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marvelwitchergilmore · 6 months ago

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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.

2K notes · View notes

moremaybank · 4 months ago

Note

Any Dad!JJ? You’re just one of the best at writing him.

dad!jj for the soul !!!!! i hope you enjoy, angel! i really enjoyed writing this one! 🤍

jj's elated when he sees his six year old babygirl, avery, walking out of her classroom. it's three-thirty on the dot, a time jj looks forward to daily when he picks up your daughter and takes her to work with him while they wait for you to meet them there after work.

avery reaches him, and he crouches down to her height so he can press a kiss to her cheek. "hi, babygirl."

"hi, daddy!"

he loves how chipper his little girl gets when she's around him. she lets it be known that she adores his presence, and that's what he's always dreamed of as a parent.

"mama killed it on your hair today," he says. he yanks gently at one of the braids you'd put into her hair earlier this morning. "look at these. phew. think my babygirl's a model."

she giggles at her father's affectionate words, cheeks heating with love. her squeals grow louder when jj scoops her up and makes his way to his truck. he buckles her into her booster seat, ruffling up the top of her hair playfully before shutting the door and getting into the driver's seat.

"hey, daddy?"

"'sup, aves?" he asks, pulling out of the parking lot and starting on the journey to the auto shop.

"what colours do boys like best?"

he arches a brow. "what d'ya mean, sweet girl?"

"dunno...like what colour do you like most on mama?"

"hmmm," jj says, pondering out loud. "that's a hard one, baby. i think your mama looks good in everythin'."

an adorable huff escapes her pursed lips. "daddy. 'm serious. you have to pick one."

the truck zooms down the road, passing by avery's favourite fast food joint. jj can't help but speed up just a smidge, hoping and praying that she won't look out the window and wrangle a chicken finger combo out of him. 'cause then he'd have to get one for her. he's never said no to his princess and he doesn't plan on changing that any time soon.

"mm, i guess i'd say red. i like when she wears that matching lipstick too."

jj looks up at the rear view mirror, catching the way avery nods before a presumable heat takes over her face. the dimple she'd gotten from him peeks through as she smiles to herself.

"what're you smilin' about?"

"nothing, daddy. i just think i'm gonna wear red for the dance tomorrow."

he arches a brow, but he doesn't push her on her answer. "whatever you want, babygirl."

˖ . ݁ 𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

jj hears the click-clacking of high heels against the floors of the auto-shop, and he doesn't need to wheel out from underneath the station wagon he's working on to know it's you.

"hi, mommy!" avery greets cheerfully, getting off the spinning chair jj had secured for her from the break room. she runs over to you as quickly as her smaller feet can manage, and you meet her with an equally thrilled grin. you pick her up and squeeze her into a tight hug.

"hi, baby." you smooth down some of her frizz. "how was school?"

"it was good. chrissy shared her chocolate bar with me, and kyle gave me a flower at recess."

neither of you can see it, but jj makes a face under the car.

kyle? who the fuck was kyle?

"he's a good best friend to you, baby," you tell her. "did you thank him?"

"yes. and he's not my best friend anymore, mama. he's my boyfriend."

this time, you do see jj's reaction. or, rather, hear it anyway.

"what?!"

something that sounds like a bang rings through the air, followed by a shit (to which your daughter snickers, always one to find her father hilarious). then, he rolls out from beneath the vehicle, rubbing his forehead to ease the sharp pain. his eyes find your daughter's, though, and he's as stern as you've ever seen him.

"aves— you can't have a boyfriend!"

"daddy, i'm six. i'm not a baby," avery reminds him, sounding every bit like a teenager instead of her actual age. the sass never failed to make you smile.

just like her daddy.

"yes, you are still a baby! my baby!"

"j—" you interject.

"nah. nope. no way."

"why don't you go back over there and colour, angel?" she nods, and you set her down, watching as she runs back to her chair. she takes a sip of her apple juice, bringing her attention back to her artwork.

deciding she's not at all bothered by jj's theatrics, you walk over to him and help him stand. you look up into his cerulean eyes when he towers above you. "babe, relax. she's six."

"exactly! she's a baby! she can't have a boyfriend. s'just not happenin'."

you give him a knowing smile, your arms looping around the back of his neck. "you were my boyfriend when we were six," you remind him. "don't think you found anything wrong about that back then."

he frowns, but pulls you in closer by your hips anyway. no matter what, any time he's around you without touching you, it just seems like a waste.

"that's different. i was a nice boy."

you both realize avery's been listening quietly when she chimes in. "kyle's nice too, daddy. he kisses my cheek everyday at the end of school."

she says it like it's a fact. like kyle never misses out on what infuriatingly sounds like a tradition to jj.

jj thinks he's having a stroke.

"he's puttin' his lips on you, now?!" his forehead falls to your shoulder, and he slumps against you like the six-foot baby he is. "oh god, i think i'm gonna be sick." a beat passes, and then he distances himself from you. the sulk is still prominent on his face, and now, it's probably permanent. he pulls at his collar, shifting uncomfortably as he tries to fan himself off. "'m i sweating?"

avery hops down from her chair, strutting over to her father and tugging at the leg of his coveralls, silently requesting that he crouch down to her height. of course, jj immediately falls in line.

"don't be mad, daddy."

"wait, wait, wait— is kyle the reason you're wearin' red tomorrow?!"

"don't worry, daddy." she pats his cheek like he's the one who needs reassurance. to be fair, he clearly is. "kyle's nice. just like you."

and with that, she trots off back to her chair with a cheshire cat smile, clearly feeling accomplished.

"yeah. he better be," jj mutters bitterly, standing back up.

your hands reach out to grab a hold of your husband again, and it draws his attention back to you. your hands frame his face and you give him a smile. "you're gonna be a total nightmare when she grows up and gets a boyfriend or girlfriend for real."

"damn right, i will. like i said, she's my baby."

you raise a brow. "i thought i was your baby?"

his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then his mouth forms into a smirk. "see now, she's my baby. but you're my baby." his hands migrate down to your ass and he gives you a squeeze. "you pickin' up what i'm puttin' down?"

"oh, i think i am."

concepts ; concepts (ii)

869 notes · View notes

not-neverland06 · 2 months ago

Text

𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝚘𝚐

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

Summary: Hosea's meddling has you and Arthur heading into the local town of Valentine. You're on a mission to get some clothes of your own. And Arthur's looking to help some woman named Mary. You don't know who she is, but she must be important for him to leave you all on your own in a strange town for the whole day. One thing is certain, you're not forgiving Mr. Morgan for this anytime soon.

You feel Arthur’s worried stare boring into the side of your head and let out a heavy sigh. “I am perfectly capable of driving a wagon, Mr. Morgan.” You turn towards him with a frown and his face falls flat. Like he hasn’t just been drilling holes into you for the past five minutes.

“I know, I know.” His brows furrow and he shoots you a worried look. “Still, you don’t have much experience.”

“Oh,” you huff and glare at him, tugging the reins a little to the right on accident. “Would you calm down?”

“Tree,” he says, eyes darting forward. You shake your head and he rips the reins out of your hand, “Tree, woman!” He doesn’t exactly shout at you, but you still feel like you’re being yelled at. Finally turning forward you see what he was saying.

“Oops,” you whisper, watching him direct the horses back onto the trail and away from the trees. “Well, it’s not my fault these ridiculous things don’t know not to walk into trees,” you argue, motioning at the horses.

“Hey,” he chuckles, “don’t blame the horses.”

You see Hosea lean forward from the back of the wagon. He peers between you both with a smile. “Having fun up here?” He asks you, nodding towards an overbearing Arthur.

You roll your eyes with a faux pout, “Not really. Arthur here can’t seem to wedge that stick out of his ass.” Arthur turns to glare at you and you nudge his calf with your foot playfully, giving him a sly grin. He fights it, but you see the way the corners of his lips twitch up.

Hosea glances between you both, something mischievous playing on his face. “What’re you up to?” You ask, suspicion brewing as you practically see a plan forming in his head.

Hosea sends you a smile that does nothing to assuage your reservations. “Nothing, nothing. Arthur,” he chides, turning towards the man, “let her try for a while.”

Arthur sighs through his nose, you see him glance out the side of his eye at you with a perturbed expression. You don’t know why he’s so adamant about not letting you drive. You only crashed the wagon once and that wasn’t your fault. The horses got spooked by a cougar as you were going down the mountain. Still, he hasn’t let go of it.

You know he’s not used to denying Hosea, but he takes too long to relent. Just as he’s starting to hand the reins over, the wagon bumps into something. The left side of it flies up, sending you sliding down the bench towards Arthur. His hand shoots out, bracing you so you don’t tip out of the wagon. You can’t help but flush at the feeling of his arm around you, caught off guard by the reaction.

You push that down, deciding to address it later. The left side dips down now and the horses come to a bumpy stop. You let out a rough sigh, turning around and glancing behind the wagon. Arthur drove you all into a large rock, knocking the wheel off the wagon.

You can’t help but bark a laugh at his expense. “Well, Mr. Morgan, looks like I’m not the only one in need of some driving lessons.”

He takes his hat off, running his hands through his hair and glaring at you. “Enough,” he grouses. He jumps down from the bench, walking off to fetch the wheel. Hosea climbs to the front of the wagon, taking a seat beside you.

“I suppose once he gets that fixed, I should take over.”

You laugh, grinning at Arthur as he props the wagon up. “I think that would be best.”

His head snaps up and he glares at you both, “Shut up, both of ya.” You can’t help but laugh a little harder at his grumpy tone.

Mary-Beth helps you set up your few belongings beside the tent alongside the other women’s trunks. You glance over your shoulder, watching Arthur pitch his tent and rifle through his satchel. A part of you is going to miss the solace of having Arthur beside you at night.

It was comforting, having such a strong man to watch over you while you slept. Especially while you healed. You supposed you were healed now, though, and you didn’t have much more of an excuse to be near him. Not like you did before.

A part of you is surprised by this sudden attachment to him. You should have seen it coming, though, this sudden onslaught of feelings. It has been so long since you’ve been around any truly decent man.

Your husband had been good to you at first, but they always are, aren’t they? You hadn’t had some great love story. But you’d been lucky for two people of high status to get along as well as you had. You suppose that success changes every man. For some, they turn into a miser. They want to keep their money as close to their chest as they can.

Your husband had been the opposite. He’d flaunted his wealth in every way he could. Placed larger bets than was smart. Let people borrow from him and never collected. And then he got into it with some bad men who set him down the wrong path. They made it so he was their cash cow, milking him for what he was worth and turning him against you all the same. They couldn’t risk any words of wisdom getting him to think about what he was doing.

There was no sharp pain in your chest when you thought about your husband lying dead in the snow somewhere. You didn’t want to lay down and weep. You didn’t even miss the ring on your finger. The one that those O’Driscoll bastards had stolen. If you didn’t remember every bad night with him then you could almost pretend that you’d never been married at all.

Since he had turned down that path, you hadn’t met a man you thought was worth knowing. Until Arthur. He could say what he wanted about himself, but you’d never had a man treat you as gently as he has. Maybe it’s creating some warped sense of admiration. It could explain the coying urge to want to repay him and be near him at every chance.

You almost wished you weren’t healed. If only so you could make up an excuse to see him. Now, you’re not sure what you’re going to do. You think he might have only spoken with you because he felt a sense of responsibility towards you. Alive and well, he’s got nothing to say to you.

“My, I think I see hearts in your eyes.”

Your head snaps up and Mary-Beth grins at you. “Oh,” you catch the teasing glint in her eye and frown. “Hush, you. You’re reading too many of those damn books.”

You help her haul a crate up, pretending to look busy as Miss Grimshaw passes by. “Uh uh,” she argues. “I might fill my head with too many love stories, but I’m no fool. You’ve got it bad.”

