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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot

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formshaper · 1 year ago

Note

🔥 ( i mean-- dutch is a fine attractive bastard )

Oh, he knows.

#ic.#ic: dutch #v: those as need saving #korinthiakos #[ LMAOOOO ]

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chazz-anova · 3 years ago

Text

A Little Bit Of Magic - Chapter 1

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Lady Veronica Rook, a wizard turned rogue bounty hunter and part time thief, is approached by one of the King's men on a stormy night to acquire her services. Little does she know, she's setting off on a quest that will change her forever. (Fantasy!AU)

A/N: LITERALLY I saw one picture and that spawned this entire AU lmao, this has been a fun start and I'm excited for the rest of this little mini-series! I hope you all like as well <3

Dancing candlelight casted amorphous shadows on a bare stone wall. In the center of the room, a firepit blazed; warming the bones of weary travelers who sought refuge from a tempest storm brewing outside the walls of the inn.

Barmaids bustled from table to table, bringing stout ale to rowdy patrons. One such patron sat at the short oak bar, nursing a tankard of beer. In front of the customer stood a barkeep who looked rather piqued. “Veronica, every night you sit here and take up space that could be filled by paying customers. Pray tell, what must I do to squeeze some coin from you?” The woman asked, her sunny blonde hair bobbing as she swept a damp rag over the counter.

Across the bar, Veronica looked up from her stein with a smirk as she replied, “You’d just as likely squeeze coin from me as easily as you’d milk a dragon, Mary May. Is there not a special allowance for a friend who’s saved your life twice over?”

“If I’d known your aid would end up costing me damn near a barrel of ale in the long run, I would have gladly thrown myself into the jaws of death!” Mary professed dramatically, a small smile giving her away.

V rose her tankard high, proclaiming “And what you pay in ale, you make back doubly in entertainment!”

With a sigh- the barmaid stashed the rag she’d been holding under the counter. “Well allow me to take my leave, before your entertainment proves to be too much!” Mary May rolled her eyes as she departed to the back storeroom; Veronica always knew how to work her last nerve.

Now left to her own devices, the woman spun in her seat to analyze the other patrons. She hoped with any luck, she could swindle some coin from someone deep in their cups to secure a room for the night. Unfortunately- saving a friend’s life only afforded you free drinks, not free rooms. Having grown up in the streets of the Kingdom of Hope, Veronica trusted her pickpocketing skills; especially in a tavern such as this.

The Splayed Eagle Inn was run by V’s friend, Mary May, and had been her home for the past few months. All types found themselves in this bar, whether they be well-to-do, working class, or a simple ne’er-do-well. Of course- Veronica liked to think she didn’t fit into any of those categories.

Sitting around the main floor of the inn were a few possible targets, and our girl set to sizing up the first; an older man seated in the corner. He wore the garb of the royal guard. His complexion was that of worn leather, and his eyes scanned the room suspiciously. ‘Not a great mark..’ Veronica thought, shifting her gaze to her next person.

The person in question was not a person at all, but rather a dwarf. The short man guzzled beer from his stein greedily, egged on by two more of his kind. Finishing the drink he slammed down his cup and roared in revelry. ‘Though dwarves love gold and these ones would certainly have some coin, perhaps they are a hair too unmanageable for a robbery.’ Considering this, the woman moved down the list.

Just as Veronica was about to size up her next mark, she felt a hand on her shoulder. The blonde turned, expecting to see Mary May had returned to give her more grief. V was surprised to see an unfamiliar face and she immediately went on the defense, shrugging the stranger’s hand off her shoulder. “Can I help you?” Her words dripped with distrust.

The stranger met her eyes with a look of contempt, and V considered grabbing her dagger in case things became dicey. The woman who’d grabbed her shoulder stepped back now, regarding Veronica coldly with dark eyes. She wore a black fur cape with the hood up, obscuring her features, though her greasy black hair hung in matted locks on her shoulders. She lifted her hood to reveal a ghastly scar across her face. “Yes, mage, I do believe you can help me.” The stranger chuckled.

Hearing her true title, Veronica started visibly, but quickly recovered. ‘How does she know? Certainly this wench is no mage, I sense no magic in her! Is she an assassin from the Guild? Gods, Mary May will kill me if I’ve brought such darkness to her doorstep!’ V’s inner monologue was harried, in contrast to her cool voice as she rebuffed, “Mage? Surely you jest! I am but a humble adventurer.”

Spitting at her feet, the woman scoffed. “Save your lies! I already know of you, Lady Veronica, and of your discharge from the Royal Mages Guild. I come seeking your help in regards to your… new vocation.”

“And what would that be?” V continued to be difficult, her tone hostile. She didn’t like how much this woman knew of her.

“Bounty hunting, of course. Or was it not you that the Royal Guard granted a bounty to just a week ago for bringing in one of the Banshee Queen’s sprites?” At this, Veronica’s mouth drew into a thin line. She knew she’d been got. The ravenette shrugged, “I dare not judge, how else is a rogue witch to make any coin these days?” Though she put on a facade of good cheer, something dangerous lurked in her gaze.

A humorless laugh escaped Ronnie and she lifted her chin defiantly, “Even if you speak the truth, why should I help you, hag?”

Smiling cruelly, she retorted “It is not I who requests your service, but your King and country.”

“Well, his Kingly-ness will simply have to bring is ass down here if he truly wants me help!” V laughed, chalking up the woman’s words to a childish prank.

Suddenly- the stranger closed the short distance between them and the mage felt the tip of a blade threatening to pierce her gut. “I would recommend a modicum of respect for King Dutch. As his bodyguard, I may feel inclined to defend his honor.”

Under her breath, Veronica murmured ancient arcane words and a ball of flames appeared in her spread palm near the woman’s head. “And I may feel inclined to worsen your scar if you do not back away.” She growled the threat, feeling a rush of relief when the King’s bodyguard moved away. She would rather not release a fan of fire in her friend’s bar.

Sheathing her dagger, the woman took a breath. “Let us start over. I am Jess Black, bodyguard and right hand to King Dutch Roosevelt.” She gave a stately bow along with her title.

“Well Lady Black, what would you have of me?” V asked, voice laden with suspicion. Though she preferred to seek her own bounties, a requisition from the King was sure to bring decent coin.

As they began to discuss business, Jess took a seat next to Veronica and spoke vaguely. “Our ruler would have you retrieve a package for him, for a hefty reward.” When the mage said nothing, she continued, “I cannot divulge the details- but you will find what you need in the hamlet of Fall’s End with a cleric named Jerome.”

“Am I expected to go forward with such little information?” She shook her head in disbelief, finally finishing her drink.

“You are expected to do as our ruler bids! I have told you all I know.”

Veronica’s brow furrowed as she probed, “Surely his majesty has sent some sort of incentive, if it is truly he who sent you!”

Jess sighed heavily, producing a leather pouch from the folds of her cape. She set it on the bar with a clink, and V grabbed it immediately. “Gods, there must be nearly forty gold here!” She exclaimed, counting it out quickly.

