#molly appreciation week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

evadnegrand · 3 months ago

Text

Hanging the Stars

Summary: This new Sherlock was not the same caustic Sherlock who had dazzled her with his brilliance when she’d met him almost a decade ago. His sharp, caustic edges had been smoothed.

Written for the MHAW2024.

My prompt for this was: "I don't feel so good."

AO3 Link

Rating: General

“I don’t feel so good.”

“Sherlock, you claim to have a concussion. Lie down.”

The consulting detective wobbled on his feet. Molly gave him a firm push between the shoulder blades, and he toppled face first onto the sofa.

“Should you be doing that if he’s hit his head?” Mrs. Hudson asked, wringing her hands.

“He’s fine,” Molly said grimly.

Sherlock agreed, sticking out a long arm and holding his thumb up, his face still planted in the sofa cushions.

“When John said to look in on you while he was out of town, this is not what I expected,” she said. She parted his dark curls and probed the back of his head. “Are you sure you didn’t see the person that hit you?”

“I was ambushed,” he complained, though his voice was muffled.

Molly glanced at Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson shook her head and held up her hands. “Don’t look at me, dear. I was in the kitchen when he knocked.”

“He knocked?”

“Well, he collapsed against the door, but it did sound like a knock.”

Molly sighed.

“Can I help?” Mrs. Hudson asked, shuffling closer.

“How about some tea?” Molly suggested.

Mrs. Hudson brightened at this suggestion. “Yes, yes, I can do that.”

As soon as she disappeared down the stairs, Molly sat down on the coffee table and poked Sherlock’s cheek.

“That hurts,” he groaned, turning his face to look at her.

“No one hit you, Sherlock. You fell. Now, you explain to me how a reasonably healthy man suddenly falls and hits the back of his head.”

“You think I’m high.”

She crossed her arms and leveled a glare at him.

“I’m not.” He leveraged himself upright, groping his hand on the wall to steady himself. “I’m just concussed.”

“Arms?”

Grumbling, he rolled up his sleeves to present his bare arms. Molly inspected them, feeling a wave of relief at finding no new track marks. Of course, he could have just taken his drugs as pills, she told herself, quashing her relief.

“Do I need to call your brother?”

He winced. “I already have a headache.”

“Sherlock,” she said in a warning tone. “Tell me what happened.”

“Fine,” he said. “But it was supposed to be a surprise.”

Lurching to his feet, he shook his head, grimacing at the pain and lumbered towards the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“To show you the scene of the crime.”

Molly froze in the doorway of John’s old bedroom.

He’d never moved back to Baker Street after Sherlock faked his death. The last Molly knew, Mrs. Hudson had been using his old room for storage. But the room had been transformed.

Pink ruffled blankets covered the bed. A new white bookcase was pushed up against the wall under the window and children’s books were stuffed haphazardly on its shelves. The floor was covered in a rug the color of sunshine, and the half of the ceiling was festooned with glow-in-the-dark stars. A step ladder lay on its side in the middle of the floor, and she spotted blood on the corner of the bookshelf.

“Sherlock?” Molly said softly, gaping at the changes. “What is this?”

“My blood,” he said, wiping it off the bookshelf with a handkerchief which he stuffed back in his pocket. “Oh, you mean the room! It’s for Rosie. She’s too big for the travel cot now.”

“You did this, all of this, for Rosie?” Molly said, stunned.

It had been about six months since Sherlock, John, and Mycroft had first visited Sherringford. Six months since the agonizing phone call where a broken Sherlock had begged her to tell him that she loved him. They’d never spoken about it. John had written a blog about a series of challenges that sounded like something straight out of a horror film, but Sherlock had remained tight-lipped about the experience.

Molly stepped into the room and bent down to pick up a plastic packet of stars from the floor.

Sherlock slumped down on the bed. “Fell off the stupid step ladder,” he muttered.

“Do you want help?” she asked.

His face brightened.

Molly blushed. “Rosie’s my goddaughter, too, you know. The least I can do is help hang the stars for her.”

With Sherlock looking up constellations on his phone and Molly on the step ladder they made quick work of sticking the last of the stars to the ceiling. While they worked, they discussed additional decorations. Molly said she had a few decorative cushions in her flat that would match the bedspread, and when she mused that Rosie might like an anatomically correct model of the human heart to play with, Sherlock enthusiastically ordered one from eBay.

Mrs. Hudson brought up tea and exclaimed about the room. While she fussed over a flustered Sherlock, Molly slipped down to the kitchen to make up an ice pack. When she returned she handed it sheepishly to Sherlock.

“Sorry for assuming you were high,” she said, unable to meet his eye.

“It was a reasonable deduction given past circumstances, and I’m sorry for that.” he said contritely, accepting the ice.

“It’s so nice that you two have kissed and made up,” said Mrs. Hudson, clasping her hands together.

Molly’s cheeks burned crimson red. “No, no, we didn’t, er, that is to say.”

Sherlock bent his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Her face wrinkled in confusion. This new Sherlock was not the same caustic Sherlock who had dazzled her with his brilliance when she’d met him almost a decade ago. His sharp, caustic edges had been smoothed. His cruelty replaced with something like genuine empathy and kindness.

“Now we’ve kissed and made up,” he said softly. The corners of his eyes crinkled and then his lips followed in a smile.

“Good!” declared Mrs. Hudson before she bustled out of the room leaving them alone. Sherlock leaped away from her and hunted for the plastic bag the stars had come in.

“Sherlock,” Molly said quietly, “What happened with your sister?”

With his back to her, he scooped up the extra stars and dumped them back into the plastic bag. She thought he hadn’t heard her, and she opened her mouth to repeat the question when he finally spoke.

“John wrote a blog about it,” he said, resealing the bag.

“I read it.”

“Then you know everything there is to know.” Sherlock sat down on the frilly pink bedspread. Molly sat down beside him. She put her hand on his knee.

“Sherlock, I’m sorry--” Molly began.

“She used you as part of a game. She shouldn’t have done that. It hurt you.” He tipped the stars out of the bag into his hand and stared at them blankly. “And I should have done something to protect you, but I didn’t.”

Molly let her head rest against his shoulder. “She put you in an impossible position. It wasn’t fair.”

“And it hurt you,” he repeated. He closed his fist around the plastic stars and squeezed.

She put her hand over his closed fist. “It hurt you too.”

“I should have said it before that. If I’d said it before that, then it wouldn’t have hurt at all. You would have told me freely because you wanted to and it wouldn’t have broken your heart.”

Tears prickled in her eyes and Molly swallowed thickly. If he’d told her that he loved her before that, she would have gladly declared her love to him over the phone. Eurus’ game would have been thwarted and she would have been spared excruciating heartache.

“It’s true,” Sherlock continued, opening his fist. She removed her hand from his. The points of the stars had left deep red indentations on his palm. Shaking his hand, he let the stars fall and scatter on the floor. “It’s true so, I should have told you earlier.”

Molly could scarcely take a breath. “What’s true?”

He lifted his head and his pale eyes met hers. “I do love you.”

Silence stretched between them. He didn’t look away. He didn’t even blink.

“Are you joking?” she managed to croak out in a whisper.

Without breaking eye contact he shook his head. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her and she turned her head, shifting away from him. She clutched the hem of her jumper in her fingers.

“It’s not a very funny joke, Sherlock.” Her voice was quavering. She cleared her throat and tried again. “You have to stop teasing people like this.”

“Molly Hooper,” he said--and was it her imagination, or had his voice dropped an octave. He touched her elbow with the tips of his fingers. “Molly Hooper, I love you.”

Hot tears flashed down her cheeks and despite a valiant effort to remain stoic, her chin wobbled.

“And I am very sorry.”

Later she couldn’t say if she fell into his arms, or if he’d pulled her into his embrace. But she did know that she cried against his chest, clutching his shirt in her fist, for a very long time. Sherlock said nothing, but curled himself around her, his chin resting on the top of her head, his long arms wrapped around her body.

Molly sniffled. “I love you too, you idiot.”

His laugh rumbled in his chest against her ear. “Good. I don’t think I could have survived unrequited love.”

She huffed. “Might have done you some good.”

He leaned back so that he could look down at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, it’s unnatural.”

A smile lit up his whole face.

“Except when you’ve done something wrong, then you should always apologize,” she added quickly, lest he get any ideas.

“Noted.”

From downstairs they heard Mrs. Hudson calling for Sherlock. Without moving an inch, he shouted back that he was busy.

Molly winced, covering her ears. “You should see what she wants.”

Sherlock pouted. “But I’m concussed!”

Scrambling out of his lap, she grabbed his hand. “You’re not concussed. You’re fine.”

“Fine, doctor,” he grumbled, allowing her to pull him to his feet. He opened his mouth and paused. In a whisper he said, “I’m about to shout.”

Molly clapped her hands over her ears.

“I’m coming, Mrs. Hudson!!”

Giggling, Molly followed him downstairs.

#molly hooper appreciation week #Molly Hooper #Sherlock Holmes #Fanfiction #Sherlolly #bbc sherlock #Molly x Sherlock

12 notes · View notes

nickfowlerrr · 1 month ago

Text

something good and true - part 1

part two / part three / part four

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings (for all parts in whole): 18+ only. domestic violence. retelling of abuse and battery. minor character death mentioned. angst. sweet and protective bucky. fluff. not sure if this qualifies as a slow burn or not 👀 smut. there’s a happy ending! (as per usual)

words: 4.5k

notes: this fic was supposed to be posted last year for suz’s blind date writing challenge but clearly that is not what happened. a year later and some thousands+ words over the maximum allowed (in total), i was finally able to wrap this thing up. i’m posting in parts bc it’s just so long and ahhh i’m sorry i didn’t follow your rules suz @targaryenvampireslayer 😭 and honest to god there is absolutely no expectation for you to read or even acknowledge this! i just want to give credit where credit is due and so this, my first mob boss!fic, is all thanks to the mob boss au prompt you had given to me! so thank you - and sorry again 🫢 dialogue used: “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”. thank you in advance for reading, i’d be happy to hear your thoughts! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

He’s staring again. You can feel it. The heat creeps up your spine as your heart begins to beat a little faster. The feeling has become quite familiar. It’s been two months of this. You had a feeling he’d be back, but really you hoped he’d have just let it go by now. It’s not like you thought any of this through, though… Of course there’d be consequences; and none worse, you’re sure, than the ones he could dish out.