Before you can object Tilly walks up. “You talkin’ ‘bout Arthur?”

You frown, brows furrowed as you drop the act of unpacking anything. “How’d you know?”

Mary-Beth and Tilly share a knowing look, both of them giggling slightly. You can’t help but feel like it’s at your expense. “I’ve just never seen a lady so attached to him. Hard to stomach the smell sometimes,” Tilly teases.

“Hey, he doesn’t smell that bad,” it’s a weak argument and an even worse deflection but it makes them laugh harder. You can’t help but laugh along, cheeks aching with a smile. You’re not too much older than them, having been married to your husband at a young age. You find yourself enjoying the company of women your own age more than you thought you would.

Someone clears their throat behind you all and you turn around to find a very upset-looking Miss Grimshaw. The three of you straighten up, scrambling for something to fix. It’s not until she shakes her head and walks away that you start cracking up again. Tilly shoots you a look, turning up her nose and mocking the woman.

You smile, throwing your shoulders back and trying to adopt her haughty walk. It makes Mary-Beth snort so loud that Arthur turns towards you all. He sends you a questioning look and you can’t help but flush, turning around and busying yourself with anything other than him.

“Knew it,” Mary-Beth whispers behind you as she walks away. You roll your eyes and sigh but you know she’s right. Clearly, you’re feeling something for him. But it feels wrong too. Too fast and too soon for you to be feeling anything but lucky to be alive.

A few days later, once you’re all settled and Miss Grimshaw is finally satisfied with the camp’s state, you all gather around the fire. You’re late to join the others, having to change your dress after Uncle spilled whiskey all over the other one.

You walk towards the glowing firelight and the sounds of Javier strumming lightly on his guitar. He’s not singing yet but you’re sure a few more drinks for everyone and the whole county will hear your hollering.

You try to find an opening among everyone but most of the seats have already been taken. Just as you go to sit beside Charles, Tilly throws herself down on the log. She doesn’t look at you, just fiddles with the hem of her dress and slurps loudly on her drink. Your eyes narrow suspiciously but you don’t call her out.

Instead, you roam the faces of those around you, seeing a spot beside Sadie. She nods her head at you but before you can go claim it, Hosea grabs her attention. He sits beside her, asking her about some nonsense you can’t hear from where you stand. And just like that, it seems everywhere you look any open spot was gone. Someone either slid over or stole it. It left you with just one place left.

Arthur looks up from his cup as you approach. “You mind?” You ask, lingering by the log, unsure of whether or not he wants your company.

He slides over easily, “‘Course not.” You let out a small breath of relief and sit beside him. You don’t know if it’s divine interference or a few nosy campmates, but it feels too coincidental that the only open spot is beside him.

There are a few moments of stilted silence between you. It might all be in your head. You’ve messed yourself up, putting too much thought into how you feel about him. Now, you don’t even know how to talk to him. You just stare into the fire, and watch the shadows play across the other's faces.

Arthur’s voice breaks you out of your concentration. “You been feelin’ okay?”

You’re surprised by the genuine concern in his voice. He really cares and it’s such a strange idea to you- meeting a man so attentive. “I’ve been a little sore from the ride, but nothing too bad.” When you turn towards him you’re surprised to find him already looking at you.

It’s easy, to just stare into his eyes and pretend it’s just the two of you by the fire. It casts a comforting glow across the both of you, makes the dark night look a little warmer. Eases the chill of the night and lulls you into a place where you finally let the anxiousness that plagues you melt away.

“How ‘bout you, Arthur, you okay?”

He chuckles quietly, nodding his head and glancing down at his lap. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

The soft way he speaks to you lures you into a false sense of security. You wonder if it would really be so bad to say what you’re thinking. He’s so kind to you, you’re sure even if he doesn’t feel the same he wouldn’t be cruel.

“Would it be odd if I said I miss bunking with you?” You laugh a little at yourself, trying to downplay just how much you truly mean that.

You seemed to have made a horrible mistake though. Being around the woman of the camp has allowed you the comfort of a loose tongue. Judging by the way his whole body stills and he won’t meet your eyes, you think you might need to tighten it once more. “Oh,” you sigh, rubbing an embarrassed hand down your face. “I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”

“No, no,” Arthur’s quick to stop you. He glances around, making sure no one else is listening. “Nothing wrong with that. I just think,” he pauses and lets out a huff. Your face pinches and you bite your tongue, trying to stop yourself from shouting at him to just spit it out. He sucks in a deep breath and turns to you with a pained look. “There are better men than me out there, Mrs. Rowe. I think you’d be better off goin’ after them.”

“What-” He gets to his feet before you can object. You’d like to tell him what a fool he is. How he’s a perfectly fine man and you can choose well enough for yourself.

“Good night,” he tilts his hat down, ambling off towards his tent and leaving the warmth of the fire behind.

You look down at your lap with a frown. “Oh,” you whisper, “You’re such a fool, Arthur Morgan.” You watch him slip into his tent and feel like a stone has replaced your heart. You feel heavy now, wanting nothing more than to sleep the sting of rejection off. You quietly slip away from the fire and head towards the women’s tent.

You ease onto the rocky ground and pull a blanket over your shoulders. You’d never thought you’d long for the rotted floorboards of that shed in the mountains but you crave that comfort more than ever.

Arthur adjusts his hat and steps out of his tent. He adjusts to the bright morning light and finds his gaze drifting toward the tent the other women are sleeping in. You’re not there, your bed roll fussed up like you’d just gotten up. There’s a split second where he worries you might have changed your mind about the outlaw life and left.

He’s not happy with the stomach-dropping feeling that leaves him with. He shouldn’t care whether or not you stay. Still, he isn’t satisfied until he looks around and sees you sharing some coffee with Hosea.

He debates walking over to you both when Pearson ambles towards him. “Arthur,” he barks out. He holds a white slip of paper in his hands and you turn away from Hosea to glance back at him. “A woman brought this by for you.”

He tries to wave at you but you whip around when you hear Pearson speak, avoiding meeting his eye. Hosea leans in and whispers something to you, but you just shake your head. His eyes narrow at the two of you, wondering when you got so cozy.

“Who was it?” Arthur asks.

“I don’t know,” Pearson grouses, walking off with a shrug. Arthur flips the paper over and sighs. He didn’t even need to ask. He knows this handwriting about as well as he knows his own. Mary.

He’s not sure he even wants to read this. There’s the chance that he’ll either have to deal with her father again or he’ll just feel the guilt of what she thinks could have been. Sighing, he turns away from you and Hosea. He flips the letter open, skimming it. He’s not ready to dive so deep into the past this morning but it could be urgent.

Most of it is pretty vague. Brief mentions of her father devolving past the fool he already was and something about her brother needing help. She asks him to meet her in Valentine and he tucks the letter in his satchel. He doubts anything good would come of going to see her.

Half the time they just have these quiet sort of non-arguments about how he can’t change and how she never gave him the chance to. They keep going back to each other and keep pretending they're different people than they actually are. She has it in her head that he would never abandon this outlaw life for her. And he thinks that she would never be able to truly accept him as he is.

They go round and around each other endlessly. Never quite meeting in the middle. These occasional meet-ups have just started to feel like a punishment for himself. But there’s a part of him that always feels the need to hear her out, to see her one last time. He hates that part of himself sometimes.

He turns to head towards the horses when an eager voice stops him. “Oh, Mr. Morgan!” Strauss stands up from his stool, walking over to Arthur with a large black book in his hand. “Just the man I was looking for.” There’s something in his tone that makes Arthur bristle. He has a feeling whatever he’s about to ask for is going to be something he doesn’t like.

“What?” Arthur’s short with him, never having been a huge fan of the man. He hates that he’s the one Strauss comes to for collections. He understands the necessity of the money for camp. But half the time the people are just desperate families trying to keep a roof over their heads. If Strauss targeted the rich, maybe he wouldn’t mind roughing the debtors up so much.

“I just need a favor from you. I’ve got some collections that need to be taken. A few reminders to be sent,” he laughs a little. The noise is empty and grates on Arthur’s already frayed nerves.

“We’ve barely been here a week. You’re tellin’ me you’ve already got lives to ruin?”

Strauss's eyes narrow into slits before he forces on another thin smile. “Mr. Morgan, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the loss our camp funds suffered in Blackwater. We need everything we can get. Surely you understand this is for the good of the camp, yes?”

Arthur lets out a rough sigh. He looks down at the list of people in Strauss’s hand. He knows that he’s always going to choose the gang over anyone else. But it doesn’t make this feel any better. “Fine,” he snaps, snatching the paper from him.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan.” Arthur shakes his head, ignoring the smug lilt of Strauss’s accent. He shakes his head and turns away, walking towards the horses.

“-well, Uncle ruined my only other good dress. I’ll need to buy some new ones,” Arthur looks over as you speak to Hosea. You motion sadly to a large brown stain on the front of your dress and he rolls his eyes, thinking of Unlcle spilling something on you. Maybe he could pick something up for you while he’s in town. You’ve got hardly anything to your name, you could at least use a new pair of boots.

He’s nearly to his horse when Hosea calls him over. Is he going to get anything done today, or does everyone need something for him?

He lets out an irritated sigh and walks back over. You don’t look up at him and that only further sours his mood. “What are you doing?” Hosea asks, the suspicious expression on his face only makes Arthur’s hackles raise further.

“Was gonna head to Valentine but Strauss has got me doin’ collections.” Your eyes lift at the mention of collections and he doesn’t miss the slight grimace that passes across your face before you’re looking away again.

Something hot boils in the pit of his stomach but he shoves it down, trying to ignore it. Hosea shakes his head, waving him off. “No, I need you to escort Mrs. Rowe to Valentine. Micah will handle the collections,” he tells him firmly, not leaving much room for argument.

“But-”

Hosea cuts him off with a frown, “No ‘buts,’ the lady needs some new clothes, Arthur. You can’t let her go into town without a proper escort. Imagine what could happen.”

Your face drops at that. You roll your eyes with a scoff, “I most certainly do not need-”

You trail off, sentence falling short as Hosea shoots you a sharp look. You throw the rest of your coffee into the fire and get to your feet. “Right, well I clearly don’t get much of a say in this.”

“Neither of you do,” Hosea responds. He’s got a look that means he’s far too pleased with himself. Arthur glances over at you, feeling a little guilty at the perturbed expression you wear. He doesn’t blame you for not wanting to spend time with him. He knows he could have been kinder to you last night, but all he’d been thinking about was stopping another situation like Mary from happening.

“Come on Mr. Morgan,” you call out, walking past him and heading towards the horses.

Arthur lingers behind for a moment, shooting Hosea a glare. “I’m gettin’ tired of your games, old man,” Arthur grouses before reluctantly following after you. Hosea just laughs, taking a long, pleased, sip of his coffee.

Arthur turns around and heads towards the hitching posts. You’re already waiting there for him, arms crossed while you examine the horse. “Somethin’ wrong?” You jump slightly, turning around to face Arthur as he walks up.

Your lips purse and he can tell you’re debating whether or not you want to speak with him. Arthur stops walking, standing just a little ways back and giving you no other choice but to talk. Rolling your eyes, you force the words out. “Your horse is too damn tall.”

Arthur glances between you and the shire, laughing a little under his breath. “Alright, come on.” He comes up in front of you, hovering his hands over your waist until you give him a reluctant little nod. He takes you by the waist and lifts you onto the back of the horse. His hands drift down to your knees, squeezing once before he forces himself to back off. “Comfortable?”

You glare down at him, but he can see a little bit of sheepishness in the look you give him. “Fine as I’ll ever be, sitting like this.”

He swings up on the saddle and glances back at you. “We’ll see if we can’t get you a horse while we’re in town.” Your face lights up at that and it unravels a bit of the knot in his chest.

