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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 months

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Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say.

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you.

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them.

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was.

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for.

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up.

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with;

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway.

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that.

But he still had questions.

Unanswered questions.

Like who the hell were you?

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again.

In the kitchens.

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad.

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies.

And somehow

It was relaxing to him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you.

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.”

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers.

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove.

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink.

And he did.

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out.

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea.

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy.

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish.

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear.

Then he jerked up.

With a grunt, he looked around him.

He was in his room.

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen.

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination.

The Professor’s office.

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm.

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?”

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office.

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him.

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door.

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had.

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you.

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with.

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you.

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things.

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears.

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence.

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it.

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness.

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again.

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep.

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it.

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt.

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did.

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you.

More so, when he saw your shoulder.

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up.

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night.

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked.

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet.

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked.

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it.

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa.

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas.

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed.

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor.

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

Fast asleep.

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you.

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point.

Hell, even he needed sleep.

But you were just constantly forever going.

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second.

You were fast asleep.

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while.

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision.

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up.

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again.

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for.

A heavy blanket.

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace.

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered.

He turned around but you were still.

Then you whimpered again.

“No,” you whispered.

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again.

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away.

Except you reached out for his hand.

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep.

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream.

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out.

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room.

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor.

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him.

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly.

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching.

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?”

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened.

And glowed.

They were still your eyes just…brighter.

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again.

Then everything stopped.

Everything went silent.

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved.

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,”

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare.

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face.

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him.

“Logan,” you breathed.

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling.

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest.

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand.

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged.

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed.

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever.

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget.

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going.

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed.

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile.

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands.

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him.

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile.

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him.

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea.

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist.

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing.

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months.

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room.

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed.

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him.

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time.

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter.

Because Logan already knew.

And so did you.

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him.

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avocado-writing · 2 months

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little horny Logan x reader thing. set after the events of deadpool + wolverine. may turn this into something longer one day

tw: alcoholism, AA meetings

rating: explicit

You are two broken people attempting to piece each other back together.

It feels like a fruitless task sometimes; a Sisyphean boulder, both of you trying to rebuild a heart which has been shattered so many times it can hardly hold love any more.

But then there are those moments that shine through. You ask him not to smoke, he puts his cigar away. You stop off at the corner store to grab a six-pack, he reminds you that you just got your one year token.

You met him at AA of course, he was the new guy who had his walls up, you were the old-timer of the group who kept trying not to relapse. Alchohol had taken a lot from you and you didn’t want to let it take any more. Pushing back against it felt impossible but hey, one step at a time.

Those groups, tucked away in a church basement - buried in the ground as if to, ironically, avert the eyes of god - were your lifeline for a long while.

After trying to strike up conversation with him, you assumed he hated you. Maybe he was just that brisk with everyone, never sharing at meetings or sticking around to talk after. But then one night he found you about to go into a bar because you were so fucking stressed and a glass of whiskey sounded so so good, and all gruffness and flannel he’d managed to talk you out of it. He’d bought you a coffee and managed to wring out of you that your landlord was pressuring you for money you didn’t have, and you’d rather spend your last twenty dollars on something which made you feel good than try and meet a rent which kept skyrocketing.

Logan had looked at you, levelly, and told you he’d speak to the guy for you.

You got a text the next day from your landlord to say that your rent wouldn’t be increasing and, actually, would be going down considerably instead.

And it was the start of… something. Something strange and fragile, but it was there. You walked his roommates’s dog with him, the weirdest little fucking thing you’d ever seen but quite affectionate despite her bug-eyes and lolling tongue, and Logan was the softest you’d ever seen him when he carried her in his arms when she plopped down on the sidewalk and refused to move any more.

He fell off the wagon a lot, but that was okay. Recovery wasn’t a straight line, that was something you knew all too well. He was a struggling man and he was trying. To attempt to keep him away from the bottle you’d invite him round practically every night to watch a movie. Action flicks, sappy romances, stupid comedies, the two of you got through them all, and every night you got closer and closer on your beaten-up old couch until he finally fucking kissed you.

He pulled you into his lap and you felt him get hard in a way which suggested he hadn’t been this close to someone for a long time. His tongue was hot, his hands rough, and you palmed him through his jeans until he came like the two of you were teenagers messing around for the first time.

You were worried afterwards that you’d scared him off by being too forward, but you got a text asking if you were on for a movie that night.

It got to the start of the second act before it was forgotten about entirely, your jeans thrown over the end table where you kept the popcorn as he fucked you with his mouth. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled until he grunted in satisfaction. Afterwards, his lips and beard were glistening with you. You tasted your orgasm on his tongue as you kissed.

The night after, you were on your knees between his thighs, his cock buried in your throat and his grip practically tearing your pillows to shreds.

“You can grab onto me, you know,” you’d whispered, spit dripping down your chin, slightly concerned for your sofa’s upholstery. Logan had stared at you like you’d hung the fucking stars.

“Yeah, fuck. Okay, baby.”

He dragged you up and down the length of him, fingers against your scalp, and he came so hard that you couldn’t swallow it all.

Things just… progressed.

It wasn’t perfect. The two of you were finding your feet again in a confusing and hostile world. But you had each other, and that was a hell of a lot more than most people had. When you fucked, when you felt him slide inside you in a way which made you feel more full than you ever had before, the way his whispered your name like a little prayer and you were his god, all of it… just fucking perfect.

But the best part was always after. When you were in the hazy glow, cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily at the comfort of having you pressed up at his side.

Well.

You made each other’s worlds brighter.

#my writing #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu x-men #logan #wolverine fanfiction #mcu fandom

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eddiernunson · 10 months

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"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it. His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him. Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

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muddyorbsblr · 9 months

Text

onyx pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You're stuck in the Avengers Compound because of an injury from your last mission, and you come across an adorable and affectionate little kitten.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language (no i'm not sorry, Rogers); talks of explosions and injuries sustained from explosion [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: one-sided crushing (but is it really…?)

An eerie silence served as your only company in the Avengers Compound the last few days, some of your teammates off to finish the HYDRA mission that left you injured while the others took time off to visit their families over the holidays. With the promise to keep their comms on in case they would be needed until the New Year.

Now all that remained in the Compound with you were a few junior agents that drew the ends of the short stick, Val, and Loki.

Sadly your teammate, friend, and occasional drinking buddy Val was out blissfully spreading holiday cheer throughout New York with her girlfriend.

And Loki? Well, the God of Mischief wasn't exactly on chummy terms with you. Didn't even so much as give you a passing glance when you were at mission briefings.

Which was a damn shame because what you would give just to get lost in those stormy ocean eyes.

You made your way to the pantry in the common room to replenish your stash of snacks, towing along a little wagon to help you on the way back. Every step had you feeling every square inch of bruising on the left side of your body that you got from being unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius of an explosion at the HYDRA base you were trying to infiltrate with Shaun just a few days ago.

Your phone buzzed with a new message. "Speak of the devil," you muttered to yourself, seeing Xu's name on your screen as soon as you pulled up next to the elaborate barista setup, putting a few Lindor truffles in a small bag for your wagon. "Hey FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Agent Y/L/N?" the AI answered immediately.

"Could you make me a white chocolate mocha with peppermint while I raid the latest Costco delivery for uhh…supplies. Yeah, I'll go with that."

"Right away, Agent Y/L/N." The sound of the barista setup whirring to life filled the kitchen area as you checked on Shaun's message.

Thor just mentioned that he'll ask his brother to take a look at your injuries. Maybe get him to kiss it all better. He finished his text with a smirking emoji, along with some hand gestures that painted a less than family friendly picture, making you roll your eyes at the screen.

You recorded a voice memo for him. "You know that he'd need to actually be willing to look at me so that he could see the damage from the blast, right? And last I checked I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm Medusa reincarnated and I'll turn his Asgardian ass to stone."

You went on to the ridiculously stocked pantry to rummage the delivery that came just a few hours ago, trying to find a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos somewhere in the mix, when you heard a tiny meow from somewhere behind you. You looked to the ground to find a black and white munchkin cat looking up at you with wide blue eyes.

"Hi there, baby…" you cooed, surprised the adorable little creature hadn't hissed or scratched at you yet. Cats normally didn't take to you, which was a shame because you often found yourself fighting the urge to pick one up or stroke its head whenever you crossed paths with one during your errand runs. "How'd you get in here?"

The tiny kitten caught you by surprise with what it did next, walking up to your feet and proceeding to rub its cheek against your ankle, a little purr emanating from its small fluffy body. You decided to risk the hissing and scratching and bent down to pick it up, your heart melting once he placed his paws on your cheek and proceeded to nuzzle your face with his nose.

"Aren't you a complete darling." He settled into your arm as you carried him out of the pantry, a little whine escaping him when you placed him down on the counter. He stood on his hind legs and made grabby hands towards you, blue eyes wide and pleading for you to pick him back up. "Just a second, sweet baby, I'm just getting you something to drink."

You took out a tiny sauce dish and poured some cream into it, pushing it toward the kitten that responded with a slow blink and a meow before licking away at the rich liquid.

"I'm sure your owner's gonna crucify me for giving you that but I can't help spoiling little fur babies especially when they're as adorable as you are." You took a sip of the coffee FRIDAY had finished making before shouting out a question for her. "Hey FRIDAY, you have any clue who this little bub belongs to?"

It took a second for her to answer. "Negative, Agent Y/L/N. There is currently no other agent on the premises looking for their pet. I also see no collar on them and from a preliminary scan they do not seem to have a microchip on them."

Those words stopped the kitten from drinking to look up toward the ceiling and hiss at the source of the voice. He only relaxed once you started stroking his fur again, going back to drinking and letting out a few purrs along the way. "No owner, huh? Does that mean I can invoke Finders Keepers then?"

"It appears so, Agent Y/L/N. What would be your new companion's name?"

The kitten looked up at you, as if expecting your answer. You wondered briefly if he could actually understand what it was that you and FRIDAY were talking about. "How about Onyx? I know I know it's absolute garbage for originality to name a black cat after a black gemstone but--"

His eyes widened before he climbed up your arm, only stopping once he'd reached your shoulder to nuzzle at your neck again. "It seems he likes the name, Agent Y/L/N."

"Then it's settled." You placed a soft kiss on top of his head. "Hello there, Onyx."

You brought your new kitten back to your apartment, setting him down on your bed while you tried to take off your sweatshirt as gently as you could manage.

"Ah, fuck it," you hissed as you felt the bruising around your ribs, letting out a pained sound when you opted to whip the garment over your head as fast as you could instead. Your reflection revealed that the bruising on the left side of your torso was quickly becoming a frightening deep purple.

Onyx meowed from your bed, again standing on his back legs and making grabby hands at you, eyes wide with evident pain.

"What's wrong, little baby?" He placed his paws gently on your side when you made your way to him, pressing his nose to the skin near where your bruising began. "Oh don't you worry your pretty little head about those, sweetie. They'll heal…eventually."

He kept on pressing his face to the area, your heart melting for the tiny kitten even more realizing that he was pressing kisses to your wounds.

"You really are such a precious little bub, aren't you?" You picked your new kitten up, placing him on the armchair in your reading nook before setting an alarm for dinner in a few hours and settling into your bed. "Get some sleep, sweet baby Onyx. I'll see you in a few hours."

Your eyes had only closed for a few seconds before you heard another tiny meow followed by a soft thud, immediately making you sit up on the bed looking for the kitten. He'd already made his way to your bedside, standing on his back legs and reaching up trying to climb up the sheets.

"Alrighty then," you mumbled, picking him up and placing him on the pillow beside yours. You rolled over to lay on your right side to remove any pressure to your injuries the best you could, hovering your finger near Onyx's nose once you'd settled in. He leaned up and pressed his nose to your finger, paws kneading on his pillow. "Boop," you giggled. "Sweet dreams, baby."

Just as you'd closed your eyes to try catching an hour or two of rest before you had to eat again and take those pain meds that Banner prescribed you, your phone began to blare Immigrant Song way too loudly by your nightstand. There were only two contacts you gave that ringtone to and one of them was currently out with her girlfriend.

"Talk to me, Thunder," you muttered, groaning when your stretch to reach for your phone made your bruising smart a bit. "You all good over there?"

"Absolutely grand, Lady Y/N," the blond god's voice boomed from the other end. "I was just wondering if you could check on my brother, he refuses to answer his phone yet again."

"That's gonna be a hard pass from me, buddy. I've already been cut and bruised, I'm not too keen to add stabbed to that list. He's probably just practicing spells. Or out on a date." You winced at that last part, an irrational part of you flaring up with unwarranted jealousy at the thought of Loki out with just about anyone. "Just--I don't know, check up on him yourself when you get back. You can take a stab better than me anyways."

Thor sighed loudly, the low rumbling making Onyx step back from his pillow and start hissing at the phone. You stroked the top of his head to calm him down. "Very well then, Lady Y/N. Rest well. We're scheduled to return after nightfall."

"I'll have pizza here waiting for you guys. Bring your own mead." You clicked off and tried to get some sleep, having FRIDAY place an order for pizzas and wings for when the team gets back. Your new kitten padded his way over to you, resting his head on your outstretched arm and letting out a soft purr.

The sound of the Quinjet coming back roused you from your nap, along with the feel of little paws on your arm and Onyx nuzzling your cheek.

"Looks like everyone's home," you mumbled, pressing a few kisses to the kitten's head before making your way out of bed. "Come on, little baby. Time to meet the team."

With a whole lot of discomfort and groaning, you slipped your sweatshirt back on before presenting your hand to Onyx and patting your shoulder, prompting the kitten to climb up your arm and perch himself on the spot, nuzzling his face behind your ear.

The team had already arrived and filled the common area when you made your way there, some of them helping themselves to the pizza. Barnes and Wilson walked in with coolers, probably filled with chilled bottles of beer inside.

"Hey, there she is!" Shaun exclaimed, pulling out a bottle of Pepsi before making his way over to you and pulling you into an embrace. "How's the healing go--Whoa there." He took a step back as Onyx hissed in his direction. "Where'd you come from, little guy?"

You shh'd the kitten, pressing kisses to his little cheek to calm him down. "It's okay, baby, Shaun is a friend. One of the good guys." You turned back to your mission partner. "Shaun, this is Onyx."

"Always thought you were a dog person, Babes," Natasha spoke up before taking your arm and walking you to the food. "We leave for one day and you become a cat lady. Where'd you even find the time to go to a shelter and get baby blue eyes over here?"

"I didn't, actually," you answered the master assassin. "I just went to the pantry and poof there he was, meowing at my feet. Like the cat distribution system mailed him to me by magic or something." He nuzzled your cheek again before starting to knead at your face.

"And he doesn't belong to anyone? You're sure?" Shaun spoke up, backing up immediately when he tried to pet your new kitten and getting hissed at. "Easy, kitty. I'm a friend, I'm not gonna hurt you." The martial artist turned back to you. "He wasn't collared? Or chipped?"

"Nope. FRIDAY scanned him and everything."

"You wanna think about getting him chipped?"

Onyx hissed again at the question before swishing his tail around to curtain your hair around him, his little body shaking on your shoulder. As if he was silently pleading for you to not take him out to have him chipped.

"Don't you worry, baby. I won't get you chipped, I wouldn't hurt you like that," you cooed, letting out a little giggle as he placed his paws on your cheeks and nuzzled your nose, giving the tip tiny licks. You were so focused on your cat's affections that the bellowing of Thor looking for his brother was a distant muffled noise in the background.

Until he got to where you were standing and his booming voice was impossible to ignore. "What an adorable little beast you have, with you, Lady Y/N." Onyx buried himself in the crook of your neck, shaking at the sound of Thor's voice.

"It's alright, Onyx. It's just Thunder, he may be all big and menacing on the outside but he's just a fluff ball on the inside. Come on, go say hi."

The blond Asgardian approached you, examining your new pet carefully before a knowing grin graced his bearded face. "Hello, Brother."