It’s not your fault, you try to remind yourself. It’s not. You finish wiping off the table of the newly vacated booth, tucking the cash tip left for you in your pocket, before you turn around.

You steel yourself, taking a strong breath before you start to walk toward his private booth. You’re not stupid, you know the only reason he comes here is for you, he told you as much himself. And everyone else knows that too as the place has become nearly empty since his arrival. Even your coworkers aren’t bustling about. You don’t know if you prefer having the audience or not. You don’t blame anyone for their fleeing, though. After all the stories you’d heard about the man, you always made yourself scarce in his presence, too.

Until the faithful night he requested you at his table by name… You sigh, it seems you no longer have the luxury of avoidance.

You remember that night well. The first time you formally met the infamous mob boss, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

You remember how it felt like your blood turned to ice in your very veins when Molly uttered your name with worried eyes, “Mr. Barnes is asking for you specifically,” she had whispered as she peaked into the kitchen where you’d fled when you heard he was being sat at his rarely used, always reserved table.

You felt sick. Like a lead weight was dropped in your stomach. You wrung your hands until it hurt before you finally nodded. You were sure she could see the fear in your eyes when you looked at her. “O-okay. I’ll be right there,” you’d nodded. You had to swallow down the bile threatening to creep up your throat. He knows, you’d thought. He has to know. That’s why he’s here. That’s why he’s looking for you. You were breathing hard and heavy and you could feel the tears welling in your still sensitive eyes. You were caked in makeup, had been all week, to hide the bruises that marred all over your face. It wasn’t anything unusual. But there was an eerie comfort you felt in knowing once they were finally gone this time, you wouldn’t have to see yourself like that again.

You were in a long sleeve so you knew he wouldn’t be able to see the marks along your arms, and unless he had X-ray vision he wouldn’t be able to see the contusions littered all over your body either. You had a brace on your wrist but it wasn’t too noticeable under the sleeve… Okay, you breathed. You can do this. Deny, deny, deny. You don’t even truly know what he’s here for. You shouldn’t freak yourself out before you’ve even seen him.

You exhaled a shaky breath before you reached for the kitchen door.

It was dead silent as you entered the dining hall and it only added to the compounding fear and anxiety growing inside you.

You approached his table cautiously, too nervous to make direct eye contact as you held your pen and pad in hand.

“Good evening, sir, - uhm, Mr. Barnes,” you corrected yourself, “can I get you started with something to-“

“I’m not here for drinks or the mediocre food, doll,” he stopped you easily, unnervingly calm.

You chanced a glance at him and his deep blue gaze had you swallowing hard.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you stayed quiet as he stared at you. Like he knew something. Like he knew you knew something.

“Hm,” he considered you for a moment longer before nodding, “ya know, I think you know why I’m here.”

“I-“, you shook your head almost imperceptibly, “I don’t,” was all you could muster as your eyes were now glued to him. You couldn’t will yourself to look away. You were too terrified.

He licked his lip seemingly out of habit before he spoke again.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asked, sounding exasperated, bored of the interaction already as he tilted his head at you.

You stiffened at the question, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“I don’t-“

“You do.” He stopped you again, the certainty in his voice leaving no room to deny his accusation. His eyes cutting into you as you stood before him, defenseless. You felt like you couldn’t breathe but you couldn’t just stand there looking terrified. You had to work up your voice and it came out quiet, but Bucky was listening, and watching you, intently.

“I don’t know where Freddy is,” you said, voice low, trying to keep the tremor from it as you finally felt your eyes sting, the fear and pain catching up to you as you blinked the would be tears away before a single one fell. “And he’s not my boyfriend,” you swallowed, “anymore.”

“No?”

“No. We broke up…about a month ago.”

“That’s interesting…” he hummed. “Why did someone see his car at your place the other week, then, huh?”

You winced at the images that ran through your mind as you thought back to that day, the one you knew he was referring to.

“He came over, to talk,” you forced out, no longer looking at the man before you. “But nothing came from it,” you added quickly, “and he left. I haven’t seen him since. Haven’t heard from him, I don’t know where he is.”

You didn’t look at him but by the weight of his gaze you knew he wasn’t buying what you were selling.

“What happened here?” he asked, reaching for your hand.

You were quite literally frozen to your spot as he grabbed your hand in his. His touch was the most gentle you’d experienced in a long while and it sent an unexpected hum through you. You watched your hand in his as he pulled you just the tiniest bit closer to him and the table. He inched up your sleeve to see more of the brace on your wrist and when he moved to raise your sleeve further up your arm, your body finally moved into action. You yanked your hand back, as if his touch had burned you, keeping him from seeing anything more than the brace.

“Fell,” you answered shortly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, but I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t know where he is. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t really care.”

You met his eye once more, feeling a little safer as the words came easily. It wasn’t a complete lie. You really didn’t know where he was. And you certainly didn’t care. Despite the scrutiny of the mob boss’ gaze, you didn’t feel nearly as scared as you had before he touched your hand. Something about the softness there… You wouldn’t dwell on it.

“If there’s nothing else,” you added, though it was definitely more of an unspoken question than anything. You weren’t as scared but you weren’t stupid either. You wouldn’t be going anywhere until he dismissed you.

He smirked, huffing a laugh as he watched you.

“You hear from him, I’d be grateful to know,” he slipped his hand into his coat pocket and took out a business card, placing it on the table as he flicked his sharp eyes up to you once more, moving to pull out his wallet next. You watched as he slipped out two bills and blanched as he put them down on the table, moving the card so it sat on the money.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood from his seat, standing right in front of you as you took in his build and stature. Everything about him screamed success, power, and authority and the two hundreds he left on the table were nothing more than chump change to him, you were sure.

“Just so you know, doll,” he spoke lowly, “I will find him, one way or another,” he took a step closer to you, “and if you think you’re protecting him by not telling me the truth, I promise you’re not.” He held your gaze and you were terrified he could see straight into your soul with how intent it was, “What’s even worse, is he knows we know all about you. He doesn’t care if he’s putting you in harm’s way or not… Forgive me for saying, but nice girl like you, you deserve a hell of a lot better than that. So, if you think of anything you might wanna tell me, my number’s right there,” he said looking back over to the card and money on the table. “That’s your tip. You enjoy your night, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you.”

His words weren’t a threat, but a promise.

He would be seeing you. Didn’t always call you to his table, sometimes just observed you while you worked, but every week without fail from that day on, he would be at the restaurant.

You never called him, you didn’t have anything to say. You wouldn’t tell him the truth, no, you couldn’t tell him the truth. He was half right, you were protecting someone. But it wasn’t Freddy.

You breathe another strong sigh as you get closer to him and once you’re at the table, you don’t say a word, only meeting his brilliant and pointed gaze.

There’s something different about him tonight, something unnerving in his stare that you take notice of right away. You work to keep your calm but you’re not sure how convincing your faux headstrong demeanor is tonight.

He lets the silence between you grow for a moment longer before finally, he speaks.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

His voice is like honey, smooth and rich with that familiar lilt as his lips quirk up just at the corner of his mouth. It warms you while he holds your eye. There’s unspoken tension between you two as you stand so close yet so far, it’s been brewing since your first meeting and has only grown with each interaction since. You’ve never named it, but you couldn’t deny it if you’d wanted to. You haven’t felt your tummy flutter like this since…you can’t remember when.

Surely he knows what his gaze does to anyone, you’re no exception. But the nerves you feel under the weight of his stare are twofold - not all due to fear, but to flustering.

You haven’t responded, but you’ve held his eye in the silence. He smirks at you before gesturing to the open space across from him.

“Why don’t you take a seat, sweetheart.”

It sounds like an invitation, but you know it’s more than that.

It’s an instruction.

You look around briefly, as if someone might stop you or get you in trouble - but that’s laughable when you’re standing next to, arguably, the most feared and respected man this city has ever seen. Standing. Why is he standing? You realize suddenly he’s still waiting for you to move.

You do as he said and gingerly sit down across from him. He retakes his own seat as you settle. How chivalrous.

“I’ll get right to it,” he starts, his deep blue eyes never leaving you, “Freddy-“

God, that name. You can’t hold your tongue. You know it’s why he’s here but you don’t want to talk about this. You just want this to be over!

“Like I told you the last time, and the time before, and the time before, and every other time you’ve asked, I haven’t seen him.” You cut him off without thinking. But you really can’t have the same conversation again. You can’t keep having to think about him. About that night. You're at your wits end - you don’t want to have to so much as hear his name again. You don’t catch yourself in the moment but it hits you when you’re done talking that you just spoke to Bucky in such a familiar way…someone walking past might wonder who exactly you are to him. Clearly you’ve forgotten your place, gotten a little too comfortable around him.

You look up from where you watch yourself wring your hand and shamefully meet his eye again. You inhale and start to apologize but he doesn’t give you the chance.

His hand is on yours before you realize he’s even moving and you flinch a second late, his gentle touch already on you, stilling your nervous habit.

His eyes soften as he makes you meet his gaze, his thumb gently rubbing your fidgety hand.

You swallow hard and watch as he blinks away the previous softness in his gaze, his familiar confident twinkle back as he speaks,

“I know,” he nods, his hand still on yours. He’s closer as he leans across the table. “I found him.”

Your breath catches and your face falls. Fuck fuck fuck.

What does that mean? What does he know? You’re on the verge of having a complete freak out and god he can probably see it written all over your face. You feel a squeeze of your hand and are brought back into your body, into this very moment.

“Don’t look so sick, sweetheart,” he says, a half smile on his lips. “You don’t have anything to worry about, you or your old man.”