“I think I’d like that,” you tell him, turning slightly to wrap your arms around his waist. He does his best to ignore the warmth you provide. But all he can focus on is how soft you feel against him compared to the harshness he deals with every day. He doesn’t say anything else, leading his horse out of camp and heading to town. He doesn’t know what he’s more stressed about, seeing Mary or having you see her.

He lets out a rough sigh and shakes his head. Women, they’re not worth the damn trouble.

The ride into Valentine isn’t too slow, but you know Arthur isn’t going as fast as he wants so that you feel more comfortable on the back of the horse. You’re still getting used to the finicky beasts, not quite having bonded with them like the others in camp. Still, you’d rather swallow your pride and get one of your own than have to keep riding side-saddle like this.

Sitting on the back of the horse is damn near impossible to get comfortable on. And you know the animals don’t like it any more than you do. You think it’s only making them dislike you more. You adjust yourself again and hear Arthur sigh in front of you. His chest heaves under your grip and you realize just how tight you’ve been squeezing him this whole time.

“Sorry,” you mutter, undoing your arms and stretching them out. You’re surprised the poor man can still breathe.

“It’s fine,” he responds, but you can hear the strain in his voice as he finally sucks in a full breath. You grimace, wondering how you’re gonna handle your own horse if you can barely deal with this one. Arthur’s is the least temperamental of the bunch at camp and you still can’t bring yourself to trust it.

Arthur passes by the train station and you straighten up, a little bit of relief forming when you realize how close you are to finally being able to walk around on your own two feet. Arthur brings the horse to a slower pace, pulling on the reins as townspeople begin to walk by more frequently.

You’re not sure what you were expecting of the town. It’s certainly not glamorous. But it’s not as backwoods as you had been expecting. The people seem friendly enough, at least to you. They’ll nod their heads with a polite, “Ma’am,” but they don’t seem very warmed to Arthur.

“You already been through here?” You ask, a little bit of a tease lingering on the edge of your words.

Arthur stiffens under your grip, tilting his head back towards you before looking forward. “Whaddya mean?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, “these people seem a little wary of you, that’s all.”

Arthur lets out a heavy sigh, “Not my fault,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. “He called me a pretty boy, what was I supposed to do?” You barely catch the words before he brings the horse to a stop and gets down.

“Pretty boy?” You question, a grin curling at the edge of your lips. His eyes narrow and he shakes his head.

“Forget it,” he demands. He holds his hand out towards you and you hesitate. You could just jump down, you'll probably roll your ankle, but you could do it. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like how wholly Arthur’s hand envelops yours, even if he’s made it clear he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.

You slide your hand into his and he brings his other one up to your waist. He eases you down onto the ground but your boot slips into a bit of mud. You tilt forward, off-kilter, and catch yourself against his chest.

Your eyes widen when you feel the bulk lurking underneath his tattered shirt. You clear your throat, backing up quickly and straightening out your skirt. Even after a few weeks, you’re still not used to touching another man who’s not your husband. Especially not so brazenly.

Arthur laughs at your behavior but you see the nervous way he rubs the back of his neck. He ducks his head down, hat blocking his pretty eyes. You know that you have an effect on him. In the same way, a simple touch from him sends heat racing through you, you can see it happen to him.

You’re not some lovesick fool who’s blinded by your desire. You may be naive when it comes to relationships, but you know want in a man’s eyes when you see it. If only he weren’t so damn stubborn.

“I’ve got some business to deal with in town,” your face falls as he speaks. You’d almost forgotten about the letter Pearson had brought to him. The one that a woman had dropped off. You hope it’s his aunt or some withered old lady who just needs an outlaw’s help. As unlikely as that is, you still pray for it.

He reaches into his saddle bag and your eyes double in size as he holds out a holstered revolver. You stare at it, eyes darting between him and the gun. “You know how to shoot don’t ya?”

You scoff in indignation. “I’ve spent my entire adult life in the mountains. Of course, I know how to shoot. But why would I need to?”

He looks amused by your attitude and it only makes you narrow your eyes at him in irritation. “Just take it, would you? You’re traveling with a gang of outlaws, it’s not smart to go around without anythin’ to protect yourself with.” He nudges the gun towards you once more and you snatch it from him.

You bring it to your side, attaching it to your belt as you chew on his words. You hadn’t thought of that before, mainly because you haven’t left the camp since you made it out of the mountains. But you’re so used to being seen as a lady that you forget you’re now just as much of a criminal as the rest of them. If only by association.

“Fine,” you relent.

“Here,” he reaches into his satchel and tugs out a few bills. “Take this, for the dresses or whatever it was ya needed.”

You stare down at the money and shake your head, “Oh, no, Arthur, I couldn't.” He’s already done so much for you and the camp. You don’t feel comfortable taking from him further. But he won’t let it go, he takes your wrist and forces your palm open, placing the money in your hand.

“You’re not gonna steal the clothes are ya?”

“No, but-”

“‘Nough fussin’, just take it would ya, woman?” You tuck the money in your waistband and glare at him. He’s being awful pushy this morning.

He grabs the horn of the saddle, pulling himself back up and glancing down at you. “How long am I gonna be expected to look after myself?”

“Only about an hour, I’ll be back soon enough.”

“You better,” you chide. He only chuckles, tilting his hat towards you before riding off past the shops and towards the houses behind the town. You let out a heavy sigh, fiddling with the money and looking around town. You don’t imagine you’ll find much here, but you figure the general store is probably a good place to start.

It isn’t until you’ve bought yourself a few new outfits that you realize just how much money Arthur has given you. You could probably buy two horses with all this. You’re sure Dutch would be irate if he learned Arthur funded your shopping trip and not the camp lockbox.

You walk out of the general store with your box of goodies tucked under your arm. You hide the rest of your money away in the top of your corset like you’ve seen Karen do before. You look around the shops, trying to spot Arthur’s giant shire hitched somewhere. When you don’t see the horse you frown, deciding to do a quick lap around to see if he’s somewhere else.

It turns out to be fruitless, despite promising to be back within an hour, you can’t find him anywhere. You figure that his “business” just ran on longer than he thought it would and try and think of a way to pass the time. You debate going to the stables and getting your own horse but it seems rude to just spend his money so cavalierly.

Besides, you figure you should get his opinion before you commit to one of the erratic creatures. He seems to speak their language. You figure he could help you find one that won’t send you flying if it gets spooked.

With no other way to pass the time, you take a seat on the bench outside the general store. You pick up a discarded newspaper and figure you’ll just wait for him here. Of course, you only make it about three sentences into a report on a train robbery before you toss the paper to the side.

You’ve never been very good at waiting. Living the life of a proper lady has left you spoiled and you’re starting to get antsy. Jumping up from the bench you walk around the back of the shop towards the houses Arthur had ridden towards.

There’s a brief moment of intelligence where you think about the consequences of bugging him. He is an outlaw and for all the manners and grace he’s shown you, you’ve seen the bounty. You know he’s a known criminal and a murderer. Who's to say he won’t get upset at you for interrupting and just shoot you?

Still, the thought of him getting so mad he starts firing off rounds makes you laugh more than it makes you scared. You just can’t picture Arthur in that way.

It isn’t hard to figure out which house he went to. All you have to look for is the giant black horse grazing in the grass outside. You pick up your pace when you see Diablo roaming in front of a particularly nice house. It’s probably the biggest one around and the most well-kept. You wonder who he could be meeting out here, in Valentine being “rich” doesn’t mean much.

You notice the front door of the home opening, but you know they can’t see you past the large tree in front of you. You see Arthur first, the brim of his hat, and then his boot as he walks out the door. He turns around, talking to whoever’s inside and shaking his head vehemently.

You take another step towards them but your foot hovers in the air as the person he’s talking to follows after him. So much for a withered old lady. You feel your stomach drop as the beautiful woman he’s talking to reaches forward and takes his hands in hers. You can’t hear them speaking, but you can see the familiarity in the way they dance around each other.

She’s got a pleading look on her face and he’s got the expression of a man about to give into whatever she asks of him. You turn around as quick as you can, marching yourself right back to town. You never should have even gone looking for him. One hour or two, you should have just kept your happy ass where it was. At least then you wouldn’t be dealing with the racing thoughts going through your head.

You had a suspicion that there was once a woman in his life. In fact, it would be odd for there not to be. He’s traveled for so long and he’s so different than other men you met that it wouldn’t make sense for him to have not caught the eye of a pretty woman. But you hadn’t expected her. She seemed so much like…

You.

She reminded you of yourself before your husband had abandoned you and you started traveling with the gang. Hair done up prim and proper, clothes tailored perfectly to her body. Even the way she carried herself was straight out of the proper lady training book. She most certainly came from money.

You just didn’t know how Arthur knew her. Or what their relationship was. It certainly wasn’t familial. You knew that much from the longing in her eyes. Oh, this was just awful. Arthur didn’t reject you because he thought he wasn’t good enough for you. He just didn’t want you. He had a woman of his own, of course he did. You feel like such a fool, getting your hopes up over something that could never happen.

You trudge back into town, heading straight for the saloon. You’ve never had the stomach for alcohol, but you’re sure you can make an exception tonight. Just to ease the blade of hurt wedging itself in your chest.

You toss your box of clothes on the counter of the bar and the barkeep gives you a startled look. His eyes narrow before he slides a glass over to you. “Looks like you need a whiskey.”

“Make it a double,” you slip him a few more bills than necessary and he whistles. Instead of pouring he just places the bottle in front of you. He leaves you on your lonely end of the counter and scrubs up a drunken spill.

You use a heavy hand to pour and bring the glass to your lips, ticking your head back and downing as much as you can. The acrid, bog-like taste doesn’t comfort you. But it does make your tongue feel fuzzy and begin to soften the harsh edges of your mind. About a bottle later, you can barely remember Arthur’s name, much less why you’re drinking.

You’re debating entering a very risky poker game when you see it. Just out of the corner of your eye, a man goes stumbling up the stairs with a whore. It’s not out of the usual, it’s been happening the whole time you’ve been here. But there’s something familiar to you about the back of his head.

Stumbling to your feet, you rub at your eyes and blink a few times. You squint, trying to make out how you know this man when he finally turns slightly. Like a bucket of cold water being tossed over you, the whiskey seems to leave you for a moment.

Your husband’s glazed eyes pass over you and he laughs at a drunk man falling face-first to the floor. Your heart pounds so harshly against the cage of your chest you can hear nothing else but your blood rushing. He stumbles the rest of the way up the stairs and you stand there, completely dumbfounded and confused.

Your husband isn’t just alive. He’s here and he’s about to go fuck a whore like he didn’t leave you for dead.

Next Part

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x you #Arthur morgan #Arthur Morgan fanfiction #Arthur Morgan imagine #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x you #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption #red dead 2 #red dead redemption x reader #Hell Hath No Fury #rdr2

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year ago

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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lewisvinga · 1 year ago

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on the low | george russell x fem! reader

summary; y/n soft launches her relationship, starting with a tiktok trend, and her fans are shocked to find out who it is

fc; leah halton

warnings; cursing, mentions of mature themes

notes; requested!

masterlist !

yourusername just posted on tiktok!

liked by yourbestfriend and others

yourusername: weeknd photo dump 👻

username: the 2nd slide??????

yourbestfriend: tell him i said back off u were mine first

yourusername: he’s being stubborn 😔

username: omg is that the guy from your recent tiktok??

username: my fave influencerrrr

username: soft launch?? 👀👀👀

username: it’s central care 100%

username: uhm ok

username: however he may be, he cannot handle a baddie like u

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, and others

georgerussell63: vacation 🛥️☀️🌊⛱️

landonorris: u a bitch

georgerussell63: not my fault you suck at tag 🤣

landonorris: at least she pushed you off the boat, so a win is a win☝️

username: OMG???

username: russell george, WHO TF IS THAT

username: posting a girl, no tag, this ladies and gentlemen is a soft launch!!

username: the first pic i’m going feral

username: i need him but now i realize he probs has a gf and is soft launching her but that won’t stop me from thirsting over him!!

yourusername uploaded to their story!