A chill went down your spine at his words. "What the fuck d'you just say, Blondie?"

He motioned toward the kitten on your shoulder. "This is the explanation for his lack of replies on his phone. His absence from his quarters. Lady Y/N, the little beast hiding himself in your hair…is my brother. That is Loki."

In your stupor, the only words you could manage to say were, "Bitch what?!"

A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to the members of SAS, beloved besties, and fellow whores! I've had this idea doing a slow lurky crawl in the microwave that is my writing noggin for the last few months, and I'm so excited that I finally get to share it with y'all! Part 2 is coming in a few days, and then it's a coin toss on whether I'll be trying to end the year with crossing off some things on my writing todo list, or crossing off some titles from my Tumblr TBR 😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #muddyorbs writes

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itsallgoodmann · 2 months

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I'm going to act like I did not sob throughout the entirety of writing this story holy shit.

"Charles Knew that Love Existed Because Arthur was Love"

Desc: Arthur tells Charles about his condition and they both slowly realize they care a lot more about each other than they originally thought. Apparently loss can really strengthen emotions, especially unresolved ones.

(Heavily implied Charthur, comfort, angst, death, grief, mutual confession of love...You get the idea. Inspired by the fanart above (not mine obvs!))

"Hey Charles," Arthur sat down on the crate next to Charles, overlooking the main campfire. Charles gently rubbed gun oil on his sawed-off shotgun, thinking quietly to himself, like he always did.

"Arthur." Charles nodded at Arthur, glancing at him quickly before looking back at his gun. Arthur put his hands in his lap, clasped together tightly. He closed his eyes briefly, trying his best to gather his thoughts. He had known Charles for less than a year, but somehow Arthur felt more connected to him than Dutch.

Arthur didn't want to tell him. In fact, Arthur couldn't think of a thing he wanted to do less than tell Charles the truth...

Because he was dying. Famous gunslinger Arthur Morgan, taken by a goddamn lung disease. How ironic. Charles deserved to know, he had been so kind to Arthur. Arthur remembered the weeks after the O'Driscolls had kidnapped and shot him, and who stayed by his wagon the longest.

Not Dutch, not John, not even Hosea.

Charles.

"You shouldn't get up," Charles said bluntly, staring into Arthur's blue eyes, glazed over in a Morphine-filled daze. Arthur shook his head like he did every time someone told him not to do something. It didn't stop him from hoisting himself up so his head rested on the back of the wagon. Charles just shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"Swanson's Morphine is certainly doing its job," Charles muttered, mostly to himself, Arthur scoffed in return.

"Why you here anyways?" Arthur took a deep breath and tried not to wince at the stitches from the gunshot wound in his abdomen. Charles chuckled, a lighthearted noise that made Arthur smile...Even if it was mostly because of the Morphine.

"Just, watching... Got nothing better to do." Charles shrugged his shoulders and continued sharpening his knife next to Arthur's wagon.

"I think in the time you've been with us-" Arthur took a moment to think about what he was going to say, his words slightly slurred from the drugs.

"I've never heard you speak more than two sentences to anyone." Arthur shook his head, smiling. Charles rolled his eyes.

"I just don't have much to say, I guess." Charles shook his head, but couldn't help the smile that graced his face.

"Charles...Smith... The lone wolf... A man of few words." Arthur put his hands up and made a gesture like he was reading a newspaper headline.

"If I knew you were going to act like an idiot I wouldn't have given you the Morphine." Charles shot back, but he didn't take any offense. How could someone take offense to the ramblings of a Morphine drunk Arthur? Arthur acted like he had been shot (very fitting), giving Charles an exasperated look.

"The lone wolf does speak!" He said dramatically, drawling out the 'does' to annoy Charles even more.

"You should sleep Arthur," Charles finally said, putting away the knife and other sharpening materials.

"Y'know..." Arthur yawned, the euphoric sensation of the Morphine and the drowsiness that healing cost was really getting to him.

"I'm quite fond of you, Mr.Serious." Arthur slurred, moving his head down to the pillow and looking up. Charles studied Arthur's expression, trying to read his true emotions. Arthur's eyebrows were relaxed, his lips upturned in a lazy smile. He could see the crow's feet that appeared next to his eyes, and the scar that was on the bottom of his chin. Charles meant to ask about it, but never did.

"You've always been the hardest worker in camp," Arthur yawned again, and Charles shushed him.

"Go to sleep Arthur, for god's sake."

"Somethin' on your mind?" Charles' deep voice brought Arthur out of his thoughts, and Arthur nodded. Charles looked at him, narrowing his eyes a little bit. Charles must have had an inkling of what Arthur wanted to speak about. He was quiet, but he wasn't stupid. At this point, no one could deny Arthur looked sick...Real sick. His collarbones were sticking out from his pale splotchy skin, his clothes were now bagged around him. His eyes were bloodshot, and when he ate there was a large coughing fit that followed.

The cough. It made Charles' ears ring, the violent shake of his chest, the crackled wheezes that followed. Charles saw the bloodstains on the inside of Arthur's sleeve.

"You wanna ride with me?" Arthur blurted out, Charles took a second but nodded.

"Always." He said curtly. Charles walked with Arthur over to his horse, before he mounted Taima. Arthur led the way to the outskirts of Annesburg, before riding aimlessly towards the mountains surrounding the Wapiti Indian Reservation.

"Yer a smart man Charles," Arthur started, taking in short breaths, thinking hard about how to word things. This did nothing but make Charles nervous.

"Arthur," Charles said in almost a warning, like he was afraid Arthur was going to beat around the bush and never get to the point. Charles didn't like it when people weren't straightforward. However, Arthur was the only exception to this rule. The only noises that accompanied them through the ride were the clopping of hooves on rock, and the rushing of water from the nearby Dakota River.

"If things go bad, you get yourself out of there, alright?" Arthur coughed but tried to stifle it, which only made it worse.

Charles wanted to get off his horse and punch Arthur in the face. Not because he was angry at Arthur...

But because he was scared. Charles Smith, the fearless lone wolf. It wasn't like Charles hadn't experienced loss before, hell, in the last few months it was constant... Davey, Sean, Kieran, Hosea, Lenny, Molly... Charles was sad, of course, but life went on. The sun still shone the next day, the coffee was still brewed like normal, and the songbirds still chirped their melodies.

"You got... More to lose." Arthur said, his voice softer, more vulnerable. Charles shook his head, immediately shooting back,

"No. Come on. Don't start talking like that." It was obvious though, even when Arthur explained it.

"I didn't tell you before," Arthur took in a wheezing breath.

"I saw a doctor."

Charles wanted to jump into the Dakota River and feel his entire body go numb from the cold. He wanted to push his hands to his ears and hum until he couldn't hear Arthur's words anymore because they cut like a knife. They made him bleed like no one had ever done before. Instead, Charles gripped the reins of Taima tighter, slowing down to a gentle trot.

"It's pretty bad, and it's gonna get worse."

Charles shook his head, but luckily Arthur didn't notice. He bit his lip and tried to make sense of it all.

"Take a left down this trail," Charles said softly, pointing to the slightly worn trail into the thick woods of the Cumberland forest. Charles led Arthur to a clearing, where a thick, lush layer of grass grew, and flowers erupted from the space.

"I don't remember much of my childhood," Charles said, dismounting his horse and motioning for Arthur to do the same. Arthur followed Charles into the clearing and they both sat down on a fallen log, covered in bright green moss.

"My mama though, she taught me all about the herbs..." Charles smiled gently, then motioned to the flowers. Arthur looked at him, confused.

"These are flowers..." Arthur corrected, Charles just shook his head and chuckled.

"She taught me about the flowers too, if you'd let me finish." Charles pointed to the flower with stems that held a few dozen tiny bundles of red flowers, with a bright yellow center.

"Blood flower," Charles said, Arthur nodded, listening intently. Charles then pointed at the other flower that covered the clearing, a stem that held a single, cupped, red flower.

"Field Poppy," Charles informed, Arthur could have probably guessed that, but just hearing Charles talk was enough. There were a few minutes of comfortable silence, the horses quietly grazing near them.

"Did the doctor say how long?" Charles was careful with his words, but he wanted...No, needed to know.

"A couple weeks, a couple months..." Arthur drawled, coughing again. This time the fit was so bad Arthur wheezed for breath afterward. Charles rubbed Arthur's back, hoping the contact would soothe something, even if it was just his soul.

"You're a good man, Arthur Morgan." Charles forced through gritted teeth, afraid if he said more he would have to wipe tears off his face. Arthur chuckled.

"I ain't a good man,"

Charles frowned, if only Arthur could see himself through Charles' gaze. The way he glowed, Arthur's soft smile and kind words. He acted tough, but he loved. Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, promising himself he wasn't going to break down.

"I'm only going to say this once, Arthur," Charles warned.

"You're one of the best men I know." Charles smiled bittersweetly like it should be obvious to Arthur.

"You're kind, hard-working, loyal, and smart." Charles removed his hand from Arthur's back, before resting it on his shoulder.

"Hell, you've probably saved my life countless times." Charles sighed, then made eye contact with Arthur. What a horrible choice. Icy blue eyes, bloodshot and tearstained, inflamed with the pain of the human condition. Charles stared back at Arthur with warm brown eyes, trying to keep his equanimity. He was normally very good at it, a skill he prided himself on, but this was different. At that moment, in the clearing, Charles realized something.

He was soft for Arthur Morgan. He wanted to see Arthur happy, he wanted to see him thrive. It took everything in Charles not to scream about how he loved Arthur Morgan... And, more importantly, how much he loved the way Arthur loved. Freely and fully. Arthur rarely shared by the campfire, but when he did it was always a story about saving a man who got bitten by a snake, or a woman who was stranded because her horse died.

"Yer' a good man Charles, one of the best." Arthur choked out, now trying to keep his own composure. Charles just smiled, it was all he could do. But Charles broke when Arthur made eye contact with him again, his face wet with the streams of hot tears that poured down his cheeks. It was instinct as he opened his arms for Arthur, hugging him tightly. In a useless wish, Charles thought about how he regretted not doing this earlier. Arthur clung to Charles and Charles clung just as much back. Arthur wrapped his arms around Charles, burying his head into Charles' chest. In a swift movement, Charles gently brought his hand up to the back of Arthur's head, his other arm wrapped securely around him. They both sat there for a good while, breathing in the scent of each other and trying to memorize the way their bodies fit so perfectly together.

"Shouldn't leave things unsaid, should I?" Arthur finally said, breaking the silence. Charles nodded, still holding Arthur close to his chest.

"Then I think I love you, Charles." Charles wasn't going to debate what exactly Arthur meant by this. Charles didn't care. He loved him back.

"I think I love you too, Arthur," Charles murmured, now gently carding his fingers through Arthur's hair.

"I always imagined you were a Bison," Arthur muttered softly, Charles nodded.

"Dutch told me I was like a buck... Unlikely friends." Arthur chuckled, but it ended in a painful cough that Charles tried his best to soothe.

"You think we'll meet in another life?" Arthur looked up at the sky, it was now dusk, and the stars were beginning to appear. Charles nodded,

"I hope so." Arthur smiled at the response, a real nice smile.

"Then I'll look forward to meeting you all over again." Arthur was always the best at bringing out even the most buried emotions. Charles froze, trying not to lose it. He didn't want Arthur to go. He can't let go. He was never able to let go, everything he ever lost is covered in claw marks from when he tried to make it stay. Charles choked back a sob, gently lifting Arthur's head to place a tender kiss on his forehead. Arthur's blue eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, every decision Arthur ever made had spun through his mind, all leading up to this one single exchange. Perhaps death wasn't going to be that bad. Charles brought both of his hands and cupped Arthur's jaw, looking at him, trying to memorize the face.

Charles knew that love existed because Arthur was love.

That's why, when Charles carried the limp, cold, body of Arthur Morgan down that mountain, one arm around his torso, the other around his leg, he made sure to stop by that clearing. He uprooted those flowers and planted them on his grave. It was the least he could do.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for Righteousness."

A/N- Woah! First fanfic on this account! Last time I regularly wrote fanfiction was when I was sixteen (I am in my twenties now). Couldn't get Charthur out of my head so I created this (it got very out of hand very fast). Unfortunately, I do not apologize for the amount of heartbreak this may cause you.

If you would like to leave a request, go for it! I am a full time college student, and I do work two jobs, so there's no telling if I'll ever get to it, but if it's a good enough request I'm sure I'll make time. It's weird to be so familiar yet unfamiliar with creating a fanfic post, but alas, I'll stop yapping. Hope you enjoyed the fic!

Fanart used can be found here, credit to conconarts!

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catscraftsandcommentary · 6 days

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Okay, continuing the idea from this post... (Basically, that the witchers from each school can shift into the animal that their school is named after, but also get some comical/cute traits of that animal.)

The mages didn't intend to create shapeshifters originally, they were mostly just fooling around and seeing what would happen. (With real children, yes they are horrible people.) But then someone found a combination of chaos and genetics that allowed a subject to shapeshift into an animal under certain circumstances. So they went "hey, what else can we do with this?" and on the testing went.

Eventually they thought to send their new experiments up against actual monsters and realized that they had the potential for a magnificent warrior...or minion. Same thing.

Over time, they realized some drawbacks:

The new creatures - dubbed "witchers" and further divided by which creature they could shift into - would first shift into a baby of their species. Not terribly useful.

As the witcher grew in age and chaos ability, so did their animal form...and never seemed to STOP growing. (There was a long argument over whether this was beneficial or not.)

When terribly wounded, the witcher would often change into their animal form, seeming unable to control the change until they healed most of their wounds.

Shifted witchers required both food and magical energy to sustain themselves and their abilities. This made them ferocious against chaos-fueled monsters, as they could absorb the chaos from those they killed, but proved a weakness if they absorbed less chaos than they needed to heal the wounds they had taken.

The full moon, which raised the ambient level of chaos in the world, would force a shift unless the witcher had impeccable control. Even then, it was so-so.

Once shifted, the animal instincts easily overpowered the witcher's conscious mind - at least until they had long practice in controlling themselves. Young cats got the zoomies and old ones took long naps. Wolves played. Vipers sunned themselves. Bears foraged for food or - if it was cold - hibernated.

The mages attempted creating a female bear ONCE. It proved to be their downfall - mama bears do not suffer threats to their cubs.

Now please imagine:

Teeny tiny wolf cubs chasing each other around the training grounds, biting each other's tails and tripping over their new paws.

Master trainers scruffing them and carrying them in an elbow or over a shoulder, while the tiny puppy tail wagged uncontrollably. Teaching them what their new bodies could do, with the teacher the size of a wagon and the students not yet knee high.

Puppies trying to scratch an itch and slowly tipping over.

Adult witchers shifting and cuddling with the students, carrying several on their back.

Ivar, oldest and most powerful of the vipers, is as large as a barn and can hold his entire school in his coiled form - and can swallow most monsters whole.

Vesemir is the size of a shed, and Geralt (twice grassed) and Eskel (incredible chaos) are not much smaller. Lambert is a perfectly normal size, thank you very much...he just looks tiny next to them.

Clothing, armor, and weapons which are crafted from the remains of chaos-fueled monsters (ie, they are inherently magical) CAN shapeshift with the witcher. Mundane items (cotton or wool, iron and plain steel) cannot. They lose more knives that way...

Young witchers learning how to harvest, process, and use various monster bits so they don't shift, shift back, and end up naked or in ruined clothing. (Yes, even the THREAD used to sew the clothing together must come from monsters. It's a pain.)

An old witcher taking the time to relax in their shifted form in the woods and being mistaken for a monster, so a nearby town hires a SECOND witcher to hunt them...bonus points if the second witcher is a friend or lover of the first, who came looking for them. Just walking into a clearing going "really? You know that town is going crazy over a huge monster that's moved in, and here I find you lying around."

(It's Ivar and Keldar. Ivar just laughs. "I ate the only monster last week, while I waited for you." And then he snatches Keldar up and wraps him in his coils.)