Your heart drops at the mention of your father and Bucky must see it because he leans closer still, now holding your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting, but more so is the look in his eyes. The sincerity there, and the hard edge of protection.

You want to believe him but you’ve been gullible before.

“I just wanna know the whole story. I know pretty much what went down, some things I think can safely be assumed, but I wanna hear your narrative, just to get the full picture and get this whole mess squared away, yeah?”

The way he’s looking deeply into your shining eyes, the intimate gaze and soft touch as it seems like he’s trying to keep you calm, you can’t speak much but you give him a quiet, “yeah.”

He nods and you feel a single tear slip down your cheek. He slowly raises his hand, and your eyes are glued to him as he makes sure you watch his movements. Like he’s trying to reach out to a scared little puppy, he reaches to gently touch your cheek. You don’t flinch but as his hand makes contact with your skin, your eyes shut as you try and suppress a shudder.

“No tears, sweetheart,” he tells you in a soothing timbre as he wipes it from your cheek. “You’re too pretty to cry over a loser like that,” he adds with a soft smile.

You shake your head, “He’s not why I’m-“

“I know,” he cuts you off. “Look at me,” he orders gently.

You do as he says and slowly meet his eye. “You don’t have anything to worry about, ya hear me? Not the police, not my men, and certainly not me. Got it?”

You know you’re staring at him like he’s crazy, but you do understand what he’s saying. It takes you a second but you force yourself to nod.

“Good.”

His touch is still on you as his eyes trail all over your face before he lets his hand slip away.

“Alright, you wanna do this tonight or tomorrow night?”

You’re momentarily stunned. You definitely don’t want to do this tonight. You just need to get through the last two hours here and then you’re headed home to unravel in your own space. But tomorrow…

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” you point out, sounding unsure.

“What,” he sniffs, looking at you once again, “you got plans?”

“I, I have work,” you answer dumbly after a second.

“Not anymore you don’t,” he says, moving to stand. “So tomorrow it is.” He walks closer to you and extends his hand for you to take, helping you out of the booth. “And you’ve got the rest of the night off.”

“Oh, I carpooled today so, I have to wait anyway,” you explain, though the idea of leaving early sounds like heaven.

“I’ll drive you. Get your things, I’ll have the car pulled around,” he supplies easily. He leaves to the front of the restaurant and you stand in your stupor for only a moment longer before you move to get your things from the back. You have a silly thought worrying about giving him your address, then remember he’s had it this entire time. And he told you you had nothing to worry about.

You’re not a typically trusting person, even more so after Fred, but there's something about Bucky. Something trustworthy, something that feels safe.

You grab your bag and let Molly know you’re leaving early and you got a ride before you head to the front to find Bucky.

He’s waiting patiently and his eyes seem to light up just a bit when he sees you coming.

Your manager is smiling tightly behind the stand as she watches you go. You feel slightly bad for just cutting out like this, but once Bucky came in, the place cleared out some, so it’s not like they’re in the midst of a rush.

You let your work worries slip away as the brisk night air hits you, Bucky holds the door for you as you exit and then opens the passenger of his sleek, blacked out Jaguar for you to get in.

You always assumed someone like him, in his position, would have a driver, but maybe that’s just not his style.

Bucky gets in and as you buckle, begins to drive off. You don’t need to supply him with your address as he heads in the right direction without a word.

It’s quiet but not unbearably so. It’s not until you’re just a couple minutes away from your place that he breaks the silence.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. I figure it’s a delicate conversation we’ll be having, so somewhere private would be better. Are you okay with going to my place? We can have dinner.”

It’s a genuine question, and the earnestness of it eases your nerves even further. He’s truly asking, genuinely concerned with your comfortability.

“Mhm,” you nod with a quiet hum. “Yeah.”

He pulls up in front of your house, the porch light on and shining because you knew you wouldn’t be off until late.

The car cuts off and you turn to face Bucky only to find him opening his door and getting out himself.

You grab your bag and follow him with your eyes as he rounds the car to get to your side. He gallantly pulls open the door for you and helps you out with care. You stand and he closes the car door before you start up the path to the front door. It’s a short walk and as you reach the door you turn to look at him as he stays beside you.

“Thank you, for the ride, and…” you trail off not knowing how to articulate what it is you want to say. Thankfully he doesn’t make you continue. He smiles softly at you.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You blink at him. You don’t know what else to say. You finally look away and turn to the door to unlock it.

“When you said I don’t have anything to worry about,”

“I meant you don’t have anything to worry about,” he answers you before you finish your question. “I’m gonna make this all go away, I just need to know if there’s any loose ends we need to tie up to be done with it, that’s all.”

Your eyes sting again. He makes it sound so easy, so simple.

“I-“ your voice threatens to break.

“Hey, we don’t needa talk about it right now, doll. You just go inside, relax, eat, get some rest. You don’t gotta stress a thing anymore, alright? I’ve got you, there’s nothin for you to worry about.”

“…Why are you being so nice to me?” you look at him with bleary eyes as you crack the front door open and ask the question you’ve been wondering for the past two months.

He takes a small step closer to you and gently turns your face to look at him. “Why do you expect cruelty?”

You stutter a breath as you look at him and feel the memories of the year you spent caught up with Freddy stab at you. You know why, and you’re sure he does, too. But there’s no sense of judgment coming from him, and you don’t feel embarrassed; not like the way you do in front of your mom. She’s the only other person who knows what happened, what your dad did. For you.

She never said it, you don’t expect she ever will, but you can sense the thoughts, the subtle judgement from her, especially when this all first happened. She doesn’t know the truth but you don’t have the care to tell her. Because even if what she assumed was true, it doesn’t change anything. No one deserves that.

But the truth is, you didn’t stay. The first time he put his hands on you, you were gone. He just wouldn’t leave you alone. You were together for six months at that point and they were nice, nothing overly romantic like you see in the movies, but nice. You weren’t expecting anything long lasting, marriage wasn’t even a thought. You knew he wasn’t the one, but dating was… fun. And then, one day, a switch flipped.

He wasn’t the kind, but nonchalant guy you thought he was. He was angry, like it was your fault the relationship wasn’t what he wanted, that it wasn’t more. He wanted it to work so badly, but he knew it never would. That only kept his ire burning. And so during the other six months you were ‘together’ you were really nothing close. You avoided him every chance you got and when he’d find his way in he’d always be sure to leave his mark. He kept up appearances of course, to everyone it seemed. You didn’t want to look crazy, so what were you going to say? ‘I broke up with him months ago and I don’t know why he won’t accept that. He uses me like a punching bag when he gets me alone - when he breaks into my car, my home, any way he can weasel into my life.’ He was in with the mob and everyone knew it, so even if they believed you, what the hell would anyone be able to do? At a certain point you just kind of accepted that this must be it. He’d always just be around somehow. Stories of your on and off again relationship floating around thanks to him - he wanted everyone to know that even if you weren’t together, you were together. Making it harder and harder for you in every way possible.

And then, one day, everything changed.

Now you’re here, and he isn’t.

Now you’re here, and so is James Barnes.

His warm hand is still holding your face and his thumb gently rubs your soft cheek, almost mindlessly, while he peers at you - intent as ever. That softness you saw before is back and you have to remind yourself to breathe when you notice his gaze flit to your lips. It’s brief, fleeting as his hand drops and he meets your eyes once more. He takes back his step and you watch him take a deep breath himself, the first time you’ve ever seen him be anything close to unsteady, if that’s what you can call it.

You break eye contact first, looking down to the small space between you while you push your door open a bit more, holding onto the handle with one hand.

“Have a good night,” he says, voice low and quiet as he watches you step closer yet to the door.

You look at him again then, “You too,” you bid softly, finally stepping inside.

He nods and waits for you to close the door behind yourself. As you push it shut, you catch a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and then that fluttering in your belly returns again.

You turn the lock and then press yourself up against the wood, exhaling heavily.

You feel relieved and yet ten times more terrified in the very same breath.

The most pressing feeling in this very moment though is a weird kind of guilt.

You feel more for a man you’ve only known for two months than you ever did for Freddy in the entire time you’d known him. Bucky is intimidating, obviously, and you know what he does, what he’s known for; he’s a man anyone would tell you to avoid at all costs. But when he’s around, there’s this feeling you get that you just can’t shake. You feel safe around him.

He’s known for being a man of his word, and his words to you have never been anything but thoughtful and…caring. He may prod, but he’s never threatened you. Truth be told, you think maybe he’s known this entire time what really happened. Or at least that you were involved somehow. And still, he wasn’t harsh with you even once. He was doing his own investigation this entire time, of course, and if he’d wanted to get the truth from you, surely he could have- he could’ve saved a lot of time too. Could’ve even gone after your dad.

But he didn’t do any of those things. No, he’s been patient, waiting until he had enough proof without having to pry anything out of you. At the very least you were grateful for that.

Not to mention the fact that he had called you pretty. It seems silly given the circumstances, but it did warm you when the compliment hit. It’s crazy but it’s clear that you’re feeling feelings for one James Bucky Barnes. God help you.

Alongside the unexpected romantic stirrings you’re coming to terms with, the anxiety and stress of the truth you’ve been trying, and apparently failing, to keep about what happened to Freddy has been weighing heavily on you, but with Bucky’s veiled acknowledgment of it, you feel more free already.

It’d be a lie to say you aren’t nervous for tomorrow night, but it’d also be a lie to say a part of you isn’t looking forward to it, too. If for no reason other than what Bucky said; to finally just be done with this whole mess.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #mob boss!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #mob bucky barnes

541 notes · View notes

wqlfstqr · 2 months ago

Text

◟𖥻 blanket fort : harry potter

▰▰ pairing: harry potter x fem!reader

harry's stressed while staying at grimmauld place, y/n tries to distract him by planning a cozy sleepover night.

author: this is me begging for more harry appreciation like actually please

He's stressed. She knows. He has been in a bad mood the whole week, snapping at people, storming out of dinner and staying in his room most of the time to avoid everyone.