[caption 1; mercedes men>>] [caption 2; gave me 63 roses btw🤍] [caption 3; paddock ready😁]

georgerussell63

now you’re just gonna give it away!!!

yourusername

it’s for the curious girlies😒

besides, you did give me 63 white roses

georgerussell63

well i thought it was a good idea 😕

yourusername

it was !! 😩

ur sooooo smart babe

georgerussell63

why thank u pretty girl 😁

georgerussell63 uploaded to their story!

[caption 1; my girl 🤍] [caption 2; driving my g wagon, should i be scared?] [caption 3; i love you❤️]

yourusername

awwww ily

AND I’M NOT A BAD DRIVER UR A BAD DRIVER🤬

georgerussell63

i drive cars for a living babe🤣

i can’t be a bad driver 🤪

yourusername

booooo

i drove just fine 🙄

georgerussell63

if i had nails as long as you i would’ve ripped the seats from gripping so hard 😕

yourusername

n that’s why you’re my personal driver 🥰

ppl keep spamming my comments asking abt who u are btw

georgerussell63

surprised since u have given so many hints

i think it’s abt time i show off the world who my girl is

yourusername

keep calling me ur girl and your gonna have me like 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and others

georgerussell63: my girl.

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: oh george russell you’re really asking for it aren’t you….

georgerussell63: hey your words not mine!

yourusername: my merc boy ily

georgerussell63: ily my pretty girl

username: OKADLSOF

username: holy fuck she’s so fine

username: mr russell george pulled HER???

username: the third pic is insane, she’s insane u

username: omg george is dating y/n???

landonorris: mate idk if you’ve seen but they’re surprised you pulled her

georgerussell63: i’m surprised myself…

liked by georgerussell63, yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername: my merc boy 💙 , my man who i fuck with on the low 😁

tagged; georgerussell63

georgerussell63: that could’ve been a worse tiktok i’ll admit 🤔

yourusername: screw you and your pr team😞

georgerussell: love you❤️

yourusername: love you💘

username: we lost u to a …. vroom vroom boy😀

username: he’s cute yall i didn’t expect this

username: the george girlies going feral for the first pic, thank u y/n😵‍💫

yourbestfriend: not him stealing my girl first 😞

georgerussell63: womp womp she’s my girl now 😁😁

yourusername: i luv when ppl fight over me🥰

username: still can’t believe george russell pulled THE y/n l/n😭😭😭

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one scenarios #f1 scenario #formula one social media au #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #george russell x reader #george russell smau #george russell social media au #george russell scenarios #george russell imagine

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avocado-writing · 7 months ago

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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 · 1 year ago

Text

"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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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 29 days ago

Text

Twelve Days: Part 4 ^

Part 4 is here! Thank you all for your patience:) I hope you like this part, it goes more into the background of things for Harry.

Warnings: infidelity, verbal fighting/arguing, mentions of alcohol dependence and gambling, fear of abandonment

WC: 7.2K

It had been over a week since you had all returned home and you were still just waiting in the silence. You assumed that the invitation your sister had made you to spend New Year’s eve with her and Harry early on in the trip had been revoked because you’d heard nothing from him but also, nothing from her. So you had spent it alone at home watching a comfort show. You’d ordered in dinner and had poured all your energy into making a strong cocktail before planting yourself on your couch for the night. You had eventually fallen asleep but were awoken by your parents’ call after midnight to wish you a happy new year and with that out of the way you proceeded to get to bed.

You had to admit that you felt sad again. You were sad in the way that meant that you hadn’t unpacked from your trip and were still living out of the suitcase. Sad in a way that made you feel like taking the garbage to the dumpster a couple hundred feet away was too much to ask of you. And on top of that, the anxiety was back and you were also scared. Scared that your sister would use this thing she witnessed between you and Harry as the perfect opportunity to bring up her divorce to your family without having to take any responsibility for her actions. A part of you knew she was more mature than that. But the part of her that sought out approval and wanted to look good in front of others was capable of leading her to do anything to prevent any sort of public shame, even if it meant throwing someone else under the bus. It hadn’t been the first time she would’ve done so. So knowing that made it a very real threat.

It wasn’t until the 5th when Harry had finally reached out to you to say Happy New Year, but largely to tell you what was going on. And as you expected, she had brought up to him that talking about the divorce warranted a conversation with your parents where she could explain that her feelings had changed and that he could say that he actually was into you. You scoffed at the news but were not surprised that she had thought that up. Harry did press on her that, that wasn’t going to happen. Especially after what she had pulled on the holiday! So she decided that then until he was ready to also share about his situation with you, then they’d have to continue acting like nothing was wrong even if they were still going through the divorce.

“That’s just ridiculous! Nothing would have ever happened with us if she hadn’t been in love with someone else the whole time!” You said with frustration dripping from your voice.

“I know… but I mean, she’s still telling herself that you were hearing her out to mess with her and to make yourself available to me.”

“By making her think about how her actions were impacting you?”

“She hates being wrong.” He hummed and you sighed. You knew that all too well. “Hey, I’m not going to allow her to scape goat you, Y/N.” He assured her.

“I know. Thank you.” You responded as you just stared up at the ceiling of your apartment.

It was significantly smaller than your shared place with Ash, even if it was also a one bedroom. You were glad that you’d had clients from the past who were eager to hire you back on. Your October to December, up until you left for the holidays, had been absolutely jam packed with dinner party bookings because of Halloween and Friendsgiving/Friendsmas things and thankfully, had replenished at least half of the savings you’d used on the sudden move back. And now for the new year, you’d received calls from at least eight different clients about meal prepping for their new lifestyle goals. It was always like that and in the end, most of them would fall off the wagon but you’d then be left with at least four clients who kept you around for the whole year and one or two who wanted you in their home cooking for their family three to four times a week. It wasn’t all that bad and you were certain that if you put in a little extra effort, your meal preps could keep on an extra client or two.

“Y/N?” Harry inquired after the silence between you.

“M’here, just…thinking.” You said softly and he hummed.

“I’m going to try to see you this weekend. I know that it’s a drive but I don’t care.” He said to you and you smiled slightly as he knew the argument you were going to make and squandered it before you had the chance to present it.

“Well I do care! And what if I don’t want to see you?” You asked with a small smile on your lips.

“Oh please…” he mumbled. “Besides, I start classes next Monday and it always gets so busy. This might be one of the few opportunities I get, you know?” He reminded.

“Fine…” you sighed nonchalantly and he chuckled. But truly you were overjoyed that he wanted to come see you. Santa Barbara wasn’t really that far from Sherman Oaks. Well, with traffic it was a nightmare, but the fact that he wanted to regardless meant a lot to you.

“Okay, I need to go! But I’ll let you know when I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Bye.” You chirped.

A FEW DAYS LATER…

Your week had been busy but Harry’s visit is what was helping you push through to the weekend It was nice to have those days free of work because the weekends did tend to be a very requested time for events and such, but somehow, spending time with him seemed more important than making a living. And on Friday morning you woke up with an excited feeling flowing through your veins. The ability to see and spend time with Harry made the sadness melt away enough. You were looking forward to it so much and you wanted to do something extra nice to show your appreciation for his effort, so you cooked. You decided on one of his favorite foods, a lamb wellington. It was a bit of a complicated dish but you’d made it before. Once it was actually for him when he got hired at the university and your sister had organized a little congratulatory dinner. You remembered that he seemed happy with it, so you went out and got what you needed for the dish.

While you were out, you got a text from Harry that he was planning to be in around 5pm, which was perfect because with prep time and cooking, the meal would be ready shortly before his arrival. With tidying up, showering, and getting dressed and a little made up, the time flew by and you had just set the dish in the oven when some knocks on your door startled you a bit. You found it a bit odd because you hadn’t received a text from Harry to buzz him into your building, but regardless, you hurried over to the door and got it open without a second thought.

“You’re a little early!” You chuckled, but the joy was immediately wiped off from your face when you saw Ash standing at your door with a slightly confused look on his face. You were frozen in place, your heart started to pound erratically as all of these emotions started to drown out any logic that lived in you. There was sadness, confusion, relief, frustration, and so much rage. Your vision started to blur as the tears collected in your waterline “What the hell are you doing here?” You barely got out and Ash frowned.

“You blocked me.”

“Yeah, because I don’t want to fucking speak to you! I want nothing to do with you!” You reminded. “How’d you even find me?” You sniffled as the tears started running.

“Bea told me.” He informed, you sighed. Bea was your friend from the east coast. She was the nanny for one of the family’s you worked for and she had come to visit in the summer. “Don’t be upset at her. It took a lot of convincing.”

“I want nothing to do with you, Ash.” You chuckled through your tears.

“I know! And I know I deserve that! But I also need you to know that when I said I made a mistake, I mean it! I’m not just saying this because of the crippling loneliness I’ve endured since you came back here. I need you to know that I was just scared. I freaked out because…I’ve never wanted this with another person and the second I just started to question whether this would be forever or if we would just become another statistic I just…chose to protect myself. I was an asshole! I was selfish!”

“I know that! And I don’t care! I don’t want you here.” You replied.

“You were expecting someone else.” He said and you nodded.

“I was.” You confirmed.

“You’ve already moved on?” Ash asked sadly.

“No! Or maybe, I don’t know…” you groaned, “But you have completely overstepped!” You cried.

“I know that, but I love you. I am still in love with you, Y/N.” He confessed. You could see the tears welling up in his own eyes and could hear the desperation in his tone. “I made a mistake. A fucking huge mistake! But I am here because I believe in us. I believe in what we had and I would be a bigger idiot than I am already if I just let you go.”

“What the fuck…” you scoffed in disbelief as you started to cry harder.

“Sweetheart-”

“You need to leave.” You stated firmly, “I can’t believe you just show up here and thought this’ll fix everything you put me through.” You sobbed.

“I had to try. And I will keep trying because you’re worth fighting for. When you’re ready to talk, let me know. I’ll be waiting.” He assured you before walking off. You groaned and slammed your door closed and slid down it as you started to sob.

The audacity Ash had made you so angry. And then again, the immense effort that Ash was making confused you. Of course you had lingering feelings for Ash, you’d been together for years! But you had already accepted the fact that if someone loves you, they don’t make decisions for you. And the decision of calling off your engagement had never even been a discussion. You had no idea how long you’d been sitting on the ground and crying for but the next thing you knew, the smoke detector was going off and you glanced over to see some smoke starting to creep out of your oven.

“Shit!” You gasped and hurried over and turned it off before throwing the door open allowing the smelly, dark cloud to billow out. You were in a state of panic when you saw a burning piece of parchment paper at the bottom of the oven and quickly grabbed a pair of tongs to grab it and drop it in the damp sink. In your state of stress, you turned back and reached for the tray of your food worth hours of your hard work with your bare hand to try and salvage it from absorbing the smokey scent. “Fuck!” You exclaimed in pain as the piping hot tray burned your hand and you let it go instinctively.

You watched in horror as the wellington fell off and broke apart as it hit the oven door and then the ground. This brought on a fresh wave of tears and you started to cry even harder as the frustration got the best of you. The dish was actually looking perfect and you were mentally beating yourself up over not checking the tray properly before putting it in the oven. The parchment paper had probably been stuck to the bottom of the tray and you hadn’t noticed before putting it inside. You let out a frustrated scream and grabbed the nearest object before hurling it on the ground. Thankfully, it was just a plastic bowl you’d left out for salad, but that completely destroyed the wellington on your kitchen floor. Not like it was salvageable anyway…Then, you heard some knocks on your door again and felt your rage start to boil up inside of you again, you stood quickly and practically stamped over to the door with your chest heaving from the anger you were feeling, it was going to explode.

