas — Baby, It’s Cold Outside
pairing: agent whiskey x f!reader
rating: E (18+ ONLY, jack being jack, alcohol consumption, oral sex (m receiving), daddy kink obviously, dom!jack, cock grinding? idk, riding, creampie)
word count: 2.2k
8 Days of Christmas Masterlist
It was a long, cold day at the slopes, Jack having spent the better half of the day trying to teach you the basics of skiing which, more often than not, ended up with you landing flat on your ass. You may have found the day irritating if it hadn’t been for the amount of hearty, full-bellied laughs your clumsiness had pulled from your usually reserved boyfriend.
Now, with a sore ass and sore cheeks from smiling, you and Jack made your way back to the private cabin he’d rented out for the weekend. The two of you had a busy year, only seeing each other at night and on the weekends, except for when Jack was called on by the Statesmen. Both of you deeply craved some time alone together, uninterrupted by the demands of your busy careers, and what better place than in the middle of the snowy woods during Christmas, when everyone was too busy with family to bother you?
“I think my ass is gonna be ice cold and sore for the next week,” you groaned as you finally made it inside the cabin, Jack quick to turn the heater on while you kicked off your snow boots. “Gonna have to take it easy on me tonight.”
“Oh, is that so, sugar?” He chuckled, walking to you in the entryway, his arms wrapping around your waist as he looked down at you with that winning smile of his.
“Mmhm,” you grinned up at him, holding his face in your hands. “You’re not gonna get overeager and start throwing me around like you like to do?”
“Only if you beg,” he winked, leaning down to give you a sweet peck. “How ‘bout you head your fine ass into the bathtub while I whip up some supper?”
“You gonna bring me a glass of wine, too?” Jack playfully rolled his eyes before nodding.
“Of course. Whatever the queen demands.” You leaned up on your toes to give him another peck on the lips, this time letting it linger long enough to earn a hum from your cowboy. “Alright, sugar. Don’t get me all worked up if you ain’t plannin’ on deliverin’.”
“I always deliver, don’t I?” you asked with a smirk, pulling away from him to head off towards the master suite. Jack slapped your ass as you walked past him, earning a hiss and a scolding glare. “Watch it, cowboy.”
“Oh, believe me, I am, darlin’.” He made a point to eye your ass through you snowsuit, making you laugh and shake your head as you left him for the warmth of the bathtub.
One glass of wine later, and you were sat on Jack’s lap at the dinner table, the two of you too needy to sit in your separate seats while you ate. He lifted his fork to your lips, feeding you a piece of perfectly cooked steak before doing the same for himself. You hummed at the taste of his cooking and shook your head.
“I have no clue where you learned to cook so well,” you started as you took a sip of your new glass of wine. “Another woman perhaps?”
“Yep.” You scoffed, swatting his stomach playfully. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout my damn mama, sugar. No need to get jealous.”
“When it comes to you, there’s every need to get jealous. Where else am I gonna find a man that looks this good, treats me like a queen, and fucks me like a slut?” Jack’s eyes widened at your words, chuckling as he lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips.
“That wine gettin’ to ya?” You shrugged, playing coy. “What do you say we take this party over to the fireplace, hm? Get cozy?”
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Jack walked you over to the sofa, ordering you to “sit your pretty ass down” while he lit the fireplace. You grinned into your wine glass as you watched him bend over, the grey of his flannel pajama pants showcasing his adorable ass while the white of his perfectly form-fitting t-shirt stretched over the expanse of his broad shoulders. Feeling impatient, you uncrossed your legs and slid the hem of your silk nightgown up to your hips, your fingers running up and down your lace-covered slit as he turned around.
“My, my…what a sight,” he praised as he stalked over to you with a winning smile on. “Gettin’ started without me, sugar?”
“Just getting warmed up,” you replied in a pure, tugging him closer by the waistband of his pants. Jack was grinning as he watched you sit up a bit, your eyes locked on his as you undid the tie around his waist, your hands then smoothing over his thighs, purposely avoiding the growing tent in his pants.