“Our benefactor has put this forward as a downpayment of sorts, with the promise of more once he’s gotten his package. On the condition that you leave immediately.” Jess asserted with a nod.

The blonde eyed the gold hungrily- knowing she was on hard times. “Well if my kingdom needs me, who am I to resist the call? Though surely ‘immediately’ could mean ‘first thing in the morn’, with his Highness’s mercy?”

Putting a hand on the pouch of gold, the ravenette shook her head. “I must insist on your departure this night, King Roosevelt wishes for no delay in your meeting with Jerome.”

For a moment Veronica’s gaze shifted from Jess back to the pouch of gold, but she relented with a sigh. “It will take me a moment to prepare myself, and I shall make haste.”

Jess gave a rare smile, acquiescing “Your speed is most appreciated.” She turned to the back wall of the bar then, wondering aloud, “Where is the damn barkeep?”

With their conversation over and coin now heavy in her pocket, V slipped behind the bar to the back office where she’d stashed her travel pack.

Mary May’s office was small but tidy, featuring a large desk and business ledger. Sitting there was Mary herself, counting out coin into the safe next to the desk. Next to the safe was Veronica’s beige backpack, which May let her stash in the office during business hours. Hearing her footsteps, the blonde turned away from her safe to face V. “Ah, come to retrieve your loot without buying a room to store it in first? You must have gotten yourself a job.”

A smile crossed Veronica’s features, showing pearly white teeth. “You know me well friend, I must be off immediately unfortunately, so it would appear you’ll save some ale tonight yet!” She crossed the threshold into the room, leaning over the other to grab her sack.

“My, it must be an illustrious one to cause you to abandon a perfectly good night of drinking!” She chuckled.

This made the blonde stop a moment as she considered telling her friend the details. Thinking better of it, she instead said, “Nothing so fancy! I should be back in a week at the latest, try not to miss me too much!” Giving Mary May a chuckle., Before Veronica was fully out the door, she leaned back to say quickly “And be sure to give your worst service to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar!”

V slung her sack across her back, weaving through Mary May’s drunken customers towards the front door. Once she cleared the room, she turned back one last time and saw Jess staring at her as she departed. The look on her face gave her chills.

The heavy door to the Splayed Eagle Inn opened with a prolonged creak, and gave way to a gust of wind that caused the mage to pull her cloak closer around her. She stepped foot into the deluge outside and hustled into the treeline, taking her first steps towards facing an evil she couldn’t begin to imagine.

#fc5 #far cry 5 #veronica rook #jess black #mary may fairgrave #my writing #fantasy!au #a little bit of magic

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morgan-macguire · 4 years ago

Text

Outlaws For Life

Arthur Morgan x reader (rdr1)

Summary: After Johns family is taken, he comes to you and Arthur.

Warnings: rdr1 spoilers, rdr2 spoilers too tbh

A/n: I finished rdr1 for the first time in years a while ago and wanted to write this. In this fic, Arthur did not die on the mountain. Also!! it’s gender neutral :) Arthur and reader have kids but I didn’t say how they got them so that part is up to u lol :)

idk if anyone still reads for red dead, but I’m still writing (very slowly)!

masterlist

not my gif

Thick grey clouds blanketed the normally blue sky. A cold breeze swept through the land, much unlike the usual pleasant breeze that you’d grown so accustomed to. Rain was heading your way for sure, Arthur and the boys were taking advantage of the weather as much as possible. They’d invited you to come along on their fishing trip, but you declined. As much as you loved spending time with them, you didn’t want to get caught out in the rain.

So instead, you stayed home and looked after the house. Arthur assured you they wouldn’t be out too late, they’d be back by supper time. He offered to cook upon his return, but you beat him to it. A hearty venison stew, including some fresh vegetables from the garden, was already cooking on the stove before they got home.

You had just finished setting the table when you heard three heavy taps on the front door. It was unlike Arthur to knock before entering his own home, so you peered through the kitchen window to find out who was paying you a visit before heading over to the door.

“John Marston!” You gasped, stepping through the doorway to engulf him in a hug, “It’s been too long.”

John let out a small chuckle, “That it has, y/n.”

“Please, come in. Supper is just about finished,” you opened the door fully after letting him go, not bothering to wait for his reply. “Arthur should be back with the boys soon.”

John mumbled out a thank you, following you into the kitchen. He took a deep breath, inhaling the delicious smell of the stew pot. Abigail was, without a doubt, a terrible cook. The last time he smelled something so good, he nearly brought his family to live with you.

“Where are Abigail and Jack?” You questioned, setting an extra seat at the table for him and returning to the pot on the stove.

“That’s why I’m here, actually.” It didn’t take much for you to pick up on the frustration that laced his raspy voice. You ceased your movements, setting the silverware aside and taking a seat with your old friend.

“What’s wrong, John?”

Whatever he had come to tell you, it was hurting him something fierce. You could see it in his eyes. They drifted from yours as his shoulders tensed in visible irritation. Your hands moved to rest on his, hoping to provide some comfort. As he gathered the words in his mind, you couldn’t help but wonder if they had left him again. Sure, John wasn’t always the best father or husband, but he always tried his best. After all these years and after what happened with their daughter, surely they wouldn’t leave. It was silly of you to even think that.

“The government took them. They tracked me down, and want me to go after the rest of the gang. They took my family.”

“Oh my lord. John, I-“ You waited a moment to process what you had just heard. With a hand raised to cover your mouth in shock, you were speechless. After all these years, the government was still after the Van Der Linde Gang, or what was left of it. Before you could gather your words, the front door swung open. You heard Arthur’s spurs clink through the threshold, followed by two less than graceful sets of footsteps thundering in after.

Arthur‘s gentle voice laughed at something that was said prior to entering the house. You heard him gather the fishing poles and tell the boys to check on you while he put the gear away. It didn’t take long for the boys to stumble into the kitchen, faces lighting up at the sight of their Uncle sitting across from you.

“Uncle John!” Thomas and George both raced to your friend, nearly knocking him off his chair in the process, “We saw your horse out front!” Thomas noted.

“You two are gettin’ big.” John smiled, patting both of your sons. He stood up to greet Arthur when he stepped into the kitchen, slightly damp from the rain.

“The golden boy!” The two men embraced, both glad to see the other. You sent the boys away to wash up as you removed the stew pot from the stove.

“Let’s eat. We have to talk. Away from the boys.” You sent Arthur a pointed glance, silently letting him know that it was important, before looking back to John for his input.

“Of course.” John nodded.

When the boys returned, the four of you sat around the table to eat. The dinner conversation was pleasant, and consisted mostly of your boys telling John stories of their recent adventures with their father. Of course, they fabricated many of the details, but John pretended to believe everything. The cheerful mood turned sour, however, when Arthur inquired about John’s family.

“What are Abigail and Jack up to?” Arthur asked, casually taking a bite of his stew.