“Ash, I said to leave me the fuck alone!” You seethed and everything bad that you felt getting ready to explode inside of you just melted away when you saw that it was Harry standing there with a bag of food from one of your favorite restaurants and a bouquet of flowers in the other. His expression fell in concern when he saw the state you were in. Mascara all run, face swollen from crying. He just set everything down quickly and pulled you into his arms.

“Ash was here?” He asked as he rubbed your back gently and you nodded as you sniffled.

“Just missed each other by like 15-20 minutes.” you informed.

“Let’s get inside.” Harry said as he started to pull back.

“Sorry if it smells like smoke.” You apologized as his thumbs wiped under your eyes to clean up the smeared mascara. “Had a meltdown after Ash left,” You started to explain, “And I forgot about the lamb wellington I’d made for you and thought it was burning but it was actually a piece of parchment paper and then I tried to pull it out but it was hot and I burned my hand so bad! And I dropped it and everything I wanted to do for you is all ruined now and-”

“Hey.” He stopped you as he cradled your face in his hands, “Breathe.” Harry said gently and you nodded and took a shaky inhale. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” He smiled. “And we need to take a look at your hand.” He said.

“Of course. And well, I know that dish is your favorite, so I wanted to do something a little special for you.” You explained as you led him inside.

“I also brought your favorite though. Wanted to do something special for you too.” He explained as he retrieved the bag of food and the flowers and then set them on the kitchen counter.

Once he’d done that, he saw the Wellington on the floor and felt sad for you. He knew it wasn’t an easy dish to make, it was quite tedious and required lengthy preparation. He didn’t even know if he had the heart to tell you that he couldn’t give a single fuck about wellingtons but he knew you’d find it humorous.

“Can I tell you something that’ll piss you off but also make you laugh?” He asked and you nodded.

“Go on then.” You invited him to continue.

“Lamb wellington is not my favorite food.” He disclosed and your brows furrowed, “Your sister just doesn’t know any other British food apart from a shepherd’s pie and just assumed it was that because my mum had shared with her that my nan would always make that for my birthday growing up. I actually fucking hate it.” He explained and you sputtered on a laugh and he started to laugh as well. “Well, usually. The one she asked you to make for me a few years ago? That was the best one I’d ever had in my life, so I still would’ve eaten it, happily.” He assured you, “But don’t feel bad for us not being able to eat it.”

“Got it.” You assured with a smile, “I actually just feel bad for the amount of money I spent on the lamb. That was like a tank of gas.” You mumbled playfully.

“Send me the invoice.” He shrugged and you giggled. “Seriously.” He insisted.

“Okay, professor money-bags…” you hummed as you slid your hands down to his and then winced when you touched. “Forgot about the burn…guess, that’s how happy I am to see you.” You said and he smiled before glancing down to inspect your hand.

“Oh, love…” he tutted as he saw the angry, red line in the shape of the edge of the tray burned into the palm of of your hand and the tips of your fingers were also burned.

“Being a chef and all, I have the perfectly stocked up first aid kit.” You assured him.

“Be a good girl for me and go get it.” He said smoothly and you suddenly felt turned on. A timid little grin painted itself on your lips as you felt your face warming as you blushed.

“Yes, sir.” You giggled and started to turn away when he grabbed your waist and you turned back.

“Mmm-mm…try again.” He hummed with a devilish smirk and lust burning in his gaze. Your smile widened as realization set in.

“You have a daddy kink?” You inquired through a disbelieving giggle.

“Yeah. But only with some people.”

“Is that your way of saying that it’s not a thing with my sister?” You asked for clarity and he sighed.

“You had to say it aloud, didn’t you?” He asked through a slightly embarrassed smile and you giggled.

“I gotta keep you on your toes.” You excused and he smiled.

“Good to know. Now, go on.” He reminded you of your task and you nodded and hurried off.

It wasn’t long before Harry had gotten some burn ointment on your hand, gotten a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a kitchen cloth on your palm, and had you take an ibuprofen for the pain. And minutes later you were set up at the dinner table and eating your favorite cannelloni. You hadn’t gone there simply because it was currently out of your price range, but how you missed this place. And of course, he had brought along some of their famous citrus tiramisu for dessert and a small box of cannoli for you to have over the next couple days. The time passed you by quickly after you guys decided to watch the Twilight saga after dinner. You were curled up beside Harry on your small couch as he glanced down at you as New Moon ended.

“Just making sure you’re still awake.” He smiled.

“I am.”

“Okay, let’s start the next one.” He said as he reached for the remote.

“Only if you want! It’s nearly 11 and you have quite a drive back.” You said to him. “Though, I mean, if you want to stay over you totally can. I’d love to have you and I’m sure I have something that you can change into.” You said to him.

“I actually did bring an overnight bag just in case but I left it in my car. I just didn’t want to assume.” He explained and you smiled.

“Well, you’re always welcomed. And ummm, we should probably check you don’t have a ticket. The street parking here requires a permit. I can give you the visitor one to stick on your windshield.” You suggested and he nodded and smiled. After a few minutes you were both back up in your apartment, you were getting changed into your pajamas while Harry started his nightly routine.

“Do you want to do a face mask with me?” You asked as you peeked into the bathroom as he was lathering in his face wash.

“I’d love to!” He said happily and you gave him a thumbs up before sliding in and reaching for your makeup removing balm. Once you’d also washed your face you were both lathering on some of your Clarin’s mask. It was one of your splurge skincare items and you masked once a month so it lasted you a decent while. You guys cleaned up your kitchen and turned down the bed in just the time you needed before washing them off, and once you finished the rest of your skin care you were both in your bed, cuddled close and propped up against the pillows as you continued with Eclipse, the predicament Bella was in kind of reminded you of your sister.

“Hey, random but how did you pull off being able to spend the night?” You asked.

“Your sister left for San Diego last night. Obviously, she didn’t say explicitly that she was going with company but I saw a lingerie set in her luggage while she was packing so…”

“Sorry.” You sighed.

“I’m not. I get to be here with you.” He flirted and you smiled. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Ash?”

“No…just the same as before though, wanted me back.” You explained briefly and he hummed. “I’ve decided to never speak to the girl who told him where I live again.” You said.

“That’s perfectly acceptable. What if he’d come to kill you, like Riley to Bella?”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “Anyway, told him to fuck right off…I’m still too angry to have a conversation with him. I kinda feel bad because he came all this way but I’m not ready.”

“That’s alright. You don’t owe him anything.” Harry assured you as his hand gently smoothed up and down your hip.

“Thanks.” You hummed. “So what is it?” You seemingly asked out of nowhere.

“What’s what?” Harry asked.

“Your favorite food.” You responded and he smiled.

“You might laugh again.” He warned.

“Try me…” you hummed.

“A cheese toastie, or grilled cheese sandwich. Whichever, really.” He said, “I know that’s like super simple and-” you quickly sat up with a disbelieving smile.

“No. That’s also my actual favorite food.” You said and he grinned.

“Really?”

“Yeah! It’s literally the perfect comfort food.” You explained and he hummed.

“Definitely.” He agreed, “We weren’t really well off growing up, my mum worked a lot to keep us afloat. But one day she was home after school and she was super excited because she’d gotten a promotion that would allow her to take a day off every week and that was our little tradition on her day off. She would pick up my brother and I from school and make us that for dinner.”

“You didn’t get sick of it?”

“Well, it didn’t last long…maybe just a month or two at most. It was really lovely while it lasted though.” He explained with a smile, “That was around the time she started dating my stepdad and well, we know where that led…”

“Ummm, I actually don’t know. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to get into that.” You assured him.

“It’s nothing crazy…he just got her a little too into drinking and gambling.”

“Oh, I see…I’m sorry, Harry.” You said softly.

“It’s alright. It doesn’t bug me like it used to. They’re adults, they know the consequences of their actions.” He explained. “There are just a lot of ups and downs. And well, my older brother has always been pretty flighty. So when our stepdad came into our lives it was really easy for him to follow in his footsteps and subscribe to his patterns. So there’ve been a lot of ups and downs.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” You responded as your hand smoothed down his chest. “Is that why you moved?” You asked and he pulled you just a bit closer.

“Largely, yeah. That guy just ruined the people in my family. Anyone that tried to get my mum to see that he was a loser was estranged, so by the time I was a teenager it was just the four of us and I had to be the responsible one. And eventually I just got sick of it and that’s how I ended up moving here for grad school.”

“Wow…I’m really proud of you, Harry.” You said softly and he smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Thank you.” He responded. “That’s why I really like your family. I’ve heard a lot about how your parents worked so hard ad sacrificed so much for themselves and for you two. It’s something that I saw a lot with my friends and such, but I never thought I’d have that for myself again.” He confessed and that made you so sad for him. “So when…I found out about your sister I wasn’t just sad that my marriage was over. I was sad that I would be losing all of you.”

“Well, you’re not going to lose me.” You reassured him.

“I know.” He hummed.

“Good.” You smiled.

“Sorry…” he chuckled, “I didn’t really intend to rehash my childhood traumas in your bed.” You giggled and pressed yourself up a bit and pecked his lips quickly.

“Well what did you intend to be doing in my bed, then?” You questioned teasingly with a smug grin on your face as you looked down at him.

“It was definitely going to be more X-rated.” He hummed.

“Well, I don’t mind you sharing those things with me at all. It’s part of getting to know you better and that’s equally as important.” You said, reframing his worry of putting a damper between the two of you. “I want to know everything about you.” You added and Harry smiled and slid his hand behind your neck and pulled you down again to kiss your lips gently.

“I want to know everything about you too.” He muttered before kissing you again.

It was so easy to get lost in each other. It was just minutes later that your were both topless, his body hovering over yours as you kissed with desperation. His big hands were so warm as they glided over your bare skin and breasts. You could feel his erection pressed against you and if he just touched between your legs he’d also feel how evident your arousal was. Just as things were getting even more heated there was some pounding at your front door followed by shouts of your name from none other than, Ash. Harry drew back from you as you both heard the commotion outside.

“What the fuck?” You expressed in annoyance as Harry moved off of you and started to get off of the bed. You sat up and reached for him, “Just leave it.”

“Absolutely not. Do not let him ruin this fresh start for you.” He said and you sighed.

“I’m just worried that he’ll try to fight you. Clearly there’s some substance involved and-”

“I can hold my own. And if he takes a swing, we call the cops.” Harry said and you looked at him nervously.

“Deal?”

“Deal.” He assured.

You followed behind Harry and as he approached the front door you could already hear some of your neighbors out in the hall cursing at Ash, telling him to shut up. You decided to just linger behind Harry but far enough that you were out of sight. You could feel your stomach turning as Harry unlocked the door to your apartment.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ash slurred.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Harry responded.

“I’m here for my fiancé, so get the fuck out of my way.” Ash grumbled as he tried to push past Harry, but he stood firm.

“Y/N told you to go earlier, so I suggest you leave, Ash.”

“Or what, tough guy?” Ash sneered. You saw how Harry’s jaw tighten from his profile and it put you on edge thinking that he might lose his cool and you’d have to intervene.

“I’ll call the police.”

“For what?” He scoffed.

“You’re being a nuisance, Ash. You’re disturbing everyone on this floor over nothing. She wants absolutely nothing to do with you. So get your ass back on a plane and fly back to whatever shit-hole state you came from.” Harry advised.