@everything-but-the-not-natural I know you were excited about this AU!

#the witcher #shapeshifting #witchers as shapeshifters #witchers as werewolves

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sabersandsnipers · 1 year

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A Stray on the Road

Author’s Note: I work with a lot of the pediatric population as a nurse, so I thought about what Halsin and Astarion’s reactions would be to me having to protect and take care of every kid I find lol

The day was grueling. The sticky sensation of blood covers every inch of your skin. Aches and pains rattle your bones, and the road seems endless as your group searches for a good place to set up camp. The only thought keeping you going is that of curling up between Astarion and Halsin later.

“Gods, this is hell,” Karlach complains.

Wyll responds with some snide comment, but you’re only half listening, because you’re approaching a rather violent scene. Wagons are tipped over, and bodies litter the road. You slow as you approach, noticing a small figure sitting by a pair of bodies.

Your gaze sharpens, and you see it’s a young girl. No older than 5. Tears stream down her cheeks as she sits by a pair of dead bodies. Your heart sinks as you realize it’s probably her parents.

“Hang back, guys,” you say. You fear the approach of such a large group will frighten her. Attempting to wipe the blood off your face, you walk up to the girl.

Her clothes are tattered, and you notice she has a few cuts lining her arms and legs. You crouch next to her.

“Hey,” you say softly.

Big beautiful brown eyes meet yours. Something twists in your chest.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

She sniffles. “Eowyn.”

“Eowyn, do you have family nearby?”

She shakes her head. “No. And I don’t know where I am.”

Her voice trembles, and your heart breaks for her. You look back to your companions. Most won’t mind her staying with them, except for Astarion, who will be annoyed by the young presence.Your friends look back at you expectantly, wondering what your next move is.

“Would you like to stay with me and my friends for the night?” you ask her.

She looks to the group behind you, and you half expect her to run away in fear with how harsh they look.

But her expression doesn’t change, she simply nods her head.

“Do you think you can walk?” you ask her.

She shakes her head.

You smile at her. “That’s okay. Halsin?”

The elf approaches. Eowyn stares up at him, eyes wide.

“Is it alright if my friend carries you?” you ask her.

She nods. “He’s so tall.” Her eyes are filled with wonder.

“He is,” you say with a chuckle. You look to Halsin and he nods. He reaches down and picks up the child, placing her on his shoulder.

“Hold on, child,” he says. There’s a slight smile on her face, but then darkness fills her eyes again.

Your group ventures forth once more. The sun is beginning to set, casting shadows along the road. But you can’t help but admire the beautiful colors streaking across the sky.

Astarion falls into step beside you. “Picked up another stray, I see.”

You nudge your shoulder against him. “You were a stray once too.”

He gives a half smile. “I’m just worried you’re going to burden yourself with her safety.”

You let out a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t like her presence. “She has no one, Astarion.”

He doesn’t say anymore, but you can feel the tenseness between you two. Your relationship is still being navigated. But even with your difference in values, you couldn’t stop yourselves from being drawn to each other.

A giggle pulls you from your thoughts. You look back to see Eowyn playing with Halsin’s braids. He’s grinning back at her, thoroughly enjoying her laughs. The sight sparks a warmth within you, and you can’t stop the smile from growing on your lips.

“Ugh.” Astarion comments. “Does he always have to be so…Halsin?”

You shoot him a half hearted glare. Despite him being agreeable to Halsin joining your relationship, he always seems taken aback by his general goodness and willingness to help others.

Your trek continues, Astarion allowing your hands to brush ever so slightly as you walk the dusty road.

The fire crackles as Karlach throws more wood onto the flames. A warm stew has been shared amongst your group, Eowyn getting a healthy portion. Conversations scatter around, commenting on the latest tavern you stopped at, or how a fight went along the way.

You sit on a log between Eowyn and Halsin, but Astarion sits over by his tent. He’s reading one of his books, sipping on some wine.

Every time you glance to Eowyn, you notice her watching Astarion. Her gaze is curious, and she seems completely enthralled with him. Not that you can blame her. You’re completely enthralled as well.

“He’s so beautiful,” she suddenly comments. You smile at her and then look at your love.

“Isn’t he?” you respond. “He’s awfully nice too, to the people he likes.”

“I saw you kissing earlier. Are you married?” she asks.

You laugh. “No, but I do love him very much.”

Confusion crosses her face, as if she can’t comprehend how you can be in love but not married. She takes another bite of her stew. Her eyes flicker back to Astarion.

A few minutes later she taps you on the shoulder. You turn away from your conversation with Halsin as she leans over to you.

“Do you think he would read me a bedtime story?” she asks in a whisper.

You grin, and glance at Astarion. Although he would most definitely deny her request, he can’t deny you.

“Yes. You should go over and ask. Tell him I sent you.”

Her expression brightens. She gets right up and makes her way over to Astarion, who doesn’t acknowledge her until she’s standing right in front of him. He finally looks up, his expression mildly annoyed. Eowyn talks for a few moments and then he shoots a glare in your direction.

You raise an eyebrow at him, daring him to say no. He bites the inside of his lip. The seconds pass as you wait for his response.

Finally, his body relaxes and he nods his head. Eowyn sits down on the cushion next to him, snuggling up right close to him. Although Astarion tenses a bit, he doesn’t push her away. You watch them for a bit, admiring how adorable they look together.

A pair of hands find their way to your shoulders.

A familiar voice whispers in your ear. “I’m going to bathe in the river. Would you like to join me?” Halsin asks. He places a hot kiss against your neck.

“Halsin, the day I say no to that question, I want you to push me off a cliff, because clearly I’ve gone mad,” you respond.

A breathy laugh caresses your skin. You give him your hand and the two of you make your way to the water.

When you return from your excursion with Halsin, skin still tingling, you’re astounded by the sight before you. Astarion and Eowyn still sit together, except Eowyn is sound asleep in his lap. Astarion looks down at her, his hand resting lightly on her hair. You can’t read his expression.

When you approach Astarion, you crouch down and place a kiss to his temple. He smiles at you, and it makes your heart flutter just like the first time.

“I can have Halsin take her to my tent,” you offer, brushing back a strand of his white curls.

He hesitates, looking down at Eowyn. “I think we’ll be okay. She looks so comfortable.”

She’s curled right up, her head resting on his chest. Her face looks so serene after all the horrors she’s experienced today.

“Okay. I’ll go spend the night with Halsin then. Just come get me if you need me,” you tell him.

“I think we’ll be okay, darling,” he replies.

You smile and kiss him goodnight. As you make your way to Halsin’s tent, you take one last look over your shoulder, and allow yourself a moment to admire the two of them. And it brings you great joy to know Astarion is finding just as much comfort as she is.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #halsin #halsin x reader x astarion #astarion x reader x halsin #halsin x reader #astarion x reader #astarion imagine #halsin imagine

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daddydixonscrossbow · 21 days

Text

Summary: Reader travels to hilltop to find out some important news.

Warnings: twd themes, zombies, weapons, blood/gore, strong language, age gap (reader is in their late 20’s), pregnant!reader, talk of pregnancy, kissing, mainly fluff

Word Count: 3.4k | unedited

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

“Hey.” You smile at Michonne, “Mind if I catch a ride with you to hilltop?”

She smiles, “Not at all. Hop in.”

You nod, “I gotta go let Daryl know, I’ll be right back.”

You turn, walking back towards the house when Daryl walks out, “You goin’ with Michonne?” You tilt your head, “How’d you know?”

Dog breaks through the crack of the door and runs up to you, nuzzling his nose into your leg, “Hi, boy. I’ll see you soon, okay?” You bend down, allowing him sniff your face.

“Saw you talkin’ t’her.” Daryl walks down, reaching out to scratch Dog’s head, “It’s fine if you are.”

“I want to go talk to Maggie, see if she needs any help. Plus, I want to help Michonne with getting those people a home.” You stand back up, “Why don’t you come with?”

He shakes his head, “I gotta help Rick, goin’ for a run, I’ll come up tomorrow?”

You nod, “Yeah, that works.” You step in towards him, “Good luck.” He smirks and nods, “You, too.” He pecks your lips, “Love you.”

You smile, “Love you.”

You turn around to walk away and Dog bark, following you. Daryl yells, “Hey, Dog. C’mon, boy. Thought you liked me better.”

You smile at Daryl, scratching Dog’s head before motioning back to Daryl, “Go, boy. Go with dad.” Dog whines and nudges your leg with his nose.

You take a deep breath and walk him back to Daryl, “Okay. Now I’m going.” You smile at him and make your way to the wagon, climbing up in with the others.

“Ready?” Michonne asks and you nod, “Yep.”

The wagon starts going and you wave to Daryl as you exit the gate. He lifts his hand, giving you a small smile.

You turn back, extending your hand out to the one girl, “Y/n.” She shakes your hand, “Magna.” She points as she introduces each person in her group, “Luke, Yumiko, Kelly, and Connie.”

Connie signs and you smile, signing back, “Nice to meet you, too.” You spell out your name, “I’m y/n.”

She smiles and nods.

“Have you been with these guys long?” Magna asks and you nod, “Few years, yeah. They’re good people, I came with to help try and get you guys into Hilltop.”

“We appreciate it. It was getting old being out there, constantly on the run.” Magna rolls her eyes and you nod, “That’s how I was, right before I was found by Rick and his group.”

“Were you alone?” She asks and you nod, “Yep. And it was hell.”

The ride to hilltop was mainly smooth, other than a few walkers that people at the front took care of, so you really, and luckily, didn’t have to do much of anything on the ride there, which is what you had hoped for.

You were exhausted, way more than normal, but you didn’t want anyone to ask questions so you played it off as best you could.

Once you arrived to hilltop, you got out and walked up to the gate where you were greeted by Maggie, “Glad to see you. How’s Daryl?”

You nod stepping back, “He’s good. Coming up tomorrow.”

She nods, “Good. Who do you have with you?” She motions towards the people walking in and Michonne walks up, “This group needs a home, I told them that we’d bring them to you, they can help with their part.”

Maggie nods, “Let’s talk inside.”

“Y/n, you comin’?” Michonne looks back at you and you nod, “Yeah, I’ll be in then. I’m going to see if anyone needs any help out here.”

Maggie smiles and Michonne nods, “Alright. Suit yourself.”

You manage to sneak away, subtly and casually making your way to the medical trailer, “Hey, Dr. Carson.”

“Y/n. Great to see you.” He looks you up and down, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, glancing back to the door and lowering your voice, “I need you to do me a favor, and it has to stay between us.”

He raises a brow, “Okay? What can I do?”

“I need an ultrasound.”

“Like.. a pre-“

“Yes.” You nod, cutting him off, “And I don’t want anyone to know about it.”

He nods, motioning to the table, “You got it. Have you been having any symptoms?” He gets the machine ready and you sigh, “Um, kind of? I’ve been more tired, eating makes me want to barf, and I’ve been super bloated.”

“Before we continue, I have to ask.”

You shake your head, “Daryl doesn’t know.”

Carson nods, “Okay, but I was going to ask how you feel about this.”

You laugh slightly, “Um, well.” Tears form in your eyes and you take a shaky breath, “I might be pregnant during the apocalypse, so how do you think I feel?”

“Is the grouchiness a new thing, too?” He smiles and you can’t help but laugh, “How’d you know?”

“You usually never had an attitude unless someone does wrong by you or someone you care a lot about.” He shrugs, “Just trying to cover all the bases.”

He motions for you to pull up your shirt and you comply. Taking a few deep breathes as he puts a gel on your stomach.

You weren’t ready for it. But you forced yourself, you needed to know.

“Okay, so there’s your uterine tissue, and if we go down just a tad..” Carson stops talking and you stare at the screen, “h-how far a long?”

“Looks to be about ten or so weeks. Healthy little thing, that’s for sure.”

“Ten!?” You lay your arm over your face, “I think I’m going to be sick.” Carson wipes off your stomach and helps sit you up, “I know, you were probably hoping for other news, but..”

You shake your head, “No, no. I mean we didn’t plan this, obviously..” you stand up, “I just, I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“That’s okay, y/n. As your friend, it’s totally okay to feel unsure, but as your doctor, telling Daryl is the best thing you can do.”

You close your eyes, “Oh my god.” You turn your head, “You said they were good? They’re healthy?”

He nods, “Oh yeah. But I want to see you back here in about three, four weeks if you can.”

You nod, “Three, four weeks. Got it.”

“And try and cut back on the walker killing. Don’t strain yourself, too much. Okay?”

“I’ll try.” You take a deep breath, slowly blowing it out, “I’m going to go now before I puke all over your work space.”

As you walk to the door, Carson walks over, “Here.” He hands you the ultrasound picture and you can’t help but smile as you take it, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You nod, shoving the picture into your back pocket and walking out. As soon as you step onto the ground, it hits you. You run over to the back of the trailer and bend over, puking up what you can.

“Y/n?”

You wipe your mouth and stand up, “Maggie, hi.”

“What are you doing?” She tilts her head, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fantastic.” You lean against the trailer and she walks over, reaching up to feel your forehead, “You’re not runnin’ a fever, did you tell Dr. Car-“

“I just came from there.” You take a deep breath, “I’m going to tell you something, but it needs to stay between us, for now at least.”

“How far along are ya?”

You bring your head back and you laugh, “How did you know?”

She smiles, “Please. I have like a weird sixth sense when it comes to that. C’mon, let’s see it.” She holds her hand out and you bring the ultrasound from your back pocket, “Here. Carson says about ten weeks or so. Healthy little thing.”

She just her lip out and looks up at you, “How does Daryl feel about this?”

Your smile fades and tears well up in your eyes, “I-I haven’t told him yet.”

Maggie hands you back the picture and she wraps her arm around you, “C’mon, let’s go inside and talk.” You wipe your face before you start walking and you shove the picture into your sweatshirt pocket.

She leads you inside to her office and closes the door, “When did you first think you were?”

You sit down and sigh, “Probably a few weeks ago, but there’s just so much going on at Alexandria, I never really had a moment to break away and get checked for sure.”

“Would be nice to find a workin’ ultrasound machine for there.” Maggie shakes her head, “But I’m glad you hitched a ride with Michonne. It’s good to get checked out.”

You nod, “Daryl said he’ll be here tomorrow and I just-“ you close your eyes, “I’m scared of how he might react.”

Maggie laughs and you look at her like she just kicked your puppy, “Sorry, I just-“ she shakes her head, laying her hand over her mouth, “in all my years of knowing Daryl, he was never one to give anyone the attention he gives to you.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice cracking as you fight back more tears, “Sorry, these hormones. Everything all makes sense now.” You laugh slightly, “ When I was alone out there, before you guys found me.. I never thought I’d find anyone else, let alone someone to love me like Daryl does.”

“See.” Maggie smiles, “I think it’ll be a shock to him at first, but I think he’ll be happy once that wears off.”

You lay a hand on your forehead, “I hope. I’m just so.. nervous about it all.” You laugh, “Oh my god.”

“It not as bad as you think.” Maggie shrugs, “I had Hershel here. Carson and a few others were absolutely amazing.”

“It’s just scary to think-“

“Don’t think like that. If you want, you and Daryl can stay here for the duration if you want, just so you’re close to Carson.” Maggie offers and you nod, “I’ll have to see what, and how Daryl feels about that.”

“I think it’ll be fine.” Maggie tilts her head, “I think ya’ll are havin’ a girl.”

You smile, “You think so?”

She nods, “Daryl has girl mom written all over him.” She laughs, “I know he’s probably want a boy, but that’s also why I’m thinkin’ girl.”

You laugh and lean back against the chair, “I think I’m still in shock, partially.”

“It never goes away.” Maggie shakes her head, “C’mon, let’s go get you something to eat. I have some ginger lyin’ around her somewhere. It’ll help with the nausea.”

——

You tosses and turned all night.

One, because you couldn’t get comfortable. Two, because you missed Daryl, you hated being away from him, and three, your nerves were still eating you alive.