John instantly frowned, glancing to you before looking back at his brother. The table grew silent quickly, and both young boys looked to you.

“George, Thomas, why don’t you finish your supper in the family room, like you’re always asking to do?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to eat in there?” Thomas popped an eyebrow up at you.

“We can make an exception tonight. Now go ahead, before I change my mind.” You ruffled George’s hair as the two of them relocated to the other room without a second thought.

Arthur eyed you and John carefully. He could sense that whatever John had come to say wasn’t anything pleasant, so he patiently waited to be informed. When the boys were completely out of earshot, John began to explain his predicament.

“Agent Ross tracked me down. Him and all of his government boys took Abigail and Jack. They’re holding them somewhere, won’t say where. They say I’ve gotta go after Bill, Javier, and Dutch to get ‘em back.”

Arthur was silent. He sat in shock, eyebrows creasing in the middle as he thought over the situation.

“I hate to ask, you know I do, but I need help.”

“It’s been a long time, John.”

“I know, brother. We all got out of that life years ago, I thought it was done.”

“We’ll never be done, John. The life we lived, it don’t let you out.” Arthur sighed. His shoulders sank and he glanced towards the family room before looking to you with sorrow in his eyes.

John sank in his seat.

“We’ll do what we can to help you, John. We’ll get Abigail and Jack back.” You said what Arthur was thinking, doing your best to reassure John.

“Thank you,” he nodded, “I know Javier is somewhere in Mexico. Bill is hiding in Fort Mercer behind his own gang, I figured that much out when he shot me-“

“You were shot?!” You gasped.

“It ain’t the first time.” John pointed out halfheartedly.

John went on to explain his peculiar circumstances. He’d been rescued by a rancher woman, Bonnie McFarlane, of the McFarlane ranch out in New Austin. She had him fixed up at the doctor and let him work off the bill. He was planning to go after the rest of your former family alone, but he needed to tell you and Arthur first. It didn’t feel right leaving the two of you in the dark, especially with how things ended with the Van Der Linde gang.

“We won’t let you do this alone, John.”

John shook his head, denying Arthur.

“Arthur, I can’t ask you to come with me. I was trying to avoid you being involved in this as much as possible. I just need information-“

“You’re not asking.” Arthur cut John off, “You’re my brother. I ain’t gonna let you do this on your own. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

You agreed with Arthur as a nervous pit settled in your stomach. The two of you had a family. You knew Arthur would drop everything to make sure his family was safe, he’d do the same for John’s. You also knew he would be going with John alone. He’d beg you to stay home, safe, with the boys. After everything that had happened all those years ago in the gang, he swore to himself that he’d never let you or your family fall into harms way again. He intended to keep that promise, no matter the cost.

Arthur, sensing your anxiety, placed his hand over yours under the table, trying to comfort you. He was likely thinking the same thing.

“No.” John managed to mutter out through the turmoil in his chest. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, staring at Mr. Marston with a look of bewilderment.

“I have to do this alone,” John began, “You can’t come.” He watched Arthur carefully as he finished his statement. Arthur couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“You’ll be killed, John. How do you know they’ll just hand Abigail and Jack over once this is done, huh?”

“Goddammit, Arthur!“ John raised his voice, “You’ve got a family here. This isn’t exactly the easiest job we’ve been on. They was once our family.”

“They stopped being family long ago, John. They made that call.” Arthur’s voice had shifted to a low growl as he recalled everything.

“I know, Arthur. That’s why I need to go alone. You got out for good, they all think you’re buried somewhere in the Grizzlies. You have to keep it like that, for your family’s sake.”

“And what about your family, John? What if you get shot again, and there’s no one to save you? You know that the two of us could get this done far quicker and easier than you on your own. They won’t even know I was there.”

“I don’t need saving! I need you to stay dead.” John nearly shouted, startling you. As much as you understood John’s point, you knew there was no changing Arthur’s mind. The two of them were a powerful duo, even though neither of them were in their prime age anymore. Two was safer than one. The Marstons were family, and family takes care of each other.

“Please, take this outside.” You interrupted the conversation with a heavy heart, not wanting the boys to hear them argue. Arthur almost started yelling back at John, but he stopped himself after hearing your voice. He took a frustrated breath, giving your hand one last squeeze before releasing it and standing up. John followed him out the front door without a word.

As soon as the door shut, you heard the two of them start arguing. Their voices were muffled due to the rain having picked up, but you had a pretty good idea about what they were saying. The porch shielded them from the water, but didn’t drown their voices out completely.

You dropped your head in your hands, trying to tune their voices out. A pit of anxiety formed inside you, eating away at your stomach. You just sat there, for who knows how long, thinking about how long Arthur would be away. Fort Mercer was far enough, they’d have to go to Tall Trees and Mexico.

After a short while, the argument outside grew quiet and John and Arthur entered the house. They returned to their seats without a word to each other. All it took was one look from Arthur for you to know what the decision was. John could barely look at you, he felt so bad.

You reached out to embrace your friend, not knowing what to say in the moment, and three of you went on to finish your meals. The conversation was awkward at first, but as time went on it strayed further from the inevitable and grew more lively. You told small anecdotes about your time at the Morgan ranch and John told stories about Beecher’s Hope. It had been months since the last visit from the Marstons. For now, you were just making up for the lost time.

Before you knew it, the sun had set and the stars shone bright behind the thick rain clouds. Your chat with John and Arthur stole the evening, and it was nearly time for the boys to hit the sack before you realized. You had only been made aware of how much time had actually passed when Thomas and George came stumbling in. Always full of energy, they bounced around the kitchen and dragged Arthur away for a short while.

“Would you stay the night, John? It’s late and the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up soon.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.” John offered a sad smile, helping you clear the table. Your heart ached for your old friend. John was truly in an unfair situation, and you could see the physical toll it was taking on him. He had worked hard day and night to create a better life for his family. He fought for years for them. It was supposed to be over. He was supposed to be living out his golden years just like you and Arthur, away from the government and the problems they created as a happy family. The only difference was that unlike John, the government believed Arthur was a dead man. He died on top of that mountain all those years ago.

“John.” you pulled yourself from you thoughts, gently grabbing his shoulder. When he turned to face you, you continued, “You’ve been dealt an awful hand, and I’m sorry for it. Arthur and I have your back. You’ll be back with Abigail and Jack in no time.”

“I really can’t thank you enough. You’ve both been too kind to me.”

“Nonsense, John,” you smiled, “We’re family, and family takes care of each other.”

—

After putting the boys to bed and getting John settled in his room for the night, you and Arthur couldn’t wait to get to sleep. The two of you had changed into your night clothes quickly, eagerly crawling under the covers together. Arthur wrapped an arm around your waist, drawing you in close to him. Reaching for his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his and pressed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. What a day it had been.

“What are we gonna do?” You asked, rubbing your thumb against the back of his palm.

Arthur exhaled into your neck, shaking his head. “We can’t let him do this alone.”