“I can’t just let her go.” He slurred, you could hear the pain in his voice and it made you want to step out and see him, but the fact of the matter was that he did let you go.

“That’s exactly what you did to her. You let her go for no good fucking reason and now she wants nothing more from you. So please, have some sense and call a cab or an uber and go home, Ash. It’s over.” Harry stated firmly. He wasn’t being a dick to him though, he sounded genuinely sad for Ash.

“But-”

“But nothing. Please go and never come back or there will be consequences. Do you hear me?” Harry asked calmly.

“Fuck you, Styles. Fuck you.” Ash growled before giving him a hard shove, but Harry hardly moved an inch. Before Ash could even realize it, Harry had him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him high enough that he was struggling to plant his feet firmly on the ground.

“Get the fuck out of here before I snap you like a fucking twig.” Harry seethed and Ash’s courage suddenly faded, “If I ever hear that you showed up here again I will fuck. You. Up. That’s promise.” Harry punctuated before letting Ash go and moments later you heard Ash’s unsteady steps fading away down the hall. When Harry turned back to you after locking up you gave him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He said as he reached for your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Think so?” He inquired.

“Yeah…it’s just that…I actually don’t know how to feel. Like I’m glad he’s gone but it’s sad because it feels like the last time I’m ever going to see him.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” Harry asked you.

“Yeah, but not love. Just…some care, concern…a little loathing.” You admitted and his lips quirked up in a small smile.

“A little?” He asked as he cupped your face in his hands and you smiled.

“Yeah. Hate’s not good for you.” You hummed and he went silent for a few seconds as he looked over your face.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. Your sister’s really upset with me over the almost-kiss she saw.” He explained.

“I figured.” You responded with a slight shrug.

“I’m not going to leave you hanging like that again.” He insisted to you.

“It’s alright though if you do. I get it…” you responded. You saw the way his morale deflated just a bit upon hearing your response.

“I don’t like that you don’t believe me.” He countered with a slight frown and you sighed and moved out of his hold and made your way back towards your bedroom. You just needed a second to really gather your thoughts over what you were trying to say to him without making him feel like shit. He followed close after you, awaiting a reaction or a response. You sat on the bed and he crouched down before you, looking at you expectantly.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you when you say that, Harry.” You started, “I just…understand that the likelihood of that happening is…easier said than done.” You explained and he hated that response even more.

“I will try.” He insisted and you smiled sadly.

“Okay.” You nodded, though you had so many more thoughts about this in your head. You just made a mental note to not get your hopes up with this. The situation with him and your sister was messy and had the potential to get very complicated. Especially knowing your sister and how she wanted to maintain her own image as clean as possible. She would do whatever she could to not come out looking like the one who fucked everything up. A part of you wanted to believe that she wouldn’t throw you and Harry under the bus, but realistically, you weren’t too sure of how far she’d be willing to go to protect herself.

“Y/N…” Harry beckoned, his voice was soft and his hand landed on your knee and gave you a gentle squeeze. “I care about you. A lot. And I don’t want to cause more hurt or turmoil or-”

“I know, Harry.” You assured him as your eyes finally met his own. “But I’m also not going to get my hopes up about it.” You said to him, “I can’t let myself be in a position where I lose again. I don’t know if I can deal with it.” You said sincerely and his frown deepened. “I care about you too and like you told me before, it’ll hurt way more coming from you.”

“I get that.” He ceded and you nodded.

“Should we just…get to bed?” You asked him and he nodded wordlessly.

It felt awkward for a little bit, the silence was absolutely deafening. The only reason you knew he was in bed beside you was his body heat radiating onto your arm from the minuscule distance between the two of you. You hated the awkwardness so much but at some point you would have to accept the reality of the situation you were both in. There was nothing more that could be done but to wait.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that I’m upset at you. I’m not.” You said as you broke the silence. “I’m just…trying to protect myself.” You explained and he turned towards you.

“I know, love. I’m just disappointed that I could be a source of more hurt for you. I don’t want that for you.” He explained as he reached for you once more. You let him drape his hand over your hip and you decided to turn onto your side to face him as well. This minimized the gap between you even further and you just nuzzled up against his chest.

“I trust you but it’s more the nature of the situation that can make things a bit messy and scary for me.” You explained.

“You’re right about that…” he agreed. “I’m scared too.” He admitted after a moment of silence as he just stared at the wall while you got comfortable against his chest.

A FEW DAYS LATER

Harry’s POV:

The weekend with you had been extremely wholesome and necessary for Harry. He’d gotten a bit worried after Ash showed up and your conversation got a bit depressing but thankfully, things were able to turn around and you enjoyed the next two days together. Despite the very positive note his visit had ended with, he was still nervously awaiting Jules’ return. It was Monday afternoon and he was getting home from his lecture when he saw her car in the open garage as he came up the street. When she didn’t show up the night before he wondered if she’d ever even come back to stay with him.

A part of him felt relieved as he had those thoughts the night before because it meant that she had intent of standing firm in her choice for Joe and she would stop dragging him along and asking him to pretend. But right now as he imagined her hanging out as if nothing had happened, blissfully unaware of when was the last time he’d see her like that and he’d return to an empty house, her side of everything bare…it made him feel so sad and scared.

This was the home they’d made for themselves, the place they picked because when they had kids they’d have a big yard to play in and be close to the beach. There were so many hopes and dreams tied to this place but the uncertainty of her feelings and their marriage right now made it hard to feel happy in it and he hated that. While his feelings for Jules had mostly gone away, he knew that if she just abandoned him one day without a warning it had the potential to really do a number on him. He sat in his car with these thoughts for a few minutes before deciding to just get inside and deal with whatever the evening had in store for them.

When Harry opened the door to get inside he saw her suitcase near the door and he felt that pit in his stomach sinking deeper and deeper.

“Jules?!” He called out as he sped by the kitchen and set down his tote and keys on the counter, “Juliana?!” He called out one more time and there was no response. He blazed up the staircase and into their bedroom only to find it empty as well, but as he took a moment to think he heard the shower running from the adjoined bathroom. It was an ensuite, so he walked over and pressed his ear to the door to hear if she was alone. He couldn’t tell through the soft music he barely heard playing over the pelts of the water hitting the tiles loudly. He let his panic ride out as he just sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her. Thankfully, it was just another few minutes before she was stepping out of the bathroom and he stood from the bed.

“Fuck, Harry!” She gasped, clutching her towel tightly in her fist as her body slightly jolted from the surprise of his presence. “What are you doing here? I thought you had class late!” She slightly scolded him, more from the shock of finding him there than actually being angry at him.

“Sorry. That was last semester. I don’t teach late on Mondays this time around.” He explained and she nodded and there was a tense silence between them for a few seconds. “I was worried when you didn’t come home last night.” He said and she scoffed.

“Sure…after you spent the weekend in bed with my sister?” She muttered as she walked past him and to her set of drawers to grab some clothes. He was relieved to find them fully stocked.

“I’m not having sex with her.” He said and she slightly paused upon hearing that. “We could have but we didn’t. We’re still married, you know?” Harry said and she swallowed thickly before continuing to search for the shirt she had in mind.

“So what? You just hang out and talk?” She asked cooly and he hummed.

“Basically. W-we have kissed and a few other things but not sex.” he shared and she finally made eye contact and she could see that Harry was being sincere. “You left the garage open and I uhhh, I saw your bag by the garage door and thought that maybe you were…packing up t-to leave for good.” He shared and her gaze softened a bit before reaching in for what she wanted.

“Sorry, I must’ve forgotten to close it.” Harry nodded.

“When you are ready to leave for good, please tell me.” He said softly and she nodded.

“I will.”

“Promise?” He asked as he came closer and she nodded.

“Promise.” She reassured and he gave one final nod before turning to leave her to get dressed.

He was just about to start on making some dinner when she finally came down into the kitchen.

“I put an AirTag in your car.” Julie confessed and Harry immediately stopped what he was doing.

“Why would you do that?” He chuckled dryly.

“To confirm that you were going to see Y/N.”

“You could’ve asked…” he said simply.

“I guess I figured you’d lie about it.”

“Why would I do that?” He asked and she shrugged.

“Because of me.”

“Because of you? What about you?” He pressed and she sighed.

“You know what I’m trying to say!” She groaned and his brows raised in feigned realization.

“Oh! Because of your affair?” He questioned and now she was upset. Her features turned down and she groaned.

“Harry, please-”

“Why can’t you just say it?” He questioned, “Just admit it for once that you’ve done a bad thing!” He raised his voice, “The more you live in denial the more you drag me along. It’s not fair and you know it.” He stated firmly and the tears started running down her face.

“Harry-”

“No more excuses, Jules! I will tell you straight up that I do like Y/N! I want to get to know her better and I don’t give a fuck if you approve or not because you have no right to be angry with me over that. Not when you don’t love me anymore and have a whole other relationship behind my back!” He reminded her.

“Jesus, if this even goes anywhere! Y/N is a flake! How are you even going to break that to my parents? Huh?!” She questioned despite her tears.

“Ideally, you would’ve come clean about your affair and our divorce by then.” He said and she huffed out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, right…”

“Julie, you have to tell them! If you don’t, I will.”

“Like hell you will!”

“I can’t fucking do this anymore!” He shouted as he slammed the knife down onto the cutting board and everything fell silent. “I don’t deserve this! Why do you hate me so fucking much?! What did I do?” He asked as his own tears started to fall.

“I don’t hate you! You haven’t done anything wro-”

“You’re hurting me, Juliana! Why don’t you care that every time you delay being honest, that you dodge the attorney’s call, that you leave with that fuck face, all for your benefit, I will add… you are hurting me! You’re so fucking selfish to believe that I should continue to prop up your image of being the perfect daughter! Fucking newsflash, no one is perfect! Especially not you. So stop playing these games with me! And stop pretending that you have beef with me seeing Y/N! You clearly don’t give a fuck about me or this marriage. So just stop it with all of this!” Harry finally blew up and instead of saying anything she just hurried back up the stairs. “Fucking unbelievable…” he grumbled in irritation.

Harry ended up eating alone, which he did expect after blowing up on Jules. He wanted to go apologize but he kept telling himself not to. He had nothing to apologize for, after all, she hadn’t apologized to him for any of her behavior at all. All she had ever apologized for was telling that fuck face, Joe, to come down to Palm Springs so that they could see each other for the holidays. Other than that it was just excuses and excuses. And he gave himself a time line. It was going to be a full year of her relationship with Joe in February and if she didn’t tell everyone the truth, he would.

NEXT PART...

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itsallgoodmann · 6 months ago

Text

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 · 5 months ago

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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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hoe4hotchner · 3 months ago

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Pieces of the past | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader | WC: 1.2k | CW: This is very angsty (and kind of triggering to me at least), reminiscing of childhood, centered around the memories you have of a dead relative, specifically your granddad, mentions of a funeral, mention of undisclosed illness. I mention the word church once.| Summary: Looking at old pictures from your childhood, which makes memories resurface, some better than other.

A/N: This is a very personal fic to me, and I wrote it weeks ago when it would've been my grandad's 80th birthday. I hope you guys will take good care of it --> Also the stories told about the grandad in these are half real and half made up for the sake of the story ❤️

You set the heavy grocery bag on the kitchen table with a sigh, the crinkling of paper breaking the stillness of the apartment. You’d just returned from your mom's house, and what was supposed to be a quick stop had quickly turned into a nostalgic trip down memory lane. The bag was filled with old photographs, ones she had kept in the basement - forgotten over time, ones you hadn’t seen in years. Mostly, they were from your childhood, while others were from before you were born - holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and weddings - but the ones that hit the hardest were the ones of your grandad.

He had passed when you were still young, but the memories you had of him were vivid, and cherished, and every now and then, those memories resurfaced like the pictures you now held in your hands.