“You gonna play with me all night?” he questioned, reaching to smooth his fingertips over your jawline. You shook your head, smirking at him as you brought one hand to his bulge, stroking him through the fabric. Jack let out a soft moan and bucked his hips into your open palm, his head falling back as he allowed you to tease him to full hardness. “Jesus, darlin…”
“Can I take these off?” You lightly tugged on his pants, earning his gaze again. Jack nodded eagerly, pinching your chin before watching you shimmy his pants down until his cock was springing free, the leaking, purple tip hitting your lips. You giggled at the attack and gripped him at his base, staring up into his eyes as you pumped him against your puckered lips. “Mm, you’re teasing me but you’re just as worked up from your whiskey.”
“It ain’t the whiskey, it’s just you, sugar,” he assured, combing your hair back. “Now why don’t you go ahead and have a taste?”
You smiled before sticking your tongue out and flattening it, tapping his thick head against it just to watch his brows crease.
“C’mon, don’t tease,” he begged in a rasp that went straight to your clit. Wrapping your lips around him, you sucked just the head into your mouth, earning a deep growl from your cowboy, his fingers tangling in your hair. “That’s good, baby…keep goin’ just like that.”
You couldn’t help the whine you let out from his praise, sucking him deeper into your mouth until you were kissing your fist wrapped around his girth. Jack’s moans were now given freely, his hand in the back of your head guiding your movements as you bobbed on him, working your throat up to taking him all the way.
“Baby girl,” he cooed, his lips formed in an ‘o’ as he watched you, his head tilted to admire your good work. “That mouth is heaven and hell all in one.”
You pulled him out of your mouth just to smile, spit stringing grin your lips to the head of his cock. Jack couldn’t resist bending down to kiss it away, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you. You hummed against him and pulled him closer by his neck, Jack willingly following you onto the sofa. He rested between your open thighs as you laid all the way back, his hands running over the silk of the nightgown he’d bought you last Christmas.
“As much as I love the sight of you in this number, I’m gonna need you to take it off for me,” he husked as his thumb brushed over your nipple, causing your back to arch into his touch. Jack stripped while you peeled your nightgown off and tossed it onto the floor, leaving you only in your red lace thong, his eyes turning black with lust as he took you in. “Look at you sprawled out like a damn pinup.”
“You gonna touch me or just keep looking?” you purred, spreading your thighs for him. Jack’s jaw ticked as he watched you slip the lace to the side, exposing the glistening sheen of your pussy.
“You’re a damn gift to mankind, sugar.” He laid on his stomach, his head resting on your thigh as his mouth remained just an inch from your pussy, his fingers stroking through your slick. “And all mine, right?”
“All yours,” you confirmed with a grin. “Why don’t you go ahead and taste my pussy, daddy?”
“Your pussy?” He questioned with a quirk of his brows. “C’mon, sugar. Whose pussy is this?”
You grinned mischievously, biting your lip. “Mine.”
“Oh, is that so?” He chuckled and kissed your thigh. “Maybe I need to remind you? Or…maybe the best way to remind you is by doin’ nothin’ at all.” He sat back on his ankles, crossing his arms over his chest. You frowned at the absence of his body heat, watching as he raised an eyebrow at you in challenge. “Go on. If it’s your pussy, why don’t you make yourself cum.”
“Jack,” you pouted, sitting up and crawling to him, straddling his lap. “It’s your pussy.”
“Yeah?” He watched as you rocked your hips against his cock, sandwiching it between your pussy and his belly. “I don’t think you deserve my mouth yet, sugar. Not after that.”
“Please?” You stuck out your bottom lip and earned a half-smirk, his hands coming to rest on your hips to guide your movements.