The thing is, she can't really blame him. Grimmauld place seems to have that effect on people, the place is dusty and dark, full of tension because of the war. This has taken a toll on everyone, but mostly on Harry.

She's seen Harry going against powerful wizards and defy death multiple times, but watching him crumble under the weight of the upcoming war breaks her heart. She knows that if anyone deserves a break, it's Harry. And she's determined to give it to him.

It's certainly difficult, it's not like she can wave her wand and make his problems disappear. She would if she could, but it's simply not possible. But maybe she can provide a distraction, something simple to get him to forget about his problems at least one night.

She's eating her dinner in between an order meeting, Sirius and Molly screaming at eachother for whatever reason, when the idea comes in. Her face lights up, and she practically wolfs down her food just so she can excuse herself from the table.

Harry didn’t have the easiest or happiest childhood, she knows that. And, as his best friend, she always makes sure to provide fun moments were she can make amends for everything he lacked for in his childhood. She's sure a blanket fort is a perfect way to keep doing that.

It takes her a long time because she hasn't build a blanket fort in forever, but after maybe an hour, she finally has a perfect fort that she knows for sure won't fall down because she begged George to use his magic to help her since she can't use her wand outside of Hogwarts.

She raids the house for pillows to have inside her fort, and she even ends up finding fairy lights, which is a total shocker to find on that gloomy house but at least it helps her to bring a comforting vibe to the fort. Then, after arguing with Kreacher for at least ten minutes, she was able to find some snacks and make some hot cocoa.

It's late in the night and everybody else has gone to sleep when she finally knocks on Harry's door, not even waiting for him to answer before she cracks the door open, slightly peeking inside. "Harry? come with me for a second, please"

She knows he's not asleep yet, so it isn't surprising when he replies. "y/n i'm not really in the mood for.."

He's not able to finish his sentence before she interrupts him. "Come on, humor me for just five minutes, I promise you'll like it. If you hate it, I'll let you sulk in peace, deal?"

Harry huffs, but he's immediately standing up from his bed. In the past few days, she's the only one he hasn't snapped at. Harry can't help it, she is far too sweet even when she's being pushy.

Before he knows it, she's already taking his hand and pulling him with her through the dark, guiding him up the creaky stairs. When they reach the room she has been staying in, Harry almost expects a half lecture about talking about his feelings just like the one Hermione gave him.

Instead, when the door cracks open and she pulls him inside, he stops short once he sees what she's made of her room. His eyes immediately fall on the fort, blankets dropped over chairs and tugged into corners, glowing fairy lights hanging from the edges, pillows piled in the middle making it look like some cozy nest.

"What is this?" Harry asks quietly, taking a tentative step towards it while y/n closes the door.

"a blanket fort, obviously." She replies with a grin. "we're having a no-war-allowed sleepover, the only rule is that we are not able to mention war at least just for tonight."

Harry looks at her, his face a mix between confusion and surprise. He wants to tell her that this is ridiculous and go back to being alone in his room, but then he sees her smile and his heart skips a beat. She worked so hard for this, only for him, so he doesn’t find it in himself to be the one ruining it.

"This is just ridiculous" he mutters, but he still steps inside and sinks into the pillows.

"You're smiling." she points out, feeling her chest swell with pride once she's able to see the first smile from him in weeks.

"I'm not." He says even though his smile only gets bigger when she settles down beside him.

He doesn’t even know how, but she pulls two mugs from behind the blankets and offers him one. The mug is still warm when he takes it, and he gives her a little appreciative smile when he sips and the taste of hot cocoa fills his mouth.

They fall silent for just a moment until Harry talks again. "Can you tell me what the order discussed today at dinner? Did they-"

"Ah-ah" y/n interrupts, holding up a finger with mock sternness. "What did I say? No war talk tonight, it's a rule."

Harry huffs, but he doesn’t try to push it, because he knows how determined she can be when she wants to. "So what are we supposed to talk about, then? quidditch? school?"

She wrinkles her nose playfully. "No. How about this? We're making stories about the people in the order. You know, the lives they would have if they were... normal people."

Harry stares at her, amusement flashing across his face. "Are you serious?" He asks, even though he's one hundred percent sure she is.

"No! Sirius is asleep." She jokes, this is obviously a joke she picked up from Sirius himself. "Come on, It'll be fun! i'll go first." her face lights up as she hugs a pillow against her chest. "I think professor Lupin would totally own a bookstore. A cozy bookstore pilled with all kinds of books, and he would have a cat or two."

He rolls his eyes, laughing when she falls silent and gives him a pointed look. "Okay, I'll try. Let's see... Molly would own a bakery." He begins. "She would spend hours trying crazy recipes and she would most likely end up burning some things around, but people end up loving everything she bakes. She doesn't let anyone go without a free treat."

y/n seems delighted as she claps her hands together. "Yes! that's totally spot on, see? I knew you could do it!" It's her turn now, so she pauses for a second before smiling again. "If Sirius wasn't stuck here, he would be some kind of rockstar. He would travel around, throwing crazy shows and even crazier parties. And you know he would totally own a motorcycle, too."

"He would." Harry laughs for a moment until he falls silent. She thinks it's only him trying to come up with some other story, but then she's able to see the moment his face falls, smile disappearing. "You know, if things were normal, my parents..."

He doesn’t have the strenght to keep going, but he doesn’t have to. She knows. If Voldemort didn’t exist- if the order were just normal people, Harry's parents would still be alive. He wouldn't be the chosen one. He wouldn't have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She wants to tell him something, anything to try and make everything hurt a little less, but she knows no amount of words could ever do that. Instead, she scoots closer and wraps her arms around him in a hug. At first, Harry being Harry, he stiffens but after a long second, he melts into her.

"I'm sorry." She whispers once his forehead falls on her shoulder. He knows she's not apologizing for anything she's done, but rather for everything he's endured.

For a while, they sit there, silently embracing eachother. She rubs soothing circles on his back, her heart breaking at the thought of not being able to do anything to ease the pain.

She should talk. Tell him something, but she knows Harry, he won't want to open up about his emotions. At least not yet. The last thing he needs now is more sorrow, he just needs a way out of it, if only for a couple of hours.

"You know" she starts, her voice light. She knows she has to do this for him. "Maybe in another life, Snape runs a hair oil empire. He's definitely the type to use that rubbish on himself. That's why his hair's so slimy."

Harry seems caught off guard at first as he pulls back to look at her, but then a laugh escapes his lips. "His slogan would be something like 'Smooth as silk, greasy as a cauldron bottom.' and he has the ad campaigns nailed down."

y/n laughs so hard that she has to cover her mouth, fearing that Kreacher would hear and appear just to scold them. "If Snape hears you say that, he'll make sure to leave you bald."

"Better bald than greasy." He jokes, and she's just glad to see him happy again.

And just like that, the fort is filled with laughter again, the heaviness retreating a little while longer as they share stories and joke about members of the order, allowing themselves to forget about the upcoming war for just a while.

Harry had forgotten how easy it is to talk to y/n, she's always able to see right through him and ease his pain. No matter what he's going through, she's always able to get a laugh out of him. Around her, Harry can just be himself- not the chosen one, just Harry.

She's laughing about some kind of childhood story she's sharing with him, and he just can't help but stare at her for a little too long.

"What?" She ask in between giggles when she caughts him staring.

He shakes his head, a soft smile grazing his lips. "Nothing. Just... Thank you."

She tilts her head a little. "Why?"

"For this. I didn’t realize how much I needed this." he admits, feeling lighter than he has felt in weeks. "you just- you have a way of making everything feel better."

"You deserve it, Harry. You deserve more than this." She smiles, taking his hand to give it a soft squeeze.

"You're amazing, you know that?" The way she looks at him when the words leave his lips, the shine in her eyes, it makes his heart race.

And he knows it then. He loves her. Always has, like it was something so natural for him to do that he didn’t even realize it until he has to sit there and watch the blush creeping on her face. He loves her.

"I mean, I'm pretty proud of this fort—" She starts, but her words are cut off when his lips meet hers.

It's unexpected, the feelings of his lips takes her breath away for a long second until she's suddenly leaning into the kiss. Time seems to stand still for Harry once he allows himself to get lost in that exact moment, in the way her lips feel so soft, sweet against his. So comforting.

It's in that moment that he realizes, this isn't just a distraction. It isn't just a fleeting moment to forget about war. It's more than that. She is more than that.

She's his anchor. When the world feels like it's falling apart, when the weight of it all feels unbearable, she's always there— steady, unwavering, like some kind of safety net. Always waiting for Harry to fall into the comfort of her arms.

When he pulls apart, y/n is ready for him to start panicking, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he lets himself lean into the comfort she offers. He presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and relaxing to the sounds of her slow breathing.

"Stay." He says suddenly, and she's not sure if he's asking for her to stay tonight or just forever.

But anyways, she replies. "I wasn't planning on leaving."

And for the first time in his life, Harry believes it's okay to share the weight with someone.

#harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry james potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter books #one shot #fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter headcanon #𐙚 mari's fics

343 notes · View notes

moontopuff · 6 months ago

Text

how it started/how u met

okay so being honest, twins didn't notice you until your third year

that's when u, as a Hufflepuff, had transfiguration with gryffindor

and let's just say that they *had* to notice u

because u tried to do the task so.many.times. but it just didn't work and at some point u just yelled "bloody fuckin hell!"

and yes professor did take 10 points from your house for saying those words

but! thanks to that weasley twins noticed you! Right after the lesson, they approached you on the hall

"so. aren't you a naughty little hufflepuff?" "what's your name, Puffy?"

and so, this is how your friendship started.

and yes, at first twins were just curious about you, maybe just their gryffindor blood wanted something new

but nevertheless, it quickly changed into something more real, as they started hanging out with you

you laugh at their jokes, watch their quidditch games and sometimes lightly pack them on their heads when they are being too much of a nuisance. They realized they liked u as a person.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH TWINS LOOKED LIKE;

so, just because you're their friend, doesn't mean they wont try and will prank you

that's why it often ends up in a game of tag; its either them running after you (sometimes you even win and end up safely in Hufflepuff common room!) or you after them (and trying to hex them after they pulled out their prank on you)

but yeah, so many times they tried to go after you to hufflepuff common room and they ended up smelling like vingear!