“I know, Arthur.” That much you were sure about. Everything else was up in the air. The two of you sat quietly for a while, silently thinking about what the near future had in store for your family.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x reader #rdr2 x reader #john marston #red dead redemption 1 #rdr1 #rdr1 x reader #red dead redemption 1 x reader #john marston x reader #john marston rdr

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jornthur · 4 years ago

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“Unshaken” Chapter V

Originally posted: March 25, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

One week later …

The large male buck stood in front of him again, only this time it was in the middle of a shallow river, bending its head down to drink from it.

Arthur was standing right on the water’s edge facing toward the animal, the solid ground he stood on feeling soft beneath his boots. On the other side of the river he could see an endless, wide-open field of nothing but large grassy hills.

A heavy storm billowed in the distance beyond the land, thunder rumbling, causing the ground to shake beneath him. As he watched the dark clouds, they appeared to be drawing closer towards him and the deer.

Looking over his shoulder, Arthur could see nothing but heavy fog behind him, unable to see what lied beyond it. He turned back to look at the deer again, but it still hadn’t seemed to notice that he was there.

Arthur tried to move, but his body refused to obey. It was as if his mind were completely detached from his body. What the hell was going on?

Suddenly he started to feel like he was floating, and Arthur looked down to notice that the fog had begun to wrap around his feet, slowly engulfing his entire body as it crept up his legs, then his torso, until it was all but surrounding him. His body continued to be lifted from the ground as the fog started to pull him into it.

Just as he could barely see the deer through the mist, it lifted its head and looked at him again. But this time, its eyes were brown … almost like —

John’s.

Arthur’s heart stopped.

He reached out, starting to struggle against the fog’s hold, trying to stay with the deer. He tried to shout as loud as he could, “John!” His heart suddenly began to beat fast, the beats loud like drums in his ears. The more he fought the fog, the faster and louder they got.

The creature turned away, as if it hadn’t heard him, and it started making its way to the other side of the river, toward the storm.

“John!”

With the loudest and final beat, lightning struck between them, the sharp light blinding his vision.

Arthur snapped awake, breathing hard.

Sunlight was shining directly on his face through the window and he blinked hard, turning away so that the rays wouldn’t blind him.

Another dream, he thought, but this one had been different. Before this he’d been in the forest every time, with the deer always appearing near him. This time though … the location had been completely different. Two sides split by a body of water, and the deer … it had had John’s eyes.

Arthur groaned as he lifted a hand to rub at his face, trying to clear his mind. What the hell were these dreams trying to tell him, he wondered, or were they just a bunch of nonsense? He guessed the latter for the sake of his own sanity, what little was left of it. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on something like that when it probably meant nothing.

He sat up slowly, the blanket that had been covering him falling away and landing on the floor as he moved his legs over to hang off the side of the couch. He looked around at the cabin in an effort to remind himself where he was, taking in the sitting room, the fireplace, the door to Y/N’s office, the kitchen door across the room, the hallway over to the left that led to the bedrooms. He couldn’t see Y/N or Austin anywhere, so they were probably outside.

Nearly a whole month had passed since he’d been saved from that mountain and taken in, and by nothing short of a miracle he was still here … alive. It was still very difficult for him to grasp. He brought a hand up to rub at his chest. Over the last few days he’d stopped feeling any more pain there, his breathing barely taking any effort at all now.

And it was all thanks to Y/N, he thought. He smiled to himself, thinking about her. He didn’t deserve all that she’d done for him, and he knew it. Not after all the horrible things he’d done throughout his life.

His memories had been coming back together piece by piece ever since the herb and medicine doses had started being spaced out over the last week, and he couldn’t help but feel more lost from every memory that came back to him.

He remembered the gang. He remembered the friends he’d lost, all the years of his life he’d been with them.

They were all gone now …

He’d spent so much of his life in a gang he considered his family above everything else.

He thought about his old friends, wondering where they were now.

He thought about Dutch, how he’d spent so many years of his life staying loyal to him, doing all the dirty work he was told to do. He’d given him all he had … only to have the man leave him behind on that mountain in the end.

Then there was John, his own family, Abigail and their son Jack.

John had struggled for so long to accept who he was, and Arthur had sent him away, giving him a chance to lead a normal life with them. He’d deserved it more than anyone he knew.

He’d sacrificed his own life to save John’s in order for him to live the life Arthur never had.

Arthur remembered giving over his father’s hat to him before he’d left, never imagining that he would ever make it out alive.

Where was John now? Were he and his family safe?

Arthur lowered his head, grimacing at the mental pain and loss he felt. He couldn’t bear to think of John not having made it out alive. The fact that the satchel had been left behind was worrisome, had John dropped it by accident while he’d fled?

Arthur raised his head and looked over on the nightstand where his journal sat. Over the last several days he’d worked up the courage to read it, trying to remember every single thing he could from his past. There were so many entries he’d marked down about the things he’d seen, the places he’d been, the things he’d done. All those sketches … that journal was so overwhelming to look at each time he opened up the damn thing.

He reached out to grab it, opening it up to the last page he’d done. The entry that had been meant for John and his family.

Arthur took a deep breath, and couldn’t help the tear that escaped from his eye as he thought of his past, the tear leaving a wet trail behind on his cheek. He sniffed hard and shook his head.

You ain’t like this, he thought to himself. Really, he needed to believe that John had made it out of there, and that him and his family were now somewhere safe, away from the world’s troubles, living in peace.

Flipping the page over, he stared at the blank page, then wondered … where the hell was he going to go from here?

A loud banging started up, like a heavy hammer on wood. Arthur raised his head and looked out the window. It sounded like it was coming from outside, but from where he was sitting all he could see were trees through the thick glass.

He closed his journal and placed it back down on the nightstand.

Bracing his hands on his knees, Arthur pushed himself to his feet. He nearly lost his balance as he stood, but gained it back quickly by throwing his arms out to steady himself. He needed to start moving around soon, he thought. His body was starting to become soft. He’d gotten up several times during the past week to move around, but he really needed to do some kind of hard physical labor to get back into shape again. There was no doubt he could find something to do.

He ran a hand through his hair as he walked over to the mirror above the fireplace. Looking into it, he scratched at his thick beard. It was getting really long, and he really needed to trim it. Was there a razor lying around? Y/N’s brother had to have a few somewhere. He hated to rummage through their things, but he’d feel much better if his beard was shorter.

He made his way down the small hallway and opened one of the doors, only to be met with what was definitely Y/N’s bedroom. A single small bed sat on the other side of the room between two windows, floral-patterned bedding covering it. He quickly closed the door before he saw anything else, his face nearly heating. He’d mistaken the wrong door, clearly.

Turning around he tried the other door, and it was a small washing room. Here we go, he thought, spotting a razor on a small shelf below a large round mirror. He closed the door behind him and got to work on trimming his beard til it was about a third of an inch long, just how he preferred it.

Once he was finished he cleaned up and replaced everything back to where it had been before.