You sat up, swinging your legs off the bed and you just sat there.

Different ways of telling Daryl running through your mind.

“Fucking hell.” You get up, quietly making your way to where the radio is set up. You click the mic and take a deep breath, “Hilltop to Alexandria.”

You give it a little before calling again, “Hilltop to Alexandria. This is y/n, over.”

“You’ve reached Alexandria, this is Eugene speaking, over.”

“Eugene.” You sigh, “Do you know if Daryl is around, or even awake?”

“Is everything all good on that side of the trees? I do believe he’s patrolling because according to my observation, he can’t stand it when you aren’t here.”

You laugh slightly, “Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, I just.. can’t stand it when I’m not there with him either.”

“Sit tight, hold your horses. I’ll be back before the goose can squawk, over.”

You shake your head, smiling as you rest your chin in your palm as you wait. A few minutes later, you hear the click and let out a sigh of relief when you hear Daryl say your name, “Y/n, what’s goin’ on?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah.” Daryl chuckles, “Me either. I shoulda’ came with ya.”

You laugh slightly, “Or you could have just let Dog come with me.” Daryl laughs, “You know damn well if I gave that dog a’choice, he’d pick you.”

“What can I say.” You sniffle, trying to stay calm, “I’m his favorite.”

“What’s wrong?”

You knew hiding something from Daryl was impossible. He could sniff it out a thousand miles away, “Nothing, nothing, I just.. wish I would have stayed, that’s all.”

“It’ll be okay, darlin’. I’ll be there as soon as I can, too dangerous t’ride at night like this.”

“No, honey. I know. I’m just, being a.. a big baby right now.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” He laughs and you nod to yourself, looking out the window, “Should only be a few more hours until day break, right?”

“That’s right, baby.” Daryl sighs, “Why don’t y’try and get some sleep, hmm?”

“I’m not making any promises.” You laugh quietly, “I love you.”

“I love you, I’ll see you in the mornin’ alright?”

“Alright.” You can hear him walk off and Eugene picks up, “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Eugene. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You walk back to your room and lay down. You stare up at the ceiling, hand on your stomach. You remember the ultrasound picture and pull it from your pocket. You look at it in the glow of the moonlight, a small smile resting on your lips.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing, children were the future after all, right?

You tucked the picture back into your pocket and rolled over, getting as comfy as you can before you finally got some sleep.

You up as soon as the light started shining through the window, glaring right in your eyes. You sat up, making your way to the bathroom to get as ready for the day as you could.

An hour or so later, you hear the gates open, the sound of Daryl’s bike and Dog barking.

You turn, bending down to meet Dog as he runs up to you, “Hi my handsome boy! Did you miss me? Huh?” You laugh as he licks your chin and you look up, seeing Daryl walk up to you with a smile, “Did y’get any sleep?”

You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him, “Took a little, but yeah. Eventually.”

He holds you tight and kisses your head, “Ya eat anything yet?”

You shake your head and he nods, “Yeah, me neither, c’mon.”

You walk inside and Maggie walks up, “Hey Daryl.” As she’s is hugging him, she gives you a look and you shake your head.

She nods and leans back, “Breakfast is almost done. Hang tight, okay?”

Daryl nods and turns around, “I don’t think you can ever do that again.” You smile, tilting your head, “Do what?”

“Leave me back home like that.” He pulls you into a hug and dog nudges at you again. Daryl groans, “Dog, what is your problem? Can’t I get five minutes with her?”

He whines and you look up at Daryl, “I think I might know what’s going on.” He tilts his head and you look around, “Come with me.”

You lead him to a room and close the door, “I didn’t..” you take a deep breath, “Fuck, okay.” You shake your hands and rub them on your thighs, “I’m nervous, hold on.”

“What are’ya nervous about, y/n?” Daryl walks up to you and you reach into your pocket, slowly pulling out the ultrasound, “This is why I came here.”

He looks down at your hand and takes the picture, flipping it over and he scoffs, a small smirk on his lips, “Ain’t no way.”

“A-are you mad?” You can feel your eyes burn from the tears that are forming and he looks up at you, shaking his head, “Mad? Why the hell would I be mad?”

He places his hands on your hips, “Look at me.” He reaches up, gently pushing your chin upward, “We’ll figure things out, alright? Things change, and that’s okay.”

He swipes away a stray tear on your cheek with his thumb, “We always have, right?” You nod, sniffling and he cups your cheek, “We always will.” He kisses your head and pulls you into, “That’s prolly’why dog has been up your ass lately.”

You laugh, “Yeah, maybe I’m not the favorite.”

Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, “Don’t say that.” He steps back, walking over to the window to look at the picture in better light.

He studies it for a few seconds, “How far along are ya?”

You walk over, “Carson said about ten weeks. They’re healthy, too. Which is a good thing.”

He nods, “Yeah, yeah it is.” He looks up, shaking his head, “I just..” he scoffs, laughing slightly, “Did you know before, or?”

You shake your head, “I had a feeling, and a few symptoms, but things have been so crazy back home I just didn’t have time to-“

“Nah, you don’t need to be doing anythin’ like y’been.” Daryl shakes his head, “You have two things to worry about and that’s you and our baby.”

You smile, nodding your head.

“Does anyone else know?” He asks as he turns towards you. You nod, “Carson and Maggie. She walked up on me puking outside of the medical trailer and she just knew.”

“Yeah, she’s got some sort’a sixth sense when it comes to this kinda thing.”

“That’s what Maggie said.” You laugh and step towards him, your arms wrapping around him. His arms snake around you and he buries his face into your neck.

“I’m sorry I was nervous.” You whisper and Daryl shakes his head as he stands up, “Don’t, you don’t ever have to say sorry.” He pinches your chin gently, “Not to me.”

You nod, reaching up to tuck hair behind his ear, “Maggie says you’re a girl dad.”

He scoffs, “I’m sure she did.” He smirks and holds up the ultrasound, “Y’think Carson is busy?”

“Only one way to find out.” You smile and take Daryl’s hand, walking out to the medical trailer. When you walk in, he turns around and smiles, “I see you took my advice.”

You nod, “Yeah, I did.” You motion to Daryl, “He wants to see, if you have some time.”

Carson nods towards the table, “of course.”

You walk over to the table and Daryl is right there, his hand in yours while his other presses into your back to help you lay down.

You pull your shirt up and Carson puts the gel on again.

Daryl keeps a hold of your hand, watching everything Carson down intently, “Now what that?” He points to your stomach and Carson smiles slightly, “It’s a gel, basically helps the picture be clearer.”

Daryl nods, watching as he places the wand on your stomach, “So right here..” Carson points to the screen, “Is your baby.”

You look from the screen to Daryl, “That’s our baby.”

Daryl shakes his hair from his face and takes a deep breath, “Yeah, yeah it is.”

You push your bottom lip out, “Are you okay?”

He nods, “Yeah, it just..” he looks down, wiping away his face and you smile, turning your head back to the screen as you squeeze his hand.

“When can we find out what it is?” You look up at Carson and he shrugs, “usually, between eighteen and twenty two weeks, but it really comes down to if the baby wants to cooperate.”

“They’ll be stubborn.” Daryl chuckles, squeezing your hand, “Just like mom.”

“Excuse me?” You raise your brows, giving him a laugh, “I don’t think I’m as anywhere as stubborn as you are, Mr. Dixon.”

He laughs and shakes his head, bending down to kiss your forehead, “Alright, alright.”

Carson wipes off your stomach and Daryl helps you sit up, “When do you want to see her back?”

“Few weeks, but I told her that if she needs anything, she knows where to find me. You both do.” Carson looks between you and Daryl and nods.

“C’mon, let’s go get you somethin’ t’eat.” Daryl runs your back and you look at him, “Maggie gave us an offer to stay here if you want.”

He thinks for a moment and nods, “Let’s go talk t’Maggie.”

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Thank you so much for reading! 🖤

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wingedhallows · 8 months

Text

you don't know shit ; the marauders

pairing: the marauders (+ lily x reader ; platonic ) | 1.6k words plot: Things had changed over the summer, you had changed. Why didn't you speak to them & why did you look more dead than alive? prompt: “you don’t know shit about what happened to me.” authors note: i just love angsty shit :)

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Spending the summer at home was hard, horrible even. All your friends decided to spend their summer together, at James Potter's house. You couldn’t join, not when your parents were fanatic purebloods with a grip so hard it bruised, literally.

Sirius had managed to run away, to flee from his parents' iron grip. You admired him for his bravery, but in all honesty, you were a coward, right?

Did enduring it all, pushing through every insult and curse make you strong or weak? You didn’t quite know. The train came to a halt, the whistle reminding every student to get off.

You had avoided them, your friends. You’d usually walk past the Hufflepuffs to the wagon the Gryffindors inhapitated but this year you didn’t. The Slytherin wagon seemed more comfortable, quieter than their wagon. Just to avoid their questions, their worry.

With your bag around your shoulder you exited the train, a heavy feeling on your chest. You could feel it, the way they stared at you.

You looked him in the eyes, Sirius. No smile graced your face this year, there was just nothing to smile about. Your mother had made sure that you��d remember that.

“Y/N, where were yo-” he stopped talking as you walked past them, not giving them the time of day.

“What the fuck.” You heard Sirius say as James rushed after you. “Hey, Y/N.” He caught your shoulder, a confused look on his face.

“Didn’t you see-”I did.” You paused before turning around. “Let go of me, Potter.” You spat, the cold look on your face was painful. You wanted nothing more than to jump into their arms, to give them the warm smiles they deserved.

You ripped your shoulder out of his grip and stalked off, tears threatening to spill. You were sorry, so sorry it hurt.

“Y/N!” Remus yelled after you, but you were too far ahead, thankfully. You would’ve turned around otherwise.

Breakfast the next day was weird, you sat at your house’s table, the Slytherins. Nobody talked to you, you had sat at the Gryffindor table the past six years for all they knew.

The boys stared your way, watched how you didn’t eat. The way your eyes looked lifeless and you hadn’t touched your cup once.

It made them sick.

“She’s not eating.” Sirius said, bread in his hand. James leaned over looking over the heads of his friends.

“Is she even breathing?” he paused, taking a sip from his cup.

“She looks dead.” Lily sighed, her head whipped around to look at you.

“She’s skinnier. What did they do to her?” Remus looked over his shoulder as well, the sight of you, how broken you seemed hurt him. It was devastating to see you like this.

The food made you sick and without another thought you stood, determined to get away from it, from them.

Their eyes were on you, you could feel it. Your eyes found James’, against your will because the look in his hurt more than the crucio curse your mother had sent your way when you arrived back home this summer.

Your heart began to pound as you caught a glimpse of them making their way over to you. Your feet began to walk faster, to get away. “Y/N!” You could hear Lily but you didn’t stop walking. You cut the corner, your shoulder almost hitting the brick wall in the process. "Y/N!" Stop!” Sirius's loud voice stopped you in your tracks, your breath hitched as your eyes widened.

“Just, stop.” he spoke quieter, a hand already on your shoulder. You took a breath, eyes closing in defeat before you turned around, face in the cold mask you were just so familiar with.

“What?” you spoke, voice almost too quiet to hear. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you.

“What the fuck do you mean, what?”

You looked away, anywhere but his face. “Did you need anything?” A sigh escaped you and James pushed forwards.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been avoiding us like the plague since we came back.” You crossed your arms and nodded.

“What is wrong?” Remus said, a hand outstretched to grab your arm, you flinched away. “Nothing.”

Sirius scoffed. “You can’t fool us.” he shook his head.

“Something happened to you back home, tell us.” he tried. A cuckle escaped you, face in a frown.

“You don’t know shit about what happened to me.”

Lily took a step toward you, your herbology book in hand. You took it without saying anything. “How could we, you won’t talk to us.”

“I’m busy.” You paused and took a step back.

“Astronomy Tower, 8pm.” Was all you gave them before you took off. Lily tried to reach for you but you were too fast.

There they stood, 8 pm sharp. “She’s not coming.” Moony spoke, elbows on the railing. Lily sighed and sat down next to Sirius who had just lit his next fag. “Just wait.” He spoke, breathing out the smoke. “It’s not been five minutes yet.” He said, shoulder leant on the brick wall behind him.

The door squeaked and their heads whipped around, you could feel their stares. With a smooth movement, you swooped your own pack of cigarettes from your pocket. Sirius had sprung to his feet, his lighter almost lit. You were faster and lit the stick on your own. “I got it.” you almost whispered before he retreated with a frown on his face.

“So, you gon’ talk now?” James threw your way, impatiently. “God, James.” Lily spat and stood next to you.

“What? It’s the truth, she’s been avoiding us, not wanting to be around us. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.” He directed towards you, you sighed and took another drag of your cigarette.

“I will.” You said as you pushed your hand through your hair, desperately begging your heart to stop pounding.

You reached for your wand which was tucked in your right boot and took a breath before you called off the concealment charm and within a second the atmosphere on top of the astronomy tower changed.

Your friends now saw what you saw every day.

What the mirror showed you every time your laid your eyes upon it.

The scars of the objects your mother had sent your way in a fit of anger, the bruises of charms and hexes your father had used when you spoke back and the twitch of your eye, your lips of the many crucio curses you had to endure when you defended your friends.

“Oh my god.” Remus whispered, you took another drag of your cigarette. Your left eye still stung, it was probably blue too. You lifted your head, now looking at them.

“That’s why I couldn't talk to you.” You stomped on the done cigarette and sighed.

“I’m not as brave as you, Sirius.” Tears stung at your eyes, your chest tight.

“My parents are just like yours, selfish, hateful, awful people.” You paused and turned around, staring down the tower. The view was as beautiful as it had been the first time you looked down it. Absolutely breathtaking.

“I can’t seem to leave them, though.” Lily’s hand was on your shoulder now. “I’m too weak.” You let the tears fall, your clammy cold hands wiped at your nose.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.” Sirius spoke, no next to you, his elbow rested on the railing as well. “For all I know, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”

You stared at him now, your eye twitched again. You could feel it now, the pain, all over again.

“I’m not-”To take all of that, whatever your parents did to you and still stand here.” Lily’s hand rubbed your back as you tried to hold back the sob.

“You’re not at all weak, Y/N.”

Remus stood next to Sirius, his elbow on his friend's shoulder. A sad smile formed on his lips as he wiped the tears.

“We’ll take care of those.” He waved at the scars. “I’ve had my fare share of those myself.” he tried, a weak chuckle escaped your lips. An attempt to lighten the mood.

“There she is.” James grinned. “A smile suits you better.” You punched his shoulder softly and he chuckled at you.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” Lily waved you off, an arm now around your shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, love.” Sirius threw in.

“You’re not going back there, though. I hope you know that.” Sirius spoke.

“You could stay with us, I’m sure mom wouldn’t mind now that Pads is stayin’ with us anyway.” James smiled at you and you tried to give him a small smile yourself.

“Or with us, I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind if I explained.” Lily spoke as she rubbed your shoulder.

“You’re not alone in this.” Remus spoke, a hand on your cheek to wipe the tears.

“We hold together, no matter what.” Sirius said, a hand stroked your hair as he gave you a small smile.

“I love you, all of you.” You spoke, a new fag in your mouth now.

“You’re more than friends” You paused and lit the stick.

“You’re my family.”

James barked out a laugh and took a sip from the bottle he brought up here.

“To family then.” You chuckled and nodded. “To family, cause my own sucks.” Sirius nodded and took a drag from his fag as well.

“This family only.”