(you did ended up helping them with the smell anyway. just later, of course)

so u may, or may not, have slipped that u were always wondering how it feels to be kabedon'ed to twins

did they know what that is? no. did u told them? no. did they found out anyways? YES.

and so, this is how it started; your whole week of Weasley twins kabeddoning you in random places at random times.

your reactions were quite enjoyable, so was your flustered expression, which only made them do it again, and again,,,

(you did like it tho. even if u decided not to share that thought with twins...)

when you have classes together you can expect paper bird charm flying your way! Twins would write something or draw something silly. Sometimes just because they are bored, sometimes so they can make you laugh and make teacher reprimand you. Anyway, it's not boring when u share classes

their mom & dad loving you! Of course not as much as they like Harry and Hermione, but you are just behind them! And Molly can't help but appreciate you and your ability to tone down twins (at least sometimes...)

you make them study together with you, of course its not easy and at least half of the time they (okay and you too...) spend talking and giggling, but because of your reward system (after you learn this you can get that), they are a little bit more willing to learn (not much tho)

twins knew that you know a lot of hiding places in Hogwart, so they often include you in their pranks... if only for you to help them turn into right direction

but sometimes things just didn't work out, and you three ended up in detention

that's when twins could see your grumpy, annoyed side

them knowing you're not *seriously* mad at them, meaning they would try to make you laugh, betting who would make you laugh first, and so on

them wanting to prank you but you know better

"Puffie, come on, join us tonight!" the Weasley twins chorused, their grins practically gleaming with mischief. You crossed your arms, eyeing them suspiciously. “No,” you replied flatly, frowning. You knew that look too well. "Pleaaaase," Fred stretched the word out, pouting dramatically. "Don't be a bummer!" George leaned in closer, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Do you want us to beg?" he teased, and then Fred chimed in, smirking. "Are you into men on their knees?" You felt your cheeks heat up as they burst into laughter at your reaction. “Are you willing to be these men?” you shot back, still blushing but fire dancing in your eyes, not wanting to lose to them so openly. But they weren’t done yet. “What if... there’s food?” George asked, his tone suddenly innocent. Your interest piqued. “What food?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. Fred nodded seriously. "Good stuff. Sweet stuff. Whatever you like." “Fine,” you sighed, but you weren’t so easily persuaded. “You have to promise that next time I have a bad morning and I’m grumpy, you’ll hug me. A sandwich hug, at that!” You finished with a grin, proud of yourself. If you were going to be pranked, you might as well get something out of it too. Fred smirked. "Blimey, didn’t know you were so forward, Puff—” You smacked his arm before he could finish, a playful scowl on your face. George chuckled, taking your hand with a grin. "Deal." Of course, it was a prank. But there was food, and was it worth it in the end? Your future self would wholeheartedly agree.

them asking you to bring food for nightly study or just hanging out at night

“Why me? You already know where the kitchen is,” you asked, genuinely curious but not annoyed. “Yeah, but it’s late already, and we’re us, and you’re you,” Fred explained, as if that made perfect sense. “Meaning...?” you prompted, raising an eyebrow. George chuckled, leaning in as if sharing a grand secret. “You’re an innocent Hufflepuff, and we’re mischievous Gryffindors. If a prefect or professor catches us, they’re more likely to let you go, and us... well, you know how it usually ends.” He shrugged, grinning widely. You paused, contemplating. It made a strange kind of sense. It was a bit unfair, sure, but if you could turn it to your advantage, wasn’t that fair in its own way? “Mhmm, we’ll see. What do you want?” you asked, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

so yes, they would also sometimes 'use your hufflepuff self" for making things easier for them. and hey! at first it worked perfectly! But after a while, prefect and professors caught on that you're not as innocent as you seem, and you are friends with Weasley twins in more ways than they thought

one time they pranked you by making your hair [color], thinking you would get angry, but you just shrugged and decided that it looks nice on you, and you're keeping it for time being

so yeah, they wouldn't think so at first, but somehow, you match them perfectly!

ROUTE A (GEORGE WEASLEY)

ROUTE B (FRED WEASLEY)

#weasley twins x reader #weasley twins x hufflepuff reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff reader #george weasley x hufflepuff reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #hufflepuff #hufflepuff reader #hufflepuff pride #gryffinpuff

440 notes · View notes

soldateins · 21 days ago

Note

Hello :3 idk if you do requests or whatnot so Ima ask.

Would you do a childish reader

(NOT A CHILD. and not like age reg crap or wtv)

just an energetic, childish adult x Arthur Morgan? Smut if you want :))!

Arthur Morgan x BubblyFemale!Reader (Fluff, a little bit of pining?)

Author’s Note: Hiiii anon, thank you for the request! ₊˚⊹♡ I’ve bundled that description up into BubblyFemale!Reader, I hope I hit the mark - It’s ended up as small chapter-y bits! I couldn’t for the life of me work any smut in there, sometimes it just doesn’t jive. But maybe I’ll do a part 2 because BubblyFemale!Reader is soso sweet I love her and some smutty ideas did come to mind. Word Count: 2,599 Tags: Fluff, banter, it's just a cute little time with you being a sweet little dumbass who Arthur can't help but fall for.

Arthur isn’t as fiery as he was in his 20s, it only really rises to the surface when he’s particularly tense or drunk. He’s much more keen to partake in the calm ebb and flow of the time in between scouting jobs and swindling marks. You on the other hand… You’re always buzzing with fervour, and if he’s honest with himself, you can be a tad overwhelming to be around. He’d initially thought that your bounding energy was due to the adrenaline of being on the run for weeks but it doesn’t seem to have worn off.

“-Not one bit,” He’d said to Hosea as they sat by the campfire one evening, his fingers tapping against the whiskey bottle in his hand as he pictured you, “Always yappin’, fallin’ over herself like a newborn calf.”

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you almost sound sweet on her, lad.” Hosea responded softly, a small smile on his face as he watched embers flick up and be carried off in the gentle breeze. Arthur let out a quiet, uneasy sound, shifting on the log beneath him before taking a swig of whiskey.

“Sweet? Naw, I ain’t sweet. She’s just a curious one is all.”

When he returns from jobs or hunts, you almost wind him with hugs. She does it with everyone, he reminds himself each time as he watches you scramble across camp towards him. You slam into his chest with a loud “Hi, Arthur!”. He stumbles back, looking down at the crown of your head, his arms out at his sides before he blinks and brings a hand to your head, patting slowly,

“And hello to you, too, Miss.”

“S’been days!”

“Sure has. Y’been holdin’ up alright?”

“Yeah, I‘ve been alright. Better now you’re back.”

You tip your head up, balancing your chin on his chest, looking up at him, doe-eyed and he swallows thickly, his hand still in your hair. He’s rarely the one to pull away first, too swept up in the gentle pressure of your chin on his chest, your enthusiastic embrace, the scent of your soap. And not to mention that goofy grin plastered across your face.

When Pearson finishes dinner, you’re usually the first one to jog through camp, earning a snap of your name from Miss Grimshaw to which you let out an aggrieved huff and slow down, rolling your eyes as you snatch your plate from the table and slop some stew onto it. Watching you eat is ever amusing; the way you shovel food into your mouth, humming appreciatively at the salty, hot meal. You also have an endearing (or unsavoury, as Molly dubs it) habit of talking with your mouth full and it’s not hard for your fellow camp-mates to notice how Arthur intently watches your features with the fondest of looks.

“You best calm down, girl. I ain’t gonna be the one squeezin’ chunks of rabbit outta you.” Arthur chuckles with a shake of his head only to be met with a full-mouthed scowl and the dull thump of your boot heel nudging into his calf.

After weeks of living side by side, Arthur has started to acclimatise to your sprightly behaviour. He’s found himself readily anticipating your hugs by taking in a breath, your nudges by tensing prematurely, and your ridiculous ‘Yackity-yack’ (as Uncle once referred to it as) with a roll of his eyes and a “Don’chu start now, girl.”. And despite his begrudging demeanour towards each of these behaviours, he’s found himself enjoying them more and more, and even subtly provoking them.

You’ve unknowingly graced the pages of his journal a few times, too, in the form of quick, sheepish sketches and words. He feels as though each part of his being is performing an almighty tug-o-war; you’re desired by his hands, his eyes, his pounding heart. Yet, his mind won’t allow him to want you, a constant tension laces his speech and superficial actions. There is always restraint, for your sake.

I doubt it would work out between us. A spirited gal such as her is bound to meet her match. It sure as hell ain’t me. I’d likely sap the light from her, drag her down into the dirt where I reside.

I can’t deny the light she fills me with, though. Sometimes I think that cloudy days exist because the sun decides it wants to spend the day within her.

“Where’ya off to, Arthur?” You call out, skipping across camp to the hitching posts where he is slinging his satchel over the rear of his horse.

“T’catch us all some food. Y’alright?” He asks, turning to face you fully. He tries to ignore the way his head tilts as he looks down at you attentively; one of the many subtle actions that snag in his psyche telling him ‘You’re gettin’ sweet on her, Morgan.’

“Yeah, m’alright…” You trail off, gently swaying from side to side, pursing your lips, “Huntin’, huh?”

Arthur’s brow furrows suspiciously before amusement swiftly follows, his voice lilting with a certain fondness reserved for you,

“Wha’chu want?”

“T’come with ya.”

His eyebrows raise. You? On a hunt? Holding a bow, holding your breath, having to sneak? Arthur takes a big breath and sighs deeply. That doesn’t sound like a stressful situation at all. You’re not at all the least patient person he’s ever spent time with. He’s not been avoiding each opportunity for time alone with you at all. He looks at you for a long moment, rolling his tongue about his mouth, narrowing his eyes. You’re standing eagerly, staring straight up at him, practically vibrating.