He walked back into the sitting room and picked the blanket up off the floor, folding it up and setting it over the back of the couch. Feeling useless, the least he could do was clean up after himself.

The banging noise still continued, and Arthur looked over at the window again. Walking over to it, he peered through to see what the source of the noise was. He spotted Austin pounding away at a fence post over by the stables, forcing the thing into the ground with a large hammer.

Arthur moved his head around, trying to see if he could spot Y/N anywhere until he finally saw her. She was in her garden, on her hands and knees working on her plants. She looked totally engrossed in her work, seeming not to pay any mind to anything around her but her garden.

He smiled to himself as he watched her. That brave woman had risked so much to save his life. She had such a caring heart, and if not for her he wouldn’t be here.

When she’d asked why he called her honey, he hadn’t been expecting the question, so his stupid self had given her only half of an answer. In all honesty it was a cute nickname for her, but he wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear the real reason. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was ready, he thought, feeling stupid.

Even though he’d asked her several days ago why she’d saved him, he had a feeling she hadn’t been entirely truthful with her response. He wasn’t even sure if she knew the answer herself. So they were both on equal ground, so to speak.

He still didn’t understand why she’d gone through so much to help him, a stranger, recover from his tuberculosis.

That thought brought another. The disease in him was dying, and he could feel the huge difference all throughout his body. He still had small coughing fits here and there, but they had gotten shorter and less painful over time, and there was no longer any blood. His body seemed to be successfully fighting off the bacteria with the help of all the medicine and herbs Y/N had given to him over the last few weeks.

Arthur stared at Y/N for a bit longer, and he couldn’t help but admit to himself how pretty she actually was. If he were honest with himself, he’d actually noticed how beautiful she was the first time he’d opened his eyes and seen her face, right before he’d given her his name.

He allowed himself to examine her features, taking her in. Her body was formed so nicely from all the physical work she did. Her thick hair was tied in a loose bun to keep it from getting dirty, her skin tanned from being out in the sun so much. And she was wearing jeans and a blouse along with leather boots instead of a dress.

Come to think of it, he thought, he’d never seen her in a dress. Did she even own any? He shook his head, clearing that thought. Why did that even matter? It wasn’t like he cared what sort of clothes she wore. Though he did have to admit … she did look damn good in the clothes she wore.

Arthur stepped back from the window and took a long breath, letting it out slowly. He shook himself mentally, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed to find something to do. But what?

He pondered for a minute until he looked at his journal. His eyes skimmed over to the desk in the office where the pencils that Y/N had mentioned to him were lying.

He rubbed at his jaw with his thumb and let out a sigh, trying to decide what to do.

After a long moment of thinking he finally gave in. He walked over to grab one of the pencils then came back into the sitting room. Heading over to the front door he snatched his journal up on the way and went outside.

Damn, the sun felt so good on his skin, he thought as he stepped out onto the porch, quiet so as not to disturb Y/N or Austin from their work. There was a bench swing over to the side and he went over to sit on it. It faced toward the garden so he was able to watch Y/N as she worked.

She definitely did look lovely, even covered in dirt, he thought with a small grin. He could tell that she really loved her plants by the way she treated them with those gentle hands. The same gentle hands that had worked so very hard to save him from death.

Arthur looked closer to see what she was working on. It was a Yarrow, a pretty one, too, it’s red petals bright in color and looking very healthy.

Opening his journal, he flipped to a blank page and brought the tip of his pencil to the paper. He didn’t even know if he could still draw after everything his mind and body had been through, but he damn well would try.

He lifted his head to look at Y/N several times to take in every detail as he started sketching.

•••••

You straightened and wiped at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, taking a moment to catch your breath. Your back was starting to hurt from being bent over for so long, but you didn’t care at the moment, only thinking about the plants and what they needed in order to thrive. They might as well have been your own children with all the time and effort you put into them, you thought with a small laugh to yourself.

Bending down again you dug at the dirt with your fingers, loosening the soil, then grabbed the large watering pail and sprinkled the cool water onto the loose ground.

“There ya go, fellas,” you said to the plants. It was a bit silly, sure, but you liked to believe that talking to them helped them to grow even more healthy and beautiful.

As you pruned a few more leaves, you started to feel like you were being watched.

You looked over your shoulder and saw Arthur sitting on the porch swing. You smiled to yourself, glad that he was feeling well enough to come outside.

It looked like he was working on something, and you looked closer to see what it was, it appeared that he was scribbling something in his journal with one of your pencils. It made you feel happy to know that he had taken you up on your offer.

Then you wondered what he was working on in that journal, and curiosity got the better of you. He appeared to be distracted, so you stood quickly and snuck around the back of the cabin.

•••••

Arthur looked up from his sketch to take in more details, and noticed that Y/N was gone. What the hell? He looked around, wondering where she’d went.

•••••

You snuck up behind Arthur, trying to be as quiet as you possibly could. He’d noticed you’d disappeared, and you knew he had excellent hearing, so you had to move quickly. Approaching from behind him you looked over his shoulder to see what he’d been working on.

Your heart stopped.

It was a drawing of you in your garden as you’d been working on your flowers … it was absolutely gorgeous.

“That’s so beautiful, Arthur,” you complimented softly.

Arthur jerked his head around, snapping his journal closed. “Y/N! You shouldn’t sneak up on a man like that,” he said teasingly, “You could get yourself in trouble.”

You let out a laugh, “Don’t be silly, Arthur, now let me look at that drawin’ again?”

Arthur lowered his eyes, as if he were thinking about your request and whether he wanted to deny it.

“Please?” You gave him a playful sad look, trying to appeal to his soft side.

He let out a groan-like huff and reluctantly opened the journal back to the drawing, holding it out for you to see.

You stepped around the bench and sat down next to him, taking the journal into your hands to get a better look.

The style was simple, yet detailed at the same time. The scribbles were heavy and light in certain areas, giving off the lighting and shading effects. He’d sketched out your garden and the trees in the background, and the lines of you body appeared to have been done with great care.

“Arthur, this is stunnin’, the way you draw … you have so much talent!”

Arthur reached an arm up to rub at the back of his neck, his expression looking shy, “Yeah, well, thought I might find somethin’ to do. Gets a bit borin’ in there.” He said with a deep chuckle.

You smiled up at him.

He returned the smile shyly, then he looked over at your garden. “So how long you been into plants?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

You turned your gaze to your garden, a small smile stretching your lips. “Pretty much my whole life,” you answered. “My mother actually got me into them when I was only four years old. At first I fell in love with flowers because of their beautiful colors, the way they all looked so different from each other.”

You could feel Arthur’s warm blue gaze on you, and you continued.

“I told my mother that I wanted to try to grow my own flower, and she helped me plant and nurture my first one, a white lily, from a seedling. When it finally bloomed, I was so happy. My mother told me that white lilies were known to protect other plants around them from diseases … ”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur straighten. “Is that right? Well, fancy that.”