#the marauders #marauders imagine #marauders era #harry potter angst #harry potter fanfic #sirius black #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader #harrypotter #hp fanfic #the marauders angst #remus lupin #lily evans #james potter #the marauders x reader #the marauders x y/n #the marauders x you #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfic

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thaleleah · 2 months

Text

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝔀𝓸)

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Nun!Reader

Warnings: ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Dark!Billy, Virgin!Reader, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, P in V, Corruption Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Masturbation, Wet Dreams/Sex Dreams, Seduction, Emotional Manipulation, Religion and Religious Beliefs, Explicit talk of gunshot wounds, blood, and the bullet's removal, Mention of physical abuse/child abuse (not from Billy), Childhood Trauma, Mention of alcoholism, Moral/Religious conflict within one's self, My bad Spanish, Nun breaking her vows, Probably too quick of a healing process to be fucking someone but I'm not a doctor so 🤷🏻‍♀️, Using the word "drawers" instead of "panties" which is kinda cringe to me but I wanted to be somewhat accurate

Word Count: 9.5K

A/N: So sorry this took so long! 🥺 But I hope you guys like it and I'm hopeful that the next part won't take nearly as long to get out.

Summary: When Billy stumbles into your clinic, hurt and in desperate need of care and refuge, you don't hesitate to help him. Perhaps this is God's will. Perhaps He has brought him into your life to help heal the parts of him that the cruelness of the world has soiled and broken. You are a healer by trade, both of the physical body and of faith. If this is to be God's mission for you, then it shall be done. How could you have possibly known that the young man who begged for help that fateful night would turn out to be the devil himself?

<<< Previous | Next >>>

The ride to Joe’s cabin only takes a few hours, and the sun is high in the sky by the time Sam helps you down from your seat. You hastily make your way to the front door, opening the latch and pushing it open, keeping it propped with a heavy rock laid by the door while Sam opens the back of the wagon. The journey inside is a bit more difficult this time. Billy gasps in pain when you stumble on the front stairs, tripping over your tunic and jerking his body down accidentally as a result. He’s breathing harshly when you and Sam are able to lay him down on your brother’s bed and you once again find yourself whispering apology after apology as you lift his shirt and the bandage to check on his wound.

Thankfully, there’s no tears or rips. You were only able to bring a little bit of the suture material and enough extra bandages in your bag to get you by. The clinic has limited materials as it is, so you only packed what you thought the clinic could spare. It’s enough to completely redo his stitches if necessary, but you’re hoping it won’t ever come to that.

Billy’s safe here now, he will not be leaving the bed until he’s well enough to start moving around on his own.

His hand comes down to rest on top of your own, pushing your hand down and forcing you to recover the stitches with the bandage as his fingers curl around your palm.

“Hey,” He says softly, calling your eyes to his tired ones. “I'm okay.”

His hand is gentle on yours, thumb lazily sweeping back and forth across the back of it. You pull it away, smoothing your tunic down again just for something else to do with your hands.

You didn’t even notice when Sam left the room, too preoccupied with checking on Billy’s wound, but your head turns at the sound of his boots on the steps of the porch. He steps back into the cabin, a crate held in his hands filled with food and other supplies and you let out a grateful sigh at the sight of it.

“Thank you, Sam,” You say, watching as he deposits the crate just on the side of the doorway. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping us. You’re a good man,”

Sam smiles shyly at your words of praise, and out of the corner of your eye you notice how Billy’s head snaps towards him.

“Of course, Sister y/n. Anything for you and the other Sisters,”

“Are you sure this is alright? You don’t need it for your delivery?”

“No,” He says with a shake of his head. “I packed it for you to have,”

You cup Sam’s cheek in thanks and shoot another glance towards Billy just to make sure he’s okay. His face is turned to the side again, pressing against the pillow for comfort, but you can see how his eyes are still on you, following your every move as you follow Sam out of the cabin.

Poor Billy, he must still be so nervous. So on edge about being hunted like he's nothing more than a rabid animal needing to be put down. Hopefully now that he's safe and out of harm's way, he can find some peace.

You walk Sam out, watching as he checks the horses and settles himself on the seat.

“I’ll come back in two weeks,” He promises. “That should be enough time for the search for him to wind down. Can't let people get suspicious. I have another delivery to do 'round then. I'll bring you some extra food and supplies.”

You wave as he nudges the wagon into motion and wait until he’s completely out of view over the hill before heading back inside and closing the door behind you.

Billy’s still watching you as you move about the main living area. Your brother’s bed has a direct line of eyesight into the front area, so Billy doesn’t even have to move to be able to watch you as you settle your bag and extra blankets onto the floor. You’ve told Joe before about how dangerous you think it is to have his bed in clear sight of the entrance, but he’s told you many times that he doesn’t like being told what to do.

“Besides, you know what it was like,” You remember him telling you. “Sleeping soundly in that house was never an option. And that feeling never goes away. If someone ever tries to break in here and attack me, I’ll already be awake and ready with my gun pointed at them before they even make it through the front door.”

As much as it pained you to hear, you know the truth of it. You’ve gotten better, you think. Whereas when you were younger, you would wake from the slightest noise, terrified of what might come after it. But now you find you can sleep through the night with very little problems. It’s not perfect - some nights are harder than others, but you credit God and the wonderful family you’ve found at the convent. They gave you rest, taught you to give your fears to the Lord so that he may take the burden they bear from you. They gave you peace in the world when you had none, and for that you will be eternally grateful.

Joe has not been so lucky, choosing instead to lock himself away in solitude rather than give his grievances up for absolvement. You pray for him every day despite his reluctance, asking God for guidance on his behalf.

The entire cabin is almost bare, sparse furniture just enough to be convenient. Despite your prayers, you know the ghost of the past still hovers over your brother's shoulder and even still, you wonder how he can stand to call this place a home with how unloved it feels.

“How do you know Sam?” Billy asks, and the cabin is small enough that his voice carries from room to room.

“He and his father run one of the markets in town,” You reply. You make your way into the bedroom, pulling the now rumpled blankets from under Billy's body and adjusting them so they lay over him neatly. “They’re our suppliers.”

“You seem very close,” Billy says, absently running his fingers over the edge of the blanket.

“Oh, well, he’s a dear friend,”

“You sure you can trust him?”

You nod, a small twinge offended at the implication of Sam being untrustworthy. After what he just risked to get you both here and Billy still doubts him? You stomp the feeling down just as quick as it flares. “Sam is incredibly loyal. He would never betray us,”

Billy’s mouth turns up in an unpleasant curl. “I think he likes you,”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “I should hope so. Otherwise, he is a very good actor,”

He huffs a small laugh at your attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t really sound joyful. “Not like that,”

It takes a second for your brain to register his vague words, but when they do your mouth falls open in shock at the bold statement. “No. No, no. Certainly not. Not me anyway,”

Oops. Perhaps you’ve said too much.

Now it’s Billy’s brows that furrow and he stares at you, hard, as if trying to read your mind about what you’ve meant. They shoot up as it clicks for him, a smirk pulling at his lips at the realization. “Him and one of the other nuns?”

“No!” You gasp. “Absolutely not. Sam just– bless his heart. He… has romantic feelings for one of the Sisters.”

“She doesn’t feel the same?”

Not exactly. Sam and Sister Ann have a connection that anyone with eyes can’t deny. They help complete each other and help each other grow in ways that one can only hope to experience in this life. Sister Ann has even confided in you that, while she doesn’t regret joining the church, she can’t help but think that if she had met Sam sooner then she would have said her vows to him instead of straight to God.

“It’s not that simple,” You settle with. “She’s a woman of faith and she’s spoken for by the church. They can’t be together regardless of what she may feel. Sam understands.”

Billy hums, a low and displeased sound. “Hm. Poor Sam,”

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, so you don’t. Billy’s still frowning, so you tell him he should rest some more while you go fix up some lunch for you both. You’re happy to find that the simple stew made from some deer meat your brother had stored before his current trip is enough to cut the sudden unexpected tension and return him to good spirits.

Things are calmer now that you’ve arrived at the cabin. There’s very little risk of unwanted visitors and your brother’s last letter puts him deep in Texas and considering venturing upwards, so you're confident that he won’t be coming home anytime soon.

You’ve heard stories about Billy the Kid. Your patients like to talk, surprisingly gossipy considering most should be too sick or too involved with their pain to speak. But they push through their uncomfortableness to tell you stories of the young outlaw whose face is on the Most Wanted posters in at least three separate counties.

“He’s a ruthless killer.”

“A no-good murderer.”

“A good person who’s just had back luck.”

“A kindly fellow. He helped scare off some kids who were robbin’ me!”

And as you talk to Billy more and more, you can’t help but agree with the last two opinions. Billy is a sweetheart - respectful and kind like any man should be towards any woman despite her role in society. He listens with rapt attention as you tell him stories of your travels as you clean and re-bandage his wound. He nods when you tell him about the difference between the Utah territory and the Montana territory, and laughs when you tell him about your very memorable trip to Mexico where you climbed off the wagon and didn’t even take one step before face planting in a pile of mud. His grin is almost blinding when you tell him about the day you and your brother reunited after two years apart.

“Your brother’s name is Joe?” He asks.

“Mhm,” You confirm, leaning back into the chair you’ve placed next to the bed.

“My brother’s name was Joe, too,”

“Oh,” You smile despite the twinge in your heart. The word ‘was’ is almost devastating to hear. “It’s a good name. A strong name.”

Billy nods and his voice is barely above a whisper as he responds, “Yeah, it is,” and you think you can physically see the light die in his eyes as he thinks about it, the look of happiness he had just a second ago completely snuffed out by past memories.

You don’t want to pry, it’s not your place. But then he glances at you with those big blue eyes of his and all you see is hurt. God has put you on this Earth to be a healer, and you think that turning away now would be doing both Him and the broken man in front of you a disservice.

“Was he older or younger?” You ask, softly. “Your brother,”

“Younger,” he responds, and your heart breaks more at the rueful smile he sends you. “He died. Consumption. My mother too.”

Oh. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Billy. I can only imagine how hard that must have been,”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s not even looking at you now, just staring off into the distance as if somewhere else.

You lean forward, placing a careful hand on his arm. “Tell me about them?”

This time, the smile is real.

You learn over the next few days that Billy’s faith is in even worse shape than you feared.

For most, the presence of God is never fully gone from their hearts. Most who you’ve talked to who are rocky with their faith feel abandoned, cast aside as if The Heavenly Father were to play favorites and they’ve somehow found themselves on the losing side of the ‘sibling’ competition. Others feel betrayed by Him - those who have suffered great loss or tragedy and can’t understand how someone who’s entire being is made up in the light of faith and love can allow such heartbreak and suffering to happen to His children.

You do your best to soothe their heavy hearts. You tell them that God works in mysterious ways and that each and every person has their own trials and lessons in life that they must learn and overcome.

“Everything happens for a reason,” You say. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. But He is always by our side, speaking to us. All we have to do is listen.”

Words are not as powerful as feelings or actions, but you’re always grateful whenever your words are able to help heal any of their woes, even if just a little bit.

Billy, however… you are horrified to see that his faith is gone completely.

He talks about how he came to New Mexico and all he’s seen on the way. His start in New York City and the promise of a better life in Kansas. The lies and tragedy they were met with there. The death of his father.

“I think my Pa knew there was no one up there lookin’ out for us even back then,” Billy says, and it takes everything you have in you to stay silent at the horrific statement. “That’s why he just… gave up.”

For all that you disagree with, you can understand why Billy feels the way he does. He truly has had no one in his corner - devastating hardship after devastating hardship throughout the entirety of his life and he’s had to fight tooth and nail, carving a place out in the world for himself by force, just to get a bit of peace that should have been readily given to him.

“Tell me, Sister. When you’re by yourself in the world, young and alone and starvin’, not a penny to your name and no work for you in the entire county, what else are you supposed to do?”

The tears welling in your eyes match the ones threatening to spring from his.

“Exactly what you did,” You whisper back.

A single tear escapes one red rimmed eye, running down the curve of his cheek. “Is that what your god does? Leave children to steal or starve and then let them be arrested and made into a criminal when they choose not to just roll over and die?”

The lump in your throat refuses to go down. “We can’t know what the Lord’s plan is for us. It’s a mystery meant for us to unravel,” Your words are true, but they feel bitter on your tongue. “No matter how hard it might be.”

Billy’s eyes soften at your words, thick lashes clumping together with unshed tears, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of emotion.

“You remind me of my Ma,”

He’s told you about his Ma. A kindly, religious minded woman whose devotion to God and her ‘rotten, cheatin’, stealin’ ass husband’ was her downfall.

“‘I won’t leave him’ she said.” Billy had huffed, hands squeezing into fists as they wrapped tightly around the blanket. “‘I said my vows before God and the Catholic church’. What am I supposed to say to that?”

You can see how it eats at him - still after all these years since his mother’s passing and the guilt of not being able to save her, to protect her from anything and everything trying to harm her, it gnaws away at his heart. You think she might have been his best friend.

“Yeah, you remind me of my Ma,” He repeats, voice soft and low, and you wonder if this is the voice that he used to use when talking to her. “She was optimistic too. A dreamer, always tryin’ to see the best in people when all they do is show you their worst.”

“She sounds like a lovely lady,” You say. It’s genuine - you think it would have been an honor to meet the woman that Billy called a mother had you ever gotten the chance.

The woman who was strong for her family when it felt like the entire world was crumbling down around them. The woman who pushed for progress and courage when they uprooted their entire lives in hopes of finding something better elsewhere and held it together for the sake of her children when their father passed. The woman who sacrificed staying in an unfaithful and unhappy marriage for the sake of her kids and loyalty to God’s will.

“The vows we make are meant to be for eternity, Billy,” You had told him. “They are not to be broken easily or without consequence. If they were, there would be no point in making them and they would lose their significance.”

Your own mother knew that too. Despite how much you wanted her to leave him when you were younger - run away just you, Mama, and Joe - she never did.

“My father wasn’t a very nice man either,” You say, eventually. “Like your stepdad. He was cruel. He would hit her, and Joe…” The me remains unspoken, but understood anyway.

Billy remains silent, but his eyes are on you, listening with full attention to whatever you’re about to tell him. The idea that maybe God has sent Billy into your life to help heal some unresolved part of you, too, isn’t lost on you.

“I know that we are all God’s children,” You say. “And I know that there is good in all people. But sometimes… I think the Devil’s hold is much too strong on some. Because I can’t remember even one ounce of goodness in my father.”

“Is your mother still with him?”

“No. She’s dead.”

The days go by with an unexpected ease that you're grateful for.

You talk, and talk, and talk - and honestly, that's about as much as you can do. Your brother has nothing. No forms of entertainment and no distractions that wouldn't be considered laborious and harmful for Billy's recovery.

You like to talk though. Like to get to know people and have other's get to know you in return. Each person is unique - an extension of God and an example of His love for us personified.

It's even better when the energetic connection is instant, two souls recognizing each other and relating to each other in a way that you think all of God's children should be able to. Talking with Billy is easy, and despite the differences in religious views, you find that conversation between the both of you flows like water. And when that water sometimes finds itself hitting the shore of land, you find that Sam has come through for you once again.

Sam, bless his soul, has had the forethought to pack a chess board and a pack of playing cards in his care package, and you find that they become quite handy when the rare silence between conversations becomes too stretched.

Despite the initial stress and your reasoning for being here, it's nice.

Five days into the stay at your brother’s place finds you relieved to see that Billy’s wound is still making progress with its healing. You were a little concerned that the threat of being caught and the additional stress on the stitches from the abrupt movements of being transferred to the cabin could have brought about an infection, but the area around the injury still looks clean.

You make sure to send up a quick prayer of thanks for the Good Lord’s grace.

While Billy’s wound is healing nicely, your back, on the other hand, is in significant pain.

Joe’s place is built for one, so the single bed in the only bedroom is more than enough to house him when he’s home. For two, however - it’s a little problematic.

Billy gets the bed, that’s a given. He’s injured, and people need to be comfortable with lots of rest so that they can heal properly. You’re no stranger to uncomfortable sleeping spaces anyway. You’ve spent more than your share of nights on the floor of dusty inns during your travels and, to be completely honest, it's not like the beds at the convent were much better. It’s moments like this where it reminds you of how many things humans take for granted in their day-to-day lives. Sometimes it takes losing something for someone to appreciate it.