“Get yourself off like this and then I’ll give you my mouth, baby girl,” he ordered and you eagerly obeyed, rocking your hips against the underside of his cock, your clit catching deliciously on his fat tip. “Yes, baby…just like that.”
“Fuck,” you whined, brows furrowed as you looked down at the slick now coating his cock as you worked yourself up to your first climax. “Can I put it inside, daddy?”
“Thought you wanted my mouth, sweet thing?” He chuckled and cupped your face with one hand.
“I want your cock,” you pled, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster through your pleasure. Jack cooed at you, stroking his thumb over your bottom lip. “Please, I’m so close. Want you inside me when I cum.”
“Alright, sugar,” he nodded, pulling your face closer so that he could press his lips against yours. “Go ahead and take it. Take what you need.”
You shivered as you guided his cock into your heat, both of you gasping against one another as you fully sheathed him in your wetness.
“Jesus,” he growled, his hands now gripping your hips as he guided you on him. “That’s fuckin’ good, baby. Riding me so good.”
“Jack,” you moaned, tipping your head back as his cock brushed against your inner bundle of nerves.
“Need my fingers, baby?” He asked sweetly, bringing his lips to the base of your throat. You nodded quickly, nails clawing at his shoulders. Jack smiled against your skin, seemingly pleased with your eagerness as he brought to fingers to your clit, stroking perfectly pressured circles against it.
You shivered with a moan as your high started to slowly trickle through your every nerve, radiating from where he was connected to you to the very tips of your toes and fingers. “Oh, fuck, Jack, baby…god.”
“There ya go…sweet thing,” he cooed, laying you back against the sofa and bringing his body to hover over yours. He ran his hand over your cheek and admired you like you were the most delicate thing he’d ever see. “Ready for one more, sugar?”
“Fuck, yes please,” your hands cradled his neck and jaw as his thrusts turned sharp, hips snapping harshly into yours while he kept his eyes locked on you. “Jack, I love you…fuck, I love you.”
“I love you, too, pretty thing,” he promised, giving you a sweet kiss that was the total opposite of the thrusts he was giving you. “God damn…you’re squeezing me so tight I can hardly pull out.”
You did nothing but mewl, your eyes squeezing shut as he hit that spot inside of you that blurred your consciousness, his shit-eating grin going unseen by you as he watched your face contort with pleasure.
“That it, huh? That’s the spot?” You nodded quickly, not wanting to give him any reason to stop. “Look at me when I make you cum, sugar. I wanna see those pretty eyes.”
“Oh, god, baby,” you mewled, your face scrunched up as though you were in pain but you were deep in bliss as your second high dawned upon you, Jack’s grin widening somehow as you looked him in the eye. “Jack, I’m—“
“I know, I can feel it, baby girl,” he chuckled and leaned in, kissing your chin. “Gonna fill you up now, that alright? If I fuck you full of me, sugar?”
“Yes! Fuck!” You writhed for him as you came, chest heaving and eyes squeezing shut to rise out the waves while Jack’s thrusts turned animalistic, his growls and moans filling the room like your favorite song.
“Oh, shit, baby,” he groaned, pressing his cock as far inside you as you’d take him. You opened your eyes in time to feel his cock pulse inside of you, Jack’s eyes screwed shut, his brows creased, his bottom lip pouted as he let out a string of moans and curses, his hands roaming over your stomach and hips for purchase.
“That was so good,” you praised, raking your fingers through his dark hair. Jack chuckled, finally coming back to earth. He let his weight fall on top of you, hugging you into the plush sectional and remaining inside you.
“I gotta get you wine-drunk more often, sugar.”