You started spreading them across the dinner table, sorting through the faded snapshots, organizing them by event. There was one of you, maybe 3 years old, sitting in a four-wheeled wagon, your grandad pulling you around the garden, both of your faces were lit with massive smiles - You could tell it was winter from your massive red puffer jacket, it looked way too big for a toddler, but it looked warm. Another one had him holding your hand while walking through the park, his old, weathered jacket wrapped tightly around him, you could tell he was already sick there, knowing that not long after that trip, he had passed.

The further you sorted, the heavier the ache in your chest grew. It wasn’t sadness, really - it was more of an emptiness, a longing for those quiet, comfortable moments you could never get back, a longing, wondering how he would've reacted to your life choices, how different life might have looked if he had still been around.

You picked up a photograph that felt heavier than the rest, your breath hitching as you recognized the scene captured within the frame. It was a solemn day, the sky gray as friends and family gathered to pay their respects. Your grandad’s casket, draped in a simple white and wooden veneer, stood surrounded by flowers, red roses to be exact - they were always his favorite - each bloom a testament to the love he had shared throughout his life. In the image, you could see yourself, a small figure in a white dress - it was the same one you would wear when your grandmother remarried 2 years later - holding tightly to your mother’s hand, her fingers trembling in yours. Tears glistened in your eyes as you remembered the heaviness in your heart that day, you were sure you hadn't really understood what was going on around you. The ache of loss was suffocating, knowing he had touched so many lives. You blinked hard, wishing to erase that moment from your mind, but it lingered like a ghost, haunting the edges of your memories.

By the time Hotch returned home, you were sitting in the middle of a sea of photographs, some placed in neat piles, others scattered haphazardly, the memories tangled with your emotions. You didn’t hear the door open or the sound of his briefcase hitting the floor. It wasn’t until you felt his presence that you realized he was home.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, and when you looked up at him, he already knew. He didn’t need to ask.

“Hey,” you murmured back, trying to summon a small smile but failing. Your eyes dropped back to the picture in your hand, a shot of your grandad, dressed in his Sunday best at his 25th wedding anniversary with your grandmother, his kind eyes twinkling with the same warmth you always remembered.

Hotch’s gaze followed yours to the table, his brow furrowing slightly as he took in the scene. He walked over without a word and sat beside you, his presence solid and comforting, even in the silence.

You leaned into him a little, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “I went to mom’s today, and she gave me all of these,” you explained quietly, gesturing toward the photographs. “I wasn’t expecting to… I don’t know, feel this way.”

Hotch slipped an arm around you, grounding you without interrupting your thoughts.

Your thumb brushed the edge of the photo in your hand, the texture familiar, like you had held it a hundred times before. “That’s me and my grandad,” you said softly. “I miss him. He always knew how to make things feel better, you know?”

Hotch nodded, his eyes on the photograph now, though he stayed silent, giving you space to share whatever you needed.

“I remember when this picture was taken. It was a summer afternoon. We’d just come back from the park, and I had scraped my knee running after the dog.” You smiled faintly, the memory so vivid it was almost like stepping back in time. “I was crying so much, and he just scooped me up like it was nothing, sat me on his knee, and blew all the pain away he said. It worked, of course.”

Hotch's thumb traced soft circles on your arm, a quiet comfort that encouraged you to keep going.

You picked up another photo, this one of your grandad during the last Christmas you got to spend with him. “This was the last Christmas, I never knew he was as sick as he was,” you murmured, your voice catching slightly. “He loved hosting everyone, their house was always open, whether it be people from church or his patients at work, always pretending like it wasn’t a big deal, he was so proud of it.”

The lump in your throat grew, but you didn’t stop. You wanted to keep talking, wanted to share these pieces of yourself and your grandad with Hotch.

“He taught me so much, not just the little things, but how to… how to love and care for people. I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about him today. He would’ve liked you a lot, Aaron,” you added, turning your head slightly to glance at him.

Hotch’s eyes softened, his hand resting on your back as he gave you a gentle squeeze. “I would’ve liked to have met him,” he said quietly, his voice was low and soothing.

You nodded, feeling the familiar weight of longing settling in your chest again. But being here, with Hotch beside you, made it a little easier to bear. His quiet understanding, the way he didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless words to coax you into being happy - it was exactly what you needed.

For the next hour, you kept sorting through the photos, talking when the memories felt too strong to hold back, and simply resting when the words wouldn’t come. Hotch stayed right there with you, listening, holding you, and occasionally picking up a picture to ask about it, his voice always gentle, never rushing or forcing information out of you.

It wasn’t until the last photograph was placed on the table that you finally exhaled, feeling a little lighter, even though the ache was still there. You leaned into Hotch’s warmth, your head on his shoulder again.

“Thank you,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Hotch pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Always.”

And in that quiet moment, you realized that while you couldn’t go back to those days with your grandad, the love and memories he left behind would always be a part of you - and now, they were something you could share with the person sitting beside you.

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sabersandsnipers · 1 year ago

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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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loveesiren · 3 months ago

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Champagne & Sunshine (Pt.1)

JJ Maybank x Reader

Synopsis: Y/n celebrates six months in the OBX with her best friend JJ and the rest of the Pogues. Although Kiara isn't overly happy about it.

Warnings: Alcohol, language

Word Count: 3.8k+

Y/N's POV:

You pulled up to the beach in your dad's '95 Benz Truck. The one you had just inherited for your birthday. Your dad offered to buy you a new car but you wanted this one. It was your favorite.

"There's Barbie!" You hear JJ holler as you get out of the car.

You smile, holding up two bottles of champagne. You swayed you hips, your long hair draped over your shoulder. JJ was practically drooling at the sight of you in your booty shorts and crop top, belly ring dazzling in the sunlight.

"Well if it isn't miss Kylie Jenner, ladies and gentlemen." Kiara scoffs.

"Good to see you too, Kie." You smile at her. You didn't hate Kiara. But she had a thing for JJ and it was quite literally impossible for JJ to focus on anything else when he was in your presence. You remained friendly to her. You were friendly to everyone.

"What's the special occasion, mama?" JJ asks as you approach him and wrap your arms around him. He grabs your hips and pulls you into him, his arms snaking around your lower back as he takes in your scent.

"I've officially been in the OBX for 6 months and I've made some amazing friends!" You say happily.

"Weren't you like the Kook Queen of LA? How'd you even end up with us again?" Pope asks playfully.

"Cuz this one here wouldn't leave me alone," You chuckle, pointing to JJ.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to not be obsessed with you?" JJ smiles.

You can feel Kie rolling her eyes but you couldn't care less.

"I don't think stalking the new girl and somehow managing to fall flat on your face every time she speaks to you is the best method to getting the girl." Pope laughs.

"She's here isn't she?" JJ says, motioning to you standing right beside him.

You laugh at their exchange. "Here," You hand Pope a bottle of champagne. "I have more in the cooler," You motion to the G-Wagon. "JJ, help me out?"

"Anything for you, m'lady." He says, following you closely back to your car. You open the trunk and JJ grabs the cooler. You grab some towels and walk back over to where everyone sat on the beach.

You lay a towel down a bit further from wherever else sat and you and JJ sat down.

"There she blows!" JJ said as he popped off the cork to the champagne. You giggled as some of it spilled onto your tan skin. "Ladies first," He says, offering you the bottle.

"Such a gentlemen," You tease before pressing the bottle to your lips and taking a sip.

JJ watched you, smile wide on his face.

"Hey, if you're sick of being hit on by the Kook Klan you can come slum it with the Pogues."

You turn around to see a shaggy haired blonde boy smiling widely at you. You return a smile. "Pogues?"

"Yeah, ya know, we aren't all rich and pretentious like those ones," He nods towards Rafe and Topper, the two boys who had been on your tail all night. "But we know how to have a good time."

"Uhm, yeah, that sounds good. Kind of sick of hearing about golf." You chuckle.

"Well you're in luck, Princess! All we do is surf."

"I love surfing!" You say excitedly. "I haven't been out here yet."

"A woman after my own heart." He smiles. "I'm JJ."

"Y/N," You respond, offering your hand.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to the Pogue life!" JJ says as he throws his arm around your neck and guides you down to a small fire his friends were sitting around. "Guys, this is Y/N! Y/N, this is John B, Pope, Kie, and Sarah. Sarah is Rafe's sister but she's way cooler."

"Hey guys!" You say sweetly. Everyone offers you a smile, Kie's smile was less that genuine but you didn't let it bother you.

"Holy shit, where are you from and why did you follow JJ over here?" Pope asks jokingly as he takes in your features.

Your long hair extensions, bright pink claws, your mini skirt and heels, you were obviously not from the Outer Banks and you were definitely not a Pogue.

"California! Calabasas." You smile. "You guys seem cooler than those douche bags." You laugh, turning and pointing to Rafe and Topper who were glaring in your direction.

"So sorry you had to be subjected to my brother and my ex," Sarah giggled. "They are both douchebags."

You laughed. "Yeah, I gathered that almost immediately."

You and JJ sat down. "So, Y/N, you surf?" John B asks, almost expecting you to say no. You were nice, but you definitely seemed like you'd rather spend a day at the mall than on the water.

"Yep!" You say, shocking everyone. "Used to go every day back home."

"Think you can keep up here?" JJ teased.

You turn to look at him with a flirty smile. "Barbie, eat your heart out."

Ever since you and JJ met that night, he'd been head over heels for you. You grew incredibly close to him and his friends. You'd spend your days surfing, absolutely schooling them almost every time. Days out on the Pogue, fishing and drinking. It was a whole different life than you were used to and you couldn't be happier. Truth was, you had it bad for JJ too, but you loved teasing him.

You laid down in JJ's lap, letting the sun kiss your bronze skin. He twirled your hair around in his finger. "Did you get new extensions?" He asked.

"Yeah, it was about damn time. Mine were so grown out."

"So soft..." JJ mutters as he works on braiding a small part of your hair.

"Want me to get you some extensions, J?" You giggle.

"Absolutely," He chuckles.

You take another sip of champagne before reaching your hand up and stroking your nails down JJ's leg. You could feel goosebumps form on his skin under your touch and you smiled.

It had been six months of dancing around the obvious with JJ. The way he was constantly hanging all over you, making you laugh. The way his eyes lit up when you entered the room. The way he'd stumble over his words whenever you offered a flirtatious remark.

And your actions didn't go unnoticed either. The way your long legs were always draped over his lap. The way you beamed up at him when he was goofing off. The way you blushed whenever he called you Barbie or Princess.

Never in a million years did the island of Kildare think they'd see what could be the sixth Kardashian sister pine over a "loser" like JJ Maybank but that's exactly what happened. No one ever made you feel so happy and free like JJ Maybank did.

The Pogues were happy for you both, well, except for Kiara. She was civil, but her jealousy was obvious. The Kooks, well, the Kooks hated it. Whenever they got a minute alone with you at a party they'd talk shit on JJ and your friends, saying you're too good for them. You'd just scoff and go find your best friend, grinding against him and hanging on his neck while you looked them dead in the eyes. You left your fake, pretentious friends back in Calabasas. When you moved here and met the Pogues, you became a whole new person. You finally felt like you belonged.

"Are we gonna surf or what?" Kiara asked, eyeing you and JJ being overly friendly.

"Hell yeah we're gonna surf!" You shoot up, running to your car and grabbing your board.

The waves were fierce today and you were the first one in the water, catching the first wave immediately and riding it out perfectly before the others could even catch up.

"She's way too good at this. I still can barely stand." Sarah says to Kie and John B.

"Yeah, when we first met her I thought there was no way she could keep up." John B replies, watching you ride out another wave.

"She's not that great," Kie scoffs.

"Come on, Kie. I know you've had a thing for JJ but Y/N is cool! And JJ seems happy, that's what's important right?" Sarah says.