Despite the uncomfortableness, sleeping on the floor has never really bothered you much. It’s been a few years since you’ve had to do it though. Even on the round-the-clock shifts at the clinic there’s at least been a cot available to you, but here there’s only the hard wooden floor and the single blanket you’ve allowed yourself to claim.

And, perhaps you aren’t as young as you used to be, because the shooting pain in your back as you carefully roll to your side has you gasping.

Billy must hear the noise because you can hear the slight ruffle of bedding as he shifts, his voice calling out a concerned, “Sister, you alright?”

“Fine,” You call back through gritted teeth. Every movement feels like torture as you brace your hands on the floor to help push you up. You can do it, you tell yourself. You can do it. God willing… “Just- ah! Just trying to– get up.”

The rustling of the bedding sounds more deliberate now and you’re shouting from your place on the floor before you can think about what you’re doing. “Don’t you dare get out of that bed, William Bonney! Or so help me,”

The rustling stops, and you steel yourself to try to push up and off the floor. It feels like a miracle when you’re on your feet. Your garments are wrinkled and slightly dusted, but that’s to be expected out here. It’s the bare space on the floor that gives you pause. How are you meant to sleep on the floor again tonight with the way you feel right now? The thought seems almost unbearable. Perhaps Billy will spare one of his extra blankets - the slight extra cushion could be all you need.

At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

A few steps takes you into the bedroom and your suspicions are confirmed when you see Billy sitting up in the bed, blankets pooling down at his waist as his arms prop himself up, his right leg is just swung over the edge of the bed at the knee in a perfect indication of his intention of getting up.

Ignoring the pain in your back, you walk forward, clicking your tongue in disapproval as you push him back down flat with a firm hand to his forehead. He goes back willingly, moving his leg back in place when you tap on his knee.

“You could have pulled your stitches trying to get up like that,” You reprimand.

“‘So help you’ what?” He responds.

“What?”

“You said ‘or so help me’. So, ‘or so help me’ what?” Billy says with a small playful smirk on his face.

“God,” You respond with a smile of your own. “So help me God. So that maybe He can send me some holy restraints to tie you to this bed to keep you from ripping your stitches and worsening your injury that I worked so hard on healing.”

Billy’s smirk widens. “Careful now, Sister. Some people like that kinda thing,”

You can feel the heat flood your face from his implication, eyes widening as your mouth parts in shock.

You don’t know how to respond - you’ve never been in this type of situation before. For men and all their faults, you’ve been lucky to find that most of them, even the criminals and frequent brothel visitors have mostly been respectful of your title. Inappropriate comments and jokes have rarely been said in your presence since becoming a nun, and on the rare occasion they have you’ve never been shocked since the offenders are always obvious the second they open their mouths.

But somehow it strikes you speechless to hear the sexual meaning coming from Billy’s lips.

“Oh, is that too much for the Angel’s ears?” He laughs. “M’sorry.”

You force a quiet laugh, working your lips into a small smile as you try to battle through the uncomfortableness. He’s just joking. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Men will be men for as sexually driven as they are, and some are just more outspoken about it than others. Billy’s been on his own since he was a young teen, running around with that band of outlaws who you’re sure are far worse than he is. You’ve had the displeasure of meeting Jesse Evans before. And you certainly weren’t shocked when the rude words fell from his mouth about how he imagined how good you would look without all that ‘modesty bullshit you have on’.

Billy isn’t Jesse though, so you just lightly smack his shoulder with the back of your hand as you let out a half teasing but mostly serious, “You watch your language around me, sir. I’m a lady,”

“Yes, ma’am,” He grins. “Yes, you are.”

You hum out a small sound of disapproval as you bend forward slightly to try and adjust the blankets that have twisted around his waist during his premature attempt to stand, but you're stopped when the sharp pain consequence of sleeping on the floor shoots up your spine. Billy starts at your loud gasp, hand darting out to grab your arm as if he could catch you if you suddenly dropped to the ground. Your hands press against your back in agony and they stay there as you slowly limp to the chair next to the bed.

Billy watches as you gingerly lower yourself into the seat. The pain doesn’t go away now that you’re sitting down, but at least you don’t have to move for a while. “What happened?”

“Sleeping on the floor hasn’t been very kind to me,” You respond through gritted teeth.

“You should sleep in the bed then,”

“No,” You say, shaking your head, appalled at the thought of kicking Billy out of the bed while he’s still healing. “You’re injured. You get the bed.”

The eyebrow raise you get in response tells you that you misunderstood his meaning. “I think we can both share the bed,”

“No,” You say, again. “No, no. It’s not proper.”

“Sister y/n–”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with harder things than just sleeping on the floor. A little back pain isn’t going to keep me down,”

Billy looks like he doesn’t believe you, but he keeps quiet on the matter anyway.

He distracts you instead by keeping you talking. He asks about why you decided to join the convent and take your vows. You tell him about your brother and how he couldn’t bear to be around your drunk of a father anymore, and how you harbored such anger at him for what felt like an eternity but was only actually a year and a half because you felt betrayed by him. Deserted and left to fend for yourself by your own brother. How you walked around your house praying to never be seen, acting like a ghost in your own home in hopes of keeping away any avoidable conflict. How your mother did her best to shelter you from it all, and you can tell by the way Billy’s brows furrow and his lips pinch together that he wants to say something harsh in response, but he stays silent. You can only imagine what he would say.

“Shelterin’ you would’ve been takin’ you far away from him, not forcin’ you to stay in a dangerous place just because she thinks it's what God wants. If that’s what God really wants, then maybe he’s the evil one, hm?”

You’re thankful he doesn’t actually say it. You’re not sure if you would have the right words to try to defend otherwise.

“Turning to God was the best thing I’ve ever done,” You say instead. “In Him I’ve found peace like I’ve never known before. I found a family and a purpose in life. That’s more than I could ever ask for.”

“That should be the bare minimum,”

Turns out it doesn’t matter what he decided to say because you don’t really have the right words to defend against that statement either.

“You deserve to have someone lookin’ out for you,” Billy says, and his stare is so earnest and intense that you can’t bare to look him in the eyes anymore.

“I’m… I’m going to go make breakfast,”

He watches you push yourself up from the chair, wincing as your back protests the movement, but doesn’t move to stop you.

You use the time you’re cooking to gather yourself. Prayers of apology fall from your lips to God as you beg for forgiveness at being caught unable to hear His wisdom during your conversation with Billy. Billy spoke his truth, no matter how wrong it was, and his words made you falter - unable to uphold Him and His grace in the face of judgment. This is your mission, your test.

And you’re failing.

Sister Catherine wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have known exactly how to respond to his disbelief. She has a level head on her shoulders, the words of God falling from her lips like water. Perhaps she would have been better suited to handle this task.

No. That’s the work of the devil - the fear and self-doubt you feel. Meant to slow you down and keep you from fulfilling your cause and spiritual duties.

Steeling yourself, you pile spoonfuls of the now thickened oatmeal into two bowls, topping them with a generous drizzle of honey before picking them up and taking a deep breath. You try your best to ignore the pain still throbbing in your back as you head back to the bedroom, pausing just outside the door and letting the heat front the bowls sink into your hands as you talk yourself up.

Have faith in His Holiness, y/n. He will guide you.

When Billy’s eyes catch on you as you walk through the doorway, his face is soft and friendly - none of the overwhelming intensity or barely contained anger that was there before.

“That smells great,” He says, taking the bowl from your outstretched hand. His bright blue eyes follow your movement as you sink slowly back into the chair next to the bed, resting your own bowl on your lap.

He smiles, clearly trying to calm your unease that you’re sure is still evident on your face and takes a large bite of oatmeal.

“Hmm,” He hums, closing his eyes briefly at the taste. “This is delicious. Best meal I’ve ever had. Cooked by an angel, I can tell.”

“Thank you,” You reply, and you can feel the involuntary pull of a smile on your lips at the praise.

He’s a good man, too. You can tell.

The floor isn’t any softer as night rolls around.

You try to sleep on your stomach, one arm propped underneath your head and the blanket balled on top of it so you have something soft to rest your cheek on. The other arm twists down at your side, a position that probably doesn’t seem very pleasant but that’s been your go-to comfort position since you were a young girl. It helps alleviate the tightness in your back for a little bit, but the ache is still there - laying in wait until you fall asleep and your body automatically rolls into the more reasonable position for floor sleeping.

You don’t sleep, or at least you don’t think you do. It doesn’t feel like you do. Your mini dozes just feel like blinks, those moments where you close your eyes, just for a second, before you’re opening them again in the next moment only to realize how much time has actually gone by. You’re not sure if it's minutes or hours, but more often than not you’re blinking only to find that you’re mid roll in adjusting positions and the pain in your back is too intense for your sleeping brain to handle. At one point, you manage to roll completely over before you wake up - the blink of closing your eyes while on your stomach, darkness encompassing the entirety of the main room, and then suddenly your eyes are opening again with the ceiling as your viewpoint, the beginnings of the sun shining in through the window, and the unbelievable agony ever present in your spine.

You’re so preoccupied with the pain that you almost don’t notice Billy standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His eyes are set on your tensed frame, dark brows furrowed in concern as he takes a cautious step towards you.

“Sister y/n,” He says, carefully.

“W-what are you doing o-out of bed?” You ask through gritted teeth. Oh gosh, this hurts so much. You feel like you can’t move, like your entire body is stiff as a board and one wrong move will snap the wood across the grain where it’s the weakest and break it in half. You can’t even bear the thought of rolling over to try to get up.

Billy ignores your question, crouching down beside you with one knee pressing into the floor for stability. His hand caresses the wound on his side, and even through your pain you don’t miss the slight wince he gives even as his eyes rake over you with worry.

“Are you okay?” He asks. The hand that was just pressed to his side comes to cup your cheek.

You’re not sure why you’re noticing how large his hand is right now in this moment as it presses against your skin, his long fingers curling to press gently into the fabric of your veil just behind your ear. You should be chastising him, scolding him for getting out of the bed and possibly injuring himself further. He winced, you saw it. He’s in pain. But all you can focus on right now is the comfort his warm hand brings with your nerves this fried and body this agonized.

“It hurts,” You whimper.

“I know, Angel. I know.” His voice is soft and soothing, the low tone caressing your eardrums.

The sight of his eyes watering cuts through the pain for a moment, and you wonder if that’s really truly what you’re seeing or if maybe it’s your own tear filled eyes playing tricks on you. Your hand reaches up, intent on caressing his own cheek and swiping your thumb under his eye to see if it's actually wet, but he catches your hand in his and brings the back of your hand to his lips.

“You’ve done so much for me already,” He murmurs, lips brushing against the back of your hand. “Let me help you now, okay?”

Billy’s arms fit themselves under your body, one arm creeping underneath your tensed back while the other loops beneath your knees. Your hand clutches desperately at his shirt, fisting the material in between your fingers, as he lifts you from the floor. Your agonized gasp mixes with his own grunt of pain as he stands up with you held securely in his arms and pressed against his chest.

“Your stitches,” You try to say, but he just shushes you.

“Shh. Don’t worry about me. M’fine,”

He carries you to the bed, carefully placing you down on the mattress. The softness of it under your back doesn’t do much to alleviate the pain, but the anxious part of you is hopeful that it will the longer you lay on it. But then Billy walks around the other side, the bed dipping down under his weight as he settles down on it, and you’re instantly filled with shame.

You shouldn’t be in bed with a man. Ever. You gave up that possibility when you took your vows, promising that it's only His spirit that would ever get to be around an area as intimate and personal as your bed.

“I can’t,” You say, trying in vain to push yourself up, but the sharp pain you receive for your efforts makes you freeze. “Ah! It’s not– not proper.”

“Y/n, please,” He says, hand coming down to press lightly on your shoulder to keep you down. “Just for today.”

You almost miss it - the absence of the title when he says your name. And that’s inappropriate too. Not only are you alone with a man, in the same bed together, but he’s dropped the earned title to show your life’s calling entirely. You want to reprimand him immediately. Jump out of the bed and wiggle your finger in his face just to make him understand how wrong this is.

But his eyes are filled with worry, silently begging you to just lay there for a while, just until you feel better and the words die in your throat.

He’s a good man. He doesn’t mean any harm by it. It was just a mistake, the title lost among the honest worry you can see reflected in his eyes.

“You can’t take care of me if you can’t even walk,”

Your eyes close, a resigned sigh escaping your lips as you reluctantly press deeper into the soft sheets. He’s right. You need to recover so you can continue to aid in his recovery. You can’t do your job if you're bedridden.

“Just for today,” You settle.

Just for today.

That was your intention anyway. Just stay in the bed, enjoying the small pleasure of the soft mattress against your back, and wait for the pain to dissipate enough for you to be able to resume your nightly rests on the floor in the main room. You didn’t even want to stay in the bed all day. It was a hopeful thought, that you would feel better in just an hour's time, maybe two or three at the most, and then you would feel better enough to be able to get up and return to your duties as normal. But you realize now that the honest hope for that was just willful ignorance on your part.

You work in a clinic and you’ve dealt with your fair share of back injury patients during your lifetime. You know it’s not something easily overcome or relieved in a matter of hours - sometimes even days or weeks.

God can perform miracles and you see the blessings He puts in your path each and every day. This, unfortunately, is not one of His miracles.

The hours blend together - one turning into two, and then two into four, until you can’t take the stillness anymore.

You force it a few times, pushing through the pain and slower than ever making it up and off the bed as you try to go about your day like normal. Being on the bed makes it so much easier to roll off than trying to push yourself up from the floor without the help of gravity. Your back protests as you roll off the edge, Billy echoing its protests with actual words instead of shocks of pain as he tries to urge you back down, but you grit your teeth and slap his hand away.

There’s a small amount of guilt creeping up from how hard you smack his hand, but it's still buried so deep under the agony and the overwhelming frustration of feeling useless that you can’t even stand to give it a second thought.

Billy watches you as you slowly make your way around the room. It’s not too bad to walk as long as you don’t bend or twist your upper body at all, but it's all becoming much too obvious now how much one takes their movements for granted until they’re face to face with their sudden inability to make even the slightest normal movement.

The empty bedpan sits on its own short stool in the corner of the room, next to the usual chamberpot. It’s been hours now since either of you have had to use them and even though you still feel fine enough to forego the chamberpot, which… thank the Lord because you’re honestly not sure how you’re meant to position yourself correctly in order to use the pot or even the outhouse for that matter in your current condition - you’re sure Billy is probably ready to use it.

“Do you need the bedpan?” You ask him, already reaching for it.

It's another moment of stupidity on your part when you go to reach for it and bend down with your back instead of using your knees. Another dagger of pain shoots up your spine and your hands fly around you to cradle the ache.

Billy shoots up as the sharp gasp leaves your lips, the bed rustling and creaking underneath him as he tries to push himself up. Your head jerks at the sounds and your shout is echoing through the small room before you can even think about it.

“Sit down!”

He freezes at your words, big blue eyes wide as he stares at you, the anger and frustration in your command no doubt audible in the way your yell scratches your own throat.

“Sorry,” You say, softly. “Billy, I’m sorry. Just…” Your eyes shift to where he’s pressing his hand against his side, directly over the wound and the guilt from earlier creeps back full force.

He’s already moved today. Already possibly hurt himself more by getting out of bed to check on you and then carrying your full weight to the bed.

You didn’t even check it afterwards.

“Just stay down,” You continue. “Don’t move.”

Reluctantly, he relaxes back on the bed, just sitting there and watching you when he should be flat down so as to not put extra strain on the wound. You want to tell him that - that he should be resting because he’s injured and injuries can’t heal if he’s just moving about however he pleases. You’ve said it before and he’s listened, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to call out your hypocrisy this time.

“You sit down too,”

His words are soft, the timbre of his voice soothing and gentle but the words themselves are as demanding as they can be. Your eyes flick back up to his and you can see the unspoken threat in them.

If you keep pushing yourself, I will too.

“Billy, I can’t just sit around all day. I have things to do,”

“What things?”