“Y’ain’t gonna take no for an answer this time, are ya?”

His grumbled question is answered by the mischievous smirk that curves your lips. Arthur’s shoulders drop and with another sigh, this time one of concession. He nods back towards his horse,

“C’mon, then.”

Your smirk breaks into a triumphant grin and you bolt to your tent to grab your things.

“And wear some proper boots-” He calls out after you, “-Not those scruffy things with the soles peelin’ off. The ones I gotch’ya last week that you still ain’t worn.” He folds his arms, forcing himself to focus on the clouds instead of allowing his thoughts to stray too far into what this hunting trip was going to be like and the slight nervousness coagulating in the fluid between his bones.

Much as Arthur expected, you natter away for the entire ride to the hunting spot and he genuinely wonders how you fail to tire. You ramble about everything under the sun from how much you hate embroidering to the ‘stupid big bug’ you saw in your tent the night before to how Uncle has started to teach you to play the banjo.

“Woah!”

“What?”

“Look at those horses!” You point enthusiastically.

Arthur chuckles, his focus following your finger to the pack of wild horses racing through a nearby field.

“I see ‘em.” The words leave him warmly as you watch the horses and he watches you.

The briefest of pauses passes before you puff out a breath through your nose, and Arthur’s lips form a knowing smile. He can almost hear your brain whirring with questions and things you’re noticing. He stays quiet, still smiling, and waits for you to speak, enjoying the moment of respite with you.

“So, where’re we goin’?” You ask as you look at Arthur, tilting your head playfully.

“Place called O’Creagh’s Run. S’not too far.”

You purse your lips, your focus drifting to a squirrel scuttling across the path and into the trees. “What kinda critters’ll we find there? S’it pretty?”

“Oh, lots o’ types’a critters. Deer, bears, ducks, rabbits. You name it, s’probably there… And yup, s’pretty-” He turns his attention to you, silently taking in the fit of your jeans and the way your body gently sways in rhythm with the rambling pace of your horse, “-S’real pretty.” Arthur allows himself a second more before looking back to the path.

When you reach O’Creagh’s Run, Arthur takes it upon himself to choose a spot and set up camp, letting you run about and take in the beauty of the new area. He can’t help but think of a dog that bounded up to him in Valentine the day before.

“Oh, Arthur. Pretty don’t do this place justice!” You shout to him from somewhere within the thicket as he pulls a bow over his shoulder before strapping a quiver to his thigh.

“Try not to run about too much, girl. Don’t want you spookin’ the game.”

After a moment, you jog back out to the campsite, huffing, a frown dragging your features south. Arthur makes his way to you with another bow and quiver, readying them for you, but he stops once his eyes meet your face.

“What’s gotten up your craw?”

“You’d think such a charmin’ place’d be chock fulla all sorts of flowers. I can’t find any anywhere.” You complain, still looking around you for any sign of flora. This earns a hearty chuckle from Arthur and he shakes his head while stepping closer to you.

“Naw, they’re a little more East of here.” He says softly before handing you the bow and lowering to one knee to strap the quiver around your thigh, “We ain’t here for flowers anyway.” He concentrates on tightening the buckles of the quiver until it’s flush with your thigh, his fingers grazing over your jeans. You go unusually quiet. When he looks up at you, you’re watching his hands with the faintest blush on your cheeks. Arthur puts it down to your running about like a madwoman, though the heat spreading through his chest tells him otherwise.

“Now, stay low and keep your voice down. And no gigglin’.” Arthur instructs gently, looking at you briefly over his shoulder before stalking through the thicket after a small herd of deer. You nod and give a comical salute as you follow,

“Yessir.”

Arthur’s expression is one of exasperation as he grumbles out, “Good girl.” before turning back around. You creep along behind him, your own bow readied, peeking over his shoulder. The crunch of your boots in the grass, the occasional soft sniff or hum, the feeling of your body at his back; it’s all heating him up quicker than the sunlight streaming through the copse. As you near the herd, Arthur lowers his voice further,

“Alright. I want you to watch what I do. No shootin’ from you until I think you’re ready.”

When he doesn’t receive a response, a huff escapes him. He knew it would only be so long before you caused trouble. With a curious frown, he halts and looks over his shoulder, only to see you skulking off into the thicket towards an opening.

“Hey-” Arthur hisses, “-Girl. Get back here.”

You’re already creeping out of the brush, batting at the twigs getting caught in your hair as you go.

“Girl.” He growls under his breath. He gives one more glance to the small herd of deer before sighing impatiently and striding through the brush after you.

When he reaches the clearing, he’s met with the image of you, bow dropped into the grass, squinting into the viewfinder of your camera. He softens despite his frustration, allowing himself to appreciate the way the late afternoon sun highlights your lustred skin, the way you’re just about balancing to get the shot, until his dreamy gaze lands on your choice of muse.

A bear.

One that is facing away from you, but a damn bear nonetheless. The swirling warmth in his chest exits through the shuddering breath that escapes him.

He quietly places his bow on the floor and inches towards you, keeping his steps as soft as possible. He makes quick work of clasping a hand over your mouth, his other arm wrapping roughly around your waist, yanking you back against him and shuffling back into the brush.

“You stupid?” He spits, his breath puffing against your skin, his mouth grazing your ear, “Tryna get yourself killed?”

“Mm– Arthur-” You whine in protest, your speech marred by his rough palm pressed against your mouth. He feels your teeth and tongue forming the syllables, wetting his skin and for a split second it throws him off. His next swallow is to tame the buzz in his head, before he tightens his hold on you, dragging you further back into the copse, to safety. You grab at his forearms as you stumble,

“Mm– Arthur– Get off–”

“Shu’ch your mouth–” He grunts into your ear, “Dumb sheep ain’t got the right to bleat.”

When he finally releases you, you meet him with a lower, clutching your camera tightly.

“I ain’t no dumb sheep–”

“Oh, you ain’t?” He laughs wryly, “Okay, sure, ‘cause standin’ out in the open a few feet from a bear is smart, is it?” He gestures towards the opening and narrows his eyes at you as he takes you in. Your face is flushed a deep pink, you’re still catching your breath from the surprise. You huff out a breath through your scrunched nose, and it takes Arthur a steady long breath in to not let out an abrupt laugh, thinking you look like an angry calf. Sweeter on her by the second, Morgan.

“Okay, well–” You raise a finger at him, as if to start on a tangent, yet what comes is not of much worth nor thought, “-You ain’t– I just wanted– It wasn’t lookin’ at me!”

“Even if it weren’t lookin’ ach’u, it was one change in the wind away from smellin’ you. Now, c’mon–” He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you the short way back to the camp.

Arthur makes you cook dinner as a punishment for giving him “a damn heart attack” and you oblige, directing the occasional ornery glance at him as you stir the small stewpot.

“Don’t gimme that look, girl.” Arthur exhorts as he takes in a mouthful of rum.

“Lucky I don’t spit in this here pot.” You grumble and he blinks, his brow raising at your attitude. He swallows, giving you a look.

“Lucky I don’t leave you stranded in these woods for that bear to find.” He gestures toward the thicket with the neck of the bottle.

Your stirring pauses and you scowl up at him, the glow of the campfire glimmering in your eyes. Your words puff from your lips in a more petulant way than you’d planned.

“You wouldn’t.”

A grin pulls at Arthur’s mouth, revealing his teeth, an expression you’ve grown to know only graces his features when he’s truly having fun. It causes your own snarky expression to falter, your defiance morphing into a lovesome warmth and plunging into the pit of your stomach.

“You know better than to provoke me, Miss.” Arthur shakes his head and glugs another mouthful of rum before continuing,

“Besides, spit or not, I’d still eat it.”

The groaning sound of repulsion that his words elicit from you serves to draw a surprisingly rich and bubbling laugh from Arthur. You find yourself wanting to do anything and everything to hear it again, to quickly snatch it up from the air and lock it beneath your ribcage, to nestle your heart within it; but all that comes out is waggish judgement.

“You’re wrong in the head.” You begin stirring the stew again, catching it just before it begins to burn. Arthur leans back a bit, a puckish glint in his eye,

“Maybe so, but I’m also hungry.”

#requests #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #my writing #fluff #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #rdr2 fanfic #soldateins

223 notes · View notes

samkerrworshipper · 11 months ago

Text

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader (wobbs as coparents)

reconciliation … the final part in this series x

2 months later:

“My name is y/n Williamson-Nobbs, and I am an addict.”

There are things you appreciate nowadays, more then you did before. Fresh air, the flowers blooming in spring, a strong coffee, smiles from strangers, a warm bed, hugs, being told you are enough, a classic movie, the sun, fruit, water, being clean.

“I didn’t ever take drugs to hurt anybody, or hurt anybody knowingly. I didn’t take drugs to have fun, or party, I didn’t get addicted because I liked it.”

You like taking your dog on walks, going and getting your hair done, floating in the ocean, lying in grass, being sober.

“I took drugs because it made me feel whole. I’ve never felt whole in my entire life, everyday in my life I’ve used something to patch that hole up, during my childhood I tried to fix every single problem, I fixed myself by fixing everybody else in my life, my mom, my non existent dad. As I got older it changed, I seeked validation to patch the hole, it was healthy, but I think I’ve always been an addict and I always will be. I’ve been addicted to filling that hole, it was disguised as being healthy for most of my life until I switched the validation for drugs.”

You don’t avoid peoples eye contact as you walk along the street anymore, you don’t avoid your moms, you don’t lie to people anymore, you don’t put yourself in danger.

“It started with nicotine, because my mom enabled it. I think she was more scared for me then anything. I was spiralling, who wouldn’t be in this day and age? I mean any parent of a teen must be terrified in this day and age, I know I would be. The nicotine was good, but then I got introduced to weed, and it felt like every problem I’ve ever had was fixed.”

You talk about your feelings now, you identify every single thing that you feel and you talk about it with as much detail as your moms and therapist want to hear. You don’t study the different chemicals entering your body every time you shoot up anymore, you study the intricacy and meaning of what you are going through. You take medicine for your depression and anxiety, not drugs for your hopelessness.