Kie watches as you and JJ take on a wave together. She chews on her lip, admiring the boy she'd been in love with for so long. But Sarah was right, JJ really was happy. Happier than he'd ever been since you came into their lives.

"I am happy for him. I just wish she wasn't the only thing he cared about." Kie responds.

"He still cares about you, Kie. About all of us. He's just...he's never had...that." John B says, motioning to you. JJ had some hook ups, of course, but he'd never had a girl that was so obviously into him the way he was in her, even if they still were too shy to admit it.

"Just didn't think he'd fall for a girl like her," Kie says quietly before paddling out into the water.

After a long day of surfing, and finally helping Sarah ride out a full wave, you headed back to the Chateau.

"You did so good, Sarah!" You say, clanking your glass to hers before slurping down more champagne.

"I literally cannot believe I did that," She chuckles. "Thanks for teaching me."

"Any time babes!" You says, swimming over to her and kissing her on the cheek.

John B and Sarah sit across from you and JJ in the hot tub, the champagne coursing through your veins was obvious as you and JJ got more and more touchy, as you always did when the liquid courage took over.

Kie and Pope sat in the lawn chairs just outside the hot tub.

Kie watched as you sang the lyrics of Champagne and Sunshine, clinging to JJ as you did. The way his face lit up at the way you smiled made her frown.

"I'm sorry, Kie." Pope said, placing a hand on her knee.

"What does he see in her?"

"I don't know, I mean, she's goofy like him. She surfs. She's always happy-"

"Not helping, Pope." Kie cuts him off. Kiara had trouble seeing past the fake hair, fake nails, and fake lashes. As if those things meant your personality was fake. But you weren't fake. You were nothing but kind to everyone you met. Your feelings for JJ were genuine. You were more than happy to be a "Pogue". Even if you looked like a Kook, you wanted nothing to do with that side of the island.

"Sorry," Pope says. "I just mean, I think she's a good match for JJ. And I know that's not what you want to hear but he's happy. And you'll be happy too."

Kiara offers a small smile and nods.

"If it were me, I know who'd I choose." Pope says.

Kiara looks up at him with wide eyes. Pope offers a sympathetic smile and Kie quickly looks away, hiding the pink that was spreading across her cheeks.

You were all tipsy, laughing and singing along to the music. JJ's hand squeezed your hip as he brought a lighter to the joint between his lips.

You straddled his lap and he looked up at you with wide eyes. "Hey, princess!" He says, really enjoying the feeling of your clothed pussy hovering just above his member.

You looked down at the blue eyes you'd fallen so madly in love with. You smile and take the joint from between his lips. You bring it to yours and inhale deeply before passing it off to John B without taking your eyes of JJ's.

You smile, placing your hands softly on either side of JJ's jawline and pull his lips to yours, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. He inhales as he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into him.

Your lips lock together and you can feel the electricity course through your body. Six long months of waiting for this moment. Six months of falling head over heels for your best friend.

His lips were soft, the kiss was gentle, but hungry. You could tell he'd been waiting for this minute for as long as you had.

The world disappeared around you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Yours danced with his as you felt his arm grip your waist tighter and his fingers gently pulled at your hair.

"Ow! Ow!"

"Fucking finally!"

You smile against JJ's lips as you hear your friends holler around you. You flip them off as you continue lose yourself in the one man that's ever made you feel at home.

You don't notice Kiara storming off into the Chateau and Pope following her.

"Shit," You hear Sarah whisper.

You pull back slightly and and lock eyes with JJ, biting your lip as you try to contain your smile.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that." JJ chuckles.

"I think I might have an idea," You tease, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his neck.

JJ places kisses along your neck and shoulder. You could feel him smile against your skin.

JJ's POV:

I can feel her smiling against my neck. Did that really just happen? I thought to myself. My absolute dream girl was clinging to me as tightly as I clung to her. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

"You're so perfect." I mumble against her skin.

She chuckles and leans back, her Y/E/C eyes studying my face. "Shut up," She teases. I smile and bring both my hands to her hips, brushing my thumb over skin as I looked up at her. I think I'm fucking in love.

"Hey guys," John B's voice ruins the moment.

"What?" I ask, not taking my eyes off Y/N.

"Uh, don't get me wrong. I love this for you guys. But I think Kiara is upset."

Y/N's expression changes as she slides off my lap and moves away. The loss of her touch left me feeling cold even though I was immersed in the hot water.

I groan under my breath. I didn't want it to seem like I didn't care about Kie but I didn't have those feelings for her. Y/N was everything I've ever wanted. And Y/N was far too sweet. If Kie was uncomfortable, of course she was going to back off.

"I'll go talk to her," I say, hopping out of the hot tub and placing a kiss on Y/N's temple.

I see Kie and Pope on the couch when I enter the Chateau. "Kie, can we talk?" Kie looks up at me with tear stricken eyes. "Pope, scram!" I say as I sit on the coffee table across from Kiara. Pope does as he's told. "Kie, what's going on?" I ask, taking her chin and forcing her to look at me.

"Doesn't matter, JJ." She said sourly.

"It does matter! You're my best friend. Why are you upset?"

"Just go back to your valley girl," She mutters. I clench my jaw. Kiara was constantly judging Y/N for not being Pogue material. She'd never taken the time to get to know her.

"Why do you hate her?" I ask, standing up from the table and walking around the room. "What has she done to you?"

"I don't hate her JJ," Kiara begins. "I just...she's not a real Pogue! She's fake as fuck!"

"Fake hair doesn't make her fake, Kiara. You haven't even tried to be her friend."

Kiara just scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Look Kie," I sigh. "I love you. You're my best friend, okay? But I really, really like Y/N. It would mean a lot to me if you could get along with her. She's nothing but nice to you."

Kiara purses her lips and nods as she stares at the ground. "I don't think that's going to happen."

Y/N's POV:

"Fuck, I feel bad." You say, grinding your acrylic nail between your teeth.

"Don't feel bad, Y/N. JJ is obsessed with you, and it's obvious you're into him too. You guys deserve to be happy." Sarah reassures you.

"Kie's never liked me. I feel like I just came in and fucked everything up."

"You didn't," John B says. "JJ's never been happier. We all love having you around. Kie will come around in time."

JJ and Kie come out of the Chateau. They both looked unhappy and it made your stomach turn. JJ came over to you and pressed his lips to your ear. "Can we go to your place?" He asked.

JJ stayed at your house often. It wasn't a weird request. But you could tell something wasn't right in his voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." You say as you climb out of the hot tub. You dry yourself off with your towel and grab your bag. "We'll catch you guys tomorrow!" You say as you and JJ start towards your car.

"Hope she's still pretty when you fuck all the fake off her!" A tipsy Kiara yells after you. You and JJ stop in your tracks. You'd been nothing but nice to Kiara since the night you met her. You tried to be her friend and she always shrugged you off. You were honestly sick of it.

You turn on your heel and start back towards her. "What the hell is your problem, Kiara?!" You spit.

"I just think JJ deserves better than some Malibu Barbie who will turn on him as soon as shit gets hard." She hisses back.

"You don't fucking know me!" You yell. "You've made no effort in getting to know me! Everyone else seems to like me. I've never given you a reason to fucking hate me aside from the fact that you're obsessed with JJ and he doesn't feel the same towards you!"

She scrunches up her face at your words.

You'd been nice for too long and you could feel the California version of yourself coming out. You approach her calmly as you cross your arms over your chest. You lean towards her, tongue sliding across your bottom lip. "You can hate me all you want. That won't stop JJ from absolutely losing himself inside me tonight." You whisper with a smile.

You chuckle before turning around and heading back to your car. You hop in the driver's seat. You watch as everyone is silent. JJ stares at Kiara for a moment, you can see her trying to hold back tears. JJ shakes his head at her before turning and climbing into your car.

The car ride was silent as you headed towards Figure Eight. You couldn't help but start to feel guilty the longer you drove. You didn't want to hurt Kiara. You were just so fed up with her treating you this way.

"Hey you two!" Your mom gushes as you and JJ walk into the kitchen.

"Hey mom!" You say.

"Hey, Mrs. Y/L/N!" JJ says.

"Are you guys hungry? I made pizza!"

You and JJ exchange a glance. Neither of you really had an appetite after what just happened. "Maybe later," You say. "We're gonna go watch a movie."

"Okay, Sweetie. Your father and I are meeting some friends at the club. We'll be home later."

"Sounds good!" You say, dragging JJ up the stairs to your room.

Your parents loved JJ. Back in California there were no Kooks or Pogues. Your mom and dad grew up working for everything they have now. They were the last people to judge. They knew about JJ's home life and insisted he stay at your house whenever he needed. He was nothing but respectful to your parents and your little sister, Marley.

Your parents were rich and boujee and well respected but as soon as they got home and kicked off their designer clothes, they were stoners at heart. You came from a long line of hippies. Your parents wouldn't forget that. However, they still loved life's luxuries and wanted the best for you and Marley, so they put on a Kook front for the new island you now called home.

Once you and JJ were in your room, he flopped onto your bed and groaned.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said to Kie. I-"

"Don't be sorry, Y/N." JJ said. "She's been such a bitch to you since you moved here. I don't blame you for getting upset."

"Still. I shouldn't have said what I said." You moved to your closet, slipping out of your bikini and throwing on a t-shirt and panties. You grabbed some gym shorts for JJ and tossed them to him. He had left many clothes at your house over the last six months.

"I tried to talk to her. Tried to ask her to be civil," He said as he slid his shorts on. "She's just fucking stubborn."

You nodded, heading to your bathroom to take your make up off. JJ followed you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. You smiled at the gesture.

"Can I do it?" JJ asked as he saw you reaching for your lashes.

You giggled. "Yeah, JJ, you can do it."

You sat down on your closed toilet and looked up at JJ, closing your eyes. He took your lashes between his fingers and slowly began pulling.

"Just yank it off, JJ!" You laugh.

"I don't want to hurt you!"

"It won't hurt, just rip it."

JJ does as he told and you smile at the instant relief your eyelid felt.

"So weird," JJ says as he fiddles with the lashes in his fingers, flicking them to the side like they are a spider.

"If it freaks you out why do you always want to do it?" You giggle.

"Cuz it's satisfying," He tells you as he leans down to pull your other lashes off. Once he does, he grabs your make up remover and a cotton pad, slowly removing all the make up from your skin. You relax under his touch, enjoying the way he knows how to take care of you.

Once he finishes removing your make up, he ties your hair back, careful of you extensions like you showed him. He washes your face and puts on you moisturizer.

"There. So fucking pretty." He says as he admires your bare face.

You smile up at him, begging for him to kiss you but you know he's too shy.

JJ leads you back to your bed and you both climb under the covers. "What episode were we on?" He asks as he scrolls through Kardashian reruns.

"Uhhhh, Khloe divorcing Lamar." You say. JJ finds the episode and throws the remote to the side. He wraps you tightly in your arms and your throw your arm and leg over his body, nuzzling against his chest.

You felt your eyes growing heavy as JJ ran his fingers over your arm. You couldn't help but smile as you thought about your life. Last year you were stuck in a place full of fake ass people who didn't give a shit about your well being. Now, you were laying in bed watching the Kardashians with a boy who literally couldn't get enough of you. A boy who took the time to learn everything about you. How to care for your hair extensions, take off your make up properly, what colors you liked your nails. A boy who knew you were petrified of spiders and heights. A boy that could make you laugh for hours on end. A boy who'd bring you your favorite food at 2am just because you texted him that you were hungry. A perfect boy.

You couldn't deny the fact that you were absolutely in love with JJ Maybank.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

#c&s #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx pogues #obx fandom #obx fic #champagne & sunshine

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