“Things,” You press. “I have to– clean and make food. And care for you. That’s my job,”

“It’s clean, Sister,” He says, waving his arm around the mostly bare room. “There’s not much you can do. And we can wait for food, I’m not even hungry yet. What else are you tryin’ to do?”

Your eyes close and sigh, praying to God to give you patience because you know that your own stubbornness is as much a strength as it is a hindrance and you can quickly see that the same could be said for your young outlaw charge as well.

“Do you need to use the bedpan?” You repeat.

“No,” Billy says, and he sounds just as over the conversation as you feel. “M’fine.”

“Fine,”

He expects you to return to the bed, you can see in those eyes how he thinks it’s a battle he’s won. And perhaps he has, in a way. But you’re still in charge here and you’re not going to let him know that right away.

You turn on your heel, exiting the bedroom as swiftly as you can bear and Billy’s shout of protest races from the bed and follows you out in the main room.

“Sister y/n!”

“Hold your horses, Billy,” You call back, raising your hand up as if to wave him off. “I’m just grabbing something.”

Your bag is sitting next to your makeshift bed and you make sure to use your knees this time when you bend down to grab it. You can feel Billy’s gaze burning into your back as you rummage through it and even though there’s only so many supplies you were able to stuff into your bag before you left the clinic, you’re still relieved when you’re able to find what you’re looking for rather quickly.

Billy eyes the knitting needles and balls of yarn cradled in your arms as you bring them back to the bed. They follow the needles and yarn as you drop them on the mattress and then flick back up to yours, waiting for you to say something.

“Well, if I can’t be useful on my feet, I’m going to at least be productive off them,” You tell him. You raise your eyebrow, daring him to object.

He doesn’t. Instead, he brushes the supplies out of your way and motions to the newly cleared space with an open palm.

“Then I reckon you should get off those feet, Sister,” He smirks.

It feels almost like giving up as you settle back down on the bed. You know it’s not - you can only do what your body is allowing you to do. Pushing through the pain or discomfort is fine to a point, but only if there is truly a need for it and as much as you don’t want to admit it, Billy is right. There is no need for you to be up on your feet right now and continuing to give in to your stubbornness is doing more harm than good. The Lord has given your body the ability to give you physical clues as to what it needs. You thirst when you need water, hunger when you need food, and get tired when you need rest. It’s speaking to you now - telling you how the current sleeping environment you’ve put it in has not provided it with the rest and comfort it needs to recuperate from the day to day demands and now it's making you.

Your body is a temple, and you have to respect it and care for its needs.

But just sitting here still feels like failure. You’ve never been one to just sit around for so long and the past few days of doing just that has made your patience run a bit thin. You are a healer. You help people. Doing anything and everything you can for them in their moments of need and it's in those moments that you receive your strength. You didn’t expect to be running around from room to room here as often as you were while working in the clinic, but not having a choice in the matter is more difficult than you could have imagined.

The Lord has designed you to be His helper. Your life’s mission is to help people.

But now you’re finding it hard to even help yourself, and that alone feels like failure.

You close your eyes and send up a brief prayer, apologizing for your pause in the task that He’s granted you by inadvertently hurting the body He’s blessed you with and asking Him to grant you the strength and patience needed to overcome this hurdle.

When you open your eyes, Billy’s still staring at you.

“You seem like you got somethin’ weighin’ on your mind, Sister,” He says.

You shake your head, smiling kindly at him. He’s a sweet boy - kind and caring despite the fact that he’s been the victim of some of your frustration today. “Nothing you need burden yourself with, Billy,”

His eyes are earnest as he watches you, leaning in closer as he says, “Nothin’ you do could ever be a burden to me,”

“Oh, is that so?” You say, the corner of your lips tugging mischievously as you grab your knitting needles and a new ball of yarn. You grab the free end of the yarn, pulling the starting length enough to give you enough to work with before tossing the ball at Billy. His hands are quick to grab it despite being unprepared for the throw and another small smile creeps on his face as he holds the soft sphere in his hand. “Then you won’t mind holding that and making sure my yarn doesn’t knot as I work, right?”

“No, Ma’am. Not at all,”

It’s cozy, you have to admit - working in silence as you cast the yarn onto your needles. The yarn is soft as your fingers brush against the developing chunk of project, and Billy must think so too since you can see how his thumb keeps swiping across the ball kept in his hand. He’s a good helper, keeping the working end of the yarn held loosely between his pointer and middle finger, just enough to guide it and prevent any catching or knots.

You’re making a blanket for the clinic. The rushed packing job almost saw that you had no form of productive entertainment on this trip, but thankfully Sister Ann had enough wits about her to suggest taking your knitting materials. Some of the blankets in the clinic are old and worn, some even well-loved enough to have holes in them. You won’t throw them away. That’s wasteful and you’ll continue to mend them until you can’t. But the clinic can be a sad enough place already, and if you can brighten someone’s day with a blanket that’s not ripped beyond belief and put back together again by the power of God and some well placed stitches, then you’d like to make that happen for them.

Plus, winter will be coming soon. And things can get mighty cold around here.

Billy is content to just watch you, eyes fixated on the movements of your hands and the way the yarn is twisted and eased into the blanket. At one point, you ask if Billy wants to knit too. You have a spare set of knitting needles in your bag and you figure that it might be funner for him to knit too instead of just watching you twist yarn over itself for hours on end. You could teach him if his Ma never did. Knitting is a valuable life skill. The ability to create new clothes or household goods from practically nothing is priceless.

But he shakes his head with a polite ‘no, thank you”.

“Why not?” You ask. “You don’t want to learn?”

“It’s not that,” He replies, still playing with the yarn ball in his hand. “I’d just rather watch you. It’s calming.”

Calming is an interesting way to describe watching someone knit. It’s calming for you - you enjoy it and it's a nice hobby along with being a practical skill to have under your belt. But watching someone knit? You don’t think you could do that for very long without trying to grab a pair of knitting needles for yourself.

“My Ma used to knit,” He says after a while. “I used to watch her make us sweaters or scarves for the winter. I used to hold her yarn too. Just like this.” A small smile pulls at his mouth at the memory. “I would respin the yarn for her when the balls would come undone. It was calming, just sittin’ there with her, in her presence, watching her repeat the patterns over and over.”

His fingers slide across the ball a bit, feeling the texture under his fingertips before he pulls a little more yarn from the ball to give your working strand some more slack.

“This feels like that,” He continues. “Here with you right now makes me feel like I did with her. At peace.”

Your chest clenches at his words and your hand closest to him drops one of the needles before reaching up and resting it on his shoulder.

“I’m honored,” You tell him. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

His eyes flick down to where your hand is cradling his shoulder before they meet yours again, and you're shocked to see a sort of desperation in them with they lock on yours.

“I always pictured I would do it for my own wife one day,” He whispers. “Supportin’ her while she makes somethin’ beautiful for our kids to wear. Or somethin’ warm for them to snuggle up in.”

“You will,” You say. Your hand moves from his shoulder to cup his cheek before you move to grab the knitting needles again. “The Lord will bless you with someone wonderful, Billy. I know He will.”

You hear him hum next to you, but you keep your eyes forward and focused on your project. You know what that hum means.

“Don’t think I need the Lord’s help much,” He says. “I think I can manage just fine on my own.”

The blanket quickly comes to life under your fingers, skillful movements manipulating the yarn into a solid and beautifully woven product that you think will look so homely laid out on the beds of the clinic. Sometimes things can get so boring, bland colors and a too sanitary palette can make an already dreary situation all the more woeful. The pretty blue of the blanket would make a nice contrast to all the white and gray.

Billy watches as you work and keeps the yarn from getting tangled when the balls reach their end and loosen from their coiled form. You only stop a few times throughout the day - once to eat some quickly made oatmeal, once so you can check on Billy’s wound and replace the bandage, and a few times so you could relieve yourselves. By the time the yarn balls you’ve pulled from your bag have been knitted into the blanket, it’s dark out and you have only the small lamp by the bedside table to give you light.

The blanket rests in your lap, knitting needles still in your hand as you look towards the bedroom door and out to where you can see your sleeping area still set up.

“You’re sleeping on the bed,” He says, firmly, as if he can read your mind and see the thoughts you haven’t even fully formed yet.

It’s for the best. You know it’s for the best. The Lord wouldn’t strike you down for doing what you have to do to let yourself heal, even if it means sharing a bed with a man.

And still… “I shouldn’t,”

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, already sliding a leg over the side of the bed and you’re grabbing hold of his arm before you can think about what you’re doing.

“No!” You shout, fingers digging hard into his bicep. “You’re injured! You need to stay in the bed.”

He pauses, eyes boring into yours. “You are too,”

“I know,” You say, releasing his arm. Your palm gently rubs over the area you grabbed, trying to soothe any hurt you might have caused when you grabbed him. “I know. I’ll stay.”

He relaxes at your words, lifting his leg back on the bed as he leans back against the pillow.

“I’ll be respectful,” He whispers and the blue of his eyes shines brightly even in the dim glow of the lamp. “I swear.”

You follow his lead, carefully tossing the knitted blanket on the floor and laying back slowly, being mindful of your back as you rest your head on the balled up blanket you snagged from your sleeping spot the last time you got up to make dinner.

“I know you will,”

You haven’t known him for long, but you feel like if there is any man you can trust to be respectful in a situation like this - it’s Billy.

You can see God in him, even if he can’t see Him within himself.

But it still feels weird, feels wrong - sleeping next to another man. And you turn your head to the side, away from Billy, so he doesn’t see the silent tears that flow down your cheek and into the fabric where your face presses harder against the blanket.

You pray until you fall asleep.

There’s a hand on you when you wake up in the middle of the night.

It’s still dark in the room, your groggy eyes opening to pitch black and even though you can’t see anything, you can feel that you’ve flipped over at some point during your sleep.

It gives your back some relief, being on your stomach like this. And the hand gently rubbing up and down the length of your spine helps to bring even more relief. The hand is big, taking up a wide expanse along your back and the soothing back and forth motion of it helps to keep you in the blissful fog of sleep.

You find that your back does feel a little better come the morning thanks to the Lord's healing touch.

Taglist: @queenofshinigamis

#𝑇𝑎𝑙 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 ✎#billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader smut #billy the kid x reader #dark!billy the kid #tw: non con #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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adverbally · 1 month

Text

You Tattered Me, You Tethered Me to You

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Lake” | wc: 1,728 | rated: E | cw: sexual content, use of the f-slur | tags: first time, experienced eddie, internalized homophobia, steve’s sexuality crisis, hints of what could be considered subspace and sub drop, set probably in late spring 1985 | title and inspiration from “Lake Song” by The Decemberists

Come to me now, and on this station wagon window / Set the ghost of your two footprints / That they might haunt me when you’re gone / And when the light broke dawn, you were forever gone / But I remember you: you were full / You were full and sweet as honeydew

———

It’s not the first time Steve has fooled around like this, but it kinda feels like it as Eddie grinds their hips together and bites him.

They’re in the back of Eddie’s van, parked next to a shed overlooking Lover’s Lake, and Eddie’s weight is pushing him down into the pile of blankets as he sucks a hickey into Steve’s collarbone. It’s quiet outside but loud in the van between their heavy breathing and the wet noises of Eddie’s mouth on his skin.

It’s never felt like this before.

Not with Nancy or Tommy or any of those faceless hookups. They never made his blood boil in his veins, bubbling through his body like the carbonation in a glass of Coke. He didn’t have to hold onto their hair for dear life as they trailed bite marks across his chest and shoulders. They hadn’t left his dick a leaky mess inside his underwear just from kissing him.

Then Eddie’s thigh is pressing up against Steve’s cock through his pants, swallowing the moan that comes out of Steve’s mouth as he kisses him gracelessly.

It has to be something about Eddie that’s specially designed to drive Steve crazy. He just wants more.

With clumsy hands, he pulls at the hem of Eddie’s shirt, tugging it upward until Eddie gets the message and sits back on his heels to pull it off completely. The sheer confidence in his movements, the way he looks down at Steve like he knows exactly how good he looks, is almost hotter than the pale expanse of his bare torso. The sight makes Steve’s mouth go dry.

“Wow,” he says.

Eddie smiles, not the seductive smirk of a moment ago but a genuinely amused quirk of his kiss-swollen lips. “I don’t think I’ve made anyone speechless before. It’s doing wonders for my ego.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gorgeous.” Steve sits up too and rests his hands on Eddie’s hips, just above the waistband of his jeans.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Eddie’s grip is firm but gentle as he wraps a hand around the back of Steve’s neck. When he pulls him in for another kiss, it feels possessive, like he’s claiming Steve as his.

It leaves Steve lightheaded, swaying back into Eddie’s orbit when he pulls away. “Fuck,” he breathes.

“Ask me nicely and I might.” There he goes with that damn mouth again, latching onto Steve’s neck, licking a wet stripe over the two moles just below his jawline.

“Please?” Steve’s fingers drift toward the button fly of Eddie’s jeans, scratching through his happy trail to hear his sharp inhale.

Eddie doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes Steve’s hands aside and unfastens the buttons himself before yanking the pants down his legs along with his underwear. It should be awkward considering he can’t stand upright in the van, but he’s clearly done this before.

Steve tries not to burn with jealousy at the thought of someone else touching Eddie. Of Eddie touching them back.

“Hey.” Eddie lightly smacks the side of Steve’s thigh with an open palm to get his attention. “You gonna take yours off, too?”

“Yeah, right, sorry.” Steve leans back to unzip and unbutton and shimmy the fabric past his hips. Eddie pulls him free when his boxers get twisted around his ankles.

They get distracted by kissing again. Well, Steve does and he suspects Eddie is just following his lead. But Eddie feels so fucking good pressed up against him, skin to skin, lazily rolling his hips in Steve’s lap as he licks into Steve’s mouth.

Steve can’t keep his hands still. They roam over the smooth skin of Eddie’s back, the coarse hair covering his thighs, the scars and tattoos that dot his body almost at random. He’s sweaty, too. It’s too hot in the van as it retains the warmth of the spring sun, but it just adds to the dreamlike quality of the situation.

“Have you ever done this with a guy before?” Eddie murmurs.

He’s not sure he can speak right now so Steve just shakes his head. No, clumsy handjobs with Tommy Hagan could never prepare him for this.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Steve must look like an idiot, staring up at Eddie with his mouth open. He wants, of course he does, but he isn’t sure what. It’s like when you’re hungry but you don’t know what you want to eat.

Eddie must take his hesitation as a refusal. “Or I could fuck you,” he offers.

Oh, that’s…

His desire must show on his face because Eddie smiles. “You’re full of surprises, Harrington.” He leans over and fishes a small tube of lube out from under a pillow.

The use of his last name shouldn’t sting so much. “Call me Steve,” he tells him, hoping it doesn’t sound too much like a plea.

“Sure thing, Steve,” he agrees. Eddie climbs out of his lap and sits with his back against the wall of the van. He doesn’t need to say anything to beckon Steve over; he’s already moving, straddling Eddie’s thighs in a reversal of their previous position.

Things get a little blurry after that.

“Relax for me, Steve,” Eddie croons, rubbing slick circles around his hole so he can start opening him up.

“That’s it, Steve,” he praises when Steve starts rocking back on the fingers inside him.

“Patience, Steve,” he scolds gently as Steve whines for more.

“Okay, Steve, nice and slow,” he instructs, one hand guiding his cock and the other gripping Steve’s hip as he sinks down with a gasp.

“Fuck, baby.”

“So fucking tight.”

“Such a good boy.”

“Ah, sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last—”

Steve doesn’t want it to end. He’s warm and full and Eddie’s arms are strong around him and nobody has ever wanted him this much before and he doesn’t know if anyone ever will again. He thinks he comes, sensation arcing electric beneath his skin, and Eddie’s hips stutter, too, but Steve doesn’t stop moving, desperate to drag this out as long as he can, and then Eddie is saying—

“Jesus Christ, Steve, wait, too much,” he moans, nails digging into Steve’s thighs in an attempt to force him into stillness.