“They say weed is the pipeline drug, it’s true. After weed, I felt on top of the world and there was no stopping me. Molly, LSD, coke, heroin, benzos, fentanyl, ketamine, oxy, speed, and eventually meth, which I now know to be the worst of all of them. I didn’t know it at the time, there wasn’t anybody in my life, or in the life I’d created forn myself that was willing to tell me how dangerous what I was doing was.”

Jordan moved back in, whilst you were in rehab. It had been two weeks, that’s what you agreed to. It was the worst two weeks of your life without any doubt. But when you were picked up, both your moms were there, both of them were there for you. They both took time off, time off to take you away, across to France for a week.

“Meth will always be the thing that destroyed my life. My parents don’t trust me anymore, I get why. I lashed out, I became devoid of everything, I was convinced that everybody hated me, and that I was the cause of everybody’s pain, including my own. I convinced myself that the people who loved me the very most didn’t, and that I was the bomb that had torn all of my relationships in my life apart. I was a kid though, I still am, and I’m trying to be better.”

The trust was a hard thing. Your therapist saw Leah and Jordan twice a week, and that was when they would discuss the things that they could start reintroducing you to. School was a no, for now. You were yet to be permitted to stay at the house, alone, for longer then an hour, so every training session, gym session, appointment, media duty, catch up with friends, you were dragged to. It had been tough in the beginning, but you understood, trust had to be earnt. Every week there was something to look forward to, Jordan had been teaching you to drive after you’d gotten out of rehab, and as of a week ago you were permitted to drive yourself to and from your NA meetings.

“Meth made me feel like I was on top of the world, even though i was at my rock bottom. I had bad friends, I fell into a bad group of people, people who took advantage of the fact that I was so vulnerable and hurt. I’ll never forgive them for that, I’ll never be able to forgive them for taking advantage of a girl nearly ten years younger then them. They were hurting too, but that doesn’t excuse manipulating another person. They hurt me, they enabled me, they assaulted me, they took things from me that I’ll never get back.”

The first thing your mothers had wanted when after you’d come clean to them about everything was for you to get a rape kit. You’d outright refused, you were protecting the people, you didn’t want to relive what had happened to you but also a part of you didn’t want Matt and Maya to go down, even if you could now recognise that they’d done unforgivable things to you. Eventually, you agreed to it. You were glad you did, Matt had passed on chlamydia to you, which you thought was some kind of sick joke, that even after he’d deserted you there was still parts of him that were hurting you from the insides. Karma came in the form of a sexual assault report, one which had the policemen heading to his home to arresst him, only to finds thousands of dollars worth of illicit substances.

“I’m not proud of what I did to get a fix, I don’t think any recovering addict is. A couple of months ago I would have ruined every single relationship I had with all of the people I loved just to get a hit of what I was craving, and nowadays I would probably do the same, but I don’t need to. Meth was the love of my life, I think it always will be, or maybe the craving for something to fill me up is what I crave, I don’t really know, I’m still working everyday to try and figure that out.”

Sometimes, as you drove home at night, around every corner towards the house, you considered taking a stop at a side street, one that you knew a dealer would be sitting on. Somedays, you considered driving the car off of the highway and into a tree. Somedays, you considered taking a blade to your throat so you didn’t have to do rehab. Somedays though, you felt so incredibly blessed to be alive. Sometimes, you would sit outside, in the sun and just feel, allow yourself to feel everything that you’d always pushed down out of fear that you’d be deserted if you let any true emotion show.

“We’re all human, we all have the same dignity, no matter who we are. I made some stupid choices, choices that I won’t ever be able to reckon with, choices that for the rest of my life will haunt me. Don’t we all though? Don’t we all lie awake at night worrying about the things that we’ve done, that are out of our control now?”

You’d come to not fear desertion, the people who you’d hated most in the world but also loved most in the world had deserted you. Your parents had deserted you, you closest friends, people you would have considered your found family, deserted you. It was something you had no control over, something that you would never have control over and focusing all of your energy on trying to fix that had become something that you’d give up on.

“I’m not perfect, I never have been, I never will be. I can guarantee though that nobody in this room feels like they are perfect. We’re all hurt people, everybody has something that they keep hidden from people because they are scared that somehow it is going to make people see them differently. I’m guilty of it, my whole life i’ve been hiding, I still am. I’m not ashamed to admit that coming here every night terrifies me, that somebody I’ve known at some stage of my life will walk through the same doors I do and I’ll be put face to face with that, but it’s life. We all make our own mistakes, we all pave our own ways.”

Leah and Jordan still fought, you were secretly glad. It was clear that everything between them was done, which you hated to be happy about, You weren’t ready for that to be back to normal, you weren’t ready to feel like you were able to go back to the way life was when they were together. Lia mediated them, she balanced everything out and the two of you had managed to build a relationship. She was like the older sister you’d never had and you were happier to have her around knowing that she was happy to support you in the same way your moms would, even if she wasn’t living in the same house as you all anymore.

“I will never be able to properly apologise for how I acted, I’ll never be able to repay the people that found me at my lowest and still showed uo for me. I owe my life to those people, and I will spend every single day of my life being so thankful for the opportunity they have given me to have a second chance.”

Life was better, everything was better, you were recovering, you were learning. You felt more connected and loved by the people around you in your whole life. You didn’t feel like you had to seek out love anymore, you didn’t feel like you had to do something to earn it. Leah spent every minute of everyday doing small things to make you feel loved, dragging you out of the house to get coffee with her, reading with you every night before bed, sitting through you when the cravings were making your day harder, driving you to the beach when you felt like you needed fresh air, dragging you to physio appointments so you could hang out with your aunties, buying you fresh flowers to put in your room to make the dark memories of it a little bit nicer, helping you redecorate the space, letting you sleep in her bed when the tendencies started to burn all over your skin.

“I have a disease, I have a terminal illness that will forever impair my ability to live life normally. I will forever be attached to my past, and that’s really tough, I won’t ever be cured of my past, I won’t ever be able to say that I am free of my addiction, I will forever be tied to my decisions.”

Your therapist was helping you weed out all the bad, helping you to identify the different patterns of self destructive behaviour that you chose, helping you to make better decisions for yourself, decisions that didn’t end in you destroying everything you’d worked for.

“I’m an addict, we all are, we all know what it feels like to be plagued with our past. We all get up here every week and speak about our demons, because we all get it. We get what it feels like to lose everything, we all understand the terror that crosses over a persons face when you overdose, or tell them that you’re using, or when they wake up across from your hospital bed. We’re all going through our own shit, we’re all struggling everyday. I struggle everyday, because I’m an addict, for the rest of my life I will struggle because I’m an addict, but there isn’t anybody who understands me better than all of you. I’ve been sober for two months, there have been relapses, there have been struggles, there has been pain and so much for me to be ashamed of. There has been so many positives though, there has been so much good, so much happiness, so many good moments. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, there is too much bad in this world for me to believe in that, but I do believe that this experience has made me a better person, it’s made me stronger, its made me more resilient. The past two months have been some of the best parts of my life, and i intend for the rest of my life to be the same. This chip means a lot to me, but it’s the progress that makes all of this better, knowing that I’ve left parts of me behind that will now stay behind me forever.”

You looked down at the chip in your hands, the little bronzey coin that was so small but felt like it was bigger then the world to you. You smiled at the group of people around you, nodding your head once again before walking towards you sponsor and giving them a hug. It felt good, like a big weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d never spoken much in meetings, you were more than happy to hear other peoples stories, but tonight had been special to you. You’d thought about what you were going to say, much of it being what you’d talked about with your moms earlier in the week during family therapy. It had been hard, talking to your moms so openly about how you felt, but it was something you were becoming better at as the days passed.

You stayed around for the coffee and biscuits, talking with the people that you’d grown close to over the past month and a half in the mildewy church which smelt a little bit too similar to your great grandmothers living room.

You stuck around until the first few people started to trail out, before you made the decision it was time to get home. You said your goodbyes, farewelling your friends before dismissing yourself and making the walk out to the carpark, towards Leah’s car.

Driving had become your one piece of real freedom, it was the only time where you got to think to yourself. A couple of months ago, you would have found solace in continuous loneliness, you would have sat in the car for hours and been happy. Now though, you found yourself navigating your way back home as fast as possible, whilst still abiding by road rules.

The gravel driveway underneath the wheels of a car used to make you nervous, if anything it now made you feel anticipation.

You jumped from the car with a hop in your step, the bronze chip still clutched in your palm, the metal now warm against your skin after the acclimation of the metal to your body temperature.

You used your key to enter the door, smiling at the warmth and scent that you were met with as you untied your shoes and left them by the front door.

Leah was waiting for you in the kitchen, she always was, every night you decided to go to a meeting. You knew that she still worried, that she spent nights awake worrying about you. You’d lost count of how many times on the nights you spent in your own bed how often she’d come to check to make sure you were still lying there. She probably always would worry, you wouldn’t blame her if she did, you’d put her through a lot.

She brought you into a hug, the same hug as every night, it always lasted for a little bit too long, but you never brought it up.

She would hug you tighter every single time, it was clockwork.

“Lia’s come over for dinner, she’s cooked spaghetti for everybody, but she made bangers and mash for you special, no pasta.”

You smiled at your mom, letting her press a chaste kiss to your forehead before you followed her into the dining room, where dinner was already plated up and Jordan and Lia were already seated at the table.

Jordan sent a smile your way as you sat down, things were still rocky between the two of you, it was never going to be perfect, it was never going to be as good as before, but you were both doing the work to heal bits of it and that was what mattered.

“Hey bubba, how was your meeting?”

Most nights you answered the same, with something simple.

“Good, I got this today.”

You pushed the chip onto the table, pulling your phone out of your pocket so you didn’t have to witness their raw reactions.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, no phones at the table.”

You frowned, pushing your phone back into your trackpant pocket, and looking up at your moms.