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50 intimacy building exercises for black couples ❤️🔥
1. Take a long walk together for the sole purpose of sharing your thoughts and feelings with each other.
2. Plan a surprise date night in for one another.
3. Cook a meal together and enjoy it by candlelight.
4. Write love letters to each other, bonus points if you exchange and read them.
5. Take a couple’s dance class together.
6. Read an erotic novel together. Reenacting it is up to you!
7. Volunteer together for a cause you both care about.
8. Make time to shower together, let your partner cleanse you.
9. Go on a weekend getaway and spend quality time in bed.
10. Take a bubble bath and enjoy wine.
11. Watch your favorite movies and cuddle.
12. Take a hike and enjoy nature together.
13. Write down your goals and dreams together, affirm each other in the process.
14. Take a cooking class together.
15. Try a new hobby together.
16. Plan a picnic to enjoy each other's company.
17. Schedule a couples' massage or self care day.
18. Create a vision board for your future together.
19. Take a pottery class together.
20. Spend a day exploring your city and discovering new places.
21. Invest in a polaroid or film camera and take spicy photos of each other.
22. Write a poem or song for each other.
23. Plan a surprise weekend getaway.
24. Create a couple’s board game to play together.
25. Go on a road trip to explore new places together.
26. Plan a sip and paint night together. Grab some body paint, and use each other as canvases!
27. Attend a concert or live performance together.
28. Create a language for only you to use together.
29. Go on a bike ride together.
30. Watch the sunset and enjoy each other's company.
31. Play a couples' trivia game.
32. Attend a wine tasting together.
33. Create a recipe together.
34. Plan a date night at home and cook a romantic dinner together.
35. Attend a drive-in movie together.
36. Visit a botanical garden.
37. Go on a cabin trip and disconnect from technology.
38. Take a hot air balloon ride together.
39. Attend a poetry night together.
40. Go on a boat ride and enjoy the water.
41. Take a couples' pole dancing class.
42. Have a game night with other couples.
43. Try meditating together.
44. Attend a book reading or signing together.
45. Go on a couple’s retreat.
46. Bake each other’s favorite sweets.
47. Create a playlist and swap headphones.
48. Take a mixology class together.
49. Plan a scavenger hunt for each other.
50. Go on a day trip to a nearby town.
#black tumblr#sexy#black couples#black love#black beauty#black is beautiful#black couple#melaninpoppin#black women luxury#curvy women
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#1. NEYMAR: Bitter taste
SUMMARY: You and Neymar have been dating for only a few months when there were rumours about you being on vacation with your ex.
WARNINGS: angst
PAIRING: Neymar x female reader
Neymars POV:
Impossible. This can't be real. She would never do that. She loves me. I kept looking at the pictures and videos Y/N's ex posted on instagram a few days ago. She told me she'd be on vacation with her mother, but seemingly my fans knew better. They found recent pictures of her and her ex in Malta. I couldn't take my eyes off those pictures and stories. Pictures and videos of them at the beach together, clubbing, hugging, even kissing. Of course these images went viral instantly. Everyone was talking about how the "former playboy" Neymar Jr. got cheated on himself this time. Some people called it my karma, saying I deserved it. Others wished Y/N death in the comment section. But me? I felt nothing, pure emptiness. No emotions, no feelings. No sadness, no anger, nothing. Looking at her in these photos, I couldn't even recognize her as the woman I loved so much. She seemed so different. Her facial expressions, her gestures, her whole behavior. Who is she? Have I been really giving my all to someone I didn't actually know at the end of the day?
"Sinto muito irmão", Cris, one of my closest friends, texted me [I'm very sorry, bro]. Obviously he heard about the news already. I didn't even have the power or nerve to respond.
I was sitting outside on the terrace. It was about 8pm and Y/N was supposed to get here in about two hours. In those eight months we were together we have never been apart from each other for so long. We always managed to at least see each other at the weekends. Now she has been gone for three weeks and to be honest, I didn't even want her to come back. Thinking about how jealous she always used to be, how scared she was of losing me, and now it was her I saw in the arms of someone else.