You nearly laughed, realizing the double meaning your words actually had. “Yeah, well, after it became the first flower I grew, it also became my favorite. I even named my horse Lily. Unfortunately, I’ve never found any in this area, so I’m not able to grow any more.” You sighed, “But when I think about them, I think about my mother … all the love she had to offer for everyone.”

You felt tears welling in your eyes and you covered your face with your hands, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to — ”

You felt a large hand on your shoulder and your breath hitched. Arthur was trying to comfort you.

“Don’t be, Y/N. You’re alright, just breathe … ” his deep voice was soothing, and it calmed you down a little.

But then anger started simmering deep in your gut, and you couldn’t help the fury that began to boil in you. “She would still be alive if it wasn’t for them,” you spat out the last word.

Arthur’s hand moved to your back, running it up and down. “Who?”

Your eyes narrowed at the horrible memory. “They came during the night. It was just me and Mother, we’d been preparing supper for when Father and Austin came back, but then — ” you took in a shaky breath, “I heard a window break, and next thing I knew there were gunshots. There were three of them … my mother tried to fight them off, but they’d held me at gunpoint, and she’d surrendered. They tied us up and then interrogated her.

“They’d been looking for something, just shouting nonstop at her, but then … I don’t know why it happened, one of them .. they just shot her,” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling, you voice cracking. “My brother came through the door with a gun, and they fled.” You nearly growled the next words, “Those damnoutlaws!”

Arthur’s hand froze on your back, but you barely noticed it as rage began running through your entire body. “Those men killed her,” you said through gritted teeth, tears finally escaping your eyes. “I hate them, I hate all of them, every outlaw out there, I hate them with every part of my being!” You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hands.

Arthur’s body seemed to tense, and you raised your head to look up at him, suddenly worried for his health. “Are you alright, Arthur?”

His expression looked strange, but he just shook his head. “It’s nothin’.” He said, giving you a small smile of reassurance.

But his eyes told a different story …

“I’m so sorry for what you went through, honey,” Arthur said softly, “I know what it’s like to lose the ones you love.”

•••••

— To Be Continued

#unshaken #chapter 5 #part 5 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #slow burn #romance #arthur morgan #fanfic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine

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verai-marcel · 4 years ago

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The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 1 of 6, 18+)

Summary: John Marston was proud to be part of the VDL Riders, a biker gang led by Dutch van der Linde, and had been with them since he had run from home at the age of 15. He and his makeshift family lived by three principles: live free, help those who need it, and punish those who deserve it. For five years, his gang was all he cared about and nothing else mattered. But then John meets you, and his priorities start to change.

Author’s Notes: Go check out @veradia’s biker AU RDR2 art for what inspired me to write this. This is a prequel to Before This Dance Is Through, so everyone is 6 years younger; John is about 20 in this story and so are you, my dear reader.

Tags: prequel fic, eventual smut, romance, drama, violence, cheesy 80s vibe even though it's 2012, modern AU, switching POVs

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

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

Chapter 1 - Start at the End

Word count: 2032

“Dammit Morgan, you could’ve warned me!”

Arthur grinned as he slapped John’s back. “Well, that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?”

The others laughed while John rubbed the back of his head, leaning down to pick up the can of beer. It looked too shaken up to open at this point, so he set it on the table and glared at his brothers. Stalking past them towards the mini-fridge, he pulled out another beer, popped it open and took a long gulp. Dressed in his favorite black leather jacket over a plain white shirt, ripped black jeans, a chain on his belt to keep his wallet from being stolen, and scuffed biker boots, John looked like he bought all of his clothes in the late 80s and never changed.

“So, what’re we doing tonight?” Javier asked, leaning against the mezzanine railing. He had his medium length hair tied up, strands of it falling from the hair tie to frame his angled face. His leather vest and his blue jeans were impeccably clean, and not a single misplaced thread was on his V-neck shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He carried his favorite combat knife in a holster on his hip, hidden under the vest, and he wore black fingerless leather gloves.

Lenny sat on the couch, his freshly polished black boots propped up on the coffee table. He looked like he didn’t quite belong in a motorcycle club, in his black pants and black T-shirt. His white cowboy hat was clean, his white blazer crisp. He had his own knife holster, concealed under his jacket.

Sean was standing behind the couch, leaning against the back of it. He wore a green headband around his shoulder length hair, fancying himself an Irish Rambo, choosing to wear a blue athletic cut T-shirt and olive green khakis. He wore his brown Timberland boots, the same ones he had since he joined the gang. They looked dirty and scuffed to hell, but they still did their job, so he had no reason to buy new ones. His green & red striped flannel was tied around his waist, hiding a knife holster.

Charles was sitting back in one of the arm chairs catty-corner to the couch. He had his long hair braided tight, the sides of his head shaved. His dark blue peacoat was open to show his black turtleneck and blue jeans. Both of his black biker boots had knife holsters with a few throwing knives.

They all looked towards Arthur, who shrugged as he looked at all of them. He had his worn cowboy hat on with his old bomber jacket over a grey shirt, faded blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it with his silver zippo lighter, breathing in and letting out a puff of smoke before he responded.

“Dutch wants us to go run security at some rich feller’s house party.”

“And how are we supposed to manage t’at? I don’t have any fine clothin’ for the occasion,” Sean groused.

“No amount of clothing can save you,” Javier joked.

Sean glared as the others laughed.

“Dutch said we just wear black polos and black jeans so we look like a security company,” Arthur said once the laughter died down.

“So. Is there an alternative motive for this job?” Charles asked.

“Of course there is,” Lenny said confidently. “There’s no way Dutch would deal with those kind of folks without a reason.”

Arthur nodded. ��Word is that the rich feller has quite the car collection. We sneak in after the party while everyone’s wasted and drive a few of them outta there. Swap out the plates, get a paint job over at Hosea’s, done deal.”

“And if they have alarms or kill switches?” John asked.

“You know how to hot wire,” Arthur sniped. “You, Javier, and Lenny can deal with it.” He walked past all of them and headed down the stairs. "Meet you all back here by 6pm."

John shrugged. As they split up to prepare for the job, he looked around the small warehouse they called their biker club. Walking down the stairs, he went past their bike shop area underneath the mezzanine and paused for a moment. They had slowly built this place up from scratch, bringing in old furniture for their hang out space and tools to take care of their bikes.

And on the other side of the warehouse were two offices that had been converted into bedrooms. While the others had their own places to live, John and Arthur lived at the club, having both been orphans and taken in by Dutch. Their rooms weren’t anything fancy, just a little bit of room to sleep and store their worldly possessions. John headed to his room to take a nap.

Instead, he lay on his old mattress, staring at the ceiling. He had been with the gang for five years, since he ran away from his foster home. His mother had died six years ago from a drug overdose. When she was lucid, which wasn’t very often, she was kind, even as her eyes bled sadness at the edges; those were the memories he held onto the tightest. He didn’t even know who his father was, or if he was even still alive, but he knew that if he ever met him in person, he'd knock his lights out for leaving his mother such a wreck.