“This is awesome bubba, we’re both so proud of you.”

Jordan had picked up the coin, looking at it with glazed eyes.

There had been a lot of that since you’d come out of rehab, a lot of crying, a lot more than you were comfortable with.

“I want you to keep it.”

Jordan looked up at you, mildly confused.

“Bubba, it’s your token, your progress, your hardwork, you should keep it.”

You shook your head.

“Mom has my one month one, I want you to keep this one. I’m doing it for you two, I’m trying to be better for you two, and I want you to know that I’m committed to it and that without you guys I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

You could see tears pooling in Leah’s eyes from the other side of the table, jordan’s own ones beginning to drip down her face.

“Anyways, it’s not big deal, let’s have dinner, I’m sure whatever Lia cooked up is better than anything you and mom could have managed.”

You tried to pass it off with some lighthearted humour, but based off of the tears on your parents face, it wasn’t doing much.

Jordan and Leah both reached over, taking a hand in each of yours.

“You know that no matter what happens, no matter where you go, who you become, what you do, how you live your life, you will always be our beautiful girl.”

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson is mom #leah makes me cry #leah williamson fic #jordan and leah #leah williamson imagine #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan nobbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso appreciation #sammykworshipperfics

430 notes · View notes

honeygrahambitch · 8 months ago

Text

"Will, can you get my wallet, please? It's in the right pocket of my jacket." Hannibal asked. He was on the balcony of their beach house in Greece, which had been their shelter for the whole month.

"Yeah." Will replied from inside. He was about to join Hannibal on the balcony as soon as he would bring the whiskey bottle. It had become their habit to have a drink while watching the sunset.

Will grabbed Hannibal's jacket and searched in the said pocket. His hand froze when he reached an easily recognizable object.

He pulled it out hesitantly. A ring. Then his heart sank. Not any ring. It was Will's wedding ring. He had taken it off after they had fallen off the cliff. Why was Hannibal keeping it? Why was he keeping something that would remind him of Molly?

Will forgot about the wallet and the bottle and went directly outside, holding the ring in the palm of his hand.

"Why are you keeping this?"

Hannibal had a content expression on his face. He didn't look surprised by Will's finding.

"Just a reminder of the time where I lost you." He said casually.

"It's not that."

Hannibal looked at him thoughtfully. So sharp and perceptive, he could see right through him.

"Just a reminder of how easily you can walk away from me." Hannibal corrected himself.

And it was the truth.

He had not lost Will. Will had rejected him and manipulated him into surrendering. The ring was nothing more but a reminder of the efemerity of what they had been building together in the last weeks.

Just like that, Will threw the ring into the sea which was right below their balcony.

"No need to burden yourself with that, Hannibal." Will said. "It wasn't easy to walk away then and it would be impossible now."

Hannibal watched the whole scene with a content expression on his face. The ring would never see the light of the day again.

The gesture itself freed Hannibal from one of his greatest fears. And he was sure Will knew that.

"I still need my wallet." Hannibal said. "Earlier this morning I found a little seashell that I thought you might appreciate."

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal fanfiction

261 notes · View notes

wintfleur · 3 months ago

Text

SANTA TELL ME

⊹ oh I wanna have him beside me like oh-woo-oh ⊹

🧦 ━━━ 𝓈tella 𝒽ughes and 𝓇utger 𝓂cgroarty enjoy a christmas trip in the snowy mountains

stellahughes just posted !

📍Aspen, Colorado

liked by arberxhekaj_, nicolassturniolo, mattboldy and more

🏷️ rutgermcgroarty

🎵: santa tell me - Ariana grande

stellahughes merry christmas from your favorite couple 🤍

view all comments

tyler__duke5 🏔️🎄❤️

stellahughes WORDS TY WORDS

mackie.samo merry christmas stell ❤️

stellahughes merry christmas mack 🫶🏻

ryan.leno_4 still crying about my present btw ☝️

stellahughes IN A GOOD WAY?? 😰

ryan.leno_4 YES 😭

Lilybaileys ur so cute :( merry christmas bby 🥹

stellahughes ily merry Xmas 🩷

carmenbarlowe HAVE FUNNNN ❤️

stellahughes MINS ❤️❤️❤️

LiamBarlowe I came to visit…AND YOU WEREN’T EVEN THERE?

stellahughes LIAM I TOLD YOU LIKE 2 WEEKS AGO 😭

jackhughes rutger my number one opp 😤

jackhughes not spending Christmas with you 2 years in a row is DISGRACEFUL.

stellahughes jack answer the phone I’m calling you rn 🫵

christophersturniolo ayeeee

stellahughes UHUH ☝️

elblue6 my lovely girl, merry christmas sweetie ❤️

stellahughes merry christmas mom!! ❤️

markestapa COME HOMEEE 😭

stellahughes MARK ILL SEE YOU IN A WEEK 😭

username AHHH STELLA POSTED ON HER MAIN WE MISSED YOU QUEEN

username and the crowd goes….silent 😐

username the actual puck bunny 🙄

username why would rutger want to be with her still 😒….

trevorzegras santa told me to tell you….to answer the freaking phone ☝️

stellahughes GETTING TO IT RN!

luca.fantilli CAPTION REAL 😍

stellahughes luca ily 💋

colecaufield MERRY CHRISTMAS STELLA ❤️

stellahughes MERRY CHRISTMAS COLEY ❄️❤️

_quinnhughes merry christmas stink ❤️

stellahughes merry christmas quinny 🤍

edwards.73 happy christmas stella, I’m so proud of you and I can’t wait to see all of the amazing things you do next year 🤍

stellahughes eth 🥹

jamie.drysdale merry Christmas stella!!!

stellahughes HAPPY XMAS JAMS ❤️❤️

nicohischier happy christmas estella ❤️

stellahughes HEHEHEH HAPPY CHRISTMAS NICO 🤭❤️❤️❤️

rutgermcgroarty the prettiest girl

rutgermcgroarty merry christmas baby 🤍

stellahughes merry christmas rut 🤍

rutgermcgroarty added to their close friends !

🎵: soaked - shy smith

[caption: 🤩🤩 ]

mollyannmcg replied to your story ‘WOW 🤩’

rutgermcgroarty MOLLY 😭

Lilybaileys replied to your story ‘5 minutes that’s all I need 😩’

carmenbarlowe replied to your story ‘MOMMY 😮‍💨’

markestapa replied to your story ‘this was not the content i subscribed for’

edwards.73 reacted with 😧

luca.fantilli replied to your story ‘I can’t breathe 😵‍💫’

rutgermcgroarty SHES SO PERFECT 😩

g.brindley4 reacted with 😵

tatemcrae reacted with 🤤

lhughes_06 replied to your story ‘okay wtf 😐☝️’

stellahughes replied to your story ‘PLSS THE SONG😭’

rutgermcgroarty you own the song baby 😍

stellahughes just posted !

📍Aspen, Colorado

liked by masonmctavish23, mackcelebrini, kdach77 and more

🏷️ rutgermcgroarty

🎵: white christmas - Michael Bublé (ft. Shania Twain)

stellahughes my favorite time of the year 🤍

view all comments

bboeser i need that dog

stellahughes ISN’T HE THE CUTEST?? I wanna steal him :[

bboeser do it

_quinnhughes id appreciate it if you wouldn’t help convince my sister to commit CRIMES?

stellahughes HE WILL BE MINE 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

elblue6 love you guys! 🤍

stellahughes we love you more mom 🩷

tatemcrae how do you spell gorgus 😍

stellahughes t-a-t-e 😻

tatemcrae fuckkk i’m gonna marry you 😩

thekidlaroi THE DOG.

stellahughes THE GOAT YOU MEAN 💪🏻

Lilybaileys my pretty pretty princess please come home, love lily 💗

stellahughes lily 😭 I’ll be home soon I promise, xo xo

markestapa skiing….without me? 🥺

stellahughes you were missed 😔

trevorzegras remember when you cried watching frozen and you couldn’t sleep alone for like 2 weeks

stellahughes STOP YOU ASS, I WAS LITERALLY PANICKING ABOUT US GETTING STUCK THE WHOLE TIME 😭

mollyannmcg oh I love you guys 🥹

stellahughes I love you more molls 🥹

vinniehacker you actually got in the water??? CRAZY

stellahughes I loved and hated it

jackhughes fun 🙂

stellahughes A D1 HATER OML 🙄

pshoon2002 how many times do you fall 🤣

stellahughes ur obsessed with me 🫶🏻

lhughes_06 glad your having fun ❤️

stellahughes YOU N JACK NEED TO STOP BEING SO PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE. GET A LIFE 😭🫵

_quinnhughes beautiful ❤️

stellahughes quinny 🥹🩷

_willsmith2 merry christmas stell!!!

stellahughes merry Xmas will 🩷

carmenbarlowe oh I need to adopt that dog, I wanna knit it a sweater

tyler__duke5 knit me a sweater :[

stellahughes KNITTING PARTY WHEN I GET HOME

rutgermcgroarty we need to get a dog NEOW

rutgermcgroarty an amazing trip with you pretty girl, ilysm 🤍

stellahughes Ilysm rut, already looking for dogs 🤭

𝓻oro’s note. I’ve missed stella n rut so much 😭 BUT MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE, I hope you all have a lovely day mwah 💋 so sorry for how short this is, I wanted to get it out on time 🥹

𝓬heck it, 𝔀ishlist! m.list au m.list main m.list

˖ ་ taglist : @winterbarnesblog @toasttt11 @lesrflms @cixrosie @iceflwers @bunbunbl0gs @petite-potato4

#🧦 — 𝓬heck it 𝔀ishlist! ²⁰²⁴ ⊹#👩🏻‍🎨 ͡ ꒱ stella hughes!#hockey imagine #hockey #nhl #nhl imagine #umich x reader #rutger mcgroarty x oc #rutger mcgroarty x hughes sister #rutger mcgroarty au #rutger mcgroarty fluff #rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty #nhl fluff #hughes!reader #hughes!sister #hughes sister

93 notes · View notes