I walked around the apartment, trying to find something to distract myself. The bottle of red wine I planned to drink with Y/N tonight caught my eye finally. Sinking into the couch I opened the bottle and couldn't stop myself from taking one sip after another. My family and friends called and texted me non-stop, reaching out to make sure I was alright, but I didn't want to talk to anyone. I switched my phone off and continued gazing at the TV that wasn't even on. All I saw was my reflection, sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine in my hands. Like a damn fool.
Soon enough, the second bottle was opened and I started feeling a little tipsy. No, I can't be here when she arrives. I can not stand looking or talking to her now. "Hey Kylian, what's up? Wanna go out tonight?", I called him after switching on my phone again, ignoring all the messages and missed calls. "Do you really think it’s a good idea to go out clubbing? Y/N will be there soon, you should probably talk it out", he replied.
"This is exactly what I don’t want and need. I've been sitting here overthinking it all for hours now. I need some distraction." It was clear to me that Kylian wasn't thrilled, but in the end, he agreed to get some drinks with me.
Y/Ns POV:
I could barely hold back a squeal of happiness the moment I opened the door to Neymars house. Three weeks without him felt like a year to me. I never thought I would miss someone so much.
Why are all the lights turned off? Weird. I expected him to wait for me, but didn't think of anything bad as I assumed he probably fell asleep on the couch, but no, he didn't. The only thing I saw were two empty bottles of red wine and a third one open. I laughed to myself "He really couldn’t wait and got drunk before I even arrived, hm?" Being sure that he already dozed off in the bedroom, I entered quietly, only to find the room empty. I slowly started worrying. Where the hell was he? What was going on? Is this another one of his stupid pranks? I tried to switch on my phone to see if he texted me anything, but the battery was dead. As I was looking for a charger, I noticed a little note at the side of my bed and picked it up.
I hope you had a great vacation with (your ex's name). Pack your stuff and be gone by tomorrow morning.
What the fuck? Where did this come from? My heart was racing, I started panicking. "Come on, come on, come on", I said as I tried to turn on my phone once more. A sigh of relief escaped my lips when I finally was able to type in my code. I tried calling Neymar, but as expected, he didn't pick up. After the probably 7th call I decided to check if he posted something on his instagram story, revealing where he would be or what he was doing. He didn’t post anything, but Kylian did. He was out with Neymar, in some kind of club. Suddenly I got a text from my best friend. "Uhm, why is (your ex's name) posting pictures of you two together? Aren’t these old?" What did he do? I knew he never liked seeing Neymar and me together, but making up rumours?! For what? Did he really think I'd go back to him after he tried to destroy my relationship?
I searched (your ex's name) up on instagram and was in shock. He indeed posted pictures and videos of us together in Malta from a year ago. I scrolled through the comments. Some people were making of Neymar, saying he deserved to get played after everything he has allegedly done to women. But most of them wished me death, stating they expected me to cheat, I am so fake, I never loved Neymar but his money and fame only.
The tears started rolling down my cheeks as I sat down on the bed. How could he ever think I would actually cheat on him? Didn’t I show how much I loved him? Wasn’t I doing enough for him and our relationship? Glancing at the note he wrote once more, I shook my head. I wouldn’t just leave him like this. Not for some stupid cheating rumours.
Neymars POV:
I decided to spend the night at Kylians house, giving Y/N the opportunity to leave before I'd get home. Normally, going out with friends and drinking always distracted me for at least a few hours, but it didn’t help me at all last night. Quite the opposite even. My eyes were still red and puffy from all the crying. My throat was burning due to the amount of alcohol I drank.
Entering the house I could still smell her fragrance. I took a deep breath, knowing this was the last time I would be "that" close to her. Looking around I realised there really wasn’t any of her belongings, meaning she most probably read the note and left like I told her to. "Oh shit", I whispered to myself as I entered the living room, seeing the bottles of wine that left a disgusting smell. As a consequence of the heavy drinking from last night, I couldn’t stand to smell any form of alcohol, so I decided to spend some minutes on the terrace. To my surprise, the door stood open. I stepped out and saw Y/N sitting on the bench, drinking coffee. "What are you doing here?", I harshly asked, "I told you to leave by the morning."