After he had been sent to foster care, his foster parents didn’t try to understand him, they only tried to mold him into what they thought a proper young man should be. So he ran away. When Dutch found him, scrounging for food in a trash can behind the warehouse, he took him in. Gave him shelter.

Then there was Arthur. He was like a big brother, taught him how to fend for himself, taught him what it meant to give more than you received, even if it came with insults and punches to the face at times.

As more outcasts joined the gang, they also became his family, his brothers. Javier, Sean, Lenny, and Charles, one by one, they all joined and quickly became an intrinsic part of his life. He’d never want for more than this.

But lately, Dutch seemed off. For the past year, John had noticed him taking bigger risks, sending them on more violent jobs, and slowly stepping away from the hands-on work, leaving it to “the younger, faster men,” as he called them. There was a tinge of blind desperation in how Dutch led them now, almost as if he wanted to push them towards something greater, but wasn’t sure what that something was.

Rolling over, he stared at the wall covered in Led Zeppelin, Eagles, and other classic rock posters. He looked at the one Metallica poster he had and smiled wryly as he remembered Arthur throwing it at him, snarling “happy fucking birthday”, and slamming his door. He later found out that Arthur had snuck into the concert, stolen a poster, and ran half a mile to get away. And all because John had whined about not being able to go that night because he was sick.

He sighed and got up. He wasn’t going to get any sleep now. Leaving his room, he tinkered with his Honda Shadow Aero, his pride and joy, until it was time to go.

***

“We certainly look dangerous,” Charles said with a hint of humor in his voice as he calmly got out of the gang’s Sprinter van.

“That’s because we are,” Javier said matter-of-factly as he hopped out next.

Everyone bounded out of the van, with John the last out. He pulled the sliding door shut and followed the others into the house, hanging back as he listened to Arthur talk with the party host about the job. He trailed behind them as they were led around the house and made mental notes about where the party goers were allowed to go and where they were forbidden.

Once they were left to their own devices, Arthur turned around. “Alright men, let’s get to work.”

***

The party was wild, the party-goers were disgusting, and at the end, half of them were drunk, and the other half were passed out.

It was almost far too easy to sneak into the garage, pick a couple cars that were not too flashy, and drive them off the premises.

As they took off down some quiet back roads to lose any would-be followers, John sat and stared out the window into the pitch black night as Arthur drove with the window rolled down, his arm hanging out the window. Lenny and Sean had taken a car while Charles and Javier had left the party earlier, driving the van to Hosea’s shop.

“Hey.”

“What.”

John scratched his beard. “Do ya think—”

“I think more than you,” Arthur interrupted.

“Dammit Arthur, I’m tryin’ to be serious here!”

“Calm your balls,” Arthur said gruffly. “Yer so easy to rile up, I can’t help it.”

John let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you think Dutch is… do you think he’s tired of this? Of the club?”

Arthur was silent for a few moments. “Why do you say that?”

“He hasn’t been around much lately. He tells us to go do these jobs that are more and more dangerous. We haven’t done a charity drive or anythin’ nice for the community in the past two years.”

“Yeah, I noticed too. I don’t know, I’m sure somethin’ will come around. Maybe he’s been busy just tryin’ to get us steady work.”

“We used to just get jobs that were just jobs. Now we always have some double crossin’ or thievin’ or some shit that could get us in serious trouble!”

Arthur was silent for a little too long.

“Arthur?”

His sigh was long and tired. “I know. I know.”

The rest of the drive was silent as they drove the two hours back to the city.

***

After they had dropped the cars off at Hosea’s car shop, Charles drove them all back to the club in the van. It was 4AM by the time they all got back, and collectively they decided to call it a night and get back together the next night. As the others took their bikes and headed to their own homes, Arthur glanced over at John, who was still silent, still thinking.

“Yer goin’ to think yerself into the ground there,” Arthur commented.

John shrugged. “I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Let’s talk to Dutch tomorrow.”

As Arthur headed back to his room, John stepped outside and leaned against the brick wall. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with his disposable lighter, and slowly took a drag as he stared up at the twilight sky, the stars barely visible in the city. He had an itch to be out in the open again, to sleep under the river of stars like he did in the desert. Or even to be out of a city, just for a while.

John finished his cigarette and slunk back into the warehouse, crawling into bed and staring at the ceiling until the sun came up before finally passing out when even his churning thoughts could no longer keep him awake.

***

“I swear, if we have to hear one more lecture about not having enough faith…”

Arthur just shook his head as he followed John out of the convenience store, quietly drinking his soda.

“We just asked one damn thing, and he blows up at us like we’re questioning his entire existence!”

“You know how he is,” Arthur mumbled.

“I know how he was. How he is now… he ain’t the same.”

John’s statement was met with silence.

“You know I’m right,” John insisted.

Arthur let out a long sigh. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know!” John looked away. "All I know is that things ain't the same anymore," he mumbled as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and went silent as they walked back to the warehouse.

"Well," Arthur said after a while, "It weren't us that changed, that's for sure."

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

Chapter 2 coming soon!

#john x reader #john marston #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #writing #biker au #lemon fanfic #eventual smut #nsft #modern au

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vero-magic · 5 years ago

Note

Top 10 Moments from this Women's World Cup?

Okay so I kinda just did TOP TEN HIGHLIGHTS of the 2019 WWC... because I didn’t just want it to be goals//matches//dribbles. I wanted it to be bigger than that.

Where do I even begin? Seesh! Okay you asked to go down this rabbit hole. I apologize to no one for how long this is.

[10.] Lucy Bronze v Norway (Defender, England)

Okay... So we shouldn’t be surprised that I put Lucy Bronze on this list. But her goal vs Norway was my personal goal of the tournament. The strike, the technicality, the pace, ugh. Beautiful stuff from a beautiful human being. I mean it was a rocket. This was such a statement win, not to mention the fantastic tournament that Lucy had as well as the rest of the Lionesses. She anchored the english backline despite being a RB up in the attack. I think Lucy is the engine of the team. (Tbh, I don’t like Houghton as a captain because she doesn’t command enough of a presence for me on the field) You know who does have a presence on the field? Lucy Tough Bronze. This goal proved that statement to be true.

[9.] Amel Majri (Defender, France)

Switching flanks to the LB position, let’s talk Amel. Majri had one of the strongest if not the strongest performances throughout the entire WWC. (If she gets left off of the Best XI, I will literally riot.) She was strong, creative, pushed forward and added to the attack, while still providing top-class defense. She was able to keep world class forwards and mids quiet for 90+ minutes game after game. She had insane stats for this WWC, listen to this and tell me it’s not crazy. She led the entire tournament (think about the strong teams of Germany, USA, Netherlands, etc.) leading into the Round of 16 // Q/F games in assists, chances created, crosses//successful crosses. She’s a left back. I’m sorry but I just have to point out how important she is to the French side. Her dynamic running and influence was//is crucial to their attacking play. (She did more than Gauvin and Thiney combined tbh.) But anyhoo, Amel Majri had a hell of a tournament and she is a hell of a player. That’s just the facts.