It works, but the sharp pain has the unfortunate side effect of restarting Steve’s brain. He’s not sure when it had shut off, exactly, and the sudden awareness when his senses come back online is overwhelming.

He smells the musk of sweat and sex. He hears his own gasping breaths. He feels the tackiness of come and lube between their bellies, dripping out of him when Eddie pulls out. He tastes the salt of Eddie’s sweat, the weird nothingness of spit, a little bit of blood where he must have bitten his lip. He sees the foggy window over Eddie’s head, covered in his own handprints from bracing himself on the glass, and Eddie’s concerned face in the twilight.

“Are you okay?” Eddie is frowning at him, one hand rubbing up and down Steve’s flank, almost like he’s petting him. It’s probably supposed to be comforting but it just makes Steve feel like a dog. Like some pathetic little creature, something to be pitied.

“I, um.” Fuck, Steve really doesn’t want to cry in front of Eddie, but his eyes are welling up. Where is this coming from? He had felt so good just a minute ago. Now he’s sticky and empty and cold, and he wants Eddie to fix it. To take care of him. “I think– I have to go.”

His thighs are sore when he moves and he hates that he’ll have no choice but to be reminded of this tomorrow. Steve shoves the blankets around to dig his clothes out of the mess of fabric. The sooner he’s dressed, the sooner he can get home and shower and try to forget this ever happened.

“Steve?” Eddie hasn’t moved, clearly trying to give Steve some space, but he actually sounds worried. “Did I do something wrong?”

No, Steve wants to scream, it’s me, I’m the wrong one. His stomach churns as he yanks his shirt back on, shoves his legs into his pants, stuffs his feet into his sneakers.

He startles when Eddie lays a hand on his arm. “Hey, you’re freaking me out.” His eyes are big and brown and shiny in the dim light. They feel even deeper than Lover’s Lake. Steve kind of wants to drown in them.

“I’m really sorry.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “You didn’t– I shouldn’t have done this.”

Any warmth in Eddie’s face immediately evaporates. “Seriously? This was your idea, man.”

“I know. It’s not you,” he tries to explain, even as his throat feels like it’s closing up.

“You know, being a fag isn’t contagious,” Eddie spits. “I didn’t, like, cast a spell on you to make you beg for my dick.”

Steve raises his voice. “I know!” Jesus, how is he supposed to make Eddie understand something he can’t even understand himself?

“Get out. You’re not gonna sit here and yell at me in my own van.” Eddie looks deadly serious. When Steve doesn’t move, he growls, “Get. Out.”

The unspoken threat sends Steve scrambling for the rear doors. He stumbles out into the not-quite darkness, the last hints of the setting sun providing enough light for him to see Eddie’s face twisted in fury.

“Get your drugs somewhere else. Have a nice life,” are his parting words.

Steve slams the door shut. The sound echoes across the lake, almost like it's mocking him, and silence after is even worse. He stomps down to the edge of the water, stares into the muddy shallows until his tears create ripples across the lake’s surface. Listens to Eddie’s van start up and drive away.

It’s better like this. Right? What kind of loser is he, panting after the first guy to fuck him, like a virgin in a romance novel? Like he could have any kind of future with Eddie Munson. No, this way Steve gets to keep what remains of his dignity. Eddie is the only one who’ll know how pathetic he is, and he won’t tell anyone else.

Steve stays there at the shoreline for a long time, watching the moon rise over the water and trying to forget about how right it felt when Eddie touched him.

#steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mine

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cleoluvrr · 10 months

Text

don't fall for monsters (rafe cameron x reader)

it was the ultimate disguise, i really stayed with such a monster

WARNINGS: dark!rafe, mentions of drowning, mentions of past murder, coercion, domestic violence, manipulation, angst

masterlist

your eyes burned from the flashing lights of red, white, and blue. neighbors stood on their porches and peeked through the blinds to watch the commotion, nothing better to do than involve themselves in small town drama. you could feel every pair of eyes stuck on your shivering frame; wet hair and tearstained face a sight to see.

the towel wrapped around your shoulders barely did anything to keep you warm in the cool, fall evening. it was there to keep the water from soaking through your clothes and nothing more. the smell of salt water clung to your hair and the longer you stood there, the more nauseous you felt from the scent.

seeing rafe cameron in the back of a paddy wagon did nothing to soothe your nerves, nor did the distant sound of his father speaking to shoupe just a few yards away. the two men kept sneaking glances at you from afar and made it obvious the topic of the choice happened to be you. rafe, however, never broke his gaze, even when you tore yours away. the fury in his eyes burned through you like a laser and the blowout that would take place at some point or another was inevitable.

you could be sick.

“hey, sweetheart?” a lower-ranked officer approached you cautiously, obviously not wanting to startle you. “do you mind coming with me for a little bit? just need to ask you some questions, is all.”

the older, blonde female officer came into your view for a moment when you side-eyed her, an unwelcome hand landing on your shoulder. she slowly removed it after feeling your sharp gaze on her.

“i have nothing to say.” you replied monotonously. your face lacked any emotion and it probably made her feel uncomfortable from the way she swallowed dryly.

“honey, i know–”

“you don’t know anything, actually.” you cut her off before she could speak any further. “and don’t call me honey.” leaving the cop where she stood, you walked over to the steps of your house and took a seat. she was left standing there like an idiot and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t overcome with the shock of what landed you in this predicament.

rafe tried to drown you.

well, maybe he was just trying to scare you, but there was no arguing against the fact he held you head beneath the water and made sure you couldn’t breathe.

your boyfriend had been lashing out for weeks, taking all his anger and frustration out on you. the only reason you invited him over was to talk about things because you simply couldn’t take it anymore. sure, you two have had rough patches before–but this situation had gotten completely out of hand. you loved him too much to end it, though, so you thought this was the best option.

you expected to get to the bottom of things, not for rafe to confess to you a great sin.

he told you about what happened on the tarmac, how he murdered sheriff peterkin. the weight was dragging him down and he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore–he had to tell someone. you understood, in a weird way. that wouldn’t be something you could carry around either.

you just wished that someone wasn’t you.

how could you walk around knowing the man you love is a killer? he’s the reason his sister is lost at sea, why the entire town was chasing after an innocent kid and not him. it was a mystery to you why he thought you’d take this information well, but the way he reacted when you said you were going to the cops shouldn’t have surprised you.

the moment rafe dragged you out of the back door to the water behind your house, you were sure you’d suffer the same fate as peterkin. when he threw you to your knees and dug his nails into your scalp, roots burning as he fisted the hair with all his strength. you begged him to stop, told him you loved him–anything that would snap him out of it. at some point you screamed for help, and someone had to have heard you from how loud you were. they had to have heard you because one minute you had a nose full of water, and the next you were coughing your guts out in the grass while two neighbors knocked rafe off of you and held him down.

they were the ones that called the cops, not you. your own phone was sitting upstairs in your room, shattered and unusable after being thrown against the wall by rafe.

so here you sat, a bunch of strangers watching your house as the kook king argues with the sheriff about what to do with his son. ward didn’t particularly like rafe very much, but he’d be damned if he let him go to jail over this. you knew this for a fact.

ward would burn every bridge in the country to make sure his family remained at the top. he was willing to let a teenage boy die before letting rafe take the fall for a murder he committed. ward cameron had the money and influence that most people could only dream of, and he knew how to use it to his advantage. if it meant throwing you to the wolves to save his son, he’d cover you in rabbit’s blood and send you to their den on a platter.

“y/n?”

the sound of your name pulled you out of your dazed state, the familiar voice coming from directly in front of you. ward cameron watched you with worry from where he stood, not that you really cared. he could pretend he was worried about you all he wanted, you already knew his true colors.

“are you okay, sweetie? can you tell me what happened?” he lowered himself into a squat to meet you at eye level. his brows met in the middle and he had deep stress lines decorating his aged face. “what’s all this about?”

sniffling, you dropped your head between your shoulders for a moment. you shook it from side to side before meeting his gaze again. he looked confused by the dry chuckle that left your mouth, clearly unsure of how to interpret the reaction.

“what’s this all about…” you laughed humorlessly again, face blank and eyes cold. “your son tried to drown me, mr. cameron–i’m sure you’ve heard what this is all about.”

the silence between you and the older man was heavy with tension. he glanced back at shoupe, who was watching the conversation with scrutiny from afar, and rafe in the seat of the police car. his eyes met yours again, this time worried for a different reason.

you already knew what he was going to say.

“i’m sure it was just a misunderstanding–”

“a misunderstanding?” you repeated in disbelief. “are you serious? look at me!”

his eyes raked over your dampened, disheveled frame. he ran a rough hand through his hair stressfully before speaking.

“look…i know you’re upset right now. i do, really.” ward's tongue pokes out to moisten his slightly chapped lips as a result of the chill wind gently blowing over the area. “but just think about what you’re going to say first.”

“i’m not gonna snitch, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.” you wave him off annoyedly. the cameron patriarch looked at you in shock, like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

you were pissed. enraged. you couldn’t believe that rafe tried to drown you and it hurt to think about how he was willing to take you out just to keep a secret you never asked him to reveal in the first place. how ward was more concerned about covering his son’s ass than he was about him trying to take your life.

so many thoughts flooded your mind and you wanted nothing more than to take your brain out for a few minutes of peace.

even with the anger and fear that consumed you, snitching on rafe was out of the question. not only because it would never go anywhere, but because deep down; you knew you could never do that to him. you loved him too much, and that truth sickened you to admit to yourself.

before he could speak again, shoupe approached the two of you faster than you could blink. his shoulders were squared and his hands rested on his belt as if he was ready for defense. the man gave ward a long, heated glare before he stared down at your seated frame with a sympathetic gaze.

“everything alright over here?” he questions, obviously accusing ward of something along the lines of witness intimidation with just four words.

“everything is fine, shoupe.” ward doesn’t give you the chance to answer, immediately interjecting as your lips parted to speak. the sheriff cuts his eyes at him momentarily before returning to you.

“i was speaking to the young lady, ward.”

you avoided eye contact with both of the men. you were far too occupied with the chipping polish on your fingernails to bother with whatever strange tension they had between them. the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you made your skin prickle up and you wanted nothing more than to take a shower and pretend this night never happened.

“everything’s fine.” you kicked at the rocks beneath your feet, voice soft and disinterested.

“are you sure?” shoupe did not believe a word coming out of your mouth. you didn’t either, but there was no point in telling him that. “is there a reason i have three witnesses saying they found rafe holding you under the water?”

“nothing happened, officer shoupe. i fell and rafe was helping me–i’m not the best swimmer.”

ward maintained a tense posture as he stood beside shoupe and you wanted so badly to roll your eyes–or scream. you almost wanted to say something just to see the man go pale in the face, but you resisted. it wasn’t because you were afraid of ward; the man was the least of your worries. the idea of rafe going free even if you came clean made you sick to your stomach. that was enough to shut you up.

the two men that helped you were giving their statements to some random officer, and you prayed for the pair of them. whatever happened to them after the lights went off wasn’t your problem, but rafe would certainly handle them in whatever way he saw fit. the knot on his forehead and the dried-blood leaking from his nose would serve as a reminder to get his revenge.

“that’s not what those young men told me, y/n. they clearly saw him doing something to hurt you.”

“it’s dark, shoupe. they didn’t ‘clearly see’ anything.” your eyes snapped up to meet him. the agitation was starting to eat away at you and you just wanted everyone to get off your yard. “i just told you what happened, so what’s the issue?”

“sweetie, you don’t need to be scared of anything–”

you stood to your full height abruptly, both of the older men stepping back from the sudden movement. rafe’s staring was turning your stomach and shoupe’s accent was becoming headache inducing.

“he’s my boyfriend, i’m not scared of him.” you cut him off mid-sentence. it was a lie and you both knew it, but his pushing was irritating you more than ward’s looming presence overseeing the interaction. “i fell, and he helped me. those guys misunderstood–what else do you want me to say? that’s all that happened.”

they watched you closely as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively. it was getting harder to keep it all together and crying in front of the already unconvinced man isn’t going to help your case at all.

“you guys can go.” you pulled the towel off your shoulders and folded it into a messy rectangle. the wet hair falling down your back made you cringe internally. “i’m sorry y’all came out here for nothing…i’ll try to stay away from the water at night.”

shoupe’s only response was a reluctant nod, eyes glancing over at ward before he stepped away. you watched as he stalked over to the cruiser holding rafe, releasing him after speaking to the officer keeping watch over him. those steely, blue eyes remained on you the entire time they unlocked his cuffs, jaw locked and shoulders tense with anger.

even though you just saved his ass, although it wasn’t your first choice, he was greatly displeased. if ward noticed the way his son looked at you, he didn’t say anything to make it known. the audience that had gathered looked confused at his release, the men that saved you especially so.

with each step rafe took, you could feel your heart skip a beat. dread washed over you. even though there was nothing he could do with the police watching like hawks, you knew something was coming sooner or later. he rubbed at the red marks encircling his wrists from the tight cuffs, but he was totally fixated on you.

it sent a chill down your spine but you couldn’t show that; not in front of all these people.

“baby…” you said cautiously. stopping in front of you, the heat of his body warmed you from a foot away. “are you okay? i didn’t mean for all this to happen.”

you don’t wait for him to respond. rather, you step forward with open arms and wrap them around his lean body, tightly embracing him. you were sure you heard a few gasps in the distance and ward’s breath hitched from his spot a few feet away.

rafe doesn’t hesitate to return the gesture, arms snug atop your shoulders as he rests his chin on your still damp hair. he rocks you back and forth, the swaying motion hardly soothing when you feel the bile trying to fight its way out of your throat.

“i know, princess, it’s okay.” his voice vibrated against your scalp. “i’m sorry i hurt you...i-i wasn’t thinking.”

you nodded your head, humming in understanding. you didn’t believe it for a second, but you just wanted to pretend nothing ever happened. it was easier to live when you didn’t have to think about the love of you life trying to drown you in your own house

“rafe.” ward interrupted the reunion with a stern voice. you felt his head raise to look at his father but his arms remained tight around you. “we need to go now. give the girl some space tonight.”

rafe nodded at his father; you could tell from the way his chin brushed against your skull. his hand took your head into their hold as he tilted it up to make you look at him directly. though there was a familiar softness to his face, there was something in those pretty, blue eyes that unsettled your mind. he leaned down to place a careful peck upon your lips, so gentle that it felt like a breeze ghosted across the skin.

“i love you.” he whispered against your slightly parted mouth.

“i love you, too.” you responded just as softly.

he nodded his head, lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks. he adjusts himself to lean in close to your ear, preparing to say something just from you to hear.

“i love you so much,” his breathe hits the shell of your ear in a way that makes you tingle. “but i will kill you if you tell anyone. i don’t wanna have to do that, but i will…so don’t put me in that position, alright baby? don’t get involved.”

you nearly froze, but with everyone watching your every move you had no choice but to react calmly and nod your head.

placing a kiss on your cheek, rafe pulls away completely. you wait for him to turn his back before you briskly walk up the steps to enter your own house. you were met with pin drop silence and dim lights when you opened the door, immediately shutting it behind you as you stepped inside.

you barely got the door locked before you fell to the floor in anguish. silent shakes racked your body as you muffled the audible cries with a hand pressed tight against your lips. the wooden frame of the front door was hard and cold against your back. you lost your breath from the strength of your heart-wrenching sobs. if someone pressed their ear to the door you were sure they’d be able to hear the pain and fear spilling out of you. everyone had invaded your privacy enough tonight to last a lifetime and you couldn’t find it in you to care.

he put his hands on you. the same hands he used to murder peterkin with. the same hands he used to hold you beneath the water while you beggar for your life. he kissed you with the mouth he used to threaten you with. used that mouth to tell he loved you before saying he’d kill you. violated wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe how you felt.

betrayed? disgusted?

how could he live a life like this? how could he drag you into his mess and then tell you not to get involved? how could he look in the mirror and not feel like an animal?

then again, you must ask yourself–

how could you let yourself love a monster like rafe cameron?

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