"And you really think I would just leave you like that?" Her eyes were as red and puffy as mine. She looked like she hasn’t slept the whole night. My heart would actually break seeing her cry, especially knowing I was the reason, but this time I didn't even care. "Well, you really should since I fucking told you to." The tears in her eyes were forming again as she looked away from me. "Have you at least packed your bags?", I asked her. She shook her head from left to right. "Then I'm going to do it for you", I said going inside.
"Neymar", Y/N shouted following me. I opened the door to her closet and started taking her stuff out. "Can you at least hear me out? I just want to explain it all to you." I looked at her in disbelief and laughed sarcastically. "I don't need an explanation. Everything I need to know, I saw."
"But it isn’t true Neymar, I didn’t cheat on you." I let out an annoyed moan. "You want to tell me these pictures are photoshopped? You met him by accident and then decided to spend your vacation with him so you wouldn’t get bored with your mom? Honestly, just drop it. I don’t wanna hear shit from you." Watching her breaking down in tears made me swallow very hard, but I couldn’t give in, not after her cheating on me with her ex. "The pictures and videos he posted are old. It was on his birthday, last year."
"Mhm, and it’s just a coincidence you've been there on his birthday again right?"
"Actually, yes. You know he lives there. The year I've been with him I was there all the time. I even thought of moving there. Trust me, I don't give a damn about him anymore. I just fell in love with the island." We remained silent for a moment, while I continued to throw her belongings into a random suitcase I found. "I don't know how to prove it to you, Ney. I deleted all those pictures as soon as we got together. I can’t even show you they’re old." No response from me. "He always wanted to tear us apart because he knew you were the real reason I left him."
"Congratulations to him. He succeeded", I coldly replied. She took out her phone and started scrolling, "Here." From the corner of my eye, I saw her holding her phone up. "Y/N, I don't want to see anything. I don't even care anymore. We're done."
"But this is undeniable proof that he is lying", her voice got louder, which made me raise an eyebrow at her. "Undenibale proof you say, huh?" I took the phone out of her hand and saw her instagram story archive. The same pictures and videos he posted a few days ago. My heart stopped for a second when I saw the date. Over a year ago. Not even able to look at her, I handed her her phone back. I couldn’t say a word, I felt so stupid. "But if you wish for me to leave, I will", she broke the silence, ripping her stuff out of my hand, "I just wanted to let you know that I would never cheat on you and if you still decide to go separate ways, it’s okay. Just please know that I really do love you and could never do anything to hurt you." I watched her filling the suitcase with her clothes. "And for your future relationships, you should really consider talking to your girlfriend first before leaving her without even giving her a chance to explain herself", she somehow managed to say inbetween her sobs. "Y/N, baby…" I softly hugged her from behind and turned her around. She buried her face in my chest and started crying even harder. "I'm so sorry. I can’t believe I even thought you would do that to me. He just made everything seem so legit and real." We just stood there, no one saying a word until she calmed down a little. "I love you Neymar, I love you so much. How could you even believe it for a second?" she spoke up.
"I didn’t at first, but… what would you think? I knew you were actually there and all of a sudden these photos appear on his instagram. And it’s not even a year ago that you broke up with him. I was scared you could possibly go back." Y/N finally looked up, staring right into my eyes. "I love you, you idiot", she said before pecking my lips quickly. "I love you too." I wiped away her tears with my thumb. "How about we'll take a nap, order food later and watch some movies? I think none of us really slept this night." She yawned as she nodded. "Sounds good to me."
#Neymar#neymar imagine#neymar imagines#kylian mbappe#kylian mbappe imagine#kylian mbappe imagines#football imagine#football imagines#neymar fanfic#neymar jr imagine#Neymar jr x reader#Neymar x reader#Neymar jr#Neymar da silva santos junior#imagine#imagines
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