[8.] LGBTQ+ Visibility

I think this entire point can be summed up in one tweet.

The LGBTQ+ Community THRIVED this World Cup. And I was here for it.

[7.] France - La Marseillaise // Chile - Canción Nacional

I love nothing more than pride for our heritage and country. I promise that not all of these moments are about France either. (sorry! Mais allez les bleues am I right?) But after living in France for 19 months learning the culture, understanding the people, loving the language and the pride. I couldn’t help but put this on the list. France (the host nation) walked out onto the Parc des Prince field June 7th, it was all the pride of the host nation on display. It was incredible to experience and as you watched the players take in a sold out Parc des Prince and have 45,261 people scream-sing your nations anthem, chills. One of my personal favorite moments I got to experience throughout the games I went to. Similarity, I got chills when the Chile WNT sang their national anthem. For whatever stupid reason that FIFA was being shitty, it all got somewhat remedied when we heard La Rojas belt out Cación Nacional each and every game. Passion. Soul. Chills.

( Couldn’t find a video of these... :/ )

[6.] Oranje Legioe

Undoubtedly, the best fans throughout the entire WWC go to the Dutch. They went to Le Havre, Valenciennes, Reims, Rennes, and finally Lyon and they didn’t just go... No, they showed up with thousands upon thousands of supporters strong. You’ve got them all, old, young, kiddos, men, women, children, gay, straight, and even Lisa Evans in a dodgey Orange hat to support her gf. Even still you might be asking, “Sage, why do I love the Dutch Oranje so much?” Well dear tumblr user, because it wasn’t just about the fanbase that they brought to the France, rather it was the support they gave from home. Game after game, the Netherlands smashed viewing records by millions as the NEDWNT continued on to the final. Incredible support makes incredible football. #GrowTheGameTOGETHER

[5.] Erin Cuthbert’s Photo Tribute (Forward, Scotland)

I made a post about this earlier in the WWC. But this moment was incredible. Erin and Co are playing Argentina in their final WWC Group Stage game. It’s simple, win and they’re in. (Ultimately they would fall short after a powerful rally from La Albiceleste that stunned the world.) Anyhoo, Erin scores her first-ever WWC goal and pulls out a small photo and kisses it. Probably the most tender goal celly of the entire tourney tbh. The image was unclear but it was soon confirmed that it was a photo of a young Erin Cuthbert. Erin later said this:

[4.] Marta’s Speech (Forward, Brazil)

What a moment not only for the Brazilian fans but for fans across the globe. Marta after Brazil’s elimination to hosts France in the Round of 16, delivered a powerful speech. In it she stated, “There's not going to be a Formiga forever, there's not going to be a Marta forever, there's not going to be a Cristiane.” before inviting the youth of Brazil to give more and do more. This speech quickly, became a worldwide topic of interest. But you know who didn’t need to hear it? (Hint: Read #5 again.)

youtube

[3.] Italy Women’s National Team

They first turned heads on first WWC game since 1991 against Australia. Upsetting the favorites 2-1 in an intense, exciting game. No one expected the Italians to do well versus the likes of Sam Kerr (c), De Vanna, Kellond-Knight, Foord, and Williams but, the Italians came back with a unique set of talent in Sara Gama (c), Bonansea, Giacinti, Girelli, and Galli that led their team not only to a shock upset against Aussies but to the Q/F. They played with heart, soul, and passion. They played an exciting game and displayed to the worst why they were there. (and ruined thousands of brackets in the process. RIP.) By far, one of my personal favorite teams to watch this entire tournament. Fantastic football. Let’s just put some up a beautful goal yeah?

[2.] Badass Goalkeeping

This WWC had no shortage of badass women, and it didn’t have a shortage of badass goalkeepers. I’m talking about Christiane Endler, Alyssa Naeher, Shimeng Peng, Hedvig Lindahl, Karen Bardsley, Vanina Correa, and Sari van Veenendaal among others. Each of these players came up with HUGE and critical saves and moments for their respective countries. Between the 4 Goddess (oops) Player of the Match awards went to keepers showcasing the power and punctuality of the art of goalkeeping. Sari van Veenendaal took home the coveted Golden Glove. 1/12th of awards from the tournament went to keepers and if you don’t think that is impressive just check out Tiane Endler’s performance against the United States in the Group Stage OR just check out this GK WWC Youtube Vid I found....

youtube

[1.] USWNT

The USWNT proved to from the start that they came to play. With a whopping FIFA record setting 13-0 win versus Thailand the USA started the road to the final. But the road was not easy, they had to play Sweden, France, England and take down the Netherlands in the final. This year was filled with record breaking moments for the USWNT including adding a brand new 4th star to those jerseys. What I love about this team is not only the play (but in my opinion they did not play the most attractive football in the tournament (@Netherlands) nor did they play the most strategic (@Sweden) but they grinded out win, after win, after win all while being their dorky selves. Despite pressure to succeed from the ‘15 WWC, the nation, and backlash from the current US President... the United States proved to be made of diamonds and thrived under it all. We saw cellys, sipped some tea, and marveled at Megan. The USWNT won on every front.

End Tangent: This WWC was so successful and laid a great foundation for the 2023 WWC. This WWC broke records, united nations, and created a platform to advocate for equality. The level of play was tremendous and we saw that every nation is growing the game. It was exciting to see and it makes me very, very excited for what’s to come.

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the-mill-kat · 5 years ago

Text

Unshaken Chapter V

Arthur Morgan x Reader (18+) Slow-Burn

And alas, Chapter 5 is here! Please, if you enjoy it, please ***like/comment/and-or-reblog***, every piece of feedback matters so much, comments really make my day! Thank you for your love and support for Unshaken!

(Photo credit: the-mill-kat)

You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

One week later …

The large male deer stood in front of him again, only this time it was in the middle of a shallow river, bending its head down to drink from it.

Arthur tried to move, but his body refused to obey. It was as if his mind were completely detached from his body. What the hell was going on?

Just as he could barely see the deer through the mist, it lifted its head and looked at him again. But this time, its eyes were brown … almost like —

John’s.

Arthur’s heart stopped.

The creature turned away, as if it hadn’t heard him, and it started making its way to the other side of the river, toward the storm.

“John!”

With the loudest and final beat, lightning struck between them, the sharp light blinding his vision.

Arthur snapped awake, breathing hard.

Sunlight was shining directly on his face through the window and he blinked hard, turning away so that the rays wouldn’t blind him.

He remembered the gang. He remembered the friends he’d lost, all the years of his life he’d been with them.

They were all gone now …

He’d spent so much of his life in a gang he considered his family above everything else.

He thought about his old friends, wondering where they were now.

He thought about Dutch, how he’d spent so many years of his life staying loyal to him, doing all the dirty work he was told to do. He’d given him all he had ... only to have the man leave him behind on that mountain